Class of 2372 - Part 5 of 5: Ad Astra

Sitting outside the circle of children, Kami adjusted the napping Misha in her arms, her smile broad as she watched her father in the centre, spinning an improvised tale, his voice and hands sculpting the picture he described as if born to it...

“And there were three of the hideous huge Vlathi slithering along the Surefoot Shuttlebay,” he continued, his arms snaking in illustration, making hissing and snapping sounds that made some of the younger rapt members of his audience start. “Drawing closer, ever closer, to the sleeping figure of Princess Kami.”

“What are they gonna do to her?” Alazia whispered, wide-eyed.

Mi’Tree leaned in closer, his voice low. “If they’re not stopped… they’ll gobble her up!”

“No,” the little girl denied in a murmur.

“Yes,” he intoned dramatically, looking around at the others, appearing to be enjoying it as much as the cubs. “At least, that’s what the vile creatures think they’ll do! But they haven’t reckoned on the captain of the Surefoot. The bravest, strongest, most fearsome Captain in all of Starfleet, a captain who puts fear into the hearts of all dastardly villains throughout the Galaxy: Captain Misha!”

As Kami stifled a laugh, Mi’Tree drew back, drawing his hands out like he was casting spells. “He swung out and leapt between the Vlathi and Princess Kami, stared at the three monstrous fiends, bared his claws and teeth and declared, ‘No! You will not have this woman! Not now, not ever! I swear it!’ And he drew back, and he let loose deep from within the mightiest roar that had ever been heard! RRROOOOAAAARRRR!” He looked around, grinning. “Come on, roar with me!”

The children made their own roars. Mi’Tree cheered with delight at their efforts, then looked past them to his daughter, pointing at her. “You too, Missy! You’re not too old to roar!”

Kami grinned and gave him a roar. In her arms, Misha roared in his sleep, turning her own roar into a laugh.

*

“USS Surefoot-A, Captain’s Log, Stardate 49570.44, Captain Esek Hrelle recording: Starfleet Security has regained control of Earth’s Weather Modification Grid and restored a clear blue sky over San Francisco, and power and communications have been restored. There has been considerable damage to both the Academy grounds and the Bay Area, but fortunately no serious injuries reported.

It is the decision of the Superintendent that once the debris has been cleared away from the field, the graduation ceremony will recommence, not just because many of the attendants are on tight travel schedules back to other worlds, but because we must show those responsible for today’s terrorist act that they will not shake our resolve, that life goes on regardless.

On a purely and shamelessly personal note, I must offer my congratulations to my daughter for her promotion; at this rate, I suspect she’ll make Admiral before I do. And probably be more deserving.

I’m gonna get so verklempt when I see her up there giving her Valedictorian speech...”

*

Sasha walked up to the podium, her heart racing as she looked out at the hundreds of people gathered there, looking up at her, waiting for her words of wisdom. Assuming she had any. She felt ready to pee herself in front of them all, which she supposed would make for an interesting variation on the usual speeches.

In the sidelines near the front, Misha stood between his parents, taking advantage of the moment’s silence to wave and call out, “HI SASHA!”

The triggered laughter from everyone around him, including his sister, as she smiled and waved back, before facing her audience once more and proceeding. “I had a speech prepared, mostly; I wasn’t sure about the ending. I looked for appropriately stirring or inspirational quotes from Shakespeare or Yeats or Tarbolde. After about eighteen hours of deliberation I was at the point where I thought I’d end up doing a tap dance or a puppet show or something.”

The audience laughed, warming her up. “I suppose the main thing I want to say is that… I don’t know how deserving I am of this honour. But I know how grateful I am. Grateful to all those who have helped get me to where I am today: our Academy Superintendent Admiral Goldstein, Commander T’Varik, Counselor Hrelle, Lieutenants Shall and Neheru, and all the officers and crew of the USS Surefoot – the best ship in the fleet by the way, in case you were wondering.”

As her friends cheered that, she grinned. “And most especially my father.” She looked at him, grinning as she saw him repeatedly wipe the tears from his muzzle. “He has given me unwavering love, support, encouragement and inspiration… and has always graciously kept me from putting on too much weight by helping himself to all the food on my plate.”

That triggered more laughter, and a Thumbs Up from him.

Sasha looked out again, more soberly now. “And I suppose I should offer some advice, though I question the sanity of anyone looking to me for wisdom. Today’s events might have brought home to some of you for the first time how easily our way of life can be disrupted by outside agencies. This, sadly, was not my first time. I have learned long ago that Sometimes the Universe Has Other Plans. I have lost. I have been hurt-”

She stopped as she caught a glimpse of Trenagen in the audience, watching and listening.

“I know what threats are out there,” she continued, staring back at him. “But the greatest threats you’ll face will not come from the Dominion, the Klingons, or the Romulans, not from criminal or terrorist organisations or natural disasters… but from the temptation to forget our principles. We can so easily be deceived into letting fear drive us into desperation, into justifying compromising our principles to do what we think is necessary to protect ourselves.

But I say No. I will not compromise who I am. It’s too precious. Thank you.”

The audience broke into applause. Trenagen continued to regard Sasha.

And at the sidelines, unseen, Ma’sala regarded Trenagen.

*

The sun was setting by the time the delayed ceremony had finally finished: twilight was chased back by the awakening lights along the campus paths, as cadets and family and faculty still mingled. Hrelle was kept busy pressing the flesh with everyone he met, many congratulating him for Sasha. He was as polite as he could be… but he wanted to be with his family.

Then his combadge chirped. “Captain, this is Neheru. There is a Priority One message for you; I have been instructed by Starfleet Command to beam you onboard immediately to accept it. I’m sorry, Sir.”

Before Hrelle could reply, he felt himself being transported away...

*

In another part of the campus, Sasha nearly ran into T’Varik. “Commander! Hi there! I’m glad to finally run into you!”

The Vulcan stopped, relaxing her posture. “As I, you. Please accept my congratulations on your promotion.”

“Thanks.” Then Sasha quickly suppressed her emotion to offer a more composed, professional facade. “Commander, I just wanted to say that it has been an honour to have learned from you.”

“I imagine so.”

That broke Sasha’s attempts at seriousness, and she cursed.

“That sounds more like the young woman I know,” T’Varik noted warmly. “And I share some measure of honour to have been involved in your development.”

“Thank you.” She breathed out, absently touching her collar. “Commander, I know I’m not your cadet anymore, but… may I call upon your wisdom and objectivity one more time?”

She folded her arms behind her back. “I will always be available to you for that, whether it is as your teacher or your friend.”

Sasha smiled, but then grew serious again. “Commander… do I deserve to be a Lieutenant? It was a fluke that this terrorist incident happened during graduation-”

“Indeed. But your reaction was not a fluke. You stepped forward and took charge, formulated a plan of action that was accepted by your superiors, motivated your crew, and exceeded expectations. Your response was not the result of a spontaneous whim on your part, but the culmination of a lifetime of experience and expertise as both a civilian and as a cadet.”

“But I’m only twenty-one-”

“There is an ancient Terran saying: ‘It is not the years, it is the mileage’. You should not diminish your abilities because of your age, any more than you should because of your family connections. I can assure you that you have earned what you have today.”

Sasha stepped forward, nodding. “Thank you, T’Varik. You’ll be returning to the Surefoot in September with a new batch of cadets?”

The Vulcan nodded. “They will need to make a considerable effort to compare with the first group.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sasha laughed, before asking, “Please watch out for my family.”

She held out a hand. “It will be my honour, Lieutenant.”

Sasha accepted it.

*

The Commander and the new junior officer found the rest of her family and friends in the clearing near where Boothby’s flowers had been, before the storm. “I’ve been looking round but I can’t find Dad, or C’Rash, or Eydiir either.”

Kami was lifting up Misha, sniffing and asking, “No poop?” When the toddler shook his head, she set him down again and asked, “Have you tried their combadges?”

“Yes, and none of them are responding. And when I contacted the ship, Neheru was acting all cagey.”

“Maybe they’re having an orgy and didn’t want to invite us?” Neraxis suggested.

Jonas winced. “That puts far too many wrong images in my head.”

“You’re welcome.”

“More than likely,” T’Varik offered calmly, “It is a security briefing following today’s incident.”

“It is intolerable!” Mi’Tree declared, booming. “My kin-son and grandniece should be here for my darling Tailless Grandcub! She is the Hero of the Hour! She saved hundreds of lives today! She’s brilliant and brave and-”

Sasha drew up to him and brought a silencing finger to his snout. “You don’t have to keep kissing my ass, Grandpa. I’ve forgiven you already.”

Ma’Sala crossed her arms. “Don’t be too quick to forgive, cub, you might guilt him into an extra special present for your next birthday.”

“This will be most exciting,” Kit announced, clapping his webbed hands. “To have one more evening with Alpha Squad and the officers of the Surefoot!”

“Indeed,” Rrori commented, cracking the knuckles in his furred fingers. “And with my Matriarch and mother having an early night, I intend to celebrate our long-overdue departure from this facility by getting absolutely shitfaced tonight.”

Misha gasped and strode up to the other Caitian male, pointing a finger at him and announcing, “Bad word! Trouble Time, Mister!”

The former cadets laughed, Kami adding, “You heard Captain Misha there, Meow.”

Sasha grinned. “Better say you’re sorry, sport.”

“What? I will not! You all indulge the cub too much!”

“Are you saying my cub is spoiled, Ensign Rrori?” Kami teased.

“Do I have to contact your Matriarch, cub?” Ma’Sala growled, albeit humorously.

Rrori looked to T’Varik pleadingly. “Commander, be the voice of reason here!”

But the Vulcan eyed her godson and noted, “He is in uniform, and has Captain’s pips...”

The white-furred Caitian male started to protest further, before finally giving up, looking at Misha and admitting, “I’m sorry, Captain. Okay?”

Misha looked up, frowning – and then grinned and announced, “Good cub!”

Then all eyes turned to the arrival of Hrelle, C’Rash and Eydiir, everyone noting the expressions on their faces, Kami asking, “Esek, what’s happened?”

He stopped, regarding his wife and colleagues. “The Klingons have launched a major offensive across three sectors. They’re attempted to retake a lot of the territory that they have historically lost or ceded to the Federation: Archanis, Troyus, Ceti Omega, Sherman’s Planet. SI believes the incident here today might have been seen as a sign of weakness on our part. Starfleet sent a ship to Organia on the slim chance that they might have returned from… wherever they went, years ago.” He shook his head. “No sign of them.”

The group went silent, until T’Varik surmised, “You have been recalled.”

Hrelle nodded gravely. “Effectively immediately, we’ll be providing support to the Fleet, tender and ambulance duties. Probably combat, too. We won’t have cadets to supplement us, but we’ll stopping at Starbase 154 along the way to take on experienced temporary officers and crew.”

Kami swallowed. “I’ll need to pack, get ready-”

“No. I know you planned to stay here for the next few weeks working with T’Varik on selecting the new cadets. When you’re done, you can head back to Cait with Ma’Sala and Mi’Tree, and from there get a transport to rendezvous with us.”

Kami drew in and embraced her husband tightly. Misha sensed the change in mood and approached. “Papa sad?”

Hrelle half-pulled back from his wife, just enough to bend down and sweep his son up in his free arm. “Yes, Papa sad. Papa has to go away for a while, so he’ll miss you and Mama. So you take care of Mama for me until we’re together again, okay?”

Misha nodded and wrapped his arms around his father’s neck.

Eydiir dropped her shoulder bag and approached her friends. “I’m sorry this will spoil our plans to frolic and pointlessly indulge on Earth over the next couple of weeks, but I trust you will compensate in my absence.” After a moment she swallowed and admitted, “It has been an honour and a pleasure to have lived and worked with all of you.”

As she began hugging each of them in turn, C’Rash drew up to T’Varik, growling. “Damn, I was just getting into Season. What will I do for the next few months without you around?”

“Masturbate copiously, no doubt.” Disregarding Vulcan protocol, she embraced her lover, the contact letting her slip into the Caitian’s mind for a few seconds, offering more thought and feeling than she could express in public.

Hrelle parted from his family to move to Ma’Sala and Mi’Tree, hugging them and asking, “Keep an eye on them. Misha especially, he’s not been separated from either of us for long before.”

“We will, my kin-son,” Mi’Tree assured him.

“Take care out there, my kin-son,” Ma’Sala asked.

“I will.” He walked over to T’Varik, managing a smile. “Commander, it has been an incredible, rewarding experience working with you. I’ll be counting the days until we’re working together again. But if you think you’re getting away without a hug from me, you are very much mistaken.”

She raised an eyebrow. “On the contrary, Sir; as I am technically and emotionally bonded to your family, I would consider a lack of an attempt on your part on this occasion to be insulting.”

He laughed and drew in, holding her.

When they parted, she added breathlessly, “Do not expect this to be a regular indulgence, however.”

“Understood.” He turned to the former members of Alpha Squad, regarding each of them in turn. “I- I hadn’t planned on having to say any of this now. I thought there’d be more time. You’d think at my age I’d know better, wouldn’t you?” Tears welled in his eyes. “Maybe I grew close to all of you because you were in Sasha’s squad, but I’d like to think you’re all remarkable people in your own right that I would have done so anyway. We’ve been through too much together.” He embraced each in turn. “I owe all of you, more than I can say. If you need anything, anything at all, let me know.”

He stopped last at Sasha, who was crying as much as he was. He shook a finger at her. “You have to stop this, Runt of the Litter. Stop being so wonderful. Stop making me so proud of you. It hurts.”

He wrapped her in his arms, taking in her scent one more time.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Sasha.”

Somehow, he managed to release her, breathing in and returning to his wife and other cub, embracing them as well. Misha was mewling, until Hrelle took off his jacket, retrieving the combadge but wrapping the oversized garment like a blanket around the toddler. “Here, Warrior Prince, this has my scent on it; when you feel sad, you hold onto it, okay?” He rubbed the side of his muzzle against Misha’s, and then Kami’s, before steeling himself, pinning his badge to his grey undershirt and standing with C’Rash and Eydiir again, calling the Surefoot. “Three to beam up; warp out when we’re onboard.”

He spared a final glance at all those people who had touched his life in various ways, some he knew he would be seeing again soon, others… who knew? But he hoped it wouldn’t be too long, or too late.

He fixed on Kami, Sasha and Misha as he disappeared...

*

Saddleworth Moors, England:

The wind rattled against the ancient panels on the isolated cottage, though the sole occupant, in bed, swaddled in sheets and blankets, had lived there long enough to sleep without noticing it any longer. Very little could stir him in fact-

“Ian?”

He stirred, pulling the bedclothes up over him.

“Wake up, Ian. We need to speak.”

He opened his eyes to the darkness, hearing the female voice, and recognising it. He shifted, reaching under his pillow for-

“Your phaser is with me, Ian. You can switch on your light, though. Slowly.”

Trenagen reached for the old-fashioned bedside lamp, its warm yellow glow reaching out but not fully illuminating his bedroom as he focused on the large, dark-furred Caitian female sitting in his chair, facing him, miniature phaser in hand. He forced himself to appear calm, though his heart was racing inside his silk pyjamas. “Good evening, Fleet Captain. This is unexpected.”

“Yes. But then it seems you’re used to unexpected visits. Though you’re usually the one giving them, aren’t you?”

He sat up, gauging how close his other concealed weapons were. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but feminine flesh of any race holds no appeal for me.”

Ma’Sala set down the phaser on an adjacent table. “That’s okay, Ian. To be honest, I’d sooner bend over and spread for a snaggletoothed Ferasan than you. As I’m sure you’ve guessed, I came to talk to you about Sasha.”

Trenagen made a sound. “I’m rather disappointed. I did impress upon the girl the need for our conversation to remain a secret.”

“She said nothing. Your scent was thick in her room the morning after your visit. And knowing you, I knew why you were there. Hence this talk.”

He glanced at his red silk dressing gown, where a subspace alert signal lined one of the pockets. Casually he twisted his legs out from under the bedclothes. “Of course, my dear. Let me make us some tea.”

He reached for the dressing gown.

“Touch that and I’ll eviscerate you.”

He stopped, returning under the covers. “Perhaps another time then?”

“Perhaps.” The Caitian flexed her fingers, letting her claws extend and retract as she regarded him. “You broke the Agreement, Ian. All of the Shadow Agencies of the Quadrant – Section 31, the Mother’s Claws, the Obsidian Order, the Tal Shiar, the V’Shar, the Gin’tak – have survived when our many heads of state have come and gone, because we operate under certain rules... one of those rules being we do not recruit from each other’s families. They’re out of bounds.” She leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “That includes my grandcub. Why would you forget that, Ian?”

He smirked. “Looking to draw her in to your own organisation, Ma’Sala?”

She shook her head. “No. No Cloak and Dagger for her. She has a decent, honourable future ahead of her.”

“Hypocrisy ill becomes you, Madame. You speak of honour, but your fleet employs cloaking devices, subspace isolytic missiles… and then there’s that particularly nasty weapon of yours on your flagship. What do you call it again? The Seven Hells? What would your granddaughter say if she knew about that?”

Ma’Sala rose. “I didn’t come here to debate ethics. I came here to warn you: you try recruiting her into your pack of kussiks again, and I’ll declare a Mother’s War on you.”

Trenagen tilted his head. “That has more than a hint of portent to it.”

“It should.”

“Mother’s War, Mother’s Claws, Mother’s This, Mother’s That… a societal psychiatrist could write a paper on Caitian maternal obsession.”

Ma’Sala bared her teeth. “Ian… you really should take my threat more seriously.”

He leaned back, smiling up at her. “Look at us, woman. These are not our Salad Days, and neither of us are long for this life. I will welcome Death when it comes for me.”

She hissed – and he started as, from shadows in the corners of his bedroom, black-furred Caitian females, clad in equally-black skintight outfits, emerged, eyes baring down on the man in the bed.

“You see, Ian,” Ma’Sala continued. “The Mother’s Claws isn’t like Section 31. We’re more than an agency. We’re kin. Some matters are taken personally.

Very personally.

And if something should happen to me in the near future, and you feel tempted to try and recruit Sasha again… these females have your scent now.

And when they find you again… and they will.. when Death finally comes for you…

It won’t recognise you...”

*

Cait, some time later:

Sr’uuras stepped out onto the veranda, ready to call the cubs down from the shellfruit trees in the garden and remind them of the time – only to see them leaping and tumbling over each other, laughing and chasing each other’s tails as they raced up and to the back door, skidding to a halt as their father scolded, “Wash!”

The twins were climbing over each other to wash the dirt off their hands and feet, H’ish grabbing the towel first and ignoring his sister Rtala’s protests to dry off as well, until Sr’uuras poked his head around the doorway. “It’s about to start… unless you want to keep fighting in your rooms and not watch.”

That always stopped the fighting.

As the six-year-old cubs rushed into the living room, Sr’uuras poked his head into his wife’s office, smiling once more at the chaos that M’Ria seemed to thrive on in her job. “Come on. You need a break.”

M’Ria was hunched over the large datascreen with the building schematics, but now uncoiled herself from her stool, stretching out her limbs and tail before looking over at him. “I’m stuck. Completely paralysed. Go on with the rest of your life, my husband. Best just leave me here to die...”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He stepped in, swept her up and carried her into the living room. Their children were already lying on their bellies on their blankets and pillows on the floor, having turned on the vividscreen and waiting for the news program to finish, and eating bowls of tava pudding from the kitchen. He set his wife down on the couch and moved over to retrieve their wine, settling himself down on the plush cushions and letting M’Ria curl up against him, the adults frowning at the final notices on the Klingon assaults and Dominion and Ferasan threats.

Then the view changed, the familiar theme music rose, and the cubs’ tails swish above them with excitement as The Taleteller’s program logo appeared, and the cubs cheered.

The logo was then replaced by an old-fashioned domestic setting, where Mi’Tree entered and sat down, beaming. “Good evening, Cubs of All Ages! And how is everyone today? Have you done your homework, your chores? Have you been good today?”

On the floor, Rtala looked back at her parents for confirmation, Sr’uuras smiled and replied, as if the image on the screen could hear, “Yes, we all have!”

Rtala grinned and turned back to the screen, but then noticed she had finished her pudding. She looked to her brother. “Can I have some of yours?”

H’ish snorted. “No!”

Onscreen, Mi’Tree lifted up a book from an adjacent table and placed it on his lap, his eyes bright with wonder. “Tonight, I’ll be reading from a most wonderful book I’ve discovered, by a Terran author named Roald Dahl, about a remarkable young female cub named Matilda!”

Then his expression sobered slightly. “But first, I’d like to talk to you about something important. I’ve been receiving many messages from cubs all over Cait and the colonies. Many of you have been watching and listening to the news lately, hearing stories about the fighting that has been going on out there. Many of you are afraid.

Oh, my wonderful cubs… I want to tell you all: it’s okay to be afraid. Everyone gets afraid of things. Your brothers and sisters do. Your parents and grandparents do. We all do. And in the weeks and months to come, you may see and hear more things that might make you afraid.

But it’s okay to be afraid… as long as you don’t let your fear change who you are.

Don’t let your fear make you angry.

Don’t let your fear make you selfish.

Don’t let your fear make you cold.

And perhaps most importantly… don’t let your fear make you unkind.

The Great Mother gave us many gifts, many strengths: our love, our compassion, our mercy, our generosity. And our kindness.

Be kind to each other. To your brothers and sisters, to your parents and grandparents, to your cousins and friends, to your teachers and neighbours, to the strangers you meet in the street.

Every little act of kindness is like a light. A light that can fight the darkness. And with enough light, the darkness can be banished away.”

On the floor, H’ish reached out and poured some of his remaining pudding into his sister’s bowl.

Mi’Tree smiled, as if having seen the act. “And remember as well: we may have enemies out there in the Galaxy… but we also have protectors. Brave men and women of all races, who are prepared to save us. Keep them in your thoughts, for we are in theirs.”

He opened the book and settled back. “Now: are you sitting comfortably? Then let’s begin, for there are many more stories ahead of us...”

THE ADVENTURES OF THE SUREFOOT WILL CONTINUE...