The Short and the Hungry

4,376 Words

(AUTHOR’S NOTE: I wrote this story in collaboration with Jack Elmlinger, a Facebook friend of mine who writes his own Star Trek fan fiction. It was my first collaboration with someone else, and the first time I’ve seen my own characters depicted through the eyes of another writer, and it was a fun, rewarding experience that I hope to repeat in the future. Jack’s own fiction is at Captain Jack's Stories and I suggest you visit and have a read, if you want a good time!)

Captain’s Log; Stardate 4732.19: The Starsong has departed from Star Station Ursus and we are in course for a rendezvous with the USS Surefoot. I have never met Captain Hrelle before but I’ve heard both good and outrageous things about him.

“I hear they carry a complement of cadets aboard,” Captain Weynik heard his helmsman, Lieutenant Henry Nash tell the person beside him at the Ops console, Lieutenant Commander Sorek. The Vulcan Officer barely raised an eyebrow while he continued his work.

“We were all cadets once, Lieutenant. Even I was and that was after achieving graduation from the Vulcan Science Academy.”

“Yeah, but they’re near the Cardassian Border. Doesn’t Starfleet fear for their safety?”

“Mister Nash.” The calling of his name drew the lieutenant’s attention to the Excelsior-class starship’s First Officer. He was a foot taller than his captain and his presence brought a cloud of silence to the Bridge personnel.

“Yes, Commander Ibanez?” Nash asked, turning his chair towards him.

“Do you serve on the Surefoot?”

“No, sir.”

“Where do you serve?”

“Aboard the Starsong, sir.”

“Then don’t forget it,” Ibanez said and Nash nodded his compliance, turning back to his station. The commander looked around the bridge and added,” Don’t any of you forget that. The Surefoot is a different ship than ours with a different routine. I’m sure that Captain Hrelle runs as tight a ship as we do.”

A snicker from the aft turbolift made Marco turn towards the person in question.

“You have something to add, Doctor?”

Nurri P’Maara stepped forward with a smile on her face. “Have you ever served with a Caitian before?” she asked him, brushing aside a lock of her auburn mane. “Other than me?”

“I believe the Doctor has a point,” Captain Weynik finally spoke. He was a watcher and he liked to watch before he involved himself. “I believe there is an Earth saying about not ‘judging a book by its cover’?”

“Yes, there is.”

“Besides,” the Roylan continued,” we can take it easy with all of the rules and regulations, Number One.”

Ibanez took a deep sigh and nodded.

P’Maara walked up beside the captain’s command chair and smiled at him. “Are we there yet, Nik?” she asked, using his nickname.

“I don’t know. Let’s ask the driver. Mister Nash, are we there yet?”

Nash smiled at the question but answered it in a professional manner. “ETA is eighteen minutes at Warp Five, Captain.”

“Good, Mister Nash.” He was about to say something else when Lieutenant Commander Sorek spoke up.

“Captain, long-range sensors are detecting weapons fire.”

“I’ve got it too,” said Lieutenant Crysti Nolan who was seated at the port console where Tactical was situated. “I’m detecting a Saber-class starship and three bandits – Cardassian light cruisers.”

“Red Alert!” Ibanez shouted, moving up alongside the opposite side of the captain’s chair. “All hands to Battlestations!”

Weynik looked at Ibanez and asked himself, Who’s the captain here? Me or this tall drink of water? He set those thoughts aside and said,” Hail the Surefoot. Then, Mister Nash, begin evasive manoeuvres. Leave it to Nash sequence. Understood?”

“Understood, Sir!”

“I have Captain Hrelle.”

“On screen, Sorek.”

“I’ll be in Sickbay if anyone wants me.” Doctor P’Maara headed back for the turbolift and disappeared as quickly as she had appeared. The battle on the viewscreen disappeared and the bridge of the Surefoot appeared. It was smaller and more confined that the Starsong’s bridge. There appeared to be both cadets and officers manning the bridge consoles. At the centre of the chaos was a big, Brown Caitian with a large stomach.

No wonder they call him the Fat Cat, Ibanez thought. How does he get past the minimal service requirements?

“Well, look who’s come to the party! I put out the snacks but we seem to have invited party crashers!”

Weynik nodded. “We’ll see if we can get them to leave.” He looked at Nolan. “Target and fire at your discretion, Lieutenant.” He knew his crew and leaving them to their tasks made sure to keep his ship and his crew safe and happy.

“You’re a little small to command an Excelsior, aren’t you?” Hrelle asked him. His tactical officer had reported the withdrawal of one Cardassian ship.

“Well, aren’t you a bit … larger to command a Saber?” the Roylan asked him back.

“Touché. Let’s be friends.”

“Captain, the Cardassians are retreating,“ Nolan repeated. “Are we gonna pursue?”

Weynik continued to scrutinize his counterpart on the viewscreen, observing how the facetiousness was more a buffer for his younger, less experienced cadets, an alarming number of whom were apparently manning stations on the bridge during the attack. “No, Lieutenant. Let’s make sure the Surefoot doesn’t require further assistance… is everyone okay there, Hrelle?”

“Yes, thank you, Weynik. My cubs were handling things quite well, I can assure you, but we still appreciate your arrival.”

Closer, Weynik saw and heard Nash lean close to Sorek and whisper, “His ‘cubs’?”

“A term of affection for my cadets, Lieutenant,“ Hrelle explained, obviously having heard Nash. “Although my daughter *does* serve onboard. And my wife. And a niece. But we have more important things to discuss, don’t we, Weynik?”

“Indeed, Hrelle. Why were the Cardassians attacking you?”

The Caitian captain’s demeanour shifted, sobered. “We were on approach to a dark matter nebula 4.4 light years from here when the raiders appeared out of nowhere and began attacking.”

Weynik grunted, but Ibanez chose to speak up and offer his proverbial two cents with, “Perhaps they wouldn’t have done, if you didn’t have snotnoses doing the work of real crewmen over there.”

Weynik saw several cadets on Hrelle’s bridge react to that. Inwardly Weynik agreed with his Number One, though he might have been less open criticizing the captain of another ship in front of his own people.

Hrelle, however, took it in his stride. “When I say they came out of nowhere, Commander, I was being literal. They didn’t appear on either our short or long-range sensors.”

“Cardassians with cloaking devices?” Weynik didn’t like the sound of that, though Intelligence reports indicated that past attempts by them to adapt stolen Klingon cloaks proved unsuccessful due to power and compatibility issues with Cardassian technology. “Forgive me, Captain, but I will need to see proof of this.”

Hrelle nodded, glancing behind him. “Commander T’Varik, send the Starsong our tactical data.”

Seconds later, Nolan spoke up. “Confirmed, Captain. The Cardassians *do* appear without warning. And there are none of the usual cloaking energy signatures we’ve seen from either Klingon or Romulan systems.”

Now Weynik grew tense. This news will raise the hackles of every Admiral back in Starfleet Command. “Thank you for this, Captain Hrelle. If you send us any other data you might have, you can return to your assigned duties while our people here analyse the nature of the cloaking technology-“

“No need, Captain,“ the Caitian announced, smiling. “My cubs have already worked it out.” He looked to his right. “Squad Leader Hrelle?”

Weynik watched as a young human female with a freckled face appeared – was this a relative of Hrelle’s, Weynik thought, or was the surname a coincidence? – appeared into view, facing the viewscreen and the Starsong bridge. “Based on the decay rates of the tetryon and dekion particles in their power systems once they appeared, the Cardassians are obviously employing a dark matter compression blister.”

“Obviously?” Ibanez snorted. “What is it?”

“It’s a theoretical employment of particles of dark matter,“ the young woman explained. “Such as in the nebula we were approaching, held in place around a ship with graviton and tetryon fields, and acting as a practical cloaking device; most sensors are designed to ignore all the dark matter in our Universe anyway beyond a certain density.”

“That’s… that’s…” Ibenez started, finally conceding as he looked to Weynik, “I’ve never even heard of it, Captain.”

“Professor Eric Fassbender wrote a paper on it last year, Sir,“ the female Hrelle informed him. “We learned all about it in Snotnose School.”

Ibenez flinched at that, almost looked ready to rebuke the cadet, when Captain Hrelle shooed her away, beaming proudly. “That’s my little Runt of the Litter. So, Weynik, are you going to try and send us away again, or shall we do some collaboration as we both proceed to the nebula to investigate further?”

Weynik. chuckled. “Sounds like a plan, Hrelle…”

*

Captain’s Log, Supplemental: There have been no more signs of the Cardassians in the area but with dark matter in the area, they could reappear at any time. Coordinating with the Surefoot crew, we are working together to figure out this phenomenon.

“Why invite them here?” Marco Ibanez asked while he and Captain Weynik walked down a corridor towards Transporter Room Two. “We don’t need snotnoses getting underfoot, Captain.”

“You were once a snotnose yourself, Commander. Besides, I like teaching.” Before accepting command of the Starsong, he had served for three terms at Starfleet Academy as a history professor and a small bladed arms instructor.

“I still think we should go over to the Surefoot.”

“I think you just want to look at it,” the Roylan told him. “Are you that disappointed to be assigned to a relic?”

“No, sir!”

“Then what is it?”

“They have better sensors than ours…”

“Marco, I think we’ll be okay with some cadets aboard.” He smiled and added, “They may even surprise you.”

The doors to the transporter room opened before them as they grew close and once they entered, the transporter technician called out, “Ready for transport, Captain.”

“Energize, Chief Matthews.”

The transporter platform lit up and two pillars of blue energy appeared. They materialized into humanoid form, one Human and the other Caitian.

A rather *large* Caitian…

I hope he doesn’t sit on me, Weynik thought, taking a step forward. Once the materialization process ended, he offered his hand in greeting.

“Welcome aboard the Starsong, I’m Captain Weyyyyy-” He was shocked when the Caitian grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into a bear hug. It almost felt like his lungs were being crushed as he was buried in a large bundle of fur.

“Dad, put him down. You’re crushing him.”

“You must be Captain Hrelle,” Ibanez said, not offering his hand.

“And you must be the commander with the stick up his dirty hole,” the Human said, a cadet’s insignia on her collar.

“Excuse me, Cadet?”

“You heard me… Sir.”

Marco was fuming by this display of disobedience. He stepped forward, only to be stopped by her stepfather who had released Weynik and set him back on his feet.

“Do you have a problem with my cadet, Commander?” he asked with a hard look.

“Uh… no, Sir.” The Commander was smart enough to get into a fight with a Caitian. Especially when it looked like he was going to unsheathe his claws.

“At ease, Number One,” Weynik said, air circulating back into his lungs. “They’re our guests.” He looked at his fellow captain. “You didn’t bring your cadets.”

“I brought Sasha. The others were working on the analysis.”

“Well, why don’t I show you the ship while Commander Ibanez shows Cadet Hrelle to the science lab where Commander Sorek and Lieutenant Austin are working in their analysis.”

“Only if you throw lunch in.”

“I think we can make a stop at the Opera House,” Weynik said, referring to the ship’s forward lounge.

“Dismissed, Sasha. Play nice.”

“I always play nice,” his stepdaughter said before she and Ibanez left the transporter room.

*

In the Opera House, Weynik watched in amazement as Hrelle tucked into a prodigious amount of something Caitian called fried shuris, an item he’d seen his own Caitian Chief Medical Officer, Doctor P’Maara indulge in on occasion. “Glad to see our replicated food meets with your approval.”

Hrelle nodded, grunting. “My own doctor keeps trying to make me stick to a diet. It’s especially difficult at this time because my wife is pregnant, and her pheromones are affecting my appetite – among other things.”

Weynik nodded. “I heard about your Amazing Sperm.”

Hrelle stopped and looked like he was blushing under his fur. “Ah, yes. My First Officer pointed out to me that I was getting the Official and Personal Log buttons mixed up. Again. I understand it was the source of some amusement at Starfleet Command for a while.”

“Some. Hrelle, though I won’t excuse my First Officer’s dismissive attitude towards your cadets – I can still understand it. It seems foolish to bring cadets out here, working along the Cardassian border, risking their lives at such a young age.”

The Caitian paused to lick his fingers, then finally pushed aside the remainder of his meal, his expression sober. “You’re not alone. The Academy Superintendent didn’t exactly have Happy Tail over it, either – not that she has a tail. But then, my cubs aren’t ordinary cadets, they’re top in their respective fields in Engineering, Science, Flight Ops and such.

And they need to be. Just look at the threats that have arisen in recent years. The Galaxy is a more dangerous place now than it ever was. Better to prepare them as much as we can.” His expression steeled. “And protect them, tooth and claw, along the way.”

Weynik understood, given his own history of teaching at the Academy. “Shall we continue our tour before my Number One and your daughter end up killing each other?”

Hrelle chuckled. “I’d be delighted! I love this class of starship. And I’m certain Commander Ibanez and Sasha are doing fine.”

*

In the Science Lab, Cadet Hrelle cursed again in Old Caitian. Ibanez didn’t understand it, and didn’t want to. This was the most insolent, disrespectful shave-tail he had ever had the misfortune of encountering. “Would you care to translate that for us, Cadet?”

She looked at him. “Leaving out the profanity, Commander?”

“If you would.”

She said nothing.

Sorek and Austin, meanwhile, alternated between fascination at the theory behind the dark matter cloak, and fascination with the interplay between Ibanez and Sasha Hrelle. Sorek finally interjected. “Cadet, do you believe there are any practical limitations to this particular cloaking technology?”

The young woman’s general demeanour suddenly shifted, became more formal, respectful, towards the Vulcan. “Yes, Sir. Beyond the obvious need for an abundant supply of suitable dark matter, the power requirements for ships larger than the raiders we encountered would create an energy signature that would make the cloak useless.”

“So we don’t have to worry about fleets of cloaked Galor-class warships?” Lieutenant Austin opined.

“Thankfully not, Sir.”

“But you still haven’t come up with a countermeasure for it, have you?” Ibanez noted.

Sasha glared at him. “No, Commander. In the one hour that we snotnoses identified and analysed a hitherto-unknown cloaking technology, we’ve somehow not quite yet worked out a countermeasure for it. Perhaps you could assist us with it, rather than kvetch like an old woman?”

“You have a serious attitude problem, Cadet-“

Just then, Weynik and Hrelle walked in, the Caitian beaming. “Everyone getting along?”

Weynik watched and waited for Ibanez to complain. His complaints of late had been giving him headaches and he had only been aboard for three months. Why did I do Admiral Brand a favour? he asked himself.

“I was just instructing the cadet about her attitude, Captain.”

“My attitude? You’re the one kvetching around like an old woman with a stick up her ass!” Sasha protested.

“Cadet, such behaviour is-“ The Commander didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as Esek lunged forward and tackled him. Pressed hard against a bulkhead, the Caitian had his claws out and they were dangerously close to the other man’s throat.

“How… dare … you,” he breathed, hot air from his nose blowing onto the commander’s face.

Sorek and Austin leapt away from the science console at the centre of the room and ran over to pull Hrelle off of the First Officer. His immense strength sent the science officer flying back the way that he had come, almost knocking over Weynik.

Sorek struggled with Ibanez’s assailant until he was elbowed in the face with a broken nose. A second blow from his tail knocked the Vulcan flat on the deck, unconscious.

Weynik could hear Austin calling for security when he jumped forward. He grabbed Hrelle by the tail and went for a ride.

“Put… him… DOWN!” he barked in a commanding growl.

“Dad!”

“Huh? What?” Esek released Marco and looked over his shoulder at his daughter.

“Oh my God! I can’t take you anywhere!”

“Sasha, he was-”

“Doing his job.”

Hrelle felt something on his tail and looked around. He did a couple of turns before he saw that the Starsong’s captain firmly latched to his tail. “Enjoying the ride?”

“I think I need a priest. I saw my life flash before me.” The Roylan let go and looked over at Sasha. “I don’t care what happened. You’re welcome aboard Starsong, young lady.” He turned back to Hrelle and added, “If you had done that with *my* dad here… you’d be commanding a garbage scow by dessert.”

“Who’s your dad, sir?”

“They call him The Gnome.”

Hrelle’s eyes widened at the realization that his fellow captain had an admiral for a father. “Really?”

“As Mister Austin is keen to say, Captain, You Bet Your Boots, Partner.”

*

In Sickbay, Doctor P’Maara was patching up the various parties, completely nonchalant about an assault among senior officers once she caught Hrelle’s scent. “So, your first child, huh?”

The other Caitian grunted. “Yes; Sasha is technically my stepdaughter.”

“Technically, perhaps. And your mate’s still in her first trimester?”

“Just coming out of it.”

The CMO glanced at Weynik. “So which of them threatened Sasha?”

“Threaten?” Ibanez exclaimed, wincing as a nurse worked an autosuture over his cuts. “It was hardly a threat, Doctor! I was merely demonstrating-“

“Demonstrating what happens when a Caitian male, whose pregnant mate is pumping out pheromones urging him to protect his family, encounters a potential threat to one of his cubs?” P’Maara smirked. “Good one.”

“I told you, Doctor-“

But Weynik raised a hand to cut him off. “Is there something that can be done about it, before we get mistaken for a Klingon ship?”

Hrelle nodded. “Suppressants. I don’t normally take them, but… Doctor?”

P’Maara nodded and went to load a hypospray, as Hrelle offered, “Sorry about the tsuris.”

Sorek offered a furrowed brow. “Tsuris? Is that a Caitian term?”

Standing near Weynik, Sasha was scribing furiously onto her PADD, never looking up as she explained, “It’s Yiddish for ‘calamity’; he picked up a lot of it from my Mom.” Now she looked at Weynik. “Captain, my team has a possible countermeasure to the dark matter cloak, but your crew has much more practical experience than us, they can see if it’s workable. With your permission, Sir?”

“Of course. Mr Sorek, take the cadet back to the Science Lab.” As they departed, the Roylan looked to Ibanez, teasing him with, “What a charming, well-disciplined young woman. I can’t imagine why you might want to pick a fight with her father…”

“I *didn’t*, Sir,” Ibanez explained. “He attacked me without warning!”

“Well, then maybe next time, you should observe the situation before opening your mouth, Commander.”

Weynik turned to Hrelle, ignoring his First Officer. “If you’d like to register a complaint…?”

“Let’s just chalk the incident up to biology,” Esek said, offering a hand to Marco. “Friends?”

Marco looked at the hand, hesitantly before he raised a hand to shake it. “I apologise, sir.”

The commander turned to Sasha. “Cadet, I’m-”

“I’ve already forgotten about what happened, Commander.” The blonde woman turned to Sorek. “Shall we go, Sir?”

“Proceed, Cadet.” The Vulcan walked beside her, both of them leaving Sickbay.

*

Captain’s Log, Supplemental: It has been seven hours since Cadet Hrelle and Commander Sorek have begun their detection work. So far, we haven’t detected any Cardassian vessels.

“This reminds me of a 20th Century movie that I saw at the Academy,” Lieutenant Nash told the people sitting at his table in the Opera House. Crysti Nolan, Jeff Austin, and the ship’s Counselor, an Andorian named Ahnathaela sh’Nahri, were listening to him speak. “It was called ‘The Hunt for Red October’.”

“I remember that book,” Crysti said. “It was required reading at the Academy.”

“There’s a book?”

“Not all of us hole up in our quarters, watching old Earth movies, Henry.”

“Maybe we should talk about it?” the Counselor suggested and it had everyone laughing.

“Let’s not and say we did.”

“RED ALERT!” Captain Weynik’s voice barked over the speakers. “ALL HANDS, MAN YOUR BATTLE STATIONS!”

“It looks like lunch is over, folks,” Nolan said before she and the others ran out of the Opera House.

The ship was rocking as the senior officers entered the bridge, Nolan taking her place and asking, “Status?”

Ibanez raised his voice. “Six Cardassian raiders appeared from nowhere, attacking the Surefoot and ourselves simultaneously, before vanishing again.”

Nolan called up her own display, quickly scanning the recent data to confirm the First Officer’s summary. This new dark matter cloak seemed as effective – and threatening – as the initial reports from the Surefoot confirmed. “Damage?”

“Shields have weakened, for both our ships,“ Weynik confirmed, the Roylan never taking his eyes off the viewscreen, which looked more black and foggy than starry-

Suddenly a Cardassian raider appeared dead centre, firing. The Starsong rocked, even as Weynik snapped, “Return fire!”

“Trying, Sir! But-”

Weynik understood; the Cardassians had learned to hit and run, before appearing elsewhere: classic cloaking tactics. It was worse here, at the edge of the dark matter nebula; trying to detect the ships must be like trying to spot a torch in front of a forest fire. “How’s the Surefoot doing? With all those cadets-”

“They’re avoiding the disruptors, Sir,“ Nash informed him. “We’re a bigger target.”

“We’re also better armed. Tactical, I want a full volley of phaser and photon torpedoes dead ahead; but warn the Surefoot of our intention first, I don’t want them caught in friendly fire!”

He watched, maintaining an aura of calm as he watched the cutting phaser beams and miniature red flares of the torpedoes streak ahead, sometimes hitting clumps of dark matter, others just being swallowed up. Without any appreciable effect.

Well, so much for that. “Bridge to Science Lab – Commander, Cadet, now would be a good time to get that countermeasure up and running.”

Sorek’s voice replied. “We are ready, Sir. The Surefoot cadets have modified their ship’s aft tractor array for a wide sustainable sweep of ionized gravitons that will theoretically disrupt the Cardassians own tetryon and graviton-based-”

The ship rocked again from another disruptor volley, Ibanez reporting, “Shields down to sixty percent!”

Weynik’s jaw tightened. “In small words, Commander?”

Now Hrelle’s stepdaughter cut in. “The Surefoot will sweep ahead of us, we follow, keep your eyes peeled and pick ’em off as they appear!”

“That, I understand…” Weynik leaned back. “Follow the Surefoot, Helm. Tactical, all weapons primed and ready.”

He watched, allowing his crew to do their jobs, and trusting in the abilities of their counterparts on the Surefoot as they moved ahead, swooping port and starboard in almost-alarming manoeuvres.

“Who’s at their helm?” Nash asked, more to himself than to anyone else.

“Another Caitian, from what I saw,” Weynik informed him. “But if his skills exceed yours, we can replace you-”

“No! I mean, no, Sir!”

Ibanez piped up. “We will not be as manoeuvrable as a Saber-class starship, but our strengths lie elsewhere. Case in point: Tactical!”

All eyes looked to the viewscreen, as the Surefoot swept past a clump of blackness – dragging away dark matter to partially reveal a Cardassian raider, like a dog tugging a blanket off the bed.

The Starsong fired a volley of phasers, cutting across the dorsal side of the vessel and erupting it into a blossom of fire.

The Bridge went silent as the Surefoot uncovered another Cardassian, and then another – with the Starsong turning them into scrap.

“I’m detecting other Cardassian raiders now,” Sorek reported. “It appears they are abandoning the experimental cloaking technology in favour of returning to their space.”

Weynik nodded. “And knowing the way the Cardassian military mind operates, they will abandon further research on this and probably execute the ones who organized this failure.”

*

Captain’s Log, Supplemental: We have updated Starfleet Command about the Cardassian dark matter cloaks and the solution the Surefoot and the Starsong collaborated on, should they or anyone else choose to try it again. It has been an… experience… dealing with Captain Hrelle and his redoubtable crew, and I have a feeling that this won’t be the last we’ll work together…

In the Transporter Room, Hrelle held out his hand, beaming. “Such a pleasure, Captain. Thank you for everything!”

Weynik accepted the hand, as he did Sasha’s. “The pleasure was ours, Captain. Perhaps next time we can meet when there’s not a crisis?” To Sasha, he added, “Try to keep him out of trouble – and make sure he passes his next physical? We need him in command.”

The young woman beamed. “I’ll do my best, Sir.”

Now Commander Ibanez joined them, shaking Hrelle’s and Sasha’s hand, but lingering with the cadet. “And I hope you’ve learned a lesson about discipline while you were onboard, young lady?”

Sasha looked up at him. “Oh, *yes*, Sir.” She followed her father onto the transporter pads, standing at attention until Weynik gave the order to energize.

And then she showed the Starsong’s First Officer how many middle fingers she had on her right hand as she vanished.

Weynik pretended not to notice the exchange as he noted, “I see you made a positive impression on her, Commander. Maybe you should consider a transfer?”

END