The Nist Sanction

22,213 Words

“Captain’s Personal Log, Stardate 35276.61, Captain Esek Hrelle, Commanding: the Surefoot is currently engaged in a maintenance and upgrade cycle of a series of automated subspace communications and surveillance buoys within our sector, an opportunity for our cadets to gain practical experience in an extravehicular environment, so we’re getting them to suit up and head out there rather than tractor the buoys into our shuttlebay and do the work inside. They all sound keen to get out there in suits, though I suspect that enthusiasm will dampen after they start cleaning the vomit out of their helmets.

On a personal note, I’m feeling… I’m feeling a little…”

Hrelle sat behind his desk, silent, until the computer prompted him with, “Do you wish to continue recording?”

“Yes.” He stopped and rubbed the sleep from his eyes and scratched at the fur on his muzzle and throat before actually continuing. “I’m feeling a little distant from my stepdaughter Sasha. I took this post mostly for the opportunity to participate in the Academy’s Advanced Work Experience Program, which I knew she was in, in order to make up for the years I’d spent as a captive. And we do see each other, every day, have lunch, talk.

But it’s not been the same of late. I’m sure it had something to do with my meeting Barbara - Professor Gianopoulis - on Luntanu last week, and though she said she was happy that I found someone of interest since her mother died, I can’t help but feel that this development has distanced us. Sure, she’s my stepchild, will always be my little Runt of the Litter. But she’s also an adult, living a life of her own, separate from mine. She has friends, goals, interests, opinions, ambitions that I have not helped shape or given her. And I’m happy that she has.

But there’ll always be a selfish part of me that wishes she was a child again, riding on my shoulders to get a better look at the Universe, and letting me sing her lullabies at night-

Oh, screw this! Computer, end recording!”

He breathed out, What maudlin, self-pitying nonsense! If Kami were here, the Counselor would be smacking his snout for this! Sasha was a hard-working, ambitious young woman, juggling her duties as a cadet, a crewmember of his ship and leader of Alpha Squad. What did he want her to do, devote all her free time to making him feel less of a dunsel?

His stomach growled as if in agreement, and he comforted himself with the thought of his imminent breakfast. He grabbed his PADD and left for the mess hall, determined to get a start on his daily admin work before his shift started. He might even get a chance to suit up and head out with one of the squads - not to keep an eye on them, and certainly not because he enjoyed the experience, but to maintain his own EVA qualifications.

But that was later. Now… “Two helpings of Terran French toast with cinnamon, side order of crispy bacon, and strawberry-flavoured maple syrup,” he told the replicator wall panel happily.

“Unable to comply,” the machine responded, sounding just a little too smug for Hrelle’s liking. “There is an override from Chief Medical Officer Doctor Juliet Ling regarding your food choices. You are restricted to one of the following: one half-grapefruit, Terran or Rigelian origin; two slices of toast; one assorted fruit cup selection; corn flakes-”

“Shut up.” The blush he felt beneath his fur was compounded by the crew and cadets, waiting in line to use the replicators and hearing the conversation. Dr Ling had threatened to limit his choices if he didn’t make an effort to reduce his weight, but he barely had time to do something about it! It had only been… well, eight weeks, but still… “Computer, the French toast and bacon isn’t for me, it’s for a friend, he’s caught in a dimensional rift and can’t come to get it himself. So provide it. Now.”

“Unable to comply.”

Hrelle growled.

“Excuse me? Captain?”

He stopped growling to look behind him at Cadet Chaudri, the Flight Conn member of Beta Squad. “Yes, Rina?”

The impossibly-young and slim Terran girl with almond-coloured skin and eyes smiled slyly. “If you order a fruit cup, Sir, I’ll order French toast and bacon and we can switch at the table.”

“Why, that would be-” But he bit back the rest of his initial response. He had to set an example, after all. “That would be wrong, Cadet. The good doctor obviously had reason to put me on a diet, and I must accede to her… wisdom. But thanks for the offer, anyway.” To the replicator, he asked, through clenched teeth, “One half-grapefruit, Terran.”

“You are allowed eighteen grams of cottage cheese as an accompaniment with this selection. Would you like this included?”

“WHAT?” he proclaimed loudly, sarcasm as thick as how he imagined the syrup on his desired breakfast would have been. “A whole eighteen grams? Oh Bubulah, you would be spoiling me with such gastronomic extravagance!”

To the laughter of those around them, he then proceeded to tell the computer exactly what it could do with eighteen grams of cottage cheese.

A plain half-grapefruit and spoon materialised on a tray before him.

He took his tray to an empty table, grimacing before taking even his first bite. After all he’d been through, you’d think they’d offer him some dispensation to have a bit of a belly. It may not appear too flattering, especially in the current uniforms, but it wasn’t as if he was in the Diplomatic Corps or a model on recruitment posters.

The taste of the grapefruit was exactly as he expected, and he cursed Dr Ling with each subsequent spoonful, as he lifted up his PADD and began skimming through the unread mails: further intelligence reports on the Tholian Border, with consequent instructions to increase tactical exercises for cadets and crew, effective immediately; General Orders requesting any available intelligence on some pasty-faced cybernetic race glimpsed on the edge of known space; signatures required for authorising warp core component replacements when they arrive at Starbase 156 next month-

He stopped at a mail with an unfamiliar Origin address; after a moment, he found it was relayed through the buoys from outside of Federation space. He opened the mail and began reading. He quickly forgot the rest of his breakfast.

And he never heard his first officer approach, tray in hand. “Good morning, Captain.”

He grunted, not looking up from his PADD.

Commander T’Varik took his response with typical Vulcan stoicism, taking the seat opposite him, her own tray sporting an identical grapefruit but with cottage cheese. She indicated his rejected breakfast. “Dr Ling had warned me of your dietary change, and instructed me to inform you that I am unable to have her orders rescinded.”

He never answered.

“If you are reading about the Galen Conflict, rest assured I have already added the holodeck exercise programs and altered the Squads’ training schedules to accommodate them with immediate effect.”

“I’m not,” he said distantly. “I’ve received a personal message from the… the Nist Justice Hive.”

The announcement almost provoked a discernible reaction from T’Varik. “The Nist? Why would the law-enforcement agency of a non-aligned world be contacting you?”

“They, um, they have apparently been conducting a trial of a Federation citizen, a Terran by the name of Alexander Giger.” His voice sounded faint, dream-like, even to himself. “The man had been found guilty by their courts of numerous charges, including multiple acts of murder, theft, terrorism. He has been sentenced to death in ten days’ time, on a Nist research outpost on Tau Beta VI.”

T’Varik nodded. “Tau Beta is in the sector adjacent to our own, approximately 36.4 light years from our current location; they are studying natural microsingularities in that system, as is a Federation outpost on Tau Beta III. But I am unfamiliar with the individual they have tried and convicted. And I remain at a loss as to your involvement in this.”

Hrelle set aside the PADD. “It is apparently Nist custom to invite the next of kin of a condemned criminal’s victims to witness their execution, as a demonstration of… justice in action. This Alexander Giger is said to be a senior operative in the criminal organisation known as the Bel-Zon, and was allegedly responsible for the attack on the USS Furyk and Station Salem One.”

He didn’t need to tell her the rest, about all the deaths that resulted on his old ship and station - including his wife Hannah, Sasha’s mother. His first officer knew the rest.

“Captain,” T’Varik finally asked, sounding careful with her next choice of words. “Were you aware of these legal proceedings before today?”

“No. I was never contacted, not to bear witness or to participate in any way. I never even heard of this man before today.” He paused, and then ordered, “I want you to contact Starfleet Intelligence, Priority Channel One. I want to know everything about him, and this trial. I also want you to get in touch with the local Judge Advocate General’s office, to find out what our legal standing is with regards to a member of Starfleet attending such an event. I know relations have been strained between our governments, though the message indicates the Justice Hive would grant temporary visas for all attendees, but I want to know what our side says.”

“Captain… do you intend to accept the invitation?”

He heard the tone in her voice, knew how she felt about the subject. “Just get me that information, as soon as possible.” He rose to his feet. “Help yourself to what’s left of my breakfast, I’ve lost my appetite.”

*

Space, Communications Buoy 6314-558:

Sasha Hrelle couldn’t stop hearing the creaks that her spacesuit made with each move she made, and couldn’t stop thinking that there was a leak, somewhere, despite the advanced safety features in place. Instead, she focused on passing her diagnostic tricorder over the areas on her section of the buoy, and indulging in the conversation du jour. “I say he’s a prince. A prince on his homeworld. Not with any actual constitutional power, of course, it’s a ceremonial title, but it would still be highly respected. Prince Kitirik of Qarari.”

On the other side of the buoy, scanning her side, Neraxis grunted. “That has to be the stupidest idea ever conceived. I mean, I love our little bug eater, but… Kit? A prince?”

Sasha wished she could ignore the scratch on her nose. “Is it more stupid than your idea of him being a master criminal on the run from his homeworld? He wouldn’t say Boo to a tribble.”

The Bolian was drifting away from the buoy, and hooked one of her boots around a nodule. “Hey, he was the one who said he and his government ‘agreed to disagree’. How else can you interpret that?”

Sasha remembered. A week before, when they had performed their first Away Mission exercise on Luntanu, their Science Specialist Kit mentioned him needing to seek asylum away from his homeworld, and refusing to go into detail. Since then, the speculation as to his reasons reused to go away. She had done some cursory research on his homeworld, but the only recent relevant news she could find on it was about an imminent war they were about to have with a neighbouring planet. “What do you think, Giles?”

From the nearby shuttle, its hatchway open and its spacesuited pilot sitting on the step like a child waiting for his father to come home and play, Giles Arrington made a thoughtful noise before replying, “It was a love affair gone wrong. He fell in love with a female, he had to leave-”

“Why would that be a problem?”

“The Qarari females get together with the males only for breeding purposes; Kit told me. There are strict laws among their people against relationships between the male and female genders, to prevent one gender from dominating reproduction.”

“I take back what I said before,” Neraxis declared. “That’s the stupidest idea ever conceived. You really think Kit is the Qarari equivalent of Darom?”

“Who?”

“From the Bolian epic. Darom and Osega were young forbidden lovers, drawn together despite their families being mortal enemies.”

“So, they’re your Romeo and Juliet?”

“No, Romeo and Juliet’s our Darom and Osega, you Terracentric jerk! Why do humans always have to compare everything with their own reference points?”

“Enough,” Sasha intervened. “Eydiir, what do you think?”

The Capellan was their Medical Specialist and had no reason to be out there, but still needed to log the minimum hours to qualify for Extra Vehicular Activity. She floated down from the far antenna array, as if needing to speak to them face to face rather than over their comlink. “I think that it doesn’t matter. I think that if Kitirik wanted to tell us about his background, he would have. I think that whatever his past, he has since proved himself to be a loyal member of our squad. I think it is dishonourable to be speaking about him on a secure channel without his knowledge. And I think this discussion should end. Now.”

Everyone went quiet. Then Neraxis picked up with, “You know, Eydiir, you really need to speak up for yourself sometimes and tell us how you really feel. All this repression can’t be good for your bowels.”

“But she has a point,” Sasha conceded with some shame, looking at the helmeted face of her friend. “Don’t you get tired of being right all the time?”

“Yes, it can be debilitating. Perhaps if you could carry some of the burden once or twice it would be less so?”

Sasha smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Respected Squad Leader,” came a new and familiar voice on an adjacent channel. “Friend Jonas and I have completed our work on the next buoy and await collection.”

“We’re on our way, Kit, just hang tight.”

“It would be appreciated, Friend Sasha. Like the dorm parties back at the Academy, there is not much here in the way of atmosphere. Kitirik out.”

Sasha grimaced, then asked the rest of them, “Can we please stop encouraging him to tell jokes?”

*

Deck 1, Captain’s Office:

T’Varik presented her findings like any other report. “Alexander Giger is listed as a Federation citizen of Terran origin, born in Mojave City, United States on Stardate 9114.05, but very little else is known or proven: no business, no family, no connections. In fact, records indicate nothing of him for the last twenty years, anywhere. Two months ago, the Nist Justice Hive reported capturing him on a vessel with Orion registry, and identified him as a senior operative of the Bel-Zon.”

Sitting nearby, Kami asked, “Why would the Nist be interested in capturing him?”

“Among those killed on Station Salem One were two senior officials in the Nist Trade Hive, there to secure shipping contracts in the Banaris Sector. Although their Justice Hive recognises Mr Giger’s complicity in the murders of the crew of the USS Furyk and the others on Salem, it is primarily for these officials’ deaths that the man has been tried and convicted.”

“So why take him to Tau Beta VI to be executed, and not just do it on their homeworld?”

“Given the distance to their homeworld, and that a large number of the next of kin of Mr Giger’s victims are Federation citizens, this is being interpreted as a gesture of good will on the part of the Nist; their Justice Hive was apparently surprised by the Federation responding to this gesture by formally protesting the execution of one of their citizens within our space. However, as their outpost on Tau Beta VI is seen as Nist territory, they are legally entitled to carry this out. The Justice Hive did share their evidence against Mr Giger with Starfleet Intelligence and the Federation Bureau of Investigation, and it was apparently convincing enough for the latter to make a failed extradition request.”

“But we still don’t know for certain that he’s guilty-”

“He is,” Hrelle announced simply, never taking his eyes from the image on the PADD before him, the image of an older, pale-skinned human male with receding grey hair, broad nose and a jutting jaw.

“Are you certain?” Kami asked.

“I looked up at this man. I was begging, pleading to him, sobbing like a cub as his men cut off my tail with a blunt blade, on his orders, while he watched. I won’t forget his face.” He dropped the PADD onto his desk with a soft slap. “And what did the JAG office say about my going?”

The Vulcan straightened up. “They were not exactly sanguine about the idea, given the nature of the visit and the current diplomatic status between the two governments. But it wasn’t forbidden, either. Apparently invitations were sent to other Federation citizens, including the next of kin of the crew of your former vessel and those killed on Salem One, and it was alleged that some have accepted; there are no legal prohibitions against their attendance. The Judge Advocate General’s office strongly suggested that if you do go, you do not go in uniform, or take part in any media events that might be turned into propaganda.”

He nodded. “Thank you, that makes it much easier.” He looked up at them. “I’m not going.”

Both women appeared to relax, albeit to differing degrees, a smiling Kami asking, “Easier? How did what they said make it easier?”

“Because if they had forbidden me from going, I’d never know if I would have gone if I could. Now I do. I’ve seen far too many people killed in my lifetime. I have no interest whatsoever in seeing another, no matter the circumstances.”

“Good for you,” Kami grinned.

“A laudable sentiment,” T’Varik agreed.

He rose. “So, let’s forget any of this happened and get on with our lives, shall we?” He sighed. “T’Varik, would you be so good as to get a cheeseburger for me?”

*

Deck 1, Mess Hall/Lounge:

Alpha Squad carried their trays to the nearest table, Sasha’s belly rumbling in anticipation of the delicious-smelling bowl of beef in black bean sauce and rice in her bowl. She hadn’t eaten breakfast in anticipation of her EVA work that morning, terrified of throwing up in her suit; although the internal systems would have did their best to clean up any mess, it wasn’t perfect, and the smell would probably linger almost as long as the ridicule she would have received from the others.

Across from her, Jonas looked to his right and grimaced. “Watch out, Mr Smug Jerk is here too.”

Sasha didn’t even bother to look up, knowing who he was talking about: Jared Miro, Beta Squad’s leader, and for a while, the object of Sasha’s affection.

Okay, lust.

They had almost had sex not long ago, when they were on Luntanu engaged in an Away Mission exercise, but Sasha had backed off at the last minute, and Jared said some stupid things about her Dad. Since then, they hadn’t so much as exchanged two words together, in those few times when their two squads met together. “Forget about him. I’ve moved on.”

“Well, he’s not doing the same about you,” Giles informed them. “According to Rina, he can’t get through a day without mentioning you at least once. He’s pissing them off.”

Eydiir looked at him. “You seem incapable of doing the same about Cadet Chaudri. You are always talking about her.”

“We’re both helmsmen, we take the same courses, study together. So what?”

“So nothing. I am merely pointing out the hypocrisy of constantly speaking about someone who complains about someone else constantly speaking about someone.”

Giles blinked and looked to the others. “Can somebody put that last sentence into a readable diagram so I can understand it?”

“I would be delighted to, Friend Giles,” Kit offered, setting aside his plate of beetles and grabbing his PADD.

Neraxis nudged Jonas beside her. “See what you started? There’s some weird love pentangle going on here.” She looked over at Sasha. “Sash- Hey, Sash, what’s wrong?”

The others stopped what they were doing when they saw the expression on their Squad Leader’s face, as she perused her own PADD, her lunch forgotten.

“What are you reading?” Giles asked.

“N-Nothing…” But she kept reading, wondering why the Nist government would be contacting her…

*

Deck 4, Training Holodeck:

Sasha sat in the command chair at the centre of the simulated bridge, eyes fixed on the viewscreen without actually looking at it, ears hearing to the reports of her squad at their various stations without actually listening to them.

In front of her, Giles Arrington sat at the helm. “Approaching Talarian vessel, stopping at four thousand kilometres and holding position.”

At her Security station, Neraxis Nemm double checked her readings and announced, “The vessel’s weapons are off-line, and no other vessels in proximity, Captain.”

From his station at Engineering, Jonas Ostrow offered, “They appear to have suffered a radiation leak from their primary reactor; however it appears to be contained, and there is no danger of a warp core breach.”

From the auxiliary Medical station, Eydiir Daughter-of-Kaas added, “I am detecting multiple Talarians onboard, with injuries. I am alerting all primary and secondary medical teams to the transporter room with appropriate radiation equipment.”

Taking the Operations position instead of his usual Science station, Kitirik finished with. “Respected Simulated Captain Sasha Hrelle, as per procedure I am sending communications to the Talarians offering assistance.”

Still, Sasha didn’t speak, prompting Giles to turn in his chair and silently catch her attention.

She woke up now. “Mr Arrington, maintain our position here. Mr Ostrow, divert all available power to the transporters, with secondary power to the industrial replicators, we’ll need radiation treatments. Mr Kitirik, clear our shuttlebay to act as a triage area. Ms Nemm, assign security to each medical team. Ms Daughter-of-Kaas, send your teams across when their security arrives.”

She let her squad go through the motions, while she continued to sit there, mired in her thoughts. The Nist had the man responsible for her mother’s death, for the deaths of the people on Salem One and her Dad’s ship. All these years, years of Starfleet and the Federation promising they would do everything in their power to bring this man to justice, and it takes a foreign, hostile power to do so. And they were invited her to see justice carried out.

Had her father received an invitation of his own, or did they only send it to blood relatives of the victims? If she didn’t have this exercise scheduled immediately after lunch, she would have gone to him to ask. As it happens, all she could do was sit here and-

“Respected Simulated Captain Sasha Hrelle,” Kit spoke up again. “Forgive the interruption, but although I have received no formal response to the hails sent, I am detecting internal communications that-”

Suddenly all eyes were on the viewscreen, as the arrowhead-shaped Talarian vessel with the four aft heat radiating fins suddenly exploded with a bright blossom of white energy, scattering shards of debris in all directions and damaging their own simulated vessel. The explosion snapped Sasha out of her thoughts, as a voice filled the holodeck. “End Simulation.”

The viewscreen and displays went blank, and everyone but Sasha rose to their feet as the fake bridge door opened and Commander T’Varik entered, hands behind her back. “Alpha Squad: what you have just experienced is an amalgam of a series of incidents occurred along the Galen Border during the last conflict.

The area had been in dispute between the Federation and the Talarian government. And although the Talarians are technologically inferior, they had compensated with the employment of suicide tactics, such as the one you have just experienced: the use of a false distress signal to lure Starfleet personnel onboard their vessels, whereupon they activate their ships’ auto-destruct program. This tactic was responsible for the deaths of 219 Starfleet personnel over a three-day period.”

The Vulcan allowed Alpha Squad to exchange sober glances with each other before continuing. “Although we will of course not encounter Talarian vessels in our assigned sector of space, Starfleet Command has instructed us to conduct a series of additional tactical exercises to make you aware of the potential- Cadet Hrelle, are you paying attention?”

Sasha looked up and replied, “Yes, Commander.”

“And were your legs injured during the exercise?”

“No, Ma’am.” The cadet rose to her feet, tugging at the sides of her uniform absently.

“Very good. As I was saying, Starfleet Command wants to expand on our curriculum to include unconventional scenarios to which you may need to adapt in the future.” She turned to Kitirik. “You may also wish to consider adopting a more concise style of verbal communication when you are on duty, Cadet. As laudable as your people’s predilection for etiquette is, your commanding officer may not have time to wait for you to honour it before you impart essential information.”

The Qarari’s throat folds turned red with embarrassment as he replied, “I understand, Respected Exercise Instruc- I mean, yes, Ma’am.”

“And we will also- Cadet Hrelle?”

Sasha looked to T’Varik, “Yes, Ma’am?”

“What exactly is preoccupying you?”

“It- It doesn’t matter, Commander-”

“I will be the judge of that. Please explain.”

Sasha breathed in, feeling her heart race at the thought of it. “I, ah, received a message from the Nist government-”

The Vulcan reacted. “I see. Your father is on the Bridge; go to him now and inform him.”

“Did he receive one as well?”

“He will explain. Please proceed.”

Sasha looked to the rest of the squad before departing quickly, her heart racing now from anticipation. He must have received an invitation as well! That means they could both go, both go and see that justice was done to the bastard that killed Mom!

Dad was on the bridge, conversing with Lt. Abed, and when he looked up into her eyes, he knew why she was there. He nodded back the way she came, stopping to mutter something to the ship’s Security Officer Lt. Abed before following her out, down the corridor and into his office. “You heard from the Nist?”

She nodded.

He reached out and took her hands in his own, squeezing warmly. “I’m sorry, Sash. I should have realised, should have checked with you sooner. It must have been a shock for you.”

“It didn’t quite hit me at first,” she admitted. “It was so unexpected, no warning at all. I never even knew they had found someone.”

His face sobered. “Neither did I, until I received my own invitation.”

“And are they sure that he- he-”

His eyes darkened. “Yes, it’s definitely him. I contacted Starfleet Intelligence for further information. They sent an image. I… recognised him.”

She darkened. “A part of me was worried that they might have someone innocent.” They paused, looking at each other, Sasha waiting for him to respond, before finally feeling prompted to ask, “When are we leaving?”

He blinked. “Leaving?”

“Of course! We don’t have much time. We can take your personal shuttle, you said it’s been uprated to reach a sustained Warp 9.5, I checked the coordinates, we could get to Tau Beta in five days-”

“Sasha…”

“And I’m sure Commander T’Varik will provide my curriculum so I won’t miss out on my studies-”

He backed away, looking confused. “Sasha… we’re not going.”

Now it was her turn for confusion. “Why not? We have permission, we can get there in time. There’s nothing stopping us!”

“Nothing… except it’s wrong.”

Her jaw dropped. “Wrong? Are you really saying it’s wrong to want to see the man who murdered Mom - your wife - and all the innocent people on SalemOne and the Furyk, face justice?”

“You think this is justice, Sasha? Going to see a man’s life taken from him by the state?”

“Yes!” She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with her father, the man who said he’d loved her mother with all his heart! “That bastard took Mom’s life, took the lives of scores of people, and for what? For profit! He deserves to be punished!”

“And you think it has to be by killing him?”

“Of course!”

He was staring back at her, like she was the one who was in the wrong - and she suddenly, fiercely hated him for refusing to understand her. Softer now, he continued, “Sasha, this isn’t what your mother would have wanted.”

“How would you know?” she demanded angrily. “She was my mother longer than she was ever your wife!”

He froze, clearly hurt by his words, before reaching up behind his neck and under his collar, working at something underneath. He drew his hands down again, this time carrying with them a thin gold necklace with a matching symbol dangling from it. He held it out for her to see. “This was hers; I found it among her possessions, the same time I found your old doll. Do you recognise the symbol?”

Sasha barely looked at it, at first thinking it was just a stylised side profile of some four-legged animal. Then she remembered - but said nothing.

He continued regardless. “It’s Chai, the Hebrew symbol for Life. Your mother used to say that Life Always Matters. That it was sacred, and not to be taken lightly. And certainly not to be taken needlessly.

Sasha… as terrible as this man’s crimes were, and as much as we feel he might deserve to suffer and to die because of them, his execution will serve no purpose. It will not bring the dead back to life. It will not help them rest easy. It will not deter others. It will not reform her murderer. It will not even take away your pain at the loss of your Mom; I can promise you that much.

Yes, Hannah was your mother longer than she was my wife. But I was intimate with her, in ways a child wouldn’t understand. And I swear on my life, she would not want anyone else to die for her. Or for you to feel such hate for another living being that you would want them dead.” He raised the hand with the medallion closer to her. “Take it. She would want you to have it-”

She slapped away his hand, sending the medallion across the room.

Hrelle looked shocked, as shocked as Sasha felt. But she clung to her anger like a lifeline, refusing to surrender. “I don’t need your permission… Esek. I’m a legal adult. I can vote, I can drink, I can travel, I can marry, I can screw. And I can go see justice done. Even if you can’t.”

Hrelle lowered his emptied hand, his expression… frightening. “You’re also a member of Starfleet, subject to the orders of those in command. You’ll need approval to leave this ship. Consider that denied.”

Sasha felt herself shaking. “Then I’ll resign.”

He slapped his combadge in response. “Commander T’Varik, report to my office immediately!”

“Acknowledged.”

He slapped the comlink shut again, still glaring at Sasha. “Do it, then,” he countered simply, coldly. “Resign. And as per Regulations, you will need to undergo the requisite administrative procedures before being dropped off at the nearest Starbase. By then, the execution will have passed. You’ll have thrown away everything you’ve worked for, for nothing.”

T’Varik walked into the room, just as Sasha asked through gritted teeth, “Why don’t you just admit the real reason you won’t go? It’s because you’re scared. Scared to face him because of what he did to you. You’re nothing but a bloody coward!”

“Cadet,” T’Varik spoke up sharply as she drew between the two of them. “Regardless of the circumstances, you will not speak to a superior officer in this way. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“As a matter of fact, Commander,” Hrelle commented coldly. “A moment ago, because I refused permission for her to leave the ship and attend the execution, Sasha threatened to resign from the Academy, so that order might no longer apply to her.” He looked at Sasha again. “Well? Are you resigning, Cadet?”

She was taut as piano wire.

“You were asked a question, Cadet,” T’Varik reminded her.

“No, Commander,” she finally replied, deliberately addressing the Vulcan and not Hrelle. “I’m not.”

“Then this matter is settled,” Hrelle concluded. “T’Varik, ensure the Cadet returns to whatever is scheduled for her now.”

“Yes, Sir. Cadet, I believe Alpha Squad is in the Study Room preparing for the Astrophysics Exam?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” But she shot her father - her stepfather - an icy look as she left with T’Varik. Until she saw him retrieve her mother’s necklace, saw the expression in his face. And pangs of guilt stabbed her in the stomach. Apologise, she told herself. Don’t go like this.

She still left.

*

Somewhere Else, Six Years Ago:

For someone with a lethal weapon shoved hard against his snout and threatening to clean out his sinuses, Esek Hrelle - former Starfleet Captain, former husband and father, current slave in the bowels of an unnamed asteroid - was remarkably cool.

Partly it was due to the residual effects of their captors’ neural truncheons, stunning them when they were caught during their latest escape attempt. Partly it was due to an attempt to maintain leadership within his cell, a responsibility he had accepted reluctantly as the price for a chance to escape this hell. Partly it was due to a deliberate drive to stay calm and not antagonise their captors.

But mostly it was just due to it being too damn cold here. The Breen, permanently encased in their bulky brown refrigerated suits and beaked, visored helmets, cared little for the ambient temperatures, and even less for the comfort of their slaves.

Hrelle and the rest of the workers of his cell stood clumped together in the loading bay, the hatchway to the newly-arrived freighter now closed off to them, as the Breen stood in a line before them, weapons raised in a grouping uncomfortably reminiscent of a firing squad.

Unless Hrelle could convince the Breen otherwise. “Thol, this isn’t necessary. I was responsible. The others are not. Punish me, not them.”

The Breen spoke in reply, and though it partly came across as electronic gibberish even with the Universal Translator, Hrelle’s superior hearing and Starfleet training made it at least mostly discernible. “veg[0248vg4v2vlVnaa Agreed Punishment Is Required.”

Hrelle nodded, expecting this. Since he had been voted into command of this group, he had managed to organise them into a unit that had a genuine chance of planning and attempting an escape. And they had almost made it today. Little was known about the Breen - but what was definitely known was that they were merciless. So today was his day to die.

He was ready for it.

Until Thol spoke to his soldiers, who moved as one, grabbing three of the smallest, thinnest, oldest members of the cell, dragging them into the centre of the bay, forcing them onto their knees - and blasting the tops of their heads off.

“NO!” Hrelle cried out, reaching for Thol, despite the weapon still pointed at him.

But then he felt Peran Sayr, a Bajoran with curly black hair and scars on his lean face that seemed to radiate from the tight column of ridges on his aquiline nose, resting a callused hand on Hrelle’s forearm. “You can’t help them, Captain. They are in the Prophets’ hands now.”

“Dammit, Sayr-”

“Captain,” Peran said again, his voice soft and careful, his grip tightening. “Do not antagonise them any further. Stay alive.”

Hrelle nodded, grateful for the man’s counsel. Peran was a Ranjen, a monk among his people, and had been captured and sold into slavery by Orions while helping seek a settlement for his fellow refugees following the occupation of their homeworld by the Cardassians.

He was a quiet, modest member of their cell, but had quickly proved himself strong in resolution and support, not just for their collective efforts to escape, but for Hrelle’s individual efforts to cope with his confinement and not give in to despair. Hrelle had never been one for spiritualism, but he appreciated the succour that Peran provided. Especially now.

Then Thol announced, “c54f3-3=]’Clear the Debris And Return To Your Pen No Rations Today.”

Hrelle stared at the clump of emaciated bodies lying in a bloodied heap, limbs entwined in some parody of a group hug. Then he motioned to his people, to gather the bodies and carry them with as much dignity as they could manage to the recyclers, while others gathered cleaning equipment for the mess.

The door to the freighter remained tantalisingly close.

*

USS Surefoot, Secondary Hull, Deck 11, Ventral Sensor Access Room:

Hrelle sat at the bottom of the vertical shaft as if it was an oubliette, marvelling at the quiet. It wasn’t total quiet, of course, and could never be, not without the aid of sensory deprivation bafflers or a total power failure. But it was quiet enough, and after he gave an order to the ship’s computer, the lights around him went out.

The base of his spine where his tail was once rooted ached, not so much a phantom pain as a chronic ache from years of wear and tear that mere months of therapy couldn’t just remove. The tips of his fingers where they had removed his claws ached too. He began to accept that it was all in his head. Then his head ached, as if wanting to join in.

He heard sounds from above, echoing through the Jeffries tubes and corridors, before he caught her scent. He considered calling up to her, telling her not to bother coming down and that he was okay, and just wanted to be left alone for a while. But he knew the futility of that course of action, and so waited, smirking as he heard her bang her foot along the way and curse.

He looked up to see Kami descending on the ladder built into the vertical shaft, her tail swishing like a cub on the playground, and now Hrelle smiled. He also couldn’t help but notice that she was in the minidress version of the uniform - and that she wasn’t wearing any underwear again - and wondered if that was intentional, another distraction for him to help him open up to her.

He stayed sat on the floor of the access room, his back to a wall, looking up at her. “What can I do for you, Counselor?”

Kami Shall turned to him, both of them able to see perfectly well in the level of light present. “Wow, this was so worth coming down to. The Oberth. Who was this class of starship named after, a Surrealist? What an idiotic design, separating the hulls.”

“It’s mostly a safety feature, since the warp core and antimatter are stored in the secondary hull, as well as the photon torpedoes; in the event of an emergency, the secondary hull can be detached and the primary hull fly away via the impulse engine. The distance from the equipment in the primary hull also increases the performance of the sensor arrays in the secondary hull-” He stopped and asked, “When did you stop listening to all that?”

“Just after ‘safety feature’. But don’t worry, sweetie, I’m sure it was all simply delightful.” She slid down beside him, her tail snaking up to slip onto his lap like a pet seeking attention. “So, T’Varik told me about the argument you had with Sasha. Sounded savage.”

He didn’t respond.

“You’re not used to it, are you? It’s been intense for you two, but until now you’ve always been on the same side. Must have been a shock.”

He stayed silent.

“I used to get into such arguments with my father’s father,” she continued. “He was one of those old-timers from the Caitian Planetary Navy days, and always talked about how much better the planet would be if we seceded from the Federation. Mad bastard. Never mind all the incredible advantages we had being a Federation member, he just wanted to fly the old flags and wear the old uniforms. We butted heads so often. But we still loved each other.”

No response.

“Seven Hells, I’ve got more words out of my last furball. How about getting something from you other than technobabble?”

“I’m scared,” he admitted.

She stopped and looked at him. Her tone became more sympathetic, more professional. “And what’s scaring you, Esek?”

He breathed out slowly, his fingers absently playing with the furred tip of her tail. “That wasn’t my little girl up there.”

“Of course it wasn’t. She’s eighteen, she’s grown up, she has her own opinions on things.”

He remembered his personal log from that morning, noting the same thing - and being glad for it at the time. “It wasn’t just that. It was the rage, the fury in her eyes, her voice. She really wants to see Giger die. Why wasn’t this covered in her psychiatric evaluation?”

“What makes you think it wasn’t?”

Hrelle looked at her. “You knew how she felt? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s none of your damn business, Captain Sir. She’s entitled to her privacy, like you and the rest of us.”

“And no one thought it important enough to address with her before now?”

“We all have little bits of savagery in our psyches, and luckily for us, they usually don’t surface. Unfortunately, the past has two big bad points about it: one, it can’t be changed, and two, it can pop back into the present without warning and kick you in the balls. And that’s what’s happened to both of you.”

“But I’ve managed to put it behind me.”

“I hate to point out the obvious, but you’re older, and you’ve had a lot more experience at doing that. Sasha hasn’t. But give her time. She’s strong. She’ll pick herself up again.”

“Is that what you do when you’re kicked in the balls?”

Kami smirked. “My balls are made of pure neutronium. Nothing drops me.” She patted him on the knee. “Now let’s get back to the Bridge before T’Varik thinks we’re rutting down here.”

*

Deck 2, Study Room:

Sasha entered the Study Room, as Alpha Squad looked up from their PADDs and terminals, Eydiir rising in concern. “Is everything okay, Sash?”

Sasha stopped at the doorway and nodded, stepping back to look out in the corridor and ensure no one else was approaching to hear what she had to say. Then she entered fully, grabbing a chair and drawing it into the centre of the room before straddling it backwards, looking to each of them in turn before focusing on a bemused Giles. “I need your help. All of you really, but yours especially, Giles.”

He blinked, looking to the others before focusing on her again. “Mine? Sure. But what for?”

She couldn’t believe she was going to say this. “You know the Captain’s personal shuttle in Hangar Bay 2, the Sureswift? Do you think you can fly it?”

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 2, Study Room:

Sasha told the others about the Nist invitation to the execution of her mother’s murderer - but as she did, she could see the beginnings of doubt creeping into some of the faces. Jonas and Kitirik, she expected such reactions, given their passive natures. Neraxis was a surprise, but then the Bolian, for her role as the Squad’s Security Specialist and her generally boisterous nature, proved in fact to be more conventional. Giles appeared mostly supportive and sympathetic.

And she wasn’t worried about Eydiir; the Capellan’s culture was inherently violent, with duels, vendetta and tribal warfare a common occurrence, so there was no way her friend would saying anything negative.

Until she finished her story. Then Eydiir replied, “No. Giles will not help you.”

Giles looked to her. “You think maybe you’ll leave that decision up to me?”

Eydiir looked to Giles now. “She has been forbidden from leaving the ship. If you aid and abet her in the theft of a shuttle, you’ll end up in the stockade, and needless to say, thrown out of Starfleet.” She looked to the others. “We all will, if we assist.”

Anger rose like bile in Sasha’s throat. “How can you turn against me like that? You, of all people? You told me you saw your father execute the killer of your mother!”

“Yes, I did,” Eydiir conceded darkly. “But it was in the aftermath of a blood feud, and it was a quick, clean, necessary act. I had no desire to see it. I certainly did not enjoy it. There was no audience. It was not made into a protracted, public affair like the Nist seem to be planning.” Her gaze narrowed. “This sounds… barbaric.”

“We can’t do this, Sash,” Neraxis declared, her blue skin darkening. “Starfleet, the Federation, they have laws, ideals, to uphold.”

Sasha stared at them all in turn, appalled by the response. “You’re supposed to be my friends!”

“We are,” Neraxis countered soberly. “That’s why we’re trying to keep you from risking your career, your whole life, because you can’t take No for an answer.”

“But it’s wrong! The Captain’s denying me my right to see justice done!”

“Justice, Friend Sasha?” Kitirik asked. “Or Vengeance? The two seem interchangeable to many humanoids.”

“There’s no difference, Kit!”

“Really?” Eydiir asked.

“Sasha, the man is going to be killed for his crimes,” Jonas pointed out. “Whether you’re there to witness it or not. I mean, until yesterday you didn’t even know he existed! At least now you’ll have the knowledge that he won’t be spending the rest of his life on Orion or somewhere else, living off his blood money. Isn’t that some sort of comfort for you?”

“If it was, Jonas, would I be acting this way? I have to see this bastard in the flesh! I have to see him suffer and die with my own eyes!”

Jonas had paled, eyes wide. “Sasha, this isn’t you… I can’t believe you really feel this way about wanting to see another living being be put to death.”

“Can’t you?” Anger was boiling over in her now, at him, at all of them, and their concerted efforts to refuse to understand, to refuse to help her. “Maybe someone should go murder your mother and see how you feel then?”

Eydiir slammed her fist on the table. “ENOUGH! No matter the excuse, that is uncalled for! And if you’re half the woman I believe you are, you will apologise for that, and now!”

Sasha swallowed, feeling her temperature double from shame, certain her face was as red as blood. She could barely look at Jonas as she muttered, “I’m sorry, Jonas. I didn’t mean that, honestly.”

The young man nodded, but looked like he was ready to cry, which made her feel twice as bad.

“I don’t think any of us can fully know what this means to you, Sasha,” Giles offered gently, breaking the tense silence between them. “We’ve heard you talk about your mother. And I’ve talked with your Dad about her, too.”

Sasha looked up at him suspiciously. “You did? When?”

He blushed a little. “The, uh, the first night we arrived, when I ended up in the brig. We talked: about her, and you, and what he went through with the Bel-Zon.” He coughed, averting his gaze. “I had a closer talk with him than I ever did with my own father. Funny, that… or sad. Or maybe both.” He looked up again. “If your Dad says that it’s wrong to want to go and see this man die, you should take his word for it-”

Now she felt her expression tighten, not at all liking the course of this conversation. And she accepted that she was not going to get anywhere with them. She wasn’t going; it was a stupid idea to begin with. “No. Of course not. I’m just… upset. Can we forget everything that happened here?”

Eydiir nodded. “It would be for the best. Take some solace in knowing the man will pay for his crimes, even if you cannot witness the payment being made.”

Sasha offered them a smile. “Yes. You’re right.”

The others seemed to relax at her concession.

Eydiir didn’t. But she chose to stay silent, for now.

Deck 2, Mess Hall:

Hrelle and the Security Chief Lt. Abed were together, eating and talking business, when they saw Alpha Squad enter, approaching the replicator units. Hrelle was picking at his salad, watching them.

Sitting opposite him, Abed noted with a grin, “You know, if you imagine the salad is chicken and beef, it’ll seem more palatable.”

“I doubt it,” Hrelle said absently, nodding to the group before raising his voice. “Alpha Squad, there are seats over here!”

Some of them looked in his direction and waved in the affirmative.

Sasha ignored him.

“Damn it,” he muttered. “She’s still angry with me. It's been almost a day since our fight. I left messages on her terminal, but she’s never responded.”

“That’s definitely not like her. Want me to have a word?”

“No thanks, Prakash. Don’t take it the wrong way, but I don’t want her to feel like we’re all ganging up on her.”

“Captain? Commander?” It was Giles, Jonas and the other members of Alpha Squad, carrying trays of lunch with them. “Are you sure we can sit here?”

“Course you can,” Abed pointed out. “Be warned, though, that future postings in Starfleet may be to vessels with segregated mess halls for enlisted personnel and officers, so enjoy basking in our beloved commissioned company while you can.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that. The Captain could always just give us field promotions now?” Neraxis suggested, looking expectantly at Hrelle.

“Kiss my furry ass, Cadet.”

Neraxis chuckled, while Kitirik leaned forward towards Eydiir and asked, “Respected Friend, am I correct in assuming that the Captain does not literally wish this of anyone?”

“You are correct. It is merely banter.”

“Ahh.” The Qarari popped a replicated locust into his mouth and swallowed, looking around to ensure everyone was listening. “So the Captain’s invitation for Friend Neraxis to kiss his posterior was just an example of his being… tongue in cheek?”

Giles rolled his eyes as Kitirik chuckled in his people’s unique style. “I apologise to everyone. We’ve tried our best to curb this.”

“I like it,” the Security Officer laughed, aware of Sasha’s continued contrived silence. “Hey Sash, are you prepared for the new Talarian simulation?”

Sasha picked at her curry. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

“Commander T’Varik isn’t expecting a perfect score for your first time, so don’t let her rattle you.”

“I won’t, Lieutenant.”

The table went quiet, with people glancing at each other, including Hrelle and Abed, who continued with, “The Captain is conducting an informal tactical class with the other Squad Leaders this evening. With his considerable experience against Orions, Nausicaans and Tholians, you could pick up a few tips.”

“Is it mandatory?”

Hrelle slammed down his fork, ignoring the looks from those around him as he glared at his stepdaughter. “No, it’s not! And how long do you intend to keep this up?”

She still stared at her plate. “I don’t know what you mean, Sir.”

He slammed his fist on the table. "Damn it, Sasha!"

Everyone looked at him now.

“Captain,” Abed prompted gently.

Hrelle breathed in, forcing himself to calm down as he rose. “I’m done with my rabbit food. Lt. Abed, have Alpha Squad’s Leader report to Sickbay to see about the pole she has lodged up her kiester.”

Abed decided to not to take his suggestion literally.

Deck 4, Training Holodeck:

Sasha sat in the command chair at the centre of the simulated bridge, eyes fixed on the viewscreen without actually looking at it, ears hearing the reports of her squad at their various stations without actually listening to them.

In front of her, Giles sat at the helm. “Approaching Talarian vessel, stopping at four thousand kilometres and holding position.”

At her Security station, Neraxis double checked her readings and announced, “The vessel’s weapons are off-line, no other vessels in proximity.”

From his station at Engineering, Jonas offered, “They’ve had a radiation leak from their primary reactor, but no sign of an imminent warp core breach.”

From the auxiliary Medical station, Eydiir added, “I am detecting multiple Talarians onboard, reporting injuries. I am alerting all primary and secondary medical teams to the transporter room with appropriate equipment.”

At Operations again, Kitirik finished with, “Captain, as per procedure I am sending communications to the Talarians offering assistance.”

“Belay that. Tactical, power all weapons.”

All eyes turned to her, Neraxis asking, “Excuse me, Captain?”

“You heard me. Power all weapons. Everyone else, focus on your stations.”

After a confused heartbeat, the squad returned to their own screens, as Neraxis announced, “All weapons powered.”

“Lock phasers and photon torpedoes on the vessel.”

Now Giles turned around in his chair. “Sash, what the hell-”

She ignored him. “Tactical, I said lock phasers and photon torpedoes on the enemy vessel!”

“No,” the Bolian replied simply, looking shocked and appalled, even if it was all just a simulation.

Sasha turned and faced her, her body and face and voice all taut fury. “You’re relieved of duty. Mr Arrington, take over Tactical, follow my orders!”

Giles rose - but didn’t move. “No, Captain.”

Now Eydiir rose, approaching her. “No more, Sasha. You cannot continue like this. This is not you. You are acting irrationally. You have insulted your friends. You have spoken of breaking Starfleet regulations. And your actions here have gone against the ideals I know you possess.” She reached out, resting a hand on Sasha’s arm. “Please, let us help you-”

But Sasha pulled away, looking ready to strike her.

A familiar voice filled the room. “Computer: Pause Training Scenario.” Seconds later, T’Varik entered through the simulated bridge doors, striding up to Sasha. “Explain your actions.”

“Shouldn’t you be asking that of those crewmembers who refuse to obey orders, Commander?”

“Cadets Nemm and Arrington were within their rights to refuse orders which contravened Starfleet policy about the treatment of hostiles in wartime. The Talarian ship was depowered, its weapons offline-”

“We faced depowered Talarians before, and we still lost people because they decided to commit a selfish, murderous act of self-destruction, and take as many of us along as they could.”

“That was a different vessel, a different situation-”

“The Talarians have proven themselves to be cowardly murderers! They forfeited any rights or considerations under civilised law! Punishing them now before they kill any more Starfleet personnel is the quickest, easiest course of action to take!”

The Vulcan’s face tightened. “Cadet Hrelle, this scenario is not designed for you to find the quickest, easiest course. Life does not function like that. Especially not life in Starfleet. The decisions you make as the captain of a starship will almost always be difficult ones-”

“Excuse me, Commander,” Sasha interrupted archly. “But what the hell do you know about commanding a starship anyway? You’ve spent your entire career hiding away at the Academy, sending others out into space to do the real work! Like the human saying goes, ‘Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.’”

T’Varik regarded her for a moment longer, before responding with, “Cadet Sasha Hrelle, effective immediately you are suspended from active and academic duties pending disciplinary action and a Counseling assessment. You are dismissed.”

Sasha trembled with rage, but turned and departed.

Deck 2, Counselor’s Office:

“What am I supposed to do? Why am I not reaching her?”

Kami shrugged. “Because she’s a stubborn bitch?”

Hrelle frowned. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s not meant to be. She’s a stubborn bitch. So am I. All the best women are.” She leaned against her desk. “Was her mother like that?”

He refused to answer. Instead, his stomach growled. Loudly. "Damn diet."

Kami smirked, before moving to a nearby table, returning and dropping a plate of half-finished shuris pie. “This is left over from my lunch.”

“Mother’s Cubs...” He had smelled it from the moment he entered her office, and tried to ignore the cravings it raised in him. He lifted it up and began greedily devouring it, flakes flying about as he swallowed the delicious portions of meat with a minimum of any damn vegetables.

She sat down again. “Should I leave you two alone?” The Caitian ran her claws through her mane. “I’ll go and have a word with her.” When her door buzzer sounded, she called out, “Enter.”

As he saw his First Officer enter, Hrelle pushed the plate with the remains of shuris pie back across the table towards Kami.

Kami reached over and dusted off the flakes clinging to his uniform. “Don’t worry, it’s not your Mom. Promise you won’t tell Dr Ling on him, Commander?”

T’Varik looked sober, even for a Vulcan. “It is fortunate that you are together to hear this. I have just suspended Sasha from duty.”

Hrelle rose to his feet to join them. “What?”

“She chose to resolve the Talarian holodeck simulation by ordering the destruction of the Talarians. When I confronted her about it, she insulted me.”

“She insulted you? What did she say?”

“The content is not important. I am here to request that the Counselor assess her mental and emotional state.”

“I’ll assess it,” Hrelle promised. “I’ll assess the hell out of it-”

Kami reached out and patted him on the shoulder. “Down, boy, and cork that testosterone. Leave this to be settled by the women.”

Deck 2, Gym:

Sasha had changed into her exercise clothes, needing to blow off from steam, and took advantage of being alone to kick and punch at the padded columns set up in one corner of the room, where the floors were also padded. She flexed her fists and tensed as she struck out, her soft-soled shoes sending waves of pain with each kick she made, and grunted and cursed with each strike.

“Nice form.”

She stopped and faced the intruder. “What do you want?”

Kami slipped out of her jacket and cast it aside, before reached up and ponytailing her mane. “You already know. I was going to see you later today, but obviously the business with T’Varik has forced me to move it up to now. We have to talk about what’s going on. ”

“No. We don’t.” She started towards the doorway.

The Counselor reached out and grabbed her by the arm, stopping her. “Yes. We do.”

“Let go.”

Kami batted her eyes teasingly. “And what if I don’t?”

“You’ll regret it.”

Now the Counselor purred. “Ooh, that almost sent a chill down my spine. You’ve been taking lessons in intimidation from your father.”

Sasha’s face darkened. “He’s not my father. Now let go!”

Kami didn’t move.

Sasha swung out - only to find herself flung to the mats, with Kami standing over her, looking down to flex the three large toes on each of her bare feet. “I read that you reached the Fourth Tier on the Academy’s K’Gresirr team. Pretty impressive - for a non-Caitian.” She rolled her neck. “Come on, get in position and show me what you got.”

Sasha glared up at her. “I’m not fighting you.”

“Well, that’ll make it easier for me, then.” Kami stretched her limbs, her tail swishing in anticipation behind her, her hands raised in an opening move. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my claws in. Wouldn’t want to scratch that thin skin you’ve been sporting lately. K’Nill!”

Sasha glared at her a moment longer, ignoring the traditional call to begin the fight. She helped herself up and turned to leave.

And thus wasn’t ready for Kami racing up and slamming her foot into the back of one of her knees, sending her down to the mats again.

The tension of the last day erupted from her. Sasha rose and twisted into an attack pose. “You want some? Come and get some!”

She charged, striking out in the swift, wide arcs favoured by the Caitian martial art. Kami dodged them easily, offering only playful slaps in return, as they danced around each other. “I’m a bit rusty. But this is my people’s fighting art. As good as you are, there are things you are simply not physically capable of doing.”

As if in demonstrations, Kami sent Sasha down to the mats again.

The girl looked up, wiping blood from the corner of her mouth. “What’s wrong, Counselor? Finally claiming him for your own?”

Kami’s gaze narrowed. “Oh, you’re better than that, Sash. And you’re better than this, too.”

Sasha rose and struck out, again and again, harder and harder each time. And each time, Kami blocked the blows. And when she chose to dodge instead of block, letting Sasha swing out into open air, it only angered her further. Her arms ached. Her head felt like it was about to explode.

Now she stopped and straightened up, still facing Kami, breathing hard, bent over. She started towards her, but the Counselor held up a hand. “K’Nuran!” With the traditional call to end the fight, Kami straightened up as well. “Between my agility and your age, we’re evenly matched. Maybe now you’re ready to talk about what you’re feeling-”

Sasha twisted and kicked out, slamming her foot into her opponent’s crotch and sending the Caitian flying backwards.

Kami was completely unprepared, collapsing into a foetal position as Sasha pursued, dropping, grabbing and twisting the female’s tail until she screeched, striking out with her elbow. But Sasha was ready for it, blocking the elbow and pinning the arm back, allowing Sasha to drive her fist into Kami’s muzzle.

Sasha returned to her feet. “Don’t you DARE try to counsel me! Rmorra, your husband, the father of your cub, was MURDERED! Taken from you! For some worthless broken pottery on a forgotten planet! Your cub grew up without him around, will never present him with a mate or grandcubs! And you’ll spend the rest of your life never growing old together, never seeing him, never holding him again! I know if you had the chance to see his murderers die, you’d take it in a heartbeat!

But you, my friends, T’Varik, and that son of a bitch on the bridge would deny me that, preaching ethics and civilisation and other shit! You sanctimonious hypocrites!”

Kami held her muzzle, certain she’d felt it crack as she tasted blood in her mouth. “Sash- We’re trying- trying to help you-”

Sasha’s face tightened as she released the tension in her fists. “Then treat me like an adult. And let me make my own decisions.”

Deck 4, Sickbay:

Hrelle stormed through the doorway. He hated these places. He hated being a patient in them. He hated even more visiting others in them. The report that brought him down here was succinct, and so didn’t prepare him for the shock on seeing Kami sitting on the edge of one of the biobeds, wincing as Dr Ling worked an autosuture on the Counselor’s muzzle. “What in the Seven Hells-”

Kami held up a hand towards him. “Shush. Too loud. Head ringing.” She hissed when the doctor pushed the autosuture too close.

Dr Ling gave her a look, but said nothing and continued.

“You want to tell me what happened?” Hrelle demanded softly.

“A counseling session with Sasha, by way of a K’Gresirr match.” She winced again, resting her hand on her lap. “I called for K’Nuran, but then she got me with an illegal kick to my babymaker, before wrenching my tail and then finishing me off with a shot to the face.”

“Son of a... what the hell happened to ‘Leave this to be settled by the women’?”

Kami winced again. “It was settled. To be fair, I got a few illegal shots of my own first.”

Just then T’Varik entered from an open doorway leading into the area of sickbay where the other beds sat, and patients could be treated with more privacy. “Cadet Hrelle has not been severely injured. She remains disturbingly sullen and unresponsive, however.”

Hrelle growled, turning to the door. “She’ll respond to me-”

“Esek, wait!” Kami winced again, clutching her lap. “Damn, that girl knows how to literally hit below the belt.” Then she looked up at him. “We have to talk.”

“After I’ve dealt with her-”

“No. Now.” She breathed in, ignoring the doctor’s continued ministrations. “Captain… after due reconsideration, I think that you should take her to Tau Beta.”

Hrelle exchanged bemused expressions with T’Varik, before responding. “What? After all you said to me about letting the past rest-”

“That was my advice to you, and if it was just you, I’d stick to that advice. But Sasha isn’t you. As a medical practitioner, I can confirm that not everybody responds the same way to the same treatment.”

Dr Ling harrumphed at that and departed.

Kami continued. “It may involve the same criminal and the same crimes, but Sasha has a different set of life experiences to you. I… I think she needs this.”

“I must admit to being disturbed by this assessment,” T’Varik admitted. “The cadet requires continued counseling-”

“Which I will of course provide regardless - but it’s not guaranteed that she will respond in a positive way. And there’s a time factor involved now: it will take days to reach Tau Beta in time.” She looked to Hrelle. “If it’s missed, it will be an opportunity forever lost, and she may never forgive you for it.”

Hrelle’s stomach twisted into knots. “And you really want me to take her?”

“No. I really want her to see reason now and not have to put you through this. But we all know we don’t always get what we really want. She is going to be affected by this, whether she attends the execution or not. And I have to reluctantly conclude that letting her go to this hellish thing will cause her less psychological and emotional damage than forbidding her.” She touched her muzzle, moving it this way and that. “Regret for the things we do tends to be more repairable than regret for the things we don’t do.”

“I remain dubious about the argument,” T’Varik commented. “But I will accept your counsel on this matter.” She looked to Hrelle. “And though I acknowledge your initial unwillingness to attend, Captain, it would be logical for you to accompany her as her guardian. You did, after all, receive an invitation yourself.”

“Yes,” Kami agreed. “She’ll want to go alone, knowing how you feel about it. Absolutely refuse that demand.”

“Damn right I will.” He looked to his first officer. “Make the necessary contacts to the Nist, do the admin work to sign us both off, and get Chief Grev to ready the Sureswift for an immediate launch.”

T’Varik nodded. “I would strongly recommend another pilot accompany you, for safety and security reasons.”

He nodded back, thinking for a moment before looking to the two women again. “I don’t want to take a full crewmember away for so long. How about Giles? Do you think he would do it? They seem to be getting along together better now than at the start. I wouldn’t order him to do it, of course, but…”

T’Varik considered the suggestion. “Normally I would expect to have him serve as Acting Squad Leader in Sasha’s absence, but he does have the necessary practical qualifications, and they can both continue their studies together.”

“Yes,” Kami agreed. “It would be good for her to have a peer. As well as someone else to talk to.” She looked rueful now. “I have a feeling it’s going to be chillier than an Andorian winter onboard that shuttle for a while.”

Hrelle believed her, turning and entering the other sickbay room, where Ling was running a final check on Sasha before leaving her with her stepfather. She sat there, dour, finding other things in the room to look at.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he announced. “I’m taking you to Tau Beta.”

Now Sasha looked at him, regarding him, as if checking to see if he was joking or not.

“We leave in an hour,” he continued. “Bring civilian clothes; we can’t attend this damned thing as representatives of Starfleet.”

“I can go alone.”

“That’s not up to you.”

“I don’t need you with me-”

“YOU DON’T GET TO DICTATE TERMS HERE!”

She winced, drew back from him, looking as utterly shocked as he felt by his own outburst. Looking fearful, as she had never done before by him.

He wanted to apologise. He wanted to keep yelling at her. To shake her out of this and convince her how wrong this was. He wanted to crawl away in shame for scaring her like this, despite the circumstances.

Instead he forced himself to relax, to keep his following words on the level of a whisper. “And you’ll apologise to both the Counselor and the Commander for your behaviour to them. And be thankful we weren’t fighting. If you tried to sucker punch me the way you did Kami, Dr Ling would still be trying to wake you up.”

He turned and departed, ignoring the looks from Kami, T’Varik and the others as he stormed out of Sickbay.

Somewhere Else, Six Years Ago:

Hrelle’s slave cell pen was a stark, cold enclosure with floor mats, an open toilet and no privacy. Most of the thirty slaves slumped to the floor, tired, hungry and despondent. Peran, however, proceeded to the secret compartment in the floor near the corner where they hid things they had collected, notably horrible ration sticks they had saved for times such as this. “Here, some for everyone.”

Hrelle had his back against a wall, looking at all of them, thinking about the failed attempt. Everything should have worked… they should have been on their way by now… but now he allowed himself to be distracted by the Bajoran. “I thought we agreed not to dip into our emergency rations without a vote.”

Peran looked back, offering a slight smile. “My apologies, Captain. You are correct, of course. Should I take the food back while we carry out the proceedings?”

Beside Hrelle, the Klingon, Krihoq, watched with his one good eye, the other one an open socket that he had earned from the Breen months before, along with several smashed skull ridges, and snarled, “Bring me my ration stick, you ptakh, or I’ll feast on your miserable bones.”

Peran never looked back as he continued handing out the food. “You would find me poor sustenance, Klingon. Bajorans are held together with gristle, prayer and bad luck.”

“Mostly bad luck, I hear.” Nitreek sat as far away as she could from Krihoq as she accepted a stick. She was a frail-looking, pale, coal-haired woman of Uhlan rank, a former technician on a Romulan surveillance craft who survived its self-destruction when they were attacked by Orion raiders. Somehow, the girl had been sent here instead of being forced into sex work somewhere else; whether that was a fortunate mistake for her or not was not for Hrelle to say. “It’s a wonder the Cardassians haven’t exterminated your people outright.”

Peran handed her a stick, unoffended. “But if they did that, who would they have to look down on?”

Hrelle exchanged glances with Peran as he accepted his own ration, the two of them almost smiling despite the circumstances. Hrelle once more thanked the Great Mother for having the man here; what he lacked in combat or technical skills, he more than compensated for with his counseling. And his nous. “Hold it, Monk.” He split his own ration stick in two. “You seem to have miscounted. You forgot to take one for yourself.”

Peran looked at the proffered half. “That’s okay, Captain. I am fasting. It is a Bajoran religious holiday.”

“Oh? Is it the Feast of Talking Crap? Eat, or I’ll pin you down and feed you.”

Opposite Nitreek, Raul Ortez, an older Terran male, a former officer with the Federation Merchant Marines, with receding grey hair and hangdog features, rose to stared at them in disbelief. “How can you just sit here, acting like nothing’s happened?”

“We know what happened,” Hrelle noted between bites. “We tried to escape, and failed.”

“Yes, but why? The Breen suddenly had their brute squad surrounding us! Without warning! That was no coincidence!”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that the only way they could have shown up like that was if they were tipped off! Someone here betrayed us!”

The room held its breath, but everyone rose to their feet, looking to each other before Hrelle declared, “Your hunger’s talking. And your disappointment.”

“No,” Nitreek disagreed warily. “He’s right. We’ve watched them carefully, monitored their shifts, the arrival of the freighter, the change in work rotas and the security sweeps… everything was accounted for. Except betrayal.”

“I refuse to believe it,” Hrelle declared, shaking his head. One of them would betray the rest? Nonsense. “Maybe there was something we didn’t account for? Maybe they’ve been secretly monitoring us, knew all along what we were going to do?”

“That is not their way, Captain.” It was Yerpsek, a Yridian engineering specialist taken from one of his people’s merchant craft. With his big ears and ubiquitously-wrinkled pink skin, he looked like a shaved rat soaked in vinegar and left in the sun too long to dry, but he maintained his people’s reputation for furtiveness, as well as information gathering. “The Breen are as blunt and obvious as hammers. Their policy with regards to their slaves is not pro-active, just reactive.”

“Exactly!” Ortez shouted, looking to the rest of the group, feeding their growing shock and anger. “Thanks to your poor leadership, Captain, we have a traitor among us, scuppering our plans!”

That drew more sounds of outrage. Hrelle glowered at the man; he had been in nominal command of this group before Hrelle had arrived, and always resented how the others voted the newcomer, with his size and Starfleet experience into leadership. Now, while he did his part to work towards their mutual freedom, still he always took every opportunity to erode Hrelle’s standing among them. And this latest failure was a golden one for him.

“No!” Hrelle shouted them down, gaining their attention once more from sheer force of will. “Why in the Seven Hells would any of us damage our chances of escape?”

“Maybe there are those among us who are naturally inclined towards treachery?” Nitreek suggested, shooting a look at Krihoq.

The Klingon growled, baring his teeth.

“Stow it, you two.” Hrelle continued to address the crowd; without their support, he would have no leadership, they would have no unity, and they would never get out of there alive. “This is about our mutual survival. Yerpsek, you’re our Breen expert. Do they ever offer bribes or rewards to prisoners for information?”

“No, Captain. They are too assured of their ability to overcome any rebellion or escape attempt.”

Now Hrelle focused on Ortez. “There, see? I’d love to hear what other possible reason someone here might sabotage our efforts.”

Ortez was sullen and silent, as were the others. Hrelle was ready to dismiss such talk and begin planning for the next attempt.

Until someone did speak up. “There may be another reason, Captain.”

Hrelle turned in place. “Peran?”

The Bajoran monk had his hands tucked into the tattered folds of his robes, his face worn and sad and regretful. “It may be because a member of your group had a vision. A vision from his Prophets. A vision that told him to stop the escape, as it was doomed to fail, resulting in the deaths of all.”

No. No… “Peran… it can’t be…”

“You, Monk?” Krihoq exclaimed, his one eye saucering. “You betrayed us?”

“I refuse to believe it,” Nitreek frowned.

“That’s because it’s not true.” Hrelle approached his friend warily. “You’re covering for someone else, aren’t you? You have to be.”

But the look in Peran’s tear-welled eyes told him otherwise. “No, Captain. This all falls upon me. As I stood distracting the Breen by the bay door, my mind cleared, and… and the Prophets spoke to me. It was not the first time; I remember them coming to me as a boy, guiding me to the people who would protect me and lead me off of my homeworld to escape the Cardassians.

And they returned to me today. They told me that if we entered the freighter and departed, it would have been blown to pieces within minutes because of a faulty baffle plate on their warp core. Now was not the time to try and escape. I couldn’t get back to you to warn you, the plan was already in motion. So… I informed the Breen.” He swallowed. “I am truly sorry, Captain. All of you. But I promise you, my vision was real.”

Hrelle felt as if the Breen had stunned him again. “Why... Why did you have to say anything? You could have kept quiet-”

Peran smiled. “I am not one for hiding the truth, especially when it involves my faith. And if this was not settled now, it would have ripped this group to shreds.”

“Hah!” Ortez crowed, turning to the others again. “So much for Starfleet’s assurances about there being no traitor, eh?” As he cultivated more fury, the man looked more confident than Hrelle had ever seen him. “Your Bajoran friend condemned three of our fellow prisoners to death, and us to further servitude in this Purgatory! Now… what do you intend to do about it?”

Hrelle still stared at Peran, wanting to throttle him, wanting to shield him. He looked so regretful about the outcome of his sabotage, and yet still resolute that his act had been the correct one. Now he faced Ortez, growling, “What do you expect me to do?”

Cruel satisfaction marred Ortez’s features. “That should be obvious. There’s only one punishment for betrayal among us, Caitian.”

“No!” At the protests from the others, he repeated, “No! We are not animals! We have to be better than our captors!”

“Well, that’s not surprising!” Ortez addressed the crowd as well. “Of course he’s going to protect his friend!” At the urging of the others, he faced Hrelle once more. “I say we call a vote! All those in favour of the Bajoran being killed for his crimes against us, raise your hand!”

So many hands rose. Nearly all of them.

Hrelle met all their expressions, silently pleading with them individually - Nitreek, Krihoq, James, Yerpsek, Al-Haq, Yung, O’Hanlen - but failing to reach them.

“I believe that’s almost unanimous, Captain,” Ortez sneered. “And as our leader, it falls upon you to deliver the sentence.”

USS Surefoot, Deck 2, Alpha Squad Quarters:

Giles shifted in his place on the floor, silently avoiding Neraxis, sitting opposite him, teasing him once more by nudging his foot, as all of them continued to silently study the notes they collected for the latest Astrophysics exam. The group had been subdued after the incident in the holodeck; Giles hoped that the Commander, the Captain and the Counselor could sort things out.

Thoughts of family returned him to the visit he had from his aunt Lucille, captain of the Impala, who pursued him here to assign him the task of spying on Captain Hrelle and relaying any intelligence on an encrypted communicator she’d given him. He hadn’t done it - yet - partly because he felt terrible about doing it, partly because… there was nothing to report.

Captain Hrelle was unconventional, of course, but he never did anything suspicious. What could he do? They were on a simple run around the Leonis Sector, delivering supplies and maintaining buoys. The ordinariness here outweighed any extraordinariness that could occur, and Aunt Lucille’s claims that Captain Hrelle must have been some sort of undercover spy or criminal seemed outlandish.

The door to their quarters buzzed, waiting for Eydiir, sitting next to Jonas and appearing more sullen than usual, called out, “Enter.”

The door slid open, and Captain Hrelle’s large frame filled the doorway as Alpha Squad rose to their feet. “Apologies for the interruption, but may I speak with Mr Arrington privately?”

“Me, Sir?” Giles glanced at the others, before continuing with, “Of course. Where?”

The Caitian nodded to the door that led into the squad’s bedroom, following the younger man inside and letting the door to it slide closed again. He glanced around the set of three bunk beds and the clothes and other possessions, his nostrils wrinkling in disgust. “Seven Hells, teenagers stink…” He shook his head. “Sorry. How are you and the others doing, Giles?”

“Us, Sir? We’re, ah, we’re okay.”

“Good, good. This… business with the Nist has been upsetting, to say the least. Sasha did not take my forbidding her to attend very well.” Hrelle frowned. “But I’ve since changed my mind, thanks mostly to the Counselor. We’re hoping to leave in an hour. And Commander T’Varik has suggested that I bring another pilot along, to cover for me, and to mind the ship while we’re at the Nist outpost. I was thinking you might be interested in the job?”

“Me, Sir?”

Hrelle nodded. “You have the experience, both with piloting and with spending long periods of time in a small environment - if I recall correctly, you once told me you went alone for eight days in your solar yacht around Beta Aquilae.”

Giles paled, surprised that he would remember a detail like that. “Yes, Sir.”

“Well, this is gonna be longer: five days there and five days back, with a few hours waiting for us. The Sureswift is better equipped than any solar yacht, with a replicator, sonic shower, entertainment unit, the works… and, if you accept this, you’ll be in command of both the vessel and the mission.”

“In command? Me? Why?”

“I don’t expect you’ll face any trouble with the Nist while we’re at the outpost, but I want you to have the necessary credentials just in case. The time away from the Surefoot will count towards both your Command and Long Range Mission Academy credits, as well as earning actual time in service and pay. T’Varik is arranging for you and Sasha to keep up with your studies and take the Astrophysics exam remotely, so neither of you will fall behind.” Hrelle then offered a smile. “And you’ll be one of a select few to pilot a ship at a sustained Warp 9.5. And in a ship that small, you can almost feel the dilation of the space outside when you touch the viewport.”

The thought of that was… enticing, Giles had to admit to himself.

“There will be a downside, however: chiefly being stuck onboard for something more than ten days. And… Sasha and I aren’t on friendly terms at the moment. Hopefully we can come to terms with this, but… she could probably do to have someone around besides me.” He smiled. “So could I. I might even bore you with a few stories of my time on the Furyk.”

Giles smiled back. It sounded like an incredible opportunity for him, despite the circumstances. “I’d… be honoured, Sir.”

Hrelle nodded. “Then you’d better pack. Report to Aft Shuttlebay at 1700 Hours and begin pre-flight checks on the Sureswift.”

Giles straightened up. “Yes, Sir.”

Then the Captain departed, leaving Giles staring out the door, before dropping to reach under his own bunk and collecting his case to pack.

“Giles?”

He looked up to see Eydiir, Jonas, Neraxis and Kitirik all crowding around the doorway, all obviously curious about the meeting leaving Eydiir to express it. “What was that about?”

He was flinging clothes, underwear, socks into his case. “The Captain and Sasha are going to the execution now. They need me as a co-pilot… well, actually the mission commander.” He couldn’t help but be excited over that.

“Really?”

He looked up at the Capellan girl, wondering if the dubious noise was some sort of dig against his being selected. Then he saw the concern in her eyes for Sasha. “Yes, really. I think the Counselor had something to do with it.”

“I never would have expected it,” Jonas admitted. “Maybe there’s more to it?”

“Sure, Scrappy,” Neraxis quipped. “They’re both really on a secret mission. You’ll have to keep an eye on them, Giles.”

Giles continued to pack. “Yeah…” He turned over a sweater, finding the communicator. Acting as casually as he could, he added it to his case and continued packing, just as a familiar voice from the entrance to the quarters drew everyone’s attention. “What’s going on?”

“Sasha!” Jonas exclaimed. “Your father was just here-”

“You mean the Captain, don’t you?” Sasha squeezed past them and into the sleeping section, glaring at Giles. “What are you doing?”

Her tone was challenging, angry, and made him start for a moment, until he remembered what Captain Hrelle had said, and finally replied, “Your fa- the Captain asked if I could come along, to co-pilot. Hope that’s okay with you.”

She stared back blankly, before nodding and going to her bunk to get her own case.

“Sasha… are you sure…” Eydiir offered tentatively.

But the girl never looked up. “Make sure everyone passes the Astrophysics Exam; Giles and I will be taking it remotely.”

Her tone ended any further discussions then and there.

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 1, Conference Room:

Commander T’Varik stood at the end of the room, beside the display listing the key points of the morning meeting. Naturally the Vulcan did not need to refer to the display to remember the points being discussed. “The operation to continue retrofitting the subspace communications buoys in this sector of space is proceeding ahead of schedule; given your relative lack of experience with the practical applications of extravehicular activity, I must commend your overall performance with this.”

The three cadet squads stood or sat around the room, each of them naturally separated; Eydiir remained standing, though a seat had been offered to her by Jonas when they first arrived. She preferred to stand; with Sasha and Giles away, going to that… distasteful display on Tau Beta… they were two squad members short compared to the rest, and though they were all meant to be colleagues working together, it left her feeling at a disadvantage.

It hadn’t helped that Sasha and she had left on such cold and distant terms. Sasha truly believed that Eydiir, given the latter’s life spent among the Capellans, a violent and vendetta-driven people, would understand Sasha’s own need to see the killer of her mother killed himself. Eydiir did understand; that did not mean she approved. She hoped that Sasha’s thirst for vengeance would be sated after this, and that they could go back to being friends again.

“In less commendable news,” T’Varik continued. “Chief Engineer Grev has reported that several cadets have been witnessed visiting the secondary hull via the pylon Jeffries tubes. He refused to provide the names of these cadets, but confirmed that they are not engineering staff and have neither a requirement nor authorisation to visit these areas. I can only conclude that these visits are for the purpose of clandestine sexual activity.”

She allowed the expected titters among the young crowd to pass before continuing. “These trips will cease immediately. My relaxation of Academy regulations regarding sex between cadets did not include a mandate to enter restricted areas of this ship, or to engage in Public Displays of Affection. I strongly suggest you behave like mature individuals and limit such activities to your quarters, or to your private holodeck time.”

“Excuse me, Commander,” Gamma Shift’s Medical Specialist Bob Beaudine, a strapping Terran with pepper-black hair, spoke up, smiling. “But with six people living together, privacy isn’t always possible for… such activities.”

“Consider it a test of ingenuity, Mr Beaudine. To continue, the Astrophysics Exams will commence from 1600 Hours tomorrow. Your assessment times will be posted, and I advise-” She paused as she saw Jared Miro, Leader of Beta Squad, raise his hand. “What is it, Mr Miro?”

He rose, unnecessarily, to get everyone’s attention. He was Argelian, looking very humanoid with swarthy skin and a lean face, which now flushed further. “Commander, I was hoping you could satisfy our curiosity: Sasha Hrelle and Giles Arrington have left the ship suddenly. Has something happened?”

Eydiir glowered. She did not like him. She never did. His people espoused love and sex the way hers did a martial attitude to life. But his own attitude translated into a smarmy, libertine demeanour, and he had attempted to seduce Sasha, insulting her father the Captain when his efforts proved unsuccessful. She preferred to try to ignore him. Now, however, she felt the need to speak up. “What business is it of yours?”

He gave her a look of exaggerated hurt. “There’s no need for such aggression, Cadet. I was merely showing concern for our colleagues. And for yourselves.” He looked back at T’Varik now. “With Alpha Squad’s first and second-in-command away, I am offering my services as Squad Leader for the duration, to supervise them with the continued buoy retrofits and the Exam.”

“You can supervise kissing my hind ridge, Miro,” Neraxis offered him, the Bolian’s blue skin darkening, as she offered him her middle finger in punctuation.

“We don’t need your help,” Jonas added, scowling. “Or want it.”

“You are proving to be a most invidious individual, Mr Miro,” Kitirik noted, adding, “Apologies for my outburst.”

“I believe my Squad has made itself clear how it feels about your suggestion,” Eydiir finished coldly.

“Alpha Squad,” T’Varik spoke up, recapturing everyone’s attention. “Regardless of your feelings about Mr Miro’s offer, I will make the final decisions regarding your supervision.” Now she focused on Jared. “Sit down, Mr Miro.”

The Argelian did so, avoiding looking in the general direction of Alpha Squad. But Eydiir continued to glare at him.

Shuttlecraft Sureswift, Deep Space:

Giles didn’t notice the beeping at first. He was in one of the two cots in the sleeping compartment of the shuttle, trying to get used to the arrangements. The compartment was smaller than the one in their squad quarters, and there were different ambient sounds. And his sleep had already been troubled, given the tension within the small craft between the other occupants: Captain Hrelle and Sasha, who had made awkward silences an art form whenever they were together, and only appeared to relax when they were alone with Giles.

Still, it was a persistent enough sound for him to finally take notice, though he didn’t really stir fully awake until he realised it was coming from his case, directly beneath the bunk. He sat up in the dark, rubbing his eyes as he leaned over and drew out his case, opening it and fishing through his clothes for the source of the sound-

Yes, it was definitely his communicator, an old-fashioned model from the previous century: matt black finish, with a flip-top silver grid and a classic minimalist design to the function buttons and round display, which now blinked in time with the beeps. It looked like an antique, but he knew better.

Suddenly aware that one or both of the other occupants of the shuttle might enter at any time, he worked the controls. “Umm… hello?”

“Giles? Is that you?”

His jaw dropped. “Dad?”

The voice came through loud and clear, and Giles remained amazed by the technology, a product of his older brother’s office at Starfleet Intelligence, allowing real-time audio communication over so many light-years. “Son! It’s good to hear your voice! Can you speak?”

Hearing his father’s voice lifted his spirits, even as he continued to feel dismay and guilt over the secretive nature of their communication. “Yes! Yes, I can! How are you?”

“How am I? I’ve been worried sick! Why haven’t you contacted us? Why did I have to do it?”

“What? I’ve sent letters to you each week-”

“I’m not talking about the official communication, you idiot! Your Aunt Lucille gave you this very valuable device for a special mission! And you’ve not sent one damn report! Are you being kept from contacting us, son?”

“No, Dad, it’s not that!” He was glad it was only audio communications, so he didn’t have to look at the man’s obviously stern expression. “There just hasn’t been anything unusual happening! At least, not until now…”

“Now? What is it? What’s happening now?”

Giles mentally kicked himself for even saying anything; he just felt so obligated to please him. “It’s just- we’re heading for the Tau Beta System.”

“What? That’s not in the Surefoot’s patrol sector!”

“I know. We’re not in the Surefoot, we took the Captain’s Shuttle yesterday. Captain Hrelle and his daughter are going to the Nist’s science outpost. Someone is being executed, and they’ve been invited to attend.”

“Yes, I heard about that. And why are you going along?”

“I’m co-piloting. I’m also… I’m also in command of the mission.”

There was a pause, and then his father said, “That was clever on his part.”

“Dad?”

“Hrelle, giving you that little token of responsibility, make you feel like a big man, while giving him a chance to keep a close eye on you.”

Giles winced. Did his father really think that? “It’s not like that, Dad-”

“From now on, son, I want regular reports. I don’t care if you think what’s happening is noteworthy or not, just report what happens, and let the adults make the decisions. Is that clear?”

Giles felt his face flush. “Dad, Captain Hrelle is not a bad man-”

“Son, no disrespect, but you are a wet-behind-the-ears kid, who has no idea how devious and dangerous that man can be. You know, when your brother was just a little bit older than you, he was already serving onboard the Intrepid, facing down the Tzenkethi at M’Kemas III. You could do worse than to emulate him. Start making regular reports from now on, is that understood?”

Giles felt his face tighten, as he lied, “I have to go, bye.” He slammed the lid down and cut the transmission. Every time he talked to the man, suddenly Giles was eight again instead of eighteen. And his brother Matthew would inevitably be mentioned.

Matthew: the Golden Boy of the Family. Giles grunted to himself. He’d grown up hearing so much from his father, his aunts and uncles about Matt’s efforts in Starfleet. It was later, when he was old enough himself to access the records at the time, that Giles learned that the Intrepid remained in the rear during Starfleet’s last fight with the Tzenkethi, never seeing any action. But certainly talking up a storm about it.

He stowed the communicator, brought up the lights and dressed, before emerging into the rest of the shuttle. The Sureswift was divided into three sections: the aft, with the study/dining area, replicator, entertainment unit, and toilet/sonic shower; the midsection, with the sleeping compartment; and the fore section with the cockpit and single-pad transporter.

It was a remarkable little ship, though with the amount of sustained high-warp travel it was required to do when travel via the Surefoot was impossible or impractical, it was little wonder that its warp core required replacing as often as it did.

He looked forward, seeing the cockpit empty, and wondering where the Captain was-

“Computer: small double pepperoni pizza.”

“Unable to comply. There is a medical override from Chief Medical Officer Doctor Juliet Ling regarding your food choices. You are restricted to one of the following: broccoli and feta omelet; white bean and herb hummus with assorted crudites-”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?”

Giles approached and was about to offer to order him something under his own name, when the door to the toilet opened and Sasha emerged, momentarily startled by the presence of the other two there, before lifting up a PADD from the adjacent table and sliding down to sit on the floor, immediately becoming engrossed in her work in order to avoid acknowledging the Captain’s presence.

He watched Hrelle look at her a moment, before turning to face Giles. “Evening, Giles. No need to rush forward to take over, grab yourself something to eat first.”

“Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir.” He drew in to let the Captain pass - dragging all the tension in the compartment along with him like the nets on a fishing boat. It made Giles’ stomach queasy, reminding him too much of his own household, before his mother finally left to start a new life for herself in some colony on the Outer Rim. He wanted to help them, if only to see someone with a healthy relationship. He called up a coffee from the replicator and looking down at Sasha. “You want one?”

She never looked up. “No thanks.” She set the PADD down and rubbed her eyes. “Gravimetric accretion, subspace compression, micro protoplanetary meshuggenah. It’s all gibberish now. Don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Maybe you’re distracted? Perhaps with unresolved issues?”

Now she peered up at him. “You making a career change towards Counseling?”

He smirked, sliding down to the floor beside her, cradling his ceramic mug in his fingertips. “No thanks, I like talking about myself too much to let others in on the conversation.” He nudged her shoulder with his own. “You know, there’s a veteran Starfleet officer at the front who might be able to help us pass this exam-”

“Cut it out, Giles. You don’t understand.”

“Then I’m sure you can explain it to me. We have plenty of time.”

“There’s nothing to explain.”

“I’m curious: what’s going happen after the execution when we return to the Surefoot? Are you staying in Starfleet? If so, will you ask for a transfer to another ship, or will you stay with us? And if are, will you finally start talking to your father again-”

“He’s not my-”

But he held up a hand, cutting her off. “That’s not you talking, Sash. That’s not the woman who punched out Jared Miro for insulting her father. That’s not the cadet who stood up to my brother to defend her father’s good name.” He smirked. “Or the one who probably wanted to hit me once or twice when we first met. Fortunately, in my case, my charm won you over.”

Sasha had to suppress a smirk of her own, in her effort to stay sullen.

But then he grew serious, sipping at his coffee before continuing. “You know, when I was younger, I was such an ungrateful brat. My father gave me everything he could think of. He gave me a solar yacht. He gave me trips to the Starfleet Museums on Earth with VIP access. He gave me tutors and nannies and cooks who waited on me hand and foot, and made sure that everyone knew whose family I belonged to wherever I went.

But that wasn’t enough for me. I wanted more. I wanted…” He looked up at the ceiling. “I wanted him to read me bedtime stories, and check the closet for monsters. I wanted him to put me on his shoulders so I could touch the sky. I wanted to go rock climbing with him, or gather autumn leaves, or have him teach me to swim instead of hiring someone. And when I was missing my Mom, I wanted him to comfort and reassure me, instead of telling me to man up.” He set aside his coffee cup, its contents no longer desired. “I wanted him to be like the Dad you have.”

“Giles-”

“Don’t throw all that away. There is nothing you two can disagree about, absolutely nothing, that would be worth losing what you have with him.”

She frowned, unable to look at him, as if her tears weighed down her face, as she murmured, “I know. But… I said such terrible things to him. I- I don’t know how to make it up to him.”

“Maybe you don’t have to do anything,” a new voice suggested.

Giles looked up, as did Sasha, as Hrelle entered, standing there before sliding down at Sasha’s other side. He breathed in and out, drawing his knees up and staring at the bare wall opposite them. “Maybe you don’t have to do anything but listen to me.”

”Dad-”

He held up his hand to stop her. “Sasha… I’m sorry. I still believe that what they’re going to do to Giger is morally wrong. And I still believe your mother would agree. But… you have the right to feel differently. I can’t see you, treat you, like you’re still the Runt of the Litter. You’re not my little girl anymore.” His voice broke. “I’m sorry to let you down-”

She twisted in place to hug him.

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged back.

Nearby, Giles reached for his coffee mug and stared silently into it, letting the father and daughter have their moment, thinking about the confession he had made to Sasha about his own father, still shocked at how truthful he’d been.

Somewhere Else, Six Years Ago:

Hrelle’s voice was almost hoarse. He begged, pleaded, demanded that they reconsider their verdict. There was no point, no justification, in killing Peran now. It wouldn’t undo what he had done. It wouldn’t teach him or others a lesson. It would serve nothing but their need for vengeance.

His protests fell on deaf ears.

Hrelle stared in worn disbelief at the mob, his voice breaking. “Listen to me… this isn’t necessary…”

“You heard us, Captain,” Ortez declared, looking both grim and gleeful. “Or are refusing? Are you relinquishing your command over us because you haven’t got the guts to do what is necessary?”

Hrelle almost took him up on that. It was too much, he was too tired and hungry and angry and-

“Esek,” Peran finally said, drawing close to his friend. “I was prepared to accept this fate the moment the Prophets gave me the vision. Please… better that it be done this way, by someone who cares, rather than an anonymous shadow smothering me in my sleep.” He reached out and took the Caitian’s hands in his own. “Why are you so distressed? I’m going to be with the Prophets soon! And you’ll be stuck here eating terrible food and listening to Krihoq and Nitreek bicker endlessly.”

Hrelle felt tears, but they were weak, as he was. “Peran…”

Now the Bajoran reached up, touched Hrelle’s ear, while he closed his eyes in regard. “Your pagh, your spiritual force, is strong. Strong and pure. I know how difficult a task this will be for you. How wracked with guilt you’ll feel afterwards. You must forgive yourself. Promise me you’ll forgive yourself.”

Hrelle could feel himself trembling. Of all the burdens he had carried as a leader, where in command of a ship or this band of slaves, nothing had come close to this. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it.

“The vision the Prophets gave me told me much, Esek,” Peran continued, whispering now. “You will need your strength, and your forgiveness, because… I fear it will be many years before you return to your daughter, and your life. And it won’t be while you’re still here, but elsewhere. But it will happen. You just have to keep going.”

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it.

Peran drew closer, allowing Hrelle to embrace him fully, the Caitian’s hands moving up to the Bajaron’s head as if to cradle it.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t-

CRACK

Hrelle gripped the man’s body tightly, holding him up, cradling his head on the Caitian’s shoulders now that the neck... no longer could. There was a shuddering, as if Peran might have still been alive. But Hrelle knew better, that the shuddering was from his own body; the break had been textbook perfect, the shock sending Peran into immediate unconsciousness, the breathing stopping, and the body would soon follow the brain.

He slowly descended to his knees, guiding the body of his friend, the friend whose life he had just taken, to the floor, guiding his hands to a folded place on his chest and closing the eyes. He half-remembered prayers chanted by the monk, but decided for a simple thought: Goodbye, Peran Sayr. Be with your Prophets. Wherever they were, it has to be a better place than this hole.

“Well,” Ortez was saying loudly, drawing up behind Hrelle, “Now that you’ve finally done your job-”

Later, Hrelle would try and fool himself into thinking that his mind had withdrawn, that it was his body operating on instinct, out of his control.

But that was a lie. He was fully aware of what he was doing as he rose, leaping towards Ortez, baring the man’s throat and sinking his teeth into the bristly flesh, incisors easily piercing the skin and the soft tissue beneath, drawing some away in his mouth as Ortez’s carotid artery sprayed all over his face.

Ortez tried to scream, but only managed a gurgle as his body convulsed, futilely trying to escape. But Hrelle held him close, fingers gouging out his eyes and ripping away his nose and ears as his teeth tore into him, again and again.

The smell of fresh flesh filled his nostrils, as did the hot blood over his own face, his fur and clothes. He crouched over Ortez, growling steadily as he watched the life spurt out of the Terran, blood running away along the cell floor in all directions, until the heart stopped beating.

Hrelle resisted the urge to swallow the first fresh meat he had tasted in nearly a year, spitting it out before looking around him, growling steadily at the horrified faces of Nitreek, Krihoq, all the others, the men and women who had pushed him into committing a senseless, needless murder today - and ended up with more than they bargained for.

They were backing away.

Good.

An hour later, the asteroid went on alert, as the freighter that had been docked had exploded shortly after departing. When the Breen came investigating the two dead bodies, Hrelle had calmed down enough to confess, fully expecting to be killed for it.

Instead, he found himself sold to the Orions for their fighting rings...

Shuttlecraft Sureswift, Planet Tau Beta VI:

Hrelle tugged at the sleeves of his civilian jacket, unable to close it fully over his belly, which grumbled loudly as if on cue, despite forcing himself to down a grapefruit for breakfast before they had entered orbit. He looked over at Sasha and Giles. “I’m gonna kick Dr Ling’s bony little ass when we get back. Mark my words.”

Giles offered a polite smirk. Sasha still appeared anxious. In the days since they had reconciled, the tension onboard had eased considerably: he had helped them prep for their Astrophysics Exam, acting as invigilator while the remote tests were provided - and resisting the urge to give them any hints. And once that had passed, they played games, and he regaled them with stories from his days on the Furyk - and his time with Sasha’s mother.

The tension had returned when they reached the Tau Beta system and were granted clearance to enter orbit over the Nist outpost, awaiting clearance. The event was upon them. Hrelle resisted the urge to talk to Sasha about it, to maybe offer her a final chance to change her mind and have them leave.

For her part, she made no note about doing anything like that.

Looking at her now, appearing so mature and composed, reminding him of Hannah… He reached under his shirt collar. “Sash… may I offer this again to you?”

It was the gold necklace, with the Hebrew symbol for life, Chai, that her mother once owned. He held it out to her, adding gently, “If you don’t want it, just say. Please don’t do what you did before.”

He relaxed as she nodded and fixed it around her own neck, tucking it down her blouse.

Now he looked at Giles, appearing more confident. “Prepare to beam us down, Mr Arrington.”

Hrelle had seen an Nist in the flesh before, but it remained a jarring experience to relive it: bipedal arachnoids with three pairs of arms, the second and third pairs protruding from behind the first one, their bodies covered in bristly black fur with three fingers on each hand, and their heads sporting a ring of beady black eyes over a flat mouth flanked by large chelicerae, which clicked as it spoke, its voder translating into Federation Standard. “Welcome - Captain - Esek - Hrelle - Sasha - Hrelle - to - the - execution - my - designation - is - Escort - please - accompany - me.”

Hrelle nodded, looking to Sasha to make sure she wasn’t reacting adversely to the Nist, or the ones surrounding them in the Spartan surroundings of the outpost, as they followed the Escort, their footfalls echoing. The facility was designed for its builders, with curved walls and accessways above and below rather than on the same level, and seemed more spun than constructed.

They entered a larger area, where other Federation citizens were congregating. When the Sureswift arrived in orbit, there were other, civilian vessels in orbit, and these were the obvious passengers from them, all attendees to Giger’s death, now milling about tables of food and drink. Hrelle grunted; he didn’t know they catered executions.

“There - are - extensive - refreshments,” the Escort continued, indicating with two of its arms. “And - hygiene - chambers - beyond. - Do - not - leave - this - area - without - accompaniment. The - condemned - is - being - prepared - now - and - the - execution - will - commence - in - eleven - minutes - excuse - me.”

It departed, leaving Hrelle to glance at Sasha. “Are you okay?”

She nodded silently, before noting the tables and moving towards them, though he doubted if she had regained any appetite since their arrival-

“Captain Hrelle?”

He turned to face an older human couple, pale skinned and grey haired, the man holding out a hand to him. “Yes, it is you! A pleasure to see you here!”

Hrelle accepted the hand. “A… pleasure, Sir.”

The woman was holding onto the man’s arm, offering a dry expression. “He doesn’t remember, Albert.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am-”

The man tapped his own forehead. “No need, Captain, it has been so long. We’re Albert and Marie Labine.”

Hrelle started. “Nathaniel’s parents. Of course, forgive me for not remembering!” Memories of his first officer from the Furyk, of meeting them at the party in New Orleans before he shipped off to his new posting, returned to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t come visit after I escaped. I intended to, but-”

Albert waved off his apologies. “There was no need, Captain. We did get your letter, and we were very grateful for it, knowing that Nathaniel had died bravely, saving others.”

Hrelle nodded politely, ashamed. Labine had died when his neck broke immediately after he, Hrelle and the rest of the bridge crew had been beamed away from the Furyk. It was purely accidental, though Hrelle had no doubt that the Bel-Zon would have killed him almost immediately afterwards. No heroics, no sacrifice. Just one of many pointless, senseless deaths that day. But when he did write that letter, he couldn’t leave it that at, not to the parents of the man he himself had selected to be his first officer, only to lead him to a terrible, early death.

So... he embellished the truth. Never thinking he would see them again. So much for that. “I- I wasn’t expecting you here.” That much was true.

Mr Labine nodded. “We were at the Arvada III colony visiting Nathaniel’s brother and his family. We were ready to return when the Nist message relayed to us, so we extended our stay and arranged for passage here.”

Now Mrs Labine reached out and took Hrelle’s hand, clasping and holding onto it, her face a picture of gratitude and relief. “Thank you so much for coming here, Captain. We knew you’d be here... because of your wife.”

Hrelle swallowed. “My daughter… she’s here with me.”

The old woman’s face hardened in a way Hrelle understood… even if he didn’t like it… as she replied, “Good. She deserves to see that animal pay.”

“Don’t outlive your children, Captain,” Mr Labine advised him. “It’s a special hell.”

“Yes…” He drew back, suddenly and uniquely thankful that Sasha was here. “If you’ll excuse me, I should go see to her.” He turned and walked to her. “Hey…”

She looked to him. “What’s wrong?”

He indicted the Labines, who had thankfully moved on to meet other attendees. “They were the parents of my first officer from the Furyk.”

She nodded. “Mr Labine… I remember him, his visits with you to Salem One. I think he introduced me to Southern fried Pipius Claw…” She smiled. “I was sick all night.”

He made an amused sound. “Your mother was furious with him. There wasn’t enough Cajun charm in the Galaxy to assuage her.”

Suddenly a signal sounded, attracting everyone’s attention, as did a subsequent announcement. “Please - enter - the - designated - observation - areas - immediately - do - not - leave - do - not - interfere - in - the - process.”

Hrelle looked to Sasha and gestured her to follow the others into the shaded areas on the floor of the observation room. Hrelle looked around, counting around forty people, of varying ages and races, presumably all Federation citizens, presumably all related to people from his old ship like the Labines, or from Salem One. Many had died because of Giger. But he never expected this many people, in this day and age, to come and witness something like this, like it was some medieval era.

But should he be that surprised? The need for vengeance ran strong in most species, no matter how civilised they - we - preferred to imagine otherwise. Oh, people might cloak it in justifications, in faith, in whatever else felt comfortable and desirable to protect themselves. Or they might just be honest about their savagery. Either way, it was disconcerting.

His attention was drawn to one of the Nist returning, drawing up to the group that Hrelle and Sasha was a part of. “The - condemned - is - about - to - be - presented - you - will - have - an - indeterminate - period - to communicate - with - him - but - you - cannot - make - physical - contact.”

“Excuse me,” Hrelle started. “May I ask how… how the condemned will... will die?”

The Nist didn’t move to face him, but Hrelle imagined one of the beady black eyes that ringed its round bristly head was fixed on him as it replied, “It - may - be - cardiac - failure - or - shock - or - general - trauma - it - cannot - be - determined - until - incubation - commences.”

“Incubation?” He glanced at an equally bemused Sasha.

Before he could enquire further, everyone looked up to see a large transporter energy column appear, leaving in its wake a transparent globe two metres in diameter. The attendees moved around it, getting a good, unobstructed view of the sphere and its contents - or rather, its inhabitant: a naked human male, older, pale-skinned, thin-framed, balding but its body hair greying and skin sagging.

And instantly recognisable to Hrelle; his breath caught in his throat-

“You’ve resisted quite well, Captain,” Giger taunted. “I wonder where your strength lies. It wasn’t in your claws, since we removed them. Your fangs? Perhaps we shall remove them like we did your claws.”

“F-F-F-Fu-” Hrelle screamed again from another wave of pain, biting down and drawing blood from his tongue and inner cheek, coughing and sputtering, his stomach twisting so hard, wanting to bring up contents that weren’t there. His brain was on fire, his eyes veiled with red.

The pain stopped, but the pounding in his ears continued. Dimly he became aware of Giger rising and approaching, dropping to one knee, offering a smile that never reflected in his eyes. “Your tail, perhaps? I understand it helps with your balance, but maybe it’s more? Let’s see, shall we?”

No. NO-

“Dad?” Sasha was looking up at him, clutching his forearm.

Hrelle forced himself to relax his body, but he never took his eyes off the man who stood in the globe like some zoo specimen, appearing unaffected by either his unclothed state or his imminent death, the sphere just large enough to let him stand and turn in place. The witnesses seemed to silently draw closer - until he spoke, his voice loud and clear and defiant. “Go on! Get a good look now! It’s what you all came for!”

He laughed as he spread his arms out and turned in place - but stopped and stared at Hrelle, eyes and grin wide. “My dear Captain! What a pleasure to see you again! You’re looking far fitter than at our last meeting, when I had you tailless, pissing yourself and begging for mercy! Remember? I do. Oh, the stories I could tell you about how I spent the money we made from you and the Salem job!”

Hrelle didn’t respond, didn’t move. He could do this. He could do this.

“I see you didn’t grow the tail back,” Giger continued taunting. “The Counselors must have enjoyed analysing the reasons behind that.” Then he seemed to notice Sasha. “Ahh, your daughter, I presume? What a lovely young woman she’s turned into, all firm and ripe. Thank you for coming, my dear. It’ll be a pleasure to have you in my sights in my final moments.”

“Kill him already!” someone in the crowd shouted, joined by others making similar demands or just sounds of agreement. Hrelle saw Sasha scowl, red-faced by Giger’s obscene gesture, but he said nothing.

Giger turned around in his globe again. “Oh don’t worry, I’m sure however the Nist have chosen to kill me, it will entertaining enough for all of you fine people! Then you can go back to your nice, quiet, civilised lives and convince yourselves that you’re superior to me!” He faced Hrelle again. “But they’re not. Are they, Captain? We both know better. I made you face what you are, what they are, what we all are: animals. Self-serving animals.” He leered at Sasha again. “By the time I was done with your stepfather, he’d have raped and killed your mother to stop the pain. He’d have raped and killed you, too. Don’t believe me? Ask him yourself.”

Then he winced, clutching his stomach, looking confused.

“Why aren’t you killing him?” someone else demanded of the Nist. “When is the execution starting?”

“It - has - already - begun,” one of the arachnoids replied. “Completion - is - imminent.”

Hrelle looked to Sasha, then examined the sphere, wondering if toxins or biological agents were being pumped into the sphere. But he didn’t see any mechanisms. He turned to the closest Nist again. “What did you mean before by ‘incubation’?”

Now the Escort faced him directly. “The - eggs - were - injected - into - the - condemned - as - he - slept - they - are - hatching - now.”

“Eggs? What eggs?” someone nearby asked.

Hrelle suspected, but didn’t dare voice it.

“Our - eggs,” the Escort replied simply. “Once - our - males - sacrificed - themselves - to - feed - the - newly - hatched - larvae - now - we - use - livestock - or - we - use - condemned.”

Hrelle’s stomach dropped, his gaze returned to Giger, who was listening, unaware until now about the manner of his death. His eyes were wide, sweat beading on his face and back as he tried to straighten up, only to double over, crying out in agony. “N-N-No- please-”

“How… How can you do that?” Sasha murmured, unable to look away.

If the Nist had an approximate emotion to most humanoids, it would have been mild confusion. “The - condemned - stole - many - lives - now - he contributes - towards - life. It - is - a - balance.” It continued to watch placidly. “The - larvae - are - voracious - and - will - consume - all - of - the - remains - before - they - pass - into - a - less - dangerous - stage - and - are - released - from - the - hatchery.”

Giger dropped to his knees, shaking, soiling himself, choking and screaming - and fixing his gaze on Hrelle again, not with scorn now, but terror. “C-Captain- H-Help me- please- I can feel them inside me- burrowing-”

The spectators were protesting now, crying out, looking away, some appearing faint, while the Nist appeared thoroughly confused by the reaction to what was, to them, a perfectly natural part of both their life cycle and their justice system.

Giger lay sprawled at the bottom of the sphere, covered in his own filth, his limbs twisting in inhuman directions, his voice hoarse from crying out in agony. If he looked close enough, he could see the newly-hatched Nist larvae crawling beneath the man’s skin, eating away at all his soft tissue.

And Giger never took his eyes away from Hrelle’s direction.

So Hrelle looked away - and down to Sasha, who was staring, white as a sheet, horrified, her mouth open, her breathing rapid. “Sash- look away- please-”

But she didn’t. And he saw the reason in her eyes: she wanted to keep watching, not out of any sadistic need to see the killer of her mother suffer, but because as much as she did want to turn away and leave, she had made such an effort to be there, she was forcing herself to see it through to the end. Punishing herself.

Around them, the spectators were louder now in their protests and cries of dismay, as the larvae began chewing their way out of Giger’s body from a dozen different directions, making blood squirt out here and there, while he remained alive, and aware.

Finally Hrelle could stand no more, slapping the combadge pinned to his shirt. “Giles! Beam us up, now! Sasha first! Hurry!”

Sasha looked to him, at first appearing to be ready to protest - but that quickly vanished. As did she, in a transporter sparkle.

He stood alone there, in the chaos, giving Giger a final look.

The man’s eyes were wide and dead, but his mouth was opening, his tongue emerging, as if to offer a final taunt.

But it was just another larva emerging, its tiny jaws working furiously to clear a path up to Giger’s eyes.

USS Sureswift, Orbiting Tau Beta VI:

Giles had been sitting in the cockpit, running further checks on the other orbiting ships, especially the Nist, which had heavily scanned them upon their arrival. Captain Hrelle had assured him that they would honour the conditions of the treaty and not cause any trouble - but if they pulled some trick like demanding to board for an ‘inspection’, he was to gird his loins and stand his proverbial ground.

His thoughts returned to his conversation with his father. He should tell Captain Hrelle about it all. Maybe after they return from the planet- “Giles! Beam us up, now! Sasha first! Hurry!”

Not stopping to respond, Giles’ fingers danced over the transporter controls on the appropriate panel, turning around to see the transporter pad light up, the columns of energy dance, before Sasha appeared, looking ashen, distraught, stepping off the pad, taking a deep breath, looking at Giles once before turning and charging into the toilet, dropping to her knees before it and throwing up, her legs sticking out and preventing the door from closing.

Giles returned to the transporter panel, and seconds later, Captain Hrelle appeared, stepping down. “Sir! Is it an emergency? Should I raise shields?”

The older man looked ashen as well, even through his fur, but he shook his head, sounding calmer than he did before. “No. Not an emergency. Get her some water.” He turned and knelt outside the toilet, reaching in and drawing back her hair and reaching for tissue while Giles conjured up a glass of water from the nearby replicator. Hrelle accepted it and set it near to the girl, before rising and motioning for Giles to follow him back to the cockpit, both of them taking seats, Giles staring at Hrelle and Hrelle staring out the window at the edge of the planet.

“Sir,” Giles finally ventured, “Did something... something go wrong?”

Hrelle breathed in and out, before finally replying slowly, blankly, “That depends on your definition, I guess. You see, the Nist execute prisoners by implanting their eggs into them, which hatch into larvae that consume the body from within. While the prisoner is still alive and awake. And very much aware of what’s happening to him.” His fingers moved up and rubbed at the sockets of his eyes. “From what we saw, that part went well. I suspect their public relations department will be working overtime, however.”

Giles felt his jaw drop; just the way the Captain described it was horrifying. To have seen it in person, happening before their very eyes… he looked back to the aft, seeing that Sasha had risen up and entered the toilet fully, closing the door. “That sounds…”

“Barbaric?” Hrelle stared out into the Universe. “Maybe. But is it any less barbaric than a phaser to the head, or a lethal injection... or a snapped neck? Other methods may be quick and relatively painless, and may make the execution seem all clean and civilised, but the condemned is still going to end up dead.”

He grunted. “There were so many Federation people there, Giles. More than I expected. People from our humane, sophisticated, advanced society, all assembled to see the death of another living, sentient being. They’d journeyed dozens of light years for it. Maybe those who crave the life of another should be made to do it with their bare hands.” After a moment, he added, “Like I’ve done.”

Giles looked to him, confused. “Sir?”

“When I was a slave, I killed others with my bare hands. Well, my bare hands and... my teeth. It is a... visceral, intimate experience, to feel their blood splatter on your face, to see the life pump out of them...” He looked at Giles. “Some humans like to make jokes about Caitians being no better than animals. If they had seen me at those times...”

Giles sat there, stunned by the revelation, literally not knowing what to say.

Then Hrelle seemed to recover, shaking himself out of it. “I’m sorry, Giles, I shouldn’t have told you that. Forget what I said, okay? Initiate departure procedures. We’ve been away from home long enough.”

“Aye, Sir.” Giles forced down a hundred questions - and some apprehensions - as he went through the appropriate checks and sent the correct signals, until he finally got the nod from Hrelle, and took the shuttle to warp speed, taking her up steadily until they reached a sustained 9.5.

Both of them turned, Hrelle rising as they saw the toilet door open, and Sasha emerge, trembling, holding onto the adjacent wall for support. “Daddy?”

Hrelle approached, reaching out for her. She raced into his arms, and he embraced her as she sobbed.

Giles looked back into the starfield ahead, pretending not to be aware of the moment between parent and child. And pretending not to wish the same for himself.

Just as he pretended not to think about how much his father would love the information Hrelle had just provided about himself. He wondered if it had come out in the briefings already. They would have been very thorough.

Perhaps they had. So it wouldn’t really be a bad thing to mention it.

Would it?

The Captain put Sasha into the sleeping compartment and stayed with her for a few minutes, before returning to the cockpit. “Sir? Is Sasha-”

He nodded gratefully. “Feeling a little better, thank you.”

“Good.”

“And thanks again, Giles.”

“For what, Sir?”

“For coming along. For being here. And for putting up with this old bastard. Not exactly what you signed up for, I’m sure.” He regarded him curiously. “What’s up?”

“Up, Sir?”

“You look like you have something to say. Anything on your mind?”

Giles flushed. “Me? Um... no, Sir. Nothing.”

He sat down with a grunt. “Well, if I wasn’t taking over from you shortly, I’d be getting blind stinking drunk.”

Giles nodded. “Given what you saw, Sir, no one would blame you. If you- If you did want to skip a shift to do that, I wouldn’t mind-”

“Thank you, but I’m the one who’s supposed to be setting a good example for all you brats.” He breathed out. “Why don’t you clock out early? Go in with Sasha, talk to her, get yourselves some food.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I’ll keep myself busy up here for a few hours, maybe work up an appetite again.”

Giles nodded, rose and departed, taking a deep breath before entering the sleeping compartment, quickly closing the door behind him as it was dark inside and he didn’t want to wake her.

It wasn’t totally dark, though; as his eyes adjusted, he could see there was a small light from a PADD screen on the floor, and he could see Sasha sitting up on the bunk, her legs tucked under her her back to the wall, her eyes staring at nothing, never looking up at him.

“If you want to be alone-” he ventured.

She shook her head, reaching out and patting the bunkspace beside her.

He accepted the silent invitation, staring in the same direction as she was, at nothing in particular. “Your Dad- your stepf- the Captain told me about what happened. I’m... I’m sorry. It must have horrible.”

“Yes. It was. But I don’t want to talk about it.” She began unbuttoning her blouse.

He watched from the corner of his eye, before starting to rise. “I’ll- I’ll let you get some sleep-”

She slipped out of her blouse; her mother’s medallion, dangling between her breasts, caught the meagre light, as did the plain white material of her bra. She reached out for him. “I’m not sleeping.” Sasha took his hand, moved it up to her face, the side of her head. “I need you.”

“Wh- What- No, wait-”

She twisted in place to face him, reaching up and clasping his face, drawing him into a kiss before he realised it. He froze, for a moment.

And then responded.

His arousal stirred, and after their tongues met and lips ground, he pulled back, gasping. “Sash- are you sure-”

She nodded, looking almost pained, but still undressing. “Don’t worry, I’m in my right mind, Giles, I promise… I need you… I need to feel something other than this horror sitting in my belly… I need to feel alive. Please help me feel alive, Giles.”

“Sasha…”

She smiled. “And I know you want it, too…”

Then she reached down for him.

Further protest was lost.

In the cockpit, Hrelle tried his best to focus on the controls, on the starfield, on his grumbling stomach. On anything other than what he could plainly hear happening in the sleeping compartment a metre away, despite the door being shut. His superior hearing was usually a boon rather than a burden,. Now he couldn’t even summon his meditative powers to distract himself.

Among his people, adults and cubs were open about their sexual appetites and activities; with their enhanced senses, and the Seasons that their females underwent on a regular basis, it was foolish to be coy about the subject the way many humans were. But Sasha wasn’t Caitian. She was an adult, though, and entitled to do what she wanted. And after all she had been through that day, he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt them. It was something she needed now; she earned that much.

And then there was that business with Giles secretly speaking to his father on that communicator. Hrelle heard that too. He suspected something like that had been arranged following the visit from Lucille Arrington, and had hoped the boy would open up about it; he had given him the chance more than once. What in the Seven Hells was he gonna do about that?

He really needed a drink…