The Burning World - Part 1

 

Dominion Support Vessel 323-742-5669, Hellbaum Sector:

Vonbran leaned back in his chair and rubbed his deep violet eyes, fighting off the exhaustion that had been plaguing him for the last several days, the closer they approached the Test Site. He had to make sure that everything was perfect, everything was right. The alternative... the alternative...

“Vorta.”

Vonbran rose to his feet when he saw the Jem’Hadar enter: two soldiers, led by their First, Asara’sos. Vonbran tensed, as he always did when Asara’sos appeared, their beady reptilian eyes fixed on Vonbran like prey. It was a widely-held belief that the genetically-engineered soldiers of the Dominion were almost as loyal and obedient to the Vorta as they were to the Founders.

It was a belief without much foundation. In truth, without the Vortas’ control over the Jem’Hadar’s Ketracel White to keep them in line, these gruff, ugly feral monsters would rip into Vonbran and turn him into some sort of paste. They still might, if Asara’ros ever receives the Word. The Word that the Founders were fed up with Vonbran’s lack of progress, and were ready to kill the Vorta and replace him with his clone successor.

He was currently Vonbran-7. He had come to life four months ago when Vonbran-6 was liquidated over his last major failure. And he knew nearby, Vonbran-8 was waiting, waiting to accept Vonbran-7’s accumulated memory engrams, periodically updated and stored.

Still, he didn’t have to end up like his previous versions. He was a brilliant scientist, if he did say so himself, and his initial experiments had been promising. Certainly promising enough for the Founders to give him a ship, a small Jem’Hadar task force, and the freedom to test it out on a planetary scale.

He could do this. He would do this. “Is there a reason for this disturbance at such a critical time?”

Asara’ros regarded him, glancing with disdain at the chair Vonbran preferred, the Jem’Hadar seeing such items as displays of weakness… then offering the same disdain to Vonbran himself. “We have entered orbit, Vorta. There are Federation grain freighters fleeing the system. We are prepared to destroy them.”

Vonbran regarded him; the Jem’Hadar was a valuable resource to the Founders and the Dominion, but they could be vexingly fixated on their insatiable lust for combat. “Civilian ships? No Starfleet vessels?”

“No, Vorta.”

“Then let them go.”

“What?”

“Chase them out of the system, but do not fire unless fired upon first. We are here to bring order to the people of the Alpha Quadrant, not needless destruction.” He smiled. “We are not barbarians.”

The First and his two guards bristled. And almost protested. But Asara’ros straightened up. “There are vessels on the planet, preparing to launch.”

Vonbran nodded thoughtfully. “No doubt wishing to escape as well. Shoot down any that reach orbit; they’ll get the message, and stay planetside. I want test subjects on the surface for when the Conflagrators sweep over- what’s this place called again?”

“Gault, Vorta.”

Vonbran smiled; he knew, of course, but wanted to make Asara’ros answer to him in front of his soldiers. “Gault, yes. Put us in orbit, while I make the final calibration to the warheads. You may leave.”

They didn’t leave.

Vonbran tensed, but otherwise showed no reaction as he asked evenly, “What is it?”

Asara’ros nodded to the equipment in the rear of the lab. “The orders are for you to update and transmit your brain engrams on a daily basis, Vorta. In case something should happen to you.”

He stared back. You mean, in case you get the orders to turn me inside out. Or even if you don’t get the orders. But he smiled and nodded, mentally preparing himself for the rather unpleasant process ahead. “Of course. Victory is Life.”

“Victory is Life,” Asara’ros chanted in reply.

And pointed his gun in the direction of the engram recorders, and the tank containing his potential successor.

No, my erstwhile replacement. I am not ready to let you take over just yet.

*

SS Claridon, Deck 11 Poolside:

Ensign Zir Dassene reclined in the deck chair, staring up with wonder through the dome to the planet the ship was orbiting, a beautiful, terrifying gas giant of swirling lavender and lime colours, with tiny planetoids in tighter orbits moving between the two.

The pool area was crowded, but everyone else seemed more interested in splashing about, drinking and flirting, while music played distractingly from speakers near the bars. Zir didn’t begrudge anyone their fun, however; the passenger liner had been contracted by Starfleet to provide shore leave to personnel near the front lines, whenever there were no planets or other facilities nearby. And the Thirteenth Fleet certainly needed it.

She was clad in her plain black one-piece swimsuit, a modest costume compared with what many of her comrades preferred. She didn’t care, though at least she had grown enough in confidence not to be self-conscious about being ogled by others; it helped that, unlike the last time she had worn it, on Sherman’s Planet, she wasn’t surrounded by lascivious civilians who wanted to hit on an Orion girl, given her people’s reputation.

Her world, her people, seemed so far away these days. And not just astronomically.

Her attention returned to the here and now, as a tall, pale-skinned human male with short, straw-coloured hair, clad in a baggy sleeveless shirt, shorts and sandals, approached, carrying tall, skinny, colourful drinks in his hands, handing one to her as she sat up, and he took a seat on an adjacent deckchair. “Sorry it took so long; there was a big crowd at the bar.”

Zir sucked from the straw in her glass, her eyes widening at the tartness of the liquid… and the potency of the alcoholic components. “Yes… and I saw a big, handsome barman there too. Did I see him whisper something to you?”

Peter Boone flushed a little at her observation. “Maybe.”

“His cabin number?” she invited with a sly grin.

He tasted some of his own drink and pretended to be distracted by some poolside hijinks, responding only with, “Maybe.”

Zir’s smile became a grin, feeling herself blush as well at the memory of her early days on the Surefoot, when she had first met Peter, and had allowed herself to be strongly attracted to him, before learning he was gay. Then she recalled the amused advice from Counselor Hrelle on the subject: You’re allowed to be attracted to someone you know won’t return it, so long as you don’t let it affect how you otherwise interact with them. “Are you packed and ready to go?”

Peter nodded. “The transport is scheduled to depart here tomorrow at 0600 Hours.”

“Think you’ll have enough time to get together with Mr Hunky Barman?”

He sipped his drink, smacking his lips. “No... but it’s nice to be asked.” He looked at her. “Are you sure you don’t mind me going?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s your daughter! If you have the chance to go visit her, take it! How often are we that close to Gault, and with enough off-duty time for you to get there and back?” She sipped again. “Especially after all we’ve been through.”

He nodded. “Thanks. I’d invite you guys along, but… it’s all farms. Farms, and people talking about farming.” He shrugged. “Stalac might enjoy burrowing, though.”

Zir chuckled. “At least it’ll get him out of the casino; he’s barely left it since we boarded yesterday. I think he’s developed a gambling addiction.” She sipped again. “You’re gonna get me drunk.”

“It’s medicinal; Doctor’s Orders.”

“You’re still studying. And aren’t you going to be specialising in Counseling?”

“Still applicable. I want to make sure you actually relax while I’m not here, and not worry about us.”

“I’m not worrying.”

He smirked. “Hence the talks you gave to Tori about not getting into fights, or Urad about not overindulging in the Cafe, or Astrid about not… well, being too much Astrid. Think about yourself for a change.” His expression sobered a little. “Have you heard from Niles?”

Her own expression mirrored his now as she nodded, and drank more deeply, as if to avoid responding as long as possible. “He’ll be back on Earth in two weeks… out of Starfleet. He’s sorry he couldn’t handle the pressures. He’s sorry for leaving us. And he… dropped hints about our remaining a couple, despite his decision.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

She breathed out, feeling the alcohol reaching her head now, and wishing she had eaten more for dinner earlier that night. “I told him No. It wouldn’t work out for either of us. He needs to recover from the traumas he experienced and think about a new direction for his life.”

“So do you,” Peter pointed out.

She nodded. The events of the Battle of Khavak had affected them all, in varying ways: as victims… and as killers. They had been given an initial clearance by the Counseling staff upon their reunion with the Thirteenth Fleet, but that didn’t mean they were magically over what they had undergone.

For Niles Angstrom, a young, gentle Medical cadet on another squad who had become someone very special in Zir’s life for a brief time, his recovery took him out of Starfleet, and out of Zir’s life. She didn’t begrudge him that; more than a few people had left the Service, or were discharged, because of the War. “When we last talked, he was dropping hints that we could still have something, despite the distance and his leaving Starfleet. I told him we would always mean something to each other, but not in a romantic way.” She looked up. “Did I do right?”

Peter smiled, momentarily distracted by a passing broad-shouldered, tanned man wearing very little, before responding. “As a Counselor-In-Training, I wouldn’t be qualified to say. As your friend, I’d say Yes. I think Niles was important for you, your first real intimate partner – one you chose, not one forced upon you – and I’m sure you’ll always remember him affectionately. But I don’t think either of you wanted to settle down, marry and have a passle of kids.”

Her eyebrows rose. “‘Passle’?”

“One of Doc Masterson’s words.”

“Of course. And did he say how much was in a passle?”

“I didn’t dare ask.”

Zir smiled and drank again, agreeing with Peter’s assessment of her own situation, and glad that he seemed to be on the same wavelength with her. He was going to be a fine Counselor-

“Hello, you two.”

Both turned to see the approach of a shapely, chocolate-skinned human female with a mane of sable hair and a slinky, shimmering Tholian silk evening dress, scrutinising them both as she approached. “Midnight drinks by the pool.” She glanced up to see the gas giant. “Neither of you will be getting a tan under that.”

“Evening, Astrid.” Zir glanced down at her friend’s shoes, ones with incredibly long pointed heels – how in the Gods’ names can anyone walk in those? – once again filled with admiration and envy at not only at Astrid Michel’s beauty but also her poise and confidence in every situation. “Putting the rest of us to shame as usual in the fashion stakes, I see. How was the singer?”

The Squad’s Flight Ops Specialist offered a theatrical gasp. “‘Singer’? How very dare you, Fearless Leader! Diva Plavalaguna is one of the most talented and revered operatic artists in the Quadrant.” She reached for Zir’s drink, taking it and drinking from it without any reaction to the alcohol. “Mmm, nice, but any more of these and you two will end up going Bumpers.”

“Not likely,” both of them said in reply.

Then Astrid took on a slightly serious expression. “I was leaving the Theatre to join Stalac in the Casino, when I saw our other esteemed squadmates in the Slaughtered Lamb. Our Gearhead’s overindulged herself again, and is getting mouthy and refusing to listen to Urad.”

Zir rose to her feet, immediately feeling the effects of the alcohol she had imbibed, but shaking it off as best she could, her concern for her friends. “Come on, it’s late anyway, and I want everyone to say goodbye to Peter before he leaves for Gault in the morning.”

They padded their way out and down to a deck below on the Promenade, where the ship’s themed bars, shops and snack facilities sat, Zir’s concern for Tori barely contained. Of them all, Tori Emoto’s experiences at the hands of the Cardassian boarders on the Surefoot was perhaps the most intense and personal.

Yes, Zir knew that those animals hadn’t the time to actually rape her friend, and that her own experiences with being a victim of sexual assault while escaping Orion space had been more prolonged and graphic… but this wasn’t a competition of ordeal. Tori was still reeling from it, despite her denials. ‘Mired in the Anger Stage’, as Counselor Hrelle had put it. They needed patience to help her leave that and enter the other recovery stages. Which Zir and the others were prepared to do.

Assuming Tori didn’t punch out the Galaxy first.

The Slaughtered Lamb was a drinking establishment themed around some Terran place and age that Zir half-recognised from ancient videos, with elaborately-carved chairs and tables, stained-glass windows, brass fittings and faux-gaslit wall and ceiling lights. The three of them quickened their pace on their approach, as they heard shouts from within, and then knocked over chairs.

They entered to see a dozen or more patrons crowded together, gaping within intimidated looks at the sight of a slight Terran female with Asian features and casual clothes, kept from launching an attack on them by a massive grey-skinned arm, attached to an equally-massive, grey-skinned bipedal pachydermoid in a tight-fitting Hawaiian shirt and white trousers. Despite his obvious superior strength, his voice was almost pleading. “Please, Comrade Tori, these are not worthy targets for your righteous wrath!”

The young woman continued to struggle, snarling, “Let me go, Urad! I haven’t kicked enough of them in the balls!”

“Stand down, Ensign!” Zir snapped. “That’s an order!” When she saw Tori calm down – a little – and saw Astrid move to mollify the staff behind the bar to keep them from calling their own Security, and then she asked, “What happened?”

Tori kept staring hard at the other patrons, leaving Urad to explain, “Comrade Tori was engaged in some boisterous bawdy Karaoke singing, and she reacted badly to some critics from the nearby tables.”

“It was just a joke!” one of them explained, swaying slightly.

Zir waved him off, drawing closer to Tori, Peter beside her as she focused on her squadmate. “Ensign… you’ve had enough. Time to call it a night.”

Peter drew closer, but made a point of not reaching out to touch her, smiling. “Yeah, Tor, I’ll be away first thing in the morning. Let’s all have a good night drink in one of our cabins.”

Tori calmed down further.

Until one of the other patrons added, “Yeah, get the yappy little bitch back on a lead.”

Urad immediately released his hold on Tori, pushing her aside before knocking over another table to step forward, arms extended, hands balled into fists as big as most humanoid heads, as he bellowed, muzzle wide, “REPEAT THAT INSULT, SCOUNDRELS! I DARE YOU!”

The room tensed.

Until a large irregular lump of golden-brown mineral slithered in, the Starfleet combadge bolted to his side carrying a computer-generated male voice opining loudly, “Gosh, I hope I’m interrupting something! I must confess to be thinking of giving up Starfleet and becoming a professional gambler on Kasperia Prime or Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet!”

Astrid turned to him. “Have you won again, Stalac?”

Zir glanced at her, wondering why she would be asking that at such a moment.

“My pockets would be bulging,” the Horta replied. “If it wasn’t all in ship’s credits. And I had pockets.”

Astrid smiled. “Then maybe you wouldn’t mind sparing a few, to buy everyone here a round to smooth things over… and to tip our hard-working bar staff here for their discretion in not reporting this incident?”

“Gladly! My good fortune is everyone else’s good fortune!”

As the pub settled down again, and Stalac rumbled over to provide the necessary credit transaction, Peter guided Tori and Urad to the exit, while Zir sided up to Astrid, murmuring, “Nice save.”

Astrid grinned, slipping an arm around Zir from behind. “I’ve had plenty of experience quelling bar fights; they usually start over me.”

Zir grunted. “Well, you can accept my thanks, Ensign.”

“You’re welcome, Fearless Leader.”

“You can also get your hand off my ass.”

“Spoilsport.”

*

They managed to return to their cabins without further incident, Tori flopping onto her bed fully clothed, muttering to herself. Zir stood nearby. “This isn’t over, Ensign. We need to have a good long talk tomorrow-”

But Astrid, standing there removing her high heels, cut her off. “No point in saying anything now; I’ll stay up a while and keep an eye on her, in case she’s sick. The rest of you, go back to your cabins.” She smirked, turning her back slightly to reveal the fasteners on her gown. “Unless someone wants to stay and keep me company?”

“I would,” Stalac quipped. “But I promised my egg-mother before I left my planet that I would save myself for my Wedding Night.”

When Stalac and Urad entered their own cabin, modified by the ship’s crew for their own unique needs, Zir pointed a finger in the latter’s face, her expression taut. “As for you, Ensign Kaldron: those were fellow members of Starfleet, not the enemy. You intimidate people more than you know with just your presence, without even your shouts and declaration of your readiness to combat. Do you understand?”

The hippo-like Hroch somehow suddenly looked very small and vulnerable. “They… They insulted Tori-”

Zir stuck her pointed finger against his snout, between his enlarged round nostrils, feeling the hot breath from them. “Do… you… understand?”

Urad drew back, and nodded.

“Now go to bed… and no more fooling around.”

Stalac was crawling into the environmental chamber the liner’s crew constructed for him to sleep inside. “Yes, Mom...”

“Good night.” As the door slid shut and she moved across to the cabin she was sharing with Peter, she shook her head. “Am I never gonna be off-duty?”

He chuckled as they entered and moved to their respective beds, larger and more comfortable affairs to what they had on the Surefoot. “You mean, not scolding us? Probably not.”

Zir slumped on the bed, too tired to even get out of her swimsuit. “We’re idiots at heart.”

Peter sat down on his, reaching for a locket on the table between the beds. “Or… we’re family.”

“Maybe the same thing.” Zir smiled as she stared up at the ceiling. “Do you think it’s like that everywhere in Starfleet? Or just under Papa Cat’s influence?”

“I won’t question it.”

She glanced in his direction, seeing the tiny holoprojector locket in his hand, activated to reveal a tiny image of his six year old daughter Abby, a golden-haired charming beauty. Peter and Zir talked at great length about her: how she had been conceived with his friend Claire Hastings when he was barely in his teens, still exploring his sexuality, and how he had joined Starfleet, specialising in a role he couldn’t initially stomach, in order to graduate and provide a better home for Abby than what awaited her if she remained in their collective on the farmworld of Gault. He stared with obvious love and longing at the image.

She smiled. “You know, you still have time to visit that hunky barman.”

He smiled back, shaking his head and reaching for the light controls. “I have to get up early for that transport ship. I’ll be as quiet as I can when I wake.”

*

He wasn’t.

Zir heard him speaking with someone, and the urgency in his voice stirred her awake. She sat up on her elbows, squinting in the illumination of the communicator set on the nearby table, where Peter sat, the handset pressed against the side of his head as he spoke with someone on the other end. “But can’t you tell me anything? There has to be more than that! I have to get there! You-” Frustration and anxiety creased his features. “Thank you. Please let me know if you hear anything more.”

Zir sat up and brought up the room lights. “What’s happened?”

He stared at the text on the screen. “The transport that was scheduled to stop at Gault has been cancelled, indefinitely. Something about a security incident in the system.”

“Incident? What incident?”

He slammed the handset down into its casing. “They wouldn’t tell me! Damn civilians!”

She knew what he meant, having grown accustomed to working on a Starfleet vessel, with instant access to sensors, communications, weapons, medicines… She moved to change into other clothes. “Come on, finish getting dressed. We’ll go get some answers.”

*

Alpha Squad’s shuttle, like all the other shuttles used by those who arrived here from the Fleet on shore leave, was stored in the Claridon’s voluminous Hangar Bay. Zir and Peter now sat in the cockpit, listening in disbelief to the words from the image of the Surefoot’s First Officer T’Varik. “The intelligence on the details of the incursion into the Gault system is incomplete; several civilian freighters confirmed the arrival of Dominion vessels, and a communications blanket over the immediate area.”

Zir glanced over at Peter, without wanting to be too obtrusive about seeing his reaction to the news, before responding. “Commander, why would they want to take over Gault? It’s remote, not strategically important, there are no Starfleet bases or facilities there-”

The Vulcan frowned. “Starfleet Intelligence, and Captain Hrelle, believe that the Dominion will be aware of the increased importance of Gault as a source of food, in the midst of the massive refugee crisis and the shortage of replicators and base matter. Their seizing the planet will inevitably have a significant impact on us.”

“What about the people on Gault?” Peter asked, his voice cracking. “What will they do to them?”

T’Varik’s image drew in. “It is suggested that, being civilians, the inhabitants of Gault will not necessarily be treated as Prisoners of War, but will be seen as… Citizens of the Dominion. Mr Boone, I am aware that your daughter is there, and it would be pointless of me to advise you not to react with anxiety-”

“What’s Starfleet going to do?” he snapped. “We’re here to protect Federation citizens, not let them become… ‘Citizens of the Dominion’!”

“Captain Hrelle is currently in communication with Admiral Tattok, and other... sources. We will do everything we can to ensure the safety of your daughter, and the other inhabitants of Gault. I must counsel patience.”

“We’ll pack up immediately and return, Commander,” Zir suggested.

“Negative, Ensign. There is no point in your returning. You are on Mandatory Rest Leave following your duties on the Surefoot, and you can do no more here than you can there.”

Peter leaned forward, his face taut and red and his voice rising the more he spoke. “God damn it, I’ve seen first-hand what those Jem’Hadar can do! I’ve felt it! I’m not gonna sit around a pool drinking cocktails while my little girl’s in danger! Don’t you understand?”

Zir reached out, took his hand, but looked back at the viewscreen. “Please excuse the outburst, Commander, he’s still in shock over the news.”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “I choose not to recall any outburst, Ensign Dassene. Mr Boone… Peter… having no children of my own, I can only imagine what you are experiencing now. I can only offer you our assurances that we will do everything possible to assist not only your daughter, but the rest of Gault.”

Zir nodded. “Thank you, Commander. Please keep us up to date.”

“We will.” The screen went black.

Zir turned to her friend, tightening her hold on him. “It’ll be okay, Pete. Abby’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

He wouldn’t look at her, the earlier anger now lost, leaving only a blank bleakness. “No. I don’t see, Zir. I should never have left for the Academy. What the Hell was I thinking?”

“You were thinking that you would work hard to provide a better life for yourself and Abby than what you had on Gault. And if you’ve stayed there, you’d be trapped there as well-”

“But at least I’d be with her!” he shouted, tears welling down his face. “I’d be with her- I’d- I’d-”

Zir drew him and held him, letting him get everything out. Like T’Varik, she could only imagine what he was experiencing now; certainly if her little brother Haikv, still back on Orion and unlikely ever to be reunited with her, was in a similar situation, she would be overcome with anguish over not being able to do anything for him.

When he had finally calmed down, she drew back, still holding onto his hands. “It’s going to be okay, I know it. Captain Hrelle will come up with something. I have faith in him. You have to, too.”

Peter’s head was low, but he reached under his T-shirt and drew out the gold chain with the hololocket, clutching it, slowing down his breathing.

Then he put it away, his voice more fragile now. “I’m sorry, Zir. Didn’t mean to lose it.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand supportively. “You’re entitled, under the circumstances. Come on, let’s get back to the others and tell them what’s happened.”

He shook his head. “You go. I need some time alone to pull myself together.”

She nodded, rising and departing, hurrying along deeper into the interior of the massive ship, needing to get back to their friends and enlighten them.

Twenty minutes later, the five of them were gathered in Zir’s and Peter’s cabin, most of them waking up quickly as she filled them in on the news.

“Invasion?” Urad noted. “Why have we not all been recalled? Surely the Thirteenth Fleet will be sent to liberate the sector?”

“Not necessarily,” Stalac opined. “If it’s not judged vital enough at this stage to risk us. We haven’t yet fully recovered and refitted.”

“That doesn’t matter now,” Astrid pointed out, sitting near a silent, hungover Tori. “If we’re recalled back, then that’s that. Until then, Peter needs us. He thinks about us all the time, worries about us. He’ll need distractions.”

Zir nodded with approval. “We’re in the right place to do it. The Claridon has a wide variety of activities over the coming days.”

“He will most certainly benefit from a morning feast in the Starjammer Cafe,” Urad suggested. “He is far too skinny to support himself.”

“I will be happy to teach him the intricacies of Rigelian Hold ’Em,” Stalac offered.

“Sounds rude,” Tori muttered, nudging Astrid, “Surprised you didn’t think of it.”

Zir looked to Tori, almost ready to resume admonishing her for her behaviour last night, having forgotten it in the distraction over the news about Gault. Settling for a general, “Astrid’s right: Peter does so much for us, let’s focus on him.” She reached up and touched her combadge, pinned to her blouse. “Peter? Are you on your way back? Meet us in the Starjammer for breakfast.”

No answer.

She tried several times, as confusion rose among the Squad members, Astrid suggesting, “Maybe he’s on his way back already?”

“I established a comlink with the shuttle in case any further transmissions came in from the Surefoot. He should have his badge with him, I should still…”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she moved to the desk communicator, accessing the Claridon’s Hangar Bay directory. “No… Please, Peter, please don’t-”

The others drew closer, Astrid leaning in, jaw dropping. “Our shuttle’s gone!”

“Reported launched five minutes ago,” Zir confirmed, clutching the edges of the desk, her heart triphammering. She smacked her combadge again. “Ensign Dassene to Shuttle Littlepaw! PETER!” Gods, Peter, please come back, please come back…

“He’s gone?” Stalac exclaimed, rumbling in disbelief. “When did he even learn to pilot?”

Zir was pacing now, her anxiety galvanising her limbs. “He told me he used to pilot flyers between the communes, or to go check on the remote automated farming stations.”

“And being Deputy Squad Leader,” Astrid added. “He would have the authorisation to take the Littlepaw out.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter how he learned to fly!” Zir exclaimed. “He’s gone off to get himself killed!”

“Hardly, Comrade Squad Leader,” Urad noted, between bites of his second breakfast. “He is on a crusade to save his child. It is worthy.”

“It’s fricking stupid!” Tori snapped, animated now. “Farmboy’s gonna get himself killed, heading out there on his own in a fricking shuttle with only one set of phasers and good intentions!”

“We need to contact the Surefoot, Zir,” Stalac advised gravely. “They can intercept him before he gets too far.”

Astrid looked to Zir again. “You can’t do that, they’ll court martial him for stealing a shuttle!”

“But at least he’ll be alive at the end of it!” Tori pointed out. “Better that than getting the shit blown out of him!”

“He’s in no immediate danger,” Astrid opined, “It’s a Type-7 shuttlecraft, Warp 4 maximum. Should take him about 8 days to even get there.”

“We’ll have to report back to the Surefoot long before then.” Stalac noted.

They all looked to Zir. Even Stalac, who had no eyes. There it is, she realised, the Burden of Command made flesh.

Gods, what should she do? She would have to ask the Claridon to contact the Surefoot, or maybe get one of the other teams onboard having shore leave to use their comm systems. But then she’d have to explain the situation to them, contact their superiors, and-

Superiors…

*

The Claridon’s Solarium, warm and quiet and lush with greenery around chairs, tables and deck chairs, was quiet that time of morning, but the bubbling of the unoccupied jacuzzis still muffled the sounds of Lieutenant Sasha Hrelle shuffling through, eyes barely open, clothes dishevelled as she scratched under her pits and wished her mouth didn’t taste like one of her dirty socks… and also wishing she didn’t have actual memories that verified that taste.

“Who was it?” asked a familiar voice.

Sasha ignored the question, but gravitated towards the table, where two figures sat watching her approach. She plopped down into an unoccupied chair, hunched over the table. “Coffee.”

Sitting opposite, Lieutenant Giles Arrington, the new Chief Helmsman of the Surefoot, stopped tucking into a fruit salad breakfast to glance at Chief Nurse Eydiir Daughter-of-Kaas, smirking. “You think it’s medically safe to give her coffee?”

Beside him, the tall, sturdy, coffee-skinned Capellan woman was busy savouring a tall, chilled glass of pineapple juice, never looking up as she replied, “We have insufficient information to offer a diagnosis.” Now she looked over at the new arrival. “Who was it?”

Sasha ground her teeth. “Coffee. That’s an order.”

“We are all Lieutenants here, and you are no longer our Second Officer. Who did you rut with? We await an answer.”

Now Sasha looked up, glaring beneath her tangled blonde hair. “Lieutenant Leslie Morgenstern, Engineering, USS Puget Sound.”

Eydiir and Giles looked to each other, before the former asked, “Male or female?”

Sasha frowned in thought. “Female.” She paused in thought, and added, nodding to herself, “Yes, female.”

“And how was she?” Giles asked, grinning now.

She winced with memory. “Toothy. Now give me my fricking coffee.”

Eydiir suppressed a smile of her own as she rose and walked over to the wall replicator. “I suppose Giles should not feel too cuckolded this morning, given you rutted with a woman this time.”

Giles laughed, forking some melon slices in his bowl. “Oh, I’m fine, Eydiir. I’m long over this walking laundry hamper.”

Sasha sneered at the both of them. “Where are the others?”

Eydiir returned. “Jonas and Neraxis should be joining us shortly from their cabin. Kit went to see that purser who promised him some Tellarite lacewing beetles they employ for natural pest control in the ship’s gardens. Apparently this particular species are potent intoxicants to insectivores like himself.”

Sasha grimaced at the notion… and then again as she tasted the coffee. “Not enough sugar.”

“I programmed four portions,” Eydiir informed her.

“Not enough!” Sasha screeched, holding out the cup.

No one accepted it, Giles looking to Eydiir and remarking, “She’s got Papa Cat’s sweet tooth.”

“She’s going to acquire his hips and rear end as well.”

“She’s halfway there in the aft department already.”

“Indeed. Did you hear the chair protest as she squeezed into it?”

Sasha brought the cup back to her mouth. “Oy vey, I can’t wait to get back to the Ajax and leave you annoying putzes behind.”

“Good Friends!”

The three of them turned to see the cheerful, lime-green reptoid in a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts approached, webbed hands carrying a clear container of writhing black objects, which he set down next to Sasha as he took a place opposite. “Is it not a beautiful artificial morning?”

He looked to Sasha now. “Best Friend Sasha, you appear almost as green as me.” He reached inside the container and grasped a wriggling beetle between the claws of his forefinger and thumb. “Perhaps you could benefit from one of these? They’re best if you crunch down on the carapace and let the juices and viscera run down your throat.”

Sasha felt queasy. “Kit, I thought you knew by now that we don’t share your-” She paused and glared at him. “You’re a nasty little bastard.”

Giles and Eydiir chuckled, and Kit himself wheezed with laughter before shooting his tongue out at the beetle and swallowing it. Sasha braced herself and took a swig from her coffee, washing it down as she washed down the past, the more pleasant memories of her evening partying onboard the Claridon, and getting to meet some other members of the Thirteenth Fleet… some better than others. 

It was refreshing. Certainly more refreshing than having nightmares about impaling Jem’Hadar with her Kaetini sword and crashing shuttles into other ships. She rubbed her eyes.

“Hey, Sash.”

She looked up at Giles, waiting for another dig.

Instead he asked, with genuine concern, “You okay?”

She smiled weakly now. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” She looked around at her other friends. “You think we’re gonna get to the stage where weird crap like space battles and interdimensional graverobbers and super spies is seen as a weekly occurrence?”

“I believe that for our profession,” Kit opined, “‘Weird crap’ is a relative term.”

“Speaking of which,” Giles ventured, adjusting the controls on the kettle to produce some chilled orange juice. “While we wait for Mr and Mrs Ostrow, how about another round of Kirk: Bullshit or Not?”

Sasha grunted, Eydiir shrugged, but Kit nodded and replied, “Yes, please, Best Friend Giles! It is most entertaining!”

Giles grinned and winked at him, before popping some grapes into his mouth and beginning. “Okay, Bullshit or Not: Captain Kirk once had to go looking for aliens who stole the brain of his first officer, Commander Spock, to use as a living computer on their planet. He found it, and had it returned intact.”

Sasha shook her head and attempted another swig of coffee. “I call Bullshit on that.”

“I must agree,” Eydiir countered. “A brain transplant? It is the height of absurdity.”

Kit looked between the two women, before concluding, “I cannot imagine. Perhaps I need some beetles to help stimulate my brain-”

“Morning!”

They looked in the direction of the Solarium entrance as two figures appeared: a tall, slim, pale-skinned Terran male with silver hair, and a shorter, stockier Bolian female, both of them in casual clothes, holding hands, the Terran grinning.

Giles smiled at them as they sat down. “I didn’t expect you two to show up at all. You were up pretty late, from the sound of things.”

Kit nodded, swallowing another beetle before elaborating, “Very true, Best Friend Giles. I must consider seeing if we can switch cabins to one not adjacent to theirs. We will get no sleep otherwise.”

Neraxis Ostrow reached out and playfully smacked the reptoid’s arm. “Hey, we’re a respectable married couple! We’re allowed!” She snickered in Sasha’s direction. “Unlike certain dirty strumpets out on Bumper Calls. Who’d you find to grind, girl?”

Sasha slumped down again. “Can’t remember.”

“It was a Lieutenant Leslie Morgenstern, Engineering, USS Puget Sound,” Eydiir offered helpfully. “The woman is apparently toothy. No doubt later in our cabin I will see all the toothmarks.”

Now Jonas frowned. “Leslie? You bedded Leslie? I know her! Thanks, Sash, now I’ll never be able to look at her the same way again!”

Neraxis looked to him with mock suspicion. “How well do you know her?”

He turned his frown on his wife. “We’ve exchanged retrofit manuals.”

“I hope that’s a euphemism,” Giles quipped.

“Lieutenant Hrelle!”

Sasha rose to her feet at the sound of the urgent voice, blinking as she saw several figures entering the Solarium, the one in the rear a huge grey golem she recognised, while a smaller disc-shaped figure slithered along in the rear. She knew them all, but focused on the Orion woman in the lead. “Ensign Dassene? What’s wrong?”

Zir skidded to a stop at the table of Old Alpha Squad members, catching her breath before replying, “Lieu-Lieutenant! I- We need your help!”

Sasha downed the rest of her coffee; in the days since her return to the Surefoot following the Battle of Khavak, she had worked with Zir, and was impressed by her… that her Dad had made the decision to give them all field promotions in recognition of their actions against the Dominion was an obvious factor. The others she had less contact with, but she had heard nothing but praise from the likes of Eydiir and Jonas and the rest of her own former squad. “Okay, Ensign, what is it?”

Beside her, Eydiir looked to the new arrivals. “Peter- Ensign Boone. Why is he not with you?”

Zir glanced at her hesitantly, and then back at Sasha. “Lieutenant, can we- can we-?”

Sasha handed her emptied cup to Giles and motioned to the younger girl. “Come on, I need to clear my head.”

The two women walked away.

The two Alpha Squads looked to each other.

Then Giles gestured to his left. “Better pull up a table and some chairs and maybe get yourselves some breakfast while we wait.”

*

“Jesus,” Sasha breathed out, sitting at the opposite end of the Solarium. “What was he thinking, taking off like that? Fricking idiot.”

Zir had been relieved to explain the situation to the other woman, confident that she would understand. Now she frowned, wondering if she made a mistake. “He’s not an idiot! He’s a father! Would your father have done the same if he heard you or your brother or sister were on a planet taken over by the enemy?”

Sasha gave her a look… but didn’t argue the point. “I’m guessing you want me to take my ship, collect him and bring him back, without reporting it to T’Varik or my Dad?”

“Yes! It’s not fair that he gets into trouble for this! If we can just get him back here, talk to him, convince him-”

“Convince him what, not to worry about his cub? Good luck with that.”

Zir watched as the human woman rose and paced again… but could see from her expression that she wasn’t acting conflicted… but calculating. It was something remarkably similar to what she had seen from Captain Hrelle during moments of crisis: there was no confusion, no ambivalence here; the Lieutenant had already made up her mind, one way or another, and it was now a matter of working out the details.

Then Sasha stopped and looked at her again. “What do you know about Gault?”

Zir’s brow creased with thought, feeling for a moment like a cadet again under the scrutiny of an instructor. “It’s remote but fertile in farmlands. There’s about ten to twenty thousand people there, spread out in small communes, operating and maintaining the automated farm machineries. No defences or outposts.”

Sasha still paced and nodded, more to herself than to her, before asking now, “Is there anyone else there he’s worried about? Family, I mean?”

Zir still frowned, wondering why she was asking all this. “Well, I suppose there’s Abby’s mother, but I never got the impression that she meant anything to Peter other than being a friend. He was planning on taking full custody of Abby when he was allowed to by Starfleet.”

Sasha stopped, nodding to herself. “Thank you.”

“For what, Ma’am?”

“For trusting me with this. And don’t call me Ma’am.” She beckoned to Zir. “Come on, I have to talk with my friends about what we’re gonna do about this.”

The human was pacing quickly back to the others, Zir catching up. “You are going to stop Peter, aren’t you?”

Sasha didn’t respond.

A minute later, she called her friends away to speak with them, leaving Zir with her own, Tori asking, “What the Hell’s going on, Zir? Are these old skidmarks gonna help us, or not?”

“Don’t talk like that, Tor. They’re not bad people.”

Stalac rumbled at her feet. “Agreed. I have had some interesting scientific discussions with Lt Kitirik, in his new capacity as Chief Science Officer. He has been most encouraging to me, and the others.”

Astrid’s gaze stayed fixed on Giles’ rear as he departed. “Well, our new Chief Helmsman hasn’t been encouraging enough for my tastes.”

Zir frowned reprovingly. “No! He’s your departmental head! You’re supposed to be working under him!”

“Stop feeding her straight lines,” Tori warned.

Urad sat, with a huge pile of newly-replicated food before him. “Well, I hope they will be honourable enough to assist us. I am most worried about Comrade Peter, I can barely eat.” He paused and looked up. “What?”

*

Eydiir crossed her arms after Sasha filled them in. “It must be done. Peter Boone is an honourable, hard-working man, who loves his daughter.” Eydiir frowned. “It will be risky, though.”

Neraxis shrugged, looking to Sasha. “But not impossible. Your ship’s cloaking device might get us through.”

Sasha raised a hand. “The Prowl unit is not a cloaking device. It’s just a piece of stealth technology that uses selective bending of light and other energy to render the ship invisible to the electromagnetic spectrum and to most sensors.”

“That’s literally the definition of a cloaking device,” Jonas quipped.

“Forgive me, Best Friend Sasha,” Kit interjected gently. “Are you suggesting that we defy orders to venture into occupied territory?”

“Orders? What orders, Kit? We haven’t received any orders not to go to Gault.”

“But if you contacted the Most Respected Captain-”

“Then he might say No. We’ll sneak in, find the cub, bring her back… and put together an Intelligence report on the Dominion forces we find there. It’s a Win-Win Scenario.”

“Unless they choose to throw the book at all of us,” Giles offered soberly.

The others exchanged glances.

“I’m rescuing this cub,” Sasha finally declared. “If my Dad, the whole of Starfleet, wants to rip me a new one, they’re all welcome to try.”

“You will need assistance,” Eydiir announced, more a statement than a question.

“No, I won’t. I can handle it. You guys stay here, enjoy yourselves. You come with me, you’ll get in trouble.”

“We will anyway, Best Friend Sasha,” Kit informed her. “Should you leave with your ship, and we are unexpectedly recalled to the Fleet, we will have no transportation. And if we’re questioned, and reveal we allowed you to leave and not inform them, we will still be in trouble.”

“So will the Squabs,” Neraxis indicated. “You can’t leave them here either, for the same reasons.”

Sasha grunted. “It’ll be tight with all eleven of us packed in. Especially with that big mountain Urad… and what about the Horta?”

“His name is Ensign Stalac, Best Friend Sasha,” Kit clarified. “And I believe the variable environmental facilities of the Auxiliary Storage Compartment in your esteemed vessel would allow it to be an ideal sleeping and resting berth for him.”

“And your ship has a much more powerful engine than the shuttle,” Giles reminded her. “We can get to Gault in, say, a day and a half. In and out again, and be back before anyone even asks about us.”

Sasha looked around her friends once more, both grateful and anxious. “This could be dangerous. I’m not going in looking for trouble, but… well, any of you want to stay behind anyway-”

“I want to be doing something,” Jonas declared, looking around. “I’m gonna be bored shitless here.”

Neraxis smirked, wrapping a beefy arm around her husband’s shoulder. “He’s just worried the non-stop sex while we’re here leaves him with a permanent limp. Well, you’ll need someone at your Weapons station in case things get tasty.”

“And Engineering,” Jonas added.

Giles grinned, looking at Sasha. “I’m looking forward to giving your ship a good workout.”

Eydiir crossed her arms. “I was ready to leave five minutes ago.”

Kit looked around his friends as well. “I will come, and bring my insects with me. I believe it will be necessary. After all...”

“Uh oh,” Giles muttered. “Brace yourselves.”

“After all,” Kit continued, regardless. “We’ll be entering a no-fly zone.”

The others moaned.

Sasha allowed herself a smile, knowing she was less likely to be smiling after her Dad finds out what she was doing.

*

The New Alpha Squad watched the Old Alpha Squad return, Tori crossing her arms as she muttered under her breath, “Look out, here come the Old Farts.”

Zir shot her a dirty look as she rose and approached Sasha, feeling challenging. “Lieutenant, as much as we appreciate your help, we’d like to know what you intend to do about Peter. No messing about, just talk to us straight. Okay?”

Sasha stopped in front of her, matching her posture. “Okay: your team and mine are heading out in my ship, we’re collecting Mr Boone, and then we’re proceeding to Gault to rescue his daughter, gather what intelligence we can on the enemy, and then head back.” She blinked. “Is that straight enough for you, Ensign?”

Zir blinked at the turn of events. “Yes, Ma’am!”

“Don’t call me Ma’am. Return to your cabins, gather your crap and meet us at the Hangar Bay, we’re leaving as soon as possible.” She turned to her own Squad. “Let’s pack up ourselves, I want to be on our way within the hour! And Kit, if any of those beetles escape to infest my ship, you’ll be on my menu!”

Everyone moved to action, and Zir turned back to her squadmates. Wow… Sasha Hrelle really was her father’s daughter…

*

Zir and the others were marching along the corridors with their gathered luggage, except for Stalac, who slithered up beside her as best he could. “Zir… there will be eleven of us onboard a little shuttle… thirteen when we collect Peter and his daughter… perhaps I should remain behind?”

“Nope.”

The Horta rumbled from more than his locomotive muscles working overtime to keep up with her. “Zir… it will be uncomfortable…”

“It might not be that bad,” she tried to assure him as they entered the Hangar Bay, though she wasn’t as sure of that herself. Even the largest Starfleet shuttlecraft will make things tight for over a dozen occupants-

Then she stopped and saw Lt Hrelle’s ship: not a Starfleet shuttle, as she had expected, but one of alien design, an aerodynamic, delta-shaped craft larger than any shuttle or runabout Zir had seen before, larger than any other vehicle here, and sporting a wicked-looking blood-red and silver colour scheme, more like some pleasure or racing craft than anything else.

Her friends stopped with her, Astrid moaning. “Oh my God, I am in love. No, lust. I need a change of panties.”

“Ensign!” Zir scolded.

“Ignore her, she’s kidding,” Tori suggested, gazing at the ship herself. “Like she ever wears any panties to begin with.”

“How does a Starfleet Lieutenant afford a private craft like that, Comrades?” Urad demanded, looking it over.

“It was a present I believe,” Stalac responded. “Lt Hrelle has influential familial connections.”

The Hroch harrumphed. “Such things should be earned. I do not like people of privilege.” Then he glanced at Astrid. “Present company excepted, Comrade.”

The young woman shrugged, her usual insouciance momentarily lapsed. “My days of privilege ended long ago.”

“Enough talk,” Zir ordered, marching ahead and trying not to act or react like some envious child. She had heard many rumours about the Captain’s Daughter ever since Zir arrived on the Surefoot, and had only expected half of them to be true. The human certainly proved to be a formidable standard to work towards.

The woman in question stood by an open side hatch, waving to them. “Come on, Squabs, we’re clear to go by the Claridon!”

“I hope they have sufficient foodstuffs onboard,” Urad grumbled. “Or I will eat one of them.”

Zir tightened her hold on her shoulder bag and glanced at her squad with annoyance. “They’re helping us with Peter and Abby. Behave. Remember who you are.”

“Yeah,” Tori mumbled, sticking her chin out. “The New and Improved Alpha Squad.”

Zir started to admonish her, but then stopped. It was going to be a long trek, no matter how fast this luxury yacht of hers might go.

The interior of the ship was economical in its use of space, with a central corridor running from a rear storage area and lounge, to flanking cabins, leading to a forward cockpit, with some impressive equipment, even a transporter pad, weapons locker and several replicators between.

The Old Alpha Squad was onboard, stowing gear or running checks from cockpit stations, as Sasha described, “The Tailless has got 9 bunks: 4 double berths and my single. We’ll come up with a rota so we’ll not get on people’s nerves.” She looked past Zir to the others, especially Urad and Stalac. “We’ll make some adjustments for your people along the way.”

“They’ll be fine, Lieutenant,” Zir assured her, a little more sharply than she might have preferred.

Sasha nodded. “Glad to hear it, Ensign. Stow your gear in the aft compartment, and under any of the lower bunks in the double berths.” She turned away.

*

In the depths of space, Sasha sat in the pilot’s seat of the Tailless, keying in some commands and nodding to herself. “Getting some updates… a few vessels had fled Gault as the Dominion entered and took over, they might be able to offer some-” She paused and smiled as she read through the data scrolls. “There: the Eeline, a Caitian Merchantfleet grain freighter exporting produce to the colonies on Azure Aura.” She keyed in another command. “Owned and operated by a Captain Huhanh.”

“You think a civilian ship will be able to offer any usable data?” Giles, sitting in the adjacent co-pilot’s chair, asked.

Sasha nodded. “Caitian Merchantfleet Regulations require vessels to maintain high-quality sensor packages, to record potential threats they might encounter-”

She stopped as the viewscreen before her came to life, displaying a much larger Bridge than her own, crewed by Caitians. One of them, a uniformed, high-ranking, middle-aged male with charcoal streaks in his snowy fur, dominated the screen as he regarded her. “May I assist you?”

Sasha nodded. “Captain Huhanh, I presume?”

“You presume correctly. Who are you?

“Lieutenant Sasha Hrelle. Thank you for taking my call, I’m sorry to bother you, but I understand you just left the Gault system?”

Huhanh grunted. “Barely. We had a Dominion task force nipping at our tails all the way. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m proceeding there, so I’m looking for some information on the forces that we’ll encounter.”

The Caitian’s furred brow creased. “You’d be a fool for wanting to go there, Lieutenant.”

Sasha smirked. “I’ve been called worse. But needs must, and the sensor data from your ship’s recorders would be greatly appreciated, to give us an idea of what we’ll be facing.”

“I’m sure it would be, Lieutenant, but it won’t be possible. Security restrictions prevent the release of data to anyone but recognised Caitian authorities. Even to Starfleet.”

“I understand, Captain… but if it helps, I am Caitian. And I have some relevant authority beyond my Starfleet credentials.”

Huhanh smirked. “You? Caitian?”

She nodded, having received similar reactions from other Caitians. “Believe it or not, I hold Caitian citizenship. My father is Captain Esek Hrelle of the Surefoot. My grandmother is Fleet Captain Ma’Sala Shall of the Planetary Navy. And... I am a Kaetini.”

His amusement turned to disdain. “What? YOU’RE claiming to be a Kaetini? That’s not funny, Lieutenant! I’ll be making a complaint to your superiors! You humans might be content to deploy such deceptions to gain what you want, but the Kaetini are a revered part of my culture!”

“Our culture, Captain. Contact the Mother’s Fury, on Priority Channel 875-020-709, and speak with the Fleet Captain yourself. She’ll vouch for me, and my claims.”

“Why should I waste my time with such a pointless exercise, Lieutenant?”

“Because it’s better for you to do so than not do so, and then later on face Fleet Captain Shall when she demands to know why you obstructed me.”

Huhanh stared at her across the light years, before nodding to someone off-screen, grumbling. “This is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. A tailless ape thinking herself Caitian, and a Kaetini. It’s disgusting…”

Sasha reached down beside her chair, lifting up her sheathed sword, displaying the decorated hilt, before grasping it and drawing it out of the scabbard enough to reveal some of the black arakanium blade, as she spoke again. “‘I am Kaetini: a Warrior of the Great Mother. I am Her Eyes, and I am Her Ears. I am Her Teeth, and I am Her Claws. I am Her Purr, and I am Her Roar. I will defend the Living, and I will avenge the Dead. And I will give my life to protect the Motherworld and Her people.’”

Huhanh reacted to her reciting the oath with naked astonishment, until someone on his side motioned to him. He fitted a receiver into his right ear, still staring at Sasha with suspicion as he spoke to whomever was on the other end of his earpiece. “Is this Fleet Captain Shall? This is Captain Huhanh of the freighter Eeline. I am currently communicating with a human female Starfleet officer, a Lieutenant Sasha Hrelle, who is requesting our ship’s sensor data about the system we just departed.” He smirked again. “She claims to be Kaetini. And your granddaughter.”

The smirk dropped as he heard a reply through his receiver.

Then he somehow straightened up in place some more. “Yes, Ma’am. No, Ma’am! No, no disrespect was intended to your granddaughter, I can assure-” His anxious expression turned to someone to his left. “Msheer! Send the data the Lieutenant requested! NOW!” He focused on Sasha again. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Lieutenant?”

Sasha suppressed a smile as she returned her sword to her side, looking at Giles to confirm from his station that the requested data was received. “Thank you, but no. Please pass on my regards to my grandmother, and my wish to see her again soon on the Motherworld.”

“Of course, I-” He paused, as he obviously listened to Ma’Sala through his earpiece. “Your grandmother- I mean, Fleet Captain Shall is enquiring as to what you’re up to? That is, if you’re permitted to say?”

Sasha smiled at the clearly-cowed Caitian. “Me? I’m just rescuing a cub. Thanks again, Captain, Lieutenant Hrelle out.” She ended the transmission, keying in another set of commands. “And just in time for our approach to Mr Boone and the Littlepaw.”

Giles checked his own station, confirming, “Transporter range in two minutes. Shall I hail him?”

“No. Access that auxiliary panel next to Astrogation, it’ll find the prefix code for the shuttle and override the controls.”

He familiarised himself with the panel controls. “You know, you could always send the rest of the new Alpha Squad over to the Littlepaw and send them back to the Claridon. We don’t need them all, just Mr Boone.”

She seemed to consider it, before shaking her head. “If I did, then they’d be obliged to report our actions, or risk a reprimand. Now, it’s all on my shoulders. Bring him to a full stop, and park the shuttle where it stops until we return.”

“If we return. If we’re not blown to pieces at Gault. If your father doesn’t make a meal of all of us after all this.”

She smirked to herself. “Show some positivity, Stud. You’re never gonna get laid again with that attitude.”

Giles looked to her, eyes wide. “I hope you’re not suggesting that we-”

“No. Especially not after you called me a ‘walking laundry hamper’.”

He grinned at her. “If it helps, when I said that, I was only referring to your morning breath.”

“Oh, I’m definitely gonna spread for you now.” She rose from her seat, patting him on the shoulder as she stepped out, pleased with the casual aspect of her relationship now with her former lover… and pleased once more with her ship as she moved into its midsection, where the single-pad transporter sat. She activated the controls and called out, “Ensign Dassene, come here, please.”

The Orion rushed up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing; I’m about to beam over your Mr Boone. I’m just not giving him any warning about it, so I want you here to greet him.”

“No warning? Why not?”

“Because I’m not in the mood for wasting time arguing over subspace or for any pointless posturing. Besides, he’s your crewmember, not mine.” She completed the sequence. “Here we go…”

The pad flared to life, a shimmering silver column of energy filled the space, and seconds later, a shocked-looking Peter Boone appeared, glancing around. “What the-”

Sasha stepped back. “Welcome aboard the Tailless, Ensign.”

Zir stepped forward now, grabbing a fistful of his jacket and dragging him off the pad. “COME WITH ME, MISTER!”

Sasha watched the younger officers depart with amusement… and nostalgia, about the times she had to drag Rrori away following one of his antics, to give him an earful… or more frequently, to just give him a smack on the snout. A wave of sadness overcome her at the thought of his loss. Oh, Meow, flying this ship would have made you even more priapic than you usually were.

Then she returned to the cockpit, to finally test just how fast her ship can really go.

*

Zir set the tray down in front of the young man. “Eat.”

Peter sat on the bunk, unmoving.

“I said Eat. Consider it an order.”

He grunted. “I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t talk crap. Now eat, or I’ll get Urad in here to hold you down while I force feed you.”

Now he looked up. “You’re joking.”

The Orion woman slammed her hand down on the table beside the bunk, making the cutlery rattle and her friend start. “Do you think I’m in the mood for joking, Peter? You took our shuttle, raced out here on your own, left us worried sick about you! Even if you’d made it in the Littlepaw before the Surefoot caught up with you – which wouldn’t have happened, by the way - what were you going to do when the Dominion detected you? They’d have blown you away without a second thought! And then what would have happened to Abby?”

The mention of his daughter’s name took the proverbial wind out of his sails, and he stepped back. “I... I’m sorry, Zir. I’m sorry... I- I had to do something-”

“I know, Peter. I know you acted on instinct. But you also know we can’t just do that in every situation. It works fine when your hand is in a fire. Not so much for more complicated matters.” She nodded to the food. “Everyone’s missing you, hiding in here like you’re doing now. So eat. Then go have a shower; you need it.”

He flushed a little. “Am I that bad?”

“Not usually. But it’s kind of cramped in here. And Urad can’t fit into the sonic shower onboard.”

*

In Counselor Kami Hrelle’s Office onboard the Surefoot, Lt Sextilis Magna Bellator sat undergoing her initial session with the sepia-furred Caitian, alongside the Counselor’s infant daughter Sreen, a small, honey-furred beauty wearing some sort of cybernetic enhancement framework on her limbs, while she chewed on a pacifier stuck in her muzzle… and stared back at the human with naked scrutiny.

Bellator had been prepared to offer the Captain’s wife the expected answers to the expected questions: Yes, I’m pleased to be there. Yes, I have been using the techniques the other Counselors have taught me to deal with my trauma. No, I have no lingering issues with my court martial and demotion… and the treatment I’ve received from my so-called ‘comrades’ in Starfleet.

But the Counselor was not asking the expected questions. Kami chatted pleasantly about life on the Surefoot, about her ‘cubs’, about being a grandmother soon, about Bellator’s homeworld colony of Nova Roma, about Bellator’s predecessors, and a dozen other varied, irrelevant subjects.

And all along, the cub beside her stared at Bellator, occasionally watching her mother and imitating her paw gestures with her own stubby, furry fingers.

“‘Magna’,” Kami said suddenly, capturing the Lieutenant’s attention once more. “As I understand the naming conventions in your culture, the middle name is a more informal, personal choice. Do you mind if I use it?”

They stared back, feeling their olive skin flush and heat a little. “Hmm? Oh, of course. Whatever you want, Counselor.”

“Would you like to hold Sreen?”

“Hold?” Bellator’s purple eyes widened. “No, no, I wouldn’t! I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with your baby, Counselor, she seems lovely and all, I mean, I don’t like babies myself- I-” They stopped and pursed their thin dark lips. “Nova Romans favour economy of word and expression. I… have always tended towards the contrary.”

Kami smiled. “Nothing wrong with standing out.”

“I think I’ve stood out more than enough in my short but notorious career, Counselor.”

“And how do you enjoy yourself, Magna?”

They blinked. “Enjoy?”

Kami nodded sagely – Sreen doing the same. “Yes. What do you like to eat? To listen to? To do for fun?”

“Fun? Nothing.” Bellator shook their head. “I’m out here to work, Counselor, not have fun.”

Kami looked to Sreen, asking, “What do you think about that, Daughter of Mine?”

In her chair, Sreen spat out her pacifier and shook a stubby finger at the Lieutenant, babbling, “Betta baba boo co da!”

Kami nodded at the response, retrieving and refitting the pacifier into the infant’s muzzle, noting, “Yes, I quite agree.” She focused on Bellator again. “Sreen doesn’t believe you.”

They looked in confusion between mother and daughter. “Excuse me?”

She indicated the infant, completely serious. “Sreen’s training under me. And in her professional assessment, she believes you’re not being truthful.”

Bellator glanced down at Sreen once more – It wasn’t possible for any sentient being this young to actually be so cognisant! Yet... why did she look so knowing? – before responding. “Counselor, the Nova Roman work ethic of duty over frivolity is paramount-”

Kami raised a paw – quickly followed by Sreen – as she cut in. “This isn’t about societal work ethics, it’s about guilt. I have no doubt you have restrained yourself since the court martial, refusing to let yourself feel any pleasure or enjoyment.

I’m here to tell you that that’s not healthy, not with the heavy responsibilities you’ll be taking on here.” She held out both her paws now, as if to encompass Bellator. “You have to forgive yourself for your past actions, and not let them affect the rest of your life.”

Sreen spat out her pacifier again and held out her own little paws, singing in a meaningful tone, “Gobbadoo... Gobbadee!”

Kami replaced the pacifier again, stroking under the infant’s muzzle and making the latter purr. “I couldn’t have put it better myself, Counselor Cutie.”

Bellator felt bowled over, having come in to get the mandatory visit over with as quickly as possible before moving onto getting lost in work… and ending up not only utterly charmed by the woman and her cub... but impressed by her perception and persistence.

They ran a hand through the close-cropped buzzcut of violet hair on their scalp. “Counselor… I have no business enjoying myself any more. Because of me, people were seriously wounded. Some may never fully recover.”

Kami fixed her gaze on the younger officer. “Yes. But you were tried and convicted for your actions. You have served your time. And now it’s time to move on, and to stop punishing yourself, if for no other reason than you can’t give this role your best if you don’t do something to relax and unwind. Don’t you agree, Daughter of Mine?”

She glanced down… to find Sreen had nodded off, eyes shut, pacifier half-hanging out and covered in drool.

“I’m not splitting my fees with you.” Kami looked up again, and her expression and tone changed, sobered. “Magna… you will never be the officer, the person you were before the incident that led to your court martial; that’s not possible. But you can be something close to what you were. Your talent, your dedication, your decency, is all still there.

You’re in a safe place here. And you’re under the protection of Captain Hrelle, Commander T’Varik… and myself. Understood?”

Bellator smiled. “Yes, Counselor.”

Kami smiled back at the Second Officer. “Someday, I’m gonna see a genuine smile from you. It’ll be a hundred times better.”

Sreen began snoring.

*

In the Tailless cockpit, Astrid once again thanked the Fates for the opportunity to have something vital to do up here, instead of hanging around in the rest of this marvellous ship, where the tension had been rising since they left the Claridon almost a day before.

At least there was an additional distraction from the delicious Giles Arrington, who seemingly was just as reluctant to get involved in the petty bickering that was rising among the others. “So, the Caitian warp designers seem to prefer greater short-term high warp velocities, even at the expense of a shorter warp core lifespan than Starfleet vessels?”

Giles nodded, keeping his eyes on the controls and displays. “Yes. There was a Caitian Flight Ops cadet on Alpha Squad after I moved to command another squad, and we used to talk a lot on the subject. He said Caitian mentality leans towards the short-term sprint and pounce, over more lengthy marathons, and that mentality lends itself to ship design, weapons design-”

She grinned. “I can appreciate that. When I want something, I go for it. How about you, Giles? Do you like to... sprint and pounce?”

Giles frowned slightly, and then said, “On approach to the Gault system; refocus the sensor algorithms to Passive.”

She let her fingers move over her controls. “Passive sensor algorithms engaged.” Then she faced him again, smiling once more. “I can’t help but notice that you haven’t answered my question, Giles-”

Now he faced her, his expression almost stern. “It’s ‘Lieutenant’, Ensign. I’m your superior officer; your familiarity is inappropriate.”

Astrid swallowed, feeling her face heat up. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I was only having some fun.”

He softened his mien, a little. “I understand. But I’m also the ship’s Chief Flight Officer, and your immediate supervisor.” He breathed out. “After Khavak, I felt lost. I’d worked in Starfleet Logistics, Intelligence... but only back on the Surefoot have I felt like I belong. I’m not betraying the faith that Captain Hrelle and Commander T’Varik have put in me, by acting in anything other than a totally professional way. Is that understood, Ensign?”

Astrid nodded at that. “I’m sorry, Sir, I’m really sorry.”

“Forget it.” After a moment, “Astrid... you know, you’re very talented, intelligent, capable... and if it wasn’t inappropriate to say, you’re very attractive as well. You don’t need cheap innuendos.”

He turned to face forward.

She did the same, muttering, “Cheap? I paid good money for those innuendos.”

He chuckled.

She joined him... suddenly feeling relieved at no longer feeling the need to keep up an impression. Or a mask.

*

Sasha lay in her bunk, aware now of how much she could hear outside her door: too much.

In the day since collecting Mr Boone and increasing their speed to Gault, after she had spent her time perusing the data from the Caitians on the Dominion force awaiting them: a main ship of obvious Dominion design, but smaller than the battleships she had encountered before, and lacking many of the expected armaments, with support by a half-dozen Jem’Hadar Scarab ships.

They could easily chase off the retreating grain freighters, and knock out the system’s subspace communications beacons, but otherwise it hardly seemed enough to hold a planet, even one as sparsely populated and armed as Gault. Or to hold off against the inevitable counter-offensive from Starfleet. At any rate, the Prowl unit on her ship would get her past them to find and retrieve Boone’s cub.

In the meantime, she had learned to differentiate the voices of each of the many passengers onboard… or in the case of Urad Kaldron and Stalac, by the effort they took to just move through some of the narrower passages between the sections of her ship.

And each time she heard someone went by, she waited for them to stop and knock again-

Someone knocked.

Now she indulged in who it might be this time: Giles or Astrid, informing her of a recall message from her Dad or the Fleet; Zir, complaining about the alleged superior attitudes of Sasha’s former Squad against Zir’s current one; Neraxis, complaining about exactly the same thing in the opposite direction; and finally Eydiir, to lecture her again about something. At least Kit and Stalac kept themselves amused by remaining in the aft compartment, playing games or talking scientific crap-

The knock repeated, its strength and curtness telling Sasha who it was; the fact that the Capellan opened the door herself and entered confirmed it. The woman took the seat at the desk, as Sasha closed the door. “Wow, there was a time when you wouldn’t have even knocked. Old age must be softening you.”

Eydiir looked up at her. “You need to consider the examples you’re setting to others.”

Sasha crossed her arms. “Oh? I’m setting examples, am I? I never knew.”

“Don’t be obtuse; like that hideous off-duty leather jacket you prefer, it ill-suits you.”

Sasha frowned; she liked that jacket... “You’re disagreeing now with my decision to go collect the cub? Because back on the Claridon you were all gung-ho about it!”

“Not with that decision, but with the subsequent ones. You have chosen to defy protocol to engage in this unauthorised activity without informing your superiors.”

“Command prerogative.”

“You have chosen to spend your time in here, keeping your own counsel and ignoring the tensions among our two groups.”

“We’re all professionals, it’s not like it’s a screaming match out there.”

“You have chosen to allow the younger, more impressionable members of the Surefoot crew to accompany us, putting them at unnecessary risk.”

“They’ve been blooded. They’ve fought, killed, been wounded. As a Capellan, you should appreciate that.”

“As a nurse, I appreciate more the psychological issues you deal with: your post-traumatic stress, your risk addiction, your desire to emulate your father while also trying to be your own woman-”

“Really, Doctor Kibitzer?” Sasha mocked, leaning against her door. “Such brilliant skills you demonstrate, without even a formal examination-”

“I’ve read Kami’s files on you. I know what’s been addressed.”

Sasha glared at her, before motioning to the sunken wardrobe. “Why don’t you go through my underwear drawer while you’re here?”

“There is no need; I have seen your underwear plenty of times, and I have never been impressed.”

Sasha stepped forward, dropping her arms. “Why are you busting my balls like this? What’s the point?”

Eydiir rose to her feet again. “Because you’ve taken command, but you chose to try and remain detached from it. Some Captains might choose that path, but it doesn’t generate esprit de corps. Your father knows this, and that is why he is always in the forefront, among the crew during crises-”

“I’m not my father!” Sasha snapped.

“No,” Eydiir conceded, softening her tone and posture. “And nor should you be. You will have to make your own path.  But you can still learn from him. Everyone onboard is your responsibility. You can’t just sit in here all the time brooding and drinking Spican flame whiskey.”

“I’m not doing that!”

Eydiir nodded to the shelf with the bottles. “May I then assume that the decreasing levels in the bottle since I last visited are from evaporation?” Then she softened her approach. “Sasha… Sister... I will stand by you and face Death in whatever form it appears. But I will not be a palliative. You need to step out of here, be a part of this crew you have assembled. To be the commander I know you can be.”

Sasha stared back… but before she could respond, they heard an argument from outside, and emerged to the rear compartment, an area was dominated by a collapsible dining/games table, surrounded by cushioned seats at three sides. The young Engineering cadet, Tori Emoto, was in Neraxis’ face. “Mind your own fricking business!”

The Bolian’s blue face was darkening with barely-contained anger. “He’s my damn husband! You talk crap about him, you answer to me!”

Nearby, Urad Kaldron literally filled the doorway into the Aft Compartment, clearly conflicted between his squadmate and the woman who had been his superior officer while on the Surefoot. “Please, Comrade Ladies, there is no need-”

Behind Sasha, Zir and Jonas appeared, each one appearing over her shoulders like some little angels and devils to try and tempt her towards one path or another, each one butting in. “Ner-Ner, what’s up?” “Lieutenant, what are you doing with my squadmate?”

Sasha raised a hand to either side of her to cut them off, before saying calmly, “Withdraw, Neraxis, and tell me what’s caused all this.”

Neraxis took a step backwards, still glaring at Tori as she explained, “This little Gearhead is spouting her mouth off about Jonas! Just because he wants to help her!”

“I don’t need his fricking help!” Tori snapped. “Not from him or the rest of these old bastards!”

“Tori, calm down!” Zir ordered.

Next to her, Jonas was trying to move around Sasha, keeping his tone measured, “Ensign Emoto, if I overstepped with my offer, I apologise.”

Now Neraxis turned to her husband. “You don’t have to apologise to any of these ungrateful Squabs, Scrappy!”

Urad stepped out of the doorway and literally into the argument, grumbling, “We are not Squabs, Comrade Lieutenant. You would be wise to remember that.”

Neraxis drew up to him, unintimidated. “You’ll be whatever the Hell I say you are, Squab!”

“ALL OF YOU SHUT UP!” Sasha shouted, looking around at them and breathing out. “This argument ends now! No more offers, no more insults, no more threats, no more apologies, no more nothing!” She focused on Tori. “And you! Watch the mouth when you’re speaking either to or about superior officers! Is that clear?”

Tori blanched, glancing at Zir before nodding and replying curtly, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Sasha grunted, noting how everyone else onboard had gathered behind her to witness the end of the argument, accentuating her ship’s overcrowded status. “Anyone on Sleep Shift, return to it, now! We arrive in the Gault system in a few hours! I want everyone on alert for that point!”

Sasha turned, ignoring the look on Eydiir’s face, imagining how her Dad felt whenever Kami proved to be right. Again.

*

In the rear of the ship, Kit sat cross-legged at the edge of the open compartment where Stalac sat, their conversation momentarily set aside as they listened to the argument beyond, the Horta asking quietly, “Should we intervene?”

The reptoid set aside his PADD. “I doubt if our inclusion would assist in relieving the tension, Good Friend Stalac. Better if we stay separate. Would you care for some more topaline marbles?”

“I shouldn’t have more, I’m putting on the kilos just sitting in here.” After a pause, he added, “Still, since they’re already replicated...”

Kit wheezed with mild laughter and reached into the bowl to his left, gathering a few black marbles in his webbed hand and dropping them into the compartment with a series of loud clacks, following by a rumble and sizzle as the Horta moved over the minerals and carefully dissolved them into his system without damaging the surrounding compartment.

Meanwhile Kit opened the container of beetles and shot his tongue into the remaining mass, snagging one and swallowing it... and then indulging in another. And another.

“Lieutenant Kitirik,” Stal continued, after finishing digesting his snack, “May I ask a question of you?”

Kit reluctantly refastened the lid before indulging in a fourth beetle, before replying, “As your supervisor, colleague, friend and kindred intellect, I can confirm that you may always ask a question of me.”

“Thank you. I have been away from my people for almost five years now, among beings radically different from me. I believe I have been most successful in understanding their ways; indeed, it was been very illuminating, as fascinating as studying subspace phenomena or fractal mathematics.

But... it can sometimes be overwhelming, being singular. I understand that you might be in a similar situation?”

Kit made a sound. “Indeed, Good Friend Stalac. My people’s planet is non-aligned, the numbers of us off-world very small... and I am currently a political exile, and the only one of my kind in Starfleet.”

The Horta rumbled. “Then you are in a more dire situation than I; at least I can visit my homeworld. I am sorry if my question causes you emotional distress.”

The reptoid reached down and patted Stalac’s lumpy carapace. “No distress has been inflicted upon me, I can assure you. And yes, at times I have felt isolated. As supportive and welcoming as my friends are, and as much as I can appreciate the similarities we share, I can still feel alienated at times.

And I daresay any alienation you feel, as a non-bipedal silicon-based lifeform, is far more acute than mine. After all, how many of us can properly understand the joys of tunnelling, or the sublime taste of lanthanides and actinides?”

Kit paused and sighed. “There is no cure for what we experience, except to remind ourselves that as close as our friends are, they will never properly appreciate the joys of tunnelling using one’s own acid secretions, or in my case the sublime taste of live crickets... just as you will never properly appreciate the grasp of a hand, or the experience of shaving.

Even among the humans, who often seem exceedingly similar there is uniqueness. Embrace our uniqueness.”

Stalac rumbled. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Please, Respected Colleague, off-duty you may refer to me as Kit.” He picked up his PADD. “Now, I believe you mentioned earlier that you were having some difficulty grasping the multidimensional dynamics of rotating black holes. I will be happy to go through the data with you. I once had the rare opportunity of taking a black hole out for a meal at a restaurant. It did not cost very much; the black hole ate light.”

He wheezed with laughter. Stalac rumbled and tapped his cilia against the  bulkhead with amusement.

*

Sasha moved to the cockpit… to see Giles sitting the pilot’s seat, with Astrid leaning in far too closely for Sasha’s liking, looking like a cat toying with prey. “You have a problem with the co-pilot’s seat, Ensign?”

Astrid straightened up, looking startled. “Lt Hrelle! No, Ma’am, Lt Arrington was just showing me a trick to tighten our subspace field to decrease the risk of detection.”

“Oh, really?”

Now Giles turned in his seat, looking concerned and a little annoyed. “Yes, Sash, really.” He indicated his station, and the displays illustrating the subspace fields surrounding the Tailless. “What’s happening back there?”

“Uh, ignore it. And ignore me.” Feeling herself blush, she glanced behind her, seeing Zir and Eydiir standing close, the Orion looking ready to burst with saying something, instead offering a taut, “May we talk privately, Lieutenant?”

Sasha gestured to her cabin. The younger woman entered… closely followed by Eydiir, without asking permission. Sasha led the rear, her cabin now feeling even more claustrophobic than usual. “How may I help you, Ensign?”

Zir stuck out her chin. “Permission to speak freely, Ma’am?”

Sasha paused – suddenly propelled back years ago, to her own first week at the Academy, when Dad had been missing, presumed dead, and the Starfleet Intelligence offices believed he had been a traitor, and one of them – Giles’ uncle, in fact – had come to the Academy grounds, called her down in front of her classmates, denounced her and her father and threatened her if she chose to remain… and then, he gave her permission to speak. And she took it – oh boy, did she take it – and ran away with it at Warp Nine, making a notorious name for herself at the Academy.

Strange, to find herself on the receiving end now. “Don’t call me Ma’am. But... go ahead.”

Zir crossed her arms, noting Eydiir’s continued, silent presence, but otherwise not letting that impede her from speaking her mind. “I don’t appreciate you singling Ensign Emoto out there for a verbal dressing down. Clearly your friends were also to blame: Jonas Ostrow for interfering where he shouldn’t have, and Neraxis Ostrow for exacerbating the situation!”

Sasha stared back, seeing so much of herself, defending her own Squad against anyone who might attack them. She almost pointed out the similarities… except that Sasha knew how she’d react if some old pisher made such a statement. “Do you know the nature of his ‘interfering’?”

“Yes! He keeps trying to get her to talk over what happened to her with the Cardassians. Why? He’s not her supervisor anymore, I’ve heard he and his wife have been assigned to the Samaritan now! Why should he care about her?”

Sasha’s face tightened. “Because he does. Because…” She stopped, looked to Eydiir, who nodded in assent, before continuing. “Because a few years ago, he had faced his own emotional crisis.”

“Crisis? What crisis?”

“That’s none of your business, Ensign,” Eydiir informed her.

The Orion paled, her olive skin lightening slightly as she looked between the other two women, obviously still galvanised with indignation. “But what about his wife? She had no business threatening Tori, or baiting Urad!”

“Sounded to me like she was standing up for her husband… and Mr Kaldron doesn’t seem to need much baiting; not a great quality in a Security officer.

And regardless of what Ms Emoto’s experienced, if she can’t manage that attitude among others, then maybe she needs more help than she’s been willing to accept to date.” She matched Zir’s posture. “All of us in here, and out there, have our wounds, and we know best how we deal with them… or not deal with them.

And more often than not, we don’t want to accept help for dealing with them, no matter how necessary, because the healing process can be just as painful as the original hurt.” She rubbed her eyes. “But I also know help can’t be forced on others. I’ll speak with Jonas and Neraxis. Please accept my apologies for any distress caused to your colleague. In fact, also accept them for dragging all of you out here. I could have just come alone, and left you on the Claridon.”

That made Zir start. “Begging your pardon, Ma’am, but No, you couldn’t have left us behind. Peter’s part of Alpha Squad.” She paused and clarified, “My Alpha Squad.”

Sasha allowed herself a tired smile. “I said stop calling... never mind. I’m gonna catch some shuteye, but in three hours, I’ll hold a meeting for all of us, and let you know what I have planned to retrieve Mr Boone’s cub, okay?” Sasha offered her hand.

Zir accepted it. “Yes, Lieutenant. Thank you.” She departed.

Alone with Eydiir now, Sasha turned to her. “Well? Was that a better example to set for the Next Generation?”

“Marginally.”

Sasha threw up her hands, twisted her hips and grasped her left buttock. “You know what? You can just get down there and kiss the fattest part of my ass!”

“Thank you, but with the size of your posterior, I would be down there all day.” Eydiir offered a slight glimmer of amusement behind the stoicism as she left as well.

When she was alone again, Sasha reached for the whiskey… then put it back again. Sleep was better. Yes, definitely.

*

She got little actual sleep, before an alert came, bringing her forward to the cockpit, finding Astrid alone. “Where’s Lt Arrington?”

The other woman never looked away from her controls, as the Tailless continued to surf warp space at insane velocities. “He went for a break, Ma’am.”

Sasha checked the readouts. “We’re still an hour away from triggering the expected Dominion sensors, why did you call me?”

Astrid pointed to a panel. “We’re approaching the Gault system’s perimeter network, which will alert them to incoming ships. If the Dominion have seized control of the system-”

“Then they may have also seized control of the network.” Sasha took the co-pilot’s seat and activated the Prowl. “Good thinking, Ensign.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. My fa- the Michel Shipping Company have had incidents with pirates that have raided freighters by co-opting system networks like this.”

Sasha nodded, wondering why she hadn’t thought of it, as she recalled the details on the pilot beside her. “Your father is Charles Michel, isn’t he? The owner of Michel Shipping?”

There was a pause, making Sasha look across to see the emotion on the other woman’s face, before responding. “Actually, no, Ma’am. I thought he was, and he thought he was, until I was thirteen, and we both learned then that my mother had altered my genetic signature when I was a baby, to trick him, to get money off him. He disowned me… but at least he let me keep the surname.”

Sasha continued to stare, surprised and aghast, that any parent would use their cub like that… or that any other parent would summarily reject the cub they had raised as their own for something the other parent had done. “I’m sorry, Ensign, those details weren’t in the records I’d read of you.”

Astrid continued not to look back, focused on her tasks at hand. “Mr Michel has kept the details of the deception out of the public record… and I’ve made sure it wasn’t common knowledge onboard the Surefoot. At least, until the Battle of Khavak. Now... my reasons for hiding seem petty.” She stopped as additional red lights appeared around them. “Is this what it’s like to pilot a cloaked ship?”

Sasha smiled, running long range scans on the planet ahead of them, finding the positions of the Dominion ships. “Cloaked ships are officially banned from use by Starfleet personnel, Ensign. I’m surprised that… that you…”

She stared at the readings, confused.

She focused on Gault: small, Class-M, a ring of several small moons providing acceptable tidal variances-

She rechecked the temperatures and atmospheric readings of the planet, her heart racing. “Get Kit up here. Now.”

Seven Hells...

*

Abby Boone wailed in terror and confusion as the people in the commune, the grown-ups and the children, rushed about, shouting over each other, questions and orders and curses and cries.

While on the horizon, an impossibly high wall of orange and red and white flames burned the sky, a storm that had turned night into day and turned her world into a nightmare and left a horrid smell in the cool night air. It was like when lightning struck some of the fields and set them on fire... but a thousand times worse.

She had woken to it, along with the other children in the commune, and waited for the grown-ups to come and make things all better. But they didn’t; they were scared too. That made the children’s fears all the greater.

Claire, the woman who had birthed her, had come to get her dressed and take her outside into the night, where the rest of the commune had gathered, to see the fire and work out what they were supposed to do. Abby held the woman’s hand tightly, tugging at it for attention. “We have to call Daddy!”

Claire ignored her, rushing up to her boyfriend Gregori. “Greg! What’s happened? Have the fire suppressor systems failed?”

The large, broad-shouldered young man turned to her, looking as afraid as everyone else. “It’s the Dominion! They’re attacking us!”

Claire’s grip on Abby’s hand tightened until the six-year-old squealed. “What? Are you kidding? Why us? We’re in the Asshole of Nowhere!”

“Language,” Abby scolded, unheard.

“We’ve lost contact with the stations on the other side of the planet,” Gregori continued, looking back at the wall of fire on the eastern horizon... a wall that seemed to be getting closer, like a wave. “All the communes are evacuating west, to the Central Spaceport!”

“The Spaceport? That’s over 1,800 kilometres away!”

He waved a beefy arm towards the fire. “That thing’s moving in fast! Come on, there’s a flyer coming in for the children and their parents!”

“What? What about the rest of you?”

He didn’t answer that.

As one they moved to the fields, Abby almost falling before Claire picked her up and carried her along, allowing the child to protest, “No! We can’t go! Daddy won’t know where we’re going!”

Claire ignored her. Abby tried to twist around to tell Gregori or one of the other adults. Her Daddy was in Starfleet, they helped people, so he’d be coming for her, to help them and the rest of them! They just had to call him!

At the edge of the field, everyone looked up to see the box-shaped flyer descend, its landing arc erratic from the chaotic winds being generated by the fire in the distance. The commune leaders were shouting over the other cries and the winds. “CHILDREN AND THEIR PARENTS ONLY! OTHER FLYERS ARE ON THEIR WAY FOR THE REST OF US! JUST STAY BACK UNTIL IT LANDS!”

Abby looked up, watching the vehicle come in for a landing, as a thought entered her mind. “Daddy! He’s flying that! He’s coming for us!”

Claire’s hold on her tightened as she pushed her way through the crowds to ensure a place for herself and the child on the flyer. “No, he’s not.”

Abby pouted. She knew Claire was her mother, but she also knew that Claire was minding her until Daddy was ready to come collect her and take her into space to have adventures and she would be a Fierce Space Princess!

The side hatch to the flyer opened, and grown-ups with children poured into it, as Abby looked back over Claire’s shoulder at their home, and the fire beyond it. “Daddy’s coming for me.”

“Your Daddy’s a thousand light years away,” Claire informed her archly, strapping them into adjoining seats. “Having fun with some beefcake.”

Abby listened... but still didn’t believe.

She knew her Daddy was coming...

The Burning World Part 2