Chapter 6: Lone Cat and Cub

Shall Clanlands, Mnara Province, Planet Cait - One Minute Ago:

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...

*

Now:

Udul-Lit lost his hold on Sreen as the wall blew out behind him.

She dropped.

Hrelle raced to her, even as he felt the overpressure of the disruptor bolts from the attack outside sending the walls and ceiling down upon them. Get this right, Esek, get this right-

He caught his daughter in both hands, dropping and shielding her with his armoured body as he rolled under the reinforced space beneath the grand staircase, his ears pounding as the house came down around them, enveloping them in dust and debris. He pressed his precious, fragile cub against him, daring the Universe to drop a whole mountain on him if it wanted. It wouldn’t matter.

He would protect her, no matter what.

*

In the Tailless, Sasha finished programming the circuitous route back to the Island, hoping that between it and the Prowl cloak, they wouldn’t be detected or pursued, then unbuckled herself from the seat, glancing at Nenjo. “Keep your nose peeled.”

The Mother’s Claws Agent nodded, never looking way from the co-pilot’s station, as Sasha rose and approached. “What happened to Grandpa?”

Ptera was kneeling beside the elderly male, struggling to stay balanced on one knee with her pregnant belly, even with her husband Mirow physically supporting her. “A disruptor blast to the chest struck Mi’Tree’s cardiac regulator, and it took the brunt of the energy, but sent him into shock.” She looked over at Misha, who sat in her mother’s lap, whimpering. “How is he, Mama Kam?”

Kami was holding him carefully. “I think his left ulna’s cracked.”

Sasha nodded. “Take him into my cabin, I have a first aid kit under the bed – the red box, ignore the blue box, definitely don’t open the blue box, nothing there for cubs to see – while we take care of Grandpa here. Mirow, lift him up under his arms, I’ll take his legs, carry him to the back and put him on the table in there.”

“He’ll need more than a first aid kit,” Ptera pointed out.

Raising her voice, Sasha ordered, “Computer: Activate Holographic Hospital Mode.” She moved to Mi’Tree’s ankles, adjusting her stance to get a good hold. “The Aft Section is a basic holosuite, it can be a medibay, workshop, lab, other things. Never had a chance to use it until now, but it’ll hopefully produce whatever you need.”

“When will we get to the Island?” Mirow asked, lifting up Mi’Tree at his end.

Sasha grunted; Damn, Grandpa, you gotta lose some weight... “Safely? Four hours.”

“What about Esek and Sreen?” Kami asked, holding her son in her arms, her gaze on Sasha unwavering.

“They’ll survive. And we have Emergency communication plans in place.” She motioned for Mirow to get moving before the question was pressed again.

*

Hrelle’s ears continued to ring, but he felt Sreen mewl against his muzzle. He kept still, feeling the weight of debris still on top of him, and sniffed carefully, ignoring the dust and smoke to focus on his daughter, making sure he didn’t smell any of her blood.

Then he shifted, twisting around to continue protecting the infant as he pushed aside beams and bits of wall-

Sreen hissed, as a broken, clawed paw with a Ferasan scent shot out, attempting to grasp his throat.

Hrelle staggered back, trying to evade the Pridemaster, who was bloodied, battered, but still alive, snarling, “K-K-Killllll you-”

He reached for Sreen now.

Hrelle roared, caught the Ferasan’s forearm and twisted it away, snapping it, before Hrelle delivered a powerhouse kick to his opponent’s midsection, sending him backwards over debris... and impaling him rudely on a narrow, twisted pipe, the metal sticking out of the Ferasan’s gut as the body spasmed, already dead but still seemingly arguing about it...

Then Hrelle heard the whine of approaching aircraft in the blackened evening sky, maybe on another strafing run, maybe now scanning for survivors.

Either way, they had to leave, now.

Around them, the ruins of the Shall Clanhouse smouldered and burned, the history and possessions of generations lost. But that didn’t matter now.

Along the way out he saw and grasped the hilt of his Kaetini sword, sticking out of the rubble, and dropped down onto the rear path, ignoring the many, many bodies, some still burning from his earlier assault, racing through what was left of the trees as he made his way to the beach, and the Clan docks. Overhead, aircraft were slowing down, hovering, scanning, and he hoped the cover and his armour’s defences were helping to scatter his readings, if not Sreen’s.

She was so quiet. Please be okay, Princess. Please, please be okay.

Black waters lapped intimately at white sands, and his boots pounded on wooden slats as he bypassed the yacht for the powerboat: a black, spearhead-shaped vessel with an armoured shell topping it. He hopped into it, taking a moment to adjust once more to the undulant floor beneath his boots, before settling Sreen down into a nestled area of pillows, undressing her and checking her for any injuries, before quickly and quietly untethering the boat and activating the onboard systems. He had been onboard once before, when they first arrived before the Occupation, and had even taken her out with Misha for a trip around the Bay.

This was one of Ma’Sala’s vessels. He knew what it was capable of.

Then he went back and brought Sreen up front, finding a bright orange smart floatation scarf, activating it and letting it wrap around her while self-inflating, before securing her into the seat beside him, his voice aiming to be as soft and reassuring as he could be... under the circumstances. “Alright, my Warrior Princess, we’re going on a little sea trip. It’ll be fast, it’ll be furious... and, I won’t lie, it’ll be more a little bit risky. But I promise you, we will get back to your Mama and Sasha and Misha and everyone else before you know it. Okay?”

Sreen looked up at him... before reaching out with her stubby paw... and smacking his snout. “Papa! Now!”

He smiled, bent down and rubbed the side of his muzzle against hers. “Quite right. Enough speechifying.” He returned to his seat, checking the sensors, watching the Ferasan and Jem’Hadar ships circling overhead. He observed the patterns, waiting for when they were the farthest away, before starting up the engines and guiding the boat away from the dock, closing up the canopy entirely to minimise their energy signature, hoping that the enemy would focus on some air- or land-based escape.

The night sensors in the cockpit opened up an artificial vista ahead of him, of the Bay, as he planned where to go next.

The options were limited: he couldn’t take them across the Sea of Denara straight to the Island, it was too far away, and he wouldn’t risk drawing attention to it, and heading back into the Gulf to one of the northern coastal towns was only slightly less insane. He ran some navigational calculations. “Hmmm... Princess, how would you like to visit the Port of Sekuro?”

Sreen looked to him, making expectant noises.

He continued. “It’s a major fishing port on the Southern tip of the Mnara Province, for the Free Fishing Fleet. We can blend in there, make surreptitious contact with the others, arrange for a pickup from Sasha, or the Skycats, or even take the maglev from there.” He reached out and booped her snout. “Shall we go?”

Sreen made a cheery sound, holding out her stubby paws. “Gabadoo! Gabadee!”

He smiled back. “Quite right.”

*

Capitol Building, First City, M’Mirl Province:

Melem-Adu, Master Governor of Cait, stood wrapped in the burgundy silk sheet he had taken with him when he had been summoned from his bedchambers, rather than dress again. It was the middle of the night, it had been a long, long day, ending in the satisfying sight of the Shall Clandland house being blown to pieces. Yes, some of them had apparently escaped in a flyer, but he could always blame the failure on that loathsome peon Udul-Lit and his tail-chasing Thousand Scars Pride. Melem-Adu had been happy to retire to his bed with a couple of Caitian females and some vodka.

But now he stood once more in the Command Centre, the floor cold beneath his bare feet... “ThirdSon, you had best make the reason for interrupting my sleep phenomenally good.”

ThirdSon was young, skinny, ash-furred and still too inexperienced to have earned himself a name, and he stank of anxiousness as he stood there. “Father, we- we-”

“What is that?” Melem-Adu pointed up at one of the screens before him: a night-filtered image dominated by a sole figure moving quickly around, cutting a swathe through dozens of others with a bladed weapon. At first he expected it to be one of his own people, dealing with some insurrection somewhere on this misbegotten world... and then he understood.

He stabbed again at the screen. “That’s at the Shall property tonight, isn’t it?”

“Father, I didn’t call you here-”

“ANSWER ME!”

ThirdSon flinched. “Y-Yes, Father, it’s the Shall Clanlands, from earlier this evening. We were studying the sensor recordings made by our ships in order to glean some intelligence- but with respect, that wasn’t-”

Melem-Adu waved off his son’s words and stepped forward, watching the scene unfold, remembering the general events but not seeming them so clearly and distinctly until now. It was one figure, one Caitian, attacking all those Ferasans. Not some unit, some squadron of Caitian Militia.

One Caitian.

And that one Caitian was... not falling.

His mouth went dry as he watched this lone Caitian face a swarm of Ferasans, the Thousand Scars Pride, racing up to him... before a geyser of fire shot forth from the Caitian, engulfing the attacking Ferasans, sending them scrambling and falling and dying, with those who tried to escape being chased by the Caitian’s merciless fire.

“Great Father...” he murmured. Louder now, he demanded, “That’s Hrelle, is it not?”

“We- We don’t think so, Father. Based on communications we intercepted and decrypted, we believe the one on the ground was Captain Hrelle, and his human daughter, the so-called Tailless Cub, was in the flyer.”

The older male lowered his arm, watching as the image of Hrelle entered his residence. “Why is he not escaping?”

“The, ah, transmissions, and our intelligence, suggest a Caitian had been left behind in the house: Sreen Hrelle, one of Captain Hrelle’s other cubs. An infant... and apparently physically disabled.”

Melem-Adu looked to his own cub in disbelief. “He would risk his freedom, his life, for some malformed freak that should have been dashed to the rocks at birth?” He shook his head, watching as the house erupted under disruptor fire from above, collapsing in on itself... and then he checked the timecodes. “The flyer...”

“Yes, Father, we- we lost track of it on the way to Hsova- We have ships running search patterns”

“Shut up, whelp!” He pointed at the screen again, seeing a figure emerge and head out. “Look! Hrelle survived! He’s on his own, making his escape, independently!”

“Y-Yes, Father, we believe there was a boat involved, but the flyer seemed to be a higher priority-”

“It’s not! Divert all forces to track him and his little mutant down! And I want an All Media Bulletin sent out! Offer a thousand bars of gold-pressed latinum to any Caitian with information on their whereabouts! Where’s Hap-Tek? He should be back from the Kaetini Temple by now! I want him on this!”

ThirdSon stared fearfully at him. “That’s... That’s why I called for you, Father, not about Captain Hrelle. Hap-Tek’s cruiser... it’s unresponsive to our transmissions...”

Melem-Adu bristled. “What?”

“We- We lost track of it, over the Sea of Rhun, twenty minutes ago. We are continuing to try and contact them-”

The Pridemaster strode up and grasped his youngest son by the leather padding on his uniform. “It will be the Caitians’ doing! Find my beloved son! I want all available vessels on the search!”

“Is there a problem, Master Governor?”

He turned, knowing the voice, if not expecting it at this time of night. Could he get through a day without hearing that simpering tone? “Vorta! I- I am surprised to find you here and now.”

Welros, the Dominion’s representative to the Ferasan Occupation, was dressed as blandly as ever in his usual attire, and, as always, flanked by two Jem’Hadar bodyguards. The beige-coloured humanoid held out his spindly arms in a generous gesture. “I am at your service night and day. May one ask what has occurred?”

Melem-Adu grunted. You should know, you probably secretly monitor our activities, don’t you, you water-willed wisp? “My son Hap-Tek was returning to us after investigating the Kaetini Temple, when we lost contact with his cruiser. I am organising a search party now.”

Welros made a simpering, sympathetic expression. “Well, I certainly hope it all turns out for the best for you, Master Governor... having already lost one son since starting this ambitious enterprise. May we offer our assistance in any way?”

The Ferasan almost refused the offer, out of fear of it being a sign of weakness to the Dominion... and out of anger, for Welros reminding him of his having to kill his other son because of his failures only days before.

On the other paw, they did possess superior sensors and weapons. “Yes, Vorta, as a matter of fact, you may be of some small assistance. The Starfleet Captain, Hrelle, made his way alone from the Shall Clanlands with his infant daughter by boat, while the other terrorists escaped by flyer. While we would certainly be more than capable of searching for him, I am certainly willing to bring our allies in on this facet of the operations.”

Welros smiled. “Well, we are not technically allies as yet, but I am certain our Jem’Hadar forces would welcome the diversion of a Hunt.” His grin widened. “They certainly couldn’t do a poorer job of it that your forces have so far, eh?” He chuckled.

Melem-Adu bared his teeth, in the approximation of a humanoid grin. I will eat you alive before this is over, you bland, lipless wonder. I will consume every anaemic part of you... but your face. That, I will leave intact while I shit out your remains upon it... “Thank you, Vorta. One of my subordinates will supply the relevant data.” He glanced at one of the Jem’Hadar flanking Welros; they may have been taciturn, drug-addicted clone drones, but at least they didn’t make Melem-Adu want to rip their throats out.

*

Kaijushima Island:

The occupants of the Tailless stepped out of the turbolift onto the sublevel containing the Medical Centre, Sasha and Mirow manipulating an antigrav gurney carrying Mi’Tree, closely followed by Kami, cradling Misha, his arm wrapped in a stasis bar to help complete the healing she began during the flight, and a pregnant Ptera, Mirow’s wife, bringing up the rear.

A middle-aged, ginger-furred female Caitian in a medical smock came out of the Centre in response to the commotion. “What the Seven Hells is this?”

“86-year-old male,” Ptera called ahead. “History of cardiac trouble, peripheral disruptor damage to his parasternum! The cub needs further protoplaser treatment for a broken arm!”

The female turned and rushed inside ahead of the new arrivals towards an unoccupied biobed, pointing to it. “Get the fat old cat up on here!”

“Are you a doctor?” Sasha demanded, working with Mirow to transfer their grandfather onto the biobed, the readings overhead coming to life with his presence.

“Well, I’m not a pole dancer, Monkey Girl.” She drew an equipment table closer.

Sasha stepped in front of her... one hand on the handle of the blaster on her hip. “Identify yourself. Now.”

The female remained unintimidated. “Doctor T’Ana, CMO, USS Cerritos. That enough identity for you, Kong?” She walked around Sasha to set a dermal regenerator on Mi’Tree’s chest and activate it, waving a paw in the direction of the far end of the room. “Put the cub over there, that skinny spotted Sabrecat that’s running around here said he was a paediatrician, he can deal with him.”

“Jhess has recovered?” Kami asked, taking Misha to the nearest bed.

Before anyone can answer, a noise of pain from Ptera turned heads, and Mirow rushed to his wife’s side. “What’s wrong?”

She tried to shake off his touch, but she couldn’t hide the grimace of pain. “It’s nothing- I can help Misha-”

“Get on the next biobed,” Sasha ordered, ensuring Mirow helped his wife up. “You’ve done enough, now let’s get you and your cub checked out.” Sasha read the biobed readings over Ptera. “Lowered surface temperature, rapid pulse, heightened adrenaline...think it’s just the comedown from shock.”

T’Ana joined them, shooing Sasha aside and looking up as well. “You’re right; nice diagnosis, get yourself a banana.”

“Enough of the ape references, Doc, I’ve heard them all before.”

“Okay, okay, don’t fling your filth at me.” She prepared a hypospray, looking at the pregnant female. “5 cc’s of improvoline should settle you down, Little Mother, without harming the cub.”

Ptera nodded silently in agreement, clutching Mirow’s paw tightly as she accepted the shot.

Sasha nodded to her bond-brother and sister and returned to Mi’Tree, giving his paw a squeeze. “Get back on your feet soon, Grandpa; you’re not done thrilling cubs with your tales just yet.” Then she moved to Kami and Misha. “I’ll go look for Jhess and Grandpa Bneea, and then get started on the search for Dad and Sreen.” She bent down and rubbed the side of her face against Misha’s muzzle, whispering, “You keep an eye on Mama, okay, Little Brother?”

The cub, partly sedated from Sasha’s first aid kit on the Tailless, nodded silently.

Just then, Jhess and Bneea entered, the former moving to Misha, the latter hugging Kami before seeing Mi’Tree. “No...”

Kami rested a paw on his arm reassuringly before letting him continue to his husband. “He’ll recover...”

Sasha looked around her once more, seeking Agent Nenjo in order to coordinate the search for Dad and Sreen.

But Nenjo hadn’t accompanied them down here.

*

In another section of the facility, Lieutenant Commander Aris Tshal, former Second Engineer on the USS Calpurnia, and resurfaced from retirement following the Ferasan Occupation, was engaged in instructing other retired and active service Starfleet personnel in the operations, when Nenjo entered. “Lieutenant Commander...”

Tshal straightened up, his assistant Lt Mori rising from his seat as she approached. “Well? Did you make it to the house in time? We’ve been monitoring Ferasan transmissions-”

She straightened up, the sable-furred female looking at each of them in turn. “We’re back, with injuries among the civilians. And without Captain Hrelle or his infant daughter. Their capture... and eventual execution... is almost certain.”

The males looked aghast at the news, Tshal sputtering, “We- We have to do something-”

“We will: we’ll continue to monitor the Ferasan communications, and continue without the Captain, as he would have wanted it.” Nenjo straightened up. “I’m assuming command of the Resistance efforts on Cait, with immediate effect.”

*

Port of Sekuro, Southern Mnara Province:

It was later in the evening when Hrelle had seen the lights of the city, and began slowing down; the powerboat was far faster than he could have expected, its hull coated in a near-frictionless substance that cut down on resistance to an incredible minimum, practically lifting them up off the surface of the water. This, and the powerful engines, had served them well.

But as they drew closer, and more air vehicles began appearing on his scanners, he knew they had to get to ground, and soon. He bypassed the quays, where the larger fishing ships of the Free Fleet and the pleasure cruisers were berthed, and headed straight for the adjacent beach.

Beside him, Sreen had awakened, mewling with hunger. Hrelle had already checked for suitable onboard food, finding only water and biscuits; he had packed what he could, shucking off some of his armour and saving the more flexible pieces to make a protective cub harness. “I know, Princess, but we have to get settled and maybe get more appropriate grub for you.” He purred against her. “I’ll take care of you.”

As they drew up to the beach, Hrelle took the helm once more, ignoring the Shallow Level alerts as he speeded up, letting the powerboat slide up out of the water and onto the thin, pebbled, empty beach. Sreen made a noise as they came to a bumpy, noisy halt.

Hrelle moved quickly; the radio traffic on Jem’Hadar channels in the area had increased. He secured Sreen in her harness to his chest, picked up a shoulder bag full of provisions... and strapped his sword beneath it, before venturing outside into the dark.

The beach was empty at that time of night, the miniscule waves lapping at the wet sands behind him, and birds circled overhead, scavenging for food dropped by locals during the day, or washed up from high tide. Hrelle’s boots crunched the sand and pebbles beneath them as he raced up to the quay that separated the beach from the rest of the city, dipping under the thick wooden planks as Jem’Hadar ships flew overhead once more, lower this time, the thunder of the engines drowning out Sreen’s protesting roars.

He grunted. They definitely tracked them here.

He headed under the pier and found access into the narrow, winding alleys separating the buildings of Sekuro. It was late, but it was still lively, with many bars, clubs, taverns and other facilities open, mostly for the sailors and fisherfolk in, enjoying themselves before another hard run out on the Free Seas the next morning, collecting schools of sleekfish, kydrae, scybdils and guthiks.

The scents, sights and sounds took him back, far back, to his childhood on the other side of Cait, in the Northern Province of R’Trerah, working on his Papa’s boat. It was much colder, of course, more sparsely populated... but many of the same scents he detected now still lured him back into the depths of his memory.

So long ago. So very long ago.

He found a small grocery store to purchase a few essentials for Sreen, paying with anonymous credits from a card with a false identity, before asking for directions to nearby accommodations.

These led him to a dark tavern of wooden and chequered-tile floors, brass fittings and high smoky ornate plastered ceilings, where males and females filled the spaces near partitioned booths or lined the brass and wooden bar, while unseen towards the rear, two males belted out a ballad on the frettercast and skiffer. The air was filled with the scents of alcohol, cigars and fried foods.

The place went almost silent as he entered with Sreen.

Then the din returned as he ignored them and approached the bar, catching the attention of one of the Barkeeps, a scrawny, bistre-furred male smelling of sweat and stains and unwashed clothes, who frowned at Sreen... in particular, the metallic strands of her exoframe. “You in the right place, mate?”

Hrelle let a protective paw curl around his daughter’s head. “I am if you’ve got a room for the night for us.”

The Barkeep looked up at him now. “We’re not a crèche, Old Cat.”

“Don’t need you to be, Bubulah. They’ll have our autocar fixed in the morning, and then we can get home to Hsova, and this little Howler’s mother can clout me properly for not getting the vehicle maintained more thoroughly beforehand.” He handed over the card. “Whatever the price, add twenty percent on it for your troubles.”

The other male accepted it, smiling brightly at Hrelle’s offer, as he quickly ran the card through his reader before Hrelle potentially changed his mind. “Anything you say, and welcome to the Admiral Benbow Inn, Mister...” He paused to check the identity on the reader. “Hattori Hanzō. I’m Syras, Marner Syras! Anything you or your darling little cub need during your stay, just ask! Hospitality is our byword at the Benbow!” He grabbed a card key from a nearby shelf and rushed around from behind the bar. “Here, follow me!” He reached for Hrelle’s bag. “Shall I take this for you?”

Hrelle tightened his hold on the bag. “No thanks, just lead the way, so I can settle the Little Howler down. It’s been a long day.”

Syras was a chatterbox as he led them up a narrow, steep stairs that eventually opened up to view the bar below. “How about all this Ferasan business, eh? Not seen many of them around here, don’t know what they would want with us anyway, not this far away from all the high-born cats up north in M’Mirl and Mrestir. No, things move at their own pace here in Sekuro. Lived here all my life, wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He led them further to the back of the building, which was quieter, and a room in the rear, into which he escorted them, his tail swishing enthusiastically. “Here we go, the best room in the house!”

Hrelle glanced around: it was small, basic at best, with a tiny window that led to nowhere, and Hrelle could well believe that this was their best... but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Thank you, it’ll be fine.”

Syras set the keycard down on the small round wooden table. “Would you like some grub? Maybe a basket of battered kydra rings? Some beer? We have Löbrau on tap.”

Hrelle’s stomach grumbled in agreement; it had been ages since he had last had fresh kydra rings. “That’d be great, thanks.”

Syras held out his arms expansively as he grinned and moved to the door. “Hospitality is our byword at the Benbow!”

Hrelle closed the door after him and locked it, focusing on Sreen, who needed changing. Fortunately he had obtained washable diapers and other helpful goods at the store, and set her down on the bed, removing her exoframe and undressing her to clean her up. “I know, I know, it’s not what either of us are used to. But just think of it as a Grand Adventure, eh?”

His daughter lay helplessly there, her Neurodystraxic condition more obvious now without the assistance of her exoframe, but she stared up at him with her bright honey eyes, babbling, “Dubbada Doo Do Da!”

Once she was cleaned and dressed again, he forwent refitting her exoframe to prepare some cub formula, fixing the teat into her muzzle and holding the bottle as she greedily sucked away, while he sat on the edge of the bed, the exhaustion and stress of the last twelve hours quickly catching up with him. But he hummed to Sreen, wiping formula from her muzzle when she was done. “Well, you’re a greedy little cub. You obviously get your appetite from your Mama.”

Once she was sorted, he lifted up the bag and set it beside the table, sitting down and removing the contents he scavenged from the powerboat, focusing on the communicator. He had to find out what he could about the others, and to let them know about his daughter and himself, and more importantly, how they could all get together again.

He started, reaching for his phaser as the door handle turned, failing to open with the lock he had set. He covered the weapons with a blanket and moved to the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s Mr Syras, Mr Hanzō! I brought your beer and kydra, as promised!”

Hrelle tensed as he unlocked the door and half-opened it, confirming the barkeep was there, alone, with a wicker basket of freshly-cooked battered kydra rings and a mug of amber froth-topped liquid. He accepted the offerings. “Thanks.”

Syras smiled. “I’ll check on you in a wee while if you need anything else.”

“No need, thank you, we’re going to sleep very, very soon, and then be up and gone early.”

“Of course, of course, enjoy your meal and your stay! And remember: Hospitality-”

“I know the rest, Mr Syras. Good night.” He closed and locked the door again, taking the food and drink to the table and continuing his work on the communicator, ignoring his mouth watering at the scents.

“Papa!” Sreen said from the bed. “Shis! Shis!”

He smiled; she was remarkably vocal and linguistic for her age, as he ate quickly, answering her between mouthfuls of food. “No, not shuris, Princess, kydra. It’s a Caitian squid, lovely when it’s fresh and the rings cut from the tentacles deep-fried in buttermilk batter. Don’t ask for shuris when you’re in a seafarers’ town, they’ll toss you into the water.”

“Shis! Me shis! Now!”

He smiled, wiping his muzzle on his sleeve. “It’s a little too much for your palate, Princess. I’ll have to force myself to eat all this myself.” He completed the assembly, checked the time, rechecked the readings, and then took a quick drink of the beer as he made his call.

An unfamiliar male’s voice responded. “‘The sun is shining’.”

“‘But the ice is slippery’,” Hrelle replied with the expected code phrase, counting the seconds before he knew he had to break the signal. “Any messages for Fat Cat?”

“Yes: ‘The Pack made it home, safe and well, missing you and Little Kitten.’ Any replies?”

Hrelle breathed in. “Fat Cat and Little Kitten are in Sekuro, safe and well, missing all of you, too. Sekuro too risky for pickup, hoping to ride the rails in the morning to Pakui and the Aerodrome. More at the next appointed time. Fat Cat out.” He ended the call, before accessing the Cynet for the maglev schedules; there were routes from here eastward to Pakui Province, and the desert towns, one of the stops being the Skycats Aerodrome; with the show closed following the Occupation, Captain Biggles could easily rendezvous with them there. 

Then he rechecked his weapons: phaser, plasma pistol, knife, and of course his sword. He sniffed himself; he could do with a shower-

“Mama,” Sreen demanded. “Mama!”

He rose, stripping out of his clothes to prepare for a shower but not before he returned to the bed, dropping his cub’s exoframe into the open bag to ensure he didn’t damage it, before lying down and settling the infant on top of him, purring to her and murmuring, “I know, Princess. I wish we were with Mama, too... and Misha and Sasha, and Grandpas Bneea and Mi’Tree...” He stared up at the ceiling. “And T’Varik and C’Rash, and Doc Masterson and Eydiir and Kit and Giles and everyone else still on the Surefoot too...”

As she settled down, calmed by his scent and proximity, he felt fatigue rising up through him, as if from the cheap mattress beneath him. “I miss being out there, Princess. Miss sitting on the Bridge, being in command, knowing what my ship and crew were capable of doing.” He smiled wistfully. “And we were capable of miracles. Not me, I just guide people into being the amazing people they are. I love them. Love them all.”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “I feel lost here, now. This is our planet, our people, I know I have to do what I can to save us... but I’d give anything to pass over all this responsibility to some genuine authority, and take some orders for a change.” He sighed now. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’m...”

He stopped as Sreen snored to herself on his furry chest.

He smiled, pulling a blanket over them both as best he could. The light was still on, and he still needed a shower, but he wasn’t prepared to risk waking his daughter. He could feel the fatigue reaching his head, his eyes...

*

Sasha strode into the Operations Centre, frowning at the sight of Nenjo directing Tshal and Mori and several other newly-recruited Starfleet retirees and active personnel. “What’s going on? Is it Dad? Have you heard from him?”

The coal-furred female looked to her. “Your grandfather Bneea left a coded message with the Kaetini’s Exchange. There was no response as yet.”

Sasha glanced around. “Then what’s going on?”

“We’re organising a strike on the Capitol Building. We have Sabrecats recovered from their injuries at Agana Mount, the Skycats can pilot a ship-”

She was turning away, but Sasha reached out and grabbed Nenjo by the elbow, turning the Caitian back as she demanded, “On whose authority?”

The Mother’s Claws Agent reared up, her tail twitching behind her as she shook off the human’s grip. “Mine. In Captain Hrelle’s absence, I am the next logical choice to take command, as the Caitian government’s only official representative here.”

“Bullshit! Dad always designated Kami to be in charge here in his absence.”

“Yes, when he intended, rather naively in my opinion, to make this place a refuge instead of a base of operations,” Nenjo countered, addressing the others in the room as much as she was Sasha. “I have determined that not to be a viable course of action anymore.”

Sasha stepped forward, her face taut. “That’s not your call. We’re gonna focus on getting my father and sister back safe.” She looked past her, moving to the males. “Mr Tshal, Mr Mori, I want an analysis of the Ferasan communications traffic, we’ll need all the intelligence we can get-”

Nenjo grabbed her now. “Lieutenant, we understand that you’re worried about your family, but we have to prioritise the needs of our people-”

“Let go of me.”

Nenjo tightened her hold.

“Let go of me,” Sasha repeated coldly, baring her teeth. “Or I’ll feed you to the dinosaurs up top.”

Nenjo bristled, baring her teeth back. “Oh, I doubt that, human. You don’t know who trained-”

More swiftly than anyone expected, Sasha dropped and twisted, flinging the Caitian female over her shoulder. Nenjo immediately sprung back up, claws bared, launching herself at Sasha-

Until Mori stepped in. “No-”

Nenjo caught him across the snout and forearm with her claws, sending him backwards as she tackled Sasha, the two of them rolling on the floor, kicking, punching and biting.

Tshal grabbed Nenjo from behind and dragged her off of Sasha, his larger frame affording him some defence against her speed and agility. “Get a hold of yourself, both of you!”

Kami stormed into the scene and roared, ending the altercation.

Sasha helped herself back to her feet, her face and hands stinging with pain from the claw marks Nenjo left her. “Kam-”

Kami raised a paw to cut her off, looking at the others, fury etched into her expression. “We will not fight each other! We have an enemy already, far more deserving of our anger!” She turned to Nenjo. “The Federation Charter, which Cait signed when we joined over a century ago,  adjures Starfleet to take command in any disaster situation on a member world, in the absence of official authority; what’s happened to our world certainly qualifies as that. You hold no official authority, and have no right to try and take over, and I remain the senior ranking officer still on active duty.”

Nenjo shook Tshal’s hold off of her, seeking to retain some level of autonomy.”With respect, Counselor, your role onboard the Surefoot hardly qualifies you to take command of anything outside of a group therapy session.”

“Then you’re not as informed as you think you are, Agent Nenjo, or you’d know of my Command and Bridge Officer qualifications and experience as well. And I am the daughter of Ma’Sala Shall, your former leader; I’ve learned much from her.” Then she turned to face the others, raising her voice again. “If anyone else here has a problem with my being in command... now’s the time to say so!”

No one said anything.

Kami calmed down – a little – as she faced Tshal and Mori once more. “For now, we will focus on locating and rescuing Captain Hrelle. Not because he is my husband and has our daughter with him, but because he has greater tactical experience than any of us, combined.” Now she looked at Mori, noting the scratches on his snout. “Do you need to excuse yourself to get those wounds seen to, Lieutenant?”

The young male straightened up. “No, Ma’am. I’ll take care of it later.”

“Good. Contact the Exchange for an update.” As he complied, Kami looked back at Sasha. “Get your vessel re-armed and ready to fly at a moment’s notice. Mr Tshal: Captain Hrelle mentioned the installation of sensor and transporter inhibitors around the island to prevent the enemy detecting us and beaming in. Has that been completed?”

The older male responded to her commanding demeanour. “The industrial replicators here have managed 90% of the required number so far, Ma’am, and will be done in the next hour, but we need bodies to plant them-”

She waved to the new arrivals. “You have them; this takes priority over training on our support systems. I want it done within the hour.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Counselor!” Mori rose from his station and removed his earpiece. “The Exchange received a response from the Captain! They made it to Sekuro, it’s too dangerous to get picked up there, they’re hoping to get the maglev to Pakui and the Skycats Aerodrome in the morning!”

Sasha watched the tension lessen in Kami’s stance. “Thank you, Mr Mori... and if it helps, everyone here may address me by my Starfleet rank: ‘Commander’. Sasha, be ready to fly out to Pakui within the hour.”

“Counselor- I mean, Commander,” Nenjo interrupted, sounding less contentious now. “As a human, and a human whose image has been broadcast around the world, Lieutenant Hrelle will hardly blend in. I should go.”

Sasha reacted to that, until Kami responded to Nenjo with, “Captain Hrelle helped free the Sabrecats in Agana Mount with the help of one of your holosuits to make him appear as a Ferasan; she can use one. And she’ll go with Captain Biggleshen or one of his Skycats; they know the Pakui territory, and they can assist in flying the Tailless.”

“I have flight experience-”

Nenjo’s further protests were cut off by a raised finger from Kami. “You will not be going with her. You two have been figuratively at each other’s throats since you met... and now, tonight, that blossomed into reality.” She drew closer, ensuring she had the agent’s full attention. “And if you ever attack any of our people again, you can go fight the Ferasans on your own. Prepare a holosuit for Sasha, and then continue the search for the Deep Keep, and keep me informed of your progress.”

She looked around again. “You all have your orders. Get moving.”

*

Sreen’s hiss snapped Hrelle awake, as the door to the room was kicked in, and a large silhouette in the doorway – a Jem’Hadar soldier – fired a blue-white disruptor bolt in the direction of the bed. He clutched Sreen to him tightly and rolled off the side of the bed to the wooden floor, as the bolt struck the wall nearest the bed, splintering the wall and sending sparks to set the bedcovers on fire.

Hrelle reached for a leg of the adjacent table, gripped it and flipped the table in the direction of the intruder, sending the beer and other objects flying in the direction of the doorway, before he grabbed a fallen plasma pistol, aiming and firing, even as he dodged another bolt that grazed his back, singeing his fur there.

He heard his attacker fall as his plasma bolt struck, but he also heard others outside, gruff voices barking orders at each other.

Hrelle clutching the infant closer to him as he slung his bag over his other shoulder and rose, still naked but not stopping to cover up; they couldn’t let their attackers have time to organise outside.

“Get him!” he heard Syras outside urging, “What are you waiting for? Get them both and give me the reward!”

Hrelle stayed low, as bolts shot through the walls of the room at waist level, blindly trying to hit him. He crawled to the doorway, pressing Sreen tight against his chest as he set his pistol to Self-Destruct and flung it out in the direction of the attackers, hearing it bounce against a wall as he dropped, fully covering Sreen with his body-

The blast blew out portions of the surrounding walls and made his ears pop, but he had to move now. Taking Sreen by the scruff of her onesie between his teeth, he picked up his phaser in one paw and his sword in the other and raced out into the smoke, determined to get to the stairs past the balcony overlooking the tavern-

Only to find most of the balcony had been blown away by the blaster detonation.

He barely managed to land safely on his feet and still hold onto Sreen in his mouth, as he found himself surrounded, not by drinking patrons, but more Jem’Hadar, stunned from the explosion but quickly recovering.

Wasting no time, he spun around, again and again, firing, kicking, stabbing, finishing off the Jem’Hadar... while Sreen squealed with delight at it all.

I’ve got a weird cub....

A disruptor bolt from a surviving soldier on the balcony sent him running for cover behind the bar and firing back, catching him and sending him sprawling over the edge to land with the others.

“Papa!” Sreen laughed. “Moar! Moar!”

A noise made him twist and aim his phaser- stopping as he saw it was Syras, cowering behind the bar as well, paws raised in surrender. “P-Please- T-They- They came in, threatened me-”

Hrelle aimed at the male’s head – until he focused on Sreen, a witness... and a reminder that, for all his willingness to kill in self-defence, he wasn’t a murderer. He took Sreen from his mouth and held her against him, growling, “Spend the rest of your treacherous life looking over your shoulder, you bastard... because someday I’ll come back to settle with you. Thanks for the hospitality.”

“Bye Bye!” Sreen called happily as Hrelle took her out into the night.

Hrelle departed into a street filled with onlookers. He was still naked... but everyone was looking more at the weapons in his paws than anywhere else, as he heard more Jem’Hadar approach, and he raced in the opposite direction, people parting quickly.

He darted down a winding alley, past numerous doorways, some of them open where occupants were querying the commotion, but quickly closing again on seeing a naked male running past wielding a sword and phaser in his paws and holding a cub in his mouth.

Finally, he stopped, setting down the sword to cradle Sreen more properly in his arm, his feet and limbs aching. He started at a noise from the avenue he had just left-

“Hey.”

He looked across, seeing an older smoke-furred female, with an infant cub swaddled in her arms. She glanced down the alley, before focusing on Sreen, and motioning them inside. “Come, inside.”

He looked past her, to the interior of her dwelling, and the cubs of different ages peering out curiously. “I- I don’t want to endanger you- your household-”

She grunted. “Someone is obviously after you both. No one threatens cubs while I’m alive. Get inside... and put on some pants.”

He nodded gratefully, grabbed his sword and bag and complied.

*

Kami stood watching and listening to her son sleep under sedation on the cot, occasionally growling and mumbling to himself under the influence of some dream, no doubt about the events of today. His arm had been fully healed, the facility’s equipment finishing the job started by the resources on the flyer, though of course his psychological healing would take longer. 

More trauma heaped upon your cubs thanks to you, she accused herself, immediately working her own psychological coping mechanisms: immediately acknowledging the guilt she felt, and then placing it in perspective. There were more pressing concerns.

Papa Bneea slipped an arm around hers and silently, gently but insistently guiding her out of the room and switching off the light, joining Jhess in the adjacent quarters. The spotted male looked to them both. “He’ll be fine tomorrow; I gave him some kayolane to give him a sound sleep.”

Kami nodded, offering an exhausted smile. “Thank you, Jhess. I’m sorry I haven’t been around to see how you and the other Sabrecats are coping.”

He waved off her apology. “No need; I’ve been in touch with my ex-wife and son in Shanos Minor, and they’re okay, organising protests against the Security clampdowns, but I’m trying to convince them to come here. My fellow Militia are recovering to varying degrees. Many of us are eager to begin taking the fight to the Ferasans.”

“I understand, and I promise you, they will, and soon... with you in charge, if you’re willing and able.”

He smiled. “I’m both.”

“Good. When you get back, I want you to organise a Security detail; you’ll have access to the Armoury, I want at least four people on duty at all times, with one always in the Command Bay at the Tactical station, and the others on patrol, being a reassuring, visible presence to our refugees.” She yawned. “Excuse me.”

She caught Jhess and Bneea exchanging glances, before the nanny smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “You’ve had a very stressful day. Get some rest, and we’ll have Esek and My Lady back before you know it. Good night.”

As he left, Kami yawned again, and Bneea guided her to the beds. Like everything else here, it was all basic, windowless being underground but with wall panels that could display any number of virtual environments to help alleviate the claustrophobia. For Kami, though, it merely accentuated what they had lost today. “Papa...”

“Shhh.” He helped remove her shoes and outer clothes, before guiding her to lie down, slipping beside her, reaching up to the wall control to turn off the lights. “I am so proud of you, My Little Nova. You are managing us so well. But now, you need sleep; the way things are going, you don’t know how much you’ll manage before we’re needed again.”

She breathed in her father’s scent, taking her back to her days as a cub, coming to sleep with him whenever Mama was out in deep space, fighting the enemy...

The enemy who had now killed Mama, had devastated their world and family and... “Papa... they blew up the house. Blew it to pieces. Destroyed everything. Our clothes, our furnituyre, our mementos... Rmorra’s old shirt, Papa Mi’Tree’s awards-”

“It doesn’t matter, Kami. None of it does.”

“It’s all gone. The house had stood for generations, everything that was in it-”

He stroked her mane softly, gently. “Houses can be rebuilt. Things are just things. Family is all that matters.”

She swallowed, reaching up to wipe the tears welling in her eyes before they stained the mattress. “They killed S’Graow. She- She was betraying us, trying to get control of the Clanlands in exchange for getting Esek and Sasha.”

“Yes. And I’m more sorry than I had expected for her loss.”

“And Esek- my baby- they’re out there, alone-”

Bneea purred as he strengthened his touch on her. “You know your husband better than anyone else. You know what he’s capable of in the defence of his family. We have good people taking shifts in the Command Bay, watching and listening, and they know to contact us if they hear anything. Now try to sleep; if you’re still anything like you were at Misha’s age, you’ll be the crankiest little bitch when you don’t get enough.”

Despite herself, she couldn’t keep from smiling in the dark.

*

Hrelle had been reluctant to accept the aid, not wanting to put the female and her household in danger with their presence. But M’Troia, the wife of a fisherman currently out to sea, had waved off his concerns... and he knew that, stuck in a strange city in the middle of the night and with the Enemy in the streets, he had little choice.

Her cubs had been awakened by the commotion outside, and their restlessness only increased when they recognised, not Hrelle, but Sreen, from her appearances on her grandfather Mi’Tree’s show The Taleteller. They entertained her with games and she returned the favour with one of her made-up babble songs.

The exception was the eldest male cub, Shuul, a ten-year-old coffee-furred male who watched this intruder in his home with sullen suspicion, resisting Hrelle’s attempts to placate or befriend him. We understand each other, Cub. You stand firm in protecting your home.

M’Troia, meanwhile, found Hrelle some spare clothes from her husband’s wardrobe – Thank Mother for stretchy pants – before she let him sleep on her couch, Sreen against him once she grew exhausted again. He slept fitfully through the rest of the night, woke up early with the rest of the household, and ate quickly, seeing his image on all the household Cynet channels from the Ferasans, along with a reward: a thousand bars of gold-pressed latinum for information on his whereabouts.

An offer that M’Troia snorted when she caught him looking over at her while she set out breakfast for her cubs. “Don’t worry, Captain. I was raised to know that my integrity is worth more than any wealth... besides, if I get the money for turning you in, my fool husband would just spend it on fancy fur combs and bags of sugared Claw Flakes for the cubs.” 

She looked at Sreen, sitting on her father’s lap shaking a rattle, before moving to an adjacent room, returning with a red scarf, wrapping it around the infant’s head and shoulders. “Cubs in this part of the city can’t afford contraptions like this. Best to keep her looking ordinary.”

“Thank you, M’Troia.” He looked around at her modest home. “Listen, you and everyone else in Sekuro need to know: if the Ferasans, if anyone, tells you that you or your cubs or anyone you know is sick with Metremia and need to come away with them to be cured... don’t listen to them.”

She grunted, reaching out to tickle under Sreen’s muzzle, making the infant purr. “We may live more traditionally here than in the Northern Provinces, Captain, but we know the Truth of Things.”

He smiled in recognition. “‘The Truth of Things, as Vast and Undeniable as the Seas’.”

She looked to him. “How does a Starfleet officer know a Sea Saying?”

He finished his tea. “I had a life on Cait before I went to space.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced a credit card. “It’s not a thousand bars of GPL, but there’s a little something for your troubles-”

Now she waved it off. “But nothing. Put it away, you might need it getting out of the city.”

But he set it down, and slid it across the table. “You’ve done a lot for my daughter and me, for which I will be forever in your debt.”

He took his leave, the family, minus Shuul, who just still scowled at the departure, waving them off, Sreen – strapped in a shoulder carrier provided by M’Troia – grumpy as the Seven Hells at having to leave behind her new friends, but then distracted as she took in the scents and sights and sounds of the streets and markets of Sekuro.

Hrelle was equally alert, but more out of self-defence than curiosity, noting the presence of Jem’Hadar, moving through the crowds... blocking the way to the maglev stations and the autocar hire depots.

Mother’s Cubs, his image was appearing on the public displays overhead, along with that reward! And judging from Sylas’ actions last night, he couldn’t count on everyone being as generous and decent as M’Troia.

And the Jem’Hadar were running checks on everyone passing by them in intersections.

He moved towards the police stations... but saw more Jem’Hadar, and now Ferasans with them, and Caitian police being forced back inside the station, barred from leaving.

He turned and headed towards the docks. His original powerboat will almost certainly have been confiscated, but he might be able to steal another-

More Jem’Hadar. Shit, shit, shit...

Looking over his right shoulder, Sreen picked up on his growing unease and made curious sounds. He reached up and scratched under her chin. “It’s okay, my Warrior Princess. It’s... going to be okay.”

He moved with the crowds, finding himself near the larger docks, where the bigger fishing boats were berthed, taking on more supplies or crew, many maintaining the tradition of using segmented square sails, though there were of course modern engines and equipment also onboard. There was a flurry of activity here, one he could get lost in, even as his mind linked back to his days as a cub, when he helped his father prepare their own boat... Mother’s Cubs, decades ago. Lifetimes-

Sreen hissed.

He turned, instinctively ascending a gangplank to one large boat as if having meant to do so all along.

Unaware that he was being watched from the docks...

Hrelle stepped onto the ship, ensuring he had access to his phaser in his pocket, as his sword was wrapped up in his shoulder pack beside Sreen. He looked around, feeling the deck beneath his feet, the heady activity, as bracing as the salty taste in the air-

“You!”

Hrelle paused, turning to the origin of the voice: a broad-shouldered, Caitian male about his age, with flint-coloured fur broken in places from a life of rope and hook scars Hrelle remembered seeing on his own father, and dressed in rugged, weather-beaten fisherfolk’s clothes. The male drew up, regarding Hrelle, and then Sreen. “We didn’t order any extra ballast on this voyage.”

Hrelle heard the laughter from the male’s crew around them at the joke, though he kept one eye still on the docks, and the Jem’Hadar at the far end, making a nuisance of themselves as they moved through the crowds. “Sorry for the intrusion, Mister...”

The other male kept up a cautious edge as he focused on Hrelle. “It’s Captain Sallah. Why are you and this little fish onboard the Highsun?” He chuckled. “Surely not to look for work onboard? An old Groundpounder like you?”

“Uh... yes.” He glanced back at the docks. “Yes, I am. Times are tough. And I promise you: I’m no Groundpounder.”

Sreen raised a stubby furred finger at Sallah. “No Gowpow!”

“I grew up Fisherfolk, up north in R’Trerah,” Hrelle continued. “You never lose your Sea Tail, my Papa used to say.”

The Captain nodded, looking dubious, before glancing around and lifting up a short length of five-hemp rope, tossing it to Hrelle. “If you’re Fisherfolk, tie me a Shawshank Knot in that hawser.”

Hrelle caught it, looking at the intricate weave, stained with seasalt and grease. “I can’t do that... because there’s no such thing as a Shawshank Knot.” He worked the rope in his paws anyway, his fingers seemingly moving of their own accord from long-buried muscle memory. “I can tie you a Clove Line, a Cleat Hitch, a Paw Twist, a Slip Knot...” 

He finished his work and held it up. “Here, a Timber Six; that’s ideal for securing your foresail.” He threw it back to Sallah. “And we both know that line’s not a hawser. The hawsers are the bigger lines you use for mooring or towing your ship.”

He walked around the deck a little, stepping out of the way of the crew as they passed... while still keeping an eye on the docks, and the Jem’Hadar getting closer. “My Papa used to nail a gold piece to the main mast at the start of every season to guarantee a successful haul, and a safe return home. Nice to see you do the same Down South.” He looked fore. “Do you join the cut splice lines of your staysail and jib on a three-rung pattern, or four?”

Sallah tossed aside the knot Hrelle had made, grunting and looking a little annoyed at the level of knowledge Hrelle displayed, and the approving reactions it was producing from the other members of the crew who were listening in on the exchange. “Five; the Southern Shears off the Icefields will rip through the sails with any smaller pattern.” He drew up to Hrelle, frowning at Sreen. “We’re not some pampered R’Trerah tail chasers dragging their mewling cubs around.”

Sreen scowled and shook a finger at him again. “Sleddy Za Saboy!”

“You heard her,” Hrelle told him, lowering his voice as he glanced back behind him. Mother’s Cubs, the Jem’Hadar were almost on them, and if they had to fight their way out... “Look, Captain, I know my business, I’m not afraid of hard work, and my daughter won’t cause any trouble-”

Sallah stepped back, motioning to one of the younger males. “Gershom! Take them down to my cuddy!” Locking eyes on Hrelle now, he added softly, “Go straight down, don’t look back at the docks, we’re setting off directly. After we leave the Bay, I’ll be down to see you.”

Hrelle stiffened... and realised he had no choice but to trust the Captain. He followed the short young male downstairs along the steep, narrow steps and into a small cabin, cluttered and smelling of smoke and alcohol and with a tiny hexagonal porthole looking out onto the Bay of Sekuro. He drew out his phaser when they were alone.

“Feza?” Sreen asked, staring at it.

He moved around, looking for escape routes, other weapons, anything at all that might convince him that he was right to not suspect Captain Sallah of being ready to betray them. “Only if necessary, Little Howler... the charge is low at this point that we have to be sparing-” He paused and looked up at her, smiling. “Wait, did you just say ‘phaser’? Go on, say it again! ‘Phaser’! ‘Phaser’!”

She just stared at him and said nothing.

“Please?” he added, smiling.

She shook her head. Literally shook her head.

Stubborn little bag of attitude... He set his shoulder bag down, keeping his phaser and the top of his sword in paw’s reach as he continued to listen to the sounds uptop, while withdrawing his communicator, needing to send a message to the Exchange and inform them of the change of plans-

Shit. Shit Shit SHIT! It wasn’t working! Something was wrong with it, but he didn’t have the tools to work out what! Or the time-

He started as he felt the engines of the Highsun come to life; Hrelle knew that though they would favour the old-fashioned sails for when they were chasing the more elusive sleekfish and guthiks, they would power their way out of the harbour. He heard the hawsers being uncoiled from the dock moorings, and the raising of the anchor.

“Gogo?” Sreen asked.

He looked up at the low ceiling of the Captain’s cabin, as if he could see through the bulkhead. “Yes, Sweetheart. I think we’re going. I think we’re really getting away.”

*

Kami was a veteran of forcing herself into a state of alertness when called upon during shipboard emergencies. Still, when she was summoned by a message from the Command Bay, awakening in an unfamiliar bed with Papa Bneea next to her instead of Esek, she allowed herself a moment of anxious confusion, before dressing and rushing up, Bneea following, after checking to confirm Misha was still heavily asleep, and that Mirow and Ptera had been settled nearby as well.

Sasha had left hours before in the Tailless, but Esek had since missed the deadline for the next communication... but there was still another communication awaiting her: Mistress Nvell of the Kaetini Order, the elderly ash-furred female appraised of the situation. “We have operatives in Sekuro Port, Commander Hrelle; we’ll make enquiries.”

Kami nodded “Thank you. We believed they were going to try and get the maglev east to Pakui, but the Ferasan communications traffic indicates that the Jem’Hadar are flooding Sekuro looking for them.” She paused, breathing in, as Bneea reached out and rested a supportive paw on her shoulder. “They’ve put out a huge reward for my husband.”

“If the invaders had captured him, they’d be declaring it throughout the planet. As it happens, I pity anyone who tries to claim the reward by taking on Big Balls.”

Kami nodded again, knowing her new responsibilities meant she couldn’t just stay focused on Esek and Sreen. “Your Ferasan prisoner... what have you learned from him?”

“Your husband’s suspicions were correct: there is definitely something wrong with the Ferasan genetic integrity. The Augmentation that they triggered a millennium ago began... unravelling... two generations ago. Infertility, losses, genetic instability causing fatal physical and mental disabilities. They’ve kept it quiet to prevent panic, as well as potential exploitation by outside powers, but they strongly suspected they would need us, both as breeding stock and... to take our cubs, to alter them physically at a young enough age and raise them as their own.”

Kami stiffened; the more she had heard from Esek about his suspicions, the more she read of the reports of the false Metremia Threat as an excuse to gather up appropriate... subjects, the more sickened that she had become by it all. The civilised part of her railed at the Ferasan’s choice of action: not to end centuries of hostility and simply... ask for help, but to take this terrible, murderous course of action... She looked to Tshal, who had returned from completing the installation of the transporter inhibitors. “Do we have the latest figures about the Caitians who have disappeared to date?”

The older male glanced down at his station near her, before looking up again. “It’s- It’s not comprehensive, Commander, but... as of yesterday, the number exceeds... 62,000. This- This doesn’t include those who have simply... vanished. Scientists, teachers and doctors, politicians, commentators, journalists. Anyone who has publicly questioned or opposed the Ferasans and their lies just... goes, with no sign of where they end up.”

And more are disappearing every day, Kami told herself. “We don’t have the resources to fight the enemy openly, not yet. But we can’t keep letting our people believe their lies, and blindly obey their orders... and then facing whatever fates await them. We need to get the message out, and now.”

“Secretly monitoring communications from here is one thing,” Tshal reminded her. “Getting a message out without it being backtracked to our location is another.”

“We might be able to assist,” Nvell offered. “If you can put together a brief, compelling message... preferably with accompanying evidence. We recorded the confession our prisoner provided, and can include it in any data package, and we have some young cubs quite proficient in accessing the Cynet.” She glanced away, before adding, “Our communications window is almost closed.”

“Understood. I’m glad you’re back with us, Mistress Nvell. We’ll speak again at the appointed time, and we’ll have something ready for distribution by then.” She signalled for Tshal to end the transmission, wishing for the thousandth time that Esek and Sreen were here. Jnill had promised her that none of the transport ships the Ferasans were making her company build would be operational, and Kami didn’t doubt it, but that didn’t stop their people from being killed and abused. “Can we reach the Tailless, and update them?”

“Not at this time, Commander.” He rubbed at his eyes.

Kami took note of that, but turned to Bneea. “We need a publicly-recognised figure, a much-loved celebrity, someone used to speeches you can be compelling and believable, to be ready to deliver a message to the Motherworld at short notice.”

Bneea smiled. “I’ll wake Mi’Tree and get him ready.”

He started to turn and depart, but Kami caught him by the elbow and indicated Tshal. “You can take Mr Tshal here and ensure he goes to bed. He’s been up all night.”

The other male shook his head and tried to wave off her concerns. “I’m fine, Commander, really, but thank you-”

She smiled at him. “It’s adorable that you think this is a suggestion rather than an order. Eight hours minimum, with a meal... and a sonic shower.” She crossed her arms. “Or I can get Doctor T’Ana to sedate you.”

Tshal shuddered and rose. “Thank you, Commander, but no. She’s talked about sinking her coital hooks into me if she got the chance.” He blinked. “I’m assuming that she’s not one of those rare Caitians who was born with them. Don’t want to know either way.”

“Then you’d best head straight to bed. Alone. And Papa? Have some breakfast sent down, would you? I haven’t eaten since almost this time yesterday.” She motioned towards the doors, letting the males depart while she focused on the remaining personnel at the stations here, most of them unfamiliar – as yet – to her. She suddenly understood a little more how Esek and other commanding officers felt when there were crew out there, missing in action, their fates uncertain, but being unable to ignore greater responsibilities. That it was her husband and daughter shouldn’t, in theory, make any difference.

But of course, it did.

“Excuse me,” she announced. As heads turned to face her, she drew up, and with the best facade she could manage, she continued. “I am Commander Kami Hrelle, wife of Captain Hrelle, most of whom you’ll have met already. I wish we could have met under better circumstances, but since we’re here, let’s get to know each other.”

*

Several thousand kilometres east by southeast, the Tailless, operating under a disguised vessel registry and energy signature, was beginning a descent over the vast ochre desert of the Pakui Province, the clear azure sky above occasionally broken by fluttering ribbons of sand lifted up by the winds to offer a haze.

Captain Biggleshen’s large paws moved over the pilot’s controls once more, making a sound to himself.

Beside him, Jhess Furore looked in his direction. “Problem?”

Biggles’ muzzle creased into a smile. “No. I’ll just never quite get used to flying like this. It needs a stick, something to grab onto and pull back on, to make her do what you want with a confident touch.”

Jhess raised his arms to stretch, yawn and smile. “That’s very revealing, Captain. Fortunately for you I’m only a cub psychologist.” Then he rose. “I’d best wake up Sasha, and see what she looks like in her holosuit.” He ventured to the midsection, rapping on the door. “Sash, we’re almost at the Skycats Aerodrome.”

He heard a grumbling sound, and then the door slid aside. She stood there, eyes wide, alert, almost acutely so, clad in a form-fitting black suit, cowl and boots, the many miniature holoemitter units on its surface reflecting the ambient light, and allowing her to wear a Caitian blaster at her side and her Kaetini blade strapped over one shoulder. She started as he frowned at her. “What?”

He breathed in through his nostrils... catching her scent. “Are you okay? You seem a little jumpy. Did you not get any sleep?”

She shrugged, shifting in place and tugging at the gloves and hips of the holosuit. “Sure. This thing just keeps pinching me in places usually left for my lovers.” She walked around him. “Captain, how are you doing with the controls?”

Jhess hung back, leaning in to keep the door to her quarters open, seeing the dishevelled interior, focusing on an open medikit on a nearby table, and a hypospray-

“Hey, Jhess.”

He stepped back into the corridor, the door sliding shut as he returned to the cockpit. “What’s up?”

She was sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, frowning at him. “Something wrong?”

“No,” he lied.

*

Hrelle had waited until Sreen began mewling before removing her headscarf and finally feeding her the remainder of the purchased formula, resisting the urge to snoop around, wanting to stay alert until-

-Captain Sallah entered his quarters, moving behind his desk, eyeing Hrelle suspiciously until Hrelle said, “Captain, I want to thank you-”

He held up a callused paw to cut him off. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know who you really are, or why the Aliens were after you...” He paused as he glanced at the top of Hrelle’s shoulder bag, where the handle of his Kaetini sword and was sticking out, the Order’s emblem on the pommel, and glanced at Hrelle with astonished recognition before he finally continued. “Or your life story, or anything else.”

 Hrelle studied him. Sallah seemed... well, a lot like many fisherfolk he remembered from cubhood: focused on the job at hand, with little interest in the affairs of the rest of the world. But that wouldn’t suit Hrelle’s purposes. “Captain, you’ve seen what’s happened to our world... the Ferasans and the Dominion have taken over-”

“They haven’t reached my ship. This is my world.”

“They’ve wiped out our Militia, our Government, they’re taking our females and cubs-”

“That’s for others to worry about, not me. Or should I alert the Harbour Police and ask them to come collect you and your cub?”

Hrelle didn’t respond.

Sallah leaned back in his chair. “Back in the Port, they call me the Black Bane of Sekuro. And they’ll say many things about me, and I’ll guarantee you, none of it will speak of my charity. I only took you on because you seem to know one end of the ship from the other, and because I need someone else onboard who won’t make me feel as old as the First Martyr compared to the rest of this boatload of cubs just out of their first Season.” He sniffed in Sreen’s direction. “What’s that metallic wrapping on her, some sort of... armour?”

“An exoframe, to compensate for her Neurodystraxia.” Hrelle tensed as he put away the formula bottle, knowing how some the older generation viewed Caitians with such disabilities. After all he’d been through with his daughter, he wasn’t in the mood for some bigoted old cat.

But Sallah just grunted. “This isn’t a hospital ship, Mr Hanzō, or a cruise liner. I expect you to pull your weight without noise.” He glared at Sreen, leaning forward. “From either of you. Normally you’d bunk with the crew, but I’ll get Gershom to clear out the line storage behind my cuddy for you and your cub.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Don’t thank me, I’m thinking of the crew, I don’t want them disturbed with late night wailing from Fishbait there. And when you’re on duty, you can leave her with Neshama, my servant... maybe she won’t throw her into the stewpot, maybe she will. She’s almost as rough a piece of timber as myself-”

Suddenly the door burst open unannounced, Hrelle drawing up his phaser into view, before almost immediately lowering it – and being watched by Sallah throughout – as Hrelle saw it was another of Sallah’s crew, a heavy-set, slate-furred female of a similar age to the sea Captain, and in fact of a similar scent, her left ear sporting several gold earrings and her large frame filling up a vest and baggy trousers that smelled of spices and sauces. She glared at Sallah, a cleaver in one paw... but then drove it down onto the wooden surface of Sallah’s table and smiled without malice or aggression as she left it there to regard Sreen. “Ahhh, so the scuttlebutt wasn’t all bilge... you’ve let a cub onboard!”

Sallah rose to his feet, baring his teeth at the intruder. “How many times have I told you not to come in without knocking first?”

“Wouldn’t know, I never listen to you, so I never counted.” Her eyes still on Sreen, she drew closer and closer to the cub, bronze eyes wide... before sticking out her tongue.

Sreen stuck her tongue back, making the older female laugh.

“Nesh...” Sallah growled. “I’m busy. Get out!”

The female still ignored him – Hrelle scented that they were definitely related, possibly siblings – as she smiled at the cub. “You’re as pretty as sunlight sparkle on the sea!” She looked up at Hrelle. “What’s her name?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Sreen. I’m... Hattori Hanzō. And you’re Neshama, Captain Sallah’s... servant?”

The female had been focused on Sreen, but now looked up at him, and then at Sallah. “You’re still telling others I’m your servant instead of your sister and co-owner of this ship, you lukewarm stream of piss? You’d best check your grub tonight for multi-legged surprises.” She looked at Hrelle again. “I’m the ship’s Machinist, the Sculler, the Quartermaster, I’ll help haul in the catches and patch up the scars...” She indicated Sallah. “And I’ll remind him which end is the bow and which is the stern.”

“Nesh!” Sallah repeated, more sharply now. “I’m warning you-!

Now she looked at her brother. “Are you talking or farting? It’s hard to tell the difference. Where are you putting them?”

Sallah bristled, clearly determined not to simply respond to her in front of strangers, before finally responding, “I’m getting Gershom to clear out the Line Storage cuddy for them.”

Neshama grunted. “That’s a very good idea of yours... but then, you were overdue.” She looked to Hrelle, but indicated Sallah. “He’s usually so dumb he couldn’t drive nails in water.”

Sallah rose, stabbing a forefinger in her direction, fury in his expression. “I don’t give a damn if you’re my sister, I’ll not stand for disrespect from you!”

“Ooooh, I’m so scared!” she retorted, waving her paws in the air in mock fright.

Sreen imitated her. “Ooooh!”

Sallah ground his teeth, slamming his fists down on the table before storming around it. “I’m going to the Bridge to begin plotting our course!”

“You mean you’re gonna radio back to Mom and whine, again, that I’ve been picking on you?” she teased him on his departure.

He cursed.

Sreen tried to copy his word, failing.

Hrelle looked to Neshama, hesitant about possibly causing trouble between the two of them... though he suspected this was routine, but still he didn’t want Sreen and himself to get caught in the middle, on top of everything else. “I, uh, I hope he’ll be okay with us here?”

The female smiled at Sreen and tickled under her muzzle. “If it wasn’t, ‘The Black Bane of Sekuro’ would have thrown you off before we left port... don’t let him intimidate you, Mr Hanzō. If you pull your weight, you’ll fit right in. And I’ll be happy to have this little Sea Sprite for company when you’re on duty.”

Hrelle smiled with genuine gratitude. “Thank you.” He wanted to talk to her, try to get her on his side... but decided not to push things, not now, and focus on repairing the communicator and let Kami and the others know they were alive and well and out of Sekuro.

*

In the Medical Bay of Kaijushima Island, Bneea entered to find Mi’Tree half-sitting up on the biobed, staring ahead while Doctor T’Ana was at his side. “Look, Sugartail, I may have been happy when I was younger and in Season to spend the afternoon in my bedroom stroking off to the posters I had of you on my walls, that was a long time ago...”

“What’s going on?” Bneea asked. “Is he still injured, Doctor?”

T’Ana grunted. “What? No, he’s fine, just feeling sorry for himself like some cub with a kinked tail. You sort him out, I have better things to do.”

As she walked away, Bneea took his husband’s paw, squeezing. “Good morning. I’m glad you’re awake. And alive too, by the way. You’re needed.”

Mi’Tree harrumphed. “You don’t need me. I let those filthy murdering Ferasans invade our home, destroy it. They killed S’Graow, threatened our daughter, our grandcubs-”

“So, by letting them, you mean somehow being physically  unable to repel dozens of armed Ferasans? I’m sorry, I forgot that you were actually the hero from your Clawback series and not just an actor.”

Mi’Tree looked up and glared at him now, pulling out of his touch. “This isn’t funny, Bneea! I’ve been told that Esek and Sreen are now on the run, being chased by those wretched Rat-tails! We should all be out there now looking for them!”

Bneea crossed his arms now. “Sasha, Jhess and Captain Biggles are out there now. We’re needed for other duties.”

The actor slumped down, turning away from him. “I’m not. I’m useless.”

“I didn’t come here to see you wallow in self-pity. As a matter of fact, a role awaits you. The most important role of your career. The most important role of your life, in fact.”

Mi’Tree looked back at him over his shoulder. “What are you on about?”

“Our daughter is in command until Esek returns. She intends to deliver a message to the rest of the Motherworld, revealing the Ferasans’ plans and rallying our people to resist. She wants someone known to as many of our people as possible... someone loved and trusted, someone comfortable with reading and enunciating... unless of course that disruptor blast has robbed you of your talent and confidence-”

Mi’Tree swung his legs over the side of the biobed and cast aside the sheet covering him, shaking back his mane and flexing his muscles. “I... am ready.”

He strode out the door. Nude.

“Not like that, you’re not!” Bneea scolded, chasing after him. “We want to rally the Motherworld, not frighten it!”

*

The maglev station was deserted, the offices shuttered and the schedules on the display indicating a reduced number of automated maglevs in recent days, since the Skycats, the only real reason to come out into this part of the desert, had shut down following the Occupation.

Biggles strode back to the others on the platform. “The next maglev is due in ten minutes. Have we heard from-”

Jhess breathed in deeply, the air a dry contrast to what he had grown accustomed to in the last few days on the Island. “No. They’re overdue.” He looked to the third member of their party. “Sasha?”

A Caitian female, young, blonde-furred, snub-muzzled and short-maned, and with a long, twitching tail sticking out of the back of her black travelling robes, had been pacing at the end of the platform, partly out of agitation... and partly to keep glancing at her reflection in the black glass walls. “This is the terminus, the end of the line; the maglev that arrives will have to head back to Sekuro. How long does the journey take?”

Jhess looked to Biggles, who replied, “Thirty, thirty-five minutes.”

She nodded at that. “We’ll leave the Tailless here and take the maglev and reconnoitre the Port, listen in on the Enemy’s transmissions.”

Jhess and Biggles glanced at each other, before the former asked, “Are you sure that’s wise, Sash?”

She drew closer to her Caitian reflection, still regarding it. “Which part in particular?”

“Well... every part. Leaving the ship here, going into the city when it’s swarming with Jem’Hadar and Ferasans-”

“I can summon the ship remotely if it’s needed.” Now she looked up at them, her holographic golden eyes fixed. “You two can stay onboard. I’ll go alone.”

Jhess stared back, before turning back to Biggles. “Captain, could you give me a moment to speak in confidence with the Lieutenant, please?”

The older male made a sound. “I’ll go visit the Little Cats’ Room.”

As he departed, Jhess drew up to Sasha. “Turn that off.”

She titled her head and looked back at her reflection. “Seriously, I hate to admit it to Nenjo, but this amazing. It picks up my human nonverbal clues and creates the Caitian equivalent, including the tail. She even said it releases a pseudo-scent-”

“Turn it off, Sasha.”

She frowned at him, before reaching for her wrist control; the photons and graviton sheath surrounding her seemed to evaporate as if under the desert heat, leaving a disconcerted, taut face. “What?”

Jhess studied her eyes, her real eyes, more thoroughly now. “What did you take?”

“Excuse me?”

“Cordafin? Hyperzine?” He sniffed. “You didn’t get any sleep on the way out here. You took stimulants from your medikit.”

He waited for her to deny it. Instead she shrugged. “So? One time, Emergency Use Only! I’m not some addict!”

He drew closer, concern suffusing his voice and expression. “Sasha, that was incredibly stupid! You know the harm that can do to you! Your heart, blood pressure, coordination-”

“Oh, now you’re an expert on stimulant abuse, are you?”

“Yes! As both a medical professional, and as an addict! When I’d come back from the last War, rather than work through what I’d experienced, I used drugs to regulate being awake and asleep and hungry and happy! Animazine, Axonol, Psilometrol! I thought I had it under control, too! It took a great deal of strength to admit I had a problem, and to fight it.”

Sasha stepped back, scowling. “Well... I’m happy for you, Jhess. I really am. But it’s not a problem for me as it was for you. Now, how about we drop this kvetching from you, and focus on finding my Dad and baby sister, so we can then finally deal with the fakakta animals who’ve invaded our world, okay?” She looked down the length of the maglev line, and called out, “CAPTAIN! IT’S COMING!” She looked back at Jhess. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll be onboard, huh?”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But what if it has the Enemy instead?”

She shrugged, tugging at the strap that held her sword and scabbard. “Then they really will have reached the End of the Line.”

*

Mori was looking over the freshly-dressed Mi’Tree, looking starstruck by the older male’s celebrity. “I’m sorry about the quality of the clothes, Mr Shall, someone of your exalted status deserves only the best-”

Nearby Bneea was going through the prepared speech. “Careful, Lieutenant, or he’ll burst the front of those trousers.”

Mi’Tree harrumphed, but focused on the younger male, all charm. “Quite alright, Dear Cub. A true artiste is not encumbered by costumes and props. I once performed an impromptu monologue from The Tempest at the request of the First Minister when I was wearing only a dressing gown-”

“Oh for Mother’s Sake!” Bneea exclaimed with exasperation. “It wasn’t requested, you ran into her in the hotel corridor when you stepped out to get the champagne from Room Service, and didn’t return for ten minutes! And you didn’t even close your damned dressing gown! Now will you please focus on the task ahead!” He handed the PADD to his husband. “Study it! You have to include all the points, clearly and coherently, we need to get this recorded and distributed immediately-”

But Mi’Tree held up a forefinger to cut him off, his focus fully on the text before him. Then he nodded and handed the PADD back. “Thank you.”

Bneea blinked. “That’s it? Just one look and you know what to say and how to say it?”

Mi’Tree breathed in, his expression sober and confident. “No: it’s just one look – supported by over sixty years in the business – and I know what to say and how to say it.” He fixed a look on Bneea. “I recognise that I might not be able to fend off hordes of Ferasans with my teeth and claws... but I still have a role to play in this fight. I won’t let you, or our daughter... or our world... down. I promise you.”

Mori stepped back, as if pushed back by the gravitas exuded from both older males. “Well, Sir, I’ll be running the recorders, we can always have a few takes, give you a chance to warm up.”

As it turned out, Mi’Tree only needed one take. And when it was over, he loved to Bneea, challenging him with, “Well?”

Bneea, thoroughly moved, embraced him tightly in reply.

*

Wrapped in her holographic disguise, Sasha could feel the tension in the surrounding crowds in the streets of Sekuro, and she kept her hand near her weapons as she made her way through the throngs, avoiding the groups of Jem’Hadar and Ferasans here and there, wondering what she had gotten herself into, coming here, trying to find Dad and Sreen in the midst of this chaos. She glanced back, looking for Jhess and Biggles, but they had decided to split up to widen their search, agreeing to meet up near the maglev station at the appointed time... and to otherwise avoid trouble.

She checked her chroniker; it was almost time for-

Her communicator chirped, and she stepped into a side alley that smelled of discarded trash and piss. “Any word?”

She was expecting to hear from Lt Mori. But it was Kami, sounding taut as a wire. “Nothing. What’s happening there?”

Sasha glanced around. “They tried to ambush Dad last night at the tavern he was staying at, but he blew it to shit and escaped. They’re trying to conduct house to house searches, but the locals are revolting... so to speak.”

“There must be a way to track them locally.”

“They’re two Caitians among thousands, Kami. Anything we might use, Dad would have neutralised to keep the Enemy from tracking them.” She paused, adding, “I’m not leaving here until we get them back, I promise-”

Commotion from nearby made her end the transmission and drop her arm, as Jem’Hadar began moving in her direction, and she left her position to swim around the people, using their numbers and agitated state to her advantage. She glanced back to see them go straight to the alley where she had stood moments before. Shit, they must have detected her signal!

*

Thousands of kilometres westward from Pakui Province across the Free Seas, in the temperate forested lands of the Mrell Province where the wild shurises run free, in an abandoned factory that once prepared and packaged the animals for consumption, the members of the Order of the Kaetini collated what they had taken from their Temple prior to the Ferasan raiders.

In one section, where technicians monitored equipment, one male rose and approached an elderly cloaked female. “Mistress Nvell, the Resistance has transmitted the message they wish to have broadcasted to the Motherworld. There is a data packaged attached.”

She was kneeling beside a baby shuris, feeding it grain from her paw, stroking behind its ears as its grunted happily to her. “Attach the confession from Hap-Tek of the Black Pelt Pride, and our own collected data, and then transmit to the Syphers for immediate propagation, on all channels, all frequencies. Tell them this takes priority over all else.”

“Of course. And the prisoner?”

Nvell rose to her feet again, shooing the shuris calf away with her staff. “He’s served his usefulness with us. Now he has one more job to do.”

*

In Kaijushima’s Command Bay, Kami was keeping herself distracted as best she could with the minutiae of managing their facilities here, planning on meeting representatives of the refugees’ families and their Starfleet and Militia relations for the allocation of duties, space, resources... but still silently checking the status boards for any messages, from her husband, from the search party in Sekuro, from the Kaetini.

Silence responded.

Esek... Beloved, please be safe... please keep my baby safe and come back to me...

“Mama?”

She turned, seeing Misha enter, frowning at him. “Sweetheart, why are you here? You should be with the other cubs in the classroom we’ve set up.”

The young cub strode up. “Where Papa and Baby Sreen? Where Sasha and Jhess?”

She dropped down to one knee, casting aside her consternation at his appearance to gain some comfort by taking in her son’s scent. “Papa and Sreen are in hiding. Sasha, Jhess and Captain Biggles are looking for them.”

“I go!” he declared. “I know how they smell! I track them all!”

She smiled, stroking the truculent fur on the top of his head. “I bet you could, Sweetheart. I bet you could. But you’re needed here, to help keep the civilians safe.”

He growled in protest.

She drew him into a hug, purring against him and whispering, “That’s the official story. The real reason is that I need you near me, to keep me safe, like your Papa would do. But we won’t tell anyone else, it might make me look bad, okay?”

He nodded against her head.

“Commander?”

She drew back, turned and rose, holding onto her son’s paw; the interruption came from First Mate Cserr, a butterscotch-furred female Communications Officer from a Caitian ore freighter. “What’s up? Have we heard from Sekuro?”

“Not... quite, Ma’am. Nothing from Captain Hrelle or our people there, but there’s been chatter on the Jem’Hadar channels.

They’ve... taken prisoners.”

*

Hrelle walked up onto the deck of the Highsun with the rest of the crew, Sreen strapped in her harness on his chest, looking out and sniffing the air in wonder at the endless, rolling waves of the Free Seas, watching the crew climb up the masts and check the rigging. They were still powered by the engines, and would be until they reached the best fishing areas, but it was tradition to put the sails up on the first day, a tradition that went back centuries.

“Ooooh bah wayyys!” Sreen declared happily.

He reached up and stroked the backs of her ears, his navigational instincts confirming that they were moving west-southwestward.

In the direction of Kaijushima Island...

 

TO BE CONTINUED IN... BY FIRE AND WATER