The Nanny State

(Warning: Scenes of violence, suggestive humour and excessive singing)

Esek Hrelle, Captain of the USS Surefoot-A and Unashamedly Proud Father, held the tiny swaddled furred figure in the crook of his left arm, with more care than he had ever shown before with anything, and made sure the holocommunicator cameras in his Ready Room took her in fully, especially her snout twitching as she slept. His voice was equally as gentle as his hold. “And here she is, my darling daughter Sreen: arriving almost a month earlier than expected.”

Standing opposite him, her eyes fixed on the newborn cub, the image of Ma’Sala Shall leaned in, as if expecting to be able to catch Sreen’s scent. She too spoke in a soft voice, belying her size and fearsome reputation. “Of course. She may have your surname, but she is still a Shall female. She will come and go at her own time and pace, and not to anyone else’s schedule. And Kami? How is she doing?”

Hrelle’s jaw ached, and he realised it was because he barely stopped grinning over the past three days. “The birth was relatively easy and quick – I was there for this one this time, along with Sasha, Misha and C’Rash, so we helped with our presence, our scent – but it still took a lot out of her.”

The Matriarch nodded knowingly. “Premature births always do for us.” She smirked. “Was it set off by rutting?”

Hrelle felt his skin heat up beneath his fur. “Maybe.”

She laughed now. “That’s how Kami arrived two weeks early, after a session I had with both her fathers.” More soberly she asked, “And the Neurodystraxia?”

He swallowed, the fingertips on his free hand reaching up to delicately stroke the strands of honey-blonde fur sticking up on her forehead. “The neural issues seem confined to the major motor functions such as her limbs, rather than affecting her autonomic systems, so she won’t need life support.” He moved his forefinger to her oh-so-tiny hand, watching the stubby fingers twitch as it to instinctively grasp it in her sleep, but failing. “Just an exoframe when she’s mobile and grabby.”

“Esek… there’s a Llalare on his way to you.”

He looked up. “A Llalare?”

Ma’Sala nodded. “Actually, Dr Furore’s much more than that.”

“A doctor?”

“Of Paediatrics, with secondary qualifications in Cub Psychology and Education.”

“Really? He sounds… impressive.”

“He’s cared for the cubs of some of the most prominent clans on our Motherworld. And he has experience helping Neurodystraxics. I’ll send you the details on him.”

“Thanks.”

She studied him curiously. “You don’t want him?”

“No, no, it’s not that. We definitely need someone, not just for her, but for Misha; he’s getting to be a pawful, and needs more formal educational assistance than we can provide. And we’re getting… busier, with the War, and can’t rely on letting crew and cadets take turns to mind them; they didn’t sign up for that. And if I insist on our staying out here, and together, we need someone qualified and exclusively devoted to looking after them.”

“I agree. So what’s with the face like a smacked arse- oh. You would have preferred to be consulted first, is that it?”

He looked up. And didn’t deny it.

“I apologise, Esek, but he became available at short notice, especially with the early birth, and I couldn’t let the opportunity fly by. If it helps salve your pride, remember... I’m still Matriarch. What I say, goes.”

He smiled, showing genuine gratitude now. “And I’ll know he’ll be the best, because nothing’s too good for your grandcubs, right?”

She smiled back. “You learn quickly, Kin-Son.”

He nodded. “Just tell us how much for his services, and Kami and I will-”

“-Will do nothing, it’s already been taken care of through the Clan Treasury. He’s on a Swift, rendezvousing with the Surefoot in 2 days.”

“And he’s okay working on a Starfleet vessel? It’ll be different to any Caitian ships he might have been on.”

Ma’Sala smiled. “He’ll be fine. He’s very easy going. Plays the frettercast. Cubs love him, I’m told.”

“I’ll inform my First Officer, she’ll make the proper berth arrangements for him.” He glanced down at Sreen again. “She’s due for another feeding. Thanks again, Ma’Sala.”

The Matriarch smiled. “Give my best to my daughter… and take care out there, Esek. I love you all.”

*

Commander T’Varik folded her hands behind her. “A Llalare?”

Kami sat up in bed and drew out a breast from her blouse for her newborn daughter. “A Caitian term that describes someone who minds, teaches and cares for cubs, who isn’t bound by kith or kin to the cubs’ clan but usually still lives with them. They’re more than just employees, since they’re being entrusted with cubs: a ‘nanny’ is the closest Standard term to describe it. Well, I can’t say I’m not grateful to Mama.”

The Vulcan nodded. “The quarters I share with Lt Shall are adjacent to yours; with your permission, I will recommend that we move to the quarters opposite, and arrange for a door to be built between it and the cubs’ room, to facilitate access for Dr Furore.”

“A lovely idea, T’Varik, thank you,” Kami smiled, wincing a little as Sreen greedily suckled away. “But aren’t you comfortable where you are?”

“We will of course manage with all due resolve.”

At the desk, Hrelle was studying the personnel file Ma’Sala sent him about Furore, and never looked up. “And by moving across the corridor, you get further away from the inevitable crying, so as not to disturb you and your betrothed during your more amorous moments?”

Kami looked to T’Varik quizzically; the Vulcan said nothing.

Smirking, he threw a vivid from the files up onto the wallscreen. The women looked up to see a lean, young Caitian male, tan- and white-furred but, unusually, with black spots. Dressed in a runner’s vest and shorts, he was recorded racing along a dirt road on a savannah on Cait with ease, while spectators on either side cheered him on.

“Hmm,” Kami noted with interest. “Spots.”

“Mother’s Cubs,” Hrelle muttered. “He’s Spotted.”

“I assume that such a variation is uncommon,” T’Varik opined. “And perhaps comes with a… reputation?”

“Right on both counts,” Kami informed her, pausing to smile down at her daughter. “Spotted Caitians occur in less than 5% of the population, and historically are renowned for being creative, boisterous, eccentric-”

“Clowns,” Hrelle groused, bringing up another vivid, of an older Furore in some classroom, playing the frettercast to a group of cubs sitting in a semi-circle before him, singing along. “And Ma’Sala expects someone like him to be a mature role model-”

“Shush.” Kami studied the scene, nodding with obvious appreciation. “Oh, he’s good. The cubs are drawn to him, and he’s engaging them, encouraging participation.” She pointed up at the screen. “Watch: his emotions are genuine, nothing is faked. And he’s observing all of them, leaving no one out, coaxing the shyer ones into finishing verses.”

“Big fat furry deal,” Hrelle growled under his breath.

The vivid changed to another scene, to what looked like a Caitian medical facility, with Furore fitting an exoframe onto a Caitian male about Misha’s age, with obvious signs of Neurodystraxia, before setting him off on a tentative walk, moving to the other side of the room and patiently encouraging the toddler to let the frame assist him.

And it was working; the toddler moved towards him, faltering at first, but then more quickly as his confidence grew, before collapsing into Furore’s waiting arms, the doctor praising his achievement with sincere affection.

“We’re having that male as our nanny,” Kami announced.

Hrelle couldn’t help but be moved by the scene, by both the cub’s achievement and by the obvious love he received for his efforts from the spotted male, but still managed a grumble. “Well, I suppose he’ll do-”

She looked at her husband now. “It’s adorable that you’re talking like it’s open to debate.” She pointed at the wallscreen. “We’re having that male as our nanny!”

*

“Captain’s Log, Stardate 50619.76: We have undocked from K7 to allow another ship in the Fleet to undergo repair, resupply and refitting, but will remain in the general vicinity with the rest of our ships. We are also about to welcome onboard our new… nanny. I’m sure he’ll be ideal for the role. Absolutely... ideal.”

At her adjacent seat, T’Varik looked at him as he closed his logbook. “A little… peevish, Captain?”

“Me? No, I’m probably just a little tired from the nightly feeding for Sreen. Forgot what that was like when Misha was her age.”

From behind them, Lt Neheru looked up. “Captain, the Caitian Swift has arrived, and is prepared to beam over their passenger.”

Hrelle’s gaze to the vessel of the viewscreen confirmed his Ops Officer’s report, and he rose. “Send my wife and son to Transporter Room 1. T’Varik, let’s welcome Dr Fabulous.”

“I thought his surname was Furore, Sir.”

He shot her a dirty look as they departed the Bridge.

*

Several transporter columns of energy appeared, and for a moment, Hrelle thought the new arrival was bringing along a small team of assistants with him. But it was just his possessions – including an acoustic frettercast, Hrelle noted sourly.

The nanny himself appeared at the forefront, his scent filling the air, a heady musk of a young, fit, wiry male, probably from the Mlell Peninsula (Who are you kidding? Hrelle asked himself. You know you got that part already from his Bio), with a short, stubby muzzle and ears, and clad in baggy shorts and shirt more appropriate for a beachcomber than a professional, the shirt open and revealing a trim chest with a belly of snow-white fur.

He smiled and opened his arms wide. “Look! I made it with all my bits!” He patted himself down. “At least, I hope I did.” He drew away the waistband of his shorts and peered down the front, nodding with approval. “Yep. Everything’s there.”

Between Hrelle and Kami, Misha giggled.

Hrelle stepped forward, clearing his throat. “Doctor, welcome onboard the Surefoot. I’m-”

But the younger male dropped to one knee in front of Misha, holding out his arms for a hug. “You must be Captain Hrelle!” As Misha moved in to hug back, he continued. “I’ve heard so much about you, Captain, Sir! It’ll be a pleasure serving under you!” He drew back, indicating Hrelle now. “Is he your assistant? He looks just like you, but much bigger.”

“He’s my Papa!” Misha clarified, laughing. “He’s Captain!”

“Oh? Well, I’ll bet they only let him be Captain because he can get things from high shelves. I guess you’re Misha, then. Which makes me... Jhess!” He rose again and hugged Hrelle without preamble. “Delighted, excited and amazed to meet you, Esek! If half the stories I’ve heard about you are true, we are going to have so much fun together!”

Before Hrelle could respond, Furore moved to Kami, who was cradling a swaddled Sreen. Instead of boisterously hugging her, however, he smiled, took her hand and rubbed it against his muzzle, his voice low and measured so as not to alarm the cub. “And I am honoured to meet a fellow professional, Kami, especially one with your experience and qualifications. I read your last article in the Journal of Interspecies Medicine two months ago on Caitian Pheromone Withdrawal, by the way, and found it fascinating; I’m looking forward to learning more from you.”

Hrelle growled, but she ignored her husband to smile at Jhess and reply, “Thank you, Doctor.”

He released her hand. “It’s ‘Jhess’ for you, too; if you start using my title around here, I might be expected to do real work.”

“Of course, Jhess.” She indicated her infant. “And this is Sreen.”

The male focused on the tiny furry bundle, her huge bronze eyes opening to look back up at him. He leaned in slightly, breathing in her scent, and then whispered to her, “My Lady, there’s something you need to know before we go on: you’re perfect. You’re absolutely perfect. And I’ll fight anyone who says differently. That’s no lie.”

The infant began purring, bringing on a delighted grin from her mother.

Furore grinned too as he stepped back, and Hrelle indicated the Vulcan on his other side. “And this is my First Officer, Commander T’Varik. She is also a part of our family, first as Misha’s Godmother, and now she has agreed to perform the same role for Sreen.”

Furore drew up to T’Varik, hugging her as well, before drawing back, sniffing and smiling. “T’Varik… I think I love you. Will you marry me?”

Misha giggled again.

“No,” she replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

His smile dropped, and his jaw quivered as if he was ready to cry. “Oh. I’m a broken male now.”

Misha leaned forward and informed him, “Godmama’s marrying Cousin C’Rash!”

“Is she?” Furore looked back at T’Varik, nodding sagely at the news. “Well, I’m glad to hear that you’ve finally managed to put what we had together behind you, and find true love again.”

She folded her hands behind her back. “The long nights alone without you were the most difficult, but I persevered.”

Furore was taken aback by the response, and offered her an appreciative smile. “Oh, I’ll have to watch myself around you, T’Varik! You are definitely no ordinary Vulcan!” He looked back at the other adults. “It’s a genuine joy to be accepted by all of you. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Hrelle cleared his throat again. “Yes, well, there are a number of briefings for you to undergo-”

“Do you have kitchen facilities onboard?”

He blinked. “Kitchen? Yes, in the Officer’s Mess-”

“How aptly named! That’s what I always leave behind.” He turned, picked up several bags he slung over his shoulder, and turned back. “I brought some fresh produce direct from Cait, let’s all go there, I’ll whip us up a quick Mrada Stir Fry-” He paused to look at T’Varik and add, “Vegetarian, of course; I haven’t forgotten your preferences, Darling,” before turning back to the others. “While you brief me, question me, torture me, tickle me, do what you must. Just don’t forget me.” He grinned. “As if such a thing were possible.”

“Standard procedure for newly-arrived civilian staff onboard starships is strict, Dr Furore,” T’Varik informed him archly.

“And it was T’Plana-Hath, Matron of Vulcan Philosophy, who pointed out, ‘The Universe is merciless to those unable to adapt.’” He winked at the raised eyebrow she gave in response to his quote. “And it’s tradition for a guest at a Caitian household to cook the first meal for his hosts.”

“He’s right about that, T’Varik,” Kami confirmed, smiling. “And he’s not like other civilian staff, as he’ll be working directly for Esek and myself.”

T’Varik sighed and looked to Hrelle. “I will of course accede to the wishes of our Commanding Officer.”

But Hrelle just shrugged. “Don’t look at me, they only let me be Captain to get things from high shelves.”

*

Furore had Misha standing on a stool at the table, carefully chopping up stalks of ninshoots with a safety knife, while the older male prepared the bulk of the food, inveigling Hrelle into peeling and cubing some sweetbulbs, while Furore made sure Kami and Sreen were seated. “My last job was at New Landing, taking care of the cubs of Governor La’Tahn; adorable little bundles of fun, they were. But then they started off for school, and I was considering a position at a Paediatrics Clinic at Hria, when Fleet Captain Shall contacted me-” He paused, reached out and stopped Misha, repositioning the food and knife. “Hold it like I showed you, it’ll cut easier and safer. Misha Fingers are not in the recipe.”

Kami had started nursing again. “We saw vivids of you in some marathon. Was it Hsova?”

He looked up, blowing a raspberry. “The Hsova Run of 2357; I was the tender age of 16, just before I started my undergraduate work.” He moved to the nearby replicator, saying over his shoulder. “My marathon days are long past. I’ve piled on the kilos since then.”

Hrelle turned to glance at the male’s muscular rear, where his thin, spotted tail swished as he fed the replicator instructions. “Mind telling me where you have those kilos cloaked on you, Stringbean?”

Furore laughed and returned with a tall and short glass of thick dark purple liquid, topped with straws. “Tavaberry smoothies.” He set the tall one in front of Kami. “Because you need to replenish the nutrients you’re feeding My Lady there.” He set the short one in front of Misha. “And because you need a purple tongue.”

As mother and son partook, and Furore gathered up the vegetables and threw them into the nearby wok, Hrelle watched him and said, “Doctor-”

“Jhess, please, Esek. Would you believe it’s short for ‘Jhesster’?”

“Yes,” T’Varik replied, deadpan.

“Flirt,” Jhess winked.

Hrelle remained unmoved by the banter. “Jhess… I don’t know if Ma’Sala explained it, but you need to be aware that though we’re primarily an ambulance vessel, we will still be going into combat zones.”

“Combat, huh?” He opened a small case onto the table, revealing a set of spices and sauces of varied colours. “Sounds exciting. Can you replicate some bowls and utensils please?”

Hrelle paused as he stood up, but then proceeded. “There’s nothing ‘exciting’ about combat. It’s chaotic, and brutal, and dangerous, and-”

“-And your department, Esek.” He began adding sauces and spices to the mix in the wok. “I have a few talents, but one of them isn’t commanding a starship in battle. Whatever we might face out here, I trust you’ll keep us as safe as you can.” He started up the wok and reached for some utensils. “I’ll let you do your job, and you let me do mine.”

Just as the door to the Mess Hall slid open, and Lt C’Rash Shall walked in, taking in the scene. “I was looking for our new arrival in the Ready Room, Sir.”

Hrelle returned to the table with the bowls and utensils. “We decided to have the initial briefing here. Doctor- Jhess, this is-”

“Lieutenant Shall, Chief of Security,” Furore finished, rushing up and hugging C’Rash warmly. The coal-furred Caitian stiffened, but relented as Furore drew back, grinning. “I caught your scent on your lovely partner. Misha informed me that you two are engaged – you and T’Varik, of course, not you and your cousin, Misha is having far too much fun staying single – and I wanted to express my congratulations! Come on in, you’re just in time for some stir fry- Oh, the stir fry!” He rushed back to the sizzling wok and resumed stirring. “Esek, the bowls, please!”

Hrelle stopped himself, before catching Kami smirking at his curmudgeonly attitude. Moments later, everyone but Furore was sitting before bowls of food, the new arrival moving over to Kami, who had stopped feeding Sreen. “Here, let me hold her, give your arm a rest. I’m too excited being here to eat anyway!”

Kami looked up to him, and did so, watching how carefully he settled Sreen against his shoulder, gently patting her on the back to burp her as he looked around at them. “Please, eat! Eat!”

C’Rash watched him intently too. “And how long have you been taking care of cubs, Doctor?”

“It’s Jhess,” he corrected gently, nuzzling the infant as he moved around the table. “Everyone onboard has to call me ‘Jhess’. Well, I got my degree in Paediatrics at the Academy in Mlell almost ten years ago, had a residency in K’Grurri where I specialised in Neurodystraxia and Exoframe Therapy, earned additional qualifications-”

“And what did you specialise in when you were in the Militia?”

Furore stopped and seemed to regard her. “The Militia? I wasn’t in the Militia, C’Rash, Darling, though the Academy was near the Militia base there.” He grinned. “Can you imagine me trying to be disciplined enough for military duty? I can’t even manage to wear matching socks, when I do wear them!” He stopped at Misha, leaned in and admonished, “Swallow what you’ve got in there already before shovelling more in; it’s not a race.”

Misha nodded in acquiescence, his muzzle full of food.

“You seem very... fit for a civilian,” C’Rash noted.

“Well, thank you, my ebon-furred beauty! Keep this up and you’ll give me Happy Tail!” Now he leaned towards T’Varik, who had been tentatively trying the stir fry. “You’d best be careful with her, I might have to try to woo her from you.”

C’Rash bristled, but T’Varik remained composed. “After this concession to Caitian tradition, I will conduct you on a tour of this vessel, identifying the areas restricted for you, as well as introducing you to the key personnel with whom you may be interacting, such as the medical staff, who will run a preliminary examination. You will also need to complete mandatory briefings on safety procedures, evacuation protocols-”

“Sounds exhausting,” Furore noted. “I’m going to have to unwind after all that. Is there a place for meditation onboard?”

“The Arboretum is often used for such purposes.”

He smiled. “Sounds ideal. Now, if only I had someone to show me the way...”

Misha, still eating, raised his hand and made attention-seeking noises.

“Well, looks like I’ve got a guide.” Furore then looked down at Sreen. “And it sounds like we’ve got a burp!”

“Captain,” C’Rash said. “May I speak with you outside, please?”

Hrelle nodded, reacting to her formality, as he rose and followed her out into the corridor, waiting until the door slid shut before asking, “What’s up?”

She nodded back towards the Mess Hall, her fur raised. “What do you know about him?”

He frowned back. “Apart from what you’ve heard just now? Ma’Sala sent him. He has excellent references. He seems overly qualified even for a Llalare, but then he’ll be treating a cub with Neurodystraxia, and it would be just like Ma’Sala to send us someone with his pedigree for her grandcub. He’s annoyingly skinny… and annoying in general, at least to me, but everyone else seems to like him. Don’t you?”

She grunted, bristling. “When he hugged me, there was… something, something about the way he held himself. Someone very much in control, muscle memory. Someone with more to him than taking care of cubs and running. Don’t you sense it?”

He tilted his head in the direction of the Mess Hall, as if he could see through the walls. “To be honest, he’s been raising my hackles from the start… but since the birth, and having interrupted sleep patterns to feed Sreen, I’ve been off my game a little, and I figured my responses to him were because of that.”

He looked at her again. “Run some security checks, go through Starfleet Intelligence, the Federation database, Caitian Local Authorities. Shake the tall grass, and see what you can scare out, if anything. You have my authorisation... but keep this between us for now. I don’t want your aunt to think that I’m not grateful for Ma’Sala sending him.”

“Aye, Sir.”

“And get on it right away; if Doctor Fabulous in there is hiding something, I want to know what it is.”

She nodded and departed towards the Bridge. Hrelle returned to the Mess Hall, where Furore had produced his frettercast, and was now singing the old children’s song Hnall and His Crooked Tail.

“Hnall and his Crooked Tail

Went racing round the tree,

Trying to catch the cheeky cub

That only he could see

But when he caught his tail and pulled

It hurt! What could it be?

‘Mama! I think the cheeky cub

I caught is me!’”

Next to his mother, Misha looked up wide-eyed and informed her, “Mama! Mama! He was chasing his own tail! And he didn’t know!”

Kami grinned at her son’s revelation. “Really?” She looked to T’Varik, who was holding Sreen now. “I bet you didn’t see that coming, did you?”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “It was an anagnorisis worthy of Aristotle.” Then she looked down, to see Sreen was moving her head towards T’Varik’s breast. “I am sorry, Goddaughter, but you will not get any nourishment from mine.”

Misha guffawed. “Godmama’s boobs aren’t for you, Sreen! They’re for Cousin C’Rash!”

“Misha!” Kami scolded – while trying not to laugh out loud, a task that Jhess utterly failed at, while Kami looked to T’Varik. “Sorry about that.”

But the Vulcan appeared unoffended. “My Godson is not... entirely inaccurate in his assessment.”

Hrelle continued to stare. The male seemed so open, so genuine. Before, he was willing to dismiss his own qualms about Furore.

Now...

*

Sreen looked up with wide-eyed wonder at the huge faces surrounding her on either side of the Sickbay biobed. Furore leaned in, looking down with deep regard, his expression serious. “She’s very deficient.”

Beside him, Kami frowned with worry. “Deficient?”

He nodded sombrely. “A severe lack of Belly Berries.” Then he bent down, pressed his snout on Sreen’s furred belly and blew raspberries, inducing pleasing sounds in the infant.

He drew back again. “There: I think we took care of it in time. But we’ll have to watch out for that in future.”

On the other side of the biobed, Dr Masterson chuckled. “Don’t recall reading that in any of my medical texts, Pardner.”

“You have to specialise.” Furore smiled at Sreen – but kept glancing up at the readings over the head of the biobed. “Expected Neurodystraxic pathologies in the thoracoabdomianl branches: illiolinguinal, illiohypogastric, theobronchial, obturator, charictor, sacral plexus-” He smiled. “Nothing wrong with the coccygian region, however.” He glanced at Kami. “My Lady’s gonna have a very waggy tail, with no hiding anything from her Mama and Papa. And her peripheral neural branches are fine, so her skin will be as sensitive as anyone else’s.”

“I’ve been reading up on the condition since I first made the diagnosis, Doc,” Masterson noted. “I was wondering about the possibility of cybernetic neural bridging implants-”

“It was tried a few years ago, Zeke,” Furore replied absently, keeping his eyes locked on Sreen as he danced his fingertips along the length of her body. “The results were poor in any but adults with severe Neurodystraxia, given how quickly the cubs grow and develop. And Caitians have a historical antipathy towards cybernetics and nanotechnology anyway. Exoframes with tactile interfaces and adjustable antigrav balancers have proven the best way forward for my people.”

Masterson took that in. “Well, it’ll be mighty fine having another professional around, especially one who can manage the Little Critters.” He paused as one of his nurses handed him a PADD. “Well, Jhessie, the results of your physical have come back. You’re fit as a fiddle-” Then he frowned. “But how did you get those old thoron burns on your back and hips? I’ve only ever seen that from folk wounded from disruptor fire.”

Furore never took his eyes off of his patient, but laughed. “Goodness, Zeke, I wish it had been that exciting! No, you can blame those burns on a faulty thoron generator exploding at Mlell Academy. I mostly recovered… but it ended my marathon days.”

“Ahh. And these suppressed areas in your memory engrams from around the same time are a part of that incident?”

The Caitian male nodded. “Part of the therapy, helping to suppress the traumatic memories of the accident.” He sighed. “I took it badly at the time.”

Masterson nodded too, updating the PADD with the information. “Thanks for that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another argument to break up between some of my other doctors.”

“It’ll be a pleasure working with you, Zeke – and duetting with you on your guitar later!” Furore turned back to Kami. “Okay, Mama, time to teach you a few things.”

The adults switched places, as Furore took the Counselor’s hands in her own. “Now, I know that at this stage, you won’t be needing any encouragement to be getting hold of your newborn cub, but there’s a few exercises you’ll need to perform with My Lady while doing it, 8-10 times a day, so her muscles will be developed enough for when she’s ready for her first exoframe, as her natural motility will be restricted.”

He guided her hands through a series of gentle exercises for Sreen’s arms, neck, ankles, wrists, neck and hips. “And of course, throughout you’re encouraged to talk to her, purr, sing…” He released his touch, letting her continue. “These exercises can be done by yourself, Esek, T’Varik, C’Rash, even Misha; I’ll teach them. And of course I’ll be doing it while all of you are working or studying.”

Kami nodded as she did so – but her expression betrayed her true feelings, as tears welled up in her eyes. “She’s- She’s-”

Furore leaned in, putting a reassuring arm around her and murmuring, “Listen to me, Kami: in the last decade, I’ve cared for many cubs of all shapes and sizes. So I can say with all certainty that Sreen is going to grow up and knock the Galaxy on its furry ass. And you, as her Mama, will look back on this day, and know that it all began here, with what you’re doing now to help her get there.” He paused and added, “And if you’re anything like my Mama was, you’ll remind her. Constantly.”

Kami laughed.

So did Sreen.

*

Hrelle found no one in his quarters that evening when his shift ended, but heard noises through the door to the cub’s room, and entered – only to find no one there, but the new door to Furore’s adjacent quarters open, and his family in with the new Llalare, who had already redecorated with items from home, and now sat around a small table playing cards (except for Sreen, who sat secure in a portable infant’s chair Hrelle didn’t recognise, watching the proceedings). Misha looked up from behind his cards, beside a stack of sagabeans representing winnings, beaming. “Papa! I’m playing Purr-Prowl-Pounce!”

Kami looked up as well, smiling. “Our son has proven quite gifted at this. He plays aggressively; his Grandpa Mi’Tree will be proud.”

As if in illustration, Misha leaned forward, declared, “Pounce!” and took one of the cards from his mother’s hand for his own, slamming down a Three of Stars from his own hand onto the table in exchange.

Jhess folded his own hand onto the table and rose. “And I’m regretting teaching him; he’s cleaned me out of all my sagabeans. I think you should take over, Esek.”

“Yeah, Papa!” Misha agreed. “I beat you, too!”

Hrelle’s smile dropped; he wanted to teach his son Purr-Prowl-Pounce… when the cub was old enough. Something else you’ve missed out on, Esek, he reminded himself, forcing a smile as he approached the table. “We’ll see about, Cub of Mine-”

Then he stopped as his combadge chirped, and T’Varik’s voice filled the air. “Captain, apologies, I know you’ve just completed your shift, but we have received orders to leave the Fleet immediately and rendezvous with the refugee ship USS Azimech.”

He blinked. Since the hostilities in the Quadrant, there had been a rapid increase in older passenger and freighter vessels being refitted and conscripted as refugee ships. “Any particular reason why we’re meeting them, Commander?”

“No, Sir, though presumably details will be provided by Admiral Tattok. He awaits you on a secure channel.”

He ground his teeth. “I’ll take it in my Ready Room. Hrelle out.” He looked to the other Caitians. “Sorry, folks, Duty Calls. I don’t know how long I’ll be, so carry on-”

Kami rose up and rubbed her muzzle against his. “I hope it’s not too critical.”

“Me, too.” He looked to Misha. “Sorry I can’t stay and play, son.”

The cub never looked up from his cards. “S’Okay, Papa, Jhess here. Don’t need you.”

Hrelle blinked. “Oh. Good.” He nodded to the other male and marched to the nearest door.

He heard the door open behind him as he stormed down the corridor, and his ears and nose told him who was catching up. Kami grabbed his elbow to stop him. “Hey-”

He shook off her hold. “Admiral Tattok’s waiting for me.”

“The Gnome can wait a minute longer.” She caught his gaze, her expression consoling. “Now, you know your son didn’t mean that the way it came out-”

“No, of course not.”

”So there’s no reason to react like you’re being replaced in any way by Jhess.”

“None whatsoever.”

“Misha is going to be excited by the new arrival, but the novelty will quickly wear off when he has to start taking formal lessons and knuckle down.”

“Absolutely.”

She stared at him for a moment before quipping, “Well, I’m so glad we’ve had this mature, productive chat, Husband of Mine. Best run off now while you’ve still got a fresh sulk on.” She started back, but then stopped and advised, “Oh, and if you’re late, and Jhess and I have gone to bed together, go sleep on the couch, okay?”

He made a familiar cocktail shaking gesture with his right hand.

She remained unimpressed. “I’m glad you still remember how to do that; keep this up and it’ll be a permanent part of your nightly routine.”

He watched her return to Jhess’ quarters, accepting that she was being perfectly sensible, reasonable and right.

It was damned annoying.

*

The image on the screen was that a standard cigar-shaped starship with stubby warp nacelles mounted on the aft section. Hrelle leaned back in his chair. “This is the USS Azimech, a medium-level passenger liner now contracted by the Federation Refugee Council to assist in the evacuation and transport of Federation citizens. Or in this case, former Federation citizens.”

Standing beside T’Varik, Masterson echoed, “Former?”

“Given recent events,” T’Varik opined, “One can infer that the Azimech is transporting the surviving members of the Maquis from the Demilitarised Zone near the Cardassian Border.”

“Most of them won’t be Maquis,” Hrelle corrected, his stomach churning with the memory of the details of the reports coming out of the DMZ. “Just ordinary people who refused to leave their homes and colonies. Not that the Cardassians and their new masters will care.”

He was still stunned that the Cardassians’ new leader, Dukat, had made good on his promise to sweep the DMZ clean of the Maquis presence once and for all. But he had – but with the assistance of the Dominion’s Jem’Hadar, and the cost of untold numbers of innocent lives, whether they were actually Maquis or not, but just unfortunate enough not to get away in time.

“Where are they headed, Sir?” Neheru, who, along with the other duty officer, Velkovsky, asked.

“The Azimech is transporting them to Jaros II, where everyone will be vetted to see who might secretly be Starfleet personnel who deserted to join the Maquis, and be tried and imprisoned at the Starfleet stockade there.”

Now Velkovsky spoke up. “After all they’ve been through, they’re still gonna face trial? They weren’t pirates or terrorists!”

“Except for when they deserted, and used their Starfleet knowledge and training and committed acts of piracy and terrorism, raiding Starfleet vessels and installations for weapons and supplies. And their actions inevitably exacerbated the conflict within the Demilitarised Zone, thus provoking the Cardassians towards this Final Solution.”

The blonde human’s face flushed with anger, and Neheru placed a hand on her shoulder as she demanded, “Are you blaming them for being massacred-”

Hrelle rapped his knuckles on his desk, ending the argument and regaining the attention. “It’s too late in the evening for me to be arguing politics. There’s been an outbreak of what the onboard medical staff believe is Larosian Fever. About eight infected, so far. They’re reluctant to keep them onboard, as most of the refugees, being where they were, won’t be fully inoculated against it, and the Azimech doesn’t have the facilities to mass-replicate the necessary vaccine.”

Masterson nodded. “With the numbers onboard, and the virulence of Larosian Fever, the risk of outbreak will be high.”

“So we’re going to collect the infected, isolate and treat them in Sickbay Three, run a sweep of the rest of the Azimech for more victims, replicate and supply them with vaccines and anything else they might need. We arrive in 14 hours; recheck everyone’s immunisation records onboard, make sure those who need boosters get them before we arrive. Dismissed.”

The others departed – but T’Varik remained, waiting until the Ready Room door slid shut before offering, “Captain, if I may, you seem troubled. Is it the nature of our mission with the Maquis? I recall your prior encounter with them and Mr Bowie-”

He switched off the display. “No; I hold no grudges against them. And though I never supported their actions, I certainly don’t support what has happened to them now.” He rubbed at his eyes. “It’s the new Nanny… or rather, it’s my reaction to him. My hackles rise.”

Something like amusement almost crossed T’Varik’s expression. “He is an acquired taste.”

“But I’m reacting more sharply than I expected. I have C’Rash checking up on his background. I’m trying to find something wrong with him. Some excuse to… send him away. Then-”

“Then your abnormally-heightened protective nature will be sated?” T’Varik suggested.

He looked up, making a sound. “Heightened?”

The Vulcan folded her hands behind her. “It is logical that your current behaviour is due to post-partum pheromones Kami will be producing, making you more territorial regarding a strange male in your midst.”

He blinked. Yes… Yes, it was obvious! Of course, he was probably the same when Misha was born, but unlike then, there were no adult Caitian males nearby… “How do you know so much about that?”

“Since my engagement to your niece, I have been learning more about Caitian physiology, psychology and customs. It seemed logical to be prepared to understand the… singular habits of your people.”

He nodded, smiling. “Thank you for your insight, T’Varik. I might go for a suppressant before I retire for the evening. Dismissed.” But as she nodded back and turned towards the door, he added, “Oh, Commander?” When she turned around again, he asked, “Does this mean that when you marry C’Rash, you’re gonna start calling me ‘Uncle Esek’, too?”

She stayed silent and glared at him.

“Never mind,” he finished, shooing her towards the door again.

*

His quarters were dark when he finally returned, and he smelled his wife was in bed, asleep, but he heard a soft lullaby from the cub monitor nearby, and he strode up to the cub’s room door and let it slide open.

It was also dark in here, though his Caitian vision and hearing guided him around. Misha was asleep in his bed, snoring away, so Hrelle’s attention focused on Furore, sitting in a chair near the open doorway to his own quarters. He was feeding Sreen with a tiny bottle, and singing a soothing lullaby Hrelle didn’t recognise:

“When you’re so lonely

Lying in bed

Night’s closed its eyes

But you can’t rest your head

Everyone's sleeping,

All through the house

You wish you could dream

But forgot to somehow

Sing this lullaby to yourself

Sing this lullaby to yourself...”

Hrelle stood and listened attentively, observing how easily the other male managed his daughter. Then Furore set aside the emptied bottle and rose, carefully supporting the swaddled infant as he murmured, “Come here, Esek. She needs burping.”

Hrelle complied, his suspicions waved aside as he sensed his cubs were in no danger. Sreen gurgled as Furore handed over the precious cargo, instructing, “Careful, she needs more support around the neck than a normal cub.”

Hrelle suppressed a flash of anger at the words – he knew what to do with his own cub, damn it! – before acknowledging the wisdom behind the words.

Sreen began purring at she took in her Papa’s scent.

“That’s it,” Furore whispered encouragingly, as Hrelle gently patted the infant’s back. “You’re marvellous with your cubs, Esek. Misha doesn’t stop talking about you.”

Hrelle sighed, wondering how much of what the other male was saying was some sort of balm against his obvious hurt earlier at his son’s inadvertent dismissal. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, not just with mine, but others we’ve seen on the Vivids Ma’Sala sent us. Have you always wanted to be a paediatrician?”

Furore made an amused sound. “Seven Hells, yes, ever since I was a cub myself, patching up the kinked tails and scraped knees of my siblings and cousins at Clan Gatherings. There’s something about being able to help a cub in distress, to defend them against the pain and illness they’re facing. Being a nanny seemed a natural extension of that.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have cubs of your own.”

Hrelle sensed a shift in mood from the other male, before the easy-going persona returned. “Ahh, but if I did, Esek, I wouldn’t have the pleasure of meeting beauties such as My Lady here.” He collected the bottle and bib from his chair. “Settle her down when she’s burped; I have a monitor of my own in here, and if either of them wakes up, I’ll take care of them. You’ve had a long day of it, and you need your rest, too. Good night, Esek.”

Hrelle regarded the figure in the dark, wishing he could see more to gauge the other male’s expression now. “Good night, Jhess. And… thank you for coming. We’re lucky to have you here.”

Now Furore made an amused sound. “I’m the lucky one. Good night.” He departed, his door sliding shut.

Hrelle stood there, still gently rocking and patting his daughter, until a tiny belch emerged, and he wiped her muzzle and settled her down in her crib.

*

It was the following day, and an hour before the rendezvous with the Azimech, when Hrelle decided to grab something to eat and see his family. He heard the music and commotion in the Crew’s Mess Hall, and entered, staying near the door so as to not attract attention.

Most of the off-duty crew was sitting around the tables, food ignored, laughing and whooping as Furore and Doc Masterson sat on stools near the replicators, jamming on their respective acoustic frettercast and guitar, some lively mish-mash of Terran Spanish Classical and Caitian ballad, while Misha danced nearby.

All three took a bow while the cadets applauded. Hrelle felt his hackles rising again.

*

He found Kami in her office with their daughter. He moved up to Sreen, lying in her chair, reaching out for her. “Come here, Sweetheart-”

Kami was at her desk, working on something on her PADD, but looked up at him. “Leave her, I’ve only just got her to sleep.”

He squatted beside the chair. “I want to cuddle her!”

“Cuddle later.”

“But I’ll have to be back on the Bridge with T’Varik later!”

Kami shrugged. “You can always cuddle her instead. What’s bothering you?”

“Jhess was playing music in the Mess Hall with Zeke. And he was letting Misha jump around like a performing monkey!”

“Yes, because our cub never likes jumping around, being the centre of attention.”

“He’s the Captain’s son! There’s a question of maintaining dignity!”

“Says the man who once interrupted a staff meeting to finish a chicken drumstick he found in the pocket of his jacket.”

Hrelle bristled; that was a good piece of chicken… “I suppose I should be grateful that at least for once he wasn’t singing. I never knew anyone outside of a musical vivid who sang as much as he does.”

“Yeah, he’s just the worst.”

“Well, someone needs to tell Doctor Fabulous that Misha needs more than just fun. I bet he hasn’t mentioned anything about the cub’s education, has he?”

Kami stopped, put down her PADD, picked up another on her desk and handed it to him. “Here you go: Jhess has already run an assessment on Misha’s current academic strengths and weaknesses, and provided a detailed curriculum of the lessons planned for him over the coming year to help him not only meet, but exceed the standards expected for Caitian cubs his age. Of which musical skills, by the way, will be part of it. Prepare for many boring recital nights on the frettercast or strummer.”

He took the PADD, had a quick check through some of it, before setting it down again and sitting opposite her. He stunned himself with how quickly he had forgotten warming up to the younger male last night, only to turn cold again just now. “I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, but the answer is probably Yes.”

“Well, it may interest you to know that I stopped by Sickbay before I came to bed last night and took some suppressants.”

“Suppressants?”

He nodded. “To deal with your pheromones making me protective and aggressive towards a strange male in our midst.”

Kami set down her PADD again and regarded him. “Esek… I’ve been taking suppressants since the birth. I haven’t been producing those pheromones.”

He blinked. “No?”

“No.” She reached out and took his hand in hers, squeezing. “I’m afraid to have to tell you that you have no biochemical excuse for acting like a Big Growling Male. You just don’t like that there’ll be another influential Caitian male in Misha’s daily life, and you no longer hold that monopoly. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you two will get along… or rather, the sooner you’ll get along with him. You two should go bond.”

“Bond?”

“Yes. Go talk to him, play some games, have beers, work out, share stories about the adventures you’ve had with your penises-”

“You have no idea what males do together, do you?”

She smirked. “I probably know a shipload more than you, Husband of Mine.”

He grunted, but as he rose and departed thought She’s probably right.

*

The Caitian on the desk viewscreen in C’Rash’s office looked like he hadn’t had his first Season; his russet-coloured fur was offset by the black and red Militia uniform he wore, though C’Rash couldn’t quite get the image out of her head that he was dressing up in one of his parent’s clothes.

But C’Rash was surprised by more than just his youth, as he spoke to her. “Lt Shall, is it? How may I help you?”

She recovered quickly. “Forgive me, Lieutenant, I was looking to contact the Records Office of Mlell Academy, not Mlell Militia Base-”

He smiled. “This is the Academy, Lieutenant.”

“It is? I was under the impression that the Academy was a civilian installation?”

“No, though we do get civilian alumni from the neighbouring communities, the majority are trainee officers earning their degrees in Medicine and Engineering while stationed on the base. Now, how may I help you?”

She recovered quickly. “Well, I’m running a background check on a former student there: Jhess Furore. I believe he studied Medicine. Paediatrics, specifically.”

“Sounds easy enough to confirm.” Htish nodded, turning to one side and access his own computer. “Just checking now.”

“Thanks again. What’s the weather like there this time of year?”

He smirked on the screen. “We’re into the Rainy Season now. You can’t get the smell of wet fur out of the air wherever you go-” Then his smile dropped as he read something.

Prompting C’Rash to ask,”What’s up?”

Htish looked back at her now, his demeanour altered. “Could you hold for a moment please, Lieutenant?” Then the screen went on Stand By before C’Rash could respond.

After almost a minute of still being on Stand By, she picked up a barbell from the floor beneath her desk and began idly curling it with her left arm. What’s up with you, Lt Htish?

Her office door slid open, and she almost cursed the interruption, until she saw it was- “Uncle Esek.”

Hrelle walked in, pulling his tail forward to let the door slide shut as he watched the barbell rise and fall. “Well, this isn’t the worst thing I’ve caught you doing in here.”

“Says the man with the snack box under his desk.”

“Listen, about my asking you to look into Furore yesterday-”

She set down the barbell. “Hey, I have been! I’m on it right now! It takes time, and we have to rely on civilians to-”

He raised a hand to cut her off. “Claws in! I’m not criticising you, Niece of Mine, I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to do it anymo-” But then he paused and asked, “What have you learned so far?”

She lifted up a PADD from her desk. “I’ve gone through news reports, travel and residency histories, listed references on the Caitian Education Board. Everything from birth to age 18, and from age 23 to now, is well documented and substantiated. I’m currently on hold with a Records Officer at Mlell Academy.” She looked up at him. “Did you know it’s a Militia Academy?”

He blinked. “The Militia? But Furore said he wasn’t in the Militia.”

She nodded. “Apparently they do have a small civilian alumni-”

Then she sat up as the Stand By on her screen disappeared, replaced by the image of a chocolate-furred female greying along her snout, uniformed with command officer’s bars. “You’re Lt Shall, of the Surefoot?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Hrelle remain at the side of her desk, motioning for her to continue. “Yes, Colonel. May I ask your name-”

“You may ask, but you won’t get it. You’ve contacted us about a certain individual, and I want to know why.”

C’Rash leaned forward, momentarily stunned by the unexpected response from the unexpected individual. “I’m conducting a background check on Jhess Furore, a civilian worker newly arrived on our starship, to verify facts regarding his-”

“Consider it verified.”

“Excuse me, Ma’am?”

”I said consider it verified. Whatever is on the record is true. Just leave him alone and let him do his job.”

C’Rash frowned, nonplussed. “Uh, thank you, Colonel, but is there anyone there I can speak to who might have known him at the time-”

“Listen, Lieutenant,” the Colonel cut in, emphasising the rank, “Be a smart little cub, take the hint, and drop the harassment, because you do not want to get on my bad side. I was leading the Sabrecats on Azure Aura while lazy Starfleet Shirkers like you spent your time counting stars-”

Now Hrelle stepped forward, leaning in to be seen on the cameras of the desk viewscreen. “Excuse me, Colonel, I’m Captain Hrelle. That’s my Chief of Security you’re disrespecting... and threatening. I don’t appreciate either.”

The female on the screen reacted. “Captain Hrelle? If I’d known you were present, I-”

“You... what? You wouldn’t have been wasting our time talking out of your ass?”

“Excuse me, Captain, but I don’t appreciate-”

“Save it; I eat mewling old cats like you for lunch. Now, how does a seemingly ordinary security check on a former student warrant intervention and intimidation from someone of your rank?”

The Colonel looked ready to argue with him further… but then seemed to shake off her hostility of seconds before, as she referred to something off-screen. “Captain, we appear to have had a misunderstanding. You are asking about a Jhess Furore, yes? Well, I can confirm that he was one of the civilian students here, that he studied Medicine, specialising in Paediatrics here, from 2359 to 2364. I can confirm that he graduated in the top ten percent of his class. Instructors have left comments praising his skills, his dedication and his friendliness. There is nothing else of note on his record.”

Hrelle grunted. “Well… thank you for that, Colonel. I apologise for any raised hackles. Surefoot out.” He ended the transmission, turned and leaned against the desk, arms crossed.

C’Rash leaned back in her chair. “Wow. If she had done a sharper U-turn, she would have snapped her tail.” She looked up at him, noting his expression. “What?”

“Colonel Sourpuss mentioned the Sabrecats. They’re Caitian Special Forces: proficient in armed and unarmed combat, demolitions, covert ops and reconnaissance, counter-terrorism, direct action, hostage rescue. I remember reading about some of their off-world operations in the last Ferasan War.” He grunted. “If she was leading them at Azure Aura, then I have to give her credit. They saw some vicious action in the colonies-” He looked at C’Rash, who was working on her computer. “What?”

She nodded at what she read. “Sourpuss’ real name is Colonel Srular, C.O., Forty-Seventh Squadron… HQ’ed at Mlell Base.”

“And of course Jhess just happened to be studying at Mlell at the same time period as the last War.”

“You think Jhess was in the Militia?”

“It would match what your instincts told you about muscle memory.”

“But why would he hide it? Why would the Colonel and the Militia hide it?”

Hrelle frowned in thought. “Sabrecats have a badass reputation, well earned… but have also had many reported problems after the War: PTSD, substance abuse, criminal activity, anger management, suicide-”

C’Rash rose to her feet, her tail twitching. “You think Jhess might have problems that he’s hiding? That the Militia might be covering up?” But then she calmed down. “No.”

“No?”

“No. Ma’Sala would have had him vetted before letting him near her grandcubs.” Her expression changed. “And it’s not like she doesn’t have the resources to check anyone out. We both know what she does over and above her duties as Fleet Captain… even if it isn’t officially acknowledged.”

He grunted. He had been impressed enough with Ma’Sala Shall when he only saw her as a Fleet Captain of the Caitian Planetary Navy. But then he discovered she was also the head of an unofficial Shadow organisation known as the Mother’s Claws, dedicated to protecting their people by any means necessary.

And his niece made sense; even if the Militia was protecting Jhess – or their own reputation – by hiding his service record, Ma’Sala would surely know… unless… “Unless she slipped up this time. She’s not omniscient, and things have happened to us that have come as a complete surprise. Jhess could be an unstable veteran… or even someone working for another organisation out to spy on us, like the Orion Syndicate, or Section 31, or-”

“Or… maybe Spotty is exactly who he seems to be: a pain in the ass who happens to be very good with cubs, and that the business with Colonel Srular was just what she said, a misunderstanding.”

T’Varik’s voice cut in between them before he could respond. “Captain, we have rendezvoused with the Azimech, and are prepared to commence beaming over the patients directly to Sickbay Three.”

“Proceed.”

“Sir, I thought perhaps you wished to be here-”

“I’m busy, Commander, proceed!”

“Aye, Sir. Bridge out.”

Hrelle ground his teeth. “Computer: where is Doctor Furore?”

“Jhess is in the Arboretum.”

Hrelle frowned at C’Rash, who smirked. “I guess even the computer’s on a first-name basis with him. I know he’s been using it a lot to familiarise himself with the layout, the schedules, and booking educational time on the Holodeck, the instructional equipment for the cadets-”

He started. “He’s had access to our computers all this time… Special Forces are also taught Cyber Ops… run an audit check of his computer activities since coming onboard.”

She frowned again. “Aren’t you getting a little paranoid, Uncle Esek?”

“Just do it. And try to reach Ma’Sala, get a Priority Message out to her. I’m going to get some answers from Furore once and for all.”

She sat up. “Uh… you’re gonna play nice, right?”

He never replied.

*

Deck 4 Aft, Sickbay 3:

Masterson treble-checked the isolation seals on the main door were activated, before turning back to the staff he picked for the task: Chief Nurse Scarlo, Nurses Eydiir and Jiko Showri, and, at the insistence of Lt Shall, Security Crewman Gorman. “Right, so the medical data the docs on the Azimech sent us was inconclusive-”

“Inconclusive?” Eydiir glared challengingly. “Have they not the equipment or expertise to offer something conclusive?”

Masterson smiled; the girl could get into a fight with her shadow if she had half a mind to... “The medical facilities and crew on ships of this class are more used to dealing with injuries and basic sicknesses than exotic strains like Larosian Fever.

That’s why we’ll be running our own scans to confirm, but if it is LF, the main thing to remember is that fatalities occur not from the disease, but the symptoms: fever spikes that damage enzymes in critical biochemical pathways, causing convulsions and deaths. We’ll be on watch to keep the patient’s temperatures down, keep them hydrated. Some might have portable Life Support Units on, they’ll need transferring to our own-”

The intercom chirped. “Doctor Masterson, the Azimech is ready to beam the patients onboard.”

“Gotchya, Neheru. Tell them to get going.” He looked to Gorman. “Just stay in the background, Brian, these folk will be too sick to do anything but throw up.” Then he nodded to the nurses. “Stand by.”

Seconds later, transporter columns appeared over each of the line of biobeds, and readings immediately began appearing over each of the new arrivals.

The medical staff went to work, Masterson giving the group a once-over: four humans, a Bolian, two Bajorans and a Nausicaan, just as the preliminary data detailed, some with portable life support units harnessed to their torsos. But even as he approached the nearest biobed, one containing a tall, scarred, pale-skinned blonde human female, he frowned at the readings. “Wait- there’s a temperature in this one, but no viral signatures-”

The woman sat up, along with the others, drawing a small energy weapon from the sleeve of her grey jumpsuit, pointing it under Masterson’s chin. She was sweating, but very alert as she ordered, “Don’t move, Doctor.” Her eyes staying fixed on him, she swung out her legs, rose to her feet, swallowed and nodded to the others, as they drew weapons and held the rest of Masterson’s staff at weaponpoint as well, or uncoupled the life support units they wore.

There was a noise, and Masterson turned, ignoring the weapon stuck under his chin, to see Gorman sprawled to the floor, curled up and gasping in pain, as the large Nausicaan stood over him.

“Duujar,” the woman beside Masterson chided. “Minimal violence, please. Remove his phaser and combadge and move him into that Isochamber.”

“Who are ya?” Masterson demanded of the woman. “And what the Sam Hill is going on?”

She eyed him again. “Captain Corinne Chase, formerly of Starfleet, now… on the side of the Angels. And what’s going on, Doctor, is a hijack.” She prodded the weapon into his throat. “And you’ve just used up your ration of questions for the day. Don’t get greedy.”

*

The familiar scent of the plants in the Arboretum hit his nostrils as Hrelle entered… while also picking up the musk of the new arrival. He was alone here, sitting in a lotus position on a patch of Caitian blue gramagrass, wearing a baggy vest and shorts and a smile. He never opened his eyes as Hrelle entered and approached, but obviously recognised who it was. “Esek! Come to join me?”

Hrelle stopped in front of him. “No, I… I couldn’t get myself into that position.”

Jhess grinned, eyes still closed. “I bet you could. I bet you’re full of surprises.”

You, too… “I spoke with Colonel Srular at Mlell.” He scrutinised Furore intensely, looking for a response.

But the younger male just sat there, pausing before asking, “Friend of yours, Esek? I should warn you, if you visit Mlell this time of year, bring a rain poncho-”

“Enough of this shit,” Hrelle snapped. “What are you hiding?”

Now Furore opened his eyes, and looked up at Hrelle with concern. “Hiding? Not much in this outfit-”

“Stop with the jokes!” Hrelle growled now, baring his teeth. “I let you into my home, let you care for my cubs! I trusted you!”

Furore kept his eyes on Hrelle, as he uncoiled himself from his meditative position and slowly rose to a standing position. “Esek, you’re clearly upset, and that’s understandable with a new cub in the home. Let’s go have some spiced tea and we can talk-”

Hrelle had been watching, had been waiting, sure that he could see the trained solider, the trained killer, beneath the easy-going, jocular gonzo.

And he knew how to bring him to the surface.

He swung out, claws bared, fully expecting the Sabrecat’s fighting instincts to immediately block the move.

Except that nothing like that happened.

Instead, Hrelle’s claws connected with Furore’s snout, sending the young male sprawling and bleeding to the gramagrass at their feet.

*

Chase reached up and removed Masterson’s combadge, tossing it into the corner of the room; others did the same with the rest of the captives, as the Maquis leader ordered, “Sheppard, Dargi, get the transporter and scanner inhibitors set up, and hurry. Wicks, check the quarantine seal on the door. Kojald, start work on accessing their systems.”

Masterson watched the woman’s flushed, sweating face. “You don’t have Larosian Fever- but you’re still reading as such- you have the temperature and sweats-”

She grunted. “Cyberimplants deliver false readings to any medical scanning equipment nearby; a dose of procainazine is inducing the false symptoms. Very effective, though I hate sweating. Speaking of which: Chen, whip up some chloromydride for us to counteract, before we pass out from dehydration.”

”Whatever you’re up to, Captain,” Masterson warned. “You won’t get away with it.”

Chase nodded, not appearing intimidated by the warning. “In that case, Doctor, you and your staff have nothing to lose by just cooperating and entering the Isochamber, and wait for us to not get away with whatever we’re up to.” She motioned towards the unit at the far end of the Sickbay, prompting him to join the rest of his team moving to it-

Until Eydiir spun in place and struck out, knocking a human and Bajoran Maquis down, and reaching for a weapon from the third – until the hulking Nausicaan shot her with a blue-white beam from his own weapon, striking her in the stomach and making her cry out and twist into a fetal ball as she fell.

“Eydiir!” Masterson rushed up to her, catching the Capellan girl and easing her to the floor. He looked up murderously at the Nausicaan-

But it was Chase who stepped forward. “What did you do that for?”

The Nausicaan’s face fangs clicked with amusement. “She was a fool.”

“Was she? She got you to discharge your weapon!”

*

On the Bridge, an alert on her Security board made C’Rash report, “We have weapons fire in Sickbay Three!”

T’Varik rose to her feet. “Red Alert! Captain to the Bridge! Doctor Masterson, respond!” The Red Alert klaxon filled the air, but there was no reply. “Sickbay Three, respond!” She looked to C’Rash. “Security Team to Sickbay Three!”

The Caitian nodded. “The Quarantine force fields are still in place. Should I override?”

“Negative, not until we ascertain the situation. Have your team secure the corridor.”

*

Hrelle stood over the younger male, feeling as shocked as Furore looked, as he clutched his bleeding snout. “Wha- WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?”

Hrelle gasped, sheathing his claws and stepping back, sickened by the horror he saw on Furore’s expression, a horror brought about by his own action. “I- You didn’t- you didn’t try to stop me-”

“H-How was I supposed to know that you were going to hit me?” Furore exclaimed, eyes filled with… fear. Fear for Hrelle.

He got it wrong. He got it all wrong. He had worked himself up into this notion that the other male was hiding something. But he wasn’t. He was just a decent, caring male, one whom his cubs, his wife, all adored. “I’m- I’m sorry, Jhess, I didn’t- I thought that you- you were- here, let me help you up-”

He reached for him. Furore drew back.

Just as the Red Alert klaxon sounded, and T’Varik’s voice filled the air. “Captain Hrelle to the Bridge!”

Hrelle cursed – of all the times to be called away! – looking back at Furore, hands raised and open. “I’m sorry, Jhess, I have to go, but I’ll explain everything! I promise!”

The other male didn’t answer, but Hrelle couldn’t stay any longer, not knowing what was going on to warrant a Red Alert.

Seconds later, he entered the Bridge, as T’Varik turned to him. “Weapons fire detected in Sickbay Three, no response as yet from anyone within. The Quarantine fields are still up on the door, we have a Security team on standby in the corridor.”

“Internal scans?”

“The internal scanners in Sickbay Three are offline now,” C’Rash reported.

“Do we have an idea of the nature of the weapons fire detected?”

“Yes: neuroleptic-based.”

Hrelle nodded, both vexed and glad for the distraction of his appalling mistake in the Arboretum. “So, not from Ensign Gorman’s phaser, then. Contact the Azimech, get a report from them – somehow someone over there must have allowed one of our so-called patients to bring at one weapon over here, maybe more. Evacuate the immediate area around Sickbay Three, lock down the corridors and Jefferies tubes.” He sat down, took a breath, and opened a channel. “Maquis: this is Captain Esek Hrelle. I wish to speak to your leader.”

After a moment, a woman responded. “Captain Hrelle, this is Captain Corrine Chase.”

Hrelle motioned for T’Varik beside him to look up the name, as he replied, “Captain Chase, are any of your people or mine hurt? Does anyone require medical assistance?”

“Your security guard is gonna wake up with a headache, and a rather tough little nurse has been shot in the stomach with a Miradorn stunbeam, but we’re allowing your Doctor to treat them both.”

“Thank you. I’m sure we can resolve this situation without anyone else being hurt on either side.”

“Very laudable, Captain Hrelle. I have no desire to see unnecessary pain inflicted on anyone.”

“Good. Let me speak with Doctor Masterson.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you need to understand who’s in charge here.”

Hrelle tensed… and then retorted, “Then there’s no point in continuing this.” He closed the channel, turning to T’Varik. “Who is she?”

The Vulcan looked at him. “Captain, was that prudent? She has already demonstrated a willingness to harm their hostages-”

“This is just the start of negotiations, not the end. Now, get me what you can on her, before she calls back.”

She nodded, and he looked ahead, trusting his instincts.

At least, until he remembered just how wrong he had been with Jhess, mere moments before.

*

Kami poked her head into Jhess’ quarters through the door from the cubs’ room. “Jhess, sorry to bother you, but as you heard, it’s a Red Alert, I have to report to my duty station-”

From his bathroom, Jhess called back cheerfully, “Understood, Sweetie, you go do your job, I’ll do mine! Be right in to check on Misha and My Lady!”

“Thanks, Jhess!”

From his place on the Hrelles’ couch, Misha, colouring on a PADD, chuckled. “Jhess called you ‘Sweetie’! He loves you!”

Kami checked on Sreen, asleep in her crib, before rushing past her son, advising, “Be a good cub for Jhess.”

“I will!”

Before going out the door, she stopped, picked up a pillow from the corner of the couch, declaring, “He doesn’t love me!” and threw the pillow at Misha, who dodged, laughing.

As soon as the door closed, the toddler rushed into Jhess’ quarters, and into his bathroom. “Jhessie! We play Purr-Prowl-Pounce-” Then he stopped and stared, frowning. “What happened? Who scratched you? I fight them! You see!”

Jhess was standing by the mirror, passing the tip of an autosuture over the scratches on his snout. “Calm down, Misha; not everything is as it appears to be. I scratched myself accidentally when I was napping and had a nightmare.”

“Oh. Why you no go to Sickbay? Doc Cowboy fix you up!”

Jhess examined his reflection, ensuring all traces of Hrelle’s assault on him were gone. “It sounds like they might be busy with other things right now.”

Misha growled to himself. “I no like nightmares.”

Jhess put away his autosuture and looked to him. “Do you have many nightmares?”

Misha nodded, his expression cooling. “Monsters come for me. Snake monsters. Wanna hurt me and Mama and Papa and Sasha. No like monsters.”

“Me neither.” Then Jhess slipped on a smile and looked down at the cub. “Let’s play a game: Who Has the Stinkiest Diaper? Who do you think might win that?”

“Sreen!” Misha laughed. “She Stinky Cub!”

Jhess laughed too and led him out.

*

T’Varik nodded to the image of the human woman she conjured onto the screen before her. “Captain Corrine Chase, Terran, age 48, former commander of the scout ship USS Ning Hai, received commendations for successful reconnaissance missions on the Federation-Cardassian border. In 2370 she disabled the transponder on her vessel and guided it into the DMZ, placing those crewmembers unwilling to desert into escape pods, and has since been reported leading raids on Starfleet and Cardassian vessels. Reports indicate an effort on her part to avoid casualties.”

He nodded. He was hoping that his initial instincts about Chase had been correct. “Ask my wife to come up here, if she can; we might need her psychological advice.”

From Ops, Neheru reported, “Message from the Azimech, Captain: the transporter officer who beamed over the patients has been arrested, and confessed to being one of the Maquis, but has wiped the transporter records, and refuses to say anything about what Captain Chase has planned or what weapons or equipment might have been beamed onboard with them.”

“Thank them, but warn them to stay on Security Alert in case there are more waiting to cause trouble.” As he was hailed from Sickbay Three, he looked to T’Varik as he acknowledged, “Captain Chase?”

A different voice responded. “Masterson here, Sir. They’re letting me confirm that we’re all alive, Gorman has a concussion but we’re patching him up now. Eydiir got roughed up some, but she’ll recover, too, with some-”

The rest of his statement was cut off, as Chase took over again. “There you go, Captain, you’ve marked your territory, I’ve established our bona fides, now we can move onto the business at hand.”

“Fair enough, Captain. What do you want?”

“Your ship.”

He paused, glancing behind him to see Kami enter and approach C’Rash for an update, before he focused on the situation at hand. “You wouldn’t like my ship, Captain; it has a great big red pawprint on the dorsal side. Very garish. How about a runabout instead? Something nice and sporty?”

“No thanks, Captain. Your ship is far better armed than any runabout. We’re going to need its phasers and torpedoes, not to mention its enhanced shields, speed and manoeuvrability.”

“I see. And what do you intend to do with it?”

“Sorry, Captain, I’d rather not offer any spoilers.”

He nodded. “I understand, Captain. I’ll need some time to discuss the proceedings for handing over the ship with my senior officers.”

“You mean try to work out a strategy for getting in here and rescuing the hostages?”

“Of course.”

“You have five minutes. Chase out.”

Hrelle rose and faced his officers. “Mr Neheru, inform Admiral Tattok about the situation, I want automated updates sent every five minutes. Lt Shall, I want time-delay commands hidden in the computer, to shut down everything but life support in one hour, in case things go wrong for us; they’re not taking our ship back to the DMZ.”

T’Varik frowned. “You believe that is their goal, Sir? It would be more logical to assume that they want a means of escape from incarceration.”

“No,” Kami interjected, looking up from a transcription of the Bridge logs and communications of the last ten minutes. “This is about vengeance. For the last three years or more, the Maquis and their fight has been their lives. Then, in the space of three days, their lives have been turned upside-down. They’ve been driven from their worlds, seen family and friends killed. In the subsequent weeks, while onboard the Azimech, they have had to process their loss. The urge to return and continue the fight is now exigent with them.”

“But it’d be futile!” C’Rash exclaimed. “One Sabre-class starship against the Dominion and Cardassian ships in the DMZ? They’d just end up dying in something slightly more powerful than the refitted scouts and runabouts they were using before!”

Kami crossed her arms. “At this stage, that’s not the worst case scenario for them. Surviving is. Knowing that the fight is lost, that family and friends will go unavenged, and that they may spend the next few years in prison… these scenarios are unacceptable.” She looked to her husband. “You need to give them something more than that, if you want to get them to surrender.”

“Are the hostages in danger?”

Kami frowned. “Before the massacre in the DMZ, I’d have said No. Now… there will always be a risk.”

“Captain,” C’Rash spoke up. “I was running another sweep of the systems while preparing the Shutdown protocols- they must have already established a link into our systems before we were alerted to them!”

*

In Sickbay Three, one of Chase’s people looked up from the console she sat at. “I have access to the primary systems via their Auxiliary Control! Rerouting control of their Engineering and Diagnostics to this station!”

“Good work, Sheppard.”

Nearby, the Nausicaan was pacing impatiently. “We need their weapons systems!”

Chase glanced at him. “Later. We need to clear the ship first.”

“Open the airlocks on them!”

Chase glowered at him. “No one is getting killed or hurt in this operation.”

Masterson, inside the Isochamber with the other hostages, stood by the intercom, listening. “Y’all could have fooled me.”

Chase turned and approached, her expression taut. “Save your sanctimony, Doctor. The Federation loves being a Nanny State, regulating the lives of its citizens… until it becomes inconvenient, and then people are abandoned to fend for themselves.”

“No one was abandoned! Efforts were made to clear the DMZ and find new homes-”

“They didn’t want new homes! They wanted the homes they already had! The homes they worked hard for, for years! And you should better appreciate our efforts to minimise injury. Our mission would be much more successful if we were as ruthless as our enemies.”

“Your mission? You have no mission! You and the others deserted, became criminals, terrorists! You raided ships, bases, colonies, threatened lives- and in the end, what was it all for? Your ‘mission’ is over, it’s dead-”

She slammed her fist against the clear Isochamber panel, her face reddening. “NO! Not dead! Not while one of us is alive! And if Starfleet had had the balls to support us from the start, instead of hiding behind rules and regulations that have no place on the frontier, then we wouldn’t be where we are now, forced into taking this action!”

Masterson stared back. “From what I see, Ma’am, I reckon no one can force you to do anything. So don’t be scurrying under that particular rock.”

She regarded him, regaining her composure quickly. “Just sit tight in there, Doctor, and don’t interrupt us again.” She activated the intercom. “Chase to Hrelle: your time is up. Have you come up with something to stop us?”

“I think so, Captain: a deal.”

She smirked. “A deal, huh? Go on, let’s hear it.”

“A wartime pardon, for you and your people, from Admiral Tattok of the Thirteenth Fleet, for your past and present crimes. If you have others still onboard the Azimech, they can be pardoned, too.”

“Oh? Just like that, all is forgiven, clean slate and all that?”

“Needs must, Captain. We’re going to need all the experienced people we can get out here. There’ll be a short period of retraining, and then you and your people can be distributed to key positions on ships in the Fleet.”

“I think I’d rather keep my crew together, and have a ship of our own.”

“I’m sure you would, but let’s be realistic. Think about it: it’ll be your chance to take the fight back to the Dominion, and not have to worry about watching out for Starfleet bringing the hammer down on you. We can agree that the real fight is out there, not with each other.” He paused and added, “It’s a genuine offer, no tricks, a Win-Win Scenario. What do you say?”

Chase frowned to herself, glanced at her colleagues and replied, “Stand by, let me talk to my people. Chase out.” She closed the frequency, then looked to the Bolian at the station. “Commence the Auto Destruct sequence.”

Inside the Isochamber, Masterson’s heart skipped a beat. “NO! DON’T! TAKE THE OFFER!”

Chase looked over at him. “There’s no offer, Doctor, it’s a delaying tactic to give your Captain time to override our defences here and retake Sickbay. Exactly what I would do.”

“You don’t know that! You don’t have to kill anyone!”

“No,” she agreed. “I don’t. Yaxx: begin Auto-Destruct.”

Above them, a new siren filled the air, and the computer’s voice calmly announced, “Auto Destruct has initiated. Five Minutes to Auto Destruct. Evacuate the vessel via the nearest escape pods.”

Masterson pounded his fist on the panel. “NO!”

But Chase ignored him, reaching for the companel as if expecting a response. And getting it. “Chase! What in the Seven Hells are you doing?”

“Giving you and your crew five minutes to evacuate so we can take over peacefully.”

“You can’t do this!”

“Stop deluding yourself, Captain; it’s being done now, and you’re wasting time.”

“I’m not leaving my ship to you!”

“Captain, we’ve taken control of your internal sensor grid. If there’s one person detected still onboard when the Countdown reaches fifteen seconds… then I’ll let it continue to the end.”

There were noises on the other end of the channel, before Hrelle demanded, “What about your hostages?”

“Once the rest of the ship has been evacuated and we take full control, we’ll beam them over to the Azimech, who can also collect you and your crew, and we’ll be on our way. Everyone survives, we get the ship we want. That’s a Win-Win Scenario.”

Hrelle’s growl travelled over the intercom. “We’re not done, Captain. I promise you that.”

“You have four minutes, Captain. I will destroy this ship and us if anyone outside of Sickbay Three is still onboard. I promise you that.”

She closed the channel, and looked up at the ceiling, Masterson seeing her mentally count to herself before Hrelle’s voice replaced the computer’s. “All Hands, Abandon Ship! Repeat, All Hands Abandon Ship! This is not a drill!”

Some of Chase’s crew cheered, but she waved off their celebrations, looking back at the Bolian. “Well, Yaxx?”

The blue-hued crewman studied his controls, before grinning. “I have escape pod launches commencing on Decks 5, 4, 1- now 3 and 2. Lifesign numbers onboard decreasing… 50… 42… 38-”

Chase nodded and turned to the others. “Wicks, Dargi, once the ship has been cleared, go to Engineering, lock everything down, make sure they’ve not left any surprises. Sheppard, do the same with the Armoury, run a diagnostic on Weapons.”

The Nausicaan stepped forward. “I should do that!”

“No, Duujar – you’ll be sweeping the rest of the ship with Kojald and Simmonds, make sure no one’s hiding onboard.”

“Auto Destruct in two minutes,” the computer updated.

“And if they call your bluff?” one of the Bajorans asked.

Chase smiled. “Then I’ll win out over Captain Hrelle in another way.”

“Bluff?” Masterson echoed.

Chase looked back at him and winked. “False sensor readings, Doctor. I guess we’re not as villainous as you might think.”

“I have more escape pod launches,” Yaxx reported. “Fourteen left on board… Eight… four left, located on the Bridge-”

“Of course,” Chase nodded. “The Captain wanting to be the last one off his ship.”

“Like you wouldn’t do the same, Corinne,” one of the humans commented, grinning.

“Auto Destruct in one minute,” the computer offered.

“Is the Captain and his crew still on the Bridge?” Chase asked.

Yaxx checked. “Yes.” He looked up with alarm. “He’s not going, is he?”

“He will,” Chase assured him. “He won’t risk calling my bluff.”

“Thirty seconds,” the computer continued. “Twenty Nine… Twenty Eight… Twenty Seven-”

“They’re moving!” Yaxx cried out. “The escape pod nearest the Bridge has launched! The ship has been cleared!”

Her people cheered, though Chase herself appeared more satisfied than celebratory. Masterson watched the scene. “I hope y’all are proud of yourselves.”

Chase turned back to him, drawing close once more. “As a matter of fact, Doctor: yes, I am. We can get what we need, and not hurt any of you.”

He glanced over at Gorman and Eydiir, who were still recovering from their injuries. “Tell your Nausicaan friend that.”

Chase glanced over at her huge comrade. “Duujar was never in Starfleet. His family had a farm on Soltok IV, until the Cardassians firebombed them while he was offworld obtaining supplies. We give him a chance to strike back… and curb his more ruthless instincts. At least, until we face the Cardassians and the Dominion again.”

He shook his head sadly. “Y’all will be killed. It’s pointless! Stay with us, Captain. Please. We need you, your leadership, your experience, your ingenuity and tenacity. We need all of you. We’re stronger with you than without you.”

She kept regarding him.

And when she finally replied, it was while she was wearing a frighteningly resolute expression on her face as she whispered back, “We’ve faced the Jem’Hadar already, Doctor. We know what’s coming. And we know it’ll make no difference if we’re with you or not.

They’re gonna kill all of us.”

Masterson just stared back, stunned.

Chase walked away. “Right, let’s get- wait!” She paused, glancing around, before turning back to Yaxx. “Access Life Support: check on onboard O2 consumption beyond this area.”

As the Bolian complied, one of the humans asked, “What’s up, Corrine? Let’s get going before they turn back!”

She shook her head. “Just checking.”

But Yaxx looked up, smiling. “Consumption’s dropped to nothing. Internal temperature has lowered, too, indicative of a lack of warm-blooded bodies out there!”

She smiled. “Lower the Quarantine field on the door.” She looked back at the Isochamber. “We’ll transport you all to the Azimech presently. Just stay where you are.”

Masterson crossed her arms. “You should have been a stand-up comic, Captain.”

The door slid open, and Chase and the others, weapons in hand, moved out…

*

...And got as far as the nearest junction before C’Rash, leading her Security team, called out from around a corner, “DROP YOUR WEAPONS!”

The Maquis hugged the walls and fired in the direction of the Security team. C’Rash crouched, firing from below and dodging backwards to avoid the returning fire, smacked her combadge. “Shall to Bridge! They’re out of Sickbay Three! Beam the hostages out!”

“Unable to comply, Lieutenant,” T’Varik responded. “Their transporter inhibitors are still in place-”

“Then lock up Sickbay Three! I don’t want them going back in!”

“Acknowledged.”

C’Rash gripped her phaser more tightly, raising her hand to cease firing on their side as she called out, “Captain Chase! It’s over! Give up now!”

She listened, heard muttering from the Maquis, weapons being adjusted- a whine- her hackles rose as she twisted around. “BACK! NOW! Computer! Raise force field, Corridor 4-7-”

She looked back just enough to see the Starfleet phaser tumble to a halt in the centre of the junction, its overload cycle almost at-

The force field absorbed the explosion as much as it could, but feedback travelled into the adjacent areas, and her ears rang as she dropped to the floor and covered her head.

She looked back at the junction, seeing the crimson curtain of energy flickering to absorb and redirect the explosion, the corridors beyond having gone dark. “Bridge! Lock down the adjacent sections, get me a fix on the Maquis!” She checked her squad mates, confirmed no injuries. “Thykrill, Ree-Tan, you secure Sickbay Three and free the hostages! Travers, Adams, follow me! Bridge, I need a location!”

“Not possible, Lieutenant; local sensors have been disrupted by the explosion-”

“Acknowledged! On my mark, drop the force field on 4-7!” She checked her phaser, ensured the others did the same. “Bridge! Now!”

She watched the wall of energy give off a brief flash as it shut down, and she led the group around the corner, her hearing giving her confidence that the Maquis had fled they investigate vicinity-

She’d been partially right. Captain Chase was sprawled on the floor, next to a Bolian male, both of them sporting phaser burns from the explosion. She checked their necks before reporting in. “We have two Maquis down, including Captain Chase, injured in the explosion!”

“We’ll send medical assistance-”

“Belay that! Stay on Lockdown and maintain General Quarters until we locate and detain the rest of the Maquis!” She sniffed the air, her nose confirming what her eyes saw. “Bridge, the rest of the Maquis have fled through the Jefferies Tubes! We’re in pursuit, but they could be heading up or down!”

*

Deck 2 Fore – Officers’ Quarters Section:

Duujar emerged first from the hatch, disruptor in hand, shaggy hair flailing about as he glanced down either end of the curved corridor they found themselves in.

Sheppard followed closely behind, sweating profusely. “I- I don’t get it- we saw them evacuate-”

The Nausicaan grunted. “We saw false data fed to us, human! Hrelle used Chase’s own tricks against us, and used them better than she did! Now stop snivelling and find us an escape pod!” He strode up to a door, and when it didn’t open, he fired his disruptor on the side controls and strode in with the others.

Jhess was kneeling on the floor, with Sreen on a mat and Misha beside her, the adult and the toddler looking up at the six intruders. Jhess rose to his feet immediately, stepping between the intruders and the cubs. “Who are you? What do you want here?”

Dargi looked at the civilians. “Come on, Duujar, let’s go-”

“Wait!” The Nausicaan pointed at the cubs with his disruptor. “Who are they? Your offspring?”

Jhess held up his arms, slowly approaching them, his voice remaining calm. “They’re just cubs, children, there’s no need to harm or frighten them, just go, there’s nothing here for any of you.”

“He’s right, Duujar,” Sheppard agreed. “We have to go before they track us here-”

“No,” Duujar snarled. “We’ll take them!”

Misha rose to his feet, claws and teeth bared. “You no hurt my sister! My Papa’s Captain, he fix you-”

“Misha!” Jhess snapped, never taking his eyes off of the Nausicaan or the others. “Take Sreen into your room and close the door!”

“The Captain’s offspring,” Duujar growled, his facial fangs clicking with thought. “They won’t dare stop us with them as hostages!”

“No,” Jhess announced resolutely. “You’re not taking them. Take me instead.”

“That’s no trade.” Duujar raised his disruptor to Jhess’ face as he barked, “Kojald! Wicks! Grab the little furry fuc-”

Jhess dodged away from the tip of the disruptor and struck the Nausicaan’s arm upwards, making him shoot towards the ceiling, before Jhess drove his foot into Duujar’s left kneecap, dislocating it. Duujar shrieked and fell to the side towards the couch.

Jhess moved with astonishing speed towards the others, grabbing Sheppard by the forearm and shoving the human into another, even while delivering a jackhammer kick into the face of a Bajoran, looking back at the cubs. “MISHA! GET SREEN OUT! NOW!”

Another human tried to aim and fire his weapon, but Jhess caught him by the arm, twisting it and making him fire at one of his comrades, glancing back to see Misha, carefully holding onto his sister as he scurried out into his room, the door sliding shut.

Good cub…

Now Jhess bared his teeth and let his Beast loose…

*

On the Bridge, T’Varik looked up from the Security display. “I have an intruder location- this deck, outside of Officers’ Quarters-”

“Sreen- Misha-” Kami gasped.

“Weapons fire detected!” the Vulcan snapped.

Hrelle was already up and headed to the doors, phaser in hand and Kami at his side, barking over his shoulder. “Get C’Rash up there!” For a brief second, he contemplated ordering his wife to remain behind, before accepting the futility of such an action, their feet pounding on the corridor as they rounded the curve-

The doors to Jhess’ quarters opened, and several Maquis poured out, scrambling and tumbling over each other in panic as Jhess was upon them -- Mother’s Cubs, he moved at Warp Speed! -- claws raking their backs and necks and faces. Hrelle raised his phaser and fired, stunning two of the Maquis but unable to hit the others without risking bringing down Jhess as well and leaving him vulnerable.

He handed his phaser to Kami and charged in- just as a huge, hulking figure, a Nausicaan, stumbled out, leg injured in some fashion but still mobile, and armed, raising his disruptor towards Jhess-

Hrelle slammed into the Nausicaan, even as he caught from the corner of his eye Kami stunning the remaining Maquis, before entering Jhess’ quarters. Jhess joined Hrelle, leaping onto the Nausicaan, Hrelle delivering disabling blows to nerve clusters, Jhess resorting to more visceral methods, his claws and fangs rending flesh. Hrelle disarmed their opponent, and the figure finally dropped to the floor.

But Jhess was still on him, still attacking. Hrelle reached out. “Jhess! Stop! It’s over-”

Jhess, crouching over the Nausicaan, glared up, breath triphammering from his lungs, teeth and claws still bared, eyes red, growling up at Hrelle in challenge.

And Hrelle saw something... very familiar behind those eyes. Something ready to attack him now. And being almost half Hrelle’s age and in prime condition, he could easily defeat the older male.

So Hrelle held up his hands and softened his voice. “It’s over, Jhess. You can put him away now.”

Jhess didn’t seem to respond-

-Until the sound of Sreen crying filled the air.

Hrelle looked up, to see Kami near the doorway, holding their infant daughter in her arms, and Misha at her side. For a second, he almost stepped in between Jhess and his family, wondering what insanity drove her to bring their cubs and herself into danger like this-

But already he saw that Jhess’ Beast was retreating, and he was rising weakly to a standing position again, teeth and claws sheathed once more. The danger had passed.

At least, for now.

C’Rash and her team arrived, surveying the situation, the human crewman Travers, a petite, pale-skinned human asking, “Who the hell did this?”

“Their nanny,” C’Rash replied blankly.

“Their nanny did this?” Travers shook her head. “Looks like he fed them a Spoonful of Whoop Ass…”

*

“Captain’s Log, Supplemental: the hostages in Sickbay Three have been released, and those injured have made a full recovery. Captain Chase and the rest of the Maquis who attempted to take my ship have been treated as well – thankfully there were no fatalities among them – and returned to the Azimech, confined, while the vessel continues on its way to Jaros II.

As to the matter of our nanny, my wife and I are arranging to have words with the woman responsible for hiring him in the first place, to get some answers that we should have received from the start.”

*

Ma’Sala’s holographic image glanced between her daughter and kin-son, clearly not accustomed to the reception she was receiving from both of them. “Firstly, let me assure you that I have seen Lt Furore’s unredacted records, both military and medical. He was never any danger to you, or to the cubs, or to any crewmember or cadet.”

“But you knew,” Kami accused, her tail twitching with agitation. “You knew more about him than you told us.”

“Yes, Daughter. Reluctantly, but… yes.”

“He was with Colonel Srular’s Sabrecats?” Hrelle asked. “The 47th Squadron?”

The Matriarch nodded. “He served as a medic during the last Ferasan War, on an extended campaign on Azure Aura.”

“Is he even a paediatrician?” Kami demanded. “Has he any real credentials?”

“Of course he is! He earned his degree, and his qualifications! He has been caring for cubs for almost a decade! The male you see is genuine!”

“His military record has been redacted,” Hrelle pointed out. “Why? What terrible act did he commit during the War to warrant a conspiracy of silence from him, his former commander… and from you?”

Ma’Sala shot him a look. “His ‘terrible act’ was to do nothing more than serve with distinction. To save many lives, not just as a medic, but as a warrior. To spawn a Beast that committed bloodthirsty acts to save his comrades… and more recently to save innocent cubs.

Sound familiar, Kin-Son?”

Hrelle bristled.

“The Militia doctors helped Jhess deal with his Beast,” Kami conjectured, “Or rather, to help him bury it.” She shook her head critically. “Embedment Therapy is so old-fashioned. Typical Militia thinking.”

“But it seemed to have worked,” Hrelle admitted, recalling how well Jhess maintained control even when Hrelle struck him. “At least until the Maquis forced his hand and brought it back to the surface.” Now he focused on Ma’Sala again. “But if he’s such a hero, and has done nothing wrong and is no danger to us, why hide it? It’s something he should be proud of.”

The Matriarch crossed her arms. “Both of you have spent more of your lives away from Cait than on it. You were far away in Starfleet during the last War, living and working among people serving just like you, supporting each other.

But there’s a large percentage of the civilian population here who have never left the Motherworld, have never faced a Ferasan or any other enemy and believe they would never draw claw against another, and that indeed no one should ever have to. Who don’t understand or appreciate the threats our people face, or the actions required by those in uniform to defend them and their right to maintain their pacific ideals. They’ve seen or read lurid media accounts of Militia actions offworld, or heard rumours, and react with fear and hostility towards those males and females who are risking, even losing their lives, in their defence.

Veterans who have returned from the War have had to deal with not only the physical, mental and emotional injuries they suffered, but also with ignorance. The ignorance of people who see them as... broken things, damaged goods, or as potential killers who could be unleashed in their midst without provocation, and shouldn’t be around ordinary Caitians. Especially cubs.

“And such treatment will hardly help their rehabilitation,” Kami noted.

“And in Lt Furore’s case, he has lost out on prestigious positions, contracts… and his family.”

Hrelle frowned. “His family?”

She nodded gravely. “He had a wife and cub of his own… a son, I believe. After he returned, she divorced him, refuses to let him near his own cub. Apparently she won’t have a killer as an influence in her cub’s life.”

“That’s… horrible!” Kami exclaimed with outrage. “He’s the kindest, most loving male you could imagine! Didn’t he try to fight for access, for custody?”

“I asked him about it… he refuses to put his son through such emotional turmoil, especially if it became public. But it’s obvious, when he talks about it… he’s anguished by the situation.”

Hrelle shook his head in disbelief. Divorces were rare occurrences on Cait on their own; to have a father kept from his own cub for no good reason… “You helped erase the military records for him.”

“Adjust the records,” Ma’Sala corrected. “At the request of their former commanding officer, to give Furore and others a fresh start without questions or harassment from employers, families, friends...” The Matriarch looked between them again. “When I met him, spoke with him about taking on his current role, I tried to assure him that secrecy wasn’t necessary with you, but he- he’s been hurt too often.

I took no pleasure in withholding information from you both about him, but I understood why he asked for confidentiality, and I wouldn’t have done if it I hadn’t met him personally, spoke to him, looked him in the eyes… and trusted him with you, and my grandcubs.” She focused on Hrelle. “The way I did for you, Kin-Son, when you still had your Beast inside you.

Jhess Furore deserves better than what he’s received.

They all do.”

Kami looked to her husband. “Well?”

Hrelle looked back. He had been appalled to hear of the prejudices of Caitian civilians against veterans like Jhess… until he acknowledged his own fears and doubts about him, and he certainly knew better than most about the things one can spawn within themselves to deal with the violence, the threats that can arise.

Kami and he could help him; Ma’Sala knew that. Just as she knew that if it became necessary -- as it had -- he could help them, by using his skills to protect their cubs. Their Matriarch was no idiot.

And the cubs loved him, their instincts still primal, far more acute than adults’. They knew who they could fear… and who they could trust.

He looked to Kami. “What do you think?”

She rested a hand on his chest. “I’ll support whatever decision you make, Husband of Mine. You’re the Boss in this relationship.”

He grunted. “In other words, you’ve already figured out what my decision is, you agree with it, and you’re only saying that now to bolster my fragile male ego. Right?”

She batted her eyelashes at him. “What, little old me?”

Ma’Sala chuckled. “That’s my daughter…”

*

“Jhess, are we-”

The Hrelles had entered his quarters from the corridor, to see the younger male kneeling on the floor, packing one of his bags, before rising and facing them. His expression had been uncharacteristically melancholy since the incident with the Maquis, and his voice cracked a little as he approached them tentatively. “I haven’t been near your cubs, T’Varik and C’Rash will confirm, they’re taking care of them in your quarters while I pack-”

“What are you talking about, Jhess?” Kami asked him, smiling.

He frowned. “When… when is the Swift coming for me?”

Hrelle and Kami exchanged glances, Hrelle unable to keep a slight smile from his face as he asked, “Are you going somewhere, Mister?”

“You’d better not be,” Kami warned, smirking. “You’re still under contract with us.”

Jhess looked thoroughly confused now. “B-But you- you saw what I did-”

“Yes, we did,” Hrelle agreed, drawing closer to him, “You risked your life, facing armed, superior numbers to protect our cubs. You unleashed something you’d have preferred to keep buried in you forever. Something you’ve been afraid of for a long time.”

“We can help you with it,” Kami promised. “I’ve helped Esek with his own Beast. And the two of you can support each other.”

As the realisation of their acceptance filled him, he looked ready to cry. “You- You don’t want me to go?”

“Go? We adore you, Jhess. The cubs adore you. We are so lucky to have you as part of our family now.” She hugged him.

Jhess hugged back fiercely. “Thank you. Thank you both.” He drew back, looking to Hrelle. “I’m sorry I’ve kept the truth from you both.”

Hrelle nodded. “Well, I’m sorry I struck you. Come here, Brother.” They hugged now.

Beside them, Kami bristled. “Wait, you did what?”

“Shush,” Hrelle chided her gently over his shoulder. “Tender male bonding moment here.”

But as they parted, Kami refused to let it lie, getting into her husband’s face. “You struck our nanny?”

He swallowed. “Yes, ah, I was trying to get him to reveal his combat training. It was a psychological ploy.”

“From what book? The Idiot’s Guide to Everything? Maybe I should smack you upside the head and see if I can get a few brain cells working?”

Jhess brought a shushing finger to his snout, whispering, “Wait, I think we have a spy...” He grinned and snuck up to the closed door to the cub’s room, sliding it open quickly and scooping up the young cub who was on the other side, listening in on the adults’ conversation. Misha squealed as Jhess carried him back to his father, tossing him into Hrelle’s arms while the older male proceeding to tickle his son and make him squeal even more.

Until Kami turned to Misha and asked him, “So, you’re not afraid of Jhess after seeing him fight those Maquis?”

The cub’s eyes saucered. “No! It was awesome! Jhessie’s gonna teach me to fight!”

The adults looked to their nanny, who appeared shocked. “I never said that, young cub!” He moved over and picked up his frettercast. “But I will teach you a new song.”

Hrelle fixed a smile on his face. “Yay. Another song.”

“Yes, Esek,” Jhess continued, sticking a tongue out at him. “An old sailor’s ballad called The Hills of Tau’Maree.”

Hrelle’s eyes widened too. “I grew up in a fishing village. I know that song. It’s… really dirty.”

Misha guffawed at the notion. But the nanny just tightened a string on his frettercast. “I know, I know. I’ve cleaned it up for sensitive ears.” Then he began playing:

“It's a darn tough life full of toil and strife

We ship crews undergo.

And you don't give a darn when the day is done

How hard the winds did blow.

For we're homeward bound to the Clanland ground

With a good ship, taut and free

And we don't give a darn when we drink our fill

In the hills of Tau'Maree.

Heading down to Tau'Maree, me lads

Rolling down to Tau'Maree

We're homeward bound to the Clanland ground

Heading down to Tau'Maree!”

Kami and Misha applauded. Even Hrelle couldn’t stop smiling at it.

At the doorway, T’Varik and C’Rash appeared, the latter cradling Sreen and asking, “So, I take it from the musical number and the annoying cheerfulness that Spot’s staying?”

Jhess looked to her, offering a familiar grin. “Only if you think you can manage to keep my former lover from trying to win me back. She’s flirted with me a gazillion times since I arrived.”

“There is no such number as a gazillion,” T’Varik informed him.

“Yes, there is.”

“There is not.”

“Of course there is! It’s a 1… with a gazillion zeroes after it.”

The Vulcan folded her hands behind her. “It is precisely this behaviour on your part which ruined our relationship.”

The Caitians turned to her.

“What?” she enquired.

THE ADVENTURES OF THE SUREFOOT WILL CONTINUE IN... IMMATERIAL GIRL