Tooth and Claw

USS Ajax, Deck 2 Mid – Science Lab:

Lt Sasha Hrelle looked up from her hand, eyes narrowing across the table at her opponents and grimacing. “Hmmm… I think I have bupkis here.”

Lt Jim Madison’s broad dimpled chin lifted as he raised the ante into the pot. “And I think I’ll have to upgrade the onboard Universal Translator for all your Yiddish words.”

She looked over at her lover. “Understanding Yiddish is easy: 99% of it is about complaining: about the Universe, the weather, your family, your health… or a crappy hand of cards.”

On her right, the Tellarite helmsman Ensign Grel clacked his hooves. “A language of mostly complaints? Sign me up.” He added his own chips, as did the Tactical Officer Ensign Bump, and Nurse Okeke, a Wakandan woman with deep brass eyes and a booming laugh.

Sasha stared at the second round of bets, looking thoroughly defeated as she turned to Shanek. “Well, Ensign? Care to add the final nail in the coffin of your Second Officer?”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow… and lowered his hand, face down. “I fold.”

Sasha offered him a smile, turned to the rest of the table… and then dropped her smile as she raised again, triggering another round of bets before she finally announced, “Call.”

They laid their cards down. And Sasha’s Three Queens beat them all.

She chuckled as she drew in the pot. “Much obliged, dear suckers, much obliged.” She glanced at Shanek again. “How did you know to drop out?”

“I recognised your attempt to Doublecock me.”

All eyes turned to him.

“Excuse me?” Sasha asked, grinning.

“A term developed in early 19th Century poker strategy,” Shanek explained, deadpan. “A tactic employed by a player to seize control of the pot, by offering false tells and double bluffs suggesting a weak hand, in order to lull opponents into raising, before the player re-raises, trapping other players who would otherwise have folded if the player had first raised.”

“How can a Vulcan be so good at poker?” Grel groused, his snout wrinkling. “I thought your people were incapable of lying.”

“That is a fallacy,” Shanek informed him, rearranging his chips. “Though we strive to be honest at all times. However, within the context of the game, where deception is a necessary and accepted tool, it is not considered ethically wrong.”

“I never took our Second Officer to be a Doublecocker,” Okeke quipped, lifting up her tumbler of Spican flame whiskey and bringing it to her full lips.

Grel grunted with amusement. “How about it, Jim? Does Sasha Doublecock you when you’re alone with her?”

Madison smiled. “I never kiss and tell.”

“As your roommate,” Shanek pointed out, reaching for his own glass. “I must disagree.”

Sasha was moving to the Lab’s replicator, now reconfigured by Madison to produce drinks and snacks instead of base chemicals and scientific instruments, but now stopped and looked back at the table. “Oh really, Shanek? And when he leaves me, does he come home to you giving you all the gory details?”

“Careful how you answer that, Buddy,” Madison warned with mock portent, shaking a finger at him. “Remember, I know where you live.”

The Vulcan imbibed sparingly. “Admittedly, he does not elaborate, and is never uncomplimentary towards you, Lieutenant Hrelle… except for a general complaint about the number of bites you leave on him.”

Grel and Okeke laughed, their laughter doubling as the more naive Bump whispered to them, “Why would Lieutenant Hrelle bite him? Do they fight a lot?”

Sasha chuckled, knowing her relationship with Jim was the talk of the Ajax… and much more comfortable about it than when it all started months ago. She leaned into the replicator. “A plate of fried shuris pieces.”

Moans rose from the players at the table, Grel punctuating with, “No more, Lieutenant! Please!”

“What are you talking about? You never had any of the first plate!”

“None of us did,” Okeke elaborated. “Because shuris is awful. Looks awful, smells awful, tastes awful.”

“As a vegetarian,” Shanek commented. “I have never indulged in any meat products. But if I did… I still would not eat shuris.”

Sasha offered them all her middle finger. “Fine, I’ll have to finish this myself.”

“You don’t have to, you know,” Madison pointed out delicately, rising to his feet, finishing his shot of whiskey and walking around, stretching his muscles. “You didn’t have to have that first plate, for that matter. I mean, on top of that full dinner you had tonight-”

“What are you trying to tell me, Cuddles?” she challenged, glaring at him, albeit playfully.

He turned away, seemingly casually. “Nothing, nothing at all… it’s just, well, I can’t help but notice you’re, ah, putting on a little weight.”

Okeke breathed in. “Stand by for Red Alert.”

Sasha ignored her. “Oh, am I?”

Madison never made any attempt to look her way, as if distracted by a wall panel. “Not that it shows on you, of course, but… well, it gets more noticeable when you’re on top-”

She raced across the lab and leapt onto his back, wrapping her legs around his muscular thighs and her arms around his wide shoulders, roaring and biting him on the neck as he spun around in mock panic at her attack.

“I think I’d rather deal with the Caitian eating habits than the mating ones,” Grel teased, grasping the table to keep it from being knocked over from the antics of the couple.

Just then the door slid open, and Lt Cmdr Kit Kohanim entered, the Zakdorn First Officer taking in the scene with a visible display of outrage. “What is the meaning of this?”

The junior officers bolted to attention, while Sasha hopped off of Madison’s back and followed suit, albeit with a stance that was slightly less than full attention. “Lieutenant Commander, how may we assist you?”

Kohanim glowered at her, the folds on either side of his round oatmeal-coloured face always making him look like he was melting from his own internal chagrin at her antics. “You may assist me, Lieutenant, by explaining what you and these junior officers are doing in the Science Lab, engaged in unauthorised activities!”

“Unauthorised, Sir? What do you mean?”

He bristled, moving to the table and lifting up a tumbler and a set of discarded playing cards, as if his protest genuinely needed explanation. “These! Or are you going to try and pass all this off as some scientific experiment being conducted?”

“Yes, Sir,” she responded deadpan. “We’re studying Probability Mechanics.”

“Really? And what about you riding on the back of Lt Madison and biting him?”

She paused. “Science makes me hungry?”

Bump almost snickered at that, but thankfully for him managed to stifle it when Kohanim glanced at him.

Then the First Officer returned to the primary object of his ire. “The rest of you, return to your quarters. Lieutenant Hrelle, follow me.”

Sasha didn’t have to ask where they were going. This wasn’t the first clash she’d had with her immediate superior since boarding the Ajax.

*

Captain Weynik sat behind his desk in his Ready Room, the diminutive Roylan’s black eyestalks looking a little tired to Sasha – or more likely, a little weary at having to settle another dispute between his senior officers – as Sasha adopted a formal stance this time, and Kohanim continued his tirade. “It’s disgraceful, Captain! They were playing poker in the Science Lab!”

Weynik looked to Sasha. “Really? Why wasn’t I invited?”

She broke her pose to respond to him. “My Dad advised me not to play with you, Sir. Something about you being a ‘devious little nubbin at cards’.”

Weynik chuckled. “I’d be offended at the description if it wasn’t true.”

“Captain,” Kohanim cut in. “With respect, Lt Hrelle is meant to be a senior officer on board! She should not be consorting with junior officers!”

“Mr Kohanim, our crew numbers a mere forty, and you and I are the only other senior officers. I can’t blame her for preferring to hang out with people her own age, instead of two old farts like us.”

“Oh? And should the definition of ‘hanging out’ include Public Displays of Affection with Lt Madison?”

Weynik looked to Sasha. “What sort of displays?”

She flushed. “Nothing really, Sir. It was just a bit of fun!”

“It was unseemly!” Kohanim declared.

She looked to him now, her face darkening further. “Maybe you should try it yourself? It might loosen that stick up your ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lieutenant,” Weynik cut in sharply. “As much as I respect your abilities, and the friendship I hold with your father and your family, I won’t tolerate gross disrespect from you towards superior officers. Lt Cmdr Kohanim’s duty, among many others, is to help shape you into being the best officer you can be. He doesn’t deserve a response like what you just offered him, and if he wishes to place a note on your permanent record for it, I will support him. Is that clear?”

Sasha bristled, but she visibly forced the anger from her. “Yes, Sir, you’re absolutely right.” She turned to the Zakdorn, her expression and voice filled with genuine contrition. “I sincerely apologise to you, Lieutenant Commander, and I swear to you that it won’t be repeated. But if you still wish to add that note to my record, I won’t contest it.”

Kohanim harrumphed… but then his own expression softened. “This is a learning process, Lieutenant, and I’m prepared to overlook it this time. And for the record: apart from your… off-duty activities, and general overly casual attitude when dealing with junior officers, I have nothing but praise for the extent of your cross-field expertise, as well as the efficiency you put into your system and quartermaster reports, work schedules, communication updates and staff meeting notes.”

“In other words,” Weynik quipped. “We’re glad to have a Second Officer onboard to handle all the drudge administrative work that CO’s and XO’s hate to do. As for tonight’s activities: in future keep them confined to the Rec Room, and the PDA to your private quarters.” The Roylan lifted up a PADD from his desk and passed it to his First Officer. “We have a mission ahead of us: proceed to the Bridge, and take us to these coordinates at Warp 8.”

Kohanim glanced at it. “And what will we do when we get there, Sir?”

“We’ll stop. Dismissed.”

The bemused Zakdorn paused, as if ready to question the unusual orders further, before nodding again and departing.

Then Weynik relaxed his stance and focused on Sasha. “At ease, Lieutenant. Have a seat.”

Sasha relaxed as well, taking the nearest chair, and letting Weynik meet her gaze on a more even level as he asked, “Sash… are you okay?”

He saw the slight, subtle change in her expression, heard it in her voice, as she forced a smile to her face. “Me? I’m fine, thanks, Sir.”

“You don’t seem fine. At times, you seem to be on a knife edge, fluctuating between what Kohanim described as ‘overly casual’, and being ready to snap people’s heads off. And it’s been that way since the incident with the Klingons boarding the Ajax. I know you spoke with Kami following that, but if you feel you could benefit from further Counseling sessions, with her or someone else, or even another visit to your family on the Surefoot-”

“No, thank you, Sir. I’m needed here.”

“You’re not needed here to tear a new one out of Kohanim – who, for his faults, is just doing his job.”

He sighed. “I remember when you and I first met on the Starsong, during the incident with the cloaked Cardassians. You were equally impudent to my previous First Officer, Ibanez. But, perhaps foolishly in retrospect, I encouraged that, since you were just a cadet and not under my command and… well, I wanted to annoy that jerk.

But this is different. You’re not a cadet anymore, you’re third in command of a starship, at a very dangerous time for Starfleet and the Federation. If we’ve pushed you too far, too fast-”

She bolted to her feet. “No!” More calmly now, she continued. “I mean, No, Sir. I- I just want to… make everyone proud of me. Live up to the potential everyone seems to see in me.” She smiled. “You understand, I’m sure.”

He smiled back. “As a former wunderkind, yes, I do. Now, we won’t need you until we arrive at our destination in four hours’ time, so go back to your quarters and sleep. That means no poker, no drinking, and no Bumper Calls with Lt Madison.”

“Sir, if you tell me what the mission is, I can get started with the prep work-”

“Your prep work is to sleep. That’s an order.”

Her smile dropped, as quickly as she had fitted it on. “Captain-”

“Sasha…” he interrupted, his tone sharpening. “Learn to just respond with, ‘Aye, Sir’, and go.”

She bit her lip, and finally nodded. “Aye, Sir.”

He leaned back in his chair, smiling and indicating the door.

She smiled again, nodded and departed, only letting her smile drop as he strode down the narrow corridors of the Defiant-class starship to her quarters, which she had to herself, one of the perks of being a senior officer.

As the door slid shut and she locked it, she felt the anger build up inside her. She paced her surroundings like a cat in a cage, her hands balled so tightly into fists that they ached. She looked around at the decorations on the walls, trying to centre herself, not let the encounter with Kohanim and Weynik and the loss of control she exhibited in front of them overwhelm her.

Her decor should help: the miniature pennant denoting the colours and symbols of the Shall Clan; the tiny clippings of amburwood that she somehow kept from dying, producing a pleasing scent reminiscent of the hills around the Clanlands; the drawings her little brother Misha did for her, of their Dad and Kami and C’Rash and T’Varik and herself, all together, all happy, focus on that, focus on that, focus-

No. She reached for her Pummels - compact, fist-loaded weapons that fittedover her upper fingers like ancient brass knuckles, a present from Grandma, their duratanium frames able to deliver neuroleptic shocks or just increase the impact of her punches - and slipped into them, moving to the heavy punching bag suspended in a corner of her quarters.

And she began punching. Hard. Fast. Past the point of it hurting. Again. Again! AGAIN!

“GODDAMMIT!” she screamed.

Finally, she collapsed to the floor, gasping, her throat raw, the pain too much now, but still welcome. Anything to take her away from everything else she was feeling.

Numbly she was aware of the damage in her fingers, and with difficulty slipped the Pummels off, and then reached under her bunk and drew out the medical kit she sequestered there for such occasions, opening it and beginning the familiar routine to repair the damage before she had to return to duty. She certainly wasn’t going to Sickbay to have it taken care of, and have reports filed. Seven Hells, no. They’d definitely take her off duty for extended Counseling, or some such nonsense. She didn’t need help.

She was taking care of herself just fine.

*

Deck 1, Bridge:

“Dropping out of warp,” Sasha reported, frowning. “Vessel dead ahead, Sir, stationary. Scanning for ID-”

“Belay that,” Weynik ordered from his central chair. “No transmissions either. Helm, Full Stop. Any other vessels detected in the area?”

“None, Sir.”

He rose to his feet. “Mr Kohanim, order Condition Level Four: all off-duty personnel confined to their quarters until further notice. You have the Bridge; I’ll be in Engineering.”

“Engineering, Sir? May one ask why?”

Weynik glanced at him. “We’ve been assigned to field test an experimental modification to our warp drive. For security reasons, the equipment and the engineer in charge of it is being beamed directly onto our Engineering Deck, and I have to be there to oversee the installation… and to put a muzzle on Chief Maryk. When I’m ready, I’ll call you both down. Is that understood?”

“Of course, Sir.”

Weynik left the Bridge.

Sasha frowned with curiosity, examining her board, relying on passive scans of the vessel- Weynik never said anything about just looking at them, after all- “What the-”

Kohanim looked up and approached. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

Sasha looked back at him, almost instinctively becoming defensive… but then accepting how unfair that response was, recognising how much she had contributed to the bad history built between them over the months. She nodded to the viewscreen, displaying a sleek, blue-green, crescent-shaped vessel. “That’s a Caitian military vessel, Sir.”

Kohanim looked up as well. “It is? Are you sure?”

“Yes, Sir: a Shikaris Escort, their equivalent of our own Defiant-class, one of the principal ships in the Caitian Planetary Navy. No mistaking it.”

He continued to stare up at it, but asked in a low voice, “Our esteemed Captain didn’t offer any further hints regarding our mission after I left, did he?”

“None, Sir.”

The Zakdorn harrumphed, and in a very low, confidential tone noted, “He does like being enigmatic, doesn’t he?”

Sasha couldn’t help but grin – and note herself that this was the most informal, casual conversation the two of them had ever had. “Annoying, isn’t he?”

He offered a slight smirk. “Protocol forbids me from going that far… but if it did, I would agree with you.”

Two minutes later, the expected transporter signal was detected.

And ten minutes after that, Weynik summoned his senior officers to join him.

*

Space was always at a premium in every part of the ship, but Main Engineering was one of the exceptions – except when their Chief Engineer, a petite, freckled, redheaded Russian named Helga Maryk, was in one of her moods. As she appeared to be now, just as she appeared to be the only member of the crew present, except for Weynik, and now Sasha and Kohanim.

But Sasha was quickly distracted from Maryk’s mood by the stranger in their midst: a middle-aged, sepia-furred Caitian male in the red and black uniform of the Caitian Planetary Navy. He was currently crouching over an unfamiliar piece of equipment now connected to the Ajax’s warp field manifold array, his twitching tail a sign of his concentration.

But now the figure rose as Weynik greeted the new arrivals. “Ahh, just in time! Lt Cmdr Kohanim, Lt Hrelle, this is Major Tan Ctuuri, of the Caitian Planetary Navy’s Corps of Engineers.”

The male stepped forward and politely shook Kohanim’s and Sasha’s hand – but as they made contact, Sasha couldn’t help but notice, not just his scent, but his quickening tail. She was still human despite her overwhelming interest in Caitians and Caitian culture, so she couldn’t claim to have senses as keen as theirs. But she could swear that this male had an interest, even an attraction, to her.

But she filed her thoughts away as Weynik continued to speak. “Major Ctuuri has completed installation of an experimental catalytic converter.”

“A… ‘catalytic converter’, Captain?” Kohanim echoed.

The Roylan Captain nodded. “It’s designed to efficiently minimise damage to local space with the use of extended high warp speeds, without the additional modifications required by variable warp geometry protocols.”

Behind them, Maryk made another cursing sound and stormed out of view.

Weynik ignored her and motioned for the door. “Now, let’s talk further in my Ready Room.” But over his shoulder, he called back, “Remember our talk, Chief: no touching the new equipment, no scanning the new equipment, no talking about the new equipment.”

“Past’ zabej, padla jebanaja!”

“Thank you, Chief. I’m sure that whatever you just said, it will translate into something non-courtmartiable.”

As they proceeded back out the door, Sasha took one last look at the addition to Engineering.

Catalytic converter, her fat toches.

*

They weren’t long in the Ready Room when Kohanim broke the tension. “Captain, I might not be the brightest star in the constellation, but even I can grasp that there’s more going on here than just our testing some converter – assuming such a thing is even real.”

Weynik leaned against his desk and folded his arms. “Really? If it’s not a converter, what do you think it might be?”

“A Prowl,” Sasha replied first, elaborating as all eyes turned to her. “A Caitian cloaking device.”

Ctuuri reacted most profoundly to her answer, mostly by making an effort not to react, leaving Kohanim to ask, “The Caitians possess illegal cloaking devices? In violation of the Treaty of Algeron?” He stared at the only representative of the group present for an answer.

The sepia-furred Caitian male continued to regard Sasha with deep, handsome bronze eyes. “I couldn’t possibly comment on something like that one way or the other, Lieutenant Commander.”

Kohanim looked to Weynik now with mild exasperation. “Captain, with respect, we’re all supposed to be adults here, professionals!”

“Hmm...” Weynik now looked to Ctuuri. “Major? My crew work better with at least a minimum of information.”

Ctuuri regarded the group, before finally shrugging. “Lt Hrelle is correct. The Caitian Planetary Navy has been secretly employing cloaking devices called Prowls for many years. They’re not as broadly effective as Romulan versions, but they’ve sufficed when dealing with the vessels of our ancestral enemy.”

“Ferasans,” Sasha almost spat, sounding more angry than her attempts at professionalism would have preferred, but not caring. She’d had little knowledge of Ferasans until a couple of years ago, having learned that they were an Augmented version of Caitians, who had dominated their birthworld over a millennium ago and forced the Caitians to make an exodus and find another planet to call home.

Since then, the Ferasans had ventured out to raid other worlds in the Quadrant, but mostly to try and finish what they’d started with the Caitians, believing them to be weak, inferior, easy prey. They were wrong, but the cost in lives over the last few centuries on both sides had been considerable.

Sasha’s own personal encounter with Ferasans led to threats of rape and torture against Kami and her, and Sasha ending up with a broken arm. She’d be happy to spend the rest of her life without ever meeting one again.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Weynik confirmed. “And the Prowl has been secretly installed onboard the Ajax because Starfleet Intelligence reports that a Ferasan Prideship, the Black Talon, named after the Pride who own it, is planning to meet with Dominion representatives in the Stella Tenebris system, for preliminary negotiations.”

“Negotiations?” Kohanim echoed. “Towards what?”

“It will either be a mutual non-aggression pact,” Ctuuri responded soberly, “As has been the case between the Dominion and non-aligned powers such as the Gorn and the Miradorn… or it may be a prelude to an actual alliance, such as with the Cardassians.”

That gave Sasha pause. She’d already read the reports about the terrible successes of the Dominion-backed Cardassians in the Dematerialised Zone against the Maquis, and didn’t want to think about something equivalent for the Ferasans. She smacked her hands together in anticipation and grinned. “So, we’re going there to blow them to the Seven Hells? Great. When do we start?”

Weynik responding with, “We’re going there, Lieutenant, on an intelligence-gathering mission, utilising the Prowl to stay invisible while using our new coherent neutrino beam to eavesdrop on their discussions. We have orders not to engage with either party.”

Sasha’s face tightened. “Permission to speak freely, Sir?”

“Denied; I’m fully aware of both your personal feelings regarding the Ferasans, and of your ability to take the permission to speak freely and wreak havoc on all and sundry. As it happens, I have been informed that revealing our presence could endanger those Starfleet Intelligence and Caitian Security Service field operatives who alerted us to this meeting in the first place.”

Weynik looked to Kohanim. “Lieutenant Commander, return to the Bridge and take us to Stella Tenebris, Warp Nine; we should reach there in approximately five days. Lieutenant, escort Major Ctuuri to the Bridge, familiarise him with our systems and ensure he can interface the Prowl controls from one of our auxiliary stations, and then secure him guest quarters. Major, I would prefer you kept your interaction with the rest of my crew to a minimum.”

The Caitian male nodded. “Of course, Captain.”

“And do I need to mention that the details of this mission are not to be discussed outside of the four of us? No? Good. Dismissed.” He looked up at a still-unmoving Sasha, adding, “That means all of you.”

*

Sasha spent most of the rest of the watch on the Bridge, working closely with Ctuuri, familiarising him with the displays and protocols on a Starfleet vessel, her own experience with Caitian operating systems allowing her to show him a few tricks.

But also to remain increasingly aware of his interest in her, how he kept glancing at her, his pointed ears twitching, how the tail would brush up against the backs of her legs when they were leaning in closely.

Not that he wasn’t handsome, for an older male, and he had a strong, pleasing musk, at least as far as her limited human senses could perceive. But given she was seeing Jim currently, and given the trouble she’d gotten into already lately, she didn’t want to tempt fate and get mixed up in a casual affair with a visitor to the ship. And the whole business with this mission was distraction enough; the thought of just sneaking around the enemies of her people without taking them on was-

“Lieutenant?” he was prompting.

She looked to him again. “Major?”

The male leaned in, his voice dropping to a confidential whisper. “I just wanted to say that your attitude towards the Ferasans-”

She blushed with embarrassment. “I know, I know, I’m a Starfleet officer, I’m not supposed to be bloodthirsty or wish destruction on others-”

“Well, I can’t speak for what your duties as a Starfleet officer require of you,” he interrupted gently, “I was about to say that your attitude towards the Ferasans certainly marks you as the granddaughter of Fleet Captain Ma’Sala Shall.”

She blinked. “You know my grandmother?”

“Only by reputation, at least until a few few days before leaving Cait on this mission, when I had the honour to meet her, and your grandfathers. Ma’Sala reminds you to always keep a weapon close to hand. Bneea advises that you don’t overdo the shuris snacks and get a fat rear end like your other grandfather Mi’Tree, who hopes that you are rutting frequently with many fit young partners.”

She tried not to blush, failed, and then smirked. “Are all Caitian grandparents like them?”

He smiled. “Pretty much.”

“Lieutenant?”

She looked over at Kohanim. “Sir?”

The Zakdorn was in the Captain’s chair, but had swivelled around to face her. “Your watch is over; your duties will resume at 1100 Hours tomorrow, when we reach Stella Tenebris. In the meantime, escort Major Ctuuri to his quarters.”

*

She brought him to the outside of his quarters, glad to be putting some space between them, when Ctuuri turned and asked, “Lieutenant, would you please come in here with me? I need to speak with you about a private matter.”

She blinked, feeling more than a little uncomfortable at having to express aloud her status. “Major, for the record: you’re an attractive male, but I’m unavailable.”

He stared at her “Excuse me?”

Sasha had hoped he would have taken the hint, but instead held up her hands towards him. “Human females might not be as perceptive as our Caitian counterparts, but I’m getting the obvious signs from you. This is just to let you know, before it goes too far, that you’re-”

“Married.”

She blinked. “Sorry?”

“Married,” he repeated, sounding amused. “Happily. With a son almost your age.”

She blinked again. “Oh.”

He drew back, grinning now. “You sound disappointed.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, no! It’s just- I, ah...” She paused, silently willing for an emergency beam-out, or a spatio-temporal anomaly to swallow her up. When neither was forthcoming – thanks a lot, Universe, you unreliable bitch – she asked, “This conversation never happened. Can we agree on that?”

“What conversation?” He stepped closer to the door, triggering it to slide open. As they entered, Sasha noting with approval that his possessions had been safely delivered, he waited for the door to shut before he continued. “To the credit of your senses, Lieutenant, I was interested in getting to know you, and to getting you in here, but the reason for either wasn’t sexual.”

“It wasn’t?”

He glanced at her again, chuckling. “You still sound disappointed; my wife will love hearing about this. No, my interest in you is professional: to assess your character, your traits and abilities.”

“Assess me?” She crossed her arms. “Are you some recruiter for the Planetary Navy?”

He chuckled, moving to one of his bags and removing several framed images of himself with a female and a handsome young male, setting them here and there. “I wear many furs in my life, as we all do. One of them is with a select group of special individuals, led by a very special female-”

She dropped her arms, her expression sobering. “You’re with the Mother’s Claws?” She knew of the unofficial branch of the Caitian Secret Services, headed by Ma’Sala, though no one ever usually spoke of it aloud, let alone confirmed its existence.

He paused and looked back at her. “If I even admitted to knowing what that was, I would say No.” He removed from his bag a long, leather-swaddled object, rose and approached her. “The female I am referring to is Mistress Nvell.”

The name made Sasha gasp. Mistress Nvell? The Head of the Temple of K’Gressir? Sasha knew of her, of course; anyone who studied the martial art knew its most renowned practitioner.

Sasha had studied K’Gressir since she was ten, surprising Caitians with how well she had picked up the art, given her human limitations compared with the strength, speed and flexibility of the race that had created and perfected the art, even when she was allowed to use clawed gauntlets to compensate for her lack of real talons. And she knew that some had questioned whether or not her place on the Roll of K’Gressir Adepts was due more to influence from her kin-grandmother and father, than to any talent on her part… at least, until they saw her in action.

Still, as she accepted the bundle, setting it down on an adjacent table, she remained confused. “What would she be sending me-” She stopped, looking at him, her eyes widening. “No way...”

He smiled.

She unravelled the covering, slowly, her pulse quickening as she peeled back the layers, revealing… a sword and scabbard. The scabbard was of a deep red-black amburwood, reinforced with thin, criss-crossed leather bands that extended to allow it to be strapped to the owner in various ways, the crossguard was thin and concave, the hilt segmented in black with finger guards, and the round pommel was stamped with a red pawprint symbol, an almost identical design as employed in the Interstellar Aid Registry to identify ambulance vessels of felinoid origin, and which currently appeared on the Surefoot.

She grasped the scabbard with one hand, clasped the hilt with the other, and drew out the blade, revealing an incredibly-thin, sixty-two centimetre long slice of satiny grey metal with a pointed tip and long, thin fuller grooves in the upper section towards the crossguard… and her name and clan, in Old Caitian, carved into the blade.

The metal glistened in the light above as she raised the blade up, turning it to show that the blade was so thin it was almost invisible to her eyes. Her voice dropped to a whisper, “Mother’s Cubs… she sent me a… a Kaetini’s Sword. W-Why would she send me this?”

Ctuuri stood close, his voice reverential. “Because… you’re a Kaetini now.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“You’ve earned a place that very few can attain. Not even those who have reached higher Tiers in K’Gressir than you are automatically worthy of it. It takes far more than just proficiency in the martial arts to be a Warrior of the Great Mother.”

He reached out, but didn’t quite touch it, as if afraid it might reach out and cut him first for the effrontery. “So beautiful: forged from the remains of the Arakanium hulls of the ships that carried our ancestors to Cait during the Exodus, an alloy lighter than paper but stronger than tritanium, reinforced to a permanent nanosharpness with technology forgotten by all but those in the K’Gressir Temple at T’Grerish Nein…”

She half-listened, transfixed once more by the weapon given to her. She remembered the bedtime stories Dad used to tell her about the Kaetini, and the adventures they had when Caitians were still taming their new world, in the centuries before the Quadrant had begun to fill with spacefaring races. She had dreamed of becoming one of this band of intrepid warriors. And now, that dream was a reality.

Or was it just a dream? She looked to Ctuuri. “Are you sure you have the right girl?”

He rocked in place, pretending to take the question seriously, before responding, “Are you the human Sasha Hrelle who saved the lives of her class and her teacher at the age of eleven? Who rescued a group of abducted Malurian children bound for slavery? Who died protecting a prominent Caitian civilian from a Vlathi assassin? And who most recently faced a pack of Klingons single-handedly?” He nodded. “Then, yes, I have the right girl.”

She flushed, hating the attention. “That was- those were nothing- I was just doing what I had to do- it’s not heroic or anything-”

He smiled and pointed a finger at her. “You remind me of my son C’Ria. I can’t recall ever seeing that cub without a PADD and pen in hand, writing stories, poems, essays. The words pour from him like scent, and every time I see him crouched somewhere, his tail dancing with deep thought, I know he’s at his happiest. He’s talented, has received praise from teachers and even local publishers.

But still, he doubts himself. Doubts he’s worthy of the commendation. ‘I’m just scribbling’, he’ll tell his mother and me. 

And we tell him, ‘With our gifts, we have the power to move hearts and minds towards the good, towards healing and strength. With our gifts, we have the power to save lives. Don’t dismiss that, or you end up dismissing those lives we touch with those gifts.’ With C’Ria, his gifts are the words he can sew together to inspire, to comfort and illuminate.

With you, your gifts are your courage, your strength and valour. And the lives you have saved were literal.” He returned to his bag, bringing back a black holodisc he set on the table beside the sword. “But if you don’t believe me, maybe someone else can convince you...”

He activated the disc and stepped back, as a metre-high hologram appeared: a snow-furred Caitian female of advanced age but retaining a strength and vitality in how she bore herself, in how she folded the billowy sleeves of her deep purple robes into each other, and seemed to stare across at Sasha. “Sasha Hrelle of Clan Shall: Twelve years ago, your name appeared on the Register of First Tier Adepts of K’Gressir. Few if any non-Caitians even knew of K’Gressir, so I dismissed you as a temporary oddity, some tailless ape dabbling in an art she was ill-equipped to understand, let alone master, and who would soon disappear into obscurity.

It is pleasing to know that even at my advanced state of decrepitude, I can admit to being wrong.

Over the succeeding years, you became noteworthy. Not just for overcoming the limitations of your form to achieve Tier after Tier, but for your acts of valour among the stars, acts witnessed and corroborated. You have even given your life, on more than one occasion, I am told, and I thank the Great Mother for allowing you to continue to be among the Living.

The Kaetini were formed during the early, arduous times after First Landing: we represented hope, strength, fortitude, loyalty, honour, selflessness… the best of our people. We were symbols, ideals. And though now, in this Age of Federations and Starfleets, we may not have the influence we once had, but we still remain true to those ideals. Ideals you already share and demonstrate in abundance.

We are not a club that one can buy their way into; though you have many important people in your Clan, they did not earn you this place. You did.

Tan Ctuuri, a fellow Kaetini, will instruct you in the coming days, on the responsibility you have just undertaken. Assuming that you have accepted it.” She smiled. “But I suspect that, though you may have doubts as to your worthiness, you will still accept. Welcome, Kaetini Sasha Hrelle of Clan Shall.”

The holoimage disappeared.

Stunned, Sasha looked to Ctuuri. “You’re a Kaetini, too?”

He nodded. “Since I was twenty-five. I… I had an… interesting set of experiences in the last Ferasan War. Others saw me, saw something in me, sponsored me.”

“And they let you be a Kaetini and stay a member of the Navy?”

He smiled. “It’s not a full-time occupation. Kaetini exist in all strata of Caitian life: soldiers, parents, doctors, teachers, artists, butchers, cooks, cleaners, administrators… we are not aristocracy, we get no recompense or reward or reserved parking spaces or even a discount at the local shuris grill, and we rarely advertise who we are.”

Sasha swallowed. This was all so sudden, so unexpected. She looked to him. “Is this mission with the Ferasans even real?”

“It’s sadly very real; it was just a fortunate happenstance that I am Kaetini, and also an expert on the Prowls.” His expression narrowed at her, and he nodded to the scabbard. “Put it on.”

She stared back, her insides churning… this time with an acute excitement. It was hers. She deserved it. She moved the sword to her side, wrapping the straps around her waist and securing them with the bolt attachments, adjusting it, her hand resting on the base of the hilt and the crossguard. It felt… good. 

Damn good.

“Do you know the Oath of the Kaetini?” he asked.

She straightened up, remembering the words from the stories. “‘I am Kaetini: a Warrior of the Great Mother. 

I am Her Eyes, and I am Her Ears. 

I am Her Teeth, and I am Her Claws. 

I am Her Purr, and I am Her Roar. 

I will defend the Living, and I will avenge the Dead. 

And I will give my life to protect the Motherworld and Her people.’”

He beamed. “Well done.” 

She couldn’t help but smile back. “So, ah, is there an Initiation?”

“You just had it.” He dropped to one knee, head bowed, speaking in Old Caitain, “Welcome to our Order, Kaetini Sasha Hrelle.”

The tears flowed unchecked down her face.

She hoped she would be worthy of this.

*

Weynik studied the blade. “Remarkable. It’s a little too large for someone of my size, but I can tell its balance is perfect.” He looked to a wary-looking Kohanim, sitting beside him in the Conference Room. “Would you care to hold it, Lieutenant Commander?”

The Zakdorn blanched. “Um, no thank you. No offence, Lieutenant, but my people have always considered our tactical acumen to be the only weapon we should handle.”

Weynik smiled, holding up the blade to test its balance again. “Roylans have a long history of swordplay, of course – you and I have practised enough onboard to prove that, Lieutenant – but I was unaware of Caitians employing bladed weapons in combat. I assumed they preferred to use their claws and teeth.”

Sasha smiled back and retrieved her sword, sheathing it. “The main combat art of K’Gressir that most Caitians know about does involve utilising claws and teeth, yes, Sir. But it makes sense that they might want a weapon that can bring down an opponent before they can get close enough to use those teeth and claws. Kaetini is the extension of that.” She let her hand rest on the hilt. “Sir, I’d like to contact the Surefoot, let my Dad and family know.”

The Captain sighed. “Unfortunately, the current mission requires us to remain on Silent Running. You understand.”

Sasha couldn’t hide her disappointment; if anyone she knew could appreciate this honour best, it was Dad. “I understand, Sir.”

“Lieutenant,” Kohanim spoke up again. “I appreciate your compliance with Starfleet Regulations in reporting your ownership of this weapon with your Commanding Officer… but I am concerned about this secondary occupation you’ve accepted, and how it might conflict with your current duties and responsibilities.”

Sasha nodded; she wasn’t offended by Kohanim’s suggestion, because it was something she had considered as well from when Ctuuri informed her last night. “It’s not an ‘occupation’ per se, as I understand it, Sir, but more an honorary rank, like the Klingon Dahar Masters, the Terran Knights or the Andorian Ice Warriors. In the case of the Kaetini, it’s awarded to those who have saved Caitian lives, defended the Motherworld, performed bravely, and could be seen as...” Her voice trailed off.

“As what?” Weynik prompted, looking amused.

She flushed, looking at her feet. “Uh, role models, Sir. For the cubs.”

The senior officers glanced at each other.

“I’m still learning about it,” she added hastily. “Tan – Major Ctuuri – is going through the background of the organisation, the things he and others have done or are expected to do. But I’m not planning on quitting Starfleet to run off back to Cait or anything.”

“That’s good to hear, Lieutenant,” Weynik quipped. “I’d hate to have to go back to doing all those boring reports myself.”

“Or more likely getting me to do them,” Kohanim agreed dryly.

“And I promise you, we’ll get you that transmission window to the Surefoot as soon as this mission is over; I’ll bet Wide Load will be so envious he’ll only remember to have two breakfasts. Dismissed.”

“Aye, Sir.” She turned to go.

Weynik waited until she was at his door before adding, “And Sasha?”

She stopped and looked back at him.

He smiled. “I think you’d make a fine role model for the cubs. Now go celebrate in some fashion.”

*

Pleasure shot through Sasha again as she moved on top of Madison, gripping his hands tightly in hers, controlling the pace and rhythm of their lovemaking, the scent of amburwood in her quarters now enhanced with hers and her lover’s musk, as the soft, sultry sounds of one of the Caitian musician Sgreer Lash’s more erotic songs played in the background. She leaned forward, grinning. “Still think I’m putting on weight, Cuddles?”

He grunted, eyes closed, smile as broad as his shoulders. “I don’t recall saying anything that stupid; you were probably talking to some quantum reality counterpart of me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She quickened her pace slightly, while leaning back and looking once more at the sword she had mounted on the wall beside her bunk. She still couldn’t believe it. She was a Kaetini… a Warrior of the Great Mother-

“Hey,” Madison chided beneath her. “I’m starting to think I’m in a threesome with that thing.”

Sasha looked down at him again, releasing her hold on his hands to wipe the sweat from under her breasts. “Sorry, can’t help it. It’s a hell of an honour, you know. It goes all the way back to the First Landing of Caitians on Cait-”

He reached up and gently slapped the thighs straddling him. “Focus, girl, focus. You can talk all the Caitian crap you want afterwards.”

Her smile dropped, and she stopped her grinding motion on top of him. “It’s not crap, Jim.”

Madison opened his eyes. “Sorry.” He grinned, holding her by the hips and moving against her. “Come on, I’m almost there-”

But she stiffened, frowning now. “You think I talk crap?”

“What? No, of course not!” But then he added, “I mean-”

She rose, dismounting from him and standing up. “Music Off.”

He sat up on his elbows, looking at her in the dim light of her quarters. “What’s wrong? What are you doing?”

She reached for her briefs and vest. “So I go on all the time about ‘the Caitian crap’, do I? I’m some yente who can’t shut up about something that’s a part of her?”

“I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Wow, I have no idea how you’ve put up with me all this time-” She looked back at him, waving a hand towards his erection. “Oh yeah, now I know! You can put that away now, it’s definitely not getting any more action from me tonight.”

Madison sat up, swinging his legs over the side and reaching for his boxers. “Sash, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to be insulting-”

She faced him again, hands balled into fists. “You keep telling me what you didn’t mean. Ya wanna tell me what you did mean, then?”

He faced her, looking far more vulnerable and on the defensive than one might expect for a man his size – that he was still in his underwear probably didn’t help – and he was visibly struggling with finding the right thing to say. “Sash… look, I get it. It’s great that you can appreciate your stepfather’s people’s culture and all that. But… don’t you think you take it a bit too far sometimes? You’ll eat their food, you’ll listen to their music, you’ll speak their language and wear their clothes, you’ll not groom-”

“Oh, now you have a problem with my hairy pits and legs, huh? You never said anything before! Well, the truth’s all coming out now-”

“No!” he snapped back. “I’m saying it’s- it’s like you’re trying to- to be something you’re not. Something you’ll never be. You’re human, you have human parents-”

“I had human parents,” she corrected him coldly, reaching for her Caitian silk dressing gown. “I never knew my biological father. My biological mother was taken from me when I was a little girl, and I was raised by two old people who took me in out of an obligation to their dead daughter. I was alone.

And then the man I have always considered my father – and don’t you or anyone else even dare try to argue that with me on that, because you’ll lose – came back into my life. And introduced me to a woman who has become a second mother to me, who brought me a brother and sister, and a whole clan of grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles and more. They gave me unconditional love and acceptance.

And more. They gave me an identity. One I embrace. And if you have a problem with that, you should go, now.”

“Sasha-”

She moved to her door, unlocking it and letting it slide open. “Actually, even if you don’t have a problem with it, you should go, now.”

“Sasha, you’re not being reasonable-”

“Do I have to make it an order, Lieutenant?” she demanded, raising her voice.

Madison stared dumbfoundedly at her. “Can I at least put my trousers before I go out there and run into anyone?”

Sasha waved a hand in his direction. “Hurry up.”

He did so, but not without also offering, “I didn’t set out to insult you, Sasha, or offend you.”

“And you still managed it, well done, now you can go back to your quarters and finish yourself off.”

Half-dressed, Madison picked up his boots and left.

Alone now, she paced, still trying, how futilely, to not lose it. She can’t keep doing that; even with the properties of her hidden medical kit, her hands, her body, needs time to fully heal, and recent repeated uses would show up in any unexpected medical exam. Control, focus, use the meditation mantras Kami taught you, focus, disperse the rage, the feeling-

She roared aloud, lifting up the back of her chair to smash against the nearest wall-

Her door chimed. “GO TO HELL!”

Immediately she snapped back into control, having no idea who was outside. It could be the Captain, or Kohanim- Seven Hells… She set the chair down, breathed in sharply, putting on a calming face and trying to come up with an excuse for her profanity. “Open.”

The door slid aside, and Ctuuri strode in, dressed in casual Caitian civilian clothes, drawing in his tail to let the door slide shut again. “Iray.”

She blinked, confused. In the time since his arrival, and his presentation to her as botha fellow Kaetini and her teacher, he had taught her some of the basics of the warming up exercises for Kaetini and their swords, and now he was using the Old Caitian word for the commencement stance. “Um, Tan, now’s maybe not the best time, I’m not feeling too well-”

He folded his hands behind him, standing formally. “Lies are not necessary, Cub. Now is actually the best time, as you will soon learn. Iray.”

She breathed in, a part of her still feeling angry, deep within… but not wanting to let it control her again. She retrieved her sword from the wall, drew out the blade, and adopted the first exercise stance: sword held straight out, perpendicular to her chest, eyes forward, legs parted.

He remained near the door, giving her as much space as her quarters allowed. “Roa.”

She changed positions, stepping forward, blade raised in a forty-five degree angle.

“Telo.”

She changed to the next position, surprising herself at quickly she had picked them up.

“Efatra.”

Drawing back again, both hands on the hilt, blade raised straight up before her head. This… This was good. Calming. Cathartic.

“Dimy.”

She shifted again, her transitions smooth; that she had been undergoing a workout of a different type moments before helped, she realised with a smile.

A smile he noticed, matching it with one of his own, and a further command. “Enina.”

She dropped down, sword raised to an overhead opponent. “So… what did you hear in here?”

“The rutting, and the argument which interrupted it.”

She felt her skin heat up, holding the Enina stance, waiting for him to give her the word to end, her sword arm beginning to protest. “Sorry, we don’t usually have people nearby with hearing acute enough to be disturbed.”

“If you know Caitians as well as I know you do, then you’ll know that there’s no need to apologise for being young and having a sexual appetite. It was the argument which drew me. From what little I heard, there are issues which you need to address.”

Sasha swallowed; her arm was shaking now. Why didn’t he let her break the pose? He could obviously see she was beginning to struggle now? Was it some test of her endurance, her willpower? She kept her mouth closed, but felt her nostrils expand and contract quickly as she tried to draw more breath.

But he still ignored her, walking around, as if admiring her Caitian decor. “I have had a limited amount of time among humans, but have noted that some, particularly those of Terran origin, allow their natural pride in their own rich cultures to expand into assumption, that theirs are the ones that others should emulate and admire, a fact which many do, given the predominance of Terrans throughout the Federation. 

I daresay there’s a few who will see you embracing a Caitian identity, and see it as a form of criticism of them. And admittedly, there will be some Caitians who will also see you embracing a Caitian identity, and see it as a form of undeserved appropriation.”

Sasha shook, but doubled her efforts to keep still, silently willing her instructor to notice her discomfort and respond. 

But he didn't, moving to her table, and her twin Pummels, examining them curiously. “You cannot respond to either camp. Just be who you are, who you want to be. And recognise that your anger tonight might have been fuelled by something inside you, something more than your lover’s careless, but perhaps not intentionally malicious words-” He paused, setting down the weapons and seemingly regarding her. “Is there a problem?”

“W-Why-” she gasped, licking her lips, breathing through her mouth now. “Why won’t you call Valo, l-let me stop doing this?”

Ctuuri drew closer, leaning in to look into her eyes. “Why won’t you ask for help when you clearly need it?” He blinked. “Do you need help?”

She felt a bead of sweat run down her nose. “Y-Yes-”

“Valo.”

She lowered her arm, cursing. Smirking, he gently took the sword from her grip before she dropped it, sheathing it once more. “Sit.” As she did so, he entered her bathroom and brought back a glass of water for her, setting it on an adjacent desk. “Proud young female… there’s no shame in asking for help from others, you know. Kaetini are not invincible warriors with the strength to shatter mountains and race across oceans. We are all very, very mortal. We are flawed, and far from perfect. But we should be strong enough to ask for help. I say this, both as your instructor, and as a father, speaking on behalf of your own.”

He reached for another chair, spinning it around so he could straddle it and let his tail swish behind him. He rested his arms on the back of the chair, regarding her, speaking with a more confidential tone. “When I was younger than you, I served during the last Ferasan War, on Peheri and Bonnevis. I was supposed to be on the sidelines, focusing on Electronic Counter Measures at our outposts… but on more than one occasion, when things fell apart, I ended up fighting tooth and claw alongside the Sabrecats and the Infantry.

I survived, of course, and went on to further engagements in the War. But… I was terrified. After each firefight, I was certain that the next one would be my last, that I was living on borrowed time, and that I would never see my wife and cub again, that there wouldn’t be anything left of me to send back to them. 

I couldn’t sleep, afraid of the nightmares, of feeling the Ferasan teeth at my throat again in my head, as they had done in real life, and waking up having pissed the bed once more. I couldn’t hold down food, couldn’t focus. My rage, my fear, lay just under my fur, each feeding the other. I was clearly suffering from PTSD, I recognised the symptoms, but kept it to myself… even when I was repeatedly harming myself, just to feel something other than the terror.”

He stared at her. “Does any of this sound familiar?”

Sasha swallowed, feeling a kinship in the male’s confession, even more so than during her Counseling sessions with Kami… and also feeling shame in her own actions, in this very room. She knew she wasn’t behaving normally, she knew she needed help.

“I’m scared,” she finally whispered. “Scared of the War. Scared of being hurt again. Scared of having to kill again. I can’t get away from it. I- I mean, I know I could, if I resigned, returned home to Cait, b-but I can’t leave it to others to do. I know my being here can still make a difference. If I save one life, even just one, it’d b-be worth it. But… I’m still scared.”

Ctuuri reached out and took her hands in his own, squeezing warmly. “Sasha, I am not here just to teach you Kaetini swordskills and our history and our secret handshake and passwords. I am here to share our experiences, and to offer you counsel and support. 

We are encouraged to keep accounts of ourselves; there are centuries’ worth in our records, which you will now have access to, and which can only be accessed by fellow Kaetini.

Do not read them expecting mighty ballads of paragons of strength and honour overcoming impossible odds. A Kaetini who calls himself Hero is no Kaetini. 

No, these journals are merely captured moments of males and females who have feared and failed, and cried and roared, and prayed to have the burden they have taken on lifted from them – but still picked themselves up to do what is necessary. They are affirmations that you are not alone in how you feel. The dead, and the living, are here to help you.”

She swallowed. “Tell me more… please...”

*

“Jim?”

Madison was hunched over a systems table, recalibrating the interface, when Sasha approached. Now he straightened up, standing formally, his expression stiff. “Yes, Lieutenant Hrelle?”

Sasha stopped before him, expecting and understanding his reaction. It had been over a day since their fight, and she hadn’t seen him, partly because of their conflicting schedules, partly because she suspected he was avoiding her… and partly because she knew she had been avoiding this conversation.

But she had been spending all of her free time with Ctuuri, confiding in him, and his advice on how to resolve this situation had been sound. She softened her voice, her expression, contrasting his own. “Jim… I’m sorry for reacting the way I did with you. I’ve been working through a lot of personal problems, a lot of stress, and that struggle fuelled how I responded to you. That’s an explanation, not an excuse. I have no excuse. And I hope you can forgive me.”

Madison regarded her, his expression remaining stony. “Is that it, Lieutenant?”

She blinked. “Well, if it’ll help, you can give me a kick in the ass.”

His expression wavered now… and a more welcome glint returned to his eyes. “Really? I’ll need bigger boots on. Much bigger. Your shuris-padded ass covers whole sectors of space.”

She snorted. “Keep making remarks like that, Mrs Madison, and you can just kiss it instead of kick it.”

He shrugged. “I’m up for both. Like I said, there’s a lot there-”

“Madison!”

Both officers started at the shout from Maryk from the other side of Engineering, and looked to see her march in their direction.

“Uh oh,” Madison muttered. “Which of us said her name three times?”

The redheaded Russian strode up to them, standing a head shorter than Sasha and twice that with Madison, but more than compensating with fire. “Madison! You should have finished that recalibration by now! And you would have, if you weren’t flirting with your little girlfriend here!”

Madison blushed. “Yes, Chief! Sorry, Chief!” He spared a final look at Sasha before returning to his duties.

Madison turned to Sasha now. “As for you, Lieutenant, is there a legitimate reason you’re down here in my Engineering?”

Sasha had been prepared to apologise and go; despite technically outranking Maryk, both as Lieutenant and Second Officer, it was Starfleet practice to acknowledge a veteran non-com like Maryk’s authority in her own department. Instead, she stood her ground and replied, “As a matter of fact, Chief, I do: I came to thank you.”

Maryk frowned suspiciously. “Thank me? What the hell for?”

“For your professional response to the unusual conditions imposed upon you by our classified mission.” She nodded in the direction of where the Prowl unit was installed. “It’s a credit to you that you would be uncomfortable with a piece of unknown technology being added to your machinery, just as it’s a credit that you understand the reasons behind the secrecy, and have worked hard to otherwise maintain the superlative levels of quality and efficiency we’ve come to expect of you. Thank you.”

Then she drew Maryk into a big bear hug.

One which the older woman practically fought her way out of. “Get off me! Save it for Madison when he’s off duty, or get yourself spayed and spare the rest of us whatever Caitian heat you’re in!” She glanced around, noting some Engineering Assistants at a nearby Jefferies Tube hatchway had witnessed the display. “You want double duties? It can be arranged!”

They vanished. Maryk made a show of composing herself and marched off the way she came.

Madison was struggling not to laugh out loud. “That was awesome! You should have tried kissing her, she might have just self-destructed on the spot!”

Sasha wagged a scolding finger at him. “Watch that, Mrs Madison, or I’ll invite her in with us for a threesome.”

“Really?” he teased, raising a grin.

“No,” she assured him, smirking. “Sasha Don’t Share.”

*

Long range sensors detected the Black Talon at the outskirts of the Stella Tenebris system, before the Ajax turned off its active sensors, dropped out of warp and activated the Prowl, Weynik only now briefing the Bridge crew on the classified aspects of their mission, as sidearms were handed out as per Regulations.

Weynik showed no emotion as he sat in the centre chair. “Lt Hrelle, ensure our power signature is tightened as much as possible. Tighter than a thong around your Dad’s nethers.”

“That’s nasty, Sir.”

“Yes it is. Mr Grel, slightly alter our course, avoid the denser portions of this system’s Oort Belt; we don’t want to leave any footprints in the stellar snow.”

“Aye, Sir.”

The Roylan turned slightly to view Ctuuri. “Status of the Prowl, Major?”

The Caitian male was at a station adjacent to Sasha’s, and examined the readings. “All systems are at Optimum, Captain; your ship’s power systems are higher than most of ours, but Lt Hrelle and I have spent the last couple of days working to compensate, and I believe we’ve succeeded. But you’ll need to keep your shields and weapons off-line.”

“Understood, Major. Our ablative armour will protect us from any initial attack until we get those on-line.” Weynik faced forward again.

Ctuuri looked to Sasha, and in Old Caitian muttered, “He’s quite a Commanding Officer. Are there many Roylans in Starfleet?”

Sasha smiled. “Not many. But his father is our Fleet Admiral.”

“Hmm. Did you finish reading that account of Hattori Hanzō and how he forged the first Kaetini sword-”

“Something you two would care to share with the rest of the class?” Weynik asked, never looking back.

Sasha straightened out. “Just discussing history, Sir.”

“Yes, well, perhaps you can put away the past, and focus on the present… and the immediate future?”

All eyes looked ahead, to see the Ferasan Prideship Black Talon filling on the viewscreen: tri-nacelled, arrowhead-shaped, brick red in colour but with the names of the Pride who crewed this particular vessel along the radiator and atmospheric fins, and a large round dome on the central dorsal side.

Sasha couldn’t help but tense at the sight of it… but acknowledging that Ctuuri, with his agitated tail and ear twitching, had far more to feel anxious about seeing them than she did.

“Where is the Dominion?” Kohanim asked.

“Have we missed them?” Ensign Bump asked. “Have they had the meeting already?”

“Passive scans are picking up ion traces,” Sasha reported. “Consistent with Jem’Hadar energy signatures from about an hour ago.”

Weynik nodded. “They’ll have dropped off the Vorta representative, and probably a couple of Jem’Hadar guards, and then retreated to patrol local space until the preliminary negotiations are over. Mr Grel, reduce speed to one-tenth impulse, take us in, and stop at ten kilometres of the Black Talon.”

Heads turned to their Captain, Kohanim noting, “That’s very… close, Sir, spatially speaking.”

“We need to be, for the coherent neutrino beam to be effective. Mr Shanek, ensure all available computer memory is ready to interpret the data the beam will be feeding us. We’ll make a full pass around the vessel, Mr Grel, using manoeuvring thrusters only, until we locate the Dominion party. 

Lt Hrelle, Ensign Bump, Major Ctuuri, your jobs will be to keep your eyes peeled outwards, in case the Jem’Hadar return; the fact that the Ferasans haven’t responded to our presence yet suggests the Prowl is working, but we don’t know how effective it will be against Dominion scanning technology.”

The Bridge crew went silent as they performed their duties, and once the Ajax reached its destination, and the Black Talon completely filled up the viewscreen, the coherent neutrino beam came online. 

Sasha glanced away from her outer system scans, curious. She had heard about this experimental scanning technology, providing not only an exographic view of the interior of the other ship, but an approximation of the sounds within, based on ambient vibrations from the surrounding metal. But while the requirement of being this close would be prohibitive under most circumstances, in this instance, it was ideal for what they needed to do. She saw views of the interior of the Black Talon, saw the crew moving about, working, sleeping…

Wait, was a collection of them in one room, looking in the direction of the Ajax? No, she decided, it was just her imagination.

And yet...

“Ambient sound analysis is ongoing, Captain,” Shanek reported. “Seeking key words to triangulate meeting location...”

From her station, Sasha drew up a new reading, glancing at Ctuuri. “Major, is that an antiproton field emanating from the Black Talon? I was not aware that they possessed-”

Ctuuri’s head shot up in alarm. “Captain! Raise your shi-”

Light suffused Sasha’s vision, and she felt the quantum dissolution of a transporter beam envelop her-

-Dropping her into a darker environment, with a slightly heavier gravity. She drew her phaser sidearm instinctively, even as she acknowledged that all of the occupants of the Bridge – Weynik, Kohanim, Bump, Shanek, Grel, Ctuuri and herself – had been transported as well.

Leaving them in a circle surrounded by charging Ferasans.

“Fire!” Weynik ordered, having drawn his own phaser as well. Sasha and others tried, only to find their weapons not functioning. She dropped her hold on it immediately, dodging the clawed swipe her own Ferasan attacker aimed at her, allowing her to twist and kick into the sebaceous nerve cluster on the Ferasan’s outer knee, before delivering a sharp jab at his groin and flipping him over her shoulder.

Around her, her fellow abductees were also fighting, with varying degrees of success; the only ones holding their own were Ctuuri, teeth and claws bared and roaring; Weynik, whose heavyworlder status made his opponents always underestimate the compact-sized Captain; and Shanek with his Vulcan strength.

A loud bang filled the air, and Kohanim cried out, clutching his stomach, bent over and dropping to his knees, before a Ferasan armed with one of their assault pistols, as a more decorated male beside him shouted, “Enough! Surrender, or the rest of you will be shot as well!”

The fighting stopped, and the phasers and combadges were confiscated. Weynik moved to Kohanim, who was now collapsing to the floor, face grimacing in agony, gasping for air. Sasha joined them, trying to examine the wound, but already having a prognosis. “Ballistic wound, internal damage- their bullets carry anticoagulants to prevent wounds from clotting, Sir. He’ll need immediate treatment!”

The highly-decorated Ferasan, a tall sable-furred male with the typical prominent fangs peeking out from his flat snout, made a sound. “I am Eukanna, Pridemaster of this vessel! Who is your Pridemaster here?”

Weynik stood up. “I’m Captain Weynik, USS Ajax. What is the meaning of this abduction?”

Eukanna regarded him theatrically… and then drew back and laughed. “You are the commander? You look like an ugly rag doll one of my slower Kittens might want to play with!” He picked up one of the captured phasers and examined it. “A lovely design, Ragdoll.” Then he tossed it over his shoulder. “But, like your communicator badges, vulnerable to the duonetic field we are generating. Unlike our own weapons.”

Sasha rose to her feet to join Weynik, but indicated Kohanim. “This man you shot needs medical attention, now-”

The Ferasan Pridemaster’s hand, claws extended, struck her across the face with astonishing speed, and she went down, halfway over Kohanim. Her face felt raw, but she forced herself to look back up defiantly, as Weynik stepped between her and the Ferasan. “You’ve no right to do that to one of my crew!”

Eukanna made a show of lightly licking the tips of the claws that struck Sasha. “Captured prey have few rights onboard our ships. Females have fewer.” He looked over at Ctuuri. “And Caitian scum have none at all.

Foolish prey! We were aware of your cloaked presence the moment you stopped outside our ship, thanks to the gift of an antiproton scanner from our new friends in the Dominion; when I bring it back to the Patriarchy to be installed on the rest of our ships to deal with the Caitian fleet, I will gain unparalleled acclaim, and a seat on the High Pridemasters Council.”

“Then what do you want with the rest of us? Just take what you got and let us go.”

Eukanna laughed again. “Oh, Captain Ragdoll, you’ve only just arrived! And our Dominion guests are waiting to greet you!”

“What about my First Officer? Without treatment, he’ll die!”

Eukanna considered this, and nodded. “Yes. Yes, he probably will. But what’s your point?”

More Ferasans grabbed Weynik to drag him away, and as Sasha returned to her feet, he called to her, “Do whatever you have to do to help Kohanim! Stay together, watch out for each other!”

Sasha watched helplessly was Eukanna and Weynik disappeared, leaving her to assess the situation: ten Ferasans, but only a couple packing ballistic pistols like the one that had wounded Kohanim, the rest no doubt relying on their strength and speed, their teeth and claws, to handle their prisoners. A rescue party might come from the Ajax… but who knew how long that might take, once they were beamed away and the computer adopted Security Lockdown Protocols? 

She knew she could handle one or two of them – especially with the Pummels she had tucked down the insides of her boots; yes, Grandma, I do take your advice, and appreciate your gifts. Ctuuri could handle even more, if he wasn’t being kept separate from the rest of the prisoners by two of the Ferasans, but while Shanek had his Vulcan strength to compensate, Bump and Grel weren’t fighters, and Kohanim-

She knelt again, removing her jacket, bundling it up and stuffing it into the Zakdorn’s stomach, trying to stem the flow of sickly yellow-white blood seeping from him. She looked up at Bump. “Come here, Ensign, press here, hold tightly.”

The young man looked pale, almost ready to faint, but to his credit, nodded, knelt and obeyed her directions. “Like this, Ma’am?”

“Yes, good work.” Absently she let her hands move to the tops of her boots, checking but already knowing that her Pummels were still tucked down there. Then she looked over to Ctuuri, trying to catch his attention-

“Hey, Female,” one of the Ferasans behind her growled. “Pleasure me, and we’ll save the pudgy one’s life.”

His Pridemates laughed, and Bump looked over at him. “Shut your filthy mouth!”

That made the Ferasans laugh more, and Sasha order, “Stand down, Ensign, I don’t need your help.” She rose and faced the Ferasans, a plan coalescing already as she approached. “Okay, sport.”

He blinked. “Okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Come on, let’s go somewhere.” Yes, let’s go so I can bust your rat-tailed ass, take your weapon and come back here to save the others-

The Ferasan chuckled, though his tail twitched in reaction at her unexpected agreement of his offer. “I knew human females were all shameless whores. That comes from being able to mate out of Season.”

“Go on, Syussl,” taunted one of the other Ferasans. “Take her. Then let us have a turn!”

She sneered at him. “Yeah, Syussl, take me. What’s wrong, don’t know what to do? Come on, I know all the moves, I can make you feel better than you ever felt before. Let’s find a nice quiet place-”

“No,” he hissed with delight. “Here. I want my brothers to see me in action.”

Sasha paused, drawing closer and resting her hand on his chest, offering him what she hoped he’d interpret as a seductive smile. “I work much better without an audience. Come on, Stud, I’ll even do your brothers after you. But you get to be first-”

“Lieutenant,” Shanek now said, sounding concerned even for a Vulcan. “I do not believe Lt Cmdr Kohanim would want you to debase yourself in such a fashion, even to save his life.”

Inwardly she groaned – was every member of her crew going to play Sir Fucking Galahad to defend her honour? – and turned to him. “Stay out of this, Ensign. I merely wish to Doublecock our captors. Like I did on Poker Night. Remember?”

She saw the subtle reaction of comprehension on his face, a look mirrored with Grel. Good, she thought.

“Mind your own business, Vegetarian!” the Ferasan Syussl snarled at Shanek, turning back to Sasha, his gaze narrowing and his teeth bared. “I’ve seen videos of what human females can do with their mouths.” He reached out, clasping her chin in his furred hand. “Why don’t you show us?”

She stiffened at his touch, but forced herself to smile. “Well, if you insist...” She dropped to one knee, her hand reaching for the top of her boot-

Suddenly a wail caught the attention of everyone in the room, and Sasha turned in place to see Ctuuri on all fours, rolling around and mewling loudly. “I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die! Please, spare me! I’m too young! I want my Mama!”

The Ferasans looked to each other in disbelief, the one nearest Ctuuri kicking him in the side. “Be silent, you miserable, woman-worshipping weakling!”

Sasha watched the performance in disbelief. Why would he behave like that now? He must have figured out what she was about to do, he could have joined in!

The second Ferasan nearest Ctuuri bent down and picked him back up to his knees, shoving the barrel of his pistol against the side of the Caitian’s head. “We should kill you, just to silence you, filthy effete!”

Ctuuri was making a show of trying to compose himself, sniffling and pleading, “Please, Please let me pray to the Great Mother for strength! I’ll be quiet, I promise! Just don’t hurt me!”

The first Ferasan nearest him sneered. “Go on, then! Pray to your bitch goddess!”

“Thank you! Thank you!” He knelt there, calming down, eyes closed, hands clasped as he began speaking in old Caitian. “Don’t do it, Sasha. I have a better plan.”

She started, but quickly forced aside any recognition, not wanting to arouse suspicion.

Then he continued. “I have a personal transporter unit on me: a gift from the Mother’s Claws. It has just enough power for two people, and will automatically take you back to the last point where we were beamed away, to the Bridge of your ship.”

Sasha breathed in. A personal transporter unit? How? Why? And why hadn’t he used it before now to escape?

He opened his eyes, as if staring up at the ceiling in lamentation, his arms held out wide. “You must use it to take you and your wounded crewmate back. They will not help him here, and I can smell he is almost dead. When I make my move, you return to Kohanim. Once you’re back on the Ajax, you can see about coming back for the rest of us.”

She swallowed, and spoke in a whisper. “But what will they do to you-”

“You know that doesn’t matter for people like us, Sasha,” he replied, still praying to the ceiling. “But if something happens to me, there are instructions in my possessions. Letters for my wife and son.”

“Tan-” she started.

“Sasha… I’m proud to have met you. Remember what makes us Kaetini...”

“Tan, wait-”

He leapt to his feet, twisting and swinging one leg up to connect the heel of his boot with the jaw of one Ferasan nearest him, even while offering his clawed hand in a wide arc to rake across the eyes of the other Ferasan.

The other Ferasans didn’t even react yet, but Sasha was ready, twisting and leaping back towards Kohanim, draped over him – and shocking Bump into falling backwards, even as Ctuuri leapt over the Ensign, reaching into a fold in his Navy jacket and producing a pen-like object, slapping it into Sasha’s open hand.

They touched. Their eyes met.

She saw so much there-

-Before she felt the lights brighten and the gravity lighten, and she tumbled to the upper deck of the Ajax bridge, the Red Alert klaxon filling the air, Kohanim beneath her, still unconscious and bleeding. She gasped-

-Seeing four Ferasans at various positions, pounding their fists onto consoles and arguing amongst themselves. “-Verride! Hurry, you bastards, before they break thro-”

“Look!” one of them said, pointing in her direction.

She understood instantly: taking prisoners wasn't enough. They were here to take the Ajax as well!

The four Ferasans were now moving towards her.

She left Kohanim on the floor and scurried under a railing, trying to reach for the Pummels in her boots. One of the Ferssans swiped her back, raking through her undershirt to her skin – shit, she wished she still had her jacket on! – and grabbed the chair at the Helm station to use as a weapon, buying her enough time to draw out one of her Pummels, slipping her fingers through the holes.

One Ferasan reached up from behind the Helm station and grabbed a handful of her hair, dragging her up, as a second Ferasan leapt forward and raked his claws across her belly, drawing blood. She kicked out, connecting with his balls, even as she swung backwards with her weapon hand, hearing and feeling the neuroleptic charge send the Ferasan holding her hair backwards.

The other two charged towards her, and it was all Sasha could do to ignore the pain in her abdomen and twist out of their grasp- could she get to the weapons locker, grab a phaser-

The fourth Ferasan, on the floor after the kick to his crotch, grabbed her right shin above her boot, claws extended, piercing her flesh and muscle. She shrieked, twisting herself and kicking him in the face, even as she punched the third Ferasan in the snout, making him drop.

The first and second Ferasans staggered towards her, even as she twisted over another rail, the pain in her calf and back and stomach accumulating, making her fully aware that she couldn’t keep this up forever, she had to get help-

One of the remaining Ferasans clamped his mouth onto her left bicep and sank his fangs into her muscle. Agony shot through her, Sasha responding with driving her thumb into one of his eye sockets. The Ferasan released his mouth to scream, letting her pound the Pummel into him, shattering fangs. She couldn’t last- she had to get to the Security station-

The last Ferasan leapt onto her from behind, trying to grasp her by the hair again, succeeding in clamping onto the side of her head, his claws digging into her skin-

She reached the station, releasing the locks-

White-hot pain suffused her as the Ferasan claws dug into her scalp…and ripped back...

*

Weynik kept pace, refusing to let his captors touch him to make him move faster, as they led him into a spacious area of the Black Talon, obviously used as a communal dining offer meeting place, filled with many tables and chairs and topped with the transparent dome they had seen on their approach.

One humanoid figure in nondescript clothes sat at the end of the largest table: a Vorta female, with pale skin, violet eyes, and ears that ran from the bottom of her jaw to about the height of where most humanoid ears would end. Behind her, two Jem’Hadar stood, cradling weapons against their broad chests, their spiky reptilian faces focused on the new arrival.

The Vorta rose to her feet, arms spreading out and smile broadening. “Greetings, Captain Weynik! My name is Nauveh, a humble representative of the Dominion. Would you care to sit?”

He took in the surroundings, seeking weapons, escape, a diversion-

Pridemaster Eukanna smacked him on the back of his head. “Pay attention, Ragdoll!”

Nauveh displayed a mildly shocked look – one that, Weynik noticed, seemed as much a shallow front as her greeting. “Please, Pridemaster, there’s no need for such displays of aggression. We can all behave like civilised individuals, even if we’re on opposing sides. Isn’t that right, Captain?”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Civilised individuals don’t needlessly wound prisoners and then refuse to allow them medical treatment.”

Nauveh looked to the Ferasans curiously, allowing Eukanna to explain gruffly, “We needed to make an example of one, to quell rebellion and spare the rest the same fate.”

The Vorta took this in, making a sound of understanding as she looked back at Weynik. “That seems quite reasonable, Captain: one life, to save many others. Don’t your Andorians having a saying? ‘The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few, or the one’?”

“It’s the Vulcans.”

“Well, whichever race thought of it, I’m sure your wounded colleague would agree with the sentiment. Don’t you?”

“Maybe. But he wasn’t given the option to choose.”

The Vorta offered an expression that Weynik guessed was meant to be sympathetic, but, like so many other expressions, seemed to be indelibly tainted with simpering insincerity. “Such a shame, to be debilitated in this way.”

“Debilitated?”

She nodded. “Many of the species of the Federation seem to place an inordinately high value on individual lives; you will risk your own to try and protect members of your crew, of your society, regardless of their actual value… even people you don’t know.

True strength, Captain, lies in subsuming the individual for the whole.” She indicated the Jem’Hadar soldiers behind her. “Our warriors are bred in the millions. And each one has ingrained in them the understanding of their purpose for existing: not for themselves, but for the Founders, the Dominion.” She looked over her right shoulder. “Iyalan'dak, tell the Captain what the Jem’Hadar say as they prepare for battle.”

The Jem’Hadar lifted up his – her? Weynik wondered. Its? – head, the spiky, segmented face inexpressive, but its voice surprisingly emotive as it responded. “‘As of this moment, we are all dead. We go into battle to reclaim our lives. This we do gladly, for we are Jem’Hadar. Victory is Life.’”

“Victory is Life,” Nauveh echoed, smiling. “We understand this well, Captain. Were our positions reversed, and one of the Jem’Hadar was lying wounded and dying on the floor, we wouldn’t have allowed it to stop us in our resistance to capture.”

“And what if it was you?” Weynik asked.

Her smile never wavered. “If my suffering and death served the Founders, served the Dominion, then I would gladly suffer and die.”

“Prove it.”

The Vorta gave a soft laugh. “Perhaps another time, Captain.” She looked to Eukanna. “And how goes the capture of the Ajax, Pridemaster?”

The Ferasan gnashed his teeth with pleasure. “I have a boarding party over there on their Bridge right now, seizing control of their ship. It will soon be in my hands.”

“Our hands, Pridemaster,” Nauveh corrected gently. “Remember?”

Eukanna bristled, his hairless tail twitching, but he assented, “Yes. Your hands.”

Weynik controlled his reaction as he listened, even as he gauged the possible outcomes. Security Lockdown, Chief Maryk would run an internal scan, maybe flood the Bridge with neurozine-

The Vorta nodded graciously. “Still, I must say, you appear to be passing the audition beautifully.”

“Audition?” Weynik finally asked.

Nauveh returned to the Starfleet officer. “Yes, Captain. As the Dominion seeks out allies in the Alpha Quadrant, in preparation for what seems will be a tragic but inevitable war with the benighted Federation and Klingon Empire, we test potential candidates for alliance. In this case, the Ferasan Patriarchy was tasked with capturing your ship and crew, with a little help from captured intelligence, and one of our antiproton sensor beams. And so far, they have been successful.” She indicated the Roylan. “As you have seen for yourself. And soon, we will gain invaluable information on Starfleet from your ship, your crew… and yourselves.”

Weynik folded his arms across his chest. “I think you’ll find that to be more difficult than you might imagine.”

She offered a simpering sad face. “The Vorta were not gifted with imagination, Captain. We are bred, like the Jem’Hadar, only to serve our Gods to the best of our abilities. But we are not without compassion, and we do not wish you or anyone else to suffer needlessly.” She walked around the table to face him. “Perhaps your people could use inspiration, inspiration from a redoubtable leader such as yourself, to set an example for them? An example of how cooperation will inevitably benefit all of you. What do you say, Captain?”

He looked up at her. “Name: Weynik. Rank: Captain. Serial Number: JE-977-111.”

Nauveh feigned disappointment. “I see. Would you be a little less stubborn if another member of your crew joined your wounded colleague?”

“Name: Weynik. Rank: Captain. Serial Number: JE-977-111.”

“Captain, I was hoping that our conversation could be more fruitful, before you and your crew were transferred to one of our Internment Camps for enhanced interrogation, but-”

The Vorta’s words were cut off, as the door behind Weynik slid open, and a Ferasan rushed up to Eukanna. “Pridemaster, two of the Starfleet prisoners have escaped! The female, and the wounded one!”

“Track them down! She can’t have gone far dragging that dying lump of flab!”

“They beamed away! The Caitian scum gave them some sort of portable transporter!”

Eukanna smacked the other male across the snout. “Did you not search the prisoners first? Fool! Alert our boarding party on the Ajax!”

“We’re trying, Pridemaster, but they are not responding-”

Suddenly something overhead caught everyone’s attention, and Weynik looked straight up through the dome, to see the Ajax veer away, and jump into warp.

All were silent, until Nauveh intoned, “Oh dear. How disappointing.”

Weynik watched his ship disappear – good girl, Sash, get out of here and get help – and looked down again, past the Ferasans to the open doorway, and bolted for it. Some of them reached out, but he used his size and strength to surprise them, flipping one of them into the other.

“Stop him!” Eukanna roared.

Weynik was almost out the doorway, when two more Ferasans appeared from the corridor and tackled him, trying to rake him with their claws, though his ossified skin proved tougher than they expected, and they settled for pinning him down.

“Bringing back a Defiant-class vessel for study would have been most auspicious, Pridemaster,” Nauveh informed Eukanna, sounding very much to Weynik like some teacher scolding an underperforming pupil.

The Ferasan leader looked to her, looking and sounding agitated, almost desperate now to stay in the Vorta’s proverbial good books. “We still have the Starfleet prisoners! A starship Captain and his Bridge officers! They will surely be valuable enough for your Founders to agree to an alliance!”

Nauveh offered him a reproving look. “Perhaps. But maybe you should finally have the prisoners secured pending the return of our ships?”

“Of course, of course… but-”

“But, what?”

“The Caitian! He will be of no use to you strategically! May we deal with him in our own way for his actions?”

“Hmmm… well, I suppose-”

“NO!” Weynik cried out, struggling beneath the weight of the Ferasans piled upon him. “M-Major- Major Ctuuri- is a member of my crew- he’s- under my authority- my protection-”

“Some protection, Ragdoll,” Eukenna sneered – driving a boot hard into Weynik’s face.

*

Sasha was deep in darkness, and pain, a huge thunderous roar pounding inside her, and she fought to try and reach the surface, moving towards the sounds and voices far above her.

“-evere lacerations along the right temporal scalp are repaired, along with the deeper cuts in the left tibalis anterior, the abdominal muscles, the left breast, the serratus and rhomboid muscles-”

Jim’s anxious voice cut through Nurse Okeke’s words. “Never mind that! Did she suffer any brain damage?”

Now the sibilant voice of Roke’naar, the civilian Gorn doctor serving onboard the Ajax, slithered into Sasha’s consciousness. “That particular injury looked worse than it was, Lieutenant Madissson. Certainly nothing compared to what she did to her attacker… ahhh, she awakensss. Nurssse, 20ccs anaprovaline.”

Sasha blinked open, immediately regretting staring up into the nova bright lights of Sickbay, and shielded her eyes with her hand, noting Jim closest to her, holding her other hand tightly and looking ashen. “Sash! Don’t move! Amara, where’s her painkillers, she must be in agony, hurry, hurry-”

Okeke shoved him out of the way. “Shut up, Man Mountain, or I’ll sedate you.” She pressed the hypospray in her hand against Sasha’s bicep, adding more softly to her, “Take it easy for a few moments.”

Sasha licked her lips, feeling the pain subside already, moving from the nurse to Jim to the reptoid doctor. “I’m not dead?”

Roke’naar hissed with amusement. “Not today, Lieutenant.”

She nodded weakly. “Didn’t think so. Hurt too much to be dead-” She half-sat up, regretting it but remaining in that position. “The Ferasans- Kohanim- what- what happened-”

Madison grew even more pale. “Lie down, Sash, you’ve been through so much-”

“Someone give me a report!” she barked, her face wincing in residual pain. “Consider that an order.”

“Lieutenant Commander Kohanim will recover,” Roke’naar reported. “He was in critical condition, but you got him back to us jussst in time.”

She nodded, looking over at the Intensive Care Unit, seeing the Zakdorn lying there, being monitored. “The Ferasan boarding party?”

Madison looked sickly again. “You disabled three of them, they were treated and moved to the Brig. The fourth- the one who attacked you last- he’s dead.”

“Dead...” The right side of her head felt cold.

“Yesss,” the Gorn doctor confirmed. “You did not leave much of him for me to autopsssy.”

She pulled her hand out of Madison’s hold and tentatively touched up there, feeling around, noting the reactions of the others… and the bare scalp.

“The Ferasan you killed had caused an avulsion of the right side of your scalp,” Okeke explained gently. “What they used to call ‘de-gloving’, a peeling back of dermal layers...” She paused. “The details aren’t important. We had to remove your hair on this side of your head to perform an effective treatment, but we can stimulate follicle growth later.”

“Hair seemssss overrated anyway,” Roke’naar noted.

Sasha’s hand moved along the side of her head, not recalling whenever she had ever been able to actually touch her scalp so easily before; she felt scars across her forehead, touched along the ridges.

“We’ll take care of those as well,” Okeke promised.

“Yes,” Madison smiled at Sasha, trying to hide his obvious shock over what happened to her. “Everything’s going to be fine-”

“How long was I out?”

“Thirty minutesss,” Roke’naar told her.

Now, it all seemed to tumble down over her, like some overstacked pile of junk. “The Captain- Major Ctuuri, the others- we have to rescue them-” When she saw the humans present glance at each other, she demanded, “What?”

Madison looked to her. “We’re leaving the system.”

“What? On whose authority?”

“Chief Maryk took command,” Madison replied. “She’s non-commissioned, but her seniority and ship role-”

Sasha swung her legs out over the side of the biobed and rose, momentarily clutching onto Madison for support. “Gotta get to the Bridge-”

“What?” Madison exclaimed in disbelief. “No! You’re not going anywhere! Not after all you’ve been through! You have to stay here!”

She looked up at him, appreciative of his concern for her, but not having any patience for it now. The longer they travelled away from the Black Talon, the harder it would be to find them and rescue the hostages. “No, I don’t, I’m fine-”

“The Hell you are!” He looked to the Gorn. “Tell her, Doctor!”

Sasha looked to the Gorn as well. “Did I hear right? That there was no brain damage? No reason to keep me here?”

“Yesss, Lieutenant.”

“Then, if you can spare a little adrenazine for a boost, I can leave.”

“No!” Madison repeated, cutting her off, staring in shock. “Sasha, you suffered a massive trauma- you were savagely attacked-”

[the flesh tore under the claws tore like paper like old cloth blood down her face into her eyes] 

“I know.”

“You killed the Ferasan!”

[down her face into her eyes she turned and clamped onto fur soft hot flesh blood] 

“I know that too-”

He gripped her tightly, almost pleadingly. “Sasha… you ripped open his carotid artery with your teeth! Gouged out his eyes! There was blood everywhere! Yours! His!”

[she tasted his blood sharp tangy felt her fingers dig into his eye sockets scooping out his eyeballs he screamed into her ear deafening pumping God God God] “I...”

He held her steady, his eyes welling up with anguish over what she had gone through. “You have to stay here.”

[her Beast her Beast lived and roared and rose up in sweet terrible ascendance] 

“I...”

Madison touched her cheek, assuring her, “You’ve done more than enough.”

She looked up at him.

And drew back, not needing his support here and now. She swallowed. “No. I haven’t.” She looked to Roke’naar. “When the Captain and the other hostages are back, then I’ll rest, I promise. In the meantime, get me that shot of andrenazine.” She looked back at Madison. “You follow me.”

*

Sasha was quickening her pace as she stepped through the sliding doors and onto the Bridge, tensing instinctively, until she saw the Starfleet officers manning the stations instead of Ferasans. The place had even been cleaned up- 

No. No, there was still dark stains on the floor near her station- 

[the flesh tore under the claws tore like paper like old cloth blood down her face into her eyes]

-but she ignored them as she stepped forward. “Chief.”

Maryk was in the centre seat, but now spun around and faced her, starting at Sasha’s appearance. “What the hell are you doing out of Sickbay, Hrelle?”

“I have work to do. Where are you taking us?”

“I’m getting us back to the Fleet! What else do you think I’d be doing? We’ve lost the Captain and three officers, our First Officer’s been critically injured-”

Sasha stepped forward, looking to the Helm Officer. “Mr Atkinson, turn us around, take us back to the Black Talon, Warp 9.8.”

Maryk rose from the Captain’s chair. “Hold it right there, Hrelle-”

Sasha ignored her, looking to the others. “Ms Zallam, the Ferasans detected our Prowl cloak with a Dominion antiproton beam. We might be able to counteract it by adjusting the Prowl’s resonance frequency; study the system logs of our encounter and the schematics Major Ctuuri made available to us. Mr Madison will assist you-”

“Hey, Hrelle-” Maryk continued.

Now Sasha glanced at her. “That’s Lieutenant Hrelle, Chief. I earned that rank, and the position of Second Officer. Remember that.” She shot a look at the Helm again. “Is there a reason you’re not following my orders, Mr Atkinson?”

The young Ensign shot a confused look between the two women, stopping at Maryk. “Uh, Chief, what should I do?”

The older woman never took her glare off of Sasha. “You keep us going back to the Fleet, Mr Atkinson.” Then she stepped closer. “Have you seen yourself, Lieutenant Hrelle? You look like shit.”

Sasha never broke her own glare. “You should see the other guy… what’s left of him. Mr Atkinson, you can follow my orders, or you can end up in the Brig. Along with Chief Maryk.”

The Russian Chief stiffened. “You are not qualified to command this vessel, or to launch any kind of half-assed rescue mission of Captain Weynik and the rest! You’re going to end up blowing us to Hell, or getting us captured too! Now get back to Sickbay where you belong!”

Sasha stepped back… and tapped her combadge. “Security to the Bridge, on the double!” As she closed the channel, she raised her chin. “You have until they arrive to decide where you want to spend the next couple of hours.” She raised her voice as she looked around her. “The same goes for anyone else here! We do not leave our people behind! Ever!”

The Bridge doors slid open, and two Security crewmen strode in, phasers in hand, the senior of the two, Crewman Emily Roth, asking, “Lieutenant Hrelle?”

Sasha looked back at Maryk, but spoke to them all. “‘We’re Starfleet officers. We don’t give up. We don’t fail and we don’t surrender. Never leave anyone behind or say die. 

Our history is long and even though we’re from different species, different worlds, different genders, and different societies, there is one thing that we have in common when you put on this uniform.

We’re family. We’re brothers and sisters in Starfleet and together we can overcome any challenge, any obstacle, and every fight. Together, we’re stronger than apart.’

Captain Weynik’s father, Admiral Tattok, once told me that.

Captain Weynik, Shanek, Grel, Bump, Major Ctuuri… any of them would do anything to save any of us. We owe them the same loyalty. I need your help to get them back, Helga. Will you help me?”

Maryk regarded the younger woman… and stepped back, her gaze narrowing. “You heard the Lieutenant, Mr Atkinson: get us back to the Ferasans, Warp 9.8.”

“Aye, Ma’am… Ma’ams. ETA 32 minutes.”

Sasha offered the other woman a look of appreciation, glanced at the chronometer over the main viewscreen and announced, “Attention All Hands: as of Stardate 50838.6, I am assuming command of the Ajax, and we are returning to rescue Captain Weynik and our fellow crewmen. Yellow Alert.”

The Yellow Alert klaxon sounded, and Sasha breathed in and turned to Madison. “Lieutenant, assist Ms Zallam with adjusting the Prowl.” She watched her lover nod and comply, and then faced the Security crewmen. “Ms Roth: you’ll be leading a team to rescue our people from the Ferasans. We have scans of the interior of their ship, get them studied, work out where the prisoners might be held. The Ferasans have duonetic fields onboard, disabling phasers and combadges, and they use ballistic weapons; I want you and your team equipped with body armour, transtator-based communicators and TR-100 ballistic pistols.”

Roth nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.” She moved to the Tactical station.

She turned back to Maryk. “The Black Talon’s weapons are no match for ours, but we might also face the Jem’Hadar. We’ll need to keep the weapons and shields offline to make the Prowl effective, but I want to be able to get them online in a heartbeat.”

Maryk adopted a completely professional attitude. “We’ll have it, Ma’am.”

Sasha glanced around again. “And launch a Warp Marker with all our updated logs back to the Fleet.”

“Aye, Ma’am.” Maryk eyed her. “You need a break before we get there, Lieutenant?”

Sasha smiled weakly. “Good idea. I’m curious to see if I look as hideous as everyone’s reactions to me suggest.”

Maryk glanced up reflexively at Sasha’s shaved, scarred right scalp. “It’s not that bad looking, Lieutenant.”

Sasha nodded at that. “You’re too used to saying what’s on your mind, Chief, you’re a crap liar. I’ll be back before we're arrive; you have the Bridge until then.” She looked around once more… and then at the stains on the floor-

[the flesh tore under the claws tore like paper like old cloth blood down her face into her eyes]

She quickened her pace to her quarters, almost stumbling over her own boots before she entered her bathroom and began dry heaving into her toilet. 

Seven Hells… she swore she could still taste the blood in her mouth. Even the horrible stomach acid she brought up couldn’t shake it.

She lay motionless for an indefinite amount of time, before finally, weakly helping herself back up to her feet, swaying clumsily towards the mirror, looking-

Almost the right half of her head was nearly hairless, leaving a buzz cut that still displayed claw marks and the thin, residual scar of her repaired scalp. Her left half still sported a full strawberry-blonde mane, but now looked so incongruous.

She stared blankly at herself.

She had to get them all back. Captain Weynik had been so good, so supportive and loyal to her, teaching her so much since her arrival, showing so much trust and confidence in her abilities. And Shanek, Grel and even little Darren Bump had become good friends. None of them should be POWs.

And Tan… he was too decent, too loving, too valuable, not just to his wife and cub, but to all his people. 

All their people.

She shuffled back into the main quarters, retrieving her medical kit and finding within a dermal toner beam, normally used to remove scar tissue and bruises.

Then she returned with it to the bathroom, leaning against her sink to peer at this open canvas that had become the right side of her head, already formulating a plan.

Ten minutes after she was done, and approved of her self-modifications, she retrieved her sword… and stopped. 

Oh God, she was gonna die today.

She knew it. Today was finally her day. 

And unlike the Klingons, today did not feel like a good day to die. No day did. 

Sasha's heart raced, her breathing doubled, she was shaking, losing control of her grip on her sword- no no no no no no no-

Iray...

She heard Ctuuri, his voice, his calmness, seeping into her, beckoning her to follow his lead. She drew out the blade, and adopted the first exercise stance: sword held straight out, perpendicular to her chest, eyes forward, legs parted.

Roa...

She changed positions, stepping forward, blade raised in a forty-five degree angle.

Telo...

Efatra...

Dimy...

Each adoption of the moves of the Kaetini training exercise centred her more and more, calming her more and more. 

Enina…

Valo…

And at the end, she repeated the sequence, her moves becoming more assured, more natural. Her fears, her pain, were acknowledged, and then set aside. They would only help so much. 

She was Sasha Hrelle of Clan Shall. 

She was Kaetini.

And she had a job to do.

*

Shanek stood at the door to the Ferasan cell where he and the others had been placed, calmly gripping the bars and testing their strength once more, measuring the resistance.

Behind him, Grel and Bump sat on the single bench, the former asking, “You’re wasting your time, Vulcan.”

Shanek didn't stop his efforts. “We are fortunate in having nothing but time.”

The young human beside Grel was downcast. “What happened to Lt Hrelle and Ms Kohanim? What did Major Ctuuri give them?”

Shanek applied 15% more physical effort towards testing the strength of the bars. “Logic suggests it was a personal transporter device of some sort.”

“That’s not possible!”

“The evidence would argue against that, Ensign Bump.”

“And where would Major Ctuuri get his hands on something like that?” Grel demanded.

“Presumably from the same source that supplied the Prowl?” He increased his efforts another 12%, noting a higher than expected protest from his muscles. “It is best not to waste time speculating, and work on a plan of liberating ourselves.”

“Is that right?” Grel demanded gruffly. “And how is your current plan of scowling at the bars working out?”

Shanek increased his grip until his muscles ached to an appreciable degree. “It is not scowling. It is testing the strength of the alloy employed.”

“I see. And have you learned anything useful?”

“Yes: I believe with sufficient application of strength, we can break free of this cell in approximately 19.32 hours.”

His fellow captors looked up at him without comment. 

Outside, a door slid open, and two Ferasans dragged an unconscious Weynik in, one of the felinoids growling, “Come on, stop dawdling, I don’t want to miss the Feast.”

“I do not dawdle,” his companion declared. “He is heavier than he looks.”

Grel and Bump joined Shanek at their cell door, the Tellarite demanding, “What did you do to our Captain?”

The Ferasans ignored them, opening the cell opposite and dropping the Roylan inside before shutting the door again.

Shanek regarded Weynik, noting he was alive, but unconscious, with bruising to the face. “Under the Treaty of Sirius, Prisoners of War require access to-”

The first Ferasan hissed at him. “Tell it to the Dominion, Vegetarian, they own you now.” He and his brother moved to the exit. 

“Where is Major Ctuuri?” Shanek called after them.

One of the Ferasans glanced over his shoulder as they departed. “He’s helping us with our Victory Feast!” Their laughter continued as the doors slid shut. 

The captives were silent now, until Bump asked, “What did he mean by that?”

Shanek didn’t respond, except to find the inner strength to double his efforts against the bars, allowing him not to focus on the possible fate of the Caitian officer. 

*

Sasha was later than she had planned returning to the Bridge, having made a detour to the Security Section to obtain further items and confirm Crewman Roth was ready with her rescue party and understood her orders. 

Sasha saw the reactions of everyone to her new look, and additions to her uniform, but no one said anything to her until she entered the Bridge and Maryk turned in the Captain's Chair, looked at her and asked, “Are you sure you were cleared by Sickbay, Lieutenant?”

Sasha stopped, adjusting the Kaetini sword strapped to the back of her armoured vest, turning her head this way and that as if to display the red pawprint she had applied to the centre of her shaven half-scalp, and the matching war stripes on her face where she had been clawed. “Status, Chief?”

The older woman rose to her feet. “We’re two minutes from the Black Talon. Long range sensors have detected three Jem’Hadar vessels also on approach, bearing 112 Mark 047-”

“Time until their arrival?”

“At current speeds, approximately twenty minutes.”

Sasha stepped down to the Captain's Chair. “Red Alert.” As the klaxon sounded and the strip of apple-red lighting around the ceiling of the Bridge came to life, she added, “Mr Madison, did you complete the necessary adjustments to the Prowl?”

He looked up from his station, his thoughts about her current appearance and possible state of mind evident in his expression, but his professionalism winning over. “Yes, Ma’am. All ready.”

“Activate it. Mr Atkinson, take us on a course parallel to the Black Talon, five kilometres distant, matching their speed so as not to disturb their warpfield. Mr Gallagher, scan their vessel for non-Ferasan lifesigns, using the coherent neutrino beam, it will be less likely to be picked up by the enemy. Hrelle to Crewman Roth: are you and your team at the Transporter, Emily?” 

“Yes, Ma’am, ready and waiting.”

“Good, stand by.” Sasha turned to Maryk again. “My appearance is deliberate, Chief. I want to intimidate the Ferasans.”

The Russian grunted. “Well, it’s certainly scaring the hell out of me.”

Sasha offered a slight smile. “Well, if I have that effect on you, then I’ll make them soil their fur. Where are they keeping our crew, Mr Gallagher?”

The young Irishman frowned to himself. “I believe I’ve found most of them, Lieutenant, in a secure facility with transporter inhibitors nearby! Roylan, Tellarite, Vulcan, Human-”

“There’s a Caitian as well, Mr Gallagher. Where is Major Ctuuri?”

“It’s difficult to pinpoint him, Lieutenant; Caitians and Ferasans are too close. Most of the Ferasans have congregated in a main assembly area on their ship, beneath that dome. He might be there.”

Sasha looked up at the viewscreen, imagining the Ferasans tormenting Ctuuri for their own amusement now- no. They were burning away what precious little time they had remaining before the Jem’Hadar arrive… and she really would be forced to leave the captives behind.

She turned back to Maryk. “I’m beaming over with Roth and the security team, but my job will be to locate Major Ctuuri. 

The safety of the captives and this ship takes priority. If you or the Captain find it necessary to leave the Major and me behind, you do it. Is that understood?”

Maryk looked ready to argue the point, but instead nodded. “Aye, Ma’am. Good luck.”

Sasha grunted. No attitude from the Chief. 

She really was doomed.

*

Weynik stirred, bolted upright on the floor of his cell, immediately taking in his surroundings, and ignoring the pain in the side of his head where he had been kicked. 

“Captain?” Shanek, confined across from him, spoke up, prompting Grel and Bump to join him at the bars. 

Weynik rose to his feet, examining the bars of his cell door, the distance between them. “Report.”

The Vulcan responded. “You were brought in here unconscious approximately 25.2 minutes ago. We have been attempting to devise a means of escape during our captivity, with little success.”

Grel harrumphed. “By Little, Captain, he means None.”

Weynik touched the bars, easily slipping his right leg out between two of them. “Has there been any sign of Major Ctuuri?”

There was a shift in Shanek’s expression. “Nothing has been confirmed regarding his status, Sir, though the Ferasans have made vague threats regarding his fate, threats I assume are meant merely to intimidate us.”

Weynik stopped and glanced at his Ops officer, having learned a little more about the Ferasans than the Vulcan did. Now he slipped his right arm out to join his leg. “Gentlemen, did you know that 98.4% of the known sentient bipedal races conform to an average height of 1.6 metres?”

Shanek watched his Captain squeeze between the bars. “I… was not aware of that, Sir.”

Weynik grunted as he met resistance with his chest and rear end. You need to cut out the snacks, or you’ll end up like Esek. “Something to do with the mean gravity of most Class-M worlds and the optimum evolutionary dynamics of height and the positioning of sensory organs to detect threats.” He felt greater resistance with his head, and his swept-back fins, even with pivoting.

Until he worked seldom-employed muscles to compact them and give himself greater maneuverability, a holdover from his distant aquatic ancestors’ need to hide in crevices from predators swimming around them. It hurt, but then so would staying in there waiting to be turned over to the Dominion. “In short - so to speak - evolution suggests Bigger is Better.”

He slipped out completely from his cell. “Evolution can be wrong.”

Bump brightened. “You did it, Captain! That was amazing!”

Weynik strode up to the locking mechanism on their door. “You think that’s amazing, Ensign, wait ’til you see what I can do with my mucus.”

But then he reacted to the sound of shouts and shots from the adjacent room. He motioned for his captive officers to step back while he took a defensive stance-

-In time for a Ferasan guard to race in, looking behind him and not noticing Weynik until the Roylan flipped him over his shoulder, driving a heavy fist into the Ferasan’s kidneys and other nerve cluster areas, before turning and preparing to deal with the next one. 

But instead, Security Crewman Emily Roth appeared, clad in body armour and wielding Starfleet-issue ballistic pistols. “Sir! Are you and the others alright?”

Weynik nodded, returning to the fallen Ferasan and frisking him for the cell door key. “Report!”

“Lt Hrelle beamed back to the Ajax with Lt Cmdr Kohanim and stopped the Ferasans trying to take over the Bridge. She was severely injured, Chief Maryk took command and was taking us back to the Fleet, but Lt Hrelle released herself from Sickbay, took command back, turned us around and planned this rescue.”

Bloody Hemra, Sash, at this rate you’ll make Admiral before I do… He rose with a key and opened the doors to his officers’ cell. “Did she come with you?”

Roth was handing out enhanced transporter tags. “Aye, Sir, she’s looking for Major Ctuuri, in a central area where most of the Ferasans have gathered. And Sir, there are three Jem’Hadar ships on their way, ETA approximately twelve minutes.”

“Understood. Give me your communicator and pistol, Crewman, and return to the ship with the others. Mr Shanek, inform Chief Maryk to wait for the signal to beam us back, but if she doesn’t hear from us before the Jem’Hadar arrive, to leave.”

“Sir, request permission to accompany you to rescue Lt Hrelle and Major Ctuuri,” Shanek volunteered.

“Same here, Sir,” Grel added.

Bump, Roth and the rest of the rescue team followed suit.

He grunted, checking the ballistic pistol; it had been a while since he’d trained on one of these. “Thank you, all of you, but no. Now get going.” He raced down the central corridor, already having a horrible, horrible feeling about how this was going to turn out. 

*

Sasha strode forward, finding no Ferasans along the way to give warning. Her heart was racing, but she kept her pace, using the Kitaeni mantras Tan taught her. 

You had better be alive, Mister. Your wife and cub are expecting you back. And so am I. You owe us, as well as yourself, to survive. 

The final doors parted to reveal an open area with tables and chairs, beneath a canopy of transparent material revealing the local starscape. The air here was filled with the scents of meat and spices and the sounds of laughter and revelry from the dozens of Ferasans sitting and feasting, no one noticing her yet, leaving her to scan the group, seeing Pridemaster Eukanna sitting at the farthest table, alongside an alien Sasha recognised as a Vorta, with two Jem’Hadar standing nearby. 

Then the Jem’Hadar noticed her, and raised their weapons, one of them snapping, “Vorta!”

Then everyone looked up and went silent. 

Sasha stepped in, steeling herself as she recalled the traditional Ferasan Challenge, and raised her voice to the assembled. “‘Across the Trackless Veld I have journeyed, to stand before you! I, Lieutenant Sasha Hrelle, challenge you, Pridemaster Eukanna, to fight me.’”

The Ferasan male looked to the bemused Vorta, and then to the rest of his Pride members… and laughed uproariously, quickly joined by nearly everyone else in the main room. Then he rose to his feet, baring teeth in a grin of amusement. “How utterly charming, Kitten! That you would manage to escape our clutches, only to come back of your own accord! Well done! Well done!”

Sasha stepped deeper into the room, aware of Ferasans rising from nearby flanking tables to block her exit. “I made a Formal Challenge to you before your Pride, Eukanna. Are you too much of a coward to accept?”

Eukenna’s expression tightened, even as he tried to maintain a casual air among his Pride and guests. He walked around the table. “It would hardly be considered a challenge to rip open some tailless, furless Earther.”

Sasha kept her stance still, even as she continued to look for Ctuuri. He had to be somewhere here… “Then clearly you don’t know who you are facing today, Bubulah. I am no Earther. I am Sasha Hrelle... of Cait.” She paused, hearing the murmurs from the surrounding Ferasans.

“You lie!” Eukanna sneered. “You look human. You smell human-”

“And yet,” she replied simply. “I am Caitian. I am a Warrior of the Great Mother. I wear Her Mark on my skin.

And I have a formidable pedigree behind me. I am the daughter of Captain Esek Hrelle: the Beast of the Orion Deathmatch Pits, who eats Ferasans like you for breakfast, and shits them out without a second thought.” 

The murmurs increased as she continued. “Is that not enough for you? Very well. I am also the granddaughter of Ma’Sala Shall: the Storm Bringer, the Eighth Hell, the Fleet Captain of the Caitian forces that have whipped your miserable rat-tailed asses time and time again at Claw Keep, Azure Aura, Perigord, Alchemy, and everywhere else you raise your ugly faces.”

Eukanna stared at her incredulously. “You… are truly kin to those scum?”

“Oh yes, I am kin, and proud of it. They taught me well. Very well.” She offered a soft laugh… and a sniff of the air between them. “Is that fear I smell coming from you now, Eukanna? Oh yes, I recognise it, having smelled it so often from your pathetic kind. It runs down your legs like piss whenever your people are faced with a real challenge.” She bared her teeth. “I can’t help but notice you’re still not fighting me. Are you not meant to be invincible warriors here? Hardly a good impression to make to your guests, is it?”

Eukanna sneered again… but the reminder of the Dominion members present seemed to make him smile as he looked back at his table. “Nauveh, perhaps your Jem’Hadar would like the privilege of capturing another Starfleet officer? Or even killing her? It might amuse you.”

Sasha’s eyes followed to the table, where the Vorta sat, without a plate in front of her, merely a simple cup held in modest pale hands. She smiled. “We wouldn’t dream of interfering with your traditions, Pridemaster. Carry on.”

Eukanna’s smile dropped.

Sasha hissed to recapture his attention. “Trying to get the Dominion to fight your battles, Pridemaster? Why don’t you call for your Mama while you’re at it, Snagglepuss? Go on, call her, I’ll wait while you suckle on her teats for comfort.”

He hissed back. “You wish to be treated as Caitian, Starfleet? Fine.” He bared his teeth. “You can join the other one here for our Feast.”

Mention of Ctuuri made her stiffen and glance around. “Where is he?”

“Here. He has been here all along.” He looked at the far end of the room. “Send the Caitian over here!”

Sasha kept guard, watching movement among the Ferasans at a table, seeing them shift in place. She expected to see Ctuuri appear, chained, beaten but alive, ready to be rescued by her, the two of them fighting their way to victory-

Something flew through the air in an arc, caught in Eukanna’s grip.

Oh God.

Oh God no please no please don’t be real don’t be real don’t be real-

Eukanna held up the bloodied brown tail at one end to his Pride, swinging it around lazily over his head like a toy. “He made a poor starter for our Feast, but the Kittens can play with this for a while, eh?”

His Pride roared with laughter. 

Sasha merely stared, feeling things within her shut down. Tan Ctuuri - father, husband, mentor, engineer, one of the bravest, kindest, most decent men she had even known - was dead. Dead because he had helped save Kohanim and her instead of himself. Dead because she was too slow to get back here. Dead because she failed him.

Dead because of these kussiks.

And she remembered her Oath:

I am Kaetini: a Warrior of the Great Mother.

I am Her Eyes, and I am Her Ears. 

I am Her Teeth, and I am Her Claws. 

I am Her Purr, and I am Her Roar. 

I will Defend the Living, and I will Avenge the Dead. 

And I will give my life to protect the Motherworld and Her people.

And now, she fully understood what those words meant. 

Sasha Hrelle, Lieutenant of Starfleet, Kaetini of the Caitian People, reached up, drew out her sword, clutched it with both hands and swung out towards Eukanna's neck, a part of her wondering how easily a head can be actually be separated from a body. 

As it turned out, with her blade’s nanosharpness and Arakanium durability, very, very easily.

Eukanna’s body let go of Ctuuri’s tail as the body lost contact with its head, dark wine-red blood spurting from the neck wound as it dropped to its knees, and then fell forward. 

The room went silent, except for Eukanna’s head, rolling through its own blood to stop by a table leg.

Sasha raised her blade, checking its integrity, finding it bloodstained… but undamaged, and ready for more. 

As was she.

“RIP HER TO PIECES!” one of them howled. 

The nearest ones charged towards her.

She spun and went into action, her years of training in related sword skills from Weynik, her friend Eydiir and her cousin C’Rash coming back to her, driven by a nova-hot righteous fury that suffused her arms, making her swing out, slicing open throats and hacking through arms, legs and tails, blood spraying around her, mixed with shrieks and cries that drove back the smarter ones to the walls of the main hall. 

Not that she would spare them today. 

Ferasans climbed onto tables to leap high towards her, only to find themselves sliced open with the tip of her blade, their guts dropping out of them like the contents of a broken sack, while she spun around, alternating slices with stabs now, not giving her prey a chance to anticipate her moves. She even picked up severed limbs and flung them around, or used them as additional weapons. 

Three of the Ferasans overturned a table to use as a shield, charging towards her.

She stopped in the centre of the blood-carpeted room, reached into her vest and drew out the gun she had checked out of the Ajax’s Armoury: a .666 Magnum ballistic pistol, a black monster with a thunderous roar and a kick that nearly made it fly out of her grip, its explosive, fragmentary bullet turning the table, and the three Ferasans behind it, to splinters.

Sasha spun in place, firing again and again, taking down handfuls of Ferasans at a time, the shots and the screams drowning out her own roar of primal rage.

She felt Ferasan bullets hit the back of her vest, the impacts travelling even through the armoured plates there, and she dropped and dove under a table, cutting open the legs of Ferasans in her way, using them as living shields when whoever brought in the pistols tried to follow her. 

Then there was more gunfire - but nothing was coming her way. Instead, more Ferasans were falling… but not by her hand. 

*

Weynik quickened his pace when he heard the cries, tightening his grip on the pistol, ready for anything. 

Except for what he found in the Main Hall.

There was his young Second Officer, her blonde hair shaved on one side, her scalp emblazoned with a red pawprint, performing a deadly ballet as she pirouetted around, wielding her Kaetini sword against literally dozens of surrounding Ferasans.

And making a literal bloody mess of them all.

Blood caked the walls and tables, and the floor was littered with corpses and severed limbs, the stench filling the air, and as the battle progressed, with the Ferasans at the perimeter of the lethal storm that was Sasha, Weynik saw the fury in her face, and knew the worst had happened to Ctuuri.

Sweet Hemra, Esek, what have I let your daughter become?

Several Ferasans at the edge of the slaughter overturned a table and carried it forward towards Sasha - only to find the table and themselves ripped apart by an explosive shot from a handgun Sasha produced. A handgun she used on more of them, regardless of whether or not they were actively attacking her.

This had to stop. Regardless of what happened to Ctuuri, she could not carry on like this. They had to go-

Ferasans swarmed in from another door, carrying firearms- Sasha wouldn't stand a chance.

Weynik drew his own weapon, aimed and fired repeatedly, bringing down the Ferasans shooting at Sasha.

The remaining Ferasans who could flee, fled, leaving only Sasha and Weynik, and Nauveh and the Jem’Hadar, who had their weapons aimed at the Starfleet officers. The room was silent, but for the moans of the maimed around her, and the Vorta rose to her feet. “Well… that escalated quickly.”

Weynik kept his weapon raised at them, as he carefully stepped over the bodies and body parts and approached Sasha, who had her own pistol aimed in their direction. “Lieutenant?”

She didn’t answer, didn’t look away from the remaining targets in the room.

Nauveh remained the picture of smug confidence. “I sincerely hope you have sated your desire for vengeance, young lady. If not, be advised that as quick as you and the redoubtable Captain Weynik might be with your weapons, my Jem’Hadar are at least as quick with theirs.”

“Lieutenant Hrelle,” Weynik repeated, following with a softer, “Sasha, their ships will be here in four minutes. We have to go. Don’t let the Major’s sacrifice be for nothing.”

Sasha started unblinking at the Vorta… before aiming her weapon to the ceiling. 

Weynik kept his eyes on the Jem’Hadar, but opened a channel. “Ajax, two to beam back, hurry!”

Nauveh smiled simperingly. “Victory is Life.”

“You’ll have neither,” Sasha declared. 

And fired shots into the transparent canopy overhead.

The Jem’Hadar fired energy bolts at them in response, but already the transporter beam had taken hold of Weynik and Sasha, slipping them into another quantum state. But Weynik could still see, see the bullets from Sasha’s gun shatter holes, the holes joining and multiplying into fragments that blew outwards into space, the explosive decompression taking the no-longer-smiling Vorta, the Jem'Hadar and the dead and dying Ferasans around them up into the void with a roar- 

-And then he was stepping down from the transporter platform, tapping his combadge. “Bridge! Get us out of here and back to the Fleet! Maximum Warp!” He felt the ship lurch and jump into warp almost immediately. 

Then he noted the Transporter Chief’s look of astonishment past Weynik.

He turned to see a blood-spattered Sasha standing there, the pistol dropping out of her left hand to hit the platform, but the sword remaining fixed in her right hand, shock and exhaustion calcifying her expression as she stared at nothing at all.

Weynik turned back to the Chief. “Wait outside. Nobody comes in here. Nobody. Understood?”

The Chief nodded. “Aye, Sir.”

Weynik watched the young Bolian depart, and turned back to his Second Officer, approaching her cautiously. “I’m so sorry about Major Ctuuri, Sash. He was a good, brave man. We could not have escaped without him.”

She swallowed, still staring at nothing as she responded in a hoarse voice, “I- I have to get a report to the Caitian Planetary Navy- inform them of his loss-”

“I’ll take care of that.”

“And- And the antiproton scanner the Dominion gave the Ferasans- the Caitians need to modify- modify the resonance frequencies-”

He reached out and took her hand, his voice gentle. “Sasha, it’s over. Stand down.”

His touch seemed to sap her remaining strength, and she sank to her knees. “He’s- He’s gone- I- I couldn’t save him- I was too late- too late...”

Her subsequent words collapsed into sobs, horrible raw sounds softened with Weynik’s hold around her.

*

Weynik kept his composure as he faced the two individuals on separate screens, but though he knew they were light-years apart in their respective headquarters, the tension between the two made him feel like one of them was ready to leap across and attack the other.

No guesses as to who would attack first. 

Admiral Ian Trenagan, Head of Starfleet Intelligence, with a head of swept-back snow-white hair, broad nose and Shakespearean style of speech, leaned back in his chair and regarded Weynik. “Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed in your performance, Captain.”

Weynik mirrored his pose. “Well, I can’t express how your disappointment makes me feel, Admiral.”

“You turned a simple reconnaissance mission into a crisis that almost cost you your ship, your crew and your life. And gained us nothing in terms of Intelligence.”

On the other screen, Fleet Captain Ma’Sala Shall grunted, the ink-furred older Caitian female offering a hint of fang. “You need to eat more prunes, Admiral, it’ll help with that constipated outlook of yours. The Ajax confirmed that a preliminary meeting was arranged between the Ferasans and the Dominion, that technology had already been exchanged… and that he escaped with his ship and crew intact, unlike the Black Talon.”

Trenagen’s face tightened with a barely-concealed contempt. “Such slovenliness of attitude may be acceptable in the Caitian Navy - and the Caitian Secret Services - but not in Starfleet. As for you, Captain, your report regarding the events onboard the Black Talon following your rescue is minimal to the point of non-existent. Particularly involving the actions of Lt Sasha Hrelle.”

Weynik saw how mention of the young woman’s name made Fleet Captain Shall bristle; he knew the Caitian was Sasha’s grandmother, of course, but so far it had not been overtly stated during this debriefing. “There really wasn’t much to tell, Admiral. Lt Hrelle sent a Security team to rescue myself and my other Bridge officers, and went in search of Major Ctuuri in the Main Hall of the Black Talon, she discovered he had been butchered by the Ferasans, and the situation... deteriorated. I arrived to assist her, we beamed away. End of story.”

Trenagan arched a white eyebrow. “Indeed? Because my own Intelligence reports indicate she took it upon herself to forget Starfleet protocol and challenge the Ferasan Pridemaster to a duel… with a sword… and then went on to slaughter him and half of his Pride.”

Weynik stared neutrally. Do you have a spy on my ship, you long stream of piss?

The Admiral continued. “Word has already spread among Ferasan channels about a Tailless Cub that ruthlessly invaded the Black Talon Prideship and nearly wiped out their entire line, along with the representatives from the Dominion. Given Lt Hrelle’s singular fixation on Caitians, one can only assume they are referring to her. Do we really need an unstable element like that in Starfleet?”

Weynik saw the angry reaction on Shall’s face to his words, but decided to speak first. “Admiral, with respect, I don’t give a damn what the Ferasans are gossiping about amongst themselves. They are a hostile power with a hostile history, and are seeking an alliance with our Enemy, and any mayhem they might have experienced, they brought down upon themselves.

As for Lt Hrelle, I have already given an account of the events on the Black Talon, and I am not prepared to offer anything further… except to reaffirm that she has my full and unconditional approval and support for all her actions on this mission. She is a superlative young officer, and I am extremely fortunate to have her under my command.”

Trenagan’s brow furrowed. “Well, if Lt Hrelle is as outstanding as you claim, perhaps her skills might be better employed at Starfleet Intelligence Headquarters?”

On her screen, Shall bared her teeth. “And perhaps you should just reconsider that very foolish notion?”

“If I wish for your advice, Madam, I will solicit it. You have no authority over Starfleet matters.”

The Caitian leaned in closer to her display camera, filling up the screen. “I believe we’ve already had a conversation about you interfering with my granddaughter’s career, Ian. My kin are under my protection… And the Mother’s Claws know where you sleep.”

Weynik kept still, as if the two individuals were in the same room with him – Bloody Hemra, she’s not just making idle threats - watching this tense interplay between people with an obviously long and contentious history.

Finally Trenagan focused on Weynik once more. “Captain, you and your crew will return to active duty with the Thirteenth Fleet with immediate effect.”

“I will, Admiral... once we’ve met the Caitian escort ship, and returned the Prowl… and Major Ctuuri’s possessions, to be forwarded to his next of kin. Fleet Captain Shall, I have included with them a letter of condolence, and a commendation for the Major. We could not have survived without his sacrifice. I understand Sasha is also writing to his wife and son.”

Shall nodded politely. “Thank you, Captain.”

Weynik turned back to Trenagen. “And Admiral, though most of my crew, including my First Officer, has recovered and returned to active duty, Lt Hrelle is on indefinite leave, and I will be delivering her to the Surefoot. She has worked tirelessly these last few months, and I find I have to push her into using up her accumulated leave.”

“Oh?” Trenagen asked archly. “And is that the only reason for her absence from duty, Captain?”

Weynik shrugged. “In my experience, a Caitian needs no reason to want to be with family. Even tailless Caitians.”

*

Sasha had started and stopped this message twelve times already. It took Lucky Thirteen to get the proverbial ball rolling, and now she didn’t dare stop. “I only knew Tan for a few days, in his capacity as the one who initiated me as a Kaetini… and from the start, he made an impression with me, with his compassion, his warmth, his patience and generosity. And with how often he spoke of his family, with love and pride. He made me feel like I knew you without ever having met you.”

Her expression sobered. “I’m not sure how much you will be allowed to know about the details of this mission, but I will say that, for what it might be worth, without his making a brave, selfless act, we would all have been killed, and an enemy of the Motherworld would have gained a new weapon we would not have been ready for.

His last words to me were a reminder of our responsibilities: ‘No one is born a Warrior of the Great Mother. You become one the moment you decide to act instead of staying still. You become one the moment you decide to speak instead of staying silent. You become one the moment you decide to rise instead of staying seated. You become one the moment you decide to fight instead of staying safe.’ He did not sacrifice himself without a thought to you both, because you never left his thoughts. He did what he did because of you both, and because of all the other partners and cubs out there who would be at risk without his taking action as he did.”

She paused. “C’Ria: your father was so proud of your skills as a writer, how you were able to reach your readers with the right choice of words, and the truth you put behind them. 

I lost my mother when I was younger than you, taken from me before I could ever tell her everything I wanted to say, before she could ever see me become the person I am. I had so much anger and rage and grief, and I kept it all to myself. 

Don’t make that mistake. Tell people how you feel. You have family and friends who will listen. And I will listen, too, should you wish to contact me. And if you don’t feel like talking, then write about it. Don’t keep it bottled up.

And know that if either of you need anything that I can provide, I will always be at your service-” She turned off the recording as her door chimed. “Enter.”

Madison stepped inside, smiling affably. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“No more than usual, Cuddles.” She moved to hug him, but then paused at his expression. “What’s up?”

His broad chiseled face flushed. “I thought you might have had your hair regrown, and those scars and that pawprint removed, by now. But it looks like you’ve taken even more hair off.”

She reached up, playing with the edge of the thick mohawk cut she had made of what was left of her hair, balancing out what she had lost on her right side. “I had considered restoring myself to look the way I did before. And no one would ever know what I went through. Except me. Things have changed for me, because of my becoming a Kaetini, because of what happened with the Ferasans. I want to show that change.” She grinned. “Every girl is entitled to a new look, am I right?”

Madison made a sound of apparent agreement. He tried. He really tried. 

And she sighed, half expecting this, and feeling nothing but sympathetic to him. “Jim… I’m complicated. I know I am. I have issues that I still have to work through… but I know that I will work through them. 

But I also know that if you’re looking for nothing more than some fun and games, then I’m definitely gonna be more than you signed up for. If that’s the case, and you want to stop… whatever it is we have going here... I’ll understand completely, and won’t hold it against you. Not even when I forward your performance reports to Starfleet Command. Probably.”

Madison regarded her, smirking. “Well… no one can accuse you of being boring.”

“Very true.”

His smirk blossomed into a smile. “Why don’t we wait and talk about it when you get back from visiting your family?”

“Sure.”

They stood awkwardly there for a heartbeat, before Sasha launched herself into his arms, feeling him embrace her back, touch her neck

[she tasted his blood sharp tangy felt her fingers dig into his eye sockets scooping out his eyeballs he screamed into her ear deafening pumping blood God God God]

She pulled back, composed herself, her breath quickening. “S-Sorry- a little jumpy-”

“No, no, I understand. I, ah, gotta go. See you before we get to the Surefoot, okay?”

“Okay.” She shooed him away, trying to sound facetious, but failing miserably.

Alone again, the feelings were building up inside her. The pain she suffered. The pain she inflicted. The sounds of the guns and the screams and the smell of flesh and blood and and and-

She thought of returning to her Pummels and her punching bag, before settling for a round of Kaetini mantras and exercise movements. They helped. And helped without causing herself injury.

And on a whim afterwards, she returned to her desk and activated a new recording protocol. “Message for Inclusion in the Kaetini Archives, Temple of K’Gressir, Mrell Province, Planet Cait.

Message Follows:

‘My name is Sasha Hrelle, of Clan Shall, a Lieutenant on a ship in Starfleet. I was born of human parents from Earth, but from an early age the Great Mother led me on a path that has brought me here, to become the first non-Caitian Kaetini of this esteemed Order. It is an inestimable honor and responsibility I am still trying to fully understand, let alone accept my worthiness to hold. 

I don’t feel worthy right now, as the following account of recent actions will illustrate. But my mentor, my brother Kaetini, Tan Ctuuri, a kind and brave husband and father who paid the ultimate price for expressing the beliefs and ideals we all share, once told me that a Kaetini who calls himself Hero is no Kaetini.

And as much as I want to make some grand, dramatic gesture and send back my sword to the Temple… I won’t. If I’m not worthy now, I want to be.

And I will be...’

THE ADVENTURES OF THE SUREFOOT WILL CONTINUE IN... SMALL MERCIES