Chapter 7: By Fire and Water

 

There was no warning about the transmission. It appeared on every Vivid media channel in every province on Cait. It appeared as a message in every government, business and personal mail account, triggered to send an alert to those sections of the planet where most of the people were asleep. There hadn’t been such a mass communication on Cait since the beginning of the Occupation by the Ferasans.

The image that greeted the planet this time wasn’t Ferasan, however, but Caitian: an older male, butter-furred with a swept-back mane over his large frame, clad in basic black, his identity known and loved by tens of millions of cubs throughout the world, his expression sober and direct. “My fellow Caitians: I am Mi’Tree Shall. Many of you will know me as an actor, a performer, a Taleteller. You are used to seeing me immersed in fiction. Today, I offer you the truth.

The Ferasans have not come to us as allies, but as murderers, as thieves and plunderers and conquerors. They are the ones who slaughtered our brave males and females in the Militia and the Planetary Navy. They are the ones who have overthrown our lawful Government and installed a puppet to speak their lies. They are the ones who are killing those who voice dissent...”

*

In the Capitol’s Operation Centre, chaos reigned, as Ferasan technicians battled to shut down the global transmission, while Master Governor Melem-Adu stood in the background, caught in a battle of his own to remain composed in the presence of the insufferable Dominion liaison, the Vorta Welros, standing nearby with his Jem’Hadar lackeys.

He breathed in, fixing his steely glare on his remaining offspring, ThirdSon. “Report!”

The younger male stopped frantically moving from station to station, in order to straighten up and face him. “We’re trying to pinpoint the source of the transmission, but our efforts keep bouncing it from city to city: Illehull, Winterwane, First Landing… even here!”

“What, here in the Capitol?”

“I mean here in this facility! I mean, they’re not really here, of course, but-”

“Get back to it!” Melem-Adu snarled and looked away. Three sons he brought him to this miserable woman-worshipping world, on the most ambitious campaign in their Pride’s – in their entire people’s – history. Now, one is dead, at Melem-Adu’s own paws, for showing cowardice in public, and another is missing, leaving him with this miserable final one, as spineless as a scientist-

“Master Governor,” smarmed Welros.

Melem-Adu gritted his teeth and turned around. “What?”

The Vorta offered what could have been a sympathetic smile as he indicated the image of Mi’Tree Shall on the screens above. “You really should be doing something about this.”

Yes, Melem-Adu agreed silently. I really should rip you open and string your intestines around the room like garlands, while the cubs kick your head about for fun. “I am, Vorta. But I can assure you, their feeble efforts will be for naught.” He waved his paw at the screens. “He is calling for prey to become predators. They will not. It is not in their nature. We eliminated all those Caitians with any proper aggressive instincts when we first arrived.”

“Not all,” Welros corrected, still smiling.

I will turn you inside out. Literally inside out. “No, you are correct of course, not all. But nearly all. We will wheel out our Caitian puppet to reassure the prey that they are in good paws with us, and not to trust the lies of our enemies. You focus on bringing in Captain Hrelle, as you promised-”

“Father…”

He turned back, ready to demand a reason for the interruption… only to see the expression on ThirdSon’s face. “What is it?”

The younger male swallowed, looking shaken. “The terrorists have included data subscripts with the transmission: evidence of the real reason for the Treatment Camps, of our attacks on the Militia Camps… and... and they have a recording of Hap-Tek… confessing…”

Melem-Adu stiffened, his furless tail twitching behind him, speaking through clenched, bared teeth. “Show me.”

He strode forward with ThirdSon to one station, smelling the scent of fear from the operator sitting there, bringing up the relevant recording.

It took all of the Master Governor’s considerable willpower to remain calm as he bore witness to the sight of his battered, broken, bloodied second son filling up the screen, speaking in choked tones of the reasons behind their presence on Cait.

By the Patriarch… those animals… what have they done to you?

*

Shanos Minor, Nashea Province:

“And their accounts of a Metremia Threat to our people are false. The so-called Treatment camps are prisons, prisons to gather our fertile females and our cubs, and take them for their own exploitation.

They have taken these terrible actions because they are dying. Their hideous genetic Augmentation of long ago has now become their undoing, and infertility and deformity is rife among them. They face imminent Extinction. But rather than openly seek help in a civilised manner, they have taken this course... and they are taking our females, and our cubs, for their own, perverting the wondrous gifts of life and youth with which we are blessed...”

In their apartment, Mreia and Shau Furore sat watching the transmission, aghast at the revelation. Shau had been preparing signs for another student protest when the transmission started, but now the adolescent male stared. “Is it- Is it true?”

His mother didn’t have the answers. In the weeks since the Ferasans arrived, she had been all too prepared to believe what they said about the Caitian Militia and the Planetary Navy, no matter what her ex-husband Jhess had protested otherwise. But as more and more of their freedoms disappeared, along with many people she knew who openly spoke out against what was going on, including the senior partners of her law firm, her certainties crumbled.

She rose and retrieved the secret communicator that human Sasha Hrelle had given her and sent a signal, wishing to speak with Jhess again. After a moment, when there was no response, she hid it again, knowing from his briefing that under the circumstances, he wouldn’t always be available to respond, but would get back to her as quickly as he could.

She never thought she’d feel that longing to have her ex-husband in her life again.

*

Mroara-Lnee Shipbuilding Industries, M'Restir Province:

“I swear to you in the name of the Great Mother, on the lives of my cub and grandcubs, that I speak the truth. But the testimony of one of the Ferasans, and the evidence we have gathered to support my truth, will accompany this message.

The Ferasans have always been, and always will be, our Enemy. Do not believe them. Do not collaborate with them. Do not capitulate to them. And do not believe the lies they say now of my beloved kin-son, the celebrated Starfleet officer Captain Esek Hrelle. He’s out there now, pursued by the Enemy, who will stop at nothing to hurt him, and my most wonderful infant granddaughter Sreen....”

Jnill Mroara-Lnee stood before her office monitor, watching and listening to Mi’Tree Shall emote before the Motherworld. She had never been one for popular entertainment, and her respect for this male’s florid career had never been high. Now... now she was almost sorry she hadn’t seen him perform in one of his more serious roles-

“Enough of that!”

She switched off the screen and turned, glancing at the recurring visitor to her workplace, the Ferasan Pridemaster Ubar-Sin. As opposed to her brother Hrulish, currently propping himself up at her office bar, Ubar-Sin was a ball of agitation. “Forgive me, Pridemaster. I thought that it might have been something of some small importance.”

 “It’s nothing!” he spat. “The ranting of some perverted libertine! He’ll be dealt with in due course! Your attention should be focused on the here and now, and the promises you made! Promises you’re not keeping!”

Jnill glanced over at Hrulish, who shrugged and reached for what remained in a bottle of Saurian brandy. Not that she needed or cared for anything her younger brother might offer. She ran the company, she kept their Clan’s legacy here and in the annexes around Cait alive and well.

And she kept a pretence up with the Enemy. “I can assure you, Pridemaster, that we are doing everything in our power to fulfil our contract.”

“Then where are the transport ships? You’re behind schedule!”

Jnill steeled herself. She was not easily intimidated by others... but this was not some disgruntled customer or government bureaucrat; he would easily kill her and take over her company if he thought she was deliberately delaying the production of the transports. “Everyone is behind schedule; production and shipping throughout the Motherworld has decreased radically with the introduction of your people’s Security measures. There are shortages of food and other essentials in the stores-”

“You don’t look starving,” Ubar-Sin sneered.

“No, I’m not; I am fortunate compared to most of the population. But even my wealth can’t make factories produce interocitors and Klystron drives if the essential materials aren’t there, many of which we depended upon from off-world sources… sources your people have now cut off.”

“EXCUSES!” the Ferasan roared in her face, teeth bared, one arm raised, claws extended, ready to strike down upon her.

Jnill stood her ground.

Then, surprisingly, Hrulish overcome his usual timidity to speak up, albeit in a slurred voice. “Pridemaster, my older sister is insufferably stiff-tailed and proud about her success in business matters; I daresay the only time her nethers heat up is when she reads the quarterly financial report. I assure you she would not admit to such failings on her part if she can possibly help it.”

Ubar-Sin stared at him, grunting contemptuously, before turning back to Jnill, drawing in closer to her, his breath hot and foul on her muzzle. “Inform your workers, wherever they are, that no excuses will be accepted… and failure will be treated as an act of terrorism. And I believe it’s already clear how we deal with terrorists.”

He reached up to his transporter control and disappeared in a red quantum mist.

Jnill stepped back instinctively, as if she might have been accidentally pulled away with him, and took a moment to let her pulse slow down to a more salubrious rate.

“What a charming fellow,” Hrulish noted, pouring himself another drink.

She looked to him, having little patience with her brother in the best of times. These were not the best of times, but she had hoped that he might have appreciated the calamity that they, their company, the entire Motherworld, faced. “Why are you still hanging around?”

He stopped, seemed to regard the question seriously, before raising his glass in salute. “Well, there’s your delightful company, dear sister. And maybe I can help out in your hour of need? You used to allow me to have some small responsibilities around here, once upon a time.” He sipped a little. “Oh, those halcyon days...”

“Are your senses permanently dulled from drinking?” she exclaimed in disbelief. “Our world, our people are threatened!”

“Hyperbolize much, Jnill? Maybe you should run off and join Ptera and Mirow wherever you’ve sent them?” He sipped a little, before adding, “You did send them away, didn’t you? They wouldn’t have just disappeared without your assistance. Are they staying now with the brave and redoubtable Captain Hrelle, and his nasty little bitch human cub?”

Jnill regarded him with raw contempt. “When Ptera told me about those serpentine aliens attacking you and she and the other Caitians on the Surefoot, those years ago, I only half-believed her. Then I did my research: about the incident, and about Esek Hrelle and that human cub you despise so much... and my respect for both has only increased.

Lieutenant Hrelle nearly died saving your worthless hide.

She needn’t have bothered.

As for the location of my daughter and bond-son, I can honestly say I have no idea where they are, or who they are with. All I know is that they are most fortunate, for not having you in their presence.

Leave these grounds.”

Hrulish blinked. “Excuse me?”

She stepped up to him, took the glass from his paw and carried it to the cabinet. “Leave these grounds and don’t come back. Go home, pack your bags, take the company flyer to Kamar-Taj, get yourself a suite at the White Shore, and spend the rest of the Occupation losing at the casinos, bedding prettytails, or just drinking yourself into Oblivion.

Do what you like. I don’t care. I am fed up with being constantly reminded that I am related to such an utterly disgraceful excuse for a Caitian as you.”

Her brother stared in abject disbelief, before tugging at the lapels of his jacket. “Who in the Seven Hells do you think you are, Jnill? I’m part of this clan! I have as much right to be here as you! You can’t just order me about! How dare you, you withered old kussik?”

In response, she stared back and called out, “Shikor!”

Immediately, her Chief of Security, a large-framed, ash-furred female, entered from the adjacent reception area, eyeing Hrulish suspiciously. “Ma’am?”

“With immediate effect, my brother is banned from the company premises. Stick him in an autocar and send him home, he has a flyer to catch.” She glared at him. “If you’re there when I get home tonight, Shikor will take you someplace less pleasant than Kamar-Taj. Someplace no one will ever find you.”

Shikor grunted and stepped forward, cracking the knuckles in her paws. “Are you going to make this difficult, Sir? Please say Yes.”

He didn’t, to Shikor’s visible disappointment. Alone again, Jnill moved to her desk, settling down behind it, feeling a measure of comfort in the feel of the sablewood frame. It had been part of the furniture here since her great-grandparents’ day.

It would no doubt outlast her, too. Once again she wished she had accepted Kami’s offer to accompany their cubs with her into hiding... especially with Ptera so close to giving birth to Jnill’s grandcub-

No. Had she been so selfish, someone else would have been drafted in to assist the Enemy. She may not have a rifle in her hand, but she can still do what she can to help the Resistance.

*

Paramount Vivid Studios, Deepmere, Hsova Province:

“We cannot look to outsiders, or to our warriors, to shoulder the burden of ensuring our liberation. We must depend upon each other. We are all of us responsible for the salvation of our Motherworld and our own people.

Organise. Protest. Resist. Protect each other. Know who the Enemy is.

The Enemy has ships, weaponry, technology. They may seem invincible.

But they are not.

For we are strong, and we are brave, and we are fierce. And though we would rightly always prefer peace and cooperation, that is not an option for us now, for it will only lead to our deaths. And what good is peace and capitulation when we are dead?

We are at War. But this War is far, far from over. Whatever happens, the flame of resistance must not be extinguished, and will not be extinguished.

May the Great Mother watch over all of us.”

The collective crew of the studio had gathered around the screen, watching, listening, ignoring the protests of the Ferasans who had repeatedly called for them to disregard the unauthorised message and return to the work at hand.

Studio Manager Horash folded his arms. “Mi’Tree was looking pale. I’d fire whoever was lighting him.”

Sitting at the console before them, the cameraman N’Remma leaned back. “Is that all you have to say? What about what he told us? Look at the data accompanying it!”

The other male nodded absently, stunned by the horrors it warned them about. “The Ferasans wouldn’t be so ruthless- so murderous-“

“And you think their crap about a Militia conspiracy and a Metremia Threat is more believable?”

Horash looked ready to respond, before shaking his head. “We- We have to get back to work. We broadcast in five minutes.”

Standing nearby, Stori, Mi’Tree’s former PA, just stood, lost in a miasma of thoughts. In the weeks since the arrival of the Ferasans and the disappearance of Mi’Tree, they had been kept employed by the Occupying forces, in the production of their own twisted version of the classic Vivid show The Taleteller... imparting lessons no right-minded Caitian parent would ever want their cubs to learn.

But now, all he could think about was his sister C’Ira. She had been informed four days ago that she was one of those infected by Metremia, and had willingly boarded one of their flyers to go off to their treatment camps. They hadn’t been able to contact her since then, excusing the silence as issues of security and protection.

But if Mi’Tree was right... if they had taken her to make her breed for them... Seven Hells, please, please don’t be right-

“Stori?” N’Remma looked up at him. “They need you on the studio floor.”

The young male moved like the puppet that sat on the lap of the Ferasan in the chair on the studio floor – Mi’Tree’s chair, and you have no right to take his place you Ferasan bastard – as he took his place and the crew began their work.

And the Ferasan Taleteller sat there with his Ferasan puppet Faro, smiling at the cameras, his sabreteeth reflecting the studio lights above. “Hello once again, Cubs of Cait. Have you been strong today? I hope so.” He looked down at Faro. “What do we say about strength?”

The puppet’s head moved to face the camera, the mouth opening to announce, “Strength is Good. Strength is Power.”

“That’s right,” the new Taleteller agreed. “Strength is what makes you better than the cowards and the weaklings around you-“

A crewmember passed in front of the camera on his way out of the studio.

It threw the Taleteller, but only for a moment. “N-Now, today I’m going to tell you a new Faro story, about how Faro fought and killed his enemies in the Mountains of Miavar, in order to conquer their lands and-“

Someone else walked in front of the camera... pushing the camera off of its view of the set as she too went.

Lights, microphones and other equipment in the studio began shutting down.

Horash looked around, as more Caitians walked out, and the Ferasan Studio Liaison demanded, “Stop this! Where are you going? GET BACK TO WORK!” He looked to Horash. “Stop them! Now! DO SOMETHING, FOOL!”

Horash stared back at them... and joined those leaving.

Stori looked at them all... then dropped his PADD to the floor and marched out with everyone else, as the studio went completely black.

*

Kaetini Provisional Headquarters, Mrell Province:

Several thousand kilometres west across the Free Seas, Mistress Nvell, the Head of the Kaetini Order, nodded with approval at the end of the transmission, ordering, “Send a message to the Syphers, tell them to distribute that again when they can, maybe even try to get it off-world. The Ferasans will do their best to wipe it from the Cynet, and we want to make sure no one forgets it.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The elderly female regarded her aide. “You have a problem with this, Wserin?”

The younger, cream-furred male turned and looked up from his station. “People will die resisting the Enemy.”

“They’re dying now, cooperating with them.” She turned and hobbled away, unwilling to discuss or contemplate it further, holding onto her staff for support as she ventured out into a corridor, and then to a smaller, guarded, featureless room, entering to stand before the manacled, prone figure on the bare stone floor. She held back her visible reaction to the mephitic scents here, given the circumstances. “I thought you should know: our transmission has gone global. Including your confession. The tide will begin to turn in our favour.”

Hap-Tek, second son to Melem-Adu of the Black Pelt Pride, lifted his head, albeit with some difficulty, his eyes sealed shut with swollen flesh wounds, one sabretooth broken, his fur scraped and burned and scalded in many places. He was a pitiful shadow of his former imperious self... but he still retained a sliver of arrogance, even in the remnants of his voice as he snarled, “N-No, Caitian... y-your people are weak... they will c-cringe and scrape and d-do anything but stand up to us...”

“Well, you know all about cringing, don’t you? You sang like a bird under the right persuasion. I understand your older brother was killed by your father for betraying the cause. What will he do to you?”

Hap-Tek bared what remained of his teeth. “M-My brother... cowed in public before a human female. M-My father will... will see what was done to break me... he will t-take me back into the f-fold...”

“Maybe,” Nvell conceded.

A ragged laugh escaped his muzzle. “I- I will recover... and I will return, and skin you alive...”

The older female regarded him, and then replied simply, “No. You won’t...”

*

Kaijushima Island:

“Well?” Kami Hrelle asked.

Lt Mori worked the controls at his station. “Growing reports of impromptu walkouts from workplaces, shutdowns of mass transit networks, demonstrations and protests outside of local government offices and Constabulary stations. Ferasan traffic on the subject is increasing, Commander.”

Kami nodded. “It’s a start.”

“It’s a start of more trouble.” Nearby, Agent Nenjo, last surviving operative of the Caitian Secret Service, rose to her feet, her ebon tail twitching in agitation behind her. “We’ve already experienced shortages of food and other essentials in stores throughout Cait following the Occupation, transport disruptions, and the disappearance of thousands of people, many in key positions of support and authority. Open civil disobedience is going to make a bad situation worse.”

Kami bit back her initial retort, recognising how much of her anxiety and anger was driven by the current situation involving her missing husband and daughter, and now Sasha and the others who went to Sekuro to find them. Kami was in charge here until their return – and they will all return, she assured herself – and people were depending on her... and not just those who sought refuge on the Island. “That’s a risk we have to take... which is why we have included practical suggestions on what people can do to commits acts of civil disobedience, without adversely affecting the infrastructure of our society or put themselves at unnecessary risk.”

Nenjo folded her arms. “It still won’t be enough. They will force their hand, up the stakes.”

The older female stared back. Nenjo had been overly critical from the very beginning, no doubt driven by the personal losses she suffered at the hands of the Ferasans. Kami understood that, having lost her mother Ma’Sala at the very start, out in space. Oh Mama, I wish you were here to guide me, if not take over completely. “You’re right, Agent. So... if you were the Enemy, what would you do?”

The question seemed to catch the coal-furred female by surprise, and her arms dropped again. “Well... they would now have to expect a more open resistance to their plans from the population. They’ll have to coordinate efforts, put more troops on the ground, maybe take over key industries that they need to complete their work. They might even bring in civilian Ferasans to undertake support operations we’re not doing anymore.“

“And we can monitor their communications traffic and coordinate strategic countermeasures?”

Nenjo eyed her. “We’re limited by our need to restrict our own communications and not be detected by them. If they ever pinpoint us-“

“Then it would be a tremendous advantage to find a way to keep our communications from being detected by the Enemy networks. Work on that.”

The younger female blinked. “Excuse me? ‘Work on that’? You think it’s as simple as that, Counselor?”

“It’s ‘Commander Hrelle’ in here, Agent Nenjo, not ‘Counselor’. And no, I don’t think it’s as simple as that; if it was, it would have been done a long time ago. But my time on the Surefoot has taught me that the best advantage to have is the one your opponent doesn’t know you have. Take what resources you need, work on a plan and come back to me with it for approval.”

“And what about the search for the Deep Keep base? Or launching an actual attack on the Enemy itself?”

“We’re stretched enough as it is; we have enough to keep ourselves busy.” Kami stared at her a moment longer, before adding, “This is the part where you go off and prove you’re not all roar and no bite.”

Nenjo stared back defiantly... but only for a second, and then turned away.

So did Kami, her head pounding- and nearly ran into her father Bneea. “Sorry, Papa.”

He peered at her through his spectacles, before slipping an arm around her. “Come along, it’s late, you need rest.”

She tried to pull away. “I can’t go- Esek- Sreen- Sasha and the others-“

He tightened his hold on her. “You’ll be alerted if word comes from any of them. In the meantime, you should do what Ma’Sala used to call The Walk.”

Despite her anxiety, she was curious enough to ask, “Excuse me?”

He smiled, and seemed to recall her exact words, even imitating her gravelly voice, “‘Sometimes, you gotta walk around your ship, tail high, and let your people catch your most confident scent, and remind them you’re in charge and you’ll get them out of whatever shit you find yourselves in. And then along the way, you work out how to do that’.” He squeezed his paw on her upper arm. “Come on, we’ll get you something to eat, and we might just catch your son telling the other cubs in the Recreation Bay about the fierce battle he fought with a pack of Ferasans in our home.”

She shuddered, holding onto her father. “Don’t, please. I can still see him, standing up to them, the way he did to the Jem’Hadar who boarded the Surefoot. Not realising either time how much danger he was in.”

“He’s brave. It’s in his blood.”

“He’s just turned six. I want him to reach adulthood – Seven Hells, I want him to reach puberty – without shedding any more of that blood.”

*

Port of Sekuro, Mnara Province:

Sasha Hrelle sat on the bare floor of the tiny apartment, next to the only window, one that looked out on the darkened square below, and peered out from behind the curtain. It was late in the evening, the newly-imposed curfew having cleared the streets of the southern city of all but Jem’Hadar, Ferasans and members of the Caitian Constabulary press-ganged into assisting them in the search for her father and sister... and now, herself and her friends Jhess and Biggles who had come looking for them, before getting separated, out of contact with each other or the Island.

She shivered, and she knew it was more from the comedown from the stimulants she had taken before they had arrived than it was the hot, humid weather in this part of Cait. She was exhausted, but still felt coiled, especially when she picked up the occasional sounds of disruptor fire from other parts of the city.

Where in the Seven Hells are you, Dad? Are you lying dead in some back alley somewhere, Sreen crying beside you, abandoned, unreachable-

She reached for her phaser and sword as she heard noises outside the door, before watching the door handle turn and the door open, a silhouette filling the frame before quickly entering and shutting it again. “What are you doing over there? You haven’t touched your food.”

Sasha glanced back out the window, recognising her saviour, the Constable who had grabbed her in the Market before the Jem’Hadar had cornered and captured her, and brought her here. “I thought you were going to bring my friends here.”

He grunted as he moved to the table. “No, you tried to convince me to do that, and I explained – more than once – that it wouldn’t be safe for anyone to move before morning. But I’ve seen them, talked to them, they’re fine, and are asking about you.” He was a middle-aged male, stocky, with what looked in the dim light to be mustard-coloured fur and a blunt snout. He lifted up the plate in one paw and brought it over to her, waving it under her nose. “Come on. Unless humans don’t eat seafood?”

“Can’t speak for all humans, but there’s little that this human doesn’t eat.” Grudgingly she accepted the plate, sniffing; they were called guthiks, some sort of scallops, fried in buttery sauce flavoured with a garlic-like herb. It had grown cold, but as she took a curled piece up with her fingers and ate, she quickened and started on the rest of them with gusto. “Thanks. You shouldn’t have gone to any trouble.”

“I didn’t. My parents run the restaurant at the other end of the Square. They always have a takeaway ready for me to bring back to my apartment at the end of every shift.” He began removing his Constabulary jacket in the darkness. “Do you know where your father and sister might be hiding? We can then get you all out of the city.”

Sasha set aside the now-emptied plate and glanced out the window again. “No, like I said before, we’re all out of contact with each other. I can only hope he’s been as lucky as my friends and I.” She looked back at him. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you help me?”

The Constable shrugged. “Well... don’t tell anyone else, but that message that went out around the world today from your grandfather was... inspirational. Even for a soul as cynical as mine. I don’t know anything about you, Lieutenant, but I know the Resistance needs you.”

She nodded gratefully. “Well then, thanks for getting over your cynical side. I need to get a message back to our Headquarters. I discarded my communicator to keep from being tracked by it, but I can still pass on a message via landline.”

“There’s a secure line at our Station; give me the details and I’ll pass on the message. Do you want to have a lie down now? You can use my bed, I’ll stay up and keep watch. Give me your weapons, I’ll keep them here.”

She shook her head, wincing at the throbbing inside her skull, no doubt the after-effects of the last of her stimulants that Jhess had warned her about. But something else was bothering her. Something about... Grandpa Mi’Tree. Something-

He said he knew nothing about her, but still knew that Mi’Tree was her grandfather.

She looked up again, her heart and head pounding. “My friends- you said you saw them?”

“Yes, why?”

“One of them is female, pregnant- she shouldn’t have come out with us, and I’m worried about her condition.“

The Constable grunted again. “She looked fine when I saw her.”

Sasha reached for her phaser, fumbling, her limbs tingling and unable to work properly, as he rushed up, kicking her weapons away from her, even as she slipped into a drugged unconsciousness, his last words echoing dully in her head. “No, no, Ape. You won’t need these now...”

*

Fishing Vessel Highsun, Free Seas:

Captain Esek Hrelle’s first full day onboard the seagoing ship reminded him how much he had grown soft sitting on his rear onboard a starship, no matter the personal dangers he infrequently faced. No matter how artificially active he kept himself, that was still nothing compared to the arduous nature of being a member of a fishing crew on the Motherworld.

It didn’t help that he had stayed up late the night before, trying to settle Sreen and trying to fix his communicator – neither with any real success, leaving daughter and father cranky. And in Hrelle’s case, he was also suffused with guilt, guilt at leaving his wife and the mother of their cub worried sick for not knowing they were alive and well.

Captain Sallah had him up early, leaving Sreen with his more agreeable sister Neshama, while putting Hrelle through his paces, testing his knowledge and ability in various roles around the Highsun. Hrelle expected it, being an unknown, and he had still doubted Hrelle’s claims of having grown up among fisherfolk.

But Hrelle was still determined to prove himself... if only to keep the other male from turning around and heading back, or alerting the authorities back at port.

And Hrelle found himself reacquainting with masts and ropes, pulleys and sails, with preparing the nets and climbing the masts to watch the squalls on the rolling blue waves, using his eyes to confirm what the ship’s underwater scanners, one of the few concessions to modern technology, had already picked up. And he amazed himself with how easily he fell back into what his Papa had taught him almost half a century ago: “SLEEKFISH! SLEEKFISH AHOY!”

He descended and joined the rest of the crew, swinging out the trawling nets to the starboard side as the Highsun banked in the direction of the school... and someone started a shanty:

“It's a damn tough life full of toil and strife

We ship crews undergo.

And you don't give a damn when the day is done

How hard the winds did blow.

For we're homeward bound to the Clanland ground

With a good ship, taut and free

And we don't give a damn when we drink our fill

In the hills of Tau'Maree.

Heading down to Tau'Maree, me lads

Rolling down to Tau'Maree

We're homeward bound to the Clanland ground

Heading down to Tau'Maree!”

It was a good haul, and he worked just as hard as the rest of them in getting them down into the hold and on ice, before starting on the cleanup afterwards. He couldn’t recall feeling so physically fatigued in such a long time.

Or hungry, and when he was reunited once more with Sreen (his daughter screwing up her snout and blowing a raspberry at the smell of the fish on him) for the evening meal of curried scybdils, he devoured his share and was up for seconds, while Sreen sat beside him in a chair Neshama had apparently modified for her tiny frame, and had a pureed, non-spicy version of the curry. “Thank you for all you’ve done for her, Nesh. I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

The female, Captain Sallah’s sister, came around the table to tickle under the infant’s muzzle. “Trouble? She’s better mannered and better company than any of you fetid fishbaits! And she has a lovely voice, singing and telling me stories.”

Sreen, grasping her spoon in her stubby hand, responded to the attention with an enthusiastic, “Gabadoo! Eesh a mally!”

That triggered laughter among the crew, and one of the younger crewmembers to joke, “That’s a better tale than Gershom told about those Giant Bluefishes he spotted!”

More laughter, as the Second Mate set down his fork, his fur bristling. “It’s true! I saw them!” He looked to Hrelle. “On our last trip out! They were as big as Caitian adults, smooth dark blue and grey hides, with beaks for noses, dorsal fins and flat tails like scups, and they were leaping out of the water in formation as they followed us one morning, laughing to themselves!”

The others laughed again in reply, but Hrelle frowned in thought. “It sounds like you’re describing dolphins.”

That quieted them down, prompting Sallah to grumble, “What the fuck are dolphins- Owww!”

He hissed as Neshama smacked the back of his head when she passed him, pointing to Sreen. “There’s a cub at the table, Chum Mouth!”

Sreen shook a reproving spoon at him for emphasis. “Bab Boi!”

As they settled down again, Hrelle smiled at the camaraderie, explaining further, “Dolphins – well, Delphines are the preferred name – are aquatic mammals originally from Earth. They’re sentient, with incredible sonic echolocation abilities, and a sort of collective telepathy that transmits through water.” He scooped up another spoonful. “I met one once, a Starfleet Counselor, who helped myself and my crew...”

His voice trailed away as he noticed everyone else at the table – except for Sallah -- staring at him in open astonishment.

It took Gershom to break the moment. “You were in Starfleet, Mr Hanzō?”

Others took it up. “You had a crew?”

“You were in space?”

Hrelle breathed in, feeling Sallah’s eyes on him, waiting for him to make the next move. He hadn’t wanted to stir up trouble while onboard... but his night and day in the presence of these hard-working, honest, engaging people had augmented his respect for their character and the work they do.

He didn’t want to lie to them. “I am in Starfleet. I captain a starship.”

They looked to each other, one of the older crew now pointing out, “You- You said you grew up with the fisherfolk in R’Trerah!”

“I did,” Hrelle confirmed. “I worked on my Papa’s boat until I was seventeen, when I joined Starfleet Academy.”

“You’re a captain,” Gershom echoed breathlessly, glancing at Sallah. “W-What are you doing onboard the Highsun?”

“He’s working,” Sallah snapped, gaining their attention once more as he rose to his feet. “Same as the rest of us. Mr Hanzō, would you mind accompanying me to my cabin? I’d like a word with you alone.”

“Of course.” He nuzzled against Sreen. “Be right back, Sweetheart.”

“I’ll come along,” Neshama announced.

Sallah glared at his sister. “You’re not welcome.”

She sided up to Hrelle and slipped an arm around his as she guided him out of the common room. “And yet, I’m still coming... about the only time you’ll hear a female say that.”

*

Sallah barely contained his fury when he closed the door behind him and moved behind his desk. “I told you I wasn’t interested in who you were or what you were doing on land, Mister Hanzō. I expected you to keep to that, and not fill my crew’s heads with useless bilge.”

“I was asked a question, Captain. I answered truthfully, because I’ve come to respect them enough to tell them the truth. And if they ask me the reason for being here, I’ll tell them.”

Neshama literally stepped between the two males, folding her arms and glancing between the two of them. “What’s going on?” She focused on Hrelle. “Why are you here? Who are you, really?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sallah snapped. “It’s Groundpounder business.”

“It’s everyone’s business!” Hrelle countered angrily at him, over Neshama’s shoulder. “The Motherworld has been invaded, occupied! Hundreds of thousands have died already, and so many more are following!”

He looked to Neshama. “I’m Captain Esek Hrelle, of the Starfleet ambulance ship Surefoot. My family and I were on shore leave on Cait when the Ferasans and Jem’Hadar invaded, when they wiped out the Militia and the Planetary Navy.

Now I’m helping to organise the Resistance while trying to get my family to safety; in the course of this, my daughter and I ended up alone in Sekuro. I boarded the Highsun to get away from them, and to try to call to arrange a rendezvous out at sea.” He looked between them. “You are aware of what’s been happening to our Motherworld these last few weeks?”

“Well, of course,” she replied archly. “But all of that’s happening up north, in the big cities in Mrestir and M’Mirl.”

“It’s happening everywhere.”

“Not onboard this ship,” Sallah informed him defiantly. “You’re not conscripting us into your fight.”

Hrelle bit back his initial reply, forced himself to calm down before he responded. “I’m not trying to, Captain. I’m just trying to make contact with my people, who can come collect my daughter and I out on the Free Seas. The Enemy will never know you helped me.” He frowned. “But I’ve had some problems with my communicator on our secure frequencies.”

“Can our ship’s radio help you?” Nashema suggested.

Sallah hissed at her. “Didn’t I say we’re not getting involved in his fight?”

His sister never looked back at him. “Yeah, I heard, I just didn’t care.” She nodded to Hrelle. “Well?”

He looked between them. “If I can get a call to our landline Exchange, pass on a coded message-“

Neshama nodded. “Let’s go to the Bridge.”

Sallah reached for her arm. “Nesh, I order you-“

Quickly she raised her arm, her teeth bared. “Don’t you dare try and order me around, Little Brother! I’ll have your balls for breakfast! He has an infant to care for!”

Hrelle stepped back, scenting the growing hostility and anxiety between them... and knowing that he was the cause of it, or at least the trigger for it.

Sallah glared back at her. “Remnan-“

“I don’t want to talk about him!” she growled, eyes fixing on Hrelle. “Let’s go.”

Hrelle complied, keeping back as they moved through the narrow, winding corridors up to the deck. Here, the sky was black with evening, heavily-dotted with a million stars unencumbered by the light pollution of major metropolitan areas, and waves crashing onto the hull as the Highsun continued westward, deeper into the heavier fishing areas of the Free Seas. The air was balmy, salty.

Neshama stopped at the foot of the steps up to the Bridge, her tail twitching agitatedly, her paws gripping the spray-dotted rails, as if staring at one of the steps.

Hrelle stared at the back of her, until she asked, still not looking at him, “Mr Hanzō... or do I call you ‘Captain Hrelle’?”

He swallowed. “’Esek’ is fine. I never set out to deceive you or anyone else onboard, or to get anyone else involved.”

Neshama continued to keep her back to him, before finally turning around. “I believe you... Esek. No male can be bad with a cub as sweet as yours.” She breathed out. “We had a younger brother, Remnan, worked the ship with us since we were all cubs. He went off twelve years ago and joined the Planetary Navy when the last Ferasan War fired up. We told him not to, tried to tell him what happened out in space wasn’t our business. But Remnan was as stubborn as... well, the rest of us.

He bought into the propaganda, ended up on some on shitty little outpost... and was killed. There wasn’t even anything left of him to ship home.”

Hrelle’s heart sank. “I’m sorry, Nesh. There’s nothing I can say that would take away the pain of that loss to you and the rest of your family. But I do know that without the sacrifices of the Planetary Navy and the Militia out on the colonies, the Ferasans could have swept in and attacked the Motherworld.”

Her expression tightened. “You mean, like they’ve just done now? So really, Remnan and all the others who died twelve years ago died for nothing? Nice to know.” She turned and ascended the steep steps to the Bridge, Hrelle following, unable to really respond to her.

She sent the crewman on duty on the Bridge out to get his evening meal, before working the radio, frowning as she reported, “Something’s wrong. I’m not getting any of the official or private channels, no ship chatter. Just static. We just had this set checked before we set out.”

He stepped up to it now, running diagnostics. “It’s not your radio. The Jem’Hadar are flooding all the main local bandwidths with interference.”

“What? Are you sure?”

He nodded absently as he ran further checks. “There’s no contact with Sekuro, not now, not while they’re still looking for me there.”

“Seven Hells- what if we had some emergency onboard and had to call for an airlift?”

“Our health and safety isn’t high on their priorities...” He moved to the Navigation table, examining the charts and the electronic equivalent on the adjacent panel. “Is this your projected route?”

Neshama drew up to him. “Yes. The ships of the Free Fleet parcel out the territories at the start of each season. Why?”

Hrelle breathed out, indicating a position on the chart. “Do you think you can convince your brother to divert the Highsun along this route for a couple of days?”

She peered at where he pointed. “There? Why? The only thing out there is Kaijushima Island Reserve, it’s a Restricted Area-“ Then she looked up at him. “Is that where your people are hiding out?”

“My communicator still functions on the shorter bands. If I can get within a thousand kilometres of the island, I can signal them without being detected by the Enemy.”

She regarded him, her furred brow furrowing, before taking over the navigational panel, keying in a new route. “We’ll be there in three days.”

“What about your brother?”

“I’ll deal with him. But I suggest you keep yourself as useful as you’ve already done, so he has no further gripe with you.” Her expression softened. “He’s not all that bad. He still feels anger... and guilt... over our brother, and feels he has to shoulder the burdens of everything himself, like a Big Growling Male. Bet there’s some of that in you, too.”

Despite himself, Hrelle smirked. “Are you sure you’re not in communication with my wife?”

*

Capitol Building:

Melem-Adu had promised the next one to disturb his sleep would end up a rug on his floor; the underling sent to wake him made sure he blurted out the reason for the disturbance.

Melem-Adu forgot his promise as he dressed quickly and rushed back into the Operations Centre, hoping that the wretched slug Welros would be elsewhere.

But he was there, smiling inanely as always. And fuck you too, you little powder-skinned mollusc. But the Ferasan focused on the image filling the main screen, swallowing as much of his pride as he could, as he bowed before it. “Highest, this is an unexpected surprise!”

The image was that of an older male, imperiously clad in rich multicoloured furs and armour plating, his fur impeccable, a diamond stud fixed ostentatiously at the base of his right sabretooth, and the voice was like claws raked across slate. “And no doubt an unwanted one in your estimation, pup. And in mine: I entrusted you to carry out the Occupation smoothly and without incident. Now I hear of open rebellion, terrorism, mass murder of our people! What is going on there?”

You didn’t ‘entrust’ me with Governership of this misbegotten rock, Melem-Adu told himself acidly. I forced your paw, you wizened old skeleton, by holding the keys to destroying the Caitian defences. “It’s nothing, Highest. A few stray Caitian Starfleet officers stirring a little trouble.”

The older male bared his teeth. “You make them sound insignificant! I saw the recordings of Captain Esek Hrelle, single-pawedly slaughtering the Thousand Scars Pride two days ago! Then there’s his Tailless Cub, who did the same to the Black Talon Pride in the Legara Minor System two years ago! Who knows how many of his vicious family are out there now, murdering our people, stirring up dissent among the Caitians?”

Melem-Adu bit back his anger and chagrin – again – and straightened himself up further. Yes, you definitely have spies here, updating you on our every move... and every failure... “Highest, we have destroyed their base of operations, and scattered them to the four corners of Cait. Now it’s just a matter of tracking them down, executing them and making them an example to the rest of the Prey.

The Caitians are meek and subservient by nature, as befits an inferior race that allows women to rise about their station.” He indicated Welros. “Our Dominion allies are even now mere moments away from capturing Captain Hrelle. We will have this matter settled before you know it, trust me.”

“That’s just it... I don’t. Thus, I have already dispatched from the Fatherworld someone who can achieve what you obviously cannot: my Hunter Prime.”

Melem-Adu blinked and suppressed a shudder, his pulse racing even further with the news. The Patriarch’s own Hunter, Tracker... and Executioner? Coming here? Seven Hells... “There’s... There’s no need to involve the Hunter Prime, Highest.”

“He is halfway there now. He will deal with these Starfleet scum... and you will give him your utmost cooperation. When can we expect the first shipment of females and cubs to us?”

“A... matter of weeks, Highest. We have over a quarter-million subjects ready, tested, prepared and isolated in camps across the planet, the Transport Fleet is in the final stages of construction.”

“And the females’ genetic compatibility to carry our progeny?”

“That’s... still being examined.”

“Then you had best be prepared to collect more infants. They can be cosmetically altered, and raised in our image. We may end up keeping that world as a breeding colony, taking their infants as and when required.” The Patriarch glared down at him. “The fate of our people rests with you, Melem-Adu. Do not fail us.”

He drew back. “Highest, I can assure you-“

But the Patriarch ended his side of the transmission, leaving the Operations Centre in stunned silence.

Until Welros offered his always-unsolicited opinion. “Well, I must say, Master Governor, you are a bold one.”

Melem-Adu ground his teeth, desperate for some spirits and a couple of females to take his frustrations out upon. He faced the Vorta now. “What in the Seven Hells are you blathering about?”

Welros glanced at the Jem’Hadar guards eternally flanking him, as if they were in on the opinion. “Well, it takes a certain amount of nerve to lie so brazenly to your Supreme Authority.”

Melem-Adu let his claws pop out as he strode up slowly to the Dominion liaison. “You call me a liar, before my son? My people?”

Welros affected a dramatically suffering expression now. “Oh, no offence was intended, I can assure you. But I can only point out the truth: the Caitians’ civil disobedience is rising, the completion of the transport ships has been delayed further, and you are still nowhere near capturing or killing Captain Hrelle and his terrorists.”

The Ferasan bared his teeth... even as he acknowledged the Jem’Hadar watching him, tightening their hold on their weapons as he drew closer to the object of their protection. “The Caitians will mewl over what they have learned – those few who choose to even believe it, of course – but they will do little more.

Any disquiet felt by my people over a delay in the transports arriving will soon dispel when they see the females and the offspring we finally send them.

As for Hrelle...” He sneered without fear at the Jem’Hadar. “These manufactured monstrosities of yours were tasked with his apprehension... and despite their vaunted reputation, they have failed. Miserably! If these are your Founders’ soldiers, then perhaps they’re not the Gods you think they are!”

Welros’ default simper seemed to tighten now at the open insults. “The Jem’Hadar are the most feared combatants in the Gamma Quadrant, Master Governor, and their reputation is quickly reaching across the Alpha Quadrant as well.” Now he stepped forward, fixing his purple-eyed gaze up at the Ferasan. “And you would do very well to curb your anger, the next time you wish to insult the most glorious Founders of the Dominion.”

Then he departed, the Jem’Hadar following... after shooting murderous glares at Melem-Adu from their beady eyes.

He hissed at their departure. Go back to the test tubes where you were grown like bacteria and rot, you miserable excuses for real life...

*

Kami had eaten, slept (with her fathers and son in the same quarters for their scent and company), awakened, showered and ate once more, ready to meet with Nenjo once more, her lingering anxiety over the present crisis and the lack of news on Esek, Sreen, Sasha and the others’ fates still keeping her on edge. But she was determined to keep herself distracted... and to keep the others deceived into thinking she could command in her husband’s absence. “Tell me what you’ve got for us, Agent Nenjo.”

The younger, black-furred female turned to the nearest Tactical display, which presented a map of a section of Cait that Kami didn’t immediately recognise. “This is the Lowmere Communications Hub in the Eastern Pakui Desert, four hundred kilometres northeast of Sekuro. It’s an automated station that has seen recent Ferasan activity; we believe they are using it to supplement their Global Communications Network.”

Next to Kami, Lt Mori peered at the display. “If we sabotaged the facility-“

“They would shut it down and reroute to other hubs,” Nenjo replied. “Better to let them continue to use it, while I slip in and plant an algorithm that will cloak our own communications from their detection, but still let us monitor theirs freely.”

“Why there?” Kami asked. “And not somewhere else?”

“Because we picked up word that the Ferasan troops stationed there have been rerouted to Sekuro to help in the search for Captain Hrelle. And one of the available Skycats can ferry me there in their flyer, using a false Ferasan identity beam; the Skycats, of course, will be familiar with the Pakui Province.”

Kami nodded thoughtfully; it seemed like a sound plan. “Can your algorithms accomplish that much?”

“Yes, Commander. Professor S’Li left a series of specific-“

“Wait, wait- Rmolo S’Li? My great-grandfather? He was a Professor of Exolinguistics and Phonology at the University of Shanos Major!”

The younger female seemed bemused by Kami’s response. “Forgive me, Commander, but he was much more than that. In his time, he served as a civilian communications specialist for the Planetary Navy and Starfleet, a cryptography specialist for the Caitian Secret Service... and as I understand it, he was also a member of the Kaetini Order.”

She was taken aback by the revelation. She remembered Great Grandpa Rmolo, of course; he had been charming, kind, funny, and despite his advanced age and dotage, maintained a keen intellect. To hear of his alleged involvement with the Secret Service or the Kaetini, she wondered if Mama knew.

Well, of course Mama knew; Mama knew everything. But still... “Whatever my great-grandfather’s skills when he was alive, his work is at least fifty years old. It can’t be of any use to us now.”

Nenjo regarded her thoughtfully. “Commander... your great-grandfather was a genius. He created algorithms – to translate the untranslatable, to hide and encrypt transmissions – that still stand the test of time, algorithms that Starfleet Intelligence, even Section 31 would give their right paws to have. And much of what he accomplished inspired your mother to take on the mantle of the head of the Mother’s Claws. You should be proud of your family’s accomplishments.”

Kami stared back, surprised at the unprecedented level of genuine respect the younger female was displaying... which she also acknowledged could just be respect for Kami’s elders rather than for Kami herself. “I am, thank you. And I hope to maintain the high standards they have set. Tell me more about this mission: risk factors, duration, resources required. And let’s be quick; I have a security inspection to make in an hour’s time...”

*

Sasha fought the black sluggishness and pain inside her skull, using her Starfleet training to push herself towards consciousness. She kept as still as she could, her eyes closed, in case she was being watched, and recalled the last memories she had: she had suspected the Constable had been lying to her, and tricked him into revealing it, but too late realised she had been drugged. And now...

Now, she was lying on her left side, and as she kept her eyes closed and her movements to a minimum in case she was being watched, she determined her arms were bound behind her, with something metallic wrapped around her wrists, and something wrapped tightly around her torso, but her legs were free at least. She was on a wooden floor, and there was a smell of beer, cleaning fluid, a smoky substance that might have been repaired equipment-

“I know you’re awake,” announced a familiar, if unwelcome voice. “Don’t make any sudden movements.”

She opened her eyes, blinking in the dim light. She found herself in what looked like a narrow booth, with a long control panel beneath a tilted, tinted window, and several chairs on wheels lining it.

And the Constable who had seemingly rescued her sat in the last chair nearest what appeared to be the only door in or out. He was leaning back, the heels of his boots on the edge of the control panel, and her Kaetini sword was in his paws as he examined the black blade, never looking over at her. “I was expecting you to stay knocked out for another six hours at least, but then I had to guess at the amount of sedative to knock out an alien.”

Sasha’s mouth was dry, her tongue like sandpaper, even as her head felt like a phaser grenade had gone off inside it. She struggled to try and sit up... seeing that some sort of harness was strapped to her waist, the straps converging on a circular disc pressed against her breastbone. “What the Hell have you put on me?”

He didn’t answer, holding the sword by the handle and pressing the pointed tip against the window... and then laughing as it passed through the material, as if nothing was there. He set it down and examined the window, barely able to discern the molecular. “Mother’s Cubs, super-thin, extra-strong... you know, there’s a Kaetini here in Sekuro, a doddery old bastard content to run a shitty little souvenir shop in the Eastern District. He’s got one of these swords. Why doesn’t he sell it and go live the High Life?”

“If you have to ask that,” she told him. “Then you don’t understand what it means to be Kaetini. What’s going on? Where am I? Why are you doing this to me?” She helped herself up into a sitting position, her back against the nearest wall... and her hands out of his view. She examined herself; her holosuit unit and other spy gadgets were missing. She stomped her boots on the floor. “Answer me, Goddammit!”

“I told you not to make any sudden movements. That’s an infernite charge.”

She froze, looking down again at the disc, her pulse rate doubling. “Infernite?”

The Constable made an affirmative noise. “Confiscated it from an arsonist’s residence two months ago, and ‘forgot’ to sign it in to the Evidence Lockers. Don’t know why I kept it... glad I did now, though.”

She forced her fear back down into her like bile, fought to control her trembling; assuming he wasn’t talking shit, she figured there was more than enough on her to kill her. “Why the fuck have you strapped infernite to me?”

“Insurance.” He produced a small control unit, showing it to her before setting it down again. “I’m meeting with the Ferasans to collect the reward for you; if they try to double cross me...” He made a whooshing sound. “Chargrilled Ape.”

“You’re- You’re betraying me to the Enemy? For money?”

He nodded. “Admittedly, it’s not as much as I’d get for Captain Hrelle, but you’ve been almost as big an itch in the Ferasans’ balls as he has, and I convinced them that with a little persuasion you might lead them to him.”

Sasha swallowed, feeling herself grow cold with disbelief. “You’re- You’re Caitian... you can’t be working for the Enemy!”

Now he reacted with indignation as he sneered, “I don’t work for aliens. This is just business: you, in exchange for enough gold-pressed latinum for me to retire early and get a house on Lake Meru. Maybe a boat, too. And some of these toys of yours could pay for a few extra luxuries -”

“Listen- I can get you money- I have resources, access to money-“

He smirked. “Yeah, I’m sure you do. I mean, you wouldn’t say anything to save your tailless ass at this point.”

“And what would your parents say? You told me they had a restaurant near where you lived. Would they agree to what you’re doing?”

“Probably not,” he conceded thoughtfully after a moment. “They’re honest, hard-working people, who will slave and toil and pinch the coins and never complain about their lot... and they’ll die honest, but poor. Me? I’d rather die drunk in a plush bed pounding into a prettytail in Season. Crooked, but comfortable.”

She stared, wishing, wishing he would just suddenly start telling her it was all a big joke on his part. “No- please, you can’t do this- it’s not just about my life- turning me over will be helping the Ferasans and the Dominion- they’re killing and enslaving hundreds of thousands of our people-“

He made a harsh sound, his tail twitching. “Our people? You’re not one of us.” He smirked. “I had a look around you when you were knocked out, just to make sure.”

She froze. “You... what?”

“Just a peek, here and there, to satisfy my curiosity; I never met an alien before.” He smirked again. “It’s strangely comforting to know you’re not entirely furless.”

Sasha swallowed, pushing down her disgust and revulsion at his confession of his casual violation of her while she was unconscious. “Listen to me: if the Ferasans get a hold of me, they’ll question me for information on the Resistance. They’ll torture me. They’ll rape me. Then they’ll most likely eat me alive. You know this.

And with what information they will have taken from me, the Resistance will fall, and there will be no one left to stop them from butchering and plundering the planet. Please...” When there was no response, she snarled, “Don’t you give a damn about anyone but yourself, you mercenary piece of shit?”

He never even looked over at her, just shrugged and replied, “Insult me all you want. The Rat-tails will soon put that mouth of yours to better use. All your holes, in fact.”

She swallowed again... feeling her anger now boil away her fear. “What’s your name?”

He paused, seemingly considering the request, before looking at her and replying, ”Navesh. Why? What good is it gonna do you where you’re going?”

Sasha fixed her gaze on him, her voice now low and dangerous. “Because now, when I escape from here and report on what happened to me, I’ll be able to finish the report with the sentence, ‘And then before I left, I cut off Constable Navesh’s head, as an example to all traitors to the Motherworld.’”

He chuckled. “Save that fire, Ape. I think you’re gonna need it.” Then his attention returned to a small screen before him. Then he rose to his feet, checking his police pistol and her phaser, before tucking both down the back of his waistband. “They’re here.”

“Mr Navesh,” Sasha breathed to him. “This is your last chance to get out of this alive. Let me go, and I’ll forget all this.”

But he made an impatient sound and departed, closing the door behind him.

And then Sasha began moving more openly, recognising the bindings on her wrists as being cuffs designed for Caitians and Ferasans, to keep them from using the tendons that let them extend their claws. The cuffs were very effective on both those races.

Not so effective on races like humans, with a slight but important physiological difference to their respective arms, wrists and hands. And for someone like Sasha, who’d practiced on them for a long time, enduring the ribald jokes from her friends who watched her do it-

She slipped out of them, with just a little scrape of her skin, but forwent any jumping jack celebrations, for fear of triggering the infernite currently pressed between her perfect boobs.

This was her own fault, she knew. If she hadn’t been self-medicating and taut as a wire, she might have seen through the bastard’s lies. That was on her.

As for the rest... Oh Mister Navesh, you are so quintessentially fucked...

*

Closer than she could know, outside another building, Jhess Furore and Captain Biggleshen moved through the winding stacks of crates and barrels in the warehouse in which they had spent the night, sleeping fitfully, trusting in the people who had found and secreted them here, while they sought Sasha’s whereabouts.

Ahead of them, Ashen, an older male with russet fur and a slight limp, glanced behind him. “Keep up, cubs! I could dance rings around you!”

Just behind Jhess, Biggles grunted, muttering, “Cubs, indeed. I’m in my fifties. Who does he think he is?”

Jhess glanced once more at their benefactor, and the sword strapped to his side, with the same Kaetini symbol on the pommel that he had seen many times on Sasha’s own sword. “I’m not sure who he thinks he is. I think he’s our only hope of finding Sash.”

Inwardly, his guts churned, from more than the meagre meal he had forced himself to down this morning. Guilt wracked him, from the way he badgered Sasha when they last spoke about taking stimulants. She had been correct; she was an adult, capable of making her own decisions, and he was only the nanny to her siblings and parents, and had no right to interfere. Stop trying to Counsel the Galaxy, Jhess.

“Such an adventure,” Biggles noted, tugging at the lapels of his brown leather flyer’s longcoat.

Jhess glanced at him. “All in a day’s work for the Skycats, I imagine.”

He grunted. “Hardly! Myself, Berti, Aljinon, Jinjer, we merely recreate the exploits of our illustrious ancestors. Mere performing actors-”

“-Who have been invaluable in tirelessly ferrying the families of Starfleet and Militia personnel to safety. Don’t dismiss your value so easily.” Inwardly, Jhess grimaced. What was that about stopping trying to Counsel the Galaxy again? “M Ashen, how are we going to find Sasha?”

The old male turned a corner, popping his head back at them. “You won’t find her dawdling back here, will you, cubs?”

The other two males caught up, turning the corner to find an open area of the warehouse... with an open square hole in the concrete floor, and a square grill plate resting next to it, beside a young coffee-furred male cub of about age ten, with a suspicious glare at the other males.

Ashen indicated him. “Gentlemen, this is Shuul, who does odd jobs around my shop in exchange for bags of Claw Flakes and Rula Punch to share with his brothers and sisters.”

The cub looked up at Jhess and scowled. “Why are you spotted?”

Jhess shrugged and smiled warmly. “I was born this way.”

“Hmph.” But then Shuul looked at Biggles, still frowning... but lacing it now with interest. “You look like a Skycat!”

Biggles glanced at Jhess, before straightening up and saluting. “I am, Young Sir: Captain Majes Biggleshen, at your service.”

That impressed the cub, and made Jhess smile, as Ashen explained, “Shuul has reported that his mother M’Troia had taken Captain Hrelle and his infant daughter in last night after the incident at the Benbow Inn. They left port early yesterday morning.”

The news, the first they had heard about Esek and Sreen, made Jhess’ tail wag. “They’re okay? Where are they? Where’d they go?”

“They went on a fishing boat,” Shuul announced. “The HIghsun. They went out onto the Free Seas.”

Now Jhess frowned. Fishing? Was he kidding? But no; he knew enough about cubs and cub psychology to tell that this one before him was being truthful. “Why? Why would he board a boat?”

“Maybe he didn’t have a choice?” Ashen suggested. “With the Enemy in town, searching, and a reward for information on him displayed everywhere...”

Jhess and Biggles glanced and nodded to each other, Jhess noting, “Well, that’s something, anyway.”

“And the fishing boast of the Free Fleet have safety transponders,” Ashen informed them. “You can track them down and pick them up.”

“We need to update the Exchange, let our people know what’s happening. And we need to find Sasha.”

“I might have a lead on her,” Ashen told him. “There was reports of her being seen with a local Constable Belan Navesh.”

“A Constable? Good!”

The older male shook his head. “No. Not when we’re talking about this particular Constable...”

*

It was a pointless exercise, Kami knew. If news from anyone had come through, it would be forwarded to her, wherever she was in the Island facility.

Still, on a regular basis, she would return to the Command Bay and ask if there was any word from those missing: her husband and daughter, her bond-daughter and allies, Nenjo and her team.

Nothing. Yet.

She tried to distract herself with a hundred other little tasks: quelling disputes between parties, assigning work details, inspecting security arrangements... and offering bland reassurances, a thousand times over, about the state of the world, the War, and how long they might be there.... answers she didn’t really have.

She had been in the middle of one of those when she suddenly stopped, everything around her growing distant and unfocused. Then she absently excused herself, turned and walked to the lift, entering and ascending to the surface.

The air outside was hot, thick, swaddling, and filled with a million unfiltered scents of the jungle around her, and the prehistoric animals and plants that inhabited this remarkable miniature ecosystem. She paced, her boots kicking moist, pebble-dotted dirt ahead of her, her tail a stress-galvanised whip, as she made harsh, guttural noises, teeth and claws bared, her release of anxiety escalating into hoarse roars to the beasts around her.

Spent, exhausted, she collapsed to her knees, her head pounding, her mane unravelling from its hold together to collapse over her face and muzzle, as she punched the dirt.

“Kami...”

She didn’t look up at the new arrival, didn’t have to, knowing her father’s voice and scent, but she didn’t respond to him.

She listened to him draw closer, carefully so as not to set off her aggressive instincts, even as she was calming down and returning to her controlled, civilised self.

Mi’Tree knelt in front of her, gently reaching out and taking her paws in his own, squeezing lovingly. “It’s alright, my Little Nova... just let it all out...”

She tried shaking her head, tried sobbing, but she was spent, could barely catch her breath, her voice raw and staccato. “Can’t- Can’t- S-Sorry- D-Don’t- Don’t know- What’s wrong- what’s wrong with me-“

Mi’Tree tightened his hold. “My dear, there is nothing wrong with you. There is just too much wrong with the world. Our world is broken. You’re tired. We’re all tired. And it’s perfectly normal to be overwhelmed by our poor world and everything that is broken in it, and all the ways it breaks people and families and lives. It is foolish to think we can just carry on with our usual energy and enthusiasm indefinitely. No one could.

Your mother couldn’t.”

Kami wiped her eyes with her fingers, shaking her head. “N-No- Mama... Mama was-“

He pressed his forehead against hers, purrs running through him as he crooned, “Your mother was not the Great Mother... except in the eyes and hearts of her Little Nova. She was as mortal as you. And there were times, in seclusion, when she would be in a position very much like I have found you here, thinking and feeling very much like what you’re thinking and feeling right now.”

He drew her into an embrace as he continued. “And at those times, Bneea and I would remind her that she was not fragile, because of the pain and weariness of carrying these burdens.

She was strong.

You are strong.”

The father held onto his daughter.

*

Sasha managed to remove the explosive charge from the harness and carefully set it on the control panel, before lifting up her head to peer through the glass, wondering where she was.

She looked down into a stark, open area, with what appeared to be a long serving bar along one side, and sets of large lights strung overhead: some sort of nightclub, probably closed for the Lockdown in Sekuro, and a venue that Constable Navesh thought would be suitable for the exchange. And she was in an overhead control booth for the music and lights, though the floor below was empty, save for one dark figure she guessed was him.

She saw her various confiscated devices, and collected them again: her holosuit controls, ship remote, energy deflector strips, Pummels, and of course her sword, glad she had it in her hands. Navesh had taken her phaser with him... but she could do what she had to do without it.

She began starting up panels, examining the controls and perusing what the Constable had been looking at before: a live view of the outside of the club, where Ferasans had gathered and stood guard, and others were entering now.

She had to move.

She set some commands on a countdown, before creeping to the door and carefully opening it, finding near darkness outside. The Caitians and Ferasans would have an advantage over her in terms of visual acuity in this low level of light, but there was nothing she could do about that. She found a ladder leading down to the ground floor, and balanced her sword carefully in one hand as she descended, just out of the view of the centre of the club, where she saw Navesh standing, now speaking with a half-dozen Ferasans standing in a semi-circle.

Sasha drew back out of sight as she continued downwards, her eyes adjusting to the darkness as she got her bearings. She was in the rear of the club, near the toilets and what were probably storage rooms, and a few metres away, the bar... but it was a few metres of open space where she couldn’t help but be seen. But that was okay, if her timing worked out.

Then she heard the voices heating up, and she stopped and peered back out again. She saw Navesh holding out her Starfleet pistol, presumably a sign that he did indeed have her to offer, but the Ferasans were barking demands, one of them moving closer-

Until the phaser in Navesh’s paw flipped and dropped into his grip, pointed at them, while he held up his other paw... with the control rod he showed Sasha before, as he bellowed, “CROSS ME, AND THE FAT HUMAN FEMALE IS BLOWN TO THE SEVEN HELLS!”

She frowned. I’m big boned, you pervy fakakta turncoat. She checked the chrono on her sleeve; she didn’t have much time. She looked across the open space at the bar, gauging how quickly she could get over there, then crawl her way to the other side, and with no stops to sample the spirits either. Just a few seconds-

Assuming the cats on the dance floor didn’t erupt into a firefight first.

Three, two, one-

She squeezed her eyes shut as her pre-programmed commands to the booth controls switched on every light in the room to a blinding, strobing brilliance, and the music joined in with some screeching, chaotic music at full volume, a din that made the very air throb in pain.

Keeping her eyes closed, she moved in the direction of the bar, even as she thought she heard disruptor fire-

She stumbled and fell as a fireball erupted from above- Navesh must have set off the infernite, thinking to kill her. And it would have, if she hadn’t left it up in the booth. Pain shot through her as she tumbled into the corner of the bar and fell.

The fire spread out, killing the lights but leaving the music, and the fire.

Now... She drew out her sword, rose and raced along the back of the bar, sacrificing cover for speed, even as she saw she had caught the Ferasans’ attention, and they began firing in her direction, and then finally charging towards her.

Sasha couldn’t stay behind the bar now and risk being trapped and killed there, so she hopped and rolled over the bartop, taking a bottle of something with her and hurling it at the face of the nearest Ferasan, watching it smash and making him scream as the broken glass cut his eyes and snout to ribbons. The others continued to fire, but the deflector strips returned to the sleeves of her holosuite absorbed most of the energy, and her sword did the rest.

They dropped their disruptors to launch and almost-simultaneous attack on her with their teeth and claws.

And she danced with them, her sword cleaving limbs and other body parts, their blood spurting out onto her as she cut a path to what she hoped was the exit. Around her, Ferasans fell, their screams drowned out by the awful music, while lighting fixtures fell from the ceiling, smashing to the dance floor while she dodged them, like some game.

She didn’t see Navesh anywhere.

*

Belan Navesh was a survivor.

He had grown up on the streets of Sekuro, running with the other cubs, getting into trouble... but always getting out of it. He only got better at it when he joined the local Constabulary, and used his knowledge of this city and its people and ways, learning to skulk through the shadows of legality and make a little extra on the side with under-the-table deals and looking the other way when necessary.

Stumbling upon the human, recognising her even through her holosuit disguise, was like finding a treasure trove. The Ferasans proved to be as repulsive as he had been told, but he found their money very attractive. It was meant to be the sweetest deal of his career.

And then the ape had to go and screw up all his plans.

He blinked as he stepped outside into an intersection in the morning air and light, blinking and coughing and getting his bearings. Around him, he could see the local citizenry, still on lockdown but watching from their windows. Too many witnesses to say he had been in there. So he came up with an alternative story, about the human hiding in the club, the Ferasans finding her in there, and in the fight they killed each other. He tried to race in there to help, but-

He looked down in confusion as a black blade, coated in bright blood, emerged from the centre of his chest, as if had been inside him all along. He froze, dropping the human’s Starfleet phaser, before watching the blade seemingly withdrawing back inside him as he dropped to his knees, unable to move his limbs.

Oh. It was the human’s Kaetini sword.

He spent the remaining vestiges of his voluntary control to turn his head and look behind him, watching a bloodied, furious Sasha swing down her blade in a wide arc towards his-

*

Ashen had stopped Jhess and Biggles in the side alley when he heard the explosion. Then he motioned to him. “Come on.”

Jhess gripped his blaster tighter, wanting to question the Kaetini agent’s wisdom in continuing in what could be potential Enemy activity, but instead he nodded to Biggles and followed, aware of the citizens of Sekuro, still on Lockdown but watching everything happening.

They emerged into an intersection outside some sort of club that was smouldering, to see a blood-covered Sasha standing over a decapitated male Caitian body, her sword in one hand and what was obviously the severed head of the body held high in her other hand, as she roared to the many witnesses in the surrounding windows, “LOOK AND LEARN! THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS TO TRAITORS TO THE MOTHERWORLD! THIS!”

“Sasha!” Jhess called out, glancing around for the inevitable reinforcements of the Enemy to arrive as the three of them rushed up to her. “Are you... Are you okay?”

She glanced at him, dropping the head to let it roll next to the stump of the neck. “Better than some.”

“Who in the Seven Hells is that?” Biggles asked, looking appalled.

“That is the aforementioned Constable Navesh,” Ashen replied, staring at the body, his own weapons drawn. “An agent of the law as crooked as a barrel of fish hooks.”

“He tried to sell me to some Ferasans I left inside,” Sasha announced, sheathing her sword.

“Then he got what he deserved.”

“And you think you two will convince the local Constabulary of that?” Jhess exclaimed.

Before anyone could respond, more Constables raced up, sonic pistols drawn, one of them shouting, “DROP YOUR WEAPONS!”

Ashen turned to face them, displaying his sword and announcing calmly, “No. Drop your weapons.”

And they did, the Constable who spoke staring at the body. “Is- Is that Constable Navesh? What happened to him, Mr Ashen?”

“Blame it on the dead Ferasans in the club,” the elderly male replied, “I have to get these people away before the Jem’Hadar show up. You never saw us here.” As smoke poured out of the front doors, he added, “I’m hoping someone is calling for the firefighters.”

The Constable nodded, motioning to his comrades, while Ashen led the others away.

“That was impressive,” Biggles noted. “I didn’t know the Kaetini had jurisdiction here.”

Sasha checked her remote, deliberately avoiding the stare she was getting from Jhess. “The Kaetini have jurisdiction wherever the Kaetini find themselves to be. We still have to find Dad and Sreen.”

“They’re on a fishing boat on the Free Seas,” Ashen informed her. “The Highsun. The Caitian Maritime Database will have its transponder frequency. I’ll take you to a place to access it.”

“No need,” Sasha responded. “My ship’s now on its way, ETA two minutes, we’ll beam up and get the frequency on the way. Thank you for your help; I hope I haven’t made things worse here for your people.”

The older male stopped, turned and grunted. “Things will get worse, for everyone, before they get better. Let’s just make sure the worst falls upon the Enemy.” He held out his paw.

Sasha accepted it.

*

Kami controlled herself as best she could as she rushed into the Command Bay, her son trailing behind her despite her telling him to return to the school; she was too galvanised to order him out, even if it was bad news. “Report.”

Lt Cmdr Tshal turned to her, his scent and expression. “Agent Nenjo has just reported a successful implant of the S’Li Algorithms, and they’re already on their way back now.”

“Successful? Is she certain?”

“Certain enough to have broken radio silence and contacted us.”

Kami made a sound; if the other female was wrong... then it’s too late now, and they were all dead. “Try and contact Captain Hrelle’s communicator, and Lt Hrelle’s ship. Stay cautious; monitor for any signs that the Enemy is detecting the signals.”

As Tshal moved to the others to comply, Kami heard and smelled Misha draw up. “You call Papa and Baby Sreen?”

She straightened up, keeping an eye on the personnel, reading their body language and scents. “Great Mother willing, yes.”

He reached up and took her paw in his, squeezing. “Papa tough, like Sasha and you.”

Now she looked down at him, smiling with uncommon but welcome lightness. “Oh? Am I as tough as Papa and Sasha? But I’m not a Kaetini. I don’t have a sword.”

He scowled. “You no need a sword to be tough. Mama is tough. Grandmama was tough, too.”

Her smile broadened... Yes, she was... then Tshal returned to her, smiling. “We can’t reach Captain Hrelle’s communicator, but the Tailless has just reported in! They’ve just left Sekuro for the Free Seas! Captain Hrelle and your daughter escaped on a fishing boat the day before! They’re homing in now on it-“

He stopped as Lt Mori drew up now, not looking as positive. “There’s increased Enemy communications traffic from around Sekuro and the Free Seas; they must have worked out that the Captain is on one of the Free Fleet’s boats! The Jem’Hadar are searching them now!”

*

“Papa,” Sreen breathed out.

Hrelle made a soft, shushing sound as he woke and held her close. It was just after dawn, before he was meant to awaken and start his shift, but now he stood in one of the Highsun’s narrow corridors belowdeck, aware that the boat had now stopped... or been stopped. He heard unfamiliar voices on the topdeck.

Neshama dropped down from an aft hatch, her scent and expression telling Hrelle what her words confirmed. “Jem’Hadar ships surrounding us, demanding to search.”

His heart sank. Damn. Damn, damn... “Take Sreen.”

“What?”

He drew up to the female, holding out his infant. “Take her. I’ll turn myself over to them.”

“Seven Hells- No!”

“Yes. They only want me, and they can identify me from among the crew. If they have to come look for me, then it’s more likely that they’ll kill you all and sink the ship. If I surrender to them now, you’ll all have a chance.” He practically forced Sreen into Neshama’s arms. “I promised I wouldn’t get any of you into unnecessary risk.”

“You also said this was everyone’s fight!”

He nodded. “I did. But this isn’t a fight you can win.”

“Papa!” Sreen echoed demandingly, reaching out for him, grasping. “Papa hoad! Now!”

He stared into those beautiful bronze eyes for the last time... oh my Warrior Princess... He looked to Neshama again. “Swear to me you’ll get her back to her mother safely.”

Neshama was breathing heavily now, emotions vying for dominance in her. “You- You can’t just-“

He checked his phaser and sword and turned while he still had the nerve.

“PAPA!” Sreen called after him, mewling.

He ascended a ladder to the flush deck, blinking in the light of morning, joining some of the crew standing up there, looking down on the open midsection as half a dozen Jem’Hadar stood on deck, weapons raised, while Captain Sallah stood facing one of them, shouting, “I don’t know what you’re blathering about, you bloody sea serpent! There’s no ‘Captain Hrelle’ onboard!” He thumbed his own chest. “I’m the only Captain on the Highsun! Now bugger off and leave us in peace!”

Hrelle stared down, impressed by the male’s chutzpah... but, looking at the  Jem’Hadar attack ship hovering over the ocean on the Highsun’s starboard side, ready to blow her out of the water, Hrelle also knew how this would end, if he didn’t act now.

“Order all your crew uptop,” the Jem’Hadar demanded Sallah. “Or we will destroy you.”

Sallah bared his teeth. “You don’t command me, dog!”

“Sallah, no!” Hrelle called out from the flush deck, claiming everyone’s attention – including the Jem’Hadar, some of whom immediately recognising him and raising their weapons. In response, he raised his paws in surrender as he addressed them. “Who is First among you?”

One of them, the one who had been speaking with Sallah, stepped forward, displaying his courage by not wielding a weapon. “I am First Galan’itan. You are Captain Hrelle.”

“Yes. I am surrendering to you without opposition. These are unarmed civilians I tricked into letting me board their vessel to escape. There is no need, no honour, in harming them.”

Galan’itan peered at him, before motioning for him to descend the steps.

One of the crew – Gershom – yelled and threw a large wrench at the First.

“No! “ Hrelle started to shout.

Galan’itan knocked the wrench from the air, drew his pistol and fired, striking the young Second Mate in the chest and sending him hurling backwards into a pile of mooring ropes.

Sallah roared, picked up a large net hook and drove it into the Jem’Hadar’s neck from behind, sending ugly red blood spurting.

Hrelle drew his phaser even as the other Jem’Hadar moved to react to the attack on their First, firing at more of the crew – but Hrelle fired upwards, at the ropes holding the huge main sail overhead, the arrangement collapsing quickly onto the main deck, over most of the Jem’Hadar.

Sallah brought the hook down on Galan’itan, again and again, looking as shocked by the bloody mess he was making, as about the fact that he was making it, before looking up, picking up the Jem’Hadar’s fallen weapon and roaring, “BRING ’EM DOWN, BUCKOES!”

The crew drew knives, picked up tools and makeshift clubs and charged towards the mass of sails, as the Jem’Hadar struggled underneath to free themselves.

“NO!” Hrelle called out again, ignored. Seven Hells, what were they thinking? They couldn’t win this! They were all going to be killed!

As if in illustration, a disruptor bolt blindly burst through the thick oatmeal-coloured canvas of the mainsail, shooting upwards even as it set the material on fire. Another followed, but the Jem’Hadar beneath were firing wildly in their efforts to strike back and make an escape from underneath.

The crew of the Highsun attacked en masse, striking and stabbing at the Jem’Hadar trapped beneath.

Hrelle looked across either side of the ship, to see the Jem’Hadar attack ship still hovering over the waters on either side, almost certainly about to send-

Reinforcements beamed onto the fore and flush decks, three of the Jem’Hadar appearing at Hrelle’s right, tackling him together-

But misjudging the force of their attack, as all four of them burst through the rail and plunged into the cool blue waters of the Free Seas.

*

After locating the Highsun’s frequency and setting an intercept course, Sasha took the moment to go get washed and changed and clean her sword, trusting in her comrades to keep an eye in the cockpit-

She started at the knock on her cabin door, and went taut as she rose and answered. “What’s wrong, Jhess?”

The spotted male leaned in the doorway, his back to the cockpit, his arms crossed and his voice low. “Nothing. Just checking on you, to see how you’re doing.”

She blinked. “Fine.” She turned to slip back into her Starfleet uniform.

“You sure? If you wanted to talk about what happened back in Sekuro...”

She grunted. “Didn’t know you’d hung up your shingle when we boarded.”

“’Shingle’?”

She sat on the edge of her bunk and reached for her boots. “Am I speaking with Dr Furore, Cub Psychologist, right now?”

“Let’s try Jhess Furore, your friend... with my Psychologist’s Cap ready for wear, if needed. How are you doing after your ordeal?”

She shrugged. “Hardly an ordeal. I got captured, drugged, woke up to find some greedy kussik trying to sell me off, I broke free, took care of business, and the rest you know.”

“You killed. More than once.”

She nodded at that, standing up now and reaching for her replacement phaser. “That seems to be what Taking Care of Business means these days. Don’t make it out to be anything special.”

“Sash...”

She looked at him directly now once more. “Jhess... look, you were right about my taking the stimulants. It was stupid. It left me vulnerable to getting captured. I’m lucky I was caught by a traitor instead of the Enemy. I won’t do it again.

But if you’re looking for me to feel traumatised by killing... sorry, but No. They were mostly just Ferasans, and as I told you once before on the Island, the only good Ferasan is a dead one. And I made an example of a criminal Caitian who thought of his own greed over the safety and security of the Motherworld and Her people.”

“I understand, Sash – I’m no stranger to killing either, I was doing it before you ever put on that uniform – but that only means I know that it leaves a wound in you, one you can’t just pretend isn’t there. It just gets infected, it festers-“

She frowned at him now, his refusal to just let this drop annoying her now. “When the Ferasans and the Jem’Hadar are all on a burning funeral pyre, then I’ll take time to heal, okay?”

“Red Alert!” Biggles called from forward, before Jhess could respond. “We have Jem’Hadar-vessels surrounding the Highsun! Dead ahead, ETA two minutes!”

Sasha pushed past Jhess to take the co-pilot’s seat. “Get ready to drop our Prowl cloak, I’m arming microtorpedoes. Jhess, contact the Island, update them on our status... unless you want me to stop where we are so I can go for Counseling?”

Jhess took the Communications station seat. “Focus on the task, Lieutenant.”

*

Hrelle lost his grip on his phaser, but retained the nous to take a deep breath before he hit the water, twisting his body in an attempt to free himself from their grasp.

But his sword, still strapped to his side, weighed him down, along with his own bulk, and the weight of at least two of the Jem’Hadar still gripping him, still trying to kill him, possibly even at the cost of their own lives. His lungs and muscles ached.

Mother’s Cubs... Kami, I’m sorry... I’m-

From the corner of his right eye, something caught his attention: several large, fast, streamlined objects, undulating furiously as they swam through the water, firing red phaser beams from their sides, striking two of the Jem’Hadar and sending them floating away, stunned and most likely condemned to drown.

The fastest of the approaching objects pointed its long beak-like protuberance... and a sharp sonic pulse emitted from it, making Hrelle’s ears and teeth ache, but driving the last Jem’Hadar fighting him into unconsciousness and sending him descending into the darkness of the sea.

Before Hrelle could fight to swim to the surface, his dark blue-grey saviours surrounded him, pushing him up easily towards the surface. Absently, Hrelle saw they wore frictionless harnesses with phaser, communicator and tricorder attachments in various places... and brandishing Starfleet insignias.

Before he could take anything further in, he broke the surface, greedily gulping in huge hearty lungfuls of fresh salty air, even as he continued to hold onto one of his saviours, as another broke the surface of the water as well and cackled at him. “Hello again, Big Boy! Still pissing in the water, I see!”

Helle gasped, eyes wide in utter shock as he looked at the beady black eyes and the elongated mouth seemingly fixed in a permanent grin of mischief. “D-Doctor Wheelie?”

Doctor Hwii’’!!’’li’!’iei, Chief Counselor of the Starfleet science vessel Kanaloa, struck the water with his snout. “Yep! Big as life and twice as sexy!” He turned and chattered to his fellow Delphines, who dove under the water.

“Wha- What are you doing on Cait?”

“We were on shore leave here,” he explained. “I told everyone about the Caitian sleekfish you brought me at our last Counseling session, and thought we’d go get more. Then the Ferasans and Jem’Hadar showed up, our ship left the system at short notice to save itself. We were stuck here with our aquashuttle, hiding underwater, keeping radio silence.”

Hrelle gasped. “You mean, all these weeks you’ve been out here on your own?”

“At first, yes. Then we found friends.”

“Friends?”

Before he could ask further, Jem’Hadar on the Highsun began firing in the water. Wheelie and his Delphine companions turned, dove and then leapt out of the water, one after the other, aiming their harness phasers and taking out the soldiers on the deck with surprising accuracy.

But Hrelle turned in the water to face the nearest attack ship. “No! The ship! Focus on-”

Something incredibly fast – a missile – struck the attack ship, ripping it into pieces, Hrelle ducking under the water to escape the flying debris and flames.

He emerged to see the wreckage of the Jem’Hadar ship sink in smoke and fire... as other aircraft appeared, slowing down and hovering where the Jem’Hadar attack ship had been seconds before: grey, armoured and angled, bullet-shaped with weapons pods and short wings and airfoils... and with Caitian Militia markings on the sides identifying them as Thunderbolt helijets.

Hrelle gasped again. “It’s- It’s not possible- the Militia were all destroyed-”

Wheelie returned, cackling again. “I told you we found friends. Look west, Big Boy. Look West.”

He did. The Western Horizon was dark, misty from the receding fog of the night before...

But from the tenebrous fog emerged something huge: an armoured vessel as big as a Sovereign-class starship, moving just above the water, coming into view courtesy of the lifting of both the fog and some sort of cloaking device, with more Thunderbolts launching from bays on its sides and bringing up the front.

Hrelle bobbed in the water, eyes wide. “What in the Seven Hells...”

“Pretty cool, huh?” Wheelie remarked. “Her Captain calls her the Deep Keep...”

*

Sasha rechecked the tactical display a fifth time: there was the Highsun, there were two Jem’Hadar attack ships surrounding it, and several more on their way. “Drop the Prowl, Captain Biggles, now.”

“What? We’re not there yet!”

“We have to lure the Enemy away from the Highsun.” She opened a channel. “Attention, Jem’Hadar: this is Lieutenant Sasha Hrelle of Starfleet. You’re a pack of spineless dogs’ arseholes, and your so-called gods are nothing but blobs of diseased crotch pus who’d be better off being protected by Ferengi than the likes of you. When you’ve stopped pissing yourselves in fear over the sound of my voice, you know where to find me.” She closed the channel. “Okay, Captain, you’ll stay busy keeping them off our tails, while I fight them.”

Biggles breathed in, apparently stunned by her display, before resuming his work. “I’m reading two Jem’Hadar attack ships closing in from upper orbit.”

“But not the one at the Highsun. Keep on our course towards it... and be ready to throw up the Prowl again.”

“So you don’t have a death wish,” Jhess noted from behind her.

She spared a half-glance back at him. “I do – but only for the Enemy.”

“Three attack ships closing in now,” Biggles reported, his voice tense as his fingers moved quickly over the controls. “Moving fast- wait, one’s disappeared.”

She saw it, picking up sensor readings. “Did it just... explode?”

“Some accident onboard?” Jhess suggested.

Before she could answer, she reported, “A second one, gone! What the-”

“There!” Biggles nodded ahead.

She saw it, the third scarab-shaped Jem’Hadar vessel dropping down through the puffy white clouds on a direct course- before something struck it from below and behind, enveloping it in a ball of flame that broke up and descended towards the water.

“Missile attack!” she snapped, running scans now, seeing nothing. “But from what? Where? There’s nothing else out here!”

“Tell them that,” Biggles breathed, nodding once more ahead.

Jhess rose from his seat and joined them, all three staring out at a trio of aircraft that didn’t appear on the Tailless’ sensors, but were there nevertheless, adopting a surrounding pattern.

Jhess’ tail smacked against Sasha’s legs in astonishment. “Those are Thunderbolt helijets! Militia vehicles! B-But how?”

An incoming signal drew Sasha’s attention, as she responded to it, and a male voice filled the air. “Lieutenant Hrelle, we’re from the Caitian assault carrier Deep Keep, here to escort you to the sea vessel to help you collect your father and sister. Disengage your weapons and follow us down.”

Sasha glanced at the others. Could it really be true?

*

“Father! We’ve picked up Hap-Tek’s transporter signal! It’s only just activated!”

Melem-Adu turned to ThirdSon. “Beam him here!”

“Father!”

“DO IT!” The Master Governor’s heart raced. His beloved son would be taken care of. He didn’t blame him for his confession; those Caitian animals tortured him into complying. He would be healed, and he would join his father in making a feast of those responsible...

A red transporter beam filled the centre of the Capitol’s Operations Centre.

And a burning mass of flesh on a wooden Martyr’s Wheel appeared.

Ferasans gasped, some retching at the smell.

Melem-Adu could only stand there, seeing the remains of his second son, a charred, smouldering corpse... with an unburnt sign hanging around the remains of his neck that said simply LEAVE NOW...

*

In the Island’s Command Bay, Kami stood still, hearing and smelling her fathers enter, along with her firstborn Mirow and his pregnant wife Ptera, all of them surrounding her, Ptera announcing, “We heard- have they been found, Kam?”

“We’re just waiting.” She squeezed Misha’s paw. She projected an aura of calm, of command, surprising even herself. And she watched the activity of the technicians at the stations around them, seeing the churn, like something rising up from under water-

“A signal!” Mori declared, but then frowned.

“From whom?” Kami asked. “My husband? Sasha?”

“It’s on an encrypted frequency, Caitian Militia credentials, but- there’s no more Caitian Militia...”

Kami’s heart raced. Was it some sort of Ferasan or Jem’Hadar trick? Only one way to find out “Let’s hear it, Mr Mori.”

Seconds later, a very familiar voice filled the air. “Kaijushima Island: this is Captain Hrelle, alive and well and with my Little Howler in hand, and I don’t mean my penis. Is my wife around?”

She strode forward, opening the channel, the relief emitting from her like heat from a supernova. “I’m here, you fat bastard, and you’re in for a Galaxy of Hurt when you get back here! Is my baby okay?”

Then Sreen responded, “Mama! Papa feesh! Me feesh!”

She gasped; was she speaking already? She shook her head in wonderment. “Are you on the Tailless with Sasha and the others?”

“Not yet, but they’re on their way here. We’ve met friends. Some old, some new... but we’ll be home soon. We’ll talk again soon. Hrelle out.”

She straightened up again as the room let out a collective cheer, Misha taking the opportunity to hop up onto a table and do some silly victory dance.

Kami smiled at them, allowing the tensions of the last few days to ease out of her. Thank you, Mama; even if your advice came to me via my Papas, I still felt it from you. Now, how about showing off some of that stubbornness and coming back from the dead?

*

Approximately nine billion kilometres from Cait, in the outermost edge of the system, a small black planetoid circled at its own pace, ignored by the Galaxy. It was designated Kuburan by the Caitians, named after one of the Seven Hells of ancient mythology, a Hell reserved for Invaders and Marauders.

In keeping with this origin, Kuburan had long served as a graveyard, a graveyard of starships, the remains of all vessels – and their crews – that had tried and failed to attack or invade the Caitian system, in the millennium since the arrival here of the people who would eventually call themselves Caitian. Across the cracked, ebon-carpeted surface could be found the wreckage of the starships of Ferasans, Orions, Romulans, Hur’q, Triacans, Xindi, Malurians, Nausicaans, Kzinti, and even races with no discernible origin.

Most recently, another ship had joined the wreckage: a battlecruiser designated the Mother’s Fury, the former flagship of the Caitian Planetary Navy, sent crashing down weeks ago when the Ferasans and Jem’Hadar invaded the system.

Its exterior was dark, cold.

Offering no hint as to the activity within.

On the Bridge, Crewman R’Milla, fatigued and fighting several shades of trauma, had felt himself drifting off into boredom-induced sleep as he entered the fourth hour of his monitoring duties. Following the initial crash onto Kuburan and the initial work required to help the injured and secure the ship’s life support systems, then things seemed to slow down. They weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, they couldn’t call for help, all they could do was assess and reapir, assess and repair. And listen. And all Crewman R’Milla had ever heard while on duty here was the noise of the Universe... occasionally broken by the odd moments of Jem’Hadar traffic from their patrols out here. Otherwise, nothing.

At least, until there was something.

As R’Milla listened, his tail twitching excitedly through the hole in his seat, he suddenly kicked himself mentally for not following protocol, and opened a shipwide channel. “Senior officers to the Bridge, Double Quick! We have a transmission from Cait!”

He rubbed his paws together with excitement. Since their crash landing here, they had been under complete communications blackout, hearing nothing from either within or without the system, and being unable to risk being detected by sending a distress signal to the Federation.

When the senior officers arrived, he rose, still remembering military protocol. “Ma’am, a signal has been transmitted from the Motherworld, bounced through surviving subspace relays, in an effort to escape into the rest of the Galaxy. It’s...”

“Play it.”

Onscreen, a very familiar male appeared. “My fellow Caitians: I am Mi’Tree Shall. Many of you will know me as an actor, a performer, a Taleteller. You are used to seeing me immersed in fiction. Today, I offer you the truth....”

The assembled listened raptly, one more than the others, her one good eye fixed on the image, the fingers on her cybernetic left arm tapping agitatedly against her hip. Once more she wished they had the resources to create a cloned arm and eye to replace the ones she lost in the battle and the subsequent crash onto Kuburan, hating feeling like a Borg... but then once more she reminded herself of the numbers of her crew who had perished, beyond any medical help.

When the transmission ended, her senior officers looked to her, First Officer Commander Ksara speaking for the rest. “The Ferasans are using us... as breeding stock... to try and save themselves... what are we going to do?”

They all looked to their commanding officer to respond.

Fleet Captain Ma’Sala Shall looked back. “We continue to heal. We continue to make repairs. We continue to ready the Seven Hells Device.

And we remember that our fight has only just begun...”

 

 

THE ADVENTURES OF THE SUREFOOT WILL CONTINUE IN...

THE ONLY GOOD FERASAN

 

BONUS MATERIAL

Previous versions of the title banner: