Chapter 5: The Thousand Scars

S’Rrel Steppes, Ravath Province, Planet Cait:

A cold, bitter wind swept over the rolling grasslands, unable to extinguish the sporadic flames ignited by the disruptor and plasma fire of moments ago. The weapons fire still continued, further out towards the line of sablewood trees in the distance, but less now than before. The battle had been won.

The Caitians who weren’t dead had been herded together in a clearing near the Ferasan assault ship, its searchbeams illuminating the clearing with blinding beams that made the Caitians avert their eyes and potentially attempt further resistance, or escape. They stayed silent, defeated now.

An outcome that left a sour taste in the mouth of the Pridemaster of these particular Ferasans who had defeated them. He had perused the pile of bodies stacked at the edge of the clearing: males, females, cubs. Civilians, who had received the orders to come to the local Treatment Camps, but had disobeyed, and attempted to seek refuge out here, in the vast expanse of this wretched Northern Province. Such a waste of his time. None were worthy. None would earn his Pride acclaim.

He turned back to face the prisoners. He was an older male, though life had added much more age to him, with bone-grey fur broken with bare scraps where old scars displayed, a patch covered the place where his left eye used to it, and his left sabretooth was broken in half, though its new edge remained sharp as a blade. He enjoyed the reactions of others when they saw him. Few had the courage to ask him why he never bothered to get himself fixed.

But those who did would then be regaled with his tale of how he ended up looking this way: taking on six Kzinti warriors, who had taken umbrage that his Pride’s name was one identical to an apparently-renowned Kzinti Pride. He had eventually won that rather... visceral onomastic debate, and these were his medals. Why would he want to remove them, just to assuage the aesthetic sensibilities of others?

He sighed, before calling out, “Pa-Sankh, recall your cousins from the outer perimeter.”

His son approached from the shadows beyond the clearing. “Father, there are still a few uncaptured Militia scum out there!”

The Pridemaster shrugged. “If they have survived to this point, they deserve to freeze to death in the forests. Recall them; we’re about to eat.”

Pa-Sankh nodded and returned to the shadows, as his father turned to face the clearing, and the prisoners gathered together. He began approaching them, his gravelly voice calling out over the distant sounds of the fires, as he spread out his arms, as if to embrace them. “I am Pridemaster Udul-Lit, and you have the honour of being vanquished by the Thousand Scars Pride.

You will not have heard of us. We are not the biggest Pride in the Patriarchy, nor the wealthiest, nor the best-connected. Indeed, we are looked upon as the dregs of the Patriarchy, fit only for the most base of tasks. But that will change, and very soon.”

He paused as he heard and scented the rest of the Pride gather. “Because this is a time of opportunity for those hungry enough to grasp it.”

He picked out one of the surviving Caitians, a plump, terrified-looking female.

“And we are the Hungriest. As you shall now see.”

And then he launched himself at them, the others joining in.

It was time to Feast.

*

Kaijushima Island, Sea of Derena:

On the other side of Cait, another transport ship ferrying Caitian males, females and cubs landed on a small pad surrounded by thick, vibrant jungle foliage. In contrast to the desert air of Pakui, there was a swaddling moistness here, felt by the passengers as the gull-wing doors rose up and they emerged and looked around curiously.

Their pilot stepped out from behind, walking around to the front. He was an older male with tabby fur, stubby tail and a protruding belly. He was clad in a baggy tropical shirt and shorts, with a set of shaded spectacles resting on his muzzle as he regarded his charges. “I see you’ve all made it safely! Not that there was any doubt about that, but- oh, ah, hope nobody was too upset about that little drop in altitude over the Rhun-”

“Jinjer.”

The male turned at the approach of another male, straightening to attention. “Sir!”

Captain Majes Biggleshen drew up, eyeing his comrade’s casual gear with some wry disdain. “A ‘little drop in altitude’? Care to explain?”

Jinjer’s tail twitched a little. “The, ah, transport ship takes some getting used to, Biggles. Very modern. Too many safety features.”

“Yes, well, with your dubious skills, I’d daresay there can never be enough of those.” But then he smiled and patted his old friend on the shoulder, before turning and addressing the new arrivals. “Welcome to the Kaijushima Island Animal Reserve, my friends. The facilities are underground, shielded from outside sensors, so we’ll be safe here.”

One gray-furred knee-high female cub strode up to him boldly, pointed a finger at him and demanded, “Where’s my Dad? You take me to him, or else!”

A female who was obviously the cub’s mother swiftly followed, drawing back the cub and offering, “I’m sorry about her, Sir! We’ve all- We’ve-”

Biggles smiled warmly. “Nothing to apologise for, Madame.” He dropped to one knee before the cub and spoke without being patronising. “Your Dad is downstairs with the other soldiers in our Hospital, getting fixed up. I’m glad that you and your mother have arrived to help him feel better.” He winked at her and rose again, addressing the rest. “All of the Militia personnel Captain Hrelle rescued from Agana Mount are in the medical facilities below. Some... might not be ready for visitors just now. But all of this will be explained by Mr Shall in the Reception Area below. Please, follow me.”

Ginjir held out an open paw. “And don’t forget to tip your driver.”

Biggles smacked his paw away. “Get moving, there’s a family of Starfleet officers and their families in Highsun waiting to get picked up... and Alji is waiting to land her transport.”

*

Several floors below, Captain Esek Hrelle stood before a viewscreen in the facility’s Ops Centre, looking up at a young, cider-furred Caitian male with unusually-long pointed ears and amber eyes. “We’ve stabilised most of the Militia prisoners, but the Ferasans did a number on a couple of them. We’ve stabilised them, but we need a surgeon here.”

M’Turis, his liaison with the Kaetini Order, frowned. “There’s no one among the Militia families who might be able to take on that role?”

“They’re still coming in, we haven’t had a chance to vet any of them yet. But I’d sooner have some qualified people here serving full time. Can the Kaetini help?”

The other male nodded. “We’ll check our own networks for willing allies; even on a planet as tiny as ours, there must be a few doctors who might fancy a stay on a tropical island full of dinosaurs.” He paused, and then asked, “How’s Sasha doing?”

Hrelle paused, gauging the other male’s intent – not as easy a thing to do when his scent wasn’t in the air, but then Hrelle was accustomed to that after decades of conversations over light years while in Starfleet. Sasha and he had met M’Turis during their last trip to the Kaetini Temple in the jungles of Mrell Province, and he seemed most supportive of the inclusion of Sasha, a Human, into the Caitian Order.

But that was before her very public appearance in Shanos Minor the other day, confronting – and then killing and wounding – several Ferasans who threatened a student demonstration. “She’s managing, as best as one can under the circumstances.” He crossed his arms. “I don’t suppose you’ve found any surviving contacts in the Caitian government... or the Secret Services?”

At his mention of the latter group, more colloquially known as the Mother’s Claws, Hrelle heard a sound from nearby, and glanced from the corner of his eye to see Nenjo, the jet-furred female who may have been the last remaining agent, sitting out of camera view, with a face like a smacked arse. He ignored her.

“None,” M’Turis reported. “We have reason to believe the Matriarch’s Council escaped off-world the night of the invasion. There are volunteers willing to infiltrate the Capitol’s Occupational infrastructure. The Ferasans... like female companionship. As always, we’ll keep you updated.”

Hrelle bristled at the thought of it, but nodded back. “Better wrap up now. Give my respects to Mistress Nvell.” He looked to Lt Mori, sitting nearby; the junior officer ended the communication.

Nenjo growled. “How paternal of you, Captain.”

He faced her fully this time. “Excuse me?”

She fixed dark eyes back on him. “I saw the dismay on your face when M’Turis mentioned the females who would be willingly rutting with the Ferasans to gain valuable intelligence. Is that too much for your masculine sensibilities? Will they be soiled in your eyes forevermore now?”

He bristled. “You know, you’re much more agreeable when you’re not being a smartass. We’re all going to be soiled, in so many ways, before this War is over; I’d have thought you’d worked that out already, Agent Nenjo.” He stepped closer. “But why don’t you finally express what’s really put fleas in your crotch? You still disagree with Sasha’s actions in Shanos Minor.”

She rose to her feet. “By making such a public appearance, she’s confirmed her presence on Cait. Hers, yours and your family’s. It was reckless and foolish.”

“But she had to!” Lt Mori spoke up now, sounding indignant. “The Ferasans were threatening those students! She was amazing!”

The agent smirked. “Clearly you’re on her side. Or at least, parts of you.”

“The news of her intervention has spread across the Cynet,” Hrelle added, recapturing control of the conversation... while also acknowledging to himself the young male’s obvious interest in Sasha colouring his defence of her now. “Rallying others across the Motherworld, shaking people from their trust in the Enemy. Now there’s growing numbers of demonstrations in Shanos Minor, and elsewhere.

And I’ll also remind you that we were there, too, liberating 24 Militia soldiers from Agana Mount at the same time, so I think they’ll be aware of our presence by now. What about the so-called Deep Keep? What more can you tell us about it?”

Nenjo stared back at him for a moment, before moving to a station near Mori and summoning up maps of Cait on the overhead screens. “The idea of a secret military base set up by either the Militia or the Mother’s Claws has been mooted for years among the Intelligence community, but if it exists, its location is above my security level and direct experience. I’ve been running financial and resource audits – you can’t build something that big without leaving a trail – and I have a potential location.”

On one section of a map, a red circle appeared on the top of the Southern Polar region, nestled in a bay-like area several thousand kilometres south by southwest of their present location. “Satellite images currently show nothing there but snow, ice and flocks of crested jeboas. But there is secondary and tertiary evidence of naval vessels and mobile construction platforms congregating in the immediate area for a period between 15 and 20 years ago.”

“But there’s nothing on the ice shelf,” Mori noted, looking at the satellite images.

“It would be a piss-poor secret base if we could see anything,” Hrelle reminded him, turning to Nenjo. “I want Sasha to fly you down there for a reconnoitre.”

The agent continued to stare up at the images, as if she could intimidate the truth from them. “I’ll take her flyer down there myself. She doesn’t have to come along.”

“Yes she does... because it’s her flyer, and you need backup. And because I say so.” He looked back at Mori. “Call up the data Agent Naras acquired of the Ferasan camp in Navath. I want another look at it.”

The mention of her late brother’s name made Nenjo tense, but Hrelle couldn’t help that, as he studied the schematics, requisitions, orders... wait...

“They’re prison camps,” Nenjo decided. “They’re taking innocents hostage, to guarantee our good behaviour. What else do you expect?”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Mori argued. “Look at all the medical equipment! We know the Metremia Threat’s a false flag, but if it was just meant to be a place of confinement-”

“It’s not,” Hrelle declared flatly. He felt the eyes on him as he continued. “It’s a mass fertility clinic.”

Nenjo drew closer to him. “Excuse my impertinence, Captain, but you’re no medical expert-”

He pointed up at one of the equipment lists, his stomach twisting inside him. “I recognise some of that from my previous marriage, to a human, Sasha’s mother, when we were trying for a cub of our own. That equipment is very specialised: it’s designed to manipulate genetic coding sequences in sex cells to minimise rejection in cross-race conception, as well as make adjustments in the uterus to accommodate an implanted fertilised egg.”

That stunned the other two Caitians, until Mori asked, “W-Why- they’re- they’re basically us, aren’t they? I mean, genetically, they are, aren’t they?”

“On some level, perhaps, before our ancestors left Ferasa Prime and came here. But their genetic Augmentation might have carried them too far away from us... and maybe they’ve done further manipulation since the Diaspora. And now, for some reason, they need us.

Lieutenant... begin gathering the names of people disappearing, or being taken for ‘treatment’. I want a report on the demographics: genders, ages, occupations. As much as you can... and as soon as you can. Agent Nenjo, get ready to fly out, while I brief Sasha.”

He growled to himself, a part of him suspecting the reasons behind the Ferasans’ actions. He needed his family here, and for a moment considered delaying Nenjo’s mission to get Sasha to go back to the Shall Clanlands and collect Kami and the others... but he knew they weren’t ready, and with the overall security heightened following the incidents at Shanos Minor and Agana Mount, they had to be more careful than ever.

*

In another part of the facility, Sasha Hrelle passed the autosuture over the abdomen before her a third time, grimacing. “Will you stop fidgeting already, Spots? It’s like you’ve got worms up your ass.”

Lying on his side on the biobed, Jhess Furore shifted once more, reaching behind him to lift his tail up off the side. “On the whole, I’d prefer worms to spending time at Agana Mount.” He grunted in discomfort. “I spoke with Mreia and Shau on that communicator you gave them. Thank you. Thank you for helping them... especially Shau. I know what it cost you.”

She focused on the readings on the autosuture, ensuring its influence was reaching the internal damage he had received at the paws of the Enemy. “It cost me nothing.”

Now he looked up at her. “You had to kill.”

She shrugged. “Only Ferasans.”

Jhess bristled, shifting to half-sit up now, ignoring his pain. “‘Only’? The taking of any life is never easy, Sasha.”

She set aside the autosuture and looked up at the panel above the biobed... still not meeting his eyes. “Really? Tell the Ferasans that. They wiped out over half a million Caitians, here and in space, without a second thought. And they’re killing more and more of us each day.” Now she looked at him, while indicating the other Caitians on other biobeds in the Medical Centre, some of them covered with stasis shells to keep them alive until their critical conditions can be addressed. “Look at what they did to you and your friends!”

Jhess reached out with his paw and took her hand, subtly purring as he did so. “I don’t have to look, Sash. I experienced it. And I’ve fought the Ferasans before...and no doubt will do it again. But we need to keep it all in perspective. We kill because we have to, not because we want to. We don’t have to be bloodthirsty about it. Do you understand?”

Sasha stopped moving around and looked blankly at him. “I understand many things, Jhess. I understand that we’re on our own out here. I understand that we’re outnumbered and outgunned.

And I understand that the only good Ferasan is a dead one.

I also understand that you’re trying to get at me through your purrs.” She slipped her hand from his grasp. “Nice try. But the only one who could ever do that was Dad, when I was six and I needed him to chase away the nightmares.

Now I’m the one who chases away the nightmares.”

*

Capitol Building, First City, M'Mirl Province:

The human was female, pale-skinned with a shock of blonde hair on top of a scarred head, and a black-bladed sword in one hand, a sword she used to slice open throats and hack through Ferasan arms, legs and tails, blood spraying around her, mixed with shrieks and cries that drove back the smarter ones to the walls of the main hall in which they stood.

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

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

She stopped in the centre of the blood-carpeted room, reached into her armoured vest and drew out a large ballistic weapon, one that made a thunderous roar as its explosive, fragmentary bullet turned the table, and the three Ferasans behind it, to splinters-

“Enough.”

The recording froze on a moment of bloody chaos. Melem-Adu, Ferasan Master of the Black Pelt Pride and Master Governor of Cait, glared at the image of the human, recognising her, his furless tail twitching with agitation. “It is the same ape who killed our people at Shanos Minor.” He turned and faced the one who had brought him this, as if for confirmation.

Udul-Lit stood near the spot where Melem-Adu had killed his own son Enam-Bel, for the cub’s failures in Shanos Minor. The other Pridemaster was an ugly old bastard, his voice rough, raspy, like bone rubbing together. “As I promised, Master Governor: Lieutenant Sasha Hrelle of Starfleet, the notorious Tailless Cub who had invaded the Black Talon Pride’s ship and slaughtered nearly all of them...” He looked past Melem-Adu. “As well as a Vorta representative of the Dominion who was a guest onboard.”

Melem-Adu turned in place to glance at Welros, the Vorta liaison assigned to him. The effete little humanoid had been a burr in Melem-Adu’s nethers since their arrival, but a successful Occupation here could secure a permanent alliance between the Ferasan Patriarchy and the Dominion. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we did lose a valuable operative in that incident.”

Melem-Adu looked back at the other Pridemaster. Udul-Lit was guttural trash, leading one of the lesser Prides in the Patriarchy... but over the years had been developing a growing reputation for their ruthless, daring strikes against Federation and Klingon targets. “And you said her father is the Starfleet Captain, Esek Hrelle? The Beast of the Orion Deathmatches?”

Udul-Lit grinned, baring more broken teeth in his muzzle. “She confessed as much in the recordings in Shanos Minor.”

“Then she’s a... mongrel?” Melem-Adu asked with obvious disgust. “Some Caitian-Human hybrid?”

“Not according to my sources in the Orion Syndicate.” Udul-Lit drew closer to the large table of foods that sat in the centre of the room, idly reaching out and picking at some of the many offerings, lifting them up and sniffing at them. “He raised her as his own cub. And by Hrelle’s marriage to the daughter of Ma’Sala Shall, both are linked to that war criminal.”

Melem-Adu watched his fellow Pridemaster help himself uninvited, yet another example of his impertinence. Other Ferasans knew to show deference to him, for his achievements in organising and leading their people in annihilating the Caitian defences and taking control of this wretched planet.

But Udul-Lit? He strolled up to the Capitol uninvited, promising to help solve Melem-Adu’s Caitian problems. Only this ugly bastard’s reputation afforded him an audience with Melem-Adu. “And you believe you can track down these terrorists?”

Udul-Lit’s muzzle was half-filled with food, but now he spat out what was in there onto the floor and chuckled. “Oh yes, Master Governor. It is a matter of honour. Not just for the remnants of the Black Talon Pride, but for our people as a whole... and for our Dominion allies. They, too, have suffered losses.”

Melem-Adu looked once more at Welros, who corrected mildly, “We are not as yet allies, of course. But certainly we would look upon the disposition of these malcontents favourably upon your administration, Master Governor.”

“There you are!” Udul-Lit declared happily. “We’re all in agreement!”

The Master Governor glared at him – I’ll decide when we’re in agreement, you snaggletoothed peon – but was determined not to lose any more proverbial ground in his own territory. “I keep hearing this word ‘Kaetini’. What does it mean?”

“I have no idea, Master Governor,” Udul-Lit responded.

“I wasn’t asking you.” He turned to his First Son. “I charged you with this task earlier.”

Hap-Tek drew up to him and stood formally, his scent and expression more open regarding his disdain for the Thousand Scars Pridemaster. “According to the Caitian expert I have interrogated, the Kaetini are allegedly a revered order of lone warriors in this society, formed in the years following their arrival on this planet, before they had developed a global infrastructure and central government. They hold more ceremonial than actual authority.” Then he pointed up at the image of Sasha with her sword. “Of more interest to us is the blade. I have been told that Kaetini blades are forged from... Arakanium.”

That made Melem-Adu start. “Arakanium? You are certain of this?”

“Undoubtedly. I had experts study the blade used by the human in the images. The properties it displays match the historical records.”

“Pardon my interruption,” Welros spoke up again. “But what is this ‘Arakanium’?”

The Master Governor turned back to him. “An ancient metallic alloy of our ancestors, said to be immensely light but nearly indestructible once forged; much of the hulls of the ships the Caitians used to flee Ferasa Prime contained it. Only a few pieces remain on the Fatherworld; the secrets of its mixture were lost centuries ago.”

He looked back at the image. If they could rediscover the secrets of Arakanium, they could make quantum leaps in weapons and ship construction... more treasure to take from this pathetic world. Now he faced Hap-Tek once more. “Assemble a task force, locate the source of these Kaetini. They are obviously complicit in actions against us. Punish them... but bring me the secrets of Arakanium, whatever the cost.”

His son nodded formally. “With pleasure, Father.”

Now Melam-Adu faced his fellow Pridemaster. “And how do you intend to find the Starfleet terrorists? Pridemaster Ishme-Dagan has searched their ancestral Clanlands. They have not been seen there.”

Now Udul-Lit reached for a gold cup filled with black-purple wine. “Pridemaster Ishme-Dagan has been deceived, or is simply too weak-hearted to do what is necessary. Give me authority to act as I see fit, and I’ll have the Starfleet terrorists in custody or dead before this time tomorrow.” He drank sloppily from the cup, wiping his muzzle on his sleeve. “All I ask is the opportunity to serve you, Master Governor.”

Yes, Melem-Adu agreed to himself sourly. And then afterwards, you’ll claim what you can from your victory. Still, he conceded, was it really any different from Melem-Adu gaining his current exalted position, from a fortunate interception of some classified data on Cait’s defences? “Fine, Pridemaster, I will give you that opportunity. Bring me one of the Hrelles... alive. We need to know how far they’ve gotten with any Resistance activities. Do that, and the Thousand Scars Pride will ascend among the Ferasan Patriarchy.”

Udul-Lit chuckled, raising the cup in his paw to salute the Pridemaster. “With pleasure, Sir.”

*

Shall Clanlands, Mnara Province:

Kami studied the image of her husband on the study screen, seeing the growing tension in his expression, hearing it in his voice. “They’re breeding with us? Why? What’s the point?”

Hrelle scratched the fur under his chin. “I don’t know, and I don’t have anyone here qualified to even confirm my suspicions. Maybe among the families of the Militia we’ve rescued, there may be some medical professionals. Or I could just ask the Ferasans themselves, they seem very friendly and accommodating.”

She grunted. “Why not release the information you do have onto the Cynet? Let the rest of the world see it for themselves, and let them work it out?”

“I’ve thought of it… but so far, people who have publicly questioned the Ferasans’ claims of a Metremia Threat have vanished. Won’t I just be triggering more of the same?”

She leaned forward in her chair. “Maybe… but that might be the price we have to pay. We’ve already sown the seeds of doubt with what happened in Shanos Minor. How’s Sasha dealing with what she did?”

She saw the change in his expression. “Oh, she says she’s fully over that, no problems whatsoever. All part of War, you understand, kill them all, let the Great Mother sort them out. You can guess the rest.”

She nodded sagely. “In other words, she’s not dealing with it at all. I’ll speak with her when we get there.”

“I wish you were all here now.”

“So do I. Jnill is coming here.”

“Jnill?”

“Yes; I sent a surreptitious message to her, inviting her, Mirow, Ptera and Hrulish to join us in hiding.”

Hrelle bared his teeth. “Hrulish? The cowardly kussik who left Sasha to almost be killed by the Vlathi on the Surefoot? You invited him? Seven Hells, Kam-”

She raised a paw to cut him off. “Don’t start; I’ve had this argument with Papa Mi’Tree already. We’re all in this together, I’m not excluding anyone who asks for help, I didn’t say where we were going… and anyway, how likely is it that Hrulish will take us up on the offer, once he learns Sasha will be there, after what he did?”

Hrelle’s image glared at her, looking ready to argue further, before declaring, “I’m sending Sasha over to collect all of you tonight, once she’s done checking out a possible lead with Agent Nenjo on the Deep Keep at the Southern Circle. The sooner you’re all safe here now, the better.” He paused, and then asked, “What about S’Graow?”

“She’ll be coming along with us now. It’ll be safer for her, in case the Ferasans arrive and interrogate her for our location.”

“Do you trust her now?”

“She could have turned us in when the last patrol showed up, but she played her part confidently enough. Does that make you feel better?”

“Not really, no.” An alert on Kami’s end made him start. “What’s that?”

She checked the security system. “Several autocars approaching… civilian, not official.” At his expression she smirked. “The Enemy just beams in without warning, Esek. It’ll be Jnill now.” She reached out and touched the viewscreen. “We’ll be sleeping together again tonight.”

Hrelle touched the screen at his end. “Good, I can’t do all the snoring and farting on my own. Check in at the prescheduled time... and be careful. “

“You, too.”

She emerged quickly from the study, calling out, “We have company coming!”

Seconds later, she heard the familiar footfalls, as Misha came running out of his room and up to her. “Who? The Fearies? I protect you!”

She smiled inwardly as he hugged her; since the announcement of their imminent trip to an island of dinosaurs, his mood had picked up immensely. “Thank you, Sweetheart, but I think they’re friendly visitors. Where’s your Grumpy and Great Aunt?”

“Grumpy’s in the kitchen with Baby Sreen, Great Aunt S’Graow’s having a nap.”

She looked up at the second-floor landing at the top of the stairs. “Ahh. Go tell Grumpy we have visitors.”

He nodded and rushed off, as Kami made her way up. Quietly, as she heard S’Graow’s voice from her room, talking with someone… despite her story about hiding out here from her creditors.

Then the voice stopped, and seconds later S’Graow emerged, the older female stopping, startled by Kami’s presence. “Did I hear you call out about visitors?”

“Yes. Did I hear you speaking with someone despite my warnings to you?”

Her Great Aunt bristled… and then nodded with embarrassment. “I know, I know, it was… it was my snuff dealer. I called, trying to get him to send me a little extra on account, as I figured wherever we’re going, I’m not likely to get deliveries.” 

She breathed out. “He refused. It seems since the Occupation, the price of everything, not just… recreational goods… has skyrocketed. And as you’ve locked out the Clan’s accounts from me despite my being named Matriarch on the Registry, and my personal credit is as frozen as the R’Trerah Archipelago at Frostmoot, well…”

Kami read her voice, scent, stance, saw guilt, chagrin, at being caught out, if not anything else. “So you tried to access the Clan accounts?”

S’Graow’s tail dropped. “Yes. I’m sorry, Kami. Old habits, and all that.”

The younger female crossed her arms. No, you’re not entirely trustworthy. Not yet. “Don’t try that again. And don’t make any more calls. Now come along.”

They descended the stairs in time to see Misha and Mi’Tree, the latter carrying Sreen in her chair. The older male gave S’Graow a dirty look, but then hid it. “Is it that old kussik Jnill?”

“Very Rude Word, Grumpy!” Misha scolded. “Women aren’t private parts!”

“Quite right, Son of Mine,” Kami looked to her father. “And you’re supposed to be setting an example to the cubs, not the other way around. Come.”

They stepped out in time to see not one, but three autocars draw up to the gates – with several dark-suited males hopping out of the first and third vehicles, glancing around… and carrying weapons.

Kami stiffened, seeing similar actions from Security personnel, professionals, watching unspoken signals moving among them, before they gestured to the middle vehicle, a long autocar with tinted windows.

Now the doors slid open, and more familiar figures emerged… “Mirow! Ptera! Jnill!”

She watched the Matriarch approach, closely followed by Kami’s firstborn, helping his pregnant wife along, while others carried luggage. Kami embraced each in turn, and then Misha stepped up to Jnill – and bowed, addressing her in a formal manner, with an obviously-practised speech. “Welcome, Madame, my name is Misha Hrelle. You honour us with this visit. Would you care for tea?”

The other Matriarch looked startled by the offer from the young cub… and utterly beguiled. Yes, you’ve definitely got your father’s charms, Kami thought proudly, as Jnill replied, “Thank you for the offer, Master Misha, but I must decline. But perhaps you can extend the offer to your brother and sister here, while I speak alone with your mother?”

“Okeedoke!” Misha drew up to Mirow and Ptera, taking their paws and adopting a more informal manner. “Come, come! I make good tea!” They disappeared inside.

“Papa,” Kami said softly, turning to Mi’Tree. “Make sure he doesn’t make the tea again.”

“Not to worry, I locked away the garlic and dillweed this time.” He looked to S’Graow. “Come along, ‘Bond-Sister’. The True Matriarchs need some privacy.”

Kami nodded to S’Graow, and watched the rest of them enter the Clanhouse. Then she glanced at the guards by the vehicles. “Your idea, I presume?”

Jnill sighed, looking around the gardens. “A necessity, these days; security has become precarious, as you yourself will confirm. Come, show me around.”

The two females sauntered with apparent insouciance around the vibrant foliage. Jnill slowed down a little at a floral explosion of red and umber petals. “I never liked Mnaran firewheels. The blossoms always reminded of a terrible fire I saw when I was young and visiting the family shipyards. I... tried to brave, so as not to disappoint Father.”

Kami sensed the change in the other female’s tone, a vulnerability lacking any of the expected snobbery. Was it now because they were both Matriarchs, on equal footing? Or was there something more? “Thank you for taking up the offer to come with us-”

“I will not be coming. In fact, I’m not here. My official itinerary confirms I’m on my own, visiting our company’s annex here in Mnara Province, and I’m due back in two hours. You’ll take the cubs... but I must return.”

Kami stopped and faced her. “Why? What if they come for you, in their quest for us? They might... interrogate you...”

“Oh, I’m far too valuable to the Enemy for them to harm me, my dear.” She moved into a circular clearing, with stone benches set up around the circumference like the numbers on a chroniker face. “Which is what I need to talk to you about.”

She sat down, adjusting her tail behind her and silently invited Kami to sit down beside her. “I will assume that you and your husband and other members of Starfleet are engaged in activities to respond to the Occupation – no need to confirm this, I’d sooner maintain plausible deniability – so you will probably need this information: my company has been compelled to produce a small fleet of large-scale passenger transports for the Ferasans.”

“What? Why?”

“We have been told they are local medical transport ships, but the specifications given us confirm they’re really designed for interstellar travel.” She looked directly at Kami. “They’re planning on taking our people away. In great numbers.”

Kami swallowed, frowning at the thought of it. Esek had told her about the specific medical facilities the Ferasans were setting up in their camps. The thought of what they were doing... then her brow furrowed in disbelief. “And you’re helping them?”

“They think I am. Were I to refuse outright, or just disappear with you and our cubs, the Enemy would take over the business, or contract someone else. But there will be delays, accidents, incidents... and ultimately, none of the ships will fly. You have my word as a Caitian, and a fellow Matriarch.” Jnill looked ahead again, to the Shall Clanhouse, as if she could see through the walls. “And I will be able to operate more effectively, knowing Ptera, Mirow and my imminent Grandcub will be safe from reprisals.”

Kami felt her heart quicken at what she was hearing. “Are you... Are you sure you want to do this, Jnill?”

The older female reached out and took Kami’s paw in her own. “All things being equal, I would sooner be spending my twilight years retired on our Clan villa at Lake Meru. But I’m Caitian, and if the Motherworld needs me where I am now, in order to defend Her, then so be it.” She looked around. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited sooner. The last time I was here, it was for our cubs’ wedding. It was a beautiful day...” She looked back at Kami with a wry smile. “Apart from when you knocked me across Ma’Sala’s study for insulting your new husband.”

Kami felt herself blush beneath her fur from the memory. “Yes, I, ah, recall. I’m sorry again for that.”

Jnill smiled, squeezing the other female’s paw. “Don’t be. It was something I fully deserved... and I daresay your mother would have delivered a harsher lesson to me if you had not reacted first.” She looked around again. “If I’m asked about Ptera and Mirow, I will say they fled, and I have no idea where, which will be truth enough. I trust you will not tarry here for much longer, before you go where you need to go.”

“We will all be gone by dusk, Great Mother Willing. Come inside, have some tea.”

Jnill stared ahead, and then returned to her feet “Thank you my dear, but no. I loathe emotional goodbyes... and were I to linger, I would break.” As Kami joined her on her feet, Jnill faced her, looking more vulnerable than any other time Kami had seen her. “You are a worthy successor to Ma’Sala as Matriarch; our cubs are in safe paws with you and your husband. Good luck.”

Kami pulled her into a deep, emotional hug. “Good luck to us all.”

*

Kaetini Temple, Mrelle Province:

Hap-Tek looked out through the cockpit of the Ferasan battle cruiser at the seemingly-endless jungle tops stretching out to the horizon, glad to have chosen to fly here with his males rather than just transport down to the intended location. He spotted the top of the temple just ahead, and made a pleasing sound. “Good work, Pet. It seems you were telling the truth.”

He tugged at the rope in his left paw, the rope leading to the noose around the neck of the Caitian female on her knees beside him. “Didn’t you hear me, Pet? You pleased me. You and your family will live.”

She tried to ignore him... until she pulled the rope up enough to begin choking her.

He grunted as he regarded her again. She was a typical Caitian female in her early thirties, shapely enough, with a mane of honey-blonde fur and an appealing scent. Her muzzle was tainted with bruises and claw marks, and her business suit was torn in places ... but Hap-Tek reminded himself that it was her own fault. When his people had contacted First City University for an expert on the Kaetini, she practically volunteered! And she was pleasing to his eyes and nose...

“Hap-Tek,” reported one of the pilot sitting ahead of him, his furless tail swishing behind him. “We are detecting the remnants of a large, ancient spaceship, hidden beneath the jungle foliage!”

He chuckled at that. “Excellent.” They would have to defoliate this entire Province to properly collect the Arakanium, once they had deciphered the means of processing and duplicating the alloy. Nothing would ever grow here again as a result, but who cared about that? He looked down at the female. “Hey- ah, what was your name again?”

He watched her wipe the blood from the side of her muzzle, gathering herself. “C’Moran. Professor Lia C’Moran- I’m the Head of the History Department of-“

The rest of her response was cut off as Hap-Tek tugged roughly at her leash again. “I’ll just keep calling you ‘Pet’.” He pointed at the top of the pyramid sticking up over the jungle. “Is that it?”

C’Moran nodded. “It’s... It’s the historical site of training for the martial art of K’Gressir, which all Kaetini are supposed to learn. It... It was built on the crash site for one of the original Arks...”

“We’re detecting Caitians within the temple,” another Ferasan reported. “Energy sources, communication devices, energy weapons...”

Hap-Tek laughed. “Oh, you beautiful Galaxy! My cousins, we’ve not just discovered the secrets of Arakanium, we might have also found the hiding place of the Starfleet terrorists!” He felt a familiar stirring, and barked, “Burn us a clearing near the temple and then land us!” Roughly he dragged C’Moran back to her feet and towards the rear of the battle cruiser. “I’ll be back presently!”

Fifteen minutes later, the cruiser had landed on a smouldering, irregular circle of scorched ground, the air still thick with the smoke of burning foliage from the cruiser’s disruptors, as armed Ferasans emerged, setting up a security perimeter as Hap-Tek now appeared, with C’Moran still dragged along on the rope, as he looked up at the temple, a massive trapezoid of many stone layers, steep steps and narrow windows here and there.

“Impressive,” the Ferasan noted. “It was foolish to hide it in all this wretched jungle growth.”

“The jungle was here before the temple,” she said blankly. “Before any of us; it had a greater right to be here than we did. And the temple is not here to be an object of admiration, but protection. The protection of the secrets of our past.”

She flinched as he reached out and cupped her muzzle in his paw. “Well, Pet, we’ll protect the secrets now.” Louder, he called out, “Search Pattern Blackclaw! Find an entrance, kill no one if you can help it, and DESTROY NOTHING!”

He smirked at his Caitian captive. “At least, not yet.”

*

Kaijushima Island:

Sasha ran through the final checks on the pilot’s display when she heard the sounds of someone entering. “About fricking time.”

“Cheeky cub.”

She turned in her seat. “Grandpa? Sorry, I thought you were Agent Nenjo. What are you doing here?”

Bneea stepped closer, carrying a tray of food. “I brought you some dinner to take with you on the trip.”

Sasha almost reminded him that her flyer had an onboard replicator, before simply smiling, rising and replying, “Thanks, Grandpa.” She approached and took the tray from him, securing it before hugging him. “Really, thank you.”

He pulled back and frowned. “Ooh, maybe I should have brought a tray for Agent Nenjo?”

“No, I’m sure she’s got some spy rations or something hidden in her armpit- what’s wrong?”

Bneea regarded his granddaughter, squeezing her arms as he continued to hold her. “Your grandmother Ma’Sala was so proud of you, as is your other Grandfather and I. Not just what you’ve done, but your strength of spirit.” Then his expression turned serious. “But none of us want that spirit to be twisted by hate... no matter the provocation.”

Sasha swallowed, but before she could respond, Nenjo boarded. “Are we not going, then?”

Sasha ignored her, looking up at Bneea as she said, “I’ll try. Thanks again, give my love to Dad, and I promise we’ll be back tonight with the rest of the family. Then Grandpa Mi’Tree can recreate his role from The Island That Time Forgot and wrestle a baby Gorosaurus.”

Bneea laughed and hugged her once more before departing, nodding politely to Nenjo. Sasha closed the door as Nenjo took the pilot seat, though not before glancing at the meal and smirking. “Did your Grandpa really bring you your dinner? Does he tuck you in at night as well?”

Sasha stopped the launch sequence long enough to stab a finger at the Caitian female. “You make one more joke about him, and I’ll be tucking my boot up your ass! Understood?”

*

In Kaijushima’s Ops Centre, Hrelle stared up at the viewscreen, alarm clear in his expression if not his scent at the news. “The Ferasans are there? At the Temple? You have to get out of there, M’Turis! Get Mistress Nvell to safety! I’ll get our flyers there-”

“No, Big Balls, you won’t.” The image of M’Turis in front of him was quickly replaced by an equally-familiar face: female, ashen-furred, ancient but still vibrant and strong-looking. “We’ve got it all sorted. We’re just letting you know we’ll be incommunicado for a few days while we set up in our new location, so don’t worry.”

He swallowed, not certain if the Kaetini Mistress understood the gravity of the situation, but not feeling arrogant enough to question her. “There must be something we can do for you?”

“Yes, you can stop acting like a mewling little cub, and remember I’m almost twice your age, Asswipe! “

“Mistress Nvell, with respect, you’ve not dealt with Ferasans before-”

Nvell snorted. “Nor they with me. Save all that spunk for your wife, leave her with a limp and a smile for once instead of having to clear all the snack crumbs out of your bed. Talk to you later.”

“Mistress Nvell!”

But the transmission ended.

He breathed out, staring at the blackened screen.

Nearby, Lt Mori, who had alerted him to the Emergency call from the Kaetini, asked, “Sir, should I try to hail them again?”

“No,” Hrelle finally replied. “We don’t want to have our signal tracked back to us. Just set an alert in case they call back and no one is on duty.”

“But what about the medical staff we asked for? We still have Militia people injured, some serious!”

Hrelle turned to him. “My wife’s firstborn is married to a surgeon; she’ll do for a bit, hopefully. And maybe some of the Militia families have qualified people. I’d better go find out about that.” He looked back at the screen, picturing the elderly Mistress... and hoping that she really was as capable as she seems.

*

Shall Clanlands, Mnara Province:

“Meesh! Meesh!” Sitting in her chair on the floor, Sreen pointed a finger in the direction of her nearby milk bottle. “Mik! Mik! NOW!”

Misha blew a raspberry at her, but he picked up the bottle and scooted up to sit on the floor beside his sister, fitting the nipple of the bottle into her muzzle, supporting the bottle and watching her greedily suck. “Just changed you, Baby Sreen. You gonna pee again.”

Mi’Tree chuckled as he sat at his bedroom table, letting his medical unit interface with his cardiac regulator. “It is as inevitable as night following day, Dear Cub.” He removed the dermal pad on his furry chest and let the unit update with the local hospital, before turning in his chair to regard his grandcubs, smiling. “I’m very proud of you, Misha.”

He looked up, frowning. “What I do?”

“You take such good care of your baby sister. She knows she can depend upon you, and she’ll remember what you do for her. And all of this will stand you in good stead many years from now, when you have cubs of your own someday.” He sighed wistfully. “I only wish I could be around to see that...”

Misha grunted when Sreen spat up milk, and he put down the bottle and wiped her muzzle with the bib around her neck. “Why, where you going?”

Mi’Tree breathed in, buttoning up his shirt again. “Nowhere yet, Dear Cub. Nowhere yet. I mean, I’m not immortal... and if I’m quite honest, I wouldn’t want to be; I’m happy to be a small if memorable part of the Great Story.”

“‘Great Story’? What’s that?”

The older male looked to him, rose and smiled. “The Great, Unending Story, stretching back long before any of us were born, and continuing long after all of us are gone. And we all play parts in it.”

He drew closer, picked up Sreen’s chair by its handle and walked her out onto the landing, Misha following, the elderly male’s voice taking on a soothing tone practised since taking on the role of the Taleteller. “Some of us play great roles, others lesser roles. Some of us are heroes, others villains, most of us... a mix of both. Sometimes the story turns wonderful... other times it’s sad, or scary. It can be unfair. And we’ll never know how long we have.” 

He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked to Misha. “So: remember to use your time wisely, to be heroic and kind and good, and to be the best someone that you can be.”

Then Sreen hissed loudly.

The air crackled, as transporter columns appeared around them. Misha glanced around. “Grumpy? Is it Papa?”

Mi’Tree turned as the columns coalesced into Ferasans carrying disruptor rifles. “What the-“

The Ferasan nearest him swung out the butt of his rifle, viciously striking the Caitian male across the side of his head and sending him sprawling the carpet.

He lost his hold on Sreen’s chair. It dropped to the floor, at the edge of the top of the stairs, and began tipping over.

Instinctively Misha dove for it, dodging the gasp of a second Ferasan and saving his sister, before the Ferasan finally caught him with his boot, sending him sprawling over his grandfather.

“MEESH!” Sreen screamed, roaring at his attacker.

*

In the living room, Kami was sitting with S’Graow, Mirow and Ptera when her personal security alarm beeped an Intruder Alert, seconds before the transporter columns appeared and coalesced. She rose to her feet, charging towards the nearest incoming Ferasan and driving her foot into him before he had a chance to do anything other than double over and tumble over a side table.

A second Ferasan charged and swung out with his paw, claws extended, but Kami dodged and kicked at his kneecaps, roaring as she heard her daughter screaming from the top of the stairs.

“MAMA!” Mirow called out now.

She froze, turning to see Mirow and Ptera on their feet, Ferasans holding her firstborn and his wife from behind, disruptors jammed against their heads. A second later, the butt of a disruptor struck Kami across the muzzle, sending her to the floor.

She crawled backwards from the one who had hit her, spitting out blood as she looked up at the obvious leader of the party, an old, scarred male with bone-white fur and a broken sabretooth. He held out his arms, and over the continued cries from Sreen in the next room, asking, “Now, is that any way to greet visitors to your home, Counselor?”

*

Kaetini Temple, Mrelle Province:

Hap-Tek shoved Professor C’Moran ahead of him, to join his males in the larger chamber they found, an arched enclosure filled with electronic equipment and illuminated with lighting strips overhead. “What is this place?”

She looked around. “A communications centre. The Kaetini keep connected with all their operatives around Cait.”

“Then this will hold the locations of all the Kaetini agents,” he concluded. “And their swords. We’ll want their swords, the Arakanium from them.” He drew closer and smacked her across the muzzle. “Access the systems!”

She stiffened, but complied, her fingers moving over the keyboard of the nearest station. Seconds later, she drew back. “Someone has wiped them. Her people here must have seen you coming, and done this-“

Her further explanation was lost, as Hap-Tek grabbed her by her mane and twisted her around to face him, as he snarled, “You mean there is nothing here? The secrets of forging Arakanium? Those who would know the method? You lie! And you will pay for that-”

“Commander!” One of his males called to him. “There is a Caitian in the other room!”

Hap-Tek grunted, dragging C’Moran along with him as he joined the others in another, equally large room, a long hall that ended with a stone throne-like chair sitting on a dais at the far end... where an elderly female in a plain purple robe sat, head bowed, grey fur obscuring her face.

“Who is that?” Hap-Tek muttered.

“It’s Mistress Nvell,” C’Moran replied reverently. “The leader of the Kaetini.”

The Ferasan grunted. “That withered old fossil?” He tugged on C’Moran’s rope as he strode up to the other end of the hall. “You! Old Cat! Where are your plans for making Arakanium? Your forges and resources?”

The elderly female looked up now, bronze eyes narrowing as she regarded the newcomers.

Then she rose, leaning heavily on a wooden staff in her left paw as she smiled and asked, “Is that you, Sonny?”

Hap-Tek blinked. “What?”

Nvell’s expression brightened with recognition. “It is you! My beautiful Grandcub!” She hobbled down from the dais and limped up to him. “You came to visit, like you promised!”

Then she embraced him, patting him on the shoulder.

Hap-Tek extricated himself, stepping back, confusion and disgust etched on his face. “What in the Supreme Father’s name- are you mad?”

But Nvell didn’t seem to hear him, looking him over. “You’ve grown so much! I remember when you could fit in the crook of my arm, and I bounced you on my lap and fed you tavaberry juice until you piddled in your diaper!”

Some of the other Ferasans tittered at that, until Hap-Tek hissed at them, before stabbing an accusing glare at C’Moran. “This is the leader of the Kaetini?”

The Professor now looked a little embarrassed. “I... I have heard that they allow her to keep the title, despite her... reduced sensibilities.” She glanced around again. “Everyone must have fled, taking the secrets, and left her behind.”

“I like pudding,” Nvell informed them happily, skipping lightly around her staff. “They give me pudding every Hansaday evening after supper, and then we watch a funny Vivid.”

“I don’t believe this,” Hap-Tek muttered. “We come all this way here, and instead of the secrets of Arakanium we find an addled old cat that smells of piss!”

Nvell stopped and looked at him now, eyes bright. “Have you come to learn the secrets, Sonny?”

He bristled. “You know them? Are they rattling around in that empty eggshell you call a skull, you old bitch?”

Nvell chuckled and danced some more, seemingly oblivious to his insults. “They think they took them all... but they don’t know about the ones in the Lower Gallery.” She stopped and winked at him mischievously.

“What? What Lower Gallery?”

Then the elderly female began singing as well as dancing, “Lower Gallery, Lower Gallery, no one goes to the Lower Gallery...”

Hap-Tek grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to face him, snarling, “Show us this Lower Gallery!”

Nvell looked to him, still guileless, before reaching up and gently cupping the side of his muzzle with her paw, purring, “Of course, Sonny. Anything for my dear grandcub.”

*

Shall Clanlands, Mnara Province:

The hostages sat in the chairs and on the couches in the living room, with a calmer Sreen wrapped up in Kami’s arms and Misha wedged between her mother and grandfather, as half a dozen Ferasans surrounded them. 

Kami ignored the pain throbbing in her head to focus on their leader, gain whatever information she could from her assessment: a Pridemaster, though definitely not one of the higher, wealthier Prides, with extensive personal combat experience, something she saw not just from his scars and other wounds, but his stance, his reactions. In many ways, he reminded her of what Esek was like, when he was still fresh from his time in the Orion Deathmatches...

He carried himself like he had already won. Perhaps he had.

He kept his eyes on her as another one of his males – all members of his Pride, to judge from the shared familial scents she picked up – entered from outside. “We have scoured the grounds, Uncle, and down to the beach. There is a yacht and a powerboat at the docks, but no one is inside. The nearest neighbours appear to be four lachters away.”

The leader grunted. “Return to my brother, tell him to post watchers on the overlook to the beach; if I was the Captain, I would come in low over the water, to avoid detection from our high-altitude patrols.” As the younger male obeyed and departed, the Pridemaster glanced up at the ceiling, as the sounds of other Ferasans searching the rest of the house could be heard. “I am Udul-Lit, Master of the Thousand Scars Pride. You are Counselor Kami Hrelle, of Starfleet.”

She swallowed, focused on presenting to him a frightened female... an image more real than facade, she acknowledged to herself. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Sir. My name is Mleni Dal, Kami’s cousin. And I’m not in Starfleet; my husband and I run a restaurant in Kamar-Taj in Meru Province. If you check our records-”

“Then we will no doubt find very excellent forgeries, Counselor. You fight rather well for someone who apparently runs a restaurant.”

“Food critics can be brutal in our city.”

Udul-Lit laughed with a raspy sneer. “I like you, Counselor. That won’t save you, however. Any of you. Before you continue this valiant but pointless exercise, bear in mind this: what I lack in beauty and refinement, I make up for in ferocity... and intelligence gathering. I have contacts in the Orion Syndicate who supplied me with detailed files on you, your husband, his tailless ape daughter...” He indicated Misha. “Your son.” Then he pointed at Sreen, the disgust clear in his expression. “And this little crippled lump of flesh.”

Misha growled at him.

Udul-Lit made an amused sound as he walked around. “I know what you all look like.” He stopped at a framed image on the wall, removing it and holding it up for the captives. “See? Here you all are, at what appears to be a marriage ceremony.” He indicated Ptera and Mirow. “You two, I believe? The Counselor’s son from a previous marriage, and his wife? And see, here is Captain Hrelle himself, and the Tailless Ape, standing next to the murderous whore Ma’Sala Shall-”

Mi’Tree bristled, eyes burning at the invaders to his home, but otherwise kept silent.

Udul-Lit tossed the picture aside, and then began walking around some more, casually knocking things over. “It’s foolish to continue this charade, Counselor. I’m quite happy to tear your world apart to get what I what. To tear your family apart. To tear you apart.”

She glanced up at the chroniker: the deadline for her sending a signal to Esek on the Island had passed, and no doubt they would be trying to contact, and failing. They would come. All that she and the others here had to do... was survive. “Pridemaster, I know I look a little like my cousin Kami – that sort of thing runs in our family – so I wouldn’t want you to lose your standing within the Patriarchy by being found wrong.”

He stopped and looked at Misha. “Good evening. Where’s your father hiding?”

Misha scowled, crossed his arms and said nothing.

The Ferasan nodded sagely. “Ahhh, I see... he’s afraid. The renowned Captain Esek Hrelle of the Surefoot is afraid to face me. He’s nothing but a dirty coward.”

Now Misha broke his silence. “Papa’s not afraid of you, you big poop!”

Mi’Tree rested a paw on his grandcub’s arm. “Don’t, Misha.”

Udul-Lit chuckled, looking back at Kami. “I like your cub; he has loyalty and spirit. I might take him with us. Many of your younger, braver specimens are being collected now, to be adopted into our Pride... once they’ve undergone modification to make them... fit in better with our people, of course.”

His words, and the implication behind them, sent a chill down Kami’s spine, but she forced herself to stay focused on keeping him focused on her, and not anyone else. “Pridemaster, I don’t know what sort of records you’ve been given, but I can assure you, we don’t know this Captain Esek Hrelle.”

“You’re boring me now, Counselor. So, how do you contact him?”

“Pridemaster, I keep telling you-”

He raised his disruptor in the direction of Mirow and Ptera, pointing it at Ptera’s pregnant belly. “Finish that lie, Counselor. I dare you.”

Mirow bared his teeth. “Don’t you fucking threaten my wife-”

Misha roared, tried to leap up at Udul-Lit, but was caught by Mi’Tree, though he continued to struggle in his grandfather’s grip. Sreen howled.

Suddenly S’Graow rose to her feet, tensing as the other Ferasans pointed their weapons at her. Over the din of the cubs, she announced, “Pridemaster! I am S’Graow Shall, the Matriarch of this Clan! If you come into my office, perhaps we can discuss this matter like civilised people?”

Udul-Lit regarded her a moment, before lowering his weapon. “But of course, Matriarch. Pa-Sankh, Har-Bai, you will follow. ThirdSon, watch over the rest of them.” He bared his broken teeth at Sreen, who continued to mewl. “You’ll have this freak silenced by the time we return, Counselor, or I’ll bash its head against the nearest wall.”

“FIGHT ME!” Misha roared at him, almost squirming out of his grandfather’s grasp. “FIGHT ME!”

The Ferasan smirked at the cub’s challenge. “I might just do that before this day is out, Little One. I might end up adopting you.” He motioned for S’Graow to lead the way.

Kami looked up at her aunt. What did she think she could do? But what could Kami say or do now? 

“Calm her down, Kami,” Mi’Tree whispered to her, his eyes fixed on the remaining Ferasans as he purred against Misha to settle him again.

She looked down, focusing on her poor daughter, not understanding what was happening around her, and calmed herself, sending purrs through the infant... and when her own efforts failed, she reached inside to adjust the controls on Sreen’s exoframe, which allowed her to overcome her disability and control her limbs. The interface could also induce a calming, receptive state, to help a cub wearing one of them to suppress any agitation and stress during the times when they were learning to operate the exoframe. Almost immediately, Sreen began relaxing again.

Kami wished for one for herself.

*

The study looked like a bomb had been detonated in here, and S’Graow had to step over toppled lamps and bookcases, readying her pitch to the Ferasans but waiting until they closed the door so her niece didn’t hear. “Pridemaster, I don’t know if you’re aware, but I have been in contact with your offices already about handing over the Starfleet terrorists to you.”

Udul-Lit stood there, thumbs tucked into his wide black leather belt, flanked by the other two males. “I am aware, Madame. I am also aware that you have as yet to fulfil your side of the bargain.”

“That’s hardly my fault; Captain Hrelle and his human daughter have been away, no doubt making plans at their secret base of operations.”

“I gathered that much myself, Caitian.”

S’Graow took a moment to breathe in, as she continued to assess him. He was certainly a more brusque, impulsive sort than the last one she had been dealing with, the one who had agreed to an arrangement. But still, she had spent a lifetime learning to wrap her tail around others. And though she had never encountered Ferasans until they came to her world, she thought she had the measure of them by now. “I explained to the other Ferasan that I needed more time, time to get them to open up and trust me enough to lure the other Hrelles here-”

“He no longer has the responsibility to achieve that goal,” Udul-Lit informed her. “I do. And I am not a patient male.”

“I swear to you, I will do anything to help you- Wait!“ She paused, and then suggested, “If they think you’re hurting me in here, Kami’ll give in. I’ve softened her up.”

Then he raised a finger, his eyes widening with comprehension as he regarded her. “Yessss... what a good idea! If we kill you, that will surely break them!”

S’Graow frowned. “Wait- No, not kill-”

He drove his fist into her stomach, making her double over and drop to the floor, even as she distantly heard Udul-Lit clear the desk behind her of objects on its surfacing, telling his sons, “Let your old man have some fun first, okay, lads?”

S’Groaw fought back the pain to try and crawl away, as futile a gesture as that was, before Udul-Lit broke her muzzle, grabbed her by her mane and lifted her up to rip off her clothes and continue beating her.

*

Kaijushima Island:

Standing beside his bond-father Bneea, Hrelle looked at the assembled group of new arrivals with no small measure of admiration, how many of them could still fit in their old uniforms, and chose to wear them now, in this hour of need for the Motherworld. “Thank you. Thank you all for choosing to come here. Those of you who brought families will be billeted as quickly as possible, and we’re arranging for recreational and educational areas for the cubs, rotas for the cafeteria. We are short on medical staff at the moment, so-“

“Ahem.” An auburn-furred, middle-aged female in a more modern, blue-themed Starfleet uniform, crossed her arms, her scent and expression acerbic. “Gilian T’Ana, Chief Medical Officer, USS Cerritos. As it looks like Shore Leave is over, I’d better step up. Just tell me when we can expect the Starfleet forces to appear to help take back Cait?”

Hrelle crossed his arms. “Look around. We’re it.”

T’Ana stared at him, before turning to the Caitian to her right and asking, “Is he fucking kidding?”

“I wish I was.” Hrelle replied, adding to the rest, “There will be a formal Security briefing at 2000 Hours tonight. Dismissed,” He looked to Bneea. “Take Dr T’Ana to the Medical Bay, along with anyone else with the qualifications to assist.” Then he turned as Lt Mori approached, noting the young male’s scent of concern. “What is it?”

“Captain, Counselor Hrelle hasn’t reported in at the assigned time.”

Hrelle frowned. “You didn’t try to contact the house, did you?”

“No, Sir. I followed Security Protocol, and sent several microprompts to her portable comm unit, with no response.”

He glanced at Bneea, who had stayed on hearing the news. “Have we picked up any Ferasan traffic in Mnara?”

Mori hesitated. “Not communications traffic, Sir... but I’ve been making improvements in accessing and monitoring the Ferasan Transporter Network. A large number of Ferasans were transported into the Mnara Province. I’m triangulating now.”

“Why is it taking so long?” Bneea asked impatiently.

Hrelle knew the answer to that, but the young male beat him to it. “We need to hide and conserve our access of their Network for such activities, Mr Shall, in case they backtrack to us.”

“Let’s go,” Hrelle commanded, his thoughts stretching out five thousand kilometres eastward across the Sea of Denara to the Shall Clanlands. Beloved, please be safe, you and our cubs...

*

Kami forced herself to stay calm as she heard the sounds from the study. She had to stay in control despite her pain, her fear for her family and herself. But Great Mother, what was happening in there was unmistakable-

“What going on?” Misha demanded loudly, guilelessly, looking to the adults. “Is Aunt S’Graow fighting them?”

Mi’Tree wrapped a large arm around the cub, his face also creased with agitation at what they were hearing. “No, no, Dear Cub, just... just sit here, don’t move, don’t make noise...”

Kami looked across to Mirow and Ptera; her kin-son was also distressed, though perhaps as much for his wife and how the situation was affecting her condition (and how her scent accentuates his protective nature over her). She sat there, paws clutching either side of her belly, head bowed, breathing in and out thorugh her nostrils, and her face concentrated to control her stress, though her rounded ears kept twitching from what she could not avoid hearing.

Kami adjusted her support of Sreen in her arms. She couldn’t let this continue. She looked to the nearest Ferasan. “Get your Pridemaster, I’ll summon my husband.”

No one moved.

“Didn’t you hear me? Stop what you’re doing to S’Graow! I’ll contact Captain Hrelle!”

“Kami,” Mi’Tree breathed.

Then Udul-Lit returned, carrying a bottle of Spican flame whiskey that had been in the study, sauntering in as if having just woken up, and moving for a spare chair.

Kami caught the scent of sex – and blood – on him, swallowed her own revulsion, and focused on reaching him. “Pridemaster, tell your sons to stop what they’re doing to my aunt. I’ll contact Captain Hrelle.”

The Ferasan lifted up the chair by its back and brought it closer to her, turning it around so he could straddle it, grunting slightly as he made himself comfortable.

“Pridemaster,” she entreated more forcefully. “It’s not necessary to hurt her any longer!”

It went quiet in the study.

“I think you’re right, Counselor,” he noted dryly. “How do you contact your husband?”

She stared back at him, unable to think about S’Graow, needing to focus on saving the rest of them. “There’s a communicator, on top of the refrigeration unit in the kitchen.”

The Pridemaster looked up to one of his males and made a gesture, the male quickly complying and returning with the handheld unit. Udul-Lit accepted it, studied it, and then found the right controls and switched it on. “Captain Hrelle? Are you there? Captain?” He smiled at Kami as he added, “Don’t make me break your son’s back to make you talk, Captain.”

Esek’s voice finally responded. “Who is this?”

The Ferasan smiled. “I am the male who has taken your house and your family. I want you and your tailless ape daughter here. Immediately.”

A pause, and then, “We’ll comply. Don’t hurt anyone.”

Udul-Lit looked up as his sons returned from the study... bloodied. “Oh, it’s a little too late for that, Captain. Your Matriarch is dead... and a little too chewy for my tastes. The rest are about to follow, right now.”

“Wait- I’m on the other side of the world, it’ll take time for us to get there!”

“Not my problem. The sooner you get here, the more survivors there’ll be.”

“NO! DON’T HURT THEM! I’M COMING-”

Udul-Lit switched off the communicator and threw it away. His eyes still on Kami, he said, “Pa-Sankh, go outside, tell your uncles and cousins to be on alert. The Starfleet scum will be here before you know it.”

*

“Oh, it’s a little too late for that, Captain. Your Matriarch is dead. The rest are about to follow, right now.”

Hrelle’s heart triphammered.“Wait- I’m on the other side of the world, it’ll take time for us to get there!”

“Not my problem. The sooner you get here, the more survivors there’ll be.”

“NO! DON’T HURT THEM! I’M COMING-”

From his station, Mori looked up with an alarmed expression. “The transmission was cut off at the source, Sir.”

Hrelle stopped listening, barrelling up to the next Comm station. “Sasha! Come in! ANSWER!”

Terrible seconds later, she responded. “Dad? What’s wrong?”

“Where are you now?”

“Over the Free Sea, east-southeast of Bahari-“

“Never mind! Turn around, get to our house! The Ferasans are there! They’ve killed S’Graow, they’re gonna kill the others! GO!”

“We’ll be there in twenty minutes! Tailless out!” He heard the transmission end.

He stepped back, fighting his thoughts – Idiot, you should have brought them here from the very start! – and turned to the others in the room, seeing Biggles. “One of your transport ships-”

The older aeronaut looked to him. “Is yours... but they’re standard commercial vehicles! At their top speeds it would still take at least five hours to get to Mnara Province!”

Hrelle bared his claws, turned and roared up at the ceiling, his limbs coiled like springs. They were all going to be killed! NO NO NO NO NO NO-

“Sir!” Mori called to him, looking too terrified to approach. When Hrelle fixed on him, he continued, “Sir, I might be able to get you there immediately, using the Ferasan Transport Network!”

“What?” He approached the younger male. “How? It’s secure, they could trace the beam back to us!”

“I don’t think so, Sir, not if we limit it to one trip, one way, one person!” Mori looked so earnest.

Hrelle knew that sometimes, the young will exaggerate in order to impress or placate. He didn’t know if this was the case. He didn’t care at this stage, however. “You have five minutes to get ready. I’m getting suited up.” He glanced at Bneea, who looked like Hrelle felt, nodding and offering a silent assurance that he would save them.

Those that he could.

 *

In the Tailless, one minute ago, Sasha rechecked the Prowl cloaking device, before Nenjo noted, “You need to stay below the speed of sound, or the Prowl will not be able to compensate for atmospheric disruption-”

“I know the requirements for a cloaked ship in an atmosphere,” Sasha informed her sharply. “I’m not some tail-chasing cub.”

Nenjo grunted and looked away. “Do you really think that using our phrases, speaking our language and being adopted into one of our clans will ever make you one of us?”

Sasha glanced in her direction. “Wow, that’s very direct; that’s so unlike a spy. Hope they don’t take away your secret decoder ring-”

Then her father’s voice filled the cockpit. “Sasha! Come in! ANSWER!”

She froze for a heartbeat. “He’s breaking radio silence?” She opened the channel. “Dad? What’s wrong?”

“Where are you now?”

“Over the Free Sea, east-southeast of Bahari-“

“Never mind! Turn around, get to our house! The Ferasans are there! They’ve killed S’Graow, they’re gonna kill the others! GO!”

She moved instantly. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes! Tailless out!” Her fingers moved over her controls.

Nenjo looked to her. “Twenty minutes? Are you insane? We can’t get there in twenty minutes! We’re nearly six thousand kilometres away! Every Ferasan sensor on the planet will pick us up!”

Sasha ignored her, continuing to key in the necessary commands. Harnesses snaked out over both occupants, and neck braces rose up from the seats.

“They’ll be onto us like flies on shit!”

Sasha overrode the safety blocks on the deflectors, structural integrity and inertial dampening fields.

“Are you even listening to me?” Nenjo demanded.

She keyed in the final command. “No.”

Outside of the Tailless, the impulse engines, tailored to provide a tight energy signature to minimise the chance of detection even when not cloaked, were switched off, in favour of the overdrive jets, their nuclear engines igniting a hellfire that extended a kilometre behind the flyer, literally burning the air as it accelerated the craft.

Within the cockpit, the occupants were pressed back into their seats, feeling like the weight of worlds pressed down upon them despite the compensation from the inertial dampeners, Sasha’s hand still connected to the emergency controls on the arm of her chair as she watched them rise from subsonic speeds, to transonic, to supersonic.

And then to hypersonic.

*

In the Capitol, in the Occupied Command Centre, a Ferasan technician scanning the Southern Hemisphere of the planet peered at his screen, frowning as he rechecked his findings, before calling out, “Subpridemaster! I have an unauthorised object travelling at north by north-east at... oh shit...”

His superior drew up. “And what has impressed you so... mightily...”

His question trailed away as he saw the object on the screen, something the size of a Ferasan scout, travelling at a six thousand kilometre altitude.

At 17,280 kilometres per hour.

“Oh shit...” Louder now, he called out, “Alert the orbital patrols! We have... something... moving towards the Mnara Province!”

*

Kami clutched her infant tighter to her, swallowing, trying to ignore the scent of her aunt’s blood, her flesh and fur, on the Ferasans who had raped and killed her. “Udul-Lit-“

“What’s this?”

She looked up to see the Pridemaster reappear in her view, carrying a small transparent case with a carefully-folded maroon shirt inside. He held it up to her. “Well?”

The breath caught in her throat. No, not that, please... “It’s nothing, it’s...”

Still beside his wife, Mirow, obviously recognising it as Kami had, spoke up. “Leave that alone!”

Udul-Lit barely acknowledged him, focusing on Kami. “Well? I found it hidden in your bedroom. Are you just fastidious with your laundry?”

She swallowed. “It’s an Olfactaquary, a memento of a deceased loved one that’s kept vacuum-sealed to retain the scent on it. Preserved properly, it can trigger intense scent-memories in Caitians, even more intense than seeing or hearing recordings.”

Udul-Lit looked at it again. “Really? And who did this belong to?”

“My first husband, Mirow’s father. Please, we’re cooperating with you, there’s no reason to do anything to it-”

Udul-Lit broke the seal and took the shirt out, throwing the case aside. He made a show of sniffing at it, frowning... before wiping it over his muzzle, and then tossing it to one of his sons. “Clean yourself up, Pup, you’re covered in Matriarch.”

“You didn’t have to do that!” Mirow snapped furiously at him.

The Ferasan looked at him, nodding. “You’re right. I didn’t. But Captain and Lieutenant Hrelle are still not here, and I’m bored. Would you rather I focus on the breeding sow beside you?”

“Pridemaster,” Kami spoke up slowly, her voice taut, recapturing his attention, desperate to put aside her grief and fury at his deliberate, cruel act of destruction of one of the last vestiges of her late husband. “ I swear to you on my cubs’ lives, my husband and bond-daughter are thousands of kilometres away. They would not put us at risk by not getting here any sooner than they possibly could. There is no need to behave like this. There’s no point to it. We can all act in a civilised fashion.”

“No they can’t,” Mi’Tree muttered.

Kami stiffened, forced down her reaction. No, Papa, stay quiet, stay quiet, wait until Esek and Sasha get here...

Udul-Lit looked to him now. “Did you say something, Old Cat?”

“Ignore him, Pridemaster,” Kami urged. “He’s just upset over S’Graow-”

“I am not.” Mi’Tree bared his teeth as he glared at the Pridemaster, his voice raised and clear and coiled with anger. “As far as I’m concerned, that treacherous female got what she deserved. 

And I said that you can’t act in a civilised manner. Your kind never can. All that precious genetic manipulation you boast about, when you should have focused about augmenting your civility, your compassion, your decency.

You attacked our world. Killed thousands. You torment and threaten my family.

You murdered my beloved wife.

You’re nothing more than filthy animals.”

“Papa!” Kami snapped, making Sreen stir awake.

“Are we, now?” Udul-Lit growled, looking amused at the outburst. He tossed the bottle to one of his sons. “Such fire... from a mewling, domesticated, woman-worshipping old cat. Like all the males of this misbegotten sub-breed that infest this world!”

Mi’Tree bolted to his feet, baring his claws and teeth. “Face me, you old bastard, Male to Male, and see how domesticated I am!”

“Yeah!” Misha urged. “Get him, Grumpy!”

“Grandpa, no!” Mirow called to him from his place with Ptera.

“Papa!” Kami snapped. “This isn’t one of your action Vivids!”

Then Udul-Lit started, eyes wide as he pointed at him. “Vivids? You’re... Mi’Tree Shall! That Mi’Tree Shall! The actor!”

The declaration of recognition made the Caitian pause. “You- You’ve heard of me?”

The Ferasan smiled, looking to his males. “Seven Hells, yes! Bootleg Vivids of your work have been imported to Ferasan Prime for years now! Your Clawback series was astounding! So entertaining!”

He chuckled with delight. “My favourite was Clawback III: Die, Ferasans, Die! That climax on the Sand Crawler, the way that you fought all those nasty, horrible Ferasans who had abducted your love interest... I mean, of course they were all Caitians made up as Ferasans, but still, we loved it!” He shook his head, still smiling with the memory. “This is such an honour, Sir. Such a genuine honour.”

Then he drew his disruptor pistol and fired point blank at Mi’Tree.

The blue bolt struck the Caitian square in the chest, propelling him backwards into the nearest wall, knocking pictures from their hooks as he slumped to the floor, a smouldering, blackened burn near where his heart was.

Kami froze, unable to speak, to move. No, please, no, Papa, not you too-

“GRUMPY!” Misha leapt off the couch towards the fallen Caitian, a smouldering, blackened hole, looking to him. “Get up! GET UP!”

Kami rose to follow her son and join her fallen father... only to get struck across the head by Udul-Lit and fall back down again.

“Mama!” Mirow jumped up now, only to be attacked by two of Udul-Lit’s males, a third pointing a disruptor at Ptera to prevent her from rising as well.

Pain shot through Kami’s head once more, as Sreen began wailing in her arms. She instinctively wrapped her arms around the infant, even as she looked over at her Papa, her beloved Ppaa now cruelly cut down before their eyes... and her son, who now turned to face the Ferasans, tiny claws bared as he adopted a fighting pose and roared in fury at them.

The Pridemaster just chuckled at the response... but then growled, “Counselor... for the sake of the rest of your family... call him back to your side... AND SILENCE THAT LITTLE FREAK BEFORE I MAKE A MEAL OF IT!”

 *

In the Kaijushima’s Command Centre, Lieutenant Commander Aris Tshal, Retired, was hunched over the station beside the younger, Active Service Lieutenant Mori, reaching out to the other’s display. “You need to reroute the waveguide sequence so it isn’t traced back to this site-”

“I know what I’m doing,” Mori snapped, quickly adding, “Sir!”

Bneea stood in the background, a civilian and not technically-minded, but still intoning, “Just have it ready! Esek will be-”

The doors to the Centre parted, Hrelle striding in, clad in black Militia armour that even sheathed his tail, wearing a heavy-looking equipment vest with numerous guns and devices of various sizes and types attached to the front and back, and his Kaetini sword strapped to his side. He carried a helmet in his gloved hands, and grunted to himself as he adjusted the armour plates. “I can see why the Sabrecats prefers Stringbeans like Jhess. Are you ready?”

Tshal looked at him, momentarily taken aback by how heavily-armed Hrelle was. “Yes, Captain.” He brought up a real-time aerial view of the Shall Clanlands from the Ferasan Transporter Network, with multiple red dots at various points, in clumps of one to three, and several within the confines of the great house. “According to their logs, 47 Ferasans beamed onto the Shall Clanlands. We’re detecting eight of them inside...”

“Can we lock onto the Caitian lifesigns?”

“No, Sir – but I can’t imagine the Ferasans would have that many of their own in there if they weren’t guarding more than a few prisoners.”

Hrelle studied the layout of the house, before drawing up and pointing to an isolated area in the trees, five metres from the beach, and just off the winding path. “Can you get me here, Lieutenant?”

“I- I think so, Sir.”

Hrelle shot a look at Mori, teeth bared. “You think so?”

The younger male grew flustered. “I-I’m trying to balance our security with your safety, Sir!”

“Esek,” Bneea breathed.

Hrelle waved his bond-father’s admonishment away, but kept his emotions in better control when he next spoke. “Lieutenant, my safety is not a priority. Our security here is. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What about the Tailless?”

Mori brought up another screen, showing an object moving across the Sea of Denara towards the Shall Clanlands on the edge of Mnara. “At her current speed, she’ll be there in twelve minutes... but there are Ferasan orbital patrol ships moving to intercept. Should we warn them?”

“Sasha will already know – inform her that I’m being beamed there to mop up ahead of her, but her priority is to collect the family and get the fuck out there. I’ll get out on my own steam.” He looked to Tshal. “Make sure she understands that.”

Tshal nodded. “Be careful, Captain.”

Hrelle nodded back, fitting the armoured helmet over his head. “Let’s go.”

*

Kaetini Temple, Mrelle Province:

Nvell slipped an arm around Hap-Tek’s as she led him down to the Lower Gallery, talking incessantly along the way. “...And then Shenali wanted to watch another episode of Fat Cat and Little Kitten, but it was late and everyone knows that when she gets too excited before she goes to bed she’ll have an accident, but then Shenali didn’t want to go to bed at all because she said there were spiders underneath waiting to eat her, but I told her that spiders don’t eat people, they just crawl into your mouth when you sleep and lay eggs, and then she started crying, and why would she do that-”

Hap-Tek shook her hold off him. “Father’s Soul, will you just shut up before I rip the tongue from your mouth, you ancient hag?” He stopped and stared ahead into a tunnel of blackness. He smelled ancient paper and mildew, felt a warm, wet draft of air on his muzzle and heard the snake of air further down. But... there was no light, which wasn’t usually the case with Ferasan night vision. “Is this it? Where are the lights?”

Nvell pointed ahead. “On the other side, Sonny. I’ll go switch them on for you, I don’t want you tripping...”

The old Mistress stepped forward, but then the Ferasan grabbed her, drawing her back. “No, you walking skeleton, you stay close.” He glanced at Professor C’Moran, who remained at his side via the rope he led her around with. “You, Pet – what can we expect to find down here?”

She blinked, appearing to struggle as much as he did to see into the darkness. “I- I don’t know! I’ve never been here, I’m only a University historian-”

He tugged at the rope. “You’re about as useful as my nipples.” He signalled the four males who had accompanied him to move ahead, adopting a firing line, disruptor rifles raised ahead of them as they moved forward.

Nvell chuckled, pointing ahead. “Ahh, there it is!”

Hap-Tek peered ahead, eyes widening. “What? What am I meant to see, you pissy old bitch?”

She turned to him, eyes squeezed shut, murmuring, “Your comeuppance, dickhead.”

A nova-bright flash suffused them. The pain shot into Hap-Tek’s skull, and he released his hold on the females to cover his eyes with his paws, before jumping at the din of his males’ disruptors going off... and then their cries of pain as someone attacked them.

Hap-Tek blindly attempted to turn and escape, but found himself under attack as well, with punches and kicks and the staff of the old female.

*

Shall Clanlands, Mnara Province:

Hrelle dropped into a crouch as soon as he materialised within a tight clump of trees, the exographic sensors in his helmet’s visor augmenting his senses and compensating for the darkness of twilight, as he took in the immediate area, spotting Ferasans seemingly reacting to his presence, before resuming their watch.

He turned towards the main house, just past the Memorial Gardens, though the sensors were less clear: a clump of bodies in the living room, surrounded by Ferasans. Good: when the shit inevitably hit the fan, they would all be together.

He checked his chroniker: Sasha was due in nine minutes. He reached up over his shoulder, to the handle of one weapon on his back, releasing its harness catch and drawing it out into his gloved paws – a projectile launcher – and made his way through the trees. 

His memory of the layout of the gardens served him well as he made his way to the back of the house, finding a good firing point, and raising the launcher in the direction of the second floor, near the balcony of one of the spare bedrooms, aiming, listening for nearby Ferasans, ready for their reaction when he fired.

The launcher only made a slight ffit; the projectile made more noise when it embedded its claws into the stone wall. He glanced around, seeing some Ferasans stop, but then resume talking, or moving, or drinking or pissing.

He aimed the launcher at another point on the West Wing of the house, firing again, embedding another object, acknowledging that as he continued, suspicion would inevitably be raised, but he couldn’t stop now, he had to have a wide enough spread.

By the time he reached another firing point, and launched two more objects near the front of the house, Ferasans began reacting more openly, calling to each other. Eight minutes. They weren’t on full alert, not yet, but no doubt-

Behind him, a Ferasan called out, “Who’s that?”

Hrelle activated the control on his wristband, and the four Scatterpods he had secured around the main house activated their scrambling fields, disrupting any Ferasan communications, transporter beams, sensors-

A Ferasan appeared from nowhere, raised his disruptor rifle, aimed at Hrelle’s head and squeezed the trigger...

With no effect.

And energy weapons, Hrelle concluded to himself, knowing none of his own weapons would be affected, as he threw the emptied projectile launcher at the Ferasan, distracting him enough for Hrelle to draw his Kaetini sword and swing out, taking the other male’s head clean off.

The head and body fell in separate directions onto the grass, the latter spurting blood onto the grass, while Hrelle moved as quickly as he could in such restrictive, heavy gear, over to a short set of steps onto the rear balcony, setting down his sword to retrieve another weapon from his pack: a silenced TR-120 rifle, the exographic sensor in his helmet automatically aligning with the gun’s own sights, letting him see a dozen Ferasans approach cautiously from the beach through the trees. Seven minutes.

He aimed and began firing in rapid succession, the caseless rounds propelled from a sound-baffled chamber, their fragmentary tips opening up the skulls and chests of the Ferasans that they struck, the other Ferasans unsure of what was going on, but their alarm as they gradually realised that their weapons, transporters and communicators weren’t working, rising.

Hrelle turned in another direction as he heard more Ferasans coming from the roadside, and began firing again, his silent assault bringing down more, more-

Until he ran out of bullets.

He moved to head for the back door, as Ferasans raced up out of the darkness and leapt onto the balcony, having discarded their disruptors in favour of their teeth and claws.

Hrelle grabbed his sword once more and began swinging out, taking off heads and limbs. He had to thin the herd out here before he could deal with those inside threatening his family.

More Ferasans came at him from behind, piling on top of him, pinning him down. Six minutes.

*

Inside, Udul-Lit returned to his feet. “Well, time for someone else to die-”

Just as Mi’Tree gasped, his body spasming and his limbs contorting.

“PAPA!” Kami leapt up, pressing Sreen against her as she joined Misha at her father’s side, checking his lifesigns. “He’s alive- he’s- how-”

From the couch, Ptera looked up, eyes wide, gripping her husband. “The wound- is it centred on his parasternum bone? That’s where his cardiac regulator was placed last year!”

Kami checked, peeling aside the charred fabrics of Mi’Tree’s shirt, her heart racing with hope. “Yes! It must have taken the brunt of the disruptor bolt!” She looked up at Udul-Lit. “He needs medical attention!”

The Ferasan smirked. “Yes, I’m, sure he does. Sit down again.”

She bared her teeth, her nerves fraying ever more. “Please! There’s no need for any of this! Let us save him! You can do whatever you want to me!”

Udul-Lit looked to her... and smiled. “Counselor... I can do whatever I want to you already. You have no agency here. None of you. Caitians are weak, inferior. You are all Sheep to us. Sheep!”

The window at the far end of the room, the overlooking the veranda and front gardens, shattered, as a bullet-ridden, blade-cut Ferasan body meteored in.

*

“We have incoming Ferasan vessels!” Nenjo called, over the protests of a ship being pushed to its absolute limits. “Missiles launched!”

Sasha was already on it, launching decoys and chaff as she banked sharply to starboard, passing over the Strait of Greve. “Decelerating... on my mark, prepare to lock onto all Caitians and beam them onboard, we may only get one chance at this.”

“The computer can’t handle multiple simultaneous transports, you’ll blow the system-“

“I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL KILL YOU IF YOU KEEP FUCKING ARGUING WITH ME!” Sasha screamed, eyes fixed on her screens, as she launched a volley of microtorpedoes... even as the sensors picked up Jem’Hadar fighters sweeping down to join the fight. With the deceleration and the power diverted to the sensors and transporters, they were going to be very, very vulnerable in a minutes’ time...

*

In the bowels of the Kaetini Temple, Hap-Tek, First Son of the Master Governor of the Occupied World of Cait, was getting his furry ass kicked.

To his credit, such as it was, he did his best, despite his blindness, despite hearing and smelling his best males being killed around him. He was a Ferasan, after all, physically and genetically superior to all of these effete, decadent whores-

He screamed as another foot connected with his balls, and dropped into a foetal position, barely able to show any resistance as he felt metal cuffs fix his wrists behind him, and then another set secure his ankles, leaving him on a dry stone floor, unable to do anything but push down the pain, let his vision return.

And listen to the exchange between Mistress Nvell and several others. “Load the bodies onto their transport, then program it to crash into the Sea of Rhun.”

Hap-Tek kept blinking, willing his vision to restore itself. In ragged, pained gasps, he called out, “You! Release me at once, you old bitch, and I’ll spare your life!”

Now he could see a collection of Caitians, many carrying swords or confiscated Ferasan disruptors... with Nvell and Professor C’Moran at the forefront, looking over at him, before approaching, the Kaetini Mistress showing no infirmity, no senility, wielding the staff nimbly in one paw. “Oh, Sonny, you’re so generous to your poor old Granny.”

Then, with lightning speed, she swung her staff up in an arc and struck his left ankle, cracking the bone beneath and making him scream out until he bit his tongue.

Nvell crouched down beside him, regarding him. “Have no illusions: you won’t live to see another Ferasan. You won’t live the rest of your life without pain. But you will tell us everything we want to know about your father, your people, your operations on the Motherworld...

And since you’ve quickly built up a... relationship... with Professor C’Moran – a very courageous member of the Kaetini Order, who volunteered to make contact with you, and lead you exactly where we wanted you to go – she really, really wants to conduct your interrogation.”

Hap-Tek forced down his fear to glance at the other female – now minus the rope leash he had put her on, crouching and glaring down at him. “Hello, ‘Pet’.”

Hap-Tek spat on her. “Fuck you! I’ll never talk!”

C’Moran wiped the spittle from her muzzle insouciantly and continue to regard him. “You say that now. But you know, I bet after I insert a metal rod into your urethra and heat it up... you’ll be singing.”

*

Hrelle let the Ferasans dog-pile on him. Get ready for this, you filthy kussiks...

He activated his armour’s defences, as a lethal neuroleptic pulse charged his armour, his helmet’s filters baffling the screams of his attackers as they collapsed around him, the pulse carried through over a dozen of them. He rose among the bodies, picking up his sword and swiping away at those who hadn’t been killed by the pulse, before reaching the veranda.

On the front path, a group of about twenty or more Ferasans had swarmed together, launching themselves like a wave at him, roaring at the top of their lungs.

He dropped his sword and reached up behind him for the next weapon from his backpack, bracing himself as he gripped it with both paws and-

A wide tongue of flame shot out from the nozzle, snaking forth and engulfing the Ferasans at the front of the swarm, igniting fur and fire and leather armour, the shock of the intense assault killing them almost instantly.

They were the lucky ones.

They fell, the others toppling over them or each other in their efforts to evade the inferno Hrelle offered them, their screams almost drowned out by the roar of the flames. Mercilessly he swept the flame across them in a wide arc, ignoring the collateral damage of the surrounding foliage. The grounds were lit up in orange-red, with silhouettes scrambling in vain to escape imminent death.

Then he was tackled from behind, losing his grip on the flamethrower and letting it drop as he twisted around, tumbling down the steps onto the front path as two Ferasans tackled him, unable to claw or bite, but trying to remove his helmet to finish him off.

He let them try, let him focus on his head, as he reached for the pistol in his hip holster, not even taking it out of the holster to twist and fire upwards, the bullets from the .666 Magnum punching a hole through the guts of the nearest Ferasan, producing a fountain of blood and guts through his back.

*

He aimed his disruptor at Kami’s head, tried firing-

And failed.

Kami leapt at him, claws bared, tackling him, knocking the apparently-useless weapon from his grasp, as she went for his throat, even as she called out, “Mirow! Get Ptera and the cubs-”

Udul-Lit drove his knee into her stomach, smacking her away.

“MAMA!” Misha leapt up, climbing onto the Ferasan, his tiny claws at his remaining eye.

Udul-Lit broke his arm in response and threw the screaming cub aside.

*

Hrelle rose, removing his helmet as the alarm went off inside, and deactivated the Scatterpods, activating his communicator, even as he heard the roar of the Tailless on its approach overhead. “Sasha! Beam us-“

He turned as three more Ferasans appeared, having abandoned their disruptors, not realising that they would function again for them. He ducked, retrieving his sword once more, just as they slammed into him, roaring. Pain shot through Hrelle, even as he heard the screams of his family from inside.

*

“Hurry!” Sasha cried out, trying to keep track of the remaining Ferasan and Jem’Hadar ships, rapidly descending from nearly every direction.

“I have five locks!”

“ENERGIZE!”

Distantly, she heard the whine of the Tailless’ transporter systems, protesting the Herculean task presented to them. Only five... Mother’s Cubs, who hadn’t they saved?

She heard Kami emit a terrible cry, and risked looking away from her controls to glance behind her, at the open pad between the cockpit and the midsection, and the collection of figures: Kami, Mirow, Ptera, a wounded Misha and Mi’Tree-

But it was Kami who caught her attention, with a horrified scream, “SREEN!”

*

“DAD! SREEN! WE MISSED SREEN!”

Hrelle was pinned down by one heavy older Ferasan male, but on hearing that from Sasha, roared and drove his elbow into the male’s muzzle, shattering it and driving shards of bones into the Ferasan’s brain.

Hrelle was tossing the body aside as he retrieved his sword and rose up, climbing over the burning, bloodied bodies as he raced inside.

*

In the Capitol’s Operations Centre, Melem-Adu watched the convergence of his vessels upon what was obviously the target area: the Shall Clanlands. “Any word yet from Udul-Lit?”

“No, Master Governor; there is some sort of disruption in the local area, no communications or transporters.”

“Will you give the Thousand Scars more time?”

He turned to Welros, the Vorta who had asked him the question. “No. It is obvious that Udul-Lit has overestimated his competence to complete the task at hand. Our Security must take precedence.” He turned back. “Order the attack ships to bomb the house. Leave nothing alive.”

As the orders were transmitted, he grunted to himself. So much for your vaunted reputation, you fucking peasants...

*

Kami was holding onto a screaming Misha in one arm, and a bulkhead grip in the other, but was calling out, “Sasha! Get us back there! Sreen, Esek need us!”

“We can’t!” Nenjo argued. “There’s a dozen ships all around us, and more coming!”

Sasha banked and dove until they were mere metres over the Bay of Greve, letting the ship’s automated defence systems do what they could. “Everyone hold on!” She opened a channel again. “Dad! We’re coming for you both!”

*

Hrelle followed the screams of his baby girl into the Clanhouse, but responded to Sasha’s message. “NO! Get out of here! I’ll get Sreen!”

“No, Dad! We can do it!”

The roar of enemy fighters outside made the very walls shake. “Go! Get the others back to base! I’ll save her! GO!”

*

In the Tailless, Sasha stared ahead, her body taut as a wire.

Then she entered new commands, even as disruptor blasts outside sent geysers of boiling seawater erupting around them. “Activating Prowl, going into Stealth Mode and taking an evasive course back to Kaijushima.”

“SASHA!” Kami snapped.

She turned to face her, wishing she could tell her just about anything else than what she had to do.... but it still came out far more easily than she had expected. “If we go back for them, we’ll be blown to pieces. Dad will get Sreen and himself out. If anyone can do it, he can.”

Kami stared back in naked disbelief.

But didn’t argue further, knowing the truth of it, for which Sasha was grateful.

Goddammit, Dad, prove me right...

*

“No, Captain.”

Hrelle stopped at the foot of the Grand Staircase, where a one-eyed, one-sabretoothed, grey-furred Ferasan stood... holding a screaming Sreen by her ankles over the banister. “No, you won’t save this little grotesque!”

Hrelle dropped his sword, holding up his paws. “No! Please, don’t hurt her! I beg of you-”

“YOU BEG?” the Ferasan bellowed over the thunder of the aircraft outside. “You butchered my Pride, my sons, my brothers, my cousins and nephews, valiant warriors all, and you expect mercy now?

No! I just wanted you here in time to watch me tear her limb from-”

*

The rest of his threat was lost, as the Ferasan and Jem’Hadar attack ships swept down in an impromptu formation, disruptor bolts striking the Shall Clanhouse.

And destroying it utterly...

 

TO BE CONTINUED IN... LONE CAT AND CUB