Welcome to my website, detailing the adventures of Captain Esek Hrelle, his family, and the crew and cadets of his starship, the USS Surefoot. These stories are set in the 2360-70s, the Next Generation/DS9/Voyager Era.

When I wrote the first story, The Universe Had Other Plans, in the far off distant year of 2016, I never intended it to be a "first" story of anything. It was meant to be a one-off, a means of helping me fight writer's block on another project. I am amazed and delighted that it has taken on a life of its own, with an extended family of characters, places, ships and events.

The column on the right hand side groups the stories chronologically by significant events in Captain Hrelle's life (such as the command of a new Surefoot), as well as major events in the Star Trek timeline. The column on the left hand side lists reference articles, one-off stories, and a link to stories set on the USS Harken, a ship from decades before but with ties to the Surefoot Universe.

The universe of Star Trek belongs to CBS/Paramount; all of the original characters here belong to me. There is no explicit sexual content, but there are instances of profanity, violence and discussions of adult subject matters and emotional themes; I will try to offer warnings on some of the stories, but sometimes I forget.

I love comments (I don't get paid for this, sadly), so feel free to write and let me know what you think!

Monday 27 April 2020

Deep Six



USS Triton, Undisclosed Location

Deck 1 Fore – Admiral’s Ready Room:

Tattok sat motionless, staring at the scrolling lists of names. The names of everyone he killed.

Hundreds of them. He could never possibly remember them all.

The voice of the Commander-in-Chief, coming from the viewscreen beside him, was a distant thing. But it was unignorable. “Tattok… shut that off. Please. It will not serve you. Or them. Or any of us.”

The Roylan remained motionless, before accepting the logic behind the entreaty. He replaced the names with a visual of the remains of the Thirteenth Fleet, assembled around a newly-arrived mobile repair spacedock and tugs delivering huge containers of supplies, spare parts, and temporary facilities for hospital and billeting needs. In the outskirts of this assembly, the Triton and other ships stood guard, watching for the enemy… and for those other members of their Fleet not here yet. “You’re right, Sir. Please excuse me.”

There is nothing to excuse; what you suffered in Khavak was terrible-”

Tattok set aside his urge to wallow in self-recrimination, letting his anger surface. “What we suffered in Khavak wasn’t just terrible, it was avoidable! That is, it would have been, if we had received useful intelligence from Trenagen and his spies!”

The Commander-in-Chief, an older Vulcan male with ash-grey hair that only hinted in flecks at the original colour, raised an eyebrow. “As I understand it from the reports, the Dominion forces had altered the data your tactical probes were transmitting back to you, obfuscating their true numbers and strength.”

“Yes,” Tattok admitted. “They did. But their false data supported the advance data supplied by Starfleet Intelligence! Had discrepancies not been spotted by Captain Hrelle minutes before we arrived, we would have been completely unprepared! I want to speak with Trenagen!”

The C-in-C’s image shifted. “I will be speaking with Admiral Trenagen personally later today, to receive a full explanation as to the failings of his department. I suggest you focus on recovery. Logistics are looking to reassign equivalent vessels to replace those lost or irreparably damaged in battle. The Klingons have a squadron in the neighbouring Perigord system, currently mobilising to strike at the Dominion forces in Khavak.”

Tattok sat up, eyestalks focusing intently on the screen. “The Klingons can’t handle them, Sir, believe me!”

Perhaps, Tattok, but historically it has always been an exercise in futility to attempt to dissuade Klingons from engaging in battle. However, we are arming them with your battle data, which might provide them with an advantage.”

“I wish them well.”

The Vulcan regarded him. “The Fleet ships reported Missing In Action-”

“They’re not MIA,” he corrected quickly, just as quickly annexing with, “The Ajax and the Surefoot remained behind to collect the last of the battle survivors and wounded. My son and Captain Hrelle are both highly experienced commanding officers. They know what they’re doing, and where we are.”

The C-in-C nodded; even a Vulcan could tell he had struck a proverbial nerve. “Of course, Admiral, of course; I should leave you to see to your Fleet.” The Vulcan paused, and then noted, “Starfleet has been suffering heavy losses on many fronts in this War; the Dominion may prove to be more of a threat than the Borg. You have no cause for self-recrimination. Nor do you have the luxury. None of us who shoulder our burdens of responsibility do. Peace and Long Life, Tattok.”

Tattok nodded. “Live Long and Prosper, Sir.”

The screen went blank.

Tattok picked up his PADD, determined to immerse himself fully in his work… and not think about the losses they had suffered, the mistakes he had made… and those still out there, still-

His intercom chimed; aware that his people knew not to disturb him now unless it was critical, he responded swiftly with, “Yes?”

Sir, the Ajax is on extreme sensor range, and is hailing us!”

Tattok straightened up fully, his pulse racing. His son was alive! “What about the Surefoot?”

No sign of them yet, Sir. I’ll put Captain Weynik’s transmission through to you.”

Then the nearest viewscreen came to life with the image of his son, looking haggard and taut as a wire, but at least he was still breathing. “Weynik… seeing you is the best thing that has happened today.”

Same here, Dad. What’s the status of the Fleet?”

Tattok stiffened, knowing the answers already, but hardly wanting to express them. “Ten vessels lost. 1,452 confirmed dead. Where’s Hrelle and the Surefoot?”

They were experiencing engine problems, so we had to divert the enemy away to give them a chance to escape. I take it your question means you haven’t heard from them?”

“Nothing yet.”

Weynik nodded. “As soon as we get there, we’ll need priority to get refuelled, rearmed and recrewed, and then head out again to find them and bring them home. I know their most probable alternate route.”

“Of course. Get here safe and soon, son.” The screen blackened again, leaving Tattok with just a faint reflection of his head on the screen. He had almost belayed his son’s plans; there was every possibility that the Dominion would still track them down here to finish off what they had started in Khavak. On the other hand, the Surefoot was alone, ferrying home perhaps hundreds of survivors, the Fleet needed some small victory today…

And Tattok needed Hrelle and his tactical expertise reassigned to him directly, permanently, instead of being wasted on an ambulance ship, no matter how much he might protest.

*

USS Surefoot-A,

Deck 2 Fore, Captain’s Ready Room:

“Captain’s Log, Stardate 51180.4, Captain Esek Hrelle, Recording: We have regained control of my ship from the Dominion boarders during the Battle of Khavak, and have Jem’Hadar and Cardassian POWs in our Brig. 

But our victory has come at a terrible cost: crewmembers are dead, including my Chief Engineer and Assistant Chief Engineer, my Assistant Security Chief and three Security crewmen, and a Medical crewmen, and twenty more have been wounded, physically and psychologically… and I’m not even counting those evacuees we rescued but who have subsequently been killed or wounded in the attack on my ship.

We are alone behind enemy lines, keeping as low a profile as possible as we make our way to rendezvous with the remains of the Thirteenth Fleet. Our current ETA is five days, and with the additional numbers onboard, we’ll be struggling to maintain life support, rations, medical and hygiene facilities for that time.

I have appointed my daughter Lt Sasha Hrelle as Second Officer until Lt Neheru recovers, and our former cadets Lt Jonas Ostrow and Ensign Neraxis Ostrow will fill in as Engineering and Security Chiefs, respectively. Sasha has also recommended people from the Ajax, Lt Jim Madison and Chief Helga Maryk, to assist, and I will be meeting shortly with representatives from the evacuees to update them on the situation.

My First Officer Commander T’Varik, who had been instrumental in stopping a Jem’Hadar attack on the Bridge, is now checking on the status of the Sickbays and Sickbay Teams, my Chief Helm Officer Lt Velkovsky has taken on the unenviable task of clearing away the bodies… and the residue… and my wife and Ship’s Counselor is in the Shuttlebay coordinating the evacuees… alongside her new Protector, my son.

[Sigh] My stomach has twisted into a wormhole over how close my family came to being hurt, or worse. I would prefer that they all remain in our quarters for the duration of this crisis, after all that has happened today. But my wife and my older daughter are as much Starfleet as I am, with duties and responsibilities. We need them. As for my son… Misha is embracing his self-appointed task, having stood up to half a dozen Jem’Hadar to save his mother… and oblivious to how easily he could have been added to the casualty list.

Kami is keeping Misha with her, until our nanny Jhess is back on his feet. She says Misha’s using his role as a cloak, a source of strength and security to help deal with the trauma of today.

He won’t be the only one in that position. Many will continue to suffer for a long time to come-

[Wince] And I need to get myself to Sickbay to deal with my own injuries. Just as soon as we’re out of this mess… assuming my wife doesn’t catch me out first... [Wince]-”

A soft musical sound caught his attention, and he glanced to his right. “Hmm?”

Sreen sat in her carrier pouch strapped securely to his shoulder, the infant gazing at her father with big bronze eyes, and serenading him with a lullaby of her own creation, made of trills and babbles and notes.

Her father’s heart melted for the thousandth time since his Princess was born, and his voice cracked a little as he murmured, “Are you singing to me? Trying to make me feel better?” He set aside his PADD, reached up and stroked the side of her furred, stubby muzzle, making her purr now. “Thank you, Sweetheart, it’s working wonderfully. And I look forward to being in the front row of your first concert on Cait.”

*

Deck 4 Mid – Post-Operative Recovery Suite:

Lt Giles Arrington guided the antigrav gurney along, having quickly picked up the best way to keep control of it when turning the corners without disturbing the patient onboard.

Ahead of him, Assistant Chief Nurse Eydiir Daughter-of-Kaas led the way. “Over here, Bed 19 has been allocated.”

Giles followed her, glancing around at the rows of biobeds, filled with wounded too serious to be left unattended, but not too serious to require immediate or continued attention in the Sickbays. He remembered when he was a cadet onboard, and this was set aside as billeting for relief crews being transported out to the Cardassian border, when the Surefoot served as a tender vessel before taking on ambulance duties… a thousand years ago, it felt like.

“Giles,” Eydiir prompted, standing there waiting for him to help her shift the patient onto the biobed.

“Oh, sorry.” He brought his mind back to the here and now, nodding and guiding the gurney out to collect the next one, glad for the distraction from his thoughts-

“Wait.” The dark-skinned Capellan woman drew up to him. “Since we’re here, and there’s the appropriate equipment, we can do a better scan of your brain.”

He stiffened. Since waking up, it had felt like his head had been scrambled in a transporter. Eydiir claimed that Sakuth had mindmelded with him in response to his panicking on the Bridge of the Cooper before they evacuated. He…. He could neither confirm nor deny it. It was all a melange of memories. And he wasn’t prepared to dwell on it, not now. “It’s okay, Eydiir. It can wait-”

But she had a firm grip on his forearm, leading him over to an alcove offering partial privacy for specific diagnostic procedures, where a stern-looking Andorian female in Medical Blue glanced up. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Giles assured her. “I was just going-”

“-To stay and be scanned,” Eydiir finished, nodding to the Andorian. “This is Doctor Shyrik. Doctor, this is Lt Arrington, he’s the victim of a telepathic assault from a Vulcan.”

He felt himself flush, shaking his head. “You- You don’t know that-”

“She admitted as much to us, Giles. Tried to claim you panicked while in battle.”

What?” No. No, he couldn’t believe that he would- he would-

The Capellan raised her chin. “A lie, of course. The woman is suffused with deception.”

“A Vulcan?” Shyrik’s antenna bent down and pointed in Eydiir’s direction. “That’s a serious accusation, Nurse. I can’t believe a Vulcan would commit such an unethical act.”

“You haven’t met Captain Sakuth yet.” She pushed Giles towards her. “We’ll need proof for her court martial.”

He tried to shake off his friend’s grip, feeling overwhelmed by it all. “Look, I’ll deal with this in my own way-”

But now Shyrik manoeuvred him to a cranial scanner. “And your way will be to follow medical orders, Lieutenant-”

“NO!” He stepped back, facing the two women but focusing on Eydiir. “This isn’t the old days when we were in Alpha Squad! You can’t bully and intimidate me into doing what you want anymore!” Then he looked at Shyrik. “Doctor, under Starfleet Security Directive 137.1, as an operative for Starfleet Intelligence, I’m refusing any invasive mnemonic or neurological scans! So, both of you: back off!”

Eydiir regarded him, and then drew closer, her body language and tone softer now. “Giles… you’re right, and I’m sorry. If I am brusque with you, it comes from anger. Anger that a mountebank like Sakuth has harmed a good friend of mine. I care for few in this life… but you are one of those few.” When she rested a hand on him again, it was gentle, reassuring. “Please, let us help you.”

He looked to each of them in turn… and recognised the anger, and the fear, that his own condition left him. What did Sakuth do? Why? She had been avoiding him since he awoke from unconsciousness... and he had to admit,  he had no desire to seek her out. 

He nodded, drawing closer again. “Don’t suppose I can keep fighting you two.”

Shyrik grunted. “That’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard from you, Lieutenant.”

*

At the far end of the Suite, Commander T’Varik took note of their conversation for future reference, but stood by one particular bedside, arms folded behind her, her face a calm, serene mask, obfuscating the Vulcan’s inner desire to embrace the black-furred Caitian female lying there, settling for the observation, “It is not displeasing to find you alive, Lieutenant.”

C’Rash was on her side, her breath sounded clouded from having her lungs repaired following explosive decompression, her tail slipping out from under her sheet and her pointed ears twitching. “Will you calm down already? There’s no need to go into hysterics.” But she reached out with her paw, taking her partner’s hand.

In the biobed next to her, a spotted male Caitian, also on his side to accommodate his tail, looked at them and smiled, his own voice croaky. “I am grief-stricken at this display of affection, considering what we once shared, Darling.”

T’Varik became self-conscious, not as much with the expected banter from the Hrelles’ nanny, but with the activity within the Sickbay, as medical staff moved briskly about. She released her hold on C’Rash and turned to him. “Dr Furore, I thank you for your efforts in saving the life of my partner. I am in your debt; let me know if there is anything I can do for you.”

Jhess Furore smiled, appearing moved by her words, but still managed to maintain an air of jocularity, “I don’t suppose you’d consider divorcing Jinx here and finally marrying me? You know what the humans used to say about black cats and bad luck?”

C’Rash hissed, but T’Varik merely raised an eyebrow. “I am aware of the superstition. However, my interaction with this particular black cat has proved only highly fortuitous. As for any partnership with you, it is perhaps for the best that it not be considered. Given my personal sexual preferences, you would be required to sacrifice more than you are most likely prepared to do.”

Jhess’ ears twitched and his eyes widened… then he peeked under his sheet, looking across at C’Rash and quipping, “You can have her.”

*

Deck 4 Aft – Main Engineering:

Jonas had to make an effort to not look in the direction of the remains of the Chief Engineer’s Office… without looking like he was making an effort.

Velkovsky’s bioremediation team, and the Surefoot’s little sanitation drones, were quick and efficient, cleaning up the biological remains of the Jem’Hadar and Cardassian invaders. But the broken walls and furniture, the disruptor burns on the walls and floors… the haunted looks on the faces of the crew around him... those lingered, and he knew it would, for a long time to come.

He immersed himself in his work, in the minutiae of duties endemic to Sabre-class vessels, and tried not to think of all the fun times he’d had here with Grev and Nancy-

He stopped to regard the young human female standing staring at a blank screen. He remembered the briefing from when he arrived back here to take on responsibility here: Tori Emoto, one of the latest cadets, a member of the current Alpha Squad… and the one who had been grabbed by those filthy Cardassians, before being rescued by that massive Security cadet who looks too much like a Terran hippo walking on his hind legs. He approached, slowly, seeing something familiar in her expression, and not wanting to startle or intimidate her. “Excuse me? Ms Emoto, isn’t it?”

She looked up, blinking, looking lost and anxious. “What do you want?”

He lowered his hands, opened his palms, recalling the studies he had with Kami on body language and dealing with post-traumatic stress. “Call me Jonas. It’s Tori, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Why?”

He smiled, knowing that defensive reaction all too well. “Because I hate getting people’s names wrong. I had an Engineering instructor at the Academy, a Zaldan who used to call me everything but my actual name: Johnny, Jonah, Judas, Judy-”

She blinked. “You mean Lieutenant Commander Orrik?”

Jonas’ smile widened. “You know him?”

She grunted, rolling her eyes. “He used to call me Tony, Toadie, Taurus-”

He chuckled. “I’m pretty sure he did it on purpose, just to see if any cadet would be brave enough to correct him. I wasn’t one of them, though.” He paused and offered, “Listen, Tori, you’ve been through a lot today in here, so why don’t you take a break, grab something to eat-”

“I can do my job!” she protested sharply.

“I never said you couldn’t, but under the circumstances a change of surroundings can be a big help-”

“I don’t need to go anywhere, Lieutenant!” she practically shouted in his face when she drew up to him.

Jonas was about to step back and give her some space to calm down... when a huge blue-grey hand clamped – well, completely enveloped – his shoulder and spun him around, and he looked up into the broad muzzle of Urad Kaldron. “Excuse me, Comrade Lieutenant, but what do you think you’re doing with my squadmate?”

Up close, Jonas took in the mass of muscle and the thickened hide of the pachydermoid, whose race name eluded him, noted the disruptor burns on the exposed portions of his arms and the attempt to intimidate a superior officer… and ignored him, shaking off the hand, turning and facing Tori again. “Ensign Emoto, we’re going to be overworking the food and industrial replicators in the next couple of days, even if they’re set to produce only the most basic rations and supplies to make the base materials last longer. I want an inventory of spare parts from the Stores on Deck 5, and at least three sets of portable tool kits ready for us to pick up once the inevitable calls come in. If you’re not up to the task-”

“I can do it!” she snapped, quickly adding, “Sir!” Then she stomped away.

Kaldron started to follow her, but Jonas reached up and put a hand on the tree trunk that was posing as the Security cadet’s arm. He stopped, though he obviously didn’t have to if he didn’t want to. “Release me, Comrade Sir, or-”

“Or what? You’ll get yourself in trouble, and not be around for your friend the next time she might really need you?”

Kaldron faced him. “You do not understand, you were not here, you do not know what almost happened-”

“No, I wasn’t here, but I was briefed. I do know. And I do understand. Better than you might think.”

Despite his formidable size and presence, there was a touching, telling uncertainty in Kaldron’s response to Jonas’ words… as well as an undeniable protective affection for his friend. “You are trying to dismiss her-”

“No. I was trying to give her a break from here. This area is full of psychological and emotional triggers, for her, for all of you: the place where Chief Grev and Nancy were killed... the place where the Cardassians grabbed her, tried to hurt her… the place where you and the other cadets fought back, killing and wounding… and don’t try to tell me you’re not affected by what you did, either.”

Kaldron bristled, but raised his chin up. “You- You do not understand, you are only an Engineer-”

“I’ve killed, Mr Kaldron. And I’ve been wounded. You don’t believe me, ask my wife, your current Security Chief. All of you will be affected by being in here, but we can’t afford to shut everything down. We have work to do. But I promise you, I’ll watch out for your friend. Deal?”

He made a sound of consideration, before nodding, his eyes widening and deepening with sorrow. “Forgive me, Comrade Lieutenant. I am… I failed in my duty to protect her… to protect the Chief, and Ensign Yeager-”

Jonas raised a hand to cut him off. “I told you I was briefed, by Captain Hrelle himself, when he asked me to take over here. He assured me that there was nothing anyone could do to save either of them. As for your friend, she’s been shaken… but far worse could have happened to her, if you and the others hadn’t taken action when you did. These uniforms don’t guarantee our safety; in fact, they have the opposite effect. But they do guarantee that we can depend on each other.”

*

Deck 3 Mid – Security Suite:

Neraxis was undergoing an inventory of the support equipment when she heard the noise coming once more from the Brig. Seconds later, Travers appeared at the doorway. “Lieutenant...”

The Bolian grunted, still not used to the promotion from the Captain, even if it was just temporary. “Yeah, yeah, I hear them. I’ll be right out.”

She took her time. Not too much. Just enough to show that she wasn’t jumping to the beck and call of prisoners. She stopped and ran a hand over her bald blue head, remembering the time when she had lost her nerve as a Security cadet, and she had practically hidden herself away in here, wanting nothing more than to go back home to Mama and her brothers and sisters on Bolarus. But her former superior officer Lieutenant Shall had supported her unquestioningly, as did Captain Hrelle. Without them, she wouldn’t be where she was today.

Then, with a smirk, she realised that ‘where she was today’ was, physically at least, the exact same place she was four years ago.

Neraxis strode out through the security screens into the main Suite, where the Brig cells lined one wall, their invisible walls doing nothing to stifle the din from the Cardassians standing there, banging their fists rhythmically against the force fields, the feedback overwhelmed by the chanting of the soldiers. She slipped on her most no-nonsense expression as she faced them. “Enough! Any more noise and I’ll have anesthizine pumped in there!”

The Cardassian closest to her, with insignia she recognised denoted him with the junior officer rank of Glinn, sneered at her. “Do not attempt to bluff me, girl. Starfleet has rules about the treatment of their prisoners.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “You’ll find the Surefoot isn’t like other Starfleet vessels. And don’t call me ‘girl’, Dickhead.”

The Glinn made a sound. “Regardless of the singular properties of this paltry little craft of yours, there are certain expectations all vessels share. For one thing, prisoners have a right to medical treatment, sustenance, and entertainment facilities.”

She made a sound. She had been given a report from Zir Dassene, that these Cardassians were part of a larger group in Engineering who had tried to rape one of the Engineering cadets. That he was standing here now, trying to make demands, was as good an illustration of Cardassian arrogance as any she had ever encountered. “You and your friends have received the minimal medical attention required to keep you alive. Meals will be later. As for entertainment, I suggest banging your heads against the wall to see how long it takes for you to pass out. Anything else, Dickhead?”

He reined up, his grey skin darkening. “I am Glinn Drurocc, Bolian. You will demonstrate the respect due to me.”

Neraxis nodded at that. “Anything else, Dickhead?”

She waited for another sneer and masculine display. Instead, he glanced at his fellow Cardassians, and then past them, to the Jem’Hadar, before looking back at her, lowering his voice. “You need to move my men and myself into the other Brig. Away from them.”

Neraxis frowned, glancing over at the Jem’Hadar, who stood motionless together against the far wall, looking at nothing, saying nothing, fully disarmed but looking fully ready to kill everyone and everything around them. She had in fact intended to divide the numbers up, once they had the time and personnel to do so without risk. “What’s happened, lover’s spat? I thought you were all one big happy Dominion?”

“You don’t understand,” Drurocc intoned dangerously. “The Dominion keep the Jem’Hadar in control through the use of a drug called Ketracel White. It’s their source of nutrition, and a source of an enzyme they need to keep them alive.” He leaned closer, until the invisible field separating him from Neraxis began to crackle a warning. “They’re going to run out of the dosage given them before we boarded your vessel. And when it does...”

“Yeah?”

“They will suffer, and they will die. But not before they go insane, attacking and killing everyone they can. Even each other. And more importantly, us.”

Neraxis stepped back, frowning. Was it possible? She read the same Security reports as everyone else about the Jem’Hadar, but had not heard about this… though she supposed they’re hardly likely to advertise such weaknesses to their enemies. “I’ll pass on your concerns.” She looked at the Jem’Hadar once more, and shifted down to approach their side of the cell. “Which one of you is in charge?”

None of them responded, or even made a show of acknowledging her, though she saw their eyes flicker briefly in her direction.

She indicated Drurocc. “Is it true, what he says about you?”

Still no response.

“They won’t speak,” Drurocc informed her from his side of the cell. “They are disgraced for being captured alive, and being deprived of the chance to die honourably for their Founders. Still, give them a few hours in here, and you’ll see a response.” He sneered. “You should have that anesthizine ready, Bolian. Or maybe you should just kill them outright. It would certainly be more merciful.”

Before she could respond to that, the intercom chirped, and Sasha’s voice announced, “Lieutenant Neraxis Ostrow: there is a senior staff meeting scheduled for 1500 Hours in the Main Conference Room. Please acknowledge.”

Neraxis tapped her combadge. “Acknowledged. Lt Ostrow out.” She looked to Drurocc. “Like I said, I’ll pass on your concerns. In the meantime, shut up and play nice.”

*

Deck 4 Fore – Shuttlebay:

Kami and Misha Hrelle, both washed and changed into new uniforms, walked hand in hand into something more akin to a convention hall than a utilitarian part of their ship: scores of evacuees congregated in large groups, or lined up to the hastily-constructed hygiene stations and replicators, while Surefoot crewmen and cadets worked to ensure evacuees were updated with news about their wounded colleagues.

Misha’s hold on his mother’s hand tightened. “Mama?”

She smelled the fear from him, and let her thumb swivel to stroke his hand back. “It’s okay, Sweetheart. There’s no enemy here.”

He nodded at that. “You no be afraid. I’m here.”

“Thank you, Cub of Mine. I feel better knowing that.”

“Respected Counselor? Respected Offspring?”

Kami beamed. “Kit?”

Misha let go of her and rushed up to Kitirik, leaping up and embracing the reptoid Science Officer, as he approached Kami. “It is wonderful to see you both, alive and well!”

Kami hugged him, taking the infectious and genuine warmth of the young officer like a respite from the horrors of the day. “And you, young man.” She poked him gently in the stomach. “You should cut down on the grasshoppers.”

His throat wattles flushed purple with embarrassment. “I fear you might be correct, Respected Ma’am. Though the events of the day have given me much exercise-”

A screech at his feet made the Caitians jump, and Misha leapt back to his feet to stare with wonder at the small dust-brown bird strutting around Kit’s legs, pecking futilely at the bulkhead. “What’s that?”

“This is Chester, a Deltan sand peacock I rescued from the Iberia.” He paused as the bird made a noise and extended its tailfeathers into a fan. “Consider yourselves intimidated by his display. Like myself, he could do with a bit of exercise, before he is secured in his cage; they are flightless, and like to run. Perhaps young Misha would care to indulge?”

Misha brightened… but then sobered up. “No. I protect Mama. It’s my job.”

Kami knelt down beside him. “Sweetheart, you can have some fun, you’re still just a cub-”

“No! I stay with you!”

She stroked his fur, calming him down. Great Mother, what was she thinking? All the times she argued with Esek about them staying onboard, despite the dangers they could have faced? Her son could have died! She could have died!

When her tail began slapping against her leg in anxiety, she focused, calmed down, stood up again and looked to Kit. “And how are we doing here?”

He glanced around. “The most seriously wounded have been attended to, Respected Counselor, and are either in one of the Sickbays or convalescing in the Auxiliary Barracks on Deck 4, but there are many here still with minor injuries.”

She nodded, following his gaze, seeing the Engineering crew at one of the Shuttlebay doors, having brought in Sasha’s shuttle and were now repairing the breach in the door, its invisible force field obviously up in place, or there would be a repeat of the earlier disaster. “I’ll see about bringing in additional medical teams with portable kits.”

“And perhaps, if I may be so bold, you might wish to speak with Best Friend Giles?”

Kami looked to him again. “Giles? As in Giles Arrington? He’s here?”

Kit nodded, scanning the crowds now for him. “Like myself, an evacuee of the Battle of Khavak. He was assigned as First Officer to the James Fenimore Cooper… under Captain Sakuth.”

Kami tensed at the mention of the name of the Starfleet Intelligence operative who had caused so much grief to them in the past. “And why do you think I should speak with him?”

“Best Friend Giles was brought onboard unconscious, with medical evidence of having undergone telepathic activity; Captain Sakuth claimed she had done it when he panicked in the midst of battle and needed to be calmed down. Best Friend Eydiir does not trust her account, however.”

“Nor would I. Thank you, Kit, I’ll keep an eye out for him.” She had wanted to find him, but was distracted by an anxious-looking young human female with a number of children Misha’s age and older. She approached them. “Hello, I’m Counselor Kami Hrelle, may I help you, Ensign…?”

The short, slim woman with shiny jet hair and Asian features straightened up and looked at her gratefully. “Shirley Vinh, one of the Counselors from the Vancouver.”

Kami smiled. “A pleasure to have a fellow professional onboard. I didn’t know that we had picked up survivors of the Vancouver as well?”

“Yes, I haven’t been able to find anyone else from our ship here. I was hoping to meet up with the shuttle pilot who rescued us, Ensign Meow Rrori. Do you know where he is?”

Kami’s heart skipped; in the aftermath of their victory against the boarders, Esek had informed her of Rrori’s sacrifice, in getting his evacuees to the Surefoot before his shuttle suffered whatever problems it had been experiencing… but without being able to save himself. It had been a sad end to his story, one of countless others today.

And her reaction obviously told Vinh enough. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I knew Mr Rrori since he was a cadet; he served aboard this ship before he graduated.” She looked at the half-dozen children in her care, children who had no one here that they knew. “Why don’t all of you come to our quarters? We have a bath and shower, a storage unit with some fresh food and juice, and cartoons. I mean, assuming there’s anyone here who likes Power Cat-”

Vinh’s charges stepped up enthusiastically, making sounds of agreement. Misha looked ready to join them… but then remembered his promise, and reluctantly adopted a stern, professional stance again.

*

On the deck directly below, Doctor Kline knelt near a large, uneven mound of hardened, oatmeal-coloured Securifoam sealant, the Klingon passing his tricorder over the edges.

Nearby, Science cadet Niles Angstrom paced nervously, running his long, slender fingers through his curly blonde hair. Beside him, Zir Dassene leaned against a wall, focused on Kline’s activities, not wanting to question him, but still concerned. “Excuse me, Doctor-”

He never looked up from his tricorder. “What do you want, Ghu?”

Niles glanced at her, mouthing Ghu?

She mouthed back Baby and faced Kline again. “Doctor, we asked you down here to check on my friend and squadmate. Ever since Stalac was wounded up in the Shuttlebay and ended up down here, and he was covered in that stuff to protect him-”

“I know all that already, Ghu,” Kline grunted absently.

Zir breathed in, mentally counting to Ten. Kline was an intimidating presence to the cadets, and even Zir was uneasy having to deal with him. But the events of the day – the battle, the firefight in Engineering, her having to kill – were taking their toll on her. “We’re worried about Stalac. How long will he be in there? Does he need help? Is he even alive?”

“Hmm? Yes, yes, Ghu.” Kline chuckled to himself. “He’s a fascinating specimen.”

That did it. She strode up to him, grabbed him by the shoulder and straightened him up – ignoring the half-metre height advantage he had over her – and placed one hand on the phaser on her belt, her face taut with fury. “He’s not a specimen! He’s my best friend! And if you’d better start giving me some answers, and some respect, or it’ll be my boot up your ass!”

Kline regarded her… and laughed. “Good for you! I have heard of your victory in Engineering! We will down some bloodwine when this is over!”

“Never mind that! What about Stal?”

The Klingon grunted again… and began stomping the heel of his right boot against the Securifoam, chipping it with each strike.

“Hey!” Zir shouted. “Cut that out, right now!”

He complied and stepped back, as the mound began smoking. Kline chuckled. “My readings say he’s fine, he just needed to be awakened. You should step back, too.”

Zir and Niles complied, the three of them watching as the Securifoam cracked and crumbled, the smell of the material burning filling the air, until finally a rumble heralded the appearance of a large, low, irregularly-shaped brown-orange figure not too dissimilar to the silicon-based material he had emerged from. He rotated in place, the combadge/translator bolted to one side facing the carbon-based lifeforms appearing damaged, but not enough to keep him from speaking. “Z-Zir? Are you- Am I- where-”

She dropped to one knee before her best friend, tears of relief pouring unabated down her olive-skinned face, as she rested her open hands on his surface, feeling the heat and pulsating life beneath his fibrous rocky shell. “Shh, Stal. Take it easy. You have some catching up to do...”

*

Deck 2 Fore – Conference Room:

The air grew thick with mingling scents as Sasha escorted the guests from the Shuttlebay to take seats opposite the Surefoot officers – and his two cubs – and his hackles rose as the guests included a former, unwelcome visitor to his ship, as Captain Sakuth led the rear.

Hrelle fought down another wave of pain in his gut from his wounds as he felt the tension rise among his own people: Sasha, Kami, the cubs, even T’Varik, though he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at that last. She may have been a Vulcan, but she was still profoundly affected by past events. “Please, all of you, sit, this won’t take long.”

As they complied, he continued. “As senior ranking officers from your respective ships, you will be representing your fellow survivors from the Lynx, Dragonheart, Iberia, Cochise, Vancouver and the James Fenimore Cooper. Captain Sakuth, I believe only you and Lt Arrington arrived here from your former vessel; as there are no officers above the rank of Ensign from the Vancouver and Cochise, I would appreciate you providing information and support to them.”

The Vulcan female nodded. “Of course, Captain.”

Across the table from her, Misha was standing there, arms folded across his chest, growling under his breath, until Hrelle set a hand on his shoulder. In her mother’s arms, Sreen hissed openly at Sakuth.

“You’ll have to excuse my cubs, Captain,” Kami informed Sakuth, purring to the infant. “They’re excellent judges of character.”

“Forgive me, Counselor,” Nathan Price, former Captain of the Lynx, eyed the cubs warily as he spoke up. “But is there a reason these children are present?”

“Yes, Captain,” Hrelle answered for his wife. “Because I want them to be here. Shall we proceed?” He looked to his right, to Sasha. “Lieutenant Hrelle?”

Sasha nodded and called up a holodisplay on the tabletop, conjuring into being an image of their present sector. “We’re forced to take a roundabout route to get back to the Fleet, to avoid Dominion sensor grids and traps. Further to that, we’re maintaining signal silence, a low signature and not exceeding Warp 5. Under these conditions, our ETA will be approximately five days.”

Price frowned. “Five days? Can we survive that long? Do we have enough food, supplies, equipment?”

“It will require some sacrifice on our part,” T’Varik answered, eyes fixed on Sakuth with a glare even as she responded to Price. “And a major reallocation of resources, including a restriction on replicator use to basic rations. Areas are being assigned in the non-essential sections for sleeping, which will be scheduled, as will eating and exercise.”

Price studied the stellar display between them. “Aren’t there any outposts or colonies nearby where we can get help? Not even any Class-M worlds?”

“No, Captain. The Khavak Sector’s strategic importance has been more as a stepping stone to the inhabited worlds in adjacent sectors.”

“Captain Hrelle,” Sakuth spoke up. “There is a Klingon Task Force in the neighbouring Perigord system, along our route, preparing to strike at the Dominion forces we encountered. They were not in place in time for our own attack, but they should be ready by now.”

“Indeed?” T’Varik spoke up, an eyebrow raised. “We were not made aware of it in our last Security updates.”

Sakuth, meanwhile, remained composed. “It was part of a joint briefing between the Starfleet and Klingon Intelligence agencies, Commander, not necessarily for disclosure to the Thirteenth Fleet, except to Admiral Tattok. My reason for revealing it now is to suggest that they might be of assistance to us at this time, Captain.”

Hrelle grunted, aware of his own fierce reluctance to give this woman anything but cold suspicion for her past actions and present associations. But it was a reasonable suggestion, and deserved a reasonable answer. “I doubt if they can afford to give up supplies or give us an escort out of the sector; they’ll need everything they can get if they’re going up against what we did. But thank you for that information, Captain.” He turned to Kami. “Our Medical status, Counselor?”

Kami shifted Sreen in her arms when the infant insisted on hissing at Sakuth again. “47 confirmed dead onboard, though more were lost in the Shuttlebay breach and were irretrievable; the Morgue Unit is filled, but they’ve converted Cargo Bay 6 to handle the… surplus. 187 evacuees have survived to date: 20 are in the Stasis Units, including our Second Officer Lt Neheru, another 24 in the Intensive Care Beds, and the medical teams are now dealing with the minor physical injuries.”

“Excuse me,” asked one of the representatives, a tall, statuesque walnut-skinned human female with a short crop of sable hair, Commander’s pips on her collar, and a Wakandan accent lacing her words. “Onwa Zirangi, Chief Engineer, USS Iberia… well, former Chief Engineer, anyway.”

“Yes, Commander,” Hrelle responded. “What is it?”

“There are those of us who have lost people since our arrival. We haven’t been given the opportunity to… view the bodies, to pay our respects… to say goodbye.”

Hrelle studied the woman; he had met Wakandans before, found them as stoic as Capellans, but he could tell she had lost someone today. Possibly someone close. So he nodded sympathetically to her. “I understand, Commander Zirangi. We don’t have the facilities onboard to prepare formal viewings or perform ceremonies-”

“Acknowledged, Captain,” she interrupted sharply. “I don’t think any of us are looking for elaborate funerals or grand wakes, not now. But for most of us, all we have to confirm our losses are second-hand accounts from medical personnel. We just need the opportunity to look on those we’ve lost today… and accept it for ourselves.”

Hrelle nodded. “Of course, Commander. We’ll provide a list of those we have, and we’ll arrange for escorts on a regular schedule. What’s our Security status?”

Neraxis cleared her throat as attention focused on her. “I’ve run a physical search of every square centimetre of the ship, and have cleared us. Phasers remain on full power, quantum torpedo supply is at 80%, all Security personnel are fully armed, and I’ve altered the work patterns to four shifts instead of the usual three to give them a break.

Sir, I should also disclose that one of the Cardassian prisoners, an officer, informed me that the Dominion apparently keep the Jem’Hadar under control through the use of a substance called Ketracel White, and that without it, they’ll go into withdrawal, and become violent and uncontrollable.”

Price snorted, “You mean, as opposed to the gentle, charming creatures we all know them for being? Have you seen them in action, Missy?”

Neraxis fixed her gaze on him. “I’ve done more than see them, Sir, I've fought them. Have you?”

Price frowned. “There’s no need to be a smart aleck, Young Lady.”

“Then don’t encourage it, Captain,” Kami countered, looking to the others. “Is it possible? That the Dominion would enslave an entire race like that?”

“Yes,” Sakuth confirmed. “This reaffirms reports SI have received, that Ketracel White is both an addictive substance and an endemic nutrient for the Jem’Hadar; this, in addition to the social conditioning imprinted on the Jem’Hadar from their hatching, ensures absolute loyalty. But I am curious as to why a Cardassian prisoner would reveal such information to us.”

“Because they’re sharing the same cell as the Jem’Hadar,” Neraxis informed her, looking to Hrelle. “He requested that he and his men be moved into the adjacent facilities.”

“Did he indicate how long it would be before the Ketracel White withdrawal would take effect?”

“He seemed to imply just a matter of hours now.”

Hrelle looked to Sakuth, who responded, “I have no further information on the subject. But now would be an ideal opportunity to witness the effects on them. The intelligence we gather could be invaluable.”

“Or,” Kami suggested, “We could get our medical teams to examine them, and perhaps even find a cure for their addiction?”

“Excuse me, Counselor?” Price demanded indignantly. “You want to help them? The enemy? Are you insane, or just naive as hell?”

Hrelle started to respond, but his son beat him to it, slamming his tiny fists down on the tabletop as he shouted, “YOU BE NICE TO MY MAMA, OR YOU FIGHT ME!”

Sreen hissed.

Hrelle leaned in, resting a hand on one of Misha’s forearms. “Stand down, Cub of Mine. Go into my office, find the box of snacks that someone put under my desk for some reason – I have no idea where it came from – and help yourself to one thing… and I mean just one, understand?”

Misha growled, but nodded, pointing a warning finger, claw extended, at Price and glaring as he departed. When the door slid shut, Price breathed out, appearing a little shaken by the outburst. “That’s quite a… spirited youngster of yours, Captain.”

Hrelle glared at him, watching as a scowling Kami settled Sreen down again. “That ‘spirited youngster of mine’ pre-empted a very similar warning from me: watch what you say... to any member of my crew, not just my wife. You and the others on your side of the table are here right now as a courtesy, not a consultation.”

“Captain Hrelle is correct,” Sakuth supported. “And Counselor Hrelle’s suggestion is both ethically and strategically sound.”

Sasha folded her arms, her expression taut. “It’s so pleasing to get the Ethical Seal of Approval from you, Captain.”

“Counselor,” Hrelle interrupted, not wanting this to descend any further. “Inform Doctor Masterson, have him devote whatever people or resources he can to examine the Jem’Hadar – under the strictest security conditions – and confirm this dependency on the drug.”

“I would respectfully request any data gathered on this matter, Captain,” Sakuth asked, “One of my missions with the Fleet involved collecting all intelligence on the Dominion’s soldiers. Any information on the Jem’Hadar that can be exploited could save Federation lives… even if it leads to freeing the Jem’Hadar from Dominion control. In this light, they may even be seen less as biological weapons of the Dominion, and more as their victims.”

Hrelle considered her. The woman was making every effort to support and ingratiate to him, and he could practically feel how his side were reacting to that. “We’ll see, Captain.” He looked to Jonas. “What’s our Engineering status?”

Jonas straightened up. “Warp and impulse engines are operational, Sir, and I’ve ensured the subsystems are running fully on the original ODN lines. I had a check of your bioneural gel packs, and confirmed the reason for their malfunction: polaron radiation affected them, the way it would our own biological nervous systems.”

Hrelle nodded at that. “And the damaged parts of the ship?”

“Chief Maryk and Lt Madison from the Ajax have been supervising the team repairing the damage to the Shuttlebay doors and floors, the rest is minor, cosmetic… but, Sir, I would recommend that we recruit more from among the evacuees to offer additional support. Your Engineering teams have been through an ordeal, particularly the cadets-”

“I’d have to agree with Jonas, Sir,” Neraxis piped up. “The casualties among your Security team are significant, plus they have the added stress of having to monitor the POWs. I’m happy to cover for Lt Shall until she’s released from Sickbay, and remain in service under her, but your people need a break.”

“Excuse me,” Price picked up again. “But we’ve all been through an ordeal today-”

“-Thus I am certain you will understand and coooperate, Captain,” Sakuth finished for him. “Given that we are alone out here, and must depend upon each other to survive.”

Hrelle noted how Price reacted to the interruption, but sensibly ended any further potential protest. “Thank you. Lt Ostrow – the Chief of Security one – will escort you back to the Shuttlebay, and we’ll examine our records to determine those among the evacuees best qualified to provide support. And Lt Ostrow – the Chief of Engineering one – will proceed to the Bridge and assume command from Lt Velkovsky until relieved.”

Jonas looked to him. “Command, Sir?”

Hrelle nodded, though he kept staring at Sakuth. “Proceed… all but you, Captain Sakuth.”

The Vulcan remained seated as the Ostrows and the other evacuees departed. Once the door slid shut, Sakuth leaned forward, folding her hands on the table and regarding the four adults and one cub staring back. “May I assume that, given our notable shared history, that you have questions for me?”

“‘Notable’,” Hrelle echoed with a growl. “The first time you were here, you tried to blow us to the Seven Hells to suppress the details about a secret weapon.”

“The second time,” Kami continued. “You tried to shoot my cub with a phaser, believing he was a Changeling.”

“The third time,” T’Varik added coldly. “You conspired in a cover-up of a telepathic assault on my person by one of your fellow operatives.”

“And today,” Sasha concluded, scowling, “I learned you forced a mindlink on Giles Arrington, claiming you did it because he panicked while serving under you on the Cooper.” Her sneer punctuated what she thought of that idea. “And you probably helped the spy your boss planted on the Ajax, the one who framed Lt Madison and sabotaged our systems. You’re a real piece of work, you and the rest of your Section 31 pricks.”

Sakuth raised an eyebrow. “Most of the incidents mentioned were, as explained at the time, necessary actions taken in defence of Starfleet and the Federation… but not necessarily taken with ardency.” She looked to Kami. “The incident with your son was regrettable, Counselor, and I apologise for frightening him, and you.” She turned on Sasha. “I make no claim of being part of any organisation named Section 31, nor even of acknowledging the existence of such, nor do I know of any operatives that may or may not have been on the Ajax.

As for Mr Arrington, the explanation I provided your associates was partly true.”

Partly true? As much as that?” T’Varik noted archly. “Such levels of honesty must have caused you acute dyspepsia.”

“You’d better be prepared to give us the full truth,” Hrelle demanded with a growl. “If you want to walk off my ship alive.”

Sakuth stared at him for a moment, her disbelief at his naked threat clear on her face, before she regained her composure, folding her hands on the table. “The intensity of your loyalty towards your former cadet does you credit, Captain. The account I gave Mr Arrington’s associates regarding his behaviour was a necessary obfuscation.”

“A lie,” T’Varik corrected sharply. “Call it what it is, for once.”

Sakuth eyed her former lover, but only for a moment, focusing on Hrelle again. “Disinformation. Mr Arrington did not panic while on the Cooper. On the contrary, he demonstrated remarkable calm under duress, as well as tactical acumen, and ensured we survived long enough to download our accumulated intelligence into secure drives, and make our escape. He is a testament to the training and influence you have all given him, and I will commend his actions in my report-”

“Then why did you really mindmeld with him?” Kami snapped, provoking a growl of punctuation from Sreen.

“Because in the process of assisting me, he inadvertently became privy to data far above his current security level, knowledge of which would have been dangerous in his possession. My actions were as much to protect him as to safeguard the data.”

“How noble of you,” Sasha sneered.

“Was the link consensual?” Hrelle asked.

“Yes. Starfleet Intelligence operatives at particular security levels sign waivers offering consent to telepathic amendment when necessary.” She looked to T’Varik. “You may speak with him, of course, and verify all of this. Is there anything else I might do to assist you?”

“Yes,” T’Varik responded first. “You are being open, patient, cordial, ingenuous, complimentary, welcome. All of these qualities are totally uncharacteristic of you. If you are seeking to lull us into a false sense of security, it is doomed to failure.”

“While you’re onboard our ship,” Hrelle continued. “You’ll not attempt to access any system. Or any mind. If you do either, you’ll regret it. That’s a promise.”

Sakuth regarded him, and the others. “I understand your hostility towards me, Captain. But you must be aware that with my connections in Starfleet Intelligence, you cannot intimidate me. None of you can.”

“No, bubulah?” Sasha countered, crossing her arms. “How about my grandmother? We all know who Ma’Sala Shall is, beyond her role in the Caitian Planetary Navy.

Is she capable of intimidating you?”

Sakuth stared back, blinking.

Then she turned back to Hrelle. “I will comply with your conditions.”

Before anyone can respond, Hrelle’s intercom chirped, and Jonas’ voice filled the air. “Captain, please report to the Bridge, at once.”

“Acknowledged.” He rose. “Commander, escort Captain Sakuth back to the Shuttlebay, in case she gets lost along the way. Counselor, collect our cub before he empties my snack box, and update Masterson about the Jem’Hadar situation. Lieutenant Hrelle, you’re with me.” He winced.

Kami frowned at him, and he saw it, but neither brought it up in front of Sakuth, as all departed, Hrelle striding onto the Bridge, pushing down his pain as he looked around. The cleaning crew had done a good job of clearing up after the attack here… except for the lingering scent of Neheru’s blood in the air, and on the bulkhead, noticeable only to experienced Caitian noses.

He also noticed Velkovsky, still at the Helm, despite his earlier insistence to her that she finally take a break, after all that had happened in the last twelve hours. But he had no time for dealing with it now, as he approached Jonas at Tactical, standing with Security crewman Xinn Chaf. He noted the display readings. “What is it?”

Jonas faced him, his expression grave. “Captain, our long-range sensors are detecting sudden changes in the flight plans of a half-dozen Galor-class warships.”

“All towards us. At Warp Nine,” Hrelle finished, prompted by the display. It was true: six vessels in various positions, around the sector, all suddenly moving in their direction. “We must have caught the attention of one of their probes.” He glanced at Sasha. “Take us to Yellow Alert, and get T’Varik and Neraxis back up here.” He returned to the display. “On our present course and speed, and at theirs, they’ll converge on us in two hours, maybe less.”

Chaf looked to the display as well, his bald blue Bolian head creasing with study. “If we increased our speed to Maximum-”

“-We’ll gain perhaps an extra half-hour, but make our position stand out all the more clearly for their sensors. We’ll still have nowhere to go, we’ll just get there a little faster.”

Seven Hells…

*

Deck 4 Mid – Sickbay 3:

Peter Boone swung his legs out over the side of the biobed and sat up, wincing as he reached for his undershirt, ignoring the approaching nurse until he was practically in Peter’s face. “Lie back, Mister, you’re not going anywhere.”

Peter still kept looking away. Not out of rudeness, but to save himself embarrassment; Nurse Errem Etrusi was Betazoid, and handsome as hell with those broad shoulders and wavy copper hair and black eyes and Peter really needed to keep his thoughts to himself… “I’m needed, we’re in the midst of an emergency-”

Etrusi rested a hand on his shoulder. “Peter, you were lucky the disruptor blast didn’t hit a vital spot, and that they had coagulant treatments handy.”

Peter paused, controlling his reactions as best he could at the touch – he had to get out now before Doctor Kline returned and glowered the rebellion out of the human – before shrugging it off and hopping onto his feet. “I’ll take it easy, I promise.”

“Listen, Handsome, if I have to call up the EMH-”

“Then I’ll ignore him.”

“Excuse me, Son?”

Peter and the nurse turned at the approach of another human in civilian clothes, a male in his fifties with a broad, hangdog face, receding greying hair that reached his shoulders, and bright, mischievous eyes flanking a broad nose. Etrusi straightened up and faced him. “Sorry for leaving you like that, Mr Clemonds. Your injuries are all fixed, we’ll get someone to escort you back to the Shuttlebay, as soon as someone is free-”

“Someone’s free,” Peter declared, stepping around the nurse and finishing dressing in a fresh undershirt and jacket left him earlier when Zir came to visit. “I’ll take you there, Sir.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Etrusi smiled as he touched Peter’s forearm again. “Besides, now that you’re conscious, we can finally get to know each other...”

Peter’s pulse quickened… but then he looked over the Betazoid’s shoulder, and saw Clemonds grinning and shaking his head.

Peter pulled back. “Another time, maybe.” He grabbed his jacket, hid his discomfort as he slipped into it, and approached the other human. “If you follow me, Sir?” He waited until he was outside before asking, “I was being played in there, wasn’t I?”

Clemonds chuckled. “Like a prize fiddle, Son, like a prize fiddle.”

Peter grimaced. “He’s a Betazoid, he must have read my mind.”

The older man patted Peter’s shoulder sympathetically. “I hate to break it to you, Buddy, but you don’t have to be psychic to see you had the hots for him.”

Peter looked at him, felt his skin heat up, and then looked away once more. “I don’t believe it. This keeps happening to me. I have no Pokerface whatsoever. I must be the laughing stock of the ship.”

“Hey, don’t be thinking like that,” Clemonds assured him. “There’s nothing wrong with wearing your heart on your sleeve; at least people know where they stand with you. Unless you were one of my ex-wives.” He stopped and grinned. “We ain’t been formally introduced: L.Q. Clemonds, but my friends call me Sonny.”

Peter stopped and faced him; the man had an accent like their Chief Medical Officer, and he wondered if he had come from the same planet, where everyone behaved like cowboys. “Peter, Peter Boone, Medical Cadet.”

Clemonds shook his hand enthusiastically. “Pleasure to meet ya, Petey.” He glanced around at the people striding past him. “I’ve been in the future ten years now, and I’m still surprised by some of the folk you got running around. Hey, you don’t know where I can get me a replacement six-string?”

“‘Six-string’?”

“Yeah, a guitar! I’ve been a strummer for four hundred years, give or take a few decades on ice! I was a civilian entertainer on the Iberia when we had to abandon ship, and I had to leave my old axe behind.”

Peter frowned to himself. Four hundred years? He wondered if perhaps the man had an undiagnosed concussion, the way he talked. “Well, maybe our Chief Medical Officer Doctor Masterson will let you borrow his; he likes to sing songs about cowboys and horses and whiskey and-”

Clemonds stopped again, eyes brightening. “Well, now, sounds like a man after my own heart...”

*

Deck 1 Fore – Ready Room:

Hrelle ignored the continued pain in his side as he and his senior officers examined multiple displays and related data. Hrelle winced as he leaned forward over his desk, running through scenarios. “This system we’re passing- what have we got here?”

Sasha reached out and indicated the arrangement of planets around the small red binary stars. “Two small inner planets, both Class-D; a Class-I ice giant just outside the Temperate Belt, and a larger than usual Oort cloud due to the lack of a typical gas giant to act as a sweeper.”

T’Varik nodded to the holodisplay. “The Oort cloud could offer a number of opportunities for seclusion.”

“Only in the very short term,” Hrelle countered. “With six Galors in the search.”

“Eight now,” Neraxis corrected. “Just confirmed another two have joined the original six. Passive scans are picking up traffic between the ships. They’ve definitely detected us, and are already coordinating sensor sweeps.”

“What about the ice giant? It’s large; if we land on the surface near one of its magnetic poles-”

“Not recommended, Respected Captain,” Kit offered. “Unlike gas giants, the atmospheric composition and magnetic field strength of ice giants such as the one in this system would be both insufficient and hazardous… however, if I may offer a potential alternative?”

Hrelle and others looked to the reptoid at the far end. “We’re listening.”

The Science Officer called up an image magnified from the ice giant. “One of the planet’s collection of moons is Class-N, ocean-based, believed lifeless; its 12-day orbit around the planet is a cycle of the water rapidly and violently freezing and melting, and it is currently in the latter liquid stage. We can submerge with very little modifications to our spaceframe.”

“That moon?” Sasha repeated. “It’s even smaller than Luna! One Galor could scan it in less than an hour! With eight of them coming to search-”

“Forgive me for interrupting, Respected Lieutenant, but I should point out that the oceans of this moon are heavy in kelbonite particles-”

“Which interfere with sensors,” Hrelle finished, his heart racing head with hope, even as his head raced ahead with the details. He called up damage reports, drawing T’Varik and Sasha closer. “Can Sasha’s shuttle from the Ajax still fly?”

Sasha nodded. “Yeah, but not far.”

“It doesn’t need to go far. How far until we get to Waterworld?”

“1.1 hours,” T’Varik replied. “The first of the Cardassians will arrive approximately twenty-nine minutes after.”

“What have you got in mind, Dad?” Sasha asked.

He called up the statuses of the Surefoot’s shuttles. “We proceed to the ice giant, leaving a discernible trail so they know we’re headed there. As we pass over it, I want the Ajax shuttle, the Littlepaw and the Firefang programmed for autopilot, to leave us at a predetermined time, travel together, and crash here.” He indicated a section over the northern magnetic pole of the ice giant. “Detonating their warp cores simultaneously. We’ll also be depositing damaged plating, random debris, anything we can do without, in the same area. We’ll even rig a false recorder marker.”

“You wish the Cardassians to believe we attempted to hide within the magnetic field of the ice giant,” T’Varik deduced. “But failed, and were destroyed?”

He nodded. “It’s the obvious option that any commander would take, under the circumstances.”

“The combined warp core breaches of the shuttles, detonated simultaneously, might approximate the residual energy signature of our own warp core breaching,” Jonas confirmed. “What about the relative lack of debris?”

“The lack of debris can be explained through the breach,” the Vulcan contributed. “And perhaps a quantum torpedo detonation.”

“It will help even further to include bodies,” Hrelle added.

The others looked to him, Sasha echoing, “Bodies?”

He nodded again, feeling their eyes on him without looking. “All the bodies from the Morgue are to be included in the debris. The Jem’Hadar and Cardassians corpses, too. And any body parts.” Now he looked up, his people showing various levels of reaction to his orders. “We need to make the illusion as realistic as possible.”

“What, even Chief Grev?” Sasha asked, paling. “Nancy? Brian Gorman? Orogg? All our crew who have died? People we knew, worked with?”

Hrelle met his daughter’s eyes, hoping she would understand. This gambit wasn’t the way he would prefer to treat the bodies of people he once considered friends, colleagues. But at this point, he could count the number of viable options for keeping them alive on one finger. 

But then she nodded her understanding, and he looked to T’Varik. “When the time comes, I want you to handle the transfer of the bodies, tag them and have them beamed directly from the Morgue. And what we’re doing with them doesn’t leave this room. Our crew, the survivors… no one is to know, not until I can speak with those involved.”

“You promised they would have the opportunity to visit the remains, Sir… did you wish that accelerated?”

He thought about it, but shook his head. “We don’t have the time or people to spare getting that done… or to have arguments about it, or make exceptions for those who might object.” He looked at her. “I would appreciate your opinion as to my decision.”

Her expression evoked sympathy. “It is sound, Sir, and will greatly increase the verisimilitude of the illusion.”

“Thank you. Jonas, we’ll need all the power we can muster to handle the transporter requirements. Neraxis, get back to the Bridge, make sure our energy signature is tight… but not that tight; I want them to know our general direction, and that’s all. I’ll program the shuttles and recorder marker-”

“No, Sir,” Sasha said, cutting him off. “You won’t.”

He stared at her again. “Excuse me?”

She stared back. “We’ll take care of the preparations, Captain. You were injured, more than once, today; now’s the time to get to Sickbay and get treated.”

Hrelle felt himself blush beneath his fur, as the others began looking at him. “I’m fine, Sasha, I can handle it-”

But she straightened up. “The way you’re holding yourself, you were probably stabbed, maybe more than once. ‘Starfleet Order 104, Section A: Should a starships Commanding Officer receive an illness or injury that could potentially leave them medically or psychologically unfit for command, it is their duty to seek immediate treatment.’”

“Sasha-”

She crossed her arms. “‘Section B: Bridge Officers of the rank of Lieutenant or higher are obligated to inform said Commanding Officer if they believe treatment is advised-’”

Anger flared within him now; he didn’t need his daughter noodging him like an old woman right now in front of others. “Enough, and that’s an order, Lieutenant. I don’t need a lesson in Starfleet Regulations from you! Understood?”

T’Varik straightened up as well. “Your Second Officer is doing exactly what she is expected to do, Captain, and she has my full support in this matter. And it is logical for you to take this opportunity to deal with any outstanding issues that might impair your performance later, at a more critical moment than now, particularly as our medical teams will have treated the most serious cases by now. We will manage the details of your plan.”

He grunted… and surrendered to the logical. “Fine, I’ll go, before you sic my wife and other cubs on me too.”

“The Lieutenant will alert Sickbay that you are on your way,” T’Varik helpfully affirmed as he started for the door.

He said something in Old Caitian on the way out.

“You don’t want to know what he said,” Sasha informed T’Varik. “I promise.”

“I have recently adjusted my personal Universal Translator to include the obscure dialect,” the Vulcan replied. “I take no offence, given the physiological impossibility of his suggestion.”

*

Deck 3 Mid – Sickbay 1:

The EMH squatted and passed a sensor wand over the Horta sitting on the floor, his bald holographic head creasing in an approximation of deep thought. “Well… you’re alive.”

Zir stood by, arms crossed, frowning in disbelief. “Are you trying to be funny?”

“No, young woman, though humour is meant to be an efficacious tool for good bedside manner.”

“Just a couple of hours ago he was on the verge of death!”

And now I’m not,” Stalac reminded her, his voder unit crackling from damage. “Calm down, Zir, I’m fine.”

“Your friend is quite correct,” the EMH supported, reattaching the sensor wand to his tricorder. “More or less. The fibrous trisilicate in the Securifoam assisted in his healing, though I would avoid any major tunnelling for the next couple of days.”

“Always good advice on a starship,” Zir quipped, lowering her arms and drawing closer, kneeling on Stalac’s other side. “Stal… how are you feeling? After what happened on the Shuttlebay-”

He rumbled slightly. “Yes, Zir, I’m rather curious about that myself… what did happen?”

She frowned again. She hadn’t been there herself, but the Security reports were explicit about the details. “Stal… you don’t remember? The Jem’Hadar who beamed into the Shuttlebay, began killing and wounding everyone around you? You trying to stop them? Being wounded? You...” She paused. “You being forced to kill them?”

Kill? Me?” He tapped one side of his perimeter against the bulkhead in an approximation of a biped’s foot. “No, I can’t say I recall that. Funny, my memory is usually quite reliable.”

Zir looked up at the EMH in concern. “Doctor, what’s wrong with him?”

The hologram shrugged. “The Horta cerebral network is radically different to most carbon-based lifeforms. It’s possible that the wounds your friend received damaged or eliminated his short-term memory of the events.”

Exactly,” Stalac agreed. “I’m in fine fettle, Zir, and solid as neutronium. Nothing to worry about with me.”

She stared at him, as if she could see some hint on his bumpy stone carapace that would give away what felt like a lie. “Yes, but-”

But what?” Stal cut in, his artificial voice registering an uncharacteristic sharpness. “But nothing, Zir! Will you please leave me alone already?” The Horta rotated in place towards the EMH. “Am I free to leave, Doctor?”

He shrugged again. “Don’t ask me, I’m only a short-term diagnostic treatment program; the real doctor is off doing something interesting in your Brig with the Jem’Hadar prisoners.” He indicated the two Caitians making their way out of the Sickbay. “See? Those two should probably stay in here another night, but they’re leaving.”

Zir looked up, seeing Lt Shall and the Hrelles’ nanny Dr Furore walking out, and rushed over to them. “Lieutenant?”

The coal-furred Caitian female stopped, as if to adjust her uniform jacket. “Cadet Dassene! I was hoping to talk to you, to commend you on your actions in Engineering. Well done. Very well done. If you want to change mission specialities from Command to something more useful like Security, let me know.”

Zir felt her olive skin darken, recalling her actions, but wishing she had amnesia like her friend. Even pretend amnesia. “Thank you, Ma’am. But I thought you were going to be off-duty for a couple of days-”

C’Rash bristled. “Too much to do. Besides, a few hours beside Spots here is more than enough.”

Beside her, Jhess smiled and winked at Zir. “I’m an acquired taste.”

Zir felt her pulse quicken, just a little – did he know how handsome and charming he was? Bloody hell, of course he did! – but she recovered. “Um… Ma’am, it’s about my squadmate, Stal.”

C’Rash looked past her to the Horta, nodding. “Yeah, I got the report on him on the Shuttlebay. What about him?”

Zir drew closer, lowering his voice so as not to be overhead. “He’s claiming he doesn’t remember what he did. The EMH thinks he might have lost his short-term memory following his injury.”

Jhess nodded soberly at that. “Lucky him.”

Zir shook her head. “That’s just it… I don’t believe him. I think he’s lying, and he’s lying because he doesn’t want to face it. He has the most gentle, peaceful spirit you’ll ever know. Having been forced to kill like that must be too much for him to deal with.”

Now C’Rash shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Well, then, can’t you- can’t order him to-”

The female felinoid held up a hand. “No, I can’t. Not my job, or yours. Nor is it the time.”

“But-”

Jhess drew closer, looking sympathetic. “It’s admirable that you want to help him, Zir. But he needs to be willing to accept that help. By all means, fulfil your duties as his friend and Squad Leader by expressing your concerns with the Counselor, and being there if you can when he needs you.”

“And maybe what he needs right now,” C’Rash finished. “At least in the short term, is the distraction that returning to duty brings. It’s a therapy a lot of us need, especially as it appears we’re not out of danger. Now, unless you’ve been reassigned to other duties, you’re still working for me, so follow, I need an update from Neraxis...”

*

Deck 3 Fore – Shuttlebay:

Price stood with his senior officers near one corner, as if waiting in line for one of the hygiene chambers, but instead keeping an eye on the increased activity among the Surefoot crew, moving in and out of the shuttles, moving damaged bulkhead plating and containers into areas near the cargo transporter pads… seemingly acting in an ordinary manner.

Except Price had been in the service long enough to know better. “Something’s up. And they won’t say anything.”

His First Officer, Commander Fatimah Gular, a wiry human female of Turkish descent, with light brown skin and a mane of tight curly black hair, followed her commanding officer’s gaze. “Looks like another rescue. But Hrelle told you we were on our own out here?”

Price grunted. “So he said. What are you getting, Thigh?”

His Chief of Security, Lt Commander Thiqilar, a tall, gaunt Andorian male, stood slightly apart, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the Surefoot crew, antennae twitching as he listened to the dialogue from twenty metres away across the crowded Shuttlebay. “They’re talking about programming the shuttles to converge at some rendezvous point. There’s also talk of transporter energy requirements, Cardassians… and to keep things to themselves and not tell us.”

Price frowned. He hadn’t even had time to process losing his ship, losing so many of his crew, in that terrible battle, and be stranded onboard this vessel, with that bizarre Caitian. Hrelle had such an inflated reputation with Tattok, but Price wasn’t impressed.

Gular drew closer, her voice dropping. “What the Hell’s going on here, Nate?”

“I don’t know, Fatimah.” He felt his anger grow. Anger at losing so much today. Anger at being rendered a passenger instead of a leader. Anger at not having the answers for his people when they needed them. “But I’m gonna find out.”

He had been starting towards one of the crewmen being watched, when he was intercepted by the ship’s Second Officer, that human girl with the smart mouth and the Captain’s surname. “Captain Price?” She drew up and offered a PADD. “We have a list of personnel from the Lynx we could use-”

“‘Use’?” Price sneered. “We’re not spare parts, Missy! We’re people, people who have gone through Hell today!”

She blinked, before finally nodding, her regret appearing genuine. “My apologies, Captain, that was a very poor choice of words on my part.” She glanced down at the PADD before looking up again. “Please, let all of your people know that this is a request for their help, certainly not a command, and no one’s obliged to work if they, or you, feel they’re not ready for it.” She held out the PADD again to him. “Schedules have been adjusted so those ready and able to help will be moved up to the head of the lines for food, rest and hygiene; just indicate anyone we might need to replace. Preferably as soon as you can, so we can reschedule with a minimum of disruption.”

He started at the unexpected offer, before reluctantly accepting the PADD, but continued to focus on her even as he indicated the crewmen working behind her. “What’s going on?”

She looked over her shoulder, once, and quickly, before facing him again, lowering her voice. “Some Cardassian ships have spotted us, and we’re taking measures to throw them off our scent.”

“Cardassians?” He stiffened. “Take me to Captain Hrelle, I can offer tactical guidance.”

Lt Hrelle breathed in. “I’ll pass on your offer, Sir. If you’ll excuse me, I’m needed elsewhere-”

She started away, but then Price grabbed her by the elbow. “Hold it, Missy-”

She stopped, looked down at his hand and replied, “Please let go of me, Captain.”

“I don’t think you understand, when a superior officer gives you an order-”

“Sir,” she interrupted more forcefully, staring hard at him, her voice and stance taut. “I am respectfully asking you, one more time, to take your hand off of me.”

Suddenly Gular and Thiqilar were on either side of him, Gular leaning in and murmuring, “Sir...”

Price heard the tone in her voice, and let go of the young officer, who relaxed. A little. “As already promised, I’ll pass on your offer to Captain Hrelle. If you’ll excuse me...?” She turned and departed without waiting for a response.

Price watched her leave, harrumphing. “Insolent little bitch. No respect for rank.”

“She’s a killer,” Thiqilar remarked suddenly.

The other officers looked to him, Gular asking, “Excuse me, Thigh?”

The Andorian looked back, his antennae rising, his expression showing an uncharacteristic wariness. “She’s a killer. Her eyes, her posture. I’ve seen it before, dealing with Maquis, pirates, Cardassians. And the weapons she’s carrying… they’re not ceremonial. How they hang on her, how her muscles move… she was ready to grasp them. They’re not for show. She’s used them.”

Price stared in disbelief; the girl must have been half his age... “What kind of ship is Hrelle running here?”

*

Deck 3 Fore – Enlisted Mess Hall:

Astrid Michel sat at the table, cradling the coffee mug in her dark-skinned hands, seeing the black contents steam as the liquid remained untouched.

Opposite her, Cadet Squad Leader Jexa-Naku adopted a near-identical position, her curved, segmented Grazerite horns reflecting the lights above, her snout wrinkling as if reacting to the scents of the liquids they had chosen in lieu of actual food. They had been silent since they had been dismissed to get food and sleep.

Astrid wanted to speak. She wanted to talk about the attack on the Bridge. About diving for cover like a coward when she came under fire, just as Jexa-Naku, Logan Gentry and Velkovsky did, About poor Lt Neheru not being so lucky, being struck point blank in the gut by a disruptor bolt. About T’Varik leaping over the Bridge rail, screaming like an animal as she broke the necks of the Jem’Hadar. About the purple-red Kelpien blood that seemed to cover every square centimetre of the Bridge floor as Neheru lay there, and T’Varik struggled to keep him alive.

She wanted to get drunk. She wanted to make love. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to curl up under her blankets. She wanted to take a phaser and go down to the Brig and burn the surviving Jem’Hadar prisoners to Hell. She wanted to be told what to do. She wanted everything.

“I want to go home,” Jexa said.

Then Astrid realised that she didn’t want everything. She had spent half her life in a lie not of her own making, with a man she believed was her father but wasn’t, and the other half with the man who was her father, but didn’t know him. Neither ended up being a home for her. Starfleet had become her home, as it had for so many others. But now, her home was blood-stained.

“I could go to work in my brother’s office, in the Federation Council offices,” Jexa continued, her voice cracking a little. “Nepotism be damned. I could do the job of any of my brother’s staff. Schedules, communications, itineraries, travel arrangements. No death. No disruptors. No danger. The worst thing I’ll ever face there is a pushy reporter looking for a quote from my brother about the latest trade agreement with the Ferengi.”

“You were brilliant on the Bridge,” Astrid said suddenly.

Jexa looked up. “Excuse me?”

Astrid set aside her cup; she didn’t want it anyway. “I listened to you on the Bridge. While T’Varik kept Neheru alive, you stayed in control, coordinating communications with the Captain, the other sections of the ship, ensuring the rest of us did our jobs. Perhaps, because of your efforts today, you helped keep us alive. Hundreds of us onboard.” Their eyes met. “Sure, you could do the job of any of your brother’s staff. Could they do yours? And would anything you did there on Earth compare with what you have done so far out here?”

Before Jexa could respond, their attention was drawn to sounds near the replicators. Engineering Crewman Logan Gentry was leaning against the wall, as if having lost all power, and was making a painful noise.

And then Astrid kicked herself, as she remembered how minutes before the attack on the Bridge, word had reached them about the death of Chief Grev... and Nancy Yeager, whom Logan had been seeing for months now. She had looked over at him when the news arrived, but he kept his back to the rest of them, and then her attention went elsewhere. She rose, and from the way Jexa copied her, she knew the Squad Leader understood, too.

From when Astrid first met him, Logan always seemed a sturdy figure: tall, broad-shouldered, with bright Scandinavian features, he reminded her of the handsome ski bums around the resorts in the Alps and the Ktarian Glaciers. But now, now he seemed so fragile. Crumbling.

Without saying a word, they guided him out to somewhere more private.

*

Deck 4 Aft – Post-Operative Suite:

Shyrik closed her tricorder. “There: confirmed telepathic manipulation. About twenty minutes of your memories have been neutralised, from just before you boarded the Surefoot. My findings are all recorded, Lieutenant.”

Giles stepped away from the machines. He still couldn’t believe it, that this would happen to him. And yet, the evidence was there. Blankly, he nodded. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Beside them, Eydiir grunted. “Ensure your findings are secure, Doctor, in case Captain Sakuth attempts to delete or manipulate them.”

Giles eyed her. “Aren’t you getting a little paranoid?”

“I have to ask that as well,” Shyrik added.

“No.” The Capellan crossed her arms. “She is a deceitful, manipulative miscreant. She has attempted to destroy this ship, she has threatened Captain Hrelle’s son with a phaser-”

“She did what?” Shyrik snarled.

Giles shook his head. The Vulcan had never been the warmest of commanding officers, and he recalled the incident during their final exams and that classified episode where they ended up in another dimension. But could she have been that ruthless?

Eydiir must have seen something in his expression, and drew closer. “Giles, you’re the victim here.”

“Not necessarily,” suggested a new voice.

They turned to see Hrelle approach, Giles straightening himself up. “Captain! It’s good to see you again!”

He smiled. “And you, Giles.”

Eydiir’s gaze narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘not necessarily’, Sir? Sakuth assaulted him, defamed his honour! She is a scoundrel!”

The Caitian breathed in, wincing. “Doctor, if you would?” As the Andorian approached, scanning him, Hrelle continued. “I could say worse about Sakuth. And she has admitted to lying when we interrogated her.” She faced Giles. “She confirmed that, contrary to what she stated previously, you did not panic while on the Cooper. On the contrary, you performed in an exemplary manner.” He smiled. “It’ll probably be the most truthful thing she’s ever said.”

He frowned, feeling relieved, though in a detached manner, not having any memories to refute or support in the first place. “Then- Then why- why-”

“Captain Sakuth lied to deflect from her true purpose in erasing your memories: apparently while assisting her in retrieving data prior to your evacuation of the Cooper, you were exposed to classified data above your current security level. And as I’m sure you’re already aware, memory alteration, whether by Vulcan mindmeld or more conventional medical means, is an accepted process within Starfleet Intelligence.”

He nodded numbly. “Yes. I remember signing the waiver before my initial training for SI. I… I never thought it would actually happen to me-”

“She cannot be trusted!” Eydiir declared. “She has no honour!”

“No,” Hrelle admitted, grunting as Shyrik began collecting instruments and treating him. “But at present we have more urgent matters to attend to. Giles, I would appreciate your assistance.”

He swallowed, grateful for the offer of a distraction from his confusion. He nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course, Captain. What can I do?”

“Report to the Bridge, relieve Lt Velkovsky. Poor Irina’s been running on adrenaline and coffee since before the battle, and won’t leave the Helm.” He made a sound as Shyrik pushed him back against the wall. “Oww! Watch it, Sizao!”

Shyrik grunted. “You watch it, Captain, Sir! I have to repair not only your wounds but the phaser cauterisation you idiotically performed on yourself like some lone soldier in the wilderness! Now stay still, or I’ll relieve you of duty!”

The Caitian blew a raspberry… but kept still. “Can you do that for us, Giles?”

“Of course, Sir. I’m on my way.” He nodded and started off.

Until Eydiir grabbed his elbow, her dark Capellan face scowling. “Captain, you cannot allow the blackguard Sakuth to get away with this!”

Hrelle winced at Shyrik’s less-than-gentle treatment, but appeared determined to grimace and bear it. “She won’t, Nurse. But at the moment, we have bigger shuris to fry.” He nodded towards Giles’ arm. “You should let go, he might need that. You know, for flying and stuff.”

*

Deck 6 – Morgue:

The air was chill; T’Varik watched her breath ghost before her as she worked, as quickly and efficiently as possible, attaching isolinear tags to each body to aid in their eventual transport when required, having already done this for the additional bodies stored in Cargo Bay 6.

This was a workable plan of the Captain’s, she reminded herself. Logical, efficient, and necessary.

She was alone; the details of the plan was known only to a minimum number of people, and the guard outside the facility ensured she would perform this task alone, and not be disturbed by those visiting the dead, who might not understand. Many humanoid cultures possessed illogical, irrational notions about the sanctity of the dead.

It was bizarre, how some devoted far more attention to the respect, the veneration of the dead, than they do the living, building ostentatious tombs, sarcophagi, entire necropolises. Vulcans, of course, once possessed similar customs, but now diminished such traditions to the immediate, and only to ensure the successful passage of the katra from the body into the Void.

She felt herself lingering around the bodies of those she knew and worked with: Chief Grev, Nancy Yeager, Brian Gorman, Glenqom Orogg, Raelinn Aquilar, Dolla Raod, Malcolm Berry… it was illogical, that she might behave differently to these, than to those medical crew and survivors who were here as well, but not known to her. All life had value, not just those with whom she shared history.

Then she came to the bodies, and the body parts, of the enemy. And she saw those she had killed on the Bridge.

She sought regret, that their actions necessitated their deaths.

But she found none.

To those not in the know, Vulcans seemed a cold, detached race, exhibiting behaviour that in other races would be labelled sociopathic. It was a fallacy, of course; exigency required outer control.

Now, however, she felt the rush of rage she had felt when she had killed these Jem’Hadar. Linked to her partner C’Rash, T’Varik had been fuelled by the fury that had gripped the Caitian, and then ignited when T’Varik felt C’Rash die, and the link broken.

T’Varik now sought to mentally compartmentalise the memories, the rage. But she couldn’t.

No. She wouldn’t.

She knew that it would be a risk to maintain a long-term psionic link with a non-Vulcan partner, especially one from a race as openly passionate as Caitians. And she had seen her general demanour adjust with her relationship with C’Rash. But she believed she could manage it.

She should have shown remorse for killing the Jem’Hadar now lying on the slabs before her, regardless of the circumstances. She should have been disconcerted by her lack of remorse.

Instead, she stared down at the bodies and murmured, “You got what you deserved.”

Then she tagged them and moved on.

*

Deck 3 Mid - Brig:

Doctor Masterson frowned as he stood outside of the cell, staring at the display on his medical tricorder, before looking up at the Jem’Hadar prisoners behind the invisible force field. “Tarnation… I can’t get a reading on them. Damndest thing.”

On the other side of the cell with his fellow Cardassians, Glinn Drurocc sneered. “Of course you can’t read them! They’re bred to be resistant to sensors, you insipid fool!”

Standing closer to the Cardassians, Neraxis looked to him. “Watch that mouth, Dickhead, or you won’t get any ice cream.” She looked to Masterson. “Is there anything you can do to overcome that, Doc?”

The human shrugged, turning off his tricorder. “I don’t supposed you can let one out so I can take some direct tissue and blood samples?”

That suggestion made the Jem’Hadar react, however subtly… but not too subtly that Neraxis hasn’t noticed. “Sorry, Doc. Too risky. What about the Jem’Hadar bodies in the Morgue?”

Masterson shook his head. “Dead tissue offers limited information. Maybe we could pump some anesthezine in there, take one out and have him strapped down in our Science Lab to be examined there? Have however many guards you want present, of course?”

Neraxis frowned at the suggestion. “No! For one thing, I don’t even know if anesthezine will even affect them! For another, what about the ethical considerations? You can’t experiment on them like lab animals against their will!”

“What? Not even to save their lives?” He turned back to the Jem’Hadar. “Look, Dudes, I’ve seen too many people die today because of you Horntoads, but that don’t mean I don’t wanna help you if you need help. Now, I’m told your lives depend on this Ketracel White the Dominion parcels out to ya, but if I get to study you, we might find a way to live without it. You won’t have to serve the Founders anymore-”

That notion brought an angry reaction from one of the Jem’Hadar now, his black beady eyes throwing daggers at Masterson. “They are our GODS! We live and die at their command! Victory is Life!”

“Victory is Life!” all of them chanted at once. “Victory is Life!”

“This is pathetic!” Drurocc spat. “You waste your time bleating about ethics and trying to help those who do not want your help!” Then he drew in closer towards Neraxis and leered. “If you’re going to let us die in here, at least let us have some small diversion.”

Neraxis frowned. “Diversion? What in Hraxor’s name are you talking about?”

The Cardassian chuckled. “How about sending in that sweet little human from Engineering? We would love to get to know her better.”

Masterson’s face went red with anger. “The Hell you say!”

Drurocc ignored him, focusing on Neraxis, bolstered by the encouragement he was receiving from his men. “She had quite a sharp tongue on her. We’ve got better things for her to wrap it around than her insults.”

Neraxis stared back, mentally counting to Ten before replying deadpan, “Sorry, she’s not available. But she’s got a friend who I know is interested in having some quality time with you and your men.” She turned and walked to the door, letting it slide open and gesturing to the individual standing in the corridor beyond.

She returned to the cell… with Urad Kaldron following.

The Cardassians immediately went silent, backing away from the force field as Neraxis regarded them, feeling the huge presence of the Hroch cadet behind her. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to make any more jokes about trying to rape that young woman? Why not? You were pretty gabby just a few seconds ago!”

Urad drew closer to the force field, still saying nothing, still keeping his dark eyes fixed on Drurocc.

The Cardassians backed away further.

“What in Seven Hells is going on?”

Neraxis turned at the sound of the new voice. “Lieutenant?”

C’Rash entered, having to walk around Urad before coming between him and the cell.

Masterson stepped forward. “Lieutenant, who in Blazes released you from Sickbay?”

“I released myself, Doc. Five more minutes lying next to Spots, and you’d have been doing surgery to get his head removed from his rectum.” She looked to Neraxis. “I appreciate you covering for me, and I’d like your continued support as my second for the duration of this crisis.”

Neraxis nodded, feeling relieved at her return. “Of course, Ma’am.”

“At last,” Drurocc interrupted. “Some experienced, level-headed authority is in place here. I am-”

“Shut your mouth.” C’Rash turned back to Masterson. “I heard about what you’re trying to do for our prisoners, but it’s going to have to wait, something’s come up-”

Drurocc drew closer. “Lieutenant, I don’t think you properly grasp the gravity of-”

C’Rash spun around, hissing loudly at him and making him step back again. “I told you to shut your Motherdamned mouth! You’re lucky you and these other piles of crap are facing a Federation Court for your filthy crimes, instead of a Caitian Matriarch’s Tribunal, where they’d take your balls off while you watched! Now for the last time, shut up!

The Cardassian glared… but complied.

*

Sickbay 1:

“Computer, where are the Hrelle Cubs?”

Misha and Sreen Hrelle are in Sickbay 1.”

Jhess had been returning to his quarters, but now stopped in the corridor, his heart racing. “Is one of them sick or hurt?”

I do not have that information.”

He was racing in that direction, ignoring the pains in his lungs, before the computer finished its reply. He had been hired to watch over those cubs… and had fallen in love with them, almost as much as if they were his kin. If one or both of them ended up in Sickbay because he had let his combat instincts overwhelm him and ran off to save C’Rash-

He barely made it through the opening doors, skidding to a halt before running into the Klingon doctor, Kline. “Sorry! Where are the-”

But then his snout picked up the scents, of the cubs and their mother, clustered around Hrelle receiving medical treatment. Misha now rushed up to the nanny. “Hi, Jhessie! I protect Mama!”

Jhess bent down and caught the cub, rising… and immediately regretting it, letting him down again as he went into a coughing fit.

Kline and a couple of nurses helped him up to an adjacent biobed. Kline grunted. “A valiant effort, Doctor, but perhaps with those newly-regenerated lungs, you checked yourself out a little too soon?”

Jhess tried to wave it off, though his staccato, cough-punctuated speech betrayed him. “No- I’m- I’m okay- R-Really-”

Kami drew up to him. “You left Sickbay before you were ready? What kind of example is that to set?”

But the nanny smiled his most charming smile, patting her muzzle. “Please, Kami, Sweetie, you need me, don’t deny it! I can handle anything!”

“Really? You’re up for cub minding again?”

He held out his arms generously. “I’m up for minding a hundred cubs!”

She eyed him… and then smiled back. “Well, they don’t number a hundred, just six, plus Misha and Sreen, but there may be more from the rest of the survivors once word gets around.”

The spotted male frowned. “Um… I’m not sure I’m tracking your scent, Sweetie.”

“The Nursery you’re going to set up and run.”

Jhess’ mouth opened, and then closed.

Allowing Kami to continue. “Six young survivors of the Vancouver, and their carer, are currently cleaning up, eating and sleeping in my quarters. You’ll be in charge of them, and possibly more: eating, education, entertainment, exercise-”

“All the E’s...” He harrumphed.

“And you’ll have a little helper.” She indicated Misha, who stood near his sister, arms folded, growling at anyone who dared draw near. “Or a little assassin.”

*

Deck 3 Fore – Shuttlebay:

Sasha strode up to the Engineering crewmen, as the Shuttlebay doors slid open, the atmospheric force field keeping them safe but not preventing some around her, no doubt still recovering from the breach earlier, from reacting. She glanced out at the ice giant of lime-green and aquamarine storm clouds they were approaching. “Everything okay here?”

A couple in Engineering Gold turned to her, an older petite woman with a stern face, and a younger, large-framed man. Chief Maryk nodded, her Russian accent carrying her attitude. “How do they manage to get anything done onboard? 75% of the computer processing, power and replicator allocation is geared towards medical applications! They have three Sickbays, a Post-Operative Suite, Stasis Units-”

She shrugged. “It’s an ambulance ship, what’d you expect?” She indicated the man beside Maryk. “And don’t knock it; because of it, they managed to get this big lug fixed up in record time! How’s your leg by the way, Jim?”

Lt Jim Madison smiled, giving the right leg that had been broken by that fakakta spy Shanek on the Ajax a shake before replying, “I might need to test it later by kicking your ass for everything you’ve put me through today.”

Sasha smirked; it had been a busy day for them both. “I think I liked you better when you were doped up on ambizine.” Then she sobered. “I am sorry. The evidence was pointing so heavily towards you-”

Jim waved it off, his broad smile widening. “Forget it, Wildcat.”

Then they all started as the Shuttlebay alerts prompted them to clear the path of the shuttlecraft, the vessels rising and passing slowly through the force field and into the outside. Sasha nodded. “I gotta get back to the Bridge. Could you two head down to Engineering? We’ll need to batten down the hatches for our deep sea dive.”

Jim studied her. “Is there something wrong, Sash?”

She almost told him, but remembered where they were. “We’re going to have to do something that will upset a lot of the people here. We can’t talk about it, not now. Come on.”

Nearby, the Andorian Chief of Security from the Lynx stood, watched and listened to the conversation without being seen.

*

Bridge:

Hrelle had returned to the Bridge and taken his seat just before T’Varik and Sasha had returned, the latter taking her place at Ops, the former stopping and eyeing him. “Captain? You have been treated and released?”

He nodded, never taking his eyes off of the viewscreen, showing the Surefoot skimming over the upper atmosphere of the ice giant, the three shuttlecraft zooming ahead in formation. “Yes, Mama. The doctor even gave me a lollipop for being a good cub. Would you like to know where I’m keeping it?”

“I… do not, Sir. The bodies have been tagged, along with the designated debris, and Lt Hrelle will supervise the transporter controls.”

“Good. Giles, open the plasma vents. I want the Cardassians to begin thinking we were having problems on our apparent descent.”

“Aye, Sir.”

At Tactical, C’Rash reported, “Cardassian Galors appear to be increasing speed now; the first ones will be within effective sensor range in thirty minutes.”

From her station, Sasha now spoke up. “Giles, there’ll be a significant power drop for the transporters for a few seconds, be ready to compensate.”

Hrelle watched the back of the young man’s head react to Sasha addressing him, but he kept looking ahead, his hands moving over his controls. “Aye, Ma’am.”

Hrelle smirked, despite the depths of the crisis, seeing the two young people trying to interact in a professional manner, despite their shared intimate past. He supposed he should be more impressed than amused by it; until Sasha’s mother he had tended to avoid getting into relationships, especially with crewmembers, and the potential for conflicts of interest and emotional entanglements.

The ship began shuddering as they skimmed through the upper atmosphere of the planet below. He opened a shipwide intercom, affecting his most calming, paternal voice. “Attention, All Hands: there’s no need for alarm, we’re just performing a few manoeuvres to shake off some unwanted attention. There may also be some minor power fluctuations. Just sit tight, and we’ll be back on our way to join the rest of the Fleet before you know it. Captain Hrelle out.”

“Beginning transporter sequencing,” Sasha announced over the shuddering.

*

Dec 2 Fore – Jhess Furore’s Quarters:

The lights were down, but he had portable chemical lights strewn about, providing a warm glow like around a campfire, and he had calming scents mingling in the air and had the windows shuttered, but it did little to calm the anxieties of the children sitting in a circle on the floor, looking around. The human Counselor, a fetching young woman named Shirley, tried to engage them in a sing-a-long, but it was obvious she was more used to dealing with adults and adult problems. Meanwhile Misha, still annoyed at being handed over to Jhess, stood apart from the others, waiting near the door in case the Jem’Hadar decided to somehow attack.

Of them all, only Sreen, cradled in the high-tech soundproof carrier gifted by her grandmother, slept soundly, for which Jhess was immensely grateful.

Finally Shirley stopped singing. “Oh come on, kids! It’s going to be okay! You don’t have to be afraid! I promise!” She looked to Jhess. “Isn’t that right?”

“No. It isn’t.”

Some of the children stopped their mewling to look at him in confusion.

And he continued. “No, it’s not okay! You had to leave your ship, your families, you were bounced around in a shuttle, and then brought to this strange place! It’s rotten!” The other youngsters now attended him. “It’s not okay, and you have the right to be afraid! Afraid and angry! I feel the same way!”

He knelt down at the outside of the circle, his tail swishing behind him. “And when Caitians get angry... we roar! Even if there’s nothing to roar at, we do it anyway! It makes us feel better! Watch!”

And then he titled back his head and roared up at the ceiling. He knew he had risked frightening them even more, but his experience told him that most cubs, no matter what race, responded better to honesty and solidarity than false assurances. He looked to Shirley. “Can you roar, Shirl? Let’s hear it!”

She stared at him in mild disbelief, even as some of the children responded. “Go on, Shirley!” “Yeah, roar!” “Show us!”

Finally she complied, and Jhess laughed. “That’s pretty good! But I bet these cubs can do better!” He beckoned to them. “Come on! Let’s show Ensign Vinh how you roar!”

One child roared. And then another, and another. And it enveloped them all – except for Misha. Jhess turned to him. “Misha! You have to roar, too!”

But the cub continued to stand there like the legend of the Kaetini Cat With No Name. “No! It’s stinky little cub stuff! I grown up! I stand guard!”

“Fine. And I suppose because you’re grown up, you won’t want to have any ice cream or watch Power Cat?”

Misha scowled, visibly wanting to change his mind. But finally he shook his head and looked away.

Oh, you stubborn little scrapper, Jhess thought, smiling.

*

The lights on the Bridge dimmed, only slightly, with the momentary diversion of power and computer processing, even with the Surefoot’s existing modifications letting them manage more transporter activity than other ships of its class.

Hrelle watched the shuttles detonate in the upper atmosphere of the ice giant, aware that the debris being transported into the area included the bodies of friends, colleagues, Starfleet personnel and civilians who ended up casualties of war today. Aware that now any funereal customs they or their next of kin might have held can now never be fulfilled.

He knew that his own people’s customs were minimal: the body was recycled, returned to nature, through the land or the water, and if there were spirits within them, they lived on in the memories of those who survive them.

But that was just his people. Others differed, and they were entitled to their beliefs, and he was sorry for those who would not be able to exercise those beliefs, because of his actions.

“Transport complete,” Sasha reported. “Everything is spread out.”

“Firing quantum torpedo,” C’Rash added. “Targeting main impact site.”

Hrelle gripped the arms of his chair tighter. “Helm, tighten our energy signature! Keep it at one-quarter impulse! Where’s Waterworld?”

From the Science Station, Kit turned to face Hrelle. “Dead ahead, Respected Sir.”

Then he saw it, as they continued to coast along the edge of the ice giant: a tiny black marble, sparkling from the light of the distant sun, and growing larger as they approached. But then Hrelle frowned as he examined the moon’s position in orbit. “How long will the oceans stay liquid, Kit?”

The reptoid rechecked his readings, making a sharp intake of breath in response. “Respected Captain, I-I fear we have not arrived at an optimum time. The moon’s orbit is entering the waxing quarter stage, when it will soon disappear back behind the ice giant. The freezing cycle has already begun!”

Hrelle rose and drew up to him. “You mean we’re too late?”

Kit’s throat was flushing red now, and his fingers moved in a more agitate manner over the displays. “No, Respected Sir! Upon our arrival, we may have only two, maybe three hours, before the water freezes to the point of our being trapped… and crushed by the pressure-” He looked up at Hrelle, trembling now. “Please forgive me! I would not have recommended this course of action if I thought we would have so little time-”

But Hrelle rested a hand on the young officer’s shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. “Kit, if you hadn’t recommended this course of action, we would have had no choice. A slim chance is better than none at all. We continue onward, submerge and hide as long as we can.”

“Will it be enough?” C’Rash asked.

He shrugged. “Well, I guess we’ll find out.”

*

Deck 6 Fore:

Kami strode up to the young Security cadet standing outside the Morgue. “Ree-Taan? Why are you here?”

The tall Miradorn female grunted. “I ask myself that too, Counselor. Especially as it’s empty.”

Kami frowned. “Empty? What are you talking about? This and Cargo Bay 6 is filled to capacity.”

“Not anymore. We’re being tracked by Cardassians. The Captain’s faking our crashing onto some stupid planet to fool them, and is using the bodies as part of the illusion. He said not to let anyone in or say anything until he can talk to everyone later.”

She swallowed, nodding soberly, knowing such a decision wasn’t one Esek would have arrived at quickly, or lightly. Not that this would ease the likely responses from the survivors. “Where is she?”

Ree-Taan nodded to the opposite door. “She stopped making noise a couple of minutes ago.”

Kami nodded. “Thanks for calling me.” She turned and entered a cramped room of stacks of framed tubes that looked too much like the Morgue (Esek really has to think about getting this moved farther away, she told herself), each tube displaying status monitors confirming the suspended animation of the occupants too critically injured to be treated onboard.

She picked up the familiar scent before she saw the young woman, sitting on the floor in a back row, her back against one of the units. Closer now, Kami discerned nuances in the scent: exhaustion, anxiety, grief, anger… and the bloodied knuckles added to the picture.

Kami had a flashback to years ago, the day she first met Esek, fresh from his years of slavery and just beginning to go through post-traumatic stress. “I like what you’ve done with the place, Irina. The décor. Very Minimalist.”

Velkovsky didn’t respond; her honey-blonde hair was untangled from its usual ponytail, and now hung down over her face, half-covering her pale, slim, Nordic face.

Kami drew closer. “No wait, this isn’t your quarters. I’m confused; I thought you were supposed to be in your quarters, resting up.”

She remained motionless. “I’m not leaving him alone. It’s too cold in here.”

Kami felt her fur rise as if in confirmation. “It is, isn’t it? I know it normally isn’t, but we’re needing to conserve resources… which will be a waste if you end up in Sickbay with a chill-”

“He saved me,” the human muttered. “Pushed me out of the way of the Jem’Hadar beam.”

The Counselor took a place beside her, adjusting her tail and noting the cold seeping up through the floor despite the insulating properties of her uniform. “A heroic gesture.”

“A stupid gesture!”

Kami nodded in agreement. “They’re often one and the same. Believe me, I see enough of it from Esek. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve smacked him across the snout for risking his life to save someone.” She shook her head. “I would scream at him and tell him I hate him. Then I’d hold him so tightly and tell him I love him. They were both equally true.”

Velkovsky grunted, elbowing Neheru’s stasis unit, as if it could wake him. “I hate him. Big gangly bastard, with those legs longer than my whole freaking body.”

Kami chuckled, having witnessed the evolution in the relationship between the two officers since Neheru shed his threat tendrils, and with them his people’s innate preoccupation with caution… which obviously included interracial relationships. She glanced behind them. “How did they manage to fit him into one of these things?”

Velkovsky made a sound. “They practically had to fold him up.”

Kami wrapped an arm around the younger woman, hugging her tightly. “Go to bed, Irina. You can’t do anything further for him; he doesn’t even know we’re here. And we’re going to need you, to get him the help he needs. Okay?”

The human nodded.

Kami was about to nudge her up, when her pointed ears twitched at the sounds of the conversation outside. She tensed, and suggested, “Bed, Irina. Bed.” Then she rose and stepped back outside, seeing Ree-Taan face to face with one of the evacuees, the one who was at the meeting: Commander Zirangi, from the Iberia, the one who had asked about arranging visits to the Morgue. The Miradorn cadet stood at least a head taller than the woman, but the woman showed no evidence of intimidation as she looked up and said, “I told you to stand aside, Crewman.”

Ree-Taan was visibly attempting to cultivate the patience and professionalism that Kami had been assisting her and her twin with since their arrival on the ship, and replied with gritted teeth. “Ma’am, all the evacuees are supposed to remain in the Shuttlebay now. How did you get down here?”

“You should put better locks on your Jefferies Tube hatches. Now stand aside!”

Ree-Taan looked up at the appearance of Kami with visible relief. “Counselor!”

Zirangi turned, her challenging expression and posture directed towards the Caitian. “Counselor, your Captain assured us we could visit here! Why are we being kept locked up in your Shuttlebay?” She pointed behind her at the cadet. “And why do you need this big slab of beef to guard a morgue?”

Kami affected an air of calm composure, wanting to defuse the growing agitation from the woman. “I’m told we’re in the midst of a security situation. Why don’t we go to my office and talk-”

She reached out, but Zirangi grabbed her by the wrist. “I’m not going anywhere!”

Ree-Taan immediately drew closer, hand resting on the phaser on her belt, but Kami waved her back, gently but firmly extricating Zirangi’s hold on her as she asked, “Who have you come to see?”

The woman swallowed, relaxing her own posture, a little, and there was a hint of the grief welled up tightly behind her sepia eyes. “My husband, Mjowe. He was one of our ship’s doctors. He had been helping your own medical team in the Shuttlebay when the Jem’Hadar beamed in. He...” Then she steeled herself once more. “I want to see him again; I have a right to see his body!”

Kami regarded her. As soon as Ree-Taan had informed her of Esek’s actions, she knew this sort of confrontation would be inevitable. She wished she had been better prepared for this by her husband… but then she knew him well enough to believe that he would never have taken this action unless he had little choice and even less time to implement it. “Cadet, step aside.”

Ree-Taan bristled. “The Captain’s orders-”

“I’ll take responsibility. Step aside.”

Ree-Taan looked between the two superior officers, before complying. Kami indicated the Morgue door. “Commander?”

Zirangi looked at her, clearly wary now, obviously seeing the expression on the Caitian’s face, but accepted the invitation.

Now it was Kami’s turn to steel herself for the inevitable, as she followed the human inside.

*

As they drew closer, Hrelle could see Waterworld sparkling here and there, and realised it was th growing amounts of ice on it reflecting the distant starlight. “How deep are the oceans?”

“Averaging at 2 kilometres, Respected Captain, though the kelbonite in the water inhibits effective scanning. Sir, the aerodynamic shape of our vessel will aid our submergence, but the impact will still be considerable above 5 kilometres per second.”

“Acknowledged. You hear that, Giles?”

“Aye, Sir. I’ll go easy on penetration.”

“Not the first time he’s promised that,” Sasha murmured from the rear.

Hrelle glanced behind him, but Sasha offered a look of innocence in response, while beside her, C’Rash snickered openly.

As the moon dominated the viewscreen, there was a discernible deceleration, and T’Varik opened a shipwide channel. “All hands, be advised of turbulence, and unexpected manoeuvres.”

Hrelle gripped the arms of his chair again, as Giles announced, “Five.. Four… Three… Two…”

The ship dove into the black water with a jolt, and Giles activated the forward lights, illuminating the medium into a swirl of particles, reminding Hrelle of the swarms of tiny spinnerfins that follow in the wake of the larger sleeks back home, the ones his father taught him to watch out for on their boat. “Could there be life here?”

“Unlikely,” T’Varik responded. “The extreme temperature variations at such short intervals would preclude a stable environment for evolution.”

They shifted sharply. Hrelle watched Giles’ hands move over the controls. “Manoeuvring thrusters on Full. The currents are stronger than I expected.”

“It is the result of the rapid temperature drops,” Kit reported. “As well as the gravity shifts as the moon continues behind the ice giant. There may be slopes or crevices along the ocean floor where we can shelter from the currents.”

“Good idea, Kit,” Giles brought up several sensor screens overlaid on the viewscreen as he scanned the surroundings.

“So,” C’Rash started. “How long do we wallow down here? When will we know when the Cardassians have left?”

Hrelle heard the debris, the ice chunks, make drumbeats on the hull, reminding him of passing through a comet’s tail. There was also something… unnerving… about being deep underwater. The threat of death from exposure to space certainly equalled exposure to the depths of the ocean. He supposed it was something primal; space was empty, open. The oceans, even supposedly lifeless oceans like this one, hid things... “We stay as long as we can, which hopefully won’t be that long. Cardassians run on a combination of arrogance, laziness and impatience. With luck, they’ll arrive, draw the conclusions we want them to draw, never imagining that anyone in the Universe could outsmart them, and be eager to return to claim some glory elsewhere.”

*

Neraxis rechecked the phaser rifle setting, before handing it to Travers, nodding to the area near the doorway. “Keep it trained on the Jem’Hadar.”

She nodded, moving away. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Then she looked over at the other guards: Zir, Urad and the Miradorn twins, all armed, all tense, waiting.

In the first cell, Drurocc and the Cardassians were pressed at one side, watching the Jem’Hadar pacing on the other side. Growling. Occasionally they would bump into each other, and snarl, reminding Neraxis of a pack of Bolian rats trapped in some confined space. It was unnerving. “Jonas?”

Her husband was kneeling near an opened panel beside the adjacent cell. “As soon as Mr Yuluron arrives with the replacement exceiver junction-”

The Security Suite door opened… and Tori Emoto entered with the required part.

Jonas rose to face her, as did Neraxis and Kaldron, the temporary Chief Engineer drawing closer. “I asked Crewman Yuluron to bring this!”

“I know,” the young woman replied… unable to not keep glancing over at the other cell, where Drurocc and the others stood, watching from behind the force field. “He was having problems with the warp manifold status display, he shouldn’t have had to leave it to come here just to bring this.”

Jonas took the part, lowering his voice. “But it didn’t have to be you- you don’t have to face them-”

She steeled herself. “Lieutenant – Jonas – thanks for your concern. But I can handle it.” She looked at the prisoners defiantly. “I’m stronger than them.” She looked back at him. “Anything else, Sir?”

He shook his head, offering her an appreciative nod. “When you get back to Engineering, run another diagnostic on the Structural Integrity Fields, I want to make sure the repairs we’ve been doing haven’t diminished their effectiveness.”

“Aye, Sir.” She nodded at Urad and Zir and departed.

Still behind the force field, Drurocc crossed his arms and leaned against a wall, smirking. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she?”

With a swiftness belying his size, Urad swung his massive fist up, striking the force field where Drurocc’s head would have been, causing a loud feedback and making the Cardassian stagger back and fall over his fellow prisoners. He helped himself back up again, looking to Neraxis. “Are you going to let this brute act in this fashion?”

“I’ll do better than that, Dickhead,” the Bolian replied. “I’ll deactivate the internal recorders and leave him alone with you for five minutes. If he wants.” 

Everyone looked to the Hroch, who continued to stare at the prisoners, ultimately announcing, “What I would do to them would not take five minutes. But such an act would be unworthy of me.” He looked to Neraxis. “Thank you, but no.”

She nodded, smirking. “Good. I was just kidding anyway...”

*

Deck 1 Fore – Bridge:

It was eerie.

Hrelle sat, trying not to fidget, or ask for yet another status update after only two minutes since his last request. He listened to the voices of the various personnel around him, communicating with their respective departments in the rest of the ship. Everyone keeping busy.

Everyone else.

He couldn’t help feeling this way. Even as a cub playing Hide and Seek back home on the Archipelago, he had no patience whatsoever.

A shudder ran through the vessel, making him sit up and cast aside his boredom. “Seismic activity?”

“No, Respected Captain,” Kit responded. “It is the clash of rapidly-forming glaciers above us, as we continue around the giant.”

“And what’s the current temperature out there?”

“Minus twelve degrees Celsius.”

He shivered at the thought; that was worse than back home in the dead of winter. “I’ll forgo a quick dip, then.”

“Not that you couldn’t use the exercise,” Sasha murmured.

Hrelle looked to T’Varik. “Are you going to allow this disrespect to go unchallenged?”

T’Varik turned to look behind her. “Lieutenant Hrelle, your former position as Second Officer on the Ajax may have allowed you to speak in an irreverent manner about your commanding officer, but the Surefoot is a much more disciplined vessel, and your present Captain is an unforgiving martinet who does not appreciate puerile humour-” Then she stopped and looked back at Hrelle. “Forgive me, Sir, I cannot sustain the schmegegge.”

Hrelle raised an eyebrow. “Schmegegge?”

She nodded. “It is the Yiddish term for ‘nonsense’, ‘malarkey’-”

“I know what it means!” He glanced around. “Is it time to go yet?”

“That’ll depend on our pursuers,” C’Rash grunted, but then checked her station displays. “Maybe we should send a tactical probe to the surface, run some passive scans?”

“The kelbonite in the surrounding water will interfere with the telemetry,” T’Varik reminded her.

“Not if you program it to return to us. Closer up, the kelbonite shouldn’t interfere with main spectrum frequencies.”

T’Varik raised an eyebrow, looking to Hrelle again. “It is a feasible suggestion.”

Hrelle nodded. “Marriage to you must be having a positive effect on her.”

“Undoubtedly.”

C’Rash hissed at them both.

*

Deck 6 Mid – Morgue:

The room was never an inviting place; now, bereft of bodies, letting bootsteps echo, somehow its forbidding feel accentuated.

Kami had stood still, explaining as best she could with the limited information she had, while Zirangi paced the room, looking at the empty tables and alcoves, peering in, as if somehow expecting it to all be some horrible joke. Occasionally she looked over at the Counselor, her emotions raw and visible on her face.

Then there was silence. Zanagi stopped and shook her head slightly. “This- This is like some sort of nightmare out of Charles Dickens. How- How could Hrelle do that?”

“Commander-”

“Has he no sense of decency? Does he know what it’s like to lose a partner? Someone you love with all your heart?”

Kami fought to control her own reactions, her growing wellspring of emotion. “Yes. Yes, he does. We both do. We’ve lost spouses, and we weren’t able to be there to say goodbye to them. It… It took two months to have my first husband’s body brought back to me from where he was killed. It took seven years for Esek to be able to finally stand at his first wife’s grave and say goodbye.”

Zirangi paced again, hands balled into fists. “Then he has no excuse! No excuse at all! My husband died protecting others! He was a hero! They were all heroes! They weren’t props for your husband-”

Kami roared.

She knew it had been building up in her, building up since the attack in the Science Lab. And she had been fighting to keep it under control, to continue to do her job. She had to employ a lifetime of training, of self-discipline and self-control and she just had to focus and keep centred and help everyone else.

But all of that vanished now. Now there was nothing but a raw, primal eruption of anguish and anger. She dropped to her knees, her fists pounding on the bulkhead repeatedly, sending waves of pain through her arms that never reached the rest of her, her mane falling down around her head as she screeched at everything and nothing, until she was in danger of hyperventilating and passing out.

Distantly she looked up to see Zirangi staring at her with open confusion, concern and not a little fear. “Counselor, what-”

“MY SON!” she cried out, tears flowing down either side of her muzzle. “MY SON ALMOST DIED TODAY!” She gasped, choking before catching her breath again. “I- I- I told him to get updeck, to get away with his sister! I- I was r-ready to die- die, knowing they were safe- but he came back- came back to protect me- he could- he could have died- He’s only five years old! What- What the fuck am I doing out here, risking his life, my daughter’s life?” He covered her face. “What- What kind of mother am I?”

She felt the other woman kneel before her and hold her. And Kami shamelessly accepted the comfort, even as she sobbed, “I’m- I’m sorry- you’ve lost your husband today- I- I haven’t- haven’t lost anyone- I- I should be helping you- I’ve no- no right to- to-”

“Hush,” Zirangi assured her, hugging her, her own emotions emerging.

*

Hrelle watched the ice grow and thicken, based not on sensor data but what the computer could extrapolate from passive visual scans. The tremors were increasing. “How long until the probe returns?”

“It’s overdue,” Sasha responded. “By twelve minutes.”

“The currents,” Giles suggested. “They could be too strong for it to fight.”

“Or the Cardassians are just above us,” C’Rash responded. “And blew it up while they wait for us to emerge so they can do the same.”

There was a rumble, a steady one now, that reached Hrelle’s bones and made him stand up and peer at the blackness ahead. “What’s that?”

All eyes focused on a shifting of the ocean floor, kicking up silt and pushing it ahead, towards the Surefoot. Kit checked his readings. “Respected Sir, there is a massive iceberg forming, its ventral side is dragging along the bottom!”

He could see it now: the bottom half of an iceberg the size of a mountain.

Coming towards them. “Red Alert! Giles, lift us out of this crevice! NOW!”

The young helmsman moved quickly, and the ship rose and banked hard to port, against massive, chaotic currents, into waters that were quickly filling up with millions of chunks of ice of varying sizes, bouncing off the hull in ever increasing numbers.

Hrelle imagined he felt his ears popping as they ascended in a steep incline. “Find an opening in the ice above us!”

“There’s none!” T’Varik called back over the klaxon. “And icebergs are closing in around us!”

Hrelle’s hands balled into fists. “Arm forward phasers! C’Rash, Wide Sweep, Fire!”

He watched as the orange beams shot out, burning through the icy waters, fragmenting ice fragments along the way, and striking the ice covering the surface of the water, moving in a zig-zag pattern. He knew that C’Rash’s suggestion could be right, and that the Cardassians could be hovering in orbit around the moon, and now the Surefoot had just given itself away.

But choosing a slim chance of survival over none, he’ll take the slim. And ignore the inevitable teasing about him and anything slim.

They crashed through the shattered ice surface. “Tactical! Passive scans only! Any sign of them?”

Precious seconds passed as they continued upwards into space.

Then C’Rash finally replied, “Residual warp signatures, Cardassian wavelengths, about an hour ago.” She looked up, her tail swishing behind her. “Heading away.”

Hrelle felt his heart slow down… but only a little. “Stand down from Red Alert, but keep us at Silent Running. Giles, plot a course that won’t attract attention, and take us out, but keep us at one-quarter impulse until we leave the system.”

“That’s gonna add a day or two to our trip home,” Sasha pointed out.

“A delay would be preferable to being rediscovered,” T’Varik countered, looking to Hrelle. “It will require a reassessment of our existing resources-”

An alert on C’Rash’s Security console drew the black-furred female’s attention. “Captain, there’s an alert from the Shuttlebay; there’s some sort of disturbance among the evacuees. I don’t want to divert Neraxis and her team away from the Brig with its current occupants.”

Hrelle nodded. “Come on. Commander, you have the centre seat.”

*

The Caitians heard the commotion from the corridor as they entered the Shuttlebay, stepping around the line of Security personnel keeping back the large group of evacuees. Ensign Atiaro Thykrill led the team, literally standing there while Captain Price was practically in her face. “Listen, Missy, if you don’t want to jeopardise your career in Starfleet, you’d better-”

“You’d better not finish that sentence, Captain,” Hrelle intervened, literally stepping between Price and Thyrkill, turning to the latter. “What’s going on here?”

The Andorian woman straightened up. “Sir, we advised them that we had to restrict their visiting the Morgue until further notice, due to the ongoing emergency.”

“Captain Hrelle,” Price cut in, “As much as we’re grateful to you and your crew for rescuing us, we are not your prisoners!”

Now he turned to Price. “No one has said or implied that you were… but that doesn’t mean you have free rein to go where you like, when you like, especially during a Security Alert. And I would strongly recommend you not threaten any of my people again for just following orders.”

The human calmed down, a little. “Yes, perhaps. But as it appears your Red Alert, whatever it was, is over, we have hungry people who need to be fed, tired people who need to sleep, grieving people who wish to say goodbye to the friends and family they lost-”

Hrelle’s gut twisted. Seven Hells… He considered taking Price aside, breaking the news to him confidentially, and then having some pre-prepared statement made to the rest of them. But that would most likely cause even more hostile feeling, the longer he dragged this out. He cleared his throat and raised his voice. “The eating and sleeping schedules for the evacuees will resume. But there’s been a… change of circumstances involving viewing those who have died.”

“A change?” Price echoed. “What’s happened? Does it involve the Cardassians?”

“Yes. We were being pursued, surrounded. We couldn’t outrun them, or outfight them. Our only option at such short notice was to outwit them, by faking a starship crash on a planet, while we hid nearby.”

His words ran through the crowd behind Price, who nodded as he took it in. “The shuttles you sent out… the debris you beamed away… all of that was part of your plan?”

Hrelle nodded soberly. “But we knew – I knew – that with all our efforts, they could still doubt what they see. They… needed to believe the fatal nature of the apparent crash-”

“My God,” Price breathed, stepping back, looking appalled with the realisation. “You took the bodies, didn’t you? Didn’t you?

His shock seemed to ripple out through the crowd behind him. Hrelle looked out at them, responding to all of them as much as Price, and feeling like seven shades of shit. “Yes.” As the people behind him raised voices, he raised his own. “This was not an easy decision for me, far from it-”

“How dare you?” Price exclaimed. “You… stole the bodies of our shipmates? Our friends? Family members? And then dumped them somewhere, like they were so much garbage?”

“It wasn’t like that, Captain! I have a duty, to do everything I can to protect you, all of you-”

But Price shoved an angry finger at Hrelle’s snout. “You didn’t even give us a chance to say goodbye to any of them!”

“A lot of people today didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to people they lost!” C’Rash snapped, stepping forward.

Hrelle waved her back, facing Price once more, his heart racing from anger. And guilt. Mostly guilt. “There was no time to let people say goodbye. We act to act, and act quickly-”

“They were people we knew, people we lost-”

“They were our people as well!” Hrelle snapped back. “People we’ve known and worked with for years! But if I hadn’t taken the action I did, we could have ended up dead too-”

“So you say,” Price continued, his face red with outrage, turning around repeatedly to get the support of the people behind him. “Can you even understand what this means to us? What you’ve taken from us?”

“He does.”

Hrelle turned, as did others, as Kami appeared, alongside Commander Zirangi. The Wakandan woman approached Hrelle, though she addressed Price and the rest of the protestors. “He knows. And no matter how many people might tell him that he did the right thing, it’ll still eat at him.”

Price started, clearly not expecting the reaction from the woman. “Commander, I don’t know what your people’s customs are like, but many of us have time-honoured traditions regarding our deceased!”

“So do mine, Captain.”

“They had a right to be treated with dignity-”

“The dead have no rights.” She turned to the crowd, raising her voice. “No rights, no needs, no thoughts. The dead don’t care about being buried or burned or interred, or having memorials or wakes. Those are all things the living demand. They comfort us, reassure us. Whatever life inhabited the bodies we lived with has moved on.”

The crowd’s anger began to shift, and Price clearly sensed it, as he pressed on. “Commander Zirangi, you don’t understand-”

“I lost my husband of twelve years today, Captain Price,” the woman snapped back. “Don’t try to tell me what I do or do not understand. My husband Mjowe was as much a part of me as my arm, my heart. And now he’s gone, and I honestly don’t know what I’ll do, how I’ll go on.” She pointed at Hrelle. “But I do know that it wasn’t this man who killed him. This man, who has the responsibility of getting all of us to safety, by any means necessary.

And all of you, who have lost family, friends and shipmates today, and who are now converting your grief into anger, and directing it at Captain Hrelle, ask yourselves: did they die saving others? Would they do it again? And would they think any perceived reverence for their bodies, bodies they no longer need, would be worth risking our lives? I know what Mjowe’s response would be.”

She turned back to Hrelle, her face tight with emotion as she drew up to him. “You had to take a very difficult course of action, Captain. I don’t know many others who could have done the same. Speaking for my husband and myself: thank you.”

She held out her hand.

Hrelle gratefully accepted it.

*

Price had moved away from Hrelle and the crowds, knowing he had lost the side of the crowd thanks to Zirangi’s intervention. Well, he would still be filing a formal protest with Starfleet Command, and he certainly wasn’t going to let any of his people help out-

“Captain Price?”

He turned, to see Captain Sakuth stride up to him. “May I speak with you privately, please?”

Price grunted, letting her lead him to a relatively secluded spot between rows of newly-replicated hygiene stations. “What do you want, Captain? Shouldn’t you be kissing Hrelle’s ass again?”

“Captain Price… I need your help.”

He frowned. “Excuse me?”

The Vulcan breathed in, her voice a whisper. “What I am about to reveal to you must be kept between us. Not even your senior officers can know, and if asked afterwards, I will deny telling you anything.”

“Deny what?”

“My presence on this ship is no accident. I am on a classified mission from Admiral Ian Trenagen, Head of Starfleet intelligence; Captain Hrelle is under investigation, and has been for some time.”

Price blinked, echoing, “Investigation?”

She nodded. “He has a history of erratic, maverick behaviour, and a distinct lack of respect for protocol. You have surely seen it yourself. Look at how he had his children present at an official briefing. How he treated both of us, fellow Captains, and how he allowed his senior officers, all of them either family members or former cadets he has groomed under his command, to behave towards us. And now this travesty with the desecration of the dead.”

He grunted. “Commander Zirangi didn’t think so.”

“She had appeared alongside Hrelle’s wife; clearly the Counselor employed emotional manipulation on a woman who was still grieving. It wouldn’t be the first time he has escaped deserved censure.”

Price took in the woman’s words, finding it unnervingly convincing. But a part of him remained incredulous. “But- But he has a reputation as a tactical expert-”

“But who nevertheless has been assigned to command an ambulance ship instead of serving in a more important capacity with Starfleet Command.”

He blinked. It made so much sense. “Are you- Are you certain about all this?”

A look of concern etched Sakuth’s features. “Certain enough to reveal my mission to you. I am aware that the upper echelons look upon you as a redoubtable, dependable Commanding Officer.” She paused, flushing a slight shade of green. “And, if I may be uncharacteristically forward, a not unattractive human… Nathaniel.”

Price felt himself blush, his skin heat up and his pulse quicken, not accustomed to such compliments, such closeness; duty had never left him much time for personal relationships, and Sakuth wasn’t unattractive either. “Um, thanks. But how can I help?”

“By cooperating fully with Hrelle’s requests for personnel. If you can contrive to have as many of your crewmembers in place in key positions onboard the Surefoot, should it become necessary to assume command from him, it can be done with a minimum of conflict.”

“Assume command?”

“Should it become necessary. Can Starfleet count on you? Certainly, when we return to the Thirteenth Fleet, your cooperation will be remembered when vessels are delivered to replace those lost at Khavak, and Captains are being selected for them.”

Price swallowed, not having thought about that, having only just lost the Lynx. Of course there might be a fight for available commands, and there was no guarantee that he would be given another one, at least not right away, and here. “I’ll, uh, I’ll think about it.”

She nodded. “That’s all I ask.”

He suddenly became aware of Sakuth’s hand, her fingers, lightly touching his wrist, before releasing him. “What- What were you doing?”

She folded her hands behind her, formal once more. “What do you mean?”

“Why were you touching me like that?”

Her brow furrowed. “I was not touching you. Are you well, Captain?”

He blinked. No. No, she wasn’t touching him. Why did he think that? He shook his head. “Never mind.”

*

Deck 3 Fore – Officer’s Quarters:

Eydiir stood, arms folded challengingly. “I must insist you two take the bed.”

Jonas and Neraxis glanced at each other, before he replied, “We can’t do that, it’s your room, your bed.”

“You are married. You have conjugal rights. They are best employed in a bed.”

Neraxis smirked. “We don’t intend to exercise them in front of all you dirty bastards!”

Nearby, Kit and Giles were shifting aside furniture to make room for the newly-replicated sleeping bag rolls allocated to them and everyone else needing them, Kit looking up. “Respected Friends, if you wish us to leave the room for a period of time for you to have coitus-”

“No thank you!” the couple replied in unison.

“This is just like old times,” Giles was noting. “Thanks for putting us up, Eydiir.”

The Capellan grunted. “We are all required to accommodate as best we can under the circumstances. At least I am aware of all your individual nocturnal habits, and can pummel you for them without fear of censure.” She paused and asked, “Have you confronted Captain Sakuth about her actions?”

Giles paused, feeling his face turn red. “Not yet. I want to have a word with Captain Hrelle or Commander T’Varik… maybe have one of them with me when I do so.”

“She has not approached you yet, Best Friend Giles?” Kit asked.

He shook his head. “She’s probably too busy.”

“Or too ashamed?”

“She will have no shame.” Eydiir looked up at the sound of the door chime. “Enter.”

Sasha stepped inside, a sleeping bag roll under one arm and a package in her hand. “Is there a spot on the floor for one more?”

“You?” Eydiir frowned. “As Second Officer, you should be able to use Lt Neheru’s quarters, especially as he’s in Stasis.”

Sasha stepped inside. “It doesn’t feel right. And there are evacuees who have their whole families with them, and they could use the privacy.”

“That’s decent of you,” Giles noted, smiling. “Me, I might have taken advantage and invited your Lieutenant Madison around.”

She smirked at him. “We’re not involved anymore. But I’ll let him know about your interest.” She dropped her roll on the adjacent desk and began unwrapping the package. “Besides, this is something that all of Alpha Squad needs to partake in.”

Giles frowned, intrigued. “What is it? Booze?”

“The best.” She held up a dark-green bottle with an elaborately-crafted wicker covering. “I’d left this onboard before I departed for Advanced Command Training on Vulcan years ago. A bottle of Caitian wine, from the vineyards of Rrori’s clan.”

They all stopped and stared in silence.

“Have they confirmed what happened to his shuttle?” Jonas asked.

Sasha nodded. “Based on the trajectory he took, and the fact that he wasn’t fired upon, they think he encountered critical warp core failure, knew he couldn’t make it back to the Samaritan, and headed for the Surefoot, diverting his power to ensure his passengers beamed across safely.”

“I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Jonas commented.

“But at least he died heroically,” Eydiir pointed out, retrieving a number of small disposable cups from her bathroom, as Sasha uncorked the bottle. “And left people singing his praises.”

“It is a fate he would have preferred,” Kit quipped.

Sasha smiled wistfully. “Very true. I remember that first time he arrived, during that Grey Alert drill. He was locked in an adolescent hormonal surge and acting all hypermacho and competitive.”

“And you were acutely aroused by him,” Eydiir reminded her, handing out the cups.

“Remember when we were stopping off at Starbase 154,” Jonas asked, as Sasha poured some wine into his cup. “And he offered to let Kit study his sexual activities with the women at their bordello for a scientific paper?”

Kit nodded. “I received a Grade B for that report.”

Giles smiled. “And when he picked up that mange following our survey of that planet in Tagus III, and he was almost reprimanded by T’Varik for refusing to get out of bed to report for duty?”

Neraxis chuckled. “And when he gorged himself on those sexy Edenist women on that starship, and left his nethers needing an ice pack?”

Sasha laughed now with the memory of it. “He swore off women for all time when that happened… until two days later.”

Giles grinned. “He certainly liked his sex. It was his favourite subject.”

“That is inaccurate, Best Friend Giles,” Kit corrected. “His favourite subject was himself.”

Sasha filled her own cup and set aside the bottle. “To be fair, he was under a lot of pressure from his clan to succeed, at least, until he graduated. Well… he’s got people talking about him.” She raised her cup. “This one’s for you: Ensign Meow Rrori. Forever Alpha Squad.”

The others followed. “Ensign Meow Rrori. Forever Alpha Squad.”

*

Deck 3 Mid – Alpha Squad Cadet Quarters:

Zir had not felt this exhausted since her first week undergoing Physical Training at the Academy. Her back ached like there was a knife embedded in there, and she still felt the bruises from her fighting with the Cardassians.

The sonic shower informed her that because of power restrictions, her time would be limited to one minute per day, so she made the most of it, letting the waves wash over her, before slipping into more casual clothes and returning to the common room. “It’s free now.”

Urad dominated the couch, cradling a bowl of Hrochi cornballs, his vest displaying his disruptor burns. “I will pass, Comrade Squad Leader. My body frame is too large to appreciate only a minute’s worth of showering. I will save up my minutes for the end of the week.”

On the floor, Tori knelt beside Stalac, working on the Horta’s combadge, repairing the earlier damage. “You mean we’re gonna have to suffer your freaking funk for the next five or six days?” She tapped on Stalac’s hide. “You’re lucky you don’t have a nose.”

Nearby, Peter sat on one of the chairs, while Astrid stood behind him, working his injured shoulder and arm, apparently healed but still suffering the aftereffects. “I suspect we’ll all start feeling the pinch.”

Zir reached for one of their remaining bottles of beer. “Pinch?”

Peter winced at the treatment. “Terran expression.” His eyes widened. “That’s- That’s actually feeling better, Astrid, thanks.”

The woman patted his shoulder. “I’ve had enough experience from water skiing injuries at Key West and Adraica Bay.” Then she looked at Zir. “Cher Dieu, get over here, girl! Peter, be a gentleman and give up your seat to our Fearless Leader.”

Zir frowned. “What? What’s wrong?”

Astrid strode into the bathroom without answering, returning with her brush set. “We have to deal with that rat’s nest on your head.”

“What? There’s nothing wrong with my hair! I ran a comb through it!”

But Peter gently guided her to the chair, smiling. “Come on, girl, relax, you’ve had a rough day.”

Zir reluctantly sat down. “Me? No! I’ve had it easy compared with the rest of you!”

They all looked at her. Stalac made a rumbling sound, and Tori offered, “He says you’re full of shit. And he’s right.”

“This is not a competition, Comrade Squad Leader,” Urad reminded her.

Zir felt herself turn a darker shade of green, and she looked around. They had all been attacked, wounded, their lives threatened. Everything had changed irrevocably from today, and they would be feeling the effects for days, weeks to come. And then they would be expected to get up tomorrow morning and do it all over again...

Then her thoughts melted away, and she felt herself relax, as Astrid gently worked her brush through the Orion’s hair, managing to deal with the knots Zir didn’t have the patience to deal with herself, and without causing any discomfort. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “That feels good.”

“My pleasure, Fearless Leader.”

They were silent for a moment.

Then Peter announced, “We’re all going to be okay.”

Zir opened her eyes again, looking around at her squadmates, her friends. She remembered being in the Arboretum with them, almost eighteen hours ago, before the battle began, and they pledged their love, their devotion to each other. It seemed a lifetime ago now. “Yes. Yes, we are. We’re Alpha Squad.”

Astrid looked down at her and smiled. “We are beautiful.”

Urad nodded, smiling. “We are invincible.”

Tori smiled. “Fuck, yeah.” Then there was a beeping sound from Stalac’s combadge, and Tori made a final adjustment. “And what do you say, Rocksteady?”

The Horta rumbled, and then from his combadge came, “Escuadrón Alpha no puede ser derrotado!”

*

T’Varik knelt on the floor, unable to centre herself.

No. It was not there. Her centre was lost.

But she would not despair. She was merely temporarily in flux. Her composure would return, in time.

She forced further thoughts aside as she heard her partner finish her ablutions in their bathroom and emerged naked, her tail swishing behind her. “That feels good. Bed will feel even better.” She drew up to T’Varik, letting her tail caress the Vulcan’s face. “Bed with you will feel best of all. Unless you need more time to meditate.”

“I do not.”

“Are you sure? Have you’ve worked through your experiences on the Bridge?”

“Yes. I’m feeling fine.” She rose, grasping C’Rash by the waist and guiding her to their bed.

*

The children of the Vancouver slumbered in sleeping bags on Jhess’ living room floor, with a single chemical lamp glowing in the corner. Jhess reclined on the couch, lightly strumming on his frettercast, before finally setting aside the acoustic instrument, smiling at his companion, nodding off on the other side of the couch. He kept his voice a murmur to not disturb the children. “Shirley?”

The Counselor stirred, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologise for. You’ve had an eventful day. Take my bedroom, I’ll sleep out here.”

“No, no, I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.”

He shrugged. “You’re not. Cats can curl up anywhere.”

Shirley leaned back and regarded him in the intimate light. “I’ve heard about Caitians, but I’ve never met one before today. Now I’ve met five.”

Jhess smiled. “I hope we haven’t disappointed.”

She smiled back. “The first one gave up his life to save these children and me. The second one generously took us into her home and gave us respite from the chaos of the day. The third and fourth were the cutest, most adorable kids. And the fifth has been the most caring, funny, patient and understanding man I could imagine. If the rest of your people back on Caitia are the same, I’ll have to move there.”

Jhess reached for his teacup. “Cait’, not ‘Caitia’. It comes from the Old Caitian ‘Cae-shaa’, meaning ‘New Home’. We migrated to our present homeworld a thousand years or so ago.”

“Oh, sorry.”

He drained the remains of his herbal tea and set aside the cup. “Again, nothing to apologise for. Go to bed; we’ll have a busy morning, programming the Holodeck.”

The human regarded him, offering a smile and, “You don’t have to sleep out here.”

He knew; he’d picked up her scent, and her body language. “I’m not uninterested, Shirley, believe me. But I’d like to see if you feel the same way once the adrenaline of today wears off. Besides, it’d be best if one of us was out here on the first night, in case one of them wakes up and needs the toilet, or just reassurance of where they are.”

She nodded reluctantly at that, rising carefully so as not to disturb the children, and walked past him… stopping to reach out and stroke the side of his muzzle. “Good night, Jhess.”

He purred a little... and just as reluctantly drew back. “Good night, Shirl.”

*

Hrelle sat quiet and alone in his quarters, in what humans would have called total darkness.

Then his wife emerged from their bedroom, approaching his chair, crouching beside him, her voice low, intimate. “Sreen is asleep in her crib. Misha is in our bed, so don’t expect any action tonight. In fact, don’t expect to have much of the bed at all, he’s sprawled out like- well, like you...” Kami leaned in and rubbed the side of her muzzle against his. “You’re exhausted. You’ve gone through the Seven Hells today.”

“We all have. So many were killed- you and Misha- having my family with me in the middle of a battle- what kind of man thinks that’s a good idea?”

Kami wrapped her arms around him. “I hate to break it to you, Captain, Sir, but unlike all your other decisions, the final say never lay with you alone. We’ve argued about this more than once, and I’ve been uncharacteristically stubborn in insisting your family stay onboard with you.” She sighed. “And I’ve had my own share of guilt too today. And will do for some time to come.

But we won’t solve this tonight. We shouldn’t even try.”

He sat there, nodding. “We need a memorial. Something for those who have fallen. Something people can visit, alone or with others, where they can reminisce, or pray, or just pay their respects.”

“You’re still feeling guilty.”

He nodded. “I don’t regret doing it. Just that I had to do it when people’s emotional wounds were still open and raw. And though Commander Zirangi helped defuse a lot of the anger and hurt everyone understandably felt...”

“It will take time. You’re right, Esek. But that’s something else you can’t solve tonight.”

He grunted. “Is there anything I can solve tonight?”

“Yes: your family needs your presence in our bedroom, so that we’re complete.”

He made a sound, and rose to his feet, slipping an arm around her waist, their tails caressing each other. “‘Uncharacteristically stubborn’? Really?”

“Watch it, Mister, my Protector’s in our bed tonight...”

He smiled, ready to surrender to fatigue, even as his mind truculently continued to ponder the memorial. Sentient races had such diverse ideas about death and what awaits them beyond, if anything. 

He wondered if anyone had the definitive answer...

*

Nearby:

The Klingon raced down the corridor, his boots pounding on the marble surface, his passing making the rich red curtains hanging in intervals on the walls on either side flutter.

His name was Karpog, of the House of D’Ghunn. And he would die today without fear, and join his ancestors in Sto-Vo-Kor. Today was a good day to die.

But if he escaped… well, that wouldn’t be too bad, either.

But it was finding his way out of this bizarre ship he and his men had boarded that proved a trial. It was labyrinthine, with stone walls and floors and thick red curtains and a smell of chemicals and decaying flesh. And those… creatures, lurking in the shadows… and that human- no, he couldn’t have been human! No human could resist-

Karpoq stumbled as he turned a corridor, his ears hearing the approaching whine of one or more of those petaQ objects which had killed Rocut, Kusq and Mucir. He was drawing his disruptor-

When it flew from his hand as if smacked from it, sending it hurtling down the corridor.

A huge, shadowy figure stepped up to him from nowhere. Karpoq drew his blade from his belt, snarling his challenge. “Veqlargh! qaDta'bogh veqlargh jIH!”

And that was when the silver Spheres caught up with him, two soaring through the air, hooked blades emerging from the front of each of them, swiftly impaling his forearms into the wall behind him.

Agony shot through Karpoq, making him drop his blade. No! NO! He needed to die with his blade in his hand! This was- this was-

The humanoid figure stepped up: a tall man, pale and ancient and wrinkled, dressed in generic plain dark civilian clothes, with receding grey hair and a penetrating gaze. He spoke with a voice that was like dirt shovelled into a burial pit. “You played a good game, Klingon. But the game is over. Still… you earned a reward for entertaining me. And so I give you… Revelation.”

Karpoq felt the blood pour from his wounds where the Spheres had penetrated his arms. But he would not be made to beg! He would die with honour! “Qaj! ’etlh Hinob!”

The Tall Man raised an eyebrow, before glancing down, seeing Karpoq’s dropped mek’leth blade. He bent down, picked it up, and seemed to regard its sharp, curved, pronged features, as he continued to speak. “The Revelation is thus: there is no Sto-Vo-Kor. No Heaven, no Vorta Vor, no Celestial Temple, no Divine Treasury, no Great Forest, no Gloried Way After.”

He snapped the mek’leth blade like a twig, and threw the pieces aside.

And then he leaned in, his voice becoming almost intimate. “When you die… you come to us…”

And then, Karpoq felt fear.

“And now… time to die...



THE ADVENTURES OF THE SUREFOOT WILL CONTINUE...

10 comments:

  1. Oh. My. Word. Of course Sakuth is up to her usual tricks, but hopefully they catch the bitch soon. Hrelle's decision was definitely not an easy one - and I'm glad that commander was made to see reason, even if it was through Kami's own breakdown.

    And of course, you wrote an ending that just leaves us wanting more. Well done.

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    1. Thanks, CHristina! So, you won't be putting Sakuth on your Christmas card list, then? The poor woman just can't catch a break...

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  2. Good story, I especially liked the one-liners that were sprinkled throughout. Great job of showing how we don't always have time to stop and properly grieve when we want to. I like the potential for the interactions of the Alphas, should make for some interesting story lines. And to leave us with the giant tease like that...vicious.

    P.S. When is that bitch going to get what she deserves?

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    1. Thanks, David! I'm hoping to lighten the tone a little after teh Dark Heavy Stuff of the battle, though it's still not back to normal for the crew. Assuming it can ever be.

      Wow, another Sakuth hater. You try to blow up a ship, almost phaser a toddler, and manipulate a few minds for your own selfish ends, and people see you as some sort of bad guy...

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  3. Holy sh!-
    Esek, this is incredible! Like others, I thought that "Deep Six" would be another counseling session with Wheelie, but this chapter did what Roddenberry imagined, "To Boldly Go Where No One Has Gone Before."
    Maybe not physically, in terms that this is Star Trek, after all, but into the hearts and minds of your readers. Few stories -indeed few authors- dig into the emotions, the turmoils of war, grief, loss, and the often underlying anger and even hopelessness that go with them.

    I held up a bottle as Alpha Squad I toasted their fallen bretheren, Meow Rrori. My heart nearly stopped as Kami was swallowed in her own grief and anguish. And I cheered in the moment when Zirangi quelled the unrest against Hrelle's actions. Well done, Esek. Well Done.

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    1. P.S. The cliffhanger "Nearby" seems to reference the Sphere Builders that were hinted at in Captain Archer's explorations. Are these the same? Or something else?

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    2. Thank you for your compliments, Linksword2! I do want to bring Wheelie back, I liked him far too much to leave him a one-off, but I'm glad you liked that I dealt with the emotional repercussions of the battle, and with how characters had to face death and loss.

      As for the epilogue, it's not the Sphere Builders (though they'd be an intriguing group to revisit), but it will be a crossover with a certain horror movie franchise of the 80s and 90s that involved Spheres, Tall Men and the dead...

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  4. I miss Surefoot and the crew. :(

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  5. Me too Jack. Just hoping everything and everyone is ok.

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    1. Yes, David, Jack, my apologies for the delay, circumstances beyond my control. But I hope to have something up before the end of the week. It won't be an immediate continuation of the current storyline, but I hope you will like it :-)

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