CHAPTER THREE

Baker Beach, morning

“The news this morning remains a stark remainder of nature’s power. It is now known that last night a Great White Shark believed to be upwards of eighteen feet in length attacked a group of Starfleet cadets and killed three…”

“Mitchell you really messed up big this time. I’ll have your…”

“My what? My badge? Get real, Clift, this was going to happen again…”

Civic Commissioner Barnard Clift glared at Mitchell as they stood away from the media circus. Reporters from the area as well as from far away as Alpha Centauri had landed on the beach at dawn. Clift’s hair was slicked back, his beady eyes wide and his suit creased. Having won re-election as to what was effectively a mayorship, he was not happy at this latest development.

“You always attract trouble.”

“And you always attract shit,” Mitchell pointed. “Look, it’s on your shoes.”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” joined in Carol Marcus, who stood roughly between them. “Gary’s right, sir, this was going to happen again but we never thought it’d be like this. This one’s likely come from somewhere we call the Café and made the journey in over the course of a year. We have sharks…”

“Spare me the lecture, Doctor. I want my beaches safe. Even in 2259 tourism is important to the city. Also, Starfleet doesn’t want their cadets being turned into seafood.” Clift’s glare deepened as he pointed at Mitchell. “And you didn’t tell me that there had already been a death. Doctor Wilshaw’s report landed on my desk just as I got the news about this.”

“We wanted to be sure it was a shark attack, Clift, unless you wanted beaches closed based on an unfortunate accident.” Mitchell did not have time for this nor indeed the stomach. He felt sick still but he was also feeling the trauma that had come the first time this had happened. His nightmares, even two years on, remained over the final moments of the first shark when he was almost swallowed by the thing.

Ed Wilshaw came over at this point, his feet sliding a little in the sand as he came up the slight dune. “Commissioner, the victims, those we found, were all subject to a shark attack consistent with a great white.”

Carol asked to see his tricorder which had some data on it. On the small screen was an image of a bite mark. She nodded. “That matches with the 2257 attacks.”

Clift visibly paled as if this was suddenly news in spite of his past bluster. “Then we close the beaches.”

“The shark has attacked twice in the Gate suggesting this is where it likes to hunt,” Carol said, handing the tricorder back and putting her hands in her pockets. “But then again it could be out in the Pacific by now.”

“Find it, Doctor and find it quick. I don’t want any more bodies washing up on these beaches.”

The commissioner stalked off to the waiting media scrum. Wilshaw folded the top of his tricorder down. “Sorry Gary, I had to…”

“I know you had to. Just bad timing.” Mitchell ran a hand through his hair. “Carol, can I help?”

“Sure. I’ll put the word out. The sooner we find it the better.”

“Yeah,” said Gary looking out to sea. “The sooner.”

**

“So, the seal disappearances were down to that shark.”

“Yes…”

“Why didn’t Carol say anything?”

Mitchell pushed away Lenore’s questions by turning away from her. The cable car continued its trek across Russian Hill via Lombard Street. One of those famous shots of a cable car from days of old. He put a foot on the running board. “The fact is, Lenore, we have a shark in the bay again.”

“You still don’t need to go out and get it.”

“Hell I don’t,” Mitchell growled. “It’s my responsibility, those beaches. At least four people have died on them already.”

“Then I’m coming too. You need someone who knows the waters and I grew up here so I know what’s going on in these waters.”

“I’m sure we’ll need all the help we can get.”

She stood ready to swing herself out onto the street. “You need me for sure.”

“It’ll be dangerous.”

Lenore muttered a curse and nudged him. “Spare me the old notions of chivalry. I might be a woman but I’m more than capable than anyone. You’re going up against a Great White Shark. I’m not too sure that discriminates against gender.”

For some reason that made Mitchell laugh. “You might just be right. Any good with a harpoon?”

“I had a damn fine aim at college.”

A few hours later Mitchell went home to his apartment near the Embarcadero. He drank some water and went to bed. He wanted to rest before going out that evening. Yet sleep became a savage nightmare. Wading out into the shallows of Baker Beach before teeth came for him. Big sharp…