The End - Part 4 of 4: Where There Is Despair...

“Kam, I’m worried for her.”

They sat on a blanket with a picnic basket beside them, in the shades of trees near the section of the Clanlands that touched upon the beach, where they could see the construction machines from Ptera’s company working like hive insects to rebuild the Clanhouse... and also keep an eye on Misha, down near the waters with his schoolcub friends, playing and splashing about as if nothing had ever happened this year. “I know. I am too. She’ll remain relieved of duty, can stay here with the rest of us.”

He cradled Sreen in his arms, doting on her, but now looked at his wife. “The rest of us?”

A rueful expression crossed her features. “This is not how I wanted to spring this on you, Esek, but with Tattok ready to announce the return to the Fleet... I want to take a leave of absence and remain behind. With the cubs.”

He frowned. “What? Why?”

Her paw dipped into the bone-white sand beside her, sculpting mandala patterns. “The psychological trauma our people are experiencing is more profound and widespread than you might imagine: self-harm, suicide, even incidents of rage-filled murder has jumped sharply, and that’s not even taking into account those who had suffered in the camps. I’ve been asked to continue to coordinate the overall medical response.

And then there’s the family. I have to help Mama recover, physically and mentally, and counsel her on her new responsibilities as a politician... and the events of this year has reminded me that my mother and fathers won’t be around forever. They deserve more time with myself, and their grandcubs.

Just as their grandcubs deserve more time with them, and deserve to have an ordinary, planetbound life for a while. Look how Misha is enjoying himself with the other cubs his age over there! Besides, Jhess is planning to leave his contract with us as our Llalare and stay on Cait, to rebuild his relationship with his family, and to help out here, both as a Militia operative and a cub psychologist.”

Hrelle frowned; he supposed he couldn’t begrudge the young male that, after all he had gone through. His frown disappeared as Sreen stirred awake, sensing the change in his mood. He stroked under her chin and purred to soothe her. “You make perfect sense.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to like it. Or that you have to agree to it.”

“Oh? You mean I actually have a say in this?”

Kami tilted her head at him. “Don’t be like that, Esek; you know better. You’ll miss us terribly. We’ll miss you terribly. But for all our prior arguments in favour of having our family onboard ship, with the War heating up, and now the Breen joining the Dominion, can we really still justify it?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

His combadge chirped, and Nenjo reported, “Captain, just to let you know, we’ve received an Intelligence report: Sasha has just been spotted in Stonebay, in the Market District.”

He blinked, looking to Kami but answering, “Excellent work, Agent, my thanks. Hrelle out.” As the channel closed he made a move to get up.

Kami held up a paw to stop him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Me? I’m going to drag her non-furry ass back here to explain where in the Seven Hells she’s been all this time!”

“No you’re not. Sit down again.”

He did so – reluctantly – as she continued. “She’s coming to us. She’s almost ready.” At his expression, she elaborated, “She has the entire planet in her reach. Do you think it a coincidence that she chose the town nearest the Clanlands to appear in? Or that she wouldn’t know she would be seen there and have it reported back to us?”

He harrumphed. “Doesn’t it get tiring, being right all the time?”

She reached into the basket and produced a chilled bottle of water. “It’s exhausting.”

*

Several kilometres down the road, in the local community of Stonebay, there sat an open-air restaurant on the main avenue running through the town, where patrons could sit on the veranda and dine while watching shoppers wind their way past the market stalls.

Sasha sat alone at a corner table where the breeze was at its most generous, while the owner of the establishment personally brought her a plate of deep-fried shuris pieces and waffles slathered with tavaberry syrup. “Thanks, Roscoe. You want my credit print now?”

The tall, portly, chocolate-furred male chuckled. “Your money’s no good here, Lieutenant. It never will be, not for you or your father, not after all you both have done. I’ll get you a cold beer to wash it down.”

She looked up as he departed, wanting to argue that with him. Not about the beer – the beer sounded fine right about now – but any nonsense about what she might deserve. She stared down at her plate, her nose appreciating the scent, her mouth watering and stomach growling impatiently to be sated.

She held off it. She didn’t even know why she bothered coming here and ordering anything that wasn’t alcoholic.

She looked around again. People moved about as if the Ferasans had never been here. It was easy enough, she supposed; apart from the attack on the Shall Clanlands, the Enemy did not make much of an impact in this part of the world. Oh yes, like Roscoe, they’ll have watched the news, they’ll know her from that, and from her connection to Dad and Grandma and the Grandpas and-

“Lieutenant Hrelle?”

She was stirred from her thoughts by new arrivals at her table: an elderly male Caitian with ash-grey fur and spectacles resting on his muzzle, and an auburn-furred female cub, maybe nine or ten, standing beside him, looking at Sasha in open wonder... and with what looked like a toy sword strapped to her side.

Sasha swallowed; she wasn’t in the mood for more fans, and she’d deny being herself if she could get away with it... an unlikely scenario, given her being the only human around, and so well-known. “Yes, that’s me.”

The old male bowed slightly. “I am Duro Presirr. This is my grandcub, K’Niri.”

The cub bowed... but rested her paw on the hilt of her sword. “Mistress K’Niri. Of the Kaetini.”

“Oh?” Despite her depressed state, Sasha couldn’t help but be amused by the cub’s introduction, and bowed back in her seat. “It’s nice to meet a fellow Kaetini around here. It’s good to know that Stonebay is safe from any further problems.”

Duro smiled at the human’s affable response to the cub’s declaration. “We are sorry for disturbing you at your meal, but when K’Niri-”

“Mistress K’Niri,” the cub corrected her grandfather gently.

He smiled to her. “Forgive me, Cub, I am old and forget such things easily.” Then he continued to Sasha. “When Mistress K’Niri saw you here, she was most insistent on meeting you, being such a big fan of yours. But if you wish to be left alone-”

“No. No, it’s okay. Would you like to sit?”

K’Niri did not have to be told twice, Duro sitting beside her. “You are most gracious. At my age I find myself resting on my laurels more and more.”

Sasha smiled. “Grandpa Mi’Tree says his back and his knees are in a constant argument over which gets to complain to him more.” She noticed K’Niri again, who couldn’t take her bronze eyes off of the shuris and waffles. “Listen, do you think you can help me with this? I ordered way too much, and lately I have no appetite.”

The grandfather shook his head. “No, no, that’s too generous of you, Lieutenant-”

But K’Niri was already drawing the plate over to her side of the table and reaching for the cutlery. “I have to help other Kaetini when they ask, Grandpa.”

“Hmph. Well, that’ll mean you won’t need a midday meal when we get home.” He focused on Sasha again. “I’m certain you’ve heard this far too much already from our people, but I wanted to thank you for all your efforts to help save us, Lieutenant.”

More than I can say without being rude. And none of it deserved. “You’re welcome. And please, call me Sasha.” She watched K’Niri as she devoured the meal, envying her appetite. “Are you minding her for her parents?”

There was a slight shift in his expression. “Her parents died during the Occupation.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

He made a sound. “My son and his wife were both in the Militia, stationed at Syeya Province, when the Ferasans first struck months ago.” He looked to K’Niri, reached out and stroked her mane. “It was a fortunate happenstance that this little one was staying with me at the time. It was meant to be only for a few days.”

Her heart sank as she listened. More deaths, Sasha. The tally grows and grows. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Mr Presirr. It must have been devastating for both of you.”

Duro smiled wistfully. “A parent should never outlive their cubs. Not that it was any easier for K’Niri; embracing the tales of the Kaetini have helped her cope, however. And I must admit, it’s rather invigorating making school lunches again at my age.” 

He reached out for a napkin, dipped a corner in a glass of water on the table and worked it around K’Niri’s snout, ignoring her growls of protest. “Or helping with homework. Or keeping these little whirlwinds from leaping off balconies while they’re playing Kaetini. Or a hundred other things.” Then he set the napkin down and sighed. “We’ve had time to accept, and cope. We have each other. We are grateful for that.

And for you.”

“Me? I- I couldn’t do anything to help K’Niri’s parents at Syeya.”

“We know. But you helped others. Many times.”

Sasha shook her head. No. No, please don’t. “N-No.”

“But you did. You did so much good-”

“It wasn’t enough!”

Then it came out of her: feeling her face nova with heat, the tears running down her cheeks, her breath quickening as she struggled to keep it in, to keep from losing control in public. She sat there trembling as if caught in a fever, aware of K’Niri and her grandfather and everyone else staring in confusion in her direction. She rose quickly, nearly tipping her chair over as she stepped down from the veranda and rushed around to the side of the restaurant, feeling herself crumble from within as she slumped to the dirt, crying her eyes out.

At some point, she felt a presence kneeling before her: Duro, holding her now, purring. “There, there, Cub, it’s alright, let it out.”

Even as she accepted his compassion, she couldn’t stop feeling thoroughly ashamed at herself, at behaving this way, after this poor, gentle soul had lost so much himself. To have him offer comfort to a stranger... “I’m- I’m sorry- I- I have- have no right to burden you-”

“Hush. Offering comfort to another in need is no burden.”

She swallowed, feeling like she’d been wrung dry like a rag. “So many... so many died... I didn’t do enough... didn’t fight enough... I couldn’t save them all...”

Now Duro drew back to hold her by the shoulders and look into her eyes. “Lieutenant... Sasha... there are thousands alive because of you... whole generations will be born, because of you.

No, you couldn’t save them all. That’s outside of anyone’s powers.

But to save even one person... to do one bit of good... can mean everything.”

She took in his words... suddenly remembering similar ones she heard a lifetime ago. “‘Whoever kills one life, kills the world entire. And whoever saves one life, saves the world entire.’” She swallowed and looked to him again. “From a very ancient book of wisdom on Earth. Thank you for reminding me.”

Now she turned to face K’Niri, who stood there, looking worried and tearful, declaring, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eat all your food and make you cry!”

Sasha wiped her face again and smiled at her. “No, I’m not crying about that. In fact I’m glad you ate it for me, I’ve been putting on a bit of weight lately, and that’s not good if I’m going to keep being Starfleet and Kaetini.” She reached up and stroked the cub’s mane. “It’s an honour, a pleasure and a privilege to meet you, Mistress K’Niri. I have something to give you, so you’ll remember me.”

“Your sword?” she asked, eyes brightening.

Sasha laughed softly. “Sorry, I’m still using that. What I want to give you is even more important to me.” She reached under her uniform collar and withdrew a gold pendant on a necklace, holding up the pendant to show her the Pi-like symbol.

K’Niri peered at it. “It looks like a shuris standing up.”

The human nodded. “A little, yes. It’s actually a word, and a symbol, from a very ancient language on Earth called Hebrew. The word is ‘Chai’.”

“‘Kai’?” the cub repeated as best she could.

“Yes, very close. The word means ‘Life’. It’s very important, because Life is very important. Life Always Matters: our own, and others. We... We can’t always save every life. But we can save what life we can. Including ourselves.

My mother gave me this when I was younger than you. When she died, when I was about your age now, this gave me comfort. It reminded me that though she was gone, that I was still alive, and that I still remembered her, and keep her alive in my heart. I lived for her, and did good for her. And you can live for your Mom and Dad, and do good, too.” She slipped it over K’Niri’s head.

The cub looked at it like it was some magic amulet. “Thank you, Lady Sasha!”

Duro looked to her uncertainly. “Yes, thank you for that very generous gift, but... are you sure you wish to give something like that away, Sasha?”

She rose and helped the old male to his feet. “It did what it was meant to do for me. Now, hopefully, it might do the same for your grandcub. I’d like to stay in touch with you both, if I may.”

He smiled and hugged her. “You will always be welcome at our home.”

“You want to come now?” K’Niri asked expectantly, still clutching onto the pendant like it was the greatest of treasures.

Sasha reached out and tousled her mane. “Sorry, Sport. I have to go back to my home... and straighten out a few things with my family.”

*

Sasha returned to find Hrelle and Kami still sitting together at the beach with her siblings, the adults looking up, Hrelle looking worried and expectant. “Welcome home.”

“Sass!” Sreen declared.

“Thanks.” She sat cross-legged down on the grass opposite them, sticking her tongue out at Sreen, who was on her belly, trying to push herself up onto her paws and knees. Then she sighed. “Look, let me just get this off of my bountiful chest: I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted, I know I haven’t handled things well, I need help, I’m not quitting Starfleet or anything, I’m going back into space but I’ll continue Counseling. And cut down on the drinking. But not the sex. It’s good exercise.”

Kami looked to her husband. “She’s not wrong.”

“Sass!” Sreen repeated more intently, as if wanting to show her tremendous physical feat.

“Well?” Sasha prompted, still looking at her father and kin-mother. “Will you clear me for duty again or not?”

He leaned back, crossing his arms and sniffing, trying to look annoyed. “You went to Roscoe’s, and didn’t bring back shuris and waffles?”

She smiled. “Would you believe I gave my food to a hungry cub with a case of hero worship for me?”

The frown on Hrelle’s face melted. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

“Sass!” Sreen snapped with impatience.

And began crawling towards her big sister to get her attention.

*

The Matriarchy Council table was big and round and made from highly-polished sablewood, and either it was coated in something indestructible, or everyone who had ever sat at it somehow maintained the discipline not to claw at it in frustration at the inevitable frustration triggered by the political machinations flung about here. Ma’Sala suspected the latter.

Still, as she moved onto the next topic of discussion, she comforted herself with the possibility that after today, she’ll be voted out and not come back here. “I wish to talk about the disposition of the Ferasan non-combatants in Bahari Province.”

“Oh? Are your Starfleet friends finally ready to remove them, Madame Minister?” Governor K’Trierr asked sweetly.

Ma’Sala controlled her reaction. No, you privileged kussik, you won’t kink my tail and throw me off my course. “No. Nor do I expect it to happen any time in the near future; the Starfleet and Federation resources required to locate a suitable world and transport the approximately 1,250 surviving Ferasans – both the non-combatant females and cubs, and the males found not guilty of war crimes by the investigators – is currently not available, with the Dominion War still ongoing.

And they can’t stay indefinitely in Bahari either; the rainy season is imminent there, and the facilities present would not be able to cope with the increased health and sanitation requirements.”

“Well then,” K’Trierr ventured. “In the absence of actual help, perhaps Starfleet could offer a strategically-targeted torpedo?”

Ma’Sala glared at her. “That’s not funny.”

“Madame Minister,” It was Mayor Des P’Rarash from Shanos Major, as cognisant as everyone else present to the animosity between the two females. “Did you have an alternative location for them in mind?”

“Yes, Mr Mayor. Further westward, on the southern tip of Sa’Ran Province south of Lake Meru, there’s Hope: an extensive housing project that had been built thirty years ago, but was then abandoned due to lack of interest in living in such a remote location, and has been left unclaimed and untouched. I’ve had scouts inspect the area: most of the stone houses and complexes were built well, and still stand, energy generation and water treatment plants can be reactivated, and there’s an abundance of local fish and game, and land nearby for cultivating.”

“But they’ll hardly be here long enough to cultivate anything,” another Council member asked, adding more tentatively, “Will they, Madame Minister?”

Ma’Sala breathed in. “I wish to tender the motion that we offer them permanent residence on Cait. With the potential for Caitian citizenship.”

The room went silent.

Then K’Trierr asked, “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

The response triggered more from others, with vocal expressions of disbelief and outrage. Ma’Sala gauged who was the loudest, and how great the opposition could be, who to focus on, persuade.

Yes, this was very much like battle.

She raised an open palm to be given a chance to explain. “I know that what I’m proposing is controversial-”

“Controversial?” K’Trierr echoed. “It’s positively treasonous! To want to give permanent shelter on the Motherworld to our most hated enemies? You have no business remaining in office with such perfidious notions!”

“What kind of talk is this?” another demanded.

“You have no right to even suggest that!”

“Who in the Seven Hells do you think you are?”

She looked to the Councilmember who asked that. “I think I am the female who has spent almost her entire life defending the Motherworld from our enemies. So I think I can recognise them when I see them.”

She reached to her PADD and started the sequences she had planned.

Behind her, a viewscreen began displaying recordings she took from the Bahari camp: the mournful, fearful females, their cubs, looking for their fathers and brothers and husbands, not yet able or accepting that they will never return. Lost.

“These are not our enemies,” Ma’Sala declared, without having to look at the recordings again. “These are not the leaders who ruled Ferasa with an iron fist, who subjected their females to patriarchal suppression and who twisted innocent young males into embracing toxic masculinity.

These are not the Pridemasters who led the attack upon our world, who ordered the destruction of Shanos Minor and set up the terrible camps. These are not the Pack Leaders who murdered and raped and looted, or the Soldiers who followed their orders.

All of those Ferasans, the ones responsible for the crimes committed against us, are now dead. Dead under my orders. Dead under those who fought them tooth and claw. Dead at the paws of the mobs that have sprung up following our victory, delivering street vengeance. Those Ferasans have reaped what they’ve sown.

These people, however, are guilty of nothing more than being Ferasan. That is no crime, as far as I am aware of. They are now without a world, a home, without leadership or guidance, without direction or support. And they still face the problem of genetic decrepitude, something that we, because of our medical technology and common ancestral kinship, can assist them with. Without our help, now or in the near future, they will die.”

“Let them die!” K’Trierr hissed, pointing at the screen. “I don’t care if they might not have done anything to us! They are Ferasans! If they stay here and we help them, they’ll just breed more killers! Savagery is as much a part of their DNA as their sabreteeth and rat tails! And it’s obscene that you even suggest we have anything in common with them! We would never kill innocents as they have done!”

“Yes. We would. And we have. What you will now see and hear is classified and protected under Section 47 of the Security of Information Act, and will not leave this room. 

She keyed in another sequence, one she had hoped she wouldn’t have to display. The images of the Ferasans were replaced by the recordings of the Seven Hells Weapon. “The Ferasans did not accidentally destroy their own world. It was a deliberate act... caused by this device. A secret, illegal weapon, an alien planet killer, that our ancestors discovered during the Exodus, and which has been kept in our arsenal for nearly a millennium. A device deployed on my authority, as granted to me by the previous First Minister and the previous Matriarchy Council, to prevent a second invasion from being launched against us.”

The Council stared up at it in rapt astonishment, P’Rarash looking pale as he breathed, “B-But... the news, the security bulletins...”

“A necessary subterfuge, to spare us censure from the Federation for genocide... and to keep other worlds from learning of such a device and attempting to create one of their own. A subterfuge, I might add, assisted by one of the Ferasans themselves, one who wished to help make up for the crimes committed by his people against us.

I do not regret my actions,” Ma’Sala continued. “Only that I was put in a position where I believed I had no choice, where I had to either kill millions of their innocents, or allow them to kill millions of our innocents.”

“This subterfuge” K’Trierr sneered, “Was it to spare us censure? Or you? You deployed this weapon, not us! We – our world – can’t be held to blame for the actions of one war criminal-”

“Oh shut up already, Nel!” snapped another Councilmember. “As if you wouldn’t have launched such a weapon! As if any of us wouldn’t have! And you would have stood naked at the top of the Capitol and sung about it to the Galaxy if you thought it would help make you First Minister, and damn the consequences!”

K’Trierr hissed at her colleague, before focusing once again at Ma’Sala. “You can’t expect this to remain hidden, can you? Someone will leak it out, and blame you.”

“‘Someone’,” another Councilmember smirked.

“Well, I certainly hope not, for your sake,” Ma’Sala replied calmly. “Since our unofficial meeting earlier this week, you’ve been in the news, claiming to have been involved with all of my decisions during the Resistance. Of course, everyone here knows you did this to quash any rumours about your lack of action during the Occupation. But still, I’m told that in Politics, Image is Everything. If I burn for this, so will you.”

“So will all of us,” a third Councilmember chuckled. “With this revelation, you’ve stymied K’Trierr, and retroactively implicated all of us in the conspiracy. You’re a natural born politician, Ma’Sala.”

The former Fleet Captain grunted. “I don’t know whether to feel complimented or insulted about that.”

“But Ma’Sala,” a fourth Councilmember interjected. “We’re struggling to rebuild our own society, to treat, feed and shelter our own people. You would have us divert much-needed resources to help aliens?”

The First Minister looked around at them. “They are not aliens. We once shared a world, a culture together. They are our brothers and sisters.

We revere the Great Mother and Her teachings about the embracing of mercy and forgiveness, compassion and charity as virtues... but we don’t always heed them. We’ll select the parts we like, put conditions to them, make exceptions, distort them to fit around our fears and angers and prejudices.

The victims in the Bahari camp – and make no mistake, they are in their own ways as much victims of their former government, their culture, as we have been – need the kind of help, the kind of example, only we can provide them. Their ancestors set them upon a dark, self-destructive path. We can help lead them back to the light.”

She rose to her feet, resting her paws on the table. “I now call upon the Council to vote on my proposal. Should the majority reject it, I’ll tender my resignation, leave, and then you can vote on my successor.

Well?”

*

The main dining hall in the Shall Clanhouse was the first to be completed, and quickly furnished and powered to accommodate the family for a farewell meal.

“Hmph,” Mi’Tree grunted, setting down the plates and cutlery. “I still think it’s a bloody cheek, offering their kind a place here after all that’s happened.”

“Hush, Papa,” Kami chided, helping him as the others followed suit. “It was a generous act of charity on Mama’s part, worthy of a First Minister...” She looked to Ma’Sala. “And I’m glad the Council agreed with you.”

“Barely,” her mother clarified, setting out the glasses. “It helped when I added the security advantages of having the Ferasans where we can keep an eye on them.”

“Mama...”

“Well, I’m pleased that you didn’t have to resign,” Bneea commented. “Otherwise with you retired from the Navy and Secret Service as well, I’d have had you underfoot full time.” He pointed a fork at Mi’Tree. “At least I’ll have that prettytail out of my fur soon now that they’re restarting the Taleteller show.”

“You’ll miss having me around full time,” he assured his husband.

“Like I’d miss a dose of fleas in the nethers.”

Misha giggled as he took a seat beside his baby sister’s high chair.

“Well, with Valtiri as their representative and teacher,” Hrelle noted, working the cork on the bottle of wine. “They’ll have a much better influence than any Patriarch or Pridemaster.”

“They won’t be restricted to Hope?” Sasha asked. “Will they, Grandma?”

“No, Grandcub. They may stay apart until they get settled, and until we eventually work out a solution to their genetic issues, but they won’t be second-class citizens... at least, not legally. Shaping people’s perceptions of them will take time, however.”

“Not if Papa Mi’Tree brings one of the Ferasan cubs onto his show?” Kami suggested. “He made great strides with people’s perceptions of Neurodystraxia after Sreen’s first appearance on the Taleteller.”

Mi’Tree grunted. “That was different. Sreen is adorable; Ferasan cubs are hideous.”

Misha pointed a finger at his grandfather. “No cubs are ugly, Grumpy! No judging people by how they look!”

Mi’Tree harrumphed. “Lectured by my own grandcub... who taught you such drivel?”

“You did! When you read Horta Hears a Hoo on your show!”

Hrelle chuckled as everyone took their seats, and he walked around the table, pouring wine into the glasses, looking at Sasha. “You ready to get back onto the Ajax, Runt of the Litter?”

She smiled. “Strangely enough, yes. I’ll miss home, and family, but it’ll be good getting back into a familiar routine, and seeing familiar faces. I heard Jim Madison is taking Command courses now to move up the ladder.”

“Who’s he?” Bneea asked, smiling. “A boyfriend?”

“Ex-Boyfriend.”

“You no have sex!” Misha warned her. “I told Uncle Weynik that! Too much sex makes you dopey and walk funny!”

As the family laughed, Sasha grinned at her little brother...  before dropping the grin. “Wait... you did tell Weynik that, didn’t you?”

Misha nodded. “I told him if you do, to put you in Horny Jail!”

As everyone laughed again, Hrelle took a place near his wife, C’Rash and T’Varik, and looked around. “Well, before we serve up the takeaway from Stonebay, perhaps a toast? Misha, you’re allowed a little wine, if you promise not to get drunk and rowdy.”

“May I start?” Sasha asked, reaching for her glass at the nod from her father. She lifted it up by the stem. “L’Chaim: It means ‘To Life’. It is a toast made by my ancestors, to remind us that Life Matters, because it is precious and fragile and fleeting, and so every moment of life we have is a gift to be treasured, and every life we help save, including our own, is a victory.” She raised her glass higher. “To Life.”

The others copied her. “To Life.”

*

Hrelle breathed in the familiar air of the Surefoot Bridge as he stepped through the doors, took in the lights and sounds and the scents of the familiar and the new crew around him, as C’Rash, back at her station, announced, “Captain on the Bridge!”

He smiled, stepping down to greet T’Varik, wearing her Commander’s pips once more, and standing beside her former First Officer Commander Murphy. “Commanders, I thank you for keeping my ship in one piece while I was on shore leave.” He offered a paw to Murphy. “I understand you’re on your way to your own command now, Mr Murphy? The Messenger, is it?”

The human male, who strangely had a faint scent of Klingon about him, nodded and accepted the paw. “Yes, Captain. And I’ve learned a lot from my time here. You have an amazing ship and crew.”

Hrelle smiled and nodded. “Thank you. I couldn’t agree more.”

“I will escort Commander Murphy to the Transporter Room,” T’Varik informed Hrelle. “Perhaps you would like to take the Captain’s Chair again, Sir? Assuming you can remember which one it is?”

He frowned.

She remained deadpan.

“Dismissed.” They departed. Hrelle made a show of pretending to be insulted, before making a show of not knowing which seat was his.

Yes, it was good to be back.

*

Weynik led the way through the narrow corridors of the Ajax, continuing to brief Sasha as they continued. “...had some upgrades to the shield configuration, adopting some metaphasic algorithms. Don’t worry, you’ll have time to catch up with the ship logs before you’re expected to get back in the harness.”

She nodded, struggling a little with all her possessions, and with the slightly higher gravity and lower oxygen content onboard. Or maybe it was all those shuris and waffles and whiskey you’ve been stuffing down your neck, Tubby? she asked herself. “How’s Mr Kohanim been?”

“If he had hair, he’d have pulled it out long before now in frustration at the Second Officers we’ve had substituted for you.” The Roylan stopped and looked back at her, more confidentially adding, “We also had installed an EMH with Counseling subroutines. You won’t have to book remote transmission times for your sessions.”

She nodded. Once, she would have resented having to admit that she needed help. “Thank you, Sir.”

They resumed their walk towards the quarters... stopping outside of Engineering as they heard the familiar swearing from Chief Maryk. Weynik popped his head inside. “Everything okay, Helga?”

The petite, red-headed Chief of Engineering glared in the direction of the doorway. “It will be, Captain, Sir, when certain members of my crew learn to get out of my way and not let themselves get stepped on!”

Sasha grinned – not at Maryk, who remained as charming as ever, but the man standing beside her and grinning back: Engineering Assistant Jim Madison, a huge mountain of a human who had once been intimate with Sasha, before unfortunate circumstances split them, though they had parted amicably. He remained handsome, charming, built like a brick starbase-

Then she checked herself, realising she needed to focus on her duty, and on her recovery, now that she was back. Oh Baby Brother, you may have been smarter than you know.

“Mr Madison hardly seems small enough to get stepped on,” Weynik quipped.

“I mean the new idiots you’ve sent me to get their tails in the way!”

On cue, a uniformed figure with a tail emerged backwards from a Jefferies Tube, as Lt Mru Mori straightened up and said, “Sorry about that, Chief-” The Caitian stopped and looked at Sasha.

She stared back. “You’re onboard? Oh, shit.”

Weynik looked at the exchange between the junior officers. “Do I have to get the Horny Jail ready?”

*

The lands were rich, verdant, with healthy, fruit-bearing vegetation carpeting the surrounding hills, sheltering the many empty buildings that seemed to trickle down like a river to a wide bay that opened onto the Sea of Sa’Ran. Only a dilapidated sign proclaiming the site as the future development of the Hope Springs Township seemed out of place.

Valtiri stopped and breathed in the fresh, clean air. “Invigorating, isn’t it, Pilot?”

The younger Ferasan male, now in civilian clothes provided for him following his release from the holding camp, looked around a little more warily, his thin tail twitching warily. “It’s not Ferasa Prime.”

“You’re right; the air on Ferasa Prime was tainted with centuries of industrial pollutants. I could see the effects reaching even my remote former home. We let our precious world be poisoned for profit and power. The Caitians, however, understand the Truth.”

“The Truth, Sire?”

The former Hunter Prime, now the Leader of the surviving Ferasans on Cait, nodded. “That a world does not belong to any of the lifeforms that live upon it, rather that they belong to it. We did not spin the tapestry of life, we are a thread within it, and we must regard the world – any world we find ourselves upon – as precious as our mothers.” He took the leather-bound book he carried under his arm and held it up. “From the Great Mother’s Book of Truths, given to me by Captain Hrelle before he departed, as he had promised.”

Pilot looked back, to see more of their people arriving, carrying belongings, assisted by Starfleet and some Caitian specialists, taking in the place that would be their home now. “And you really think the Caitians will all be happy to have us here, instead of away on some planetoid somewhere?”

“No,” Valtiri admitted, looking up at several large birds circling in the sky. “I think some will only be happy to see us all dead. Rightly or wrongly, many will only see our faces, know our histories, and judge us.”

“Then why did you accept this arrangement?”

Valtiri turned to face him. “Because our peoples, the Caitians and the Ferasans, need to heal. We can’t do that exiled into deep space. It won’t be easy for us; we have a lot to be forgiven for. But then so the Caitians... though most will never even know how much. But we will heal.

And this place... this Hope... has still been given to us by the Caitians, despite everything that our people have done to them. ‘Mercy is at its most valuable when offered to those you least wish to accept it.’”

“Another Truth from your book?”

“Our book, Cub. It was ours once, long ago, and it is again. We’ll settle here, start new lives, ensure that Honour and Justice, Mercy and Compassion become our watchwords again.” He looked up again at the large birds – keserties, he believed they were called – and reached out with his mind. Hello there. He didn’t know if he could connect with any life here. Perhaps he was too alien to be heard? He outstretched his arm. I won’t hurt you.

One swooped down, making Pilot back away instinctively as it perched onto Valtiri’s outstretched arm.

He smiled.

*

On that very same spot, many years from now, many centuries from now in fact, a furred, tailed Teacher stood in a beautiful garden on Cait, holding a book. It was a heavy, ancient book, a book that had been carefully passed down from generation to generation. A book that was now open in one paw, as the Teacher taught her class.

“And thus the Truths of the Great Mother remain, My Cubs, as clear and unignorable and eternal as the sun that shines in our sky:

That Life Matters, in all its forms. That none of us are alone. That none of us are better or worse than any other for what we are, none of us more or less worthy than any other. That what makes us distinct from each other is to be treasured, not feared. That we are each other’s concern, each other’s burden, each other’s goal. That the freedoms and privileges we enjoy must apply to all, or they will apply to none. That acts of mercy and compassion and kindness never die, they live on, and beget more, and those they beget, beget even more, driving down the darkness of hate and indifference.

And that with each new generation, there comes a renewal, a renewal of the promise that if we keep these Truths alive, we can survive... together. We must survive together.

If we have no future together, we have no future.”

She closed her book softly. “These Truths are yours to keep. Yours to pass on to your cubs for them to keep.” She looked over her class and smiled. “We have not done badly so far.”

The rapt faces of cubs stared back at her. Cubs born Caitian, Ferasan, Human, Vulcan, Klingon, Cardassian, and many others. Cubs born with heritages blended from all these races, and more. None better or worse than any other for what they were, none more or less worthy than any other.

All equal.

All together.

All ready to keep these Truths, and pass them on…

THE END