The Art of Being Broken

Station Salem One, Deck 1, Commodore's Family Quarters - 0612 Hrs:

Kami heard the alert chirp at the bedside, heard her husband rise up and leave the bedroom, careful not to disturb their cubs in the adjacent room. She lay there, knowing she wouldn’t get back to sleep until she knew what the alert was about, and after a couple of minutes rose and followed Esek out into the living room, where he was getting dressed. He glanced in her direction, whispering, “Sorry.”

She drew up, where he had dropped his uniform and boots, straightening them out and handing them to him as and when required. “What’s happened?”

“Report from the Tangshan: they were fired upon by a Paserak tribeship near Ucarro.”

“Casualties?”

“None, but they took damage.” He made a sound, ensuring his tail slipped out through the back of his trousers before accepting his jacket.

“Why would the Paserak attack one of our ships?”

“Good question. They’re still in the system… along with other Paserak tribes, and unidentified vessels.”

Kami nodded, kneeling to help him into his boots. “Neheru’s a good Captain.”

“He’s also the least combat-experienced among the Squadron. I may have to divert the Ulyanov or Prospero to assist… and we’re already one short out there with the Katana here being repaired.” He fidgeted with the Commodore’s bars on his collar, his furry fingers struggling. “I probably won’t make it to brunch with you and Sasha.”

His wife stood up, taking over from him. “She’ll understand; and after all she and Mru have been through, she might want to talk privately anyway. I’d tell you to remember to eat something, but-”

“-But we both know that’s hardly necessary with me. Especially with Zir around feeding me pastries and coffee.”

She rubbed the side of her muzzle against his. “You could tell her to bring you a salad or grapefruit instead.”

“Yes. I could.” His tone suggested – no, advertised – what he thought of that notion, however facetiously.

Then she drew back, looking into his eyes. “Bugger off now, I have another two hours of sleep awaiting me.”

“Okay, Sugartail.” Then he licked the tip of her snout and departed, barely avoiding a smack on his rear.

Kami stood there in the darkness of the living room, growling to herself as she brought up the lights and moved to the replicator for her breakfast, before activating the desktop terminal to review her schedule; there was no way in the Seven Hells that she was getting back to sleep now. Still, at least she had a busy day ahead of her.

*

0710 Hrs:

Sreen raised the spoon in the air like a sword, oblivious to the remains of porridge dropping down from it, as her song carried across the main room. “I eat, I eat, I eat, and I poop! I eat, I eat, I eat, and I poop! Poop, poop, poop!”

Sitting beside his little sister, Misha laughed and snorted until milk came out of his nose. He wiped it on his sleeve and pointed at her. “Yeah, you do, Baby Sreen! You’re the Poop Queen!” Then he made raspberry sounds in punctuation, triggering laughter from Sreen as she threw her spoon away, picking up the bowl before her and licking clean the remains.

Kami walked in briskly, lifting up the spoon and taking the bowl from her daughter. “I think that’s quite enough poop talk, thank you very much.”

Sreen watched the departing bowl and spoon go to the replicator alcove for recycling. “Hey! That’s mine!” She shook a stubby fist. “You Bad Mama! I tell Grandma on you! She fix you good!”

“I’m shaking in my space boots.” Kami returned, wiping Sreen’s muzzle and lifting her up out of her chair. “Misha, you’re done, get your things in the recycler and then get your PADD, we’ll get you to school early.”

“I can’t go.”

She stopped and stared at him. “And why not?”

Misha didn’t look up at his mother. “Abby and Thykras made me forget to do my History homework last night.”

“Oh, your friends made you forget. How did they do that?”

He looked up at her and nodded enthusiastically, his eyes wide. “Thykras got a new game, Triskelion! You put your pieces on three different-”

He stopped as she raised a paw to him. “And when I asked you last night before you went to bed if you had done it all, you said Yes.”

“I forgot!” His muzzle quivered, as if ready to cry, an expression to melt anyone’s heart.

Anyone who wasn’t a mother who had seen it all before, that is. “That’s okay, Son of Mine. All you have to do is go to school and explain to Mr Talbok what happened… and I will send him a message confirming that I will support any punishment he deems fit for you.”

Misha’s jaw dropped. “B-But he’ll only give me more to do!”

She nodded in agreement. “But you’ll have plenty of time when I forbid you from seeing or contacting your friends outside of school for the next two days.”

He scowled now. “That’s not fair! You can’t do that!”

She remained composed. “Now it’s three days. And I’ll add more days to it the more you try to keep telling me what I can and can’t do. I’ll also have your PADDs monitored to alert me when you have outstanding homework or study.” She pointed a finger at him. “And if you dare to try and contact your Papa and complain, you’ll have double the punishment. He’s far too busy protecting this sector and everyone under his command to have to listen to you whine like a cub about something you know you did wrong, is that clear?” Now she pointed to his PADD, on a nearby table. “Now get going, without another word.”

Misha’s scowl somehow augmented, and he made a show of loudly extracting himself from his chair, pushing it forward under the table, and stomping to his PADD.

Still nestled in Kami’s arms, Sreen shook her own finger at her big brother, imitating her mother. “You mind your ways, Little Man!”

Kami made her daughter face her. “Thank you, Daughter of Mine, but I don’t need your input, especially in my own voice. And I don’t need you to throw your spoon around, either, is that clear?”

The toddler regarded her mother’s orders.

Then replied, in her father’s voice, “Okay, Sugartail,” before licking Kami’s snout.

*

Deck 6, Gymnasium 1 - 0732 Hrs

Kami expected it to be busy at this time of morning, with off-duty personnel and cadets utilising the three gymnasiums and holodecks for various exercises. Still, she came, took a moment to adjust to the heady stew of sweat scents from the various races that lived here, and was prepared to give up and return to her quarters to wake up her cubs.

Then she saw Sasha Hrelle and Mru Mori in one corner, dressed in loose-fitting sweatclothes and standing on exercise mats, facing each other and engaging in K’Gressir training. Kami stood and watched, not as interested in their fighting skills – she knew that Mru would be proficient in their people’s martial arts as Kami was, while Sasha would be better than both of them, a psychological compensation for long-standing doubts the human had about her adoption of Caitian culture – but in their general emotional states.

It had been days since the arrival of the Katana for repairs following an intense battle, which resulted in Mori being blown out into space through a breach, and Sasha having to leap out without an exosuit to rescue him. Physically, of course, both had been healed and cleared by the medical staff on the Katana and in Salem One. 

But Kami knew that was more to recovery than the physical, and though she wasn’t their personal Counselor, she was close to them both – and in the case of Sasha, she was like a second mother to that brave, generous, complicated young woman.

And that brave, generous, complicated young woman was currently holding back, pulling her punches, obviously still worried about her lover’s condition. The Caitian male, on the other paw, was holding back himself, for whatever reasons: maybe he was worried about himself, or her, or both.

Young love… “I can think of better ways to exercise without even leaving your bed.”

Sasha and Mru stopped and drew back, facing Kami, Sasha smiling at her surrogate mother. “Yeah, I don’t think we can take on the Kzinti using those skills.”

“Bet I could,” Mru quipped.

Sasha slapped him playfully, before wrapping an arm around his waist. “Hey, that piece of yours belongs to me! I’ve got my name on it!” To Kami she joked, “Literally, when he was asleep. Wanna have a look?”
“Thank you, I’ll pass.” She looked between them. “Seriously, though, you two should be getting rest after all you’ve been through.”

“It’s a big bad Galaxy out there, Mama,” Sasha replied, shrugging. “We gotta stay sharp, like a blade.”

“Blades break when you work them too much. If you really want a challenge, manage two cubs.”

“I thought T’Varik’s nephew was playing Big Brother to them,” Sasha noted.

“Srithik’s currently on the Surefoot with her – which reminds me, I have to call T’Varik about extending some of her crew’s time here, to help Urad’s recovery.” Kami waved the couple off. “No exercise for me, my day will be busy enough, I think.”

*

Deck R1 - Conference Room 6 - 0813 Hrs:

The conference rooms on this section of the station were in a row, with connecting walls that were clear by default but could be darkened or shielded for privacy and security when required. These weren’t this morning, however, and Kami could see through the layers of transparent aluminium to the room where Esek was briefing Captains Sternhagen and Weynik, and Lt Cmdr Salvo on the ongoing security situation. 

He looked agitated, ready to snap off heads, and Weynik looked just as ready to snap back. Stay calm, Husband of Mine. They need you to be their rock-

“Counselor?”

She chided herself as she returned to her reason for being in that room: the weekly meeting for the station and Squadron Counselors on her staff. “Sorry.” She reached out to the table control and darkened the walls. “We’ve had a 20% increase in requests for non-mandatory Counseling sessions, which is hardly a surprise given the recent security incidents. A majority have been from cadets or inexperienced Starfleet or civilian personnel, which again is hardly a surprise.

Most will require only short-term trauma recovery assistance, but it will tax all of us, so I’ve asked for some temporary staff, but in the meantime I’ve asked for some help closer at hand.” She indicated Counselor Bas Vestri, from the Katana, at the end of the table. “Dr Vestri has generously given up the rest of her leave while her ship is being repaired to help out. Thank you again, Bas.”

The Denobulan female nodded. “My pleasure, Kami; I was getting bored beating everyone at Poker anyway.”

Kami smiled back, but looked back at her staff. “I know it will be pushing us, but our help is at least as vital as the medical staff managing the physical well-being of those in our care – but keep an eye on the cadets, they’re more vulnerable. Does anyone have any other business?”

Nearest her, Counselor Peter Boone raised a hand. The handsome blonde-haired young man had proven to be one of the most promising members of her staff, especially when dealing with the cadets stationed on Salem One; he possessed an enviable combination of youth and maturity, the latter chiefly due to being a young father to Abby, one of Misha’s friends. “I have a referral regarding one of the cadets… one I don’t think should wait to go through the normal protocols.”

Kami nodded, sensing the earnestness behind his request, looking to the rest. “I’ve sent the additional requests to your respective mailboxes, I need to see them fitted into your schedules before the day’s out. Dismissed.” Once they were alone, she focused on Peter. “So, who are we talking about?”

He lifted up his PADD. “Security Cadet Ange Boladede, Macbeth Squad. His squadmates raised concerns about an alleged infatuation with a senior officer. Now, I know that sort of thing happens – I remember having a rather embarrassing crush on Doc Masterson when I first boarded the Surefoot – but this has manifested in acts of denial and aggression, which prompted me to access his personal logs. They were heavily encrypted, beyond the standard, but Security assisted in retrieving and opening them.” He held out the PADD to her.

She frowned at his words as she accepted it; she normally avoided invading personal privacy, except in extreme cases. “Which senior officer are we talking about-”

The images she found answered her question. She skimmed through them quickly, identifying the genuine ones, public news images along with covertly-recorded ones from around the station, as opposed to the far more explicit, computer-generated offerings.

“There’s more,” Peter added. “In addition to the images and text about Lt Cmdr Hrelle, there are some disturbing hostile references to Lt Mori, Mr Boladede’s self-appointed ‘rival’ for her attention.”

She kept examining the data, never looking up. “You completed the proper SAR-4 Security Retrieval Requests for these? No problems there? Security knows not to disclose the contents of the logs?”

“No problems, Counselor; Lt Cmdr Salvo herself authorised and managed it, and promised non-disclosure as per Regulations.” He paused. “I- I haven’t overreacted, have I, Counselor?”

She shut down the PADD and set it on the table, suppressing her revulsion at some of the artificial images. “No, Peter, your instincts were correct, and as far as I can see, you followed procedure correctly; leave this with me, and of course, say nothing about what you’ve seen.” Now she smiled. “And how are you and Abby doing? And Bill?”

Peter flushed a little. “Bill and I are taking it slow; he’s still in recovery following his experiences in the War. And I had to scold Abby because of some new game she was playing last night.”

“Yes, Misha mentioned he played it with Abby and Thykras, something called ‘Triskelion’. It apparently made him ‘forget’ to do his History homework. You have similar problems with Abby?”

“With homework, no, it was the game itself, once I looked into it. Triskelion is based on an actual planet, where they used to kidnap people and force them to fight to the death like gladiators. The board game recreates that with holographic pieces… and very explicit holographic kills.”

Kami’s expression tightened with alarm. “Misha’s not playing something like that again. Thank you for letting me know.”

“Will you be talking with Thykras’ parents about his playing the game?”

“I would have to be careful about that; his parents may be in Starfleet, but I have no authority over their choices of recreation for their child, unless they were putting him in danger. But I can at least tell them why Misha will be forbidden from playing it again.” She breathed in. “We need to talk about Urad…”

*

Deck 8, Astrometrics Lab - 0842 Hrs:

Kami slowed her pace as she left the turbolift and approached the small party of engineers waiting at the door outside, offering the necessary professional mein, even as she reacted to the clamour within. “Mr Quan?”

Engineering Crewman Quan Hui straightened up formally, though the young Asian man still glanced inside the lab on and off. “Counselor, I’m sorry about calling you- perhaps I should have called the Chief first, but I didn’t want to get her in trouble-”

She waved off his doubts. “You did the right thing. Go now, all of you, report to the Chief, and tell him I’ll speak with him afterwards.”

Quan looked inside tentatively once more, whispering, “Are you sure-”

“Yes. Go, please, it’ll be harder for her with spectators.” She shooed him and the others away, and stood in the doorway, assessing the scene.

Astrometrics had been at least partially wrecked, with broken screens and workstations, and claw marks on walls and panels and chairs overturned. And the source of the damage, the Paserak technician, Fraqueza, in the far corner, arms wrapped around herself, tail dipped and still, eyes milked white in her reptoid race’s instinctive reaction to fear and trauma.

Kami stepped inside. Fraqueza hissed at her, sharp rows of teeth bared.

“Impressive,” Kami stopped and noted. “And had I been here when you lost control and did all this, I might have actually heeded that warning just now and stayed back. But we both know that moment’s passed, and now you just want to be left alone because you’re embarrassed and ashamed of your outburst.”

She continued forward, slowly, ignoring the subsequent hiss. “You have no need to be either. You had a good friend in Brad Wyatt, and because of the Dragon, he was murdered in a terrible way almost in front of you. You mourn him, and you realise how easily you could have been the Dragon’s victim instead, or as well. So there’s also the guilt of a survivor.”

When she was close enough, she dropped to one knee, meeting her height on the floor, holding out her paw invitingly. “You’ve done very well so far with me since then. But no one ever recovers or moves on from such trauma so easily. No one should.”

She watched, watched the reptoid’s mottled ruby hide shift colour patterns, watched the milky grey over the eyes fade as she regained her balance, and she retracted her teeth, finally taking Kami’s paw and letting her help the Paserak back to her feet. “I’m- I’m sorry-”

“I know you are, even if you have nothing to apologise for.”

Fraqueza glanced around the Lab, making a mournful sound. “Oh no… look at what I’ve done! The Chief will eat me alive!”

“David Sakai’s a vegetarian. And he understands full well what you have gone through, and how it has affected you. Now come with me.”

The technician started to resist. “N-No! I have to clean all this up-”

“No, you have to come with me. There are plenty of cadets on the station requiring Punishment Duty who will be more than happy to take care of all this.”

She wrapped an arm around the shorter female and led her out.

*

Deck 5, Hospital Post-Operative Recovery - 0935 Hrs:

Kami walked up to the rest of Alpha Squad: Peter, Tori Emoto, Zir Dassene, Stalac, and Astrid Michel. She had a flashback to when all of them had last been assembled, on the Surefoot, after the traumatic events of the Battle of Khavak. And now, here they were again, in the wake of another trauma regarding one of their own. This was not how friends should be reuniting. “Thank you for waiting for me. I know Peter, Stalac and Zir have visited Urad before today, but that was when he was still unconscious and receiving treatment for his wounds, but now that he is awake, I wanted to prepare all of you what to expect.

Physically, he has recovered, though his time off has reduced his stamina considerably. It’s his psychological state that still needs healing. He will be unresponsive, withdrawn, reluctant to look you in the eye. Afraid of facing the future, after what he’s undergone. Don’t take it personally, don’t push him, don’t force him to engage. Keep it friendly, keep it light, talk about what’s going on in your lives now. Let him be reminded that he has had happier times… and can do it again.”

“Will he be okay?” Tori asked, the young woman still recovering herself from the shock of her friend’s injuries.

Kami expected it, knowing of the bond Tori held with Urad, who had saved her from a Cardassian assault onboard the Surefoot during Khavak. “Urad – all of you – have experienced severe trauma of one kind or another. You know there are steps towards healing, not all taken at the same duration, or in sequence, or on schedule.” 

She noticed Zir, who was definitely not herself, staying in the background, distracted and withdrawn and not leading her former squad in the interaction; the young Orion was probably feeling guilty again at being here instead of assisting the Commodore with the current crisis. “We can offer all the support and love we can, but ultimately, he will have to take the next steps-”

Her combadge chirped, as Lt Arik’s voice touched the air. “Counselor, that transmission you requested has opened now.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant, I’ll take it in my office.” She tapped the combadge to close the channel, looking to Peter. “Go on in, but if Urad gets too upset, end the reunion and we’ll schedule later.”

The young man nodded in understanding, though Astrid noted, “We’re scheduled to take a runabout back to rendezvous with the Surefoot this afternoon, Counselor.”

Kami waved off the concerns. “You let me worry about that, Ensign.”

*

Deck 5, Chief Counselor’s Office - 0942 Hrs:

The Vulcan woman on the screen offered Kami an animated frown. “This is not the most convenient time for us to be without our Chief Helmsman or our Assistant Chief Engineer. In fact, it’s damn inconvenient!”

Kami blinked, leaning back in her chair as if to distance herself from her friend and colleague but otherwise not reacting or making note of it. “I know it was very magnanimous of you to let them come and visit their former squadmate, T’Varik. I’m just asking for a little more time. ”

The current Captain of the Surefoot grunted. “You always ask for ‘a little more’. It is your most vexing trait.”

“Oh, I doubt that. I’m sure Esek has a long, long list of things that are far annoying about me.”

Then T’Varik visibly composed herself. “Ensigns Emoto and Michel will be temporarily assigned to Commander Haluk and the Academy Annex, to provide appropriate instructions in their respective fields; such duties will benefit their overall performance records, while still allowing them time to assist in Ensign Kaldron’s recovery.”

Kami nodded. “An eminently logical suggestion, Captain. You are an inspiration to us all.”

T’Varik offered another, more graphic suggestion.

Kami remained nonchalant, folding her paws onto her lap. “Maybe when I was younger, and more limber. Now, let’s talk about what’s been affecting you. Is it C’Rash?”

The Vulcan swallowed, her composure returning again. “My wife has in fact been most supportive. It is my nephew.”

“Srithik? What’s he doing to get you worked up?”

“He has entered pon farr a year earlier than expected. Vulcans his age who are not bonded to a mate manage the time either through medications, strenuous solitary physical activity, or telepathic support from relations. As his guardian I have decided the last is the quickest, most efficacious means. He has stabilised now… but I have forgotten how intense Vulcan adolescence can be.”

Kami nodded in understanding… then smiled. “‘Strenuous solitary physical activity’? Are we talking about-”

“Yes.” She paused and added, “I have been compelled to move him out of our quarters and further away into guest quarters, to allow us to get to sleep.”

Kami laughed out loud.

“It is not amusing, Counselor.”

Kami laughed even more.

*

Deck 12 Starboard, Hangar Bay 1 - 1006 Hrs:

The enclosure, reaching up several decks, was dominated by the huge Sabre-class starship parked within, undergoing repairs. Despite the crews and the mechanised drones and devices milling around the vessel like insects around the carcass of a great beast, it was cold in here, the thinner walls of the hangar bay doors less protection than the main spaceframe of the rest of the station.

Kami ignored her breath ghosting before her as she strode from the lifts, seeking her target, catching the scent of the Roylan Captain moving about, angrily pointing at his ship as he barked orders at Chief Sakai’s and his own crew, looking to complete repairs on the Katana. “Do not make me come up there and show you how to use that phaser welder!”

“I’m sure she already knows,” Kami quipped. “You can tell from the Engineering Gold she’s wearing.”

Weynik looked in her direction, the diminutive male’s beady black eyes fixed on her, an animated contrast to the ossified, lime-green lionfish-like face surrounding it. “Oh, did Esek send you down here to sort me out?”

“No, but it’s simply adorable that you’d suggest even in jest that my husband can ‘send’ me anywhere. Shall we talk somewhere in private, or shall we set up a washing line here to hang out your proverbial dirty laundry in public?”

“I offer a third option: get back to the therapy room and get in touch with your feelings.” He turned his back to her.

She stayed where she was.

Finally he turned around again, saw her again, and harrumphed as he stomped away towards the Hangar Bay’s Mission Ready Room, continuing into the far corner of the room before turning around and snapping, “Bloody Hemra, I’m trying to get my ship repaired out there! Why can’t you just let me the Hell alone to get away from here, you nosy, interfering bitch?”

Kami stared at him, eyes wide, her snout quivering as tears welled up. “How- How can you treat me like this- after all our years together? I- I- I only wanted to help you-” She brought her paws up to her face as she turned away, sobbing.

He remained unmoved. “Are you done?”

She dropped her act and turned around again. “I’ve only just begun, Captain. What’s happened between you and Esek? Has he taken your ball and won’t give it back?”

“He won’t-” He stopped, scowling, pointing a finger at her, before lowering it again. “I asked for a transfer.”

She nodded, expecting it. “Asked, or demanded?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Asked no parent, ever.” She saw his reaction, and leaned against the wall, her tail swishing against the surface as she crossed her arms, having expected this, after getting the report from Vestri. “After the battle with that other ship, you were fine… until you returned here, and were reunited with your children, and were reminded of how easily they could have been left without you, and the Anger part of your PTSD surfaced.

Now, when Esek called you in for tactical support to deal with the latest crisis, and the notion of heading back out there suddenly resurfaced, you demanded the transfer, and pissed my husband off for doing that when he needed your input.”

Weynik glared at him. “Do you have Ops wired for sound?”

“Do you really think I need help knowing when the two of you are having a lovers’ spat?”

He glared at her, as if expecting more. When nothing more was forthcoming, he demanded, “What?”

“What, what?”

“Aren’t you going to do something?”

“What do you want? A sexy dance, an arm wrestling challenge, a singalong-”

“Isn’t this the point where you dispense some wisdom to me?”

She stared at him. “What do you need, that you haven’t already worked out for yourself? Everything you’ve felt and done since that battle out there – the nightmares, the fear, the anger, the denial, the desire to get yourself and your family away from anger, however futile and pointless such an attempt is – is perfectly natural.

All you really needed is the chance to stop, take a breath, and recognise it yourself.” She turned and departed, leaving him with, “You’re welcome.”

What he retorted with was best left in the room.

*

Deck 5, Recovery Room 1 - 1032 Hrs:

Kami entered the room, noting the alerts regarding the hypergravity field around the bed, as part of the occupant’s scheduled therapy for recovery for a Heavyworlder, and being careful for her not to get too close – physically, anyway. “Good morning, Urad. You’ll understand if I don’t come up and give you a hug, but I’d rather not suddenly weigh 240 kilos. Bad on the posture.”

On the large, low bed, a huge figure lay on his side, draped in loose-fitting hospital clothes, his massive muzzle resting deep into his pillow. His skin was grey and thick and mottled, back to what it was before the Dragon. His round ears, protruding behind his eyes, flicked occasionally. His eyes, big and dark, stared at the wall, not at her.

She took a seat. “It was quite pleasing to see your Alpha Squad together again. Tori and Astrid have really grown into their roles. In fact, I don’t think Tori even swore once when I was around. Of course, she might have been saving it all up for her best friend. Well?”

“No.”

“Even more impressive. I’m sorry to hear you ended the visit so soon, but don’t worry, I’ve arranged for Tori, Astrid and the others to remain available to you when you’re ready for company again.”

“No.”

She looked over at the breakfast tray, saw what had been eaten and drank, and what hadn’t, and knew why. “You’re still having trouble with fine motor coordination. Haven’t you been doing the finger exercises?”

“No.” 

“The room sensors tell me you’ve risen and used the lavatory twice since I last saw you: well done. Maybe you could try getting up for a shower next time? Not right now, though, I’m not a voyeur.”

“No.”

She rose again, moving herself back into his eyeline once more. “Your family is almost here. 350 light years is a long way to come to just get one-word answers from their youngest son… especially if he looks and smells as bad as you do right now. It’s going to make us look like we’re not taking care of you.”

Nothing now.

“Sit up, Ensign. That’s an order. And I know you well enough to know how important following orders is for you, both as an individual and a member of the Hroch.”

Now Urad slowly, reluctantly, sat up, staring ahead and pulling the sheets up to his throat as if cold and vulnerable. 

Vulnerable, certainly… “That’s better. Urad… we have talked about what happened to you. Whatever we can do to help with your body, we can’t help with your mind and spirit without your cooperation. We have healed your body. But only you can start the healing of your mind and spirit. I can’t spend the rest of my life just ordering you about.”

“No.”

“See? We’re in agreement now.”

He kept avoiding her gaze. “No, Comrade Counselor. I mean you will not have to do that, because I will not be in Starfleet any longer. I cannot hold a fork, much less a phaser. I cannot walk out of this room without my fear twisting me into knots.

I am broken. If Suditi, the Celestial Assayer of all my people’s qualities, was real and not just a myth, then She would judge me Weak.

No one can help me. Not even myself.”

Kami stared at him for a moment, before approaching the gravimetric perimeter line. Not stopping. Closer. Closer. She felt her fur stand up from the wall of gravitons that would seriously injure her should she even partially enter it.

Urad ignored her, but she saw that he perceived her approaching.

Then he finally reacted with alarm, holding up a massive hand to her. “NO! You’ll be hurt!”

Kami stopped, secretly grateful for the right response from him. “You’re not that broken, young man.”

*

Deck 5, Starjammers Cafe - 1105 Hrs:

Kami entered, only partly surprised to find only Sasha waiting for her at a quiet table, partially secluded from the rest of Broadway by foliage. “Oh, should I order a medical team to check on Mru?”

The young human smirked. “I’m not merciless; I left him an icepack and some hydration juice.” She picked up the menu PADD as Kami sat down opposite her, and keyed in her order. “No, with Weynik spending time with his family, Mru’s taking up some command duties following the repairs to the Katana.”

Kami took the menu PADD from her and entered her own order. “Well, then, I guess it’s just us two girls.” She set it down again. “Is it ‘us’ or ‘we’?”

“‘We’.”

“Are you sure? It doesn’t sound right.”

“Trust me, Mama, I have oral skills.”

Kami smirked. “I’m not taking the bait on that line.” She reached out with her paw and squeezed Kami’s hand. “It was an impressive move on your part, saving Mru the way you did.”

Sasha blushed, made a show of laughing it off. “All in a day’s work.”

“Jumping out of your ship into deep space without a spacesuit to save someone else is not in anyone’s day’s work.”

Now the girl shrugged. “Dad would have done it.”

“Yes,” Kami conceded, sitting back as their order arrived, and the snacks and coffee were set down on the table. “And I would have kicked his tail to the Motherworld and back for it. For you, however, I will only ask what you were thinking when you took such a risk.”

Sasha lifted up her coffee cup, stared into the black contents, let it swirl slightly in her hand as she considered her answer. “He’d been out there for half a minute at least before I even located him, probably didn’t have time to prepare himself when he was blown out of that breach on the Katana bridge. It would have taken me another minute to suit up and get out to him, and the subspace interference around us prevented me from just beaming him in. And I had prior experience surviving in a vacuum, so I could prepare for it.”

She drank, smacked her lips. “And I promise you, there was nothing grandiose or heroic about what I did. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I was scared shitless every single second of it, and afterwards. No Hellcat Hrelle mishegas.”

Kami lifted up her own mug and blew on it, studying the young woman she had bonded to since first meeting her, the woman who had grown and matured into the brave, loyal, capable and complicated individual… and believed her. “I’m very pleased to hear that. You have far too much to live for.”

“I agree.” She picked at her ham and cheese croissant, before continuing, “Can I ask your opinion on something? Something that’ll stay just between us?”

“Of course.”

Sasha stuck out her chin, as if considering her subsequent words, though Kami suspected she had replayed this conversation a hundred times already in her head. “I want to propose to Mru. It only came to me when we returned to my flyer and I got him on life support, after almost losing him. I thought it might have just been an impulsive idea that would disappear in the cold light of day, but the more I think about it, the more I want it. Marriage… and cubs.” She drank again. “Sheesh, that’s the first time I said it aloud to someone else. Probably sounds stupid. Do you think it’s a stupid idea? That I’m too young to be thinking about that sort of thing?”

Kami smiled. “No, to both questions. You’re a mature individual, you and Mru seem to complement each other very well, I can tell his Caitian bonding had been triggered… and I was younger than you are now when I met and married my first husband, and had my first cub.” She left it at that.

Prompting Sasha to follow up on it, if she chose. “But…?”

Kami drank again, her maternal delight at the young woman’s announcement tempered by her professional instincts. “Sasha, you’ve just discovered and acknowledged your issues with an addictive personality. You have done magnificently in proving that you can keep your addictions at bay… so far.”

“‘So far’? What do you-”

Kami held up a paw to cut her off, her voice gentle but controlling. “But you’re still in the early stages of your recovery. I know your history, of course, and I know the pressures of your job as First Officer. Taking on the additional pressures of a permanent relationship – and the possibility of a cub as well, on top of that – can potentially be the straw that breaks the shuris’ back. That’s why conventional wisdom suggest recovering addicts leave such life-altering life events for at least a year.”

“A year? I’ve managed battles with Klingons, the Dominion, the Ferasans-”

“Short-term events. Marriage and pregnancy are not. Sweetheart, I’m not saying that you’re not capable, or that you should never do it.” She offered a smile. “I would certainly not deny your father a chance to walk his daughter down the aisle, or be the first to hold any cub you’re blessed with. Just give yourself time. Okay?”

Sasha’s face was taut, as was her voice. “Yeah. Yeah, forget I brought it up, okay? It was a stupid idea.”

“No, Sash, it’s not, not in the least-”

But she rose. “I have to go, check up on Mru, I shouldn’t have left him to do all the work-”

Kami rose as well. “No, wait, Sasha-”

“I’ll be by for dinner tonight.”

She was ready to protest further, but accepted that the younger woman needed time to process her disappointment at Kami’s response… and that Kami needed time to process her guilt at delivering that response.

*

“Security Alert to Deck 4, Airlock 1!”

Kami was returning to her office, forcing back a belch from her snack and from the outcome of her talk with Sasha, when she heard the alert, and quickened her pace to her destination, hearing the sounds of panic and rage ahead of her, while dodging around the civilians and non-essential personnel who also heard the intercom alert and followed protocol. Technically, she should have also responded to the alert by reporting to her station in the Hospital, but she had already guessed the reason for the alert, and knew she would be needed.

She emerged into the open area, a hub that offered access to the Arboretum, the Commissary, the Salon – and the Classroom and Creche where her cubs were, she reminded herself with alarm – but she pushed aside her maternal instincts to assess the situation: a station Security team, phasers drawn, trying to surround but still getting too close to three huge pachydermoid Hroch soldiers in identical body armour, massive hands balled into fists, their muzzles open wide to reveal thick blunt tusks. The newcomers took up a triangular defensive position, roaring defiantly at the Starfleet team.

Kami felt her hackles rise, and focused on the crewman nearest her: Gresh, a young Tellarite male who was apparently the senior member of the team, from the way he had a hoof raised in the direction of the newcomers, his gruff voice loud and commanding as much as he could muster. “No! Weapons are forbidden onboard Salem One without prior authorisation! Stand down and relinquish your arms, and then-”

The largest of the Hroch roared at him, silencing Gresh and making him step back as it announced, “STAND ASIDE, SCOUNDREL, OR WE WILL STEP ON YOU AND THE REST OF THESE BUGS!”

Gresh, shaken but struggling to maintain his composure, tapped his combadge. “Lt Cmdr Salvo, we need reinforcements! Heavy weapons-”

Now Kami tapped her own combadge, stating calmly, “Counselor Hrelle to Salvo: belay that order from Crewman Gresh. I’m handling it.”

She ignored the reaction of disbelief from Gresh, and could almost scent the ambivalence over the comlink from the Security Chief, before the latter replied, her crisp Nova Roman accent short and sharp as a blade. “Be it on your own head, Counselor.”

Kami made a sound – Salvo must be getting soft in her middle age – her gaze now fixed on the lead Hroch as the Caitian motioned for Gresh to step aside, before steadfastly approaching the newcomer. The Hroch focused back on her now, leaning up, raising mammoth arms, able to crush Kami with no effort. “OH, SO YOU WISH TO BE THE FIRST TO FALL, DO YOU-”

Swiftly Kami swung out and slapped the Hroch across the front of their muzzle.

Physically, it was as if she had punched a wall, and she felt the impact from her paw up along her arm.

But it had the effect of the Hroch drawing back as if hit by a missile, looking stunned.

Kami took advantage of it, crossing her arms and glaring with disapproval at the much larger figure. “Nanda Kaldron, I presume?”

The Hroch straightened up formally, slapping her fist against the centre of her chest. “Battle Major Nanda Kaldron, Ninth Squadron, Mondas Sector.”

Kami nodded. “And, more importantly, Urad’s mother?”

At the mention of her son’s name, she stiffened, lowering her fist. “Yes.”

“I’m Counselor Kami Hrelle. And as a mother myself, I have been in the unenviable position of being informed when my cub has been hurt. I remember dropping everything and rushing to him, no matter how far away he was, wanting nothing more than to hold him in my arms and assure him that I was there and would not let anything else hurt him, and woe betide anyone who might stand in my way of doing that.

But that wouldn’t give me leave to intimidate people who are simply doing their job. Especially when they would be well within their rights to take any measures necessary to deal with potential threats, regardless of the reason behind their rage.”

She opened her arms to them. “So, do you relinquish your weapons to the lawfully-equipped Security here, so I can escort you to my office and brief you on the current state of your son? Or do I walk away and let you bellow some more until you are beamed into custody, and delay getting to see Urad?”

They chose wisely.

*

The size of Urad’s room meant that Kami waited outside in the corridor, wishing her Caitian senses could pierce the walls. It was quiet, with none of the bellowing, and once she had briefed Nanda about her son’s condition, she could see the emotional fragility that belied the Hroch’s size and usual brash fierceness, a fragility shared by the other Hroch present, Urad’s sister Ghia and brother Turai.

Kami hadn’t lied when she had confessed to Nanda those times when Kami had been notified of Misha, or Mirow or Sasha being hurt or wounded. She knew it was inevitable with cubs. She knew it would happen when Sreen grew up and made her way independently through life. She knew it was the price to pay for being a parent.

And she knew that it would not stop her stomach, or Nanda’s stomach, from twisting into knots each and every time-

A familiar figure crossing in an adjacent hallway caught her eye, and she turned and strode up to follow, calling after her. “Zir?”

The green-skinned Orion stopped and turned, her scent and expression as strained as it was when they last met. “Counselor, excuse me please-”

Kami drew up, taking the girl’s hand. “Zir, I’m worried about you, something’s wrong.”

“It’s-” Her skin was turning a darker shade of olive. “It’s just seeing Urad so…. So defeated and scared… he was always so strong and confident…”

“Yes,” Kami agreed, her touch allowing her to pick up more sensory input from the girl: her pulse rate, skin conduction, neural spikes. “It must have been disturbing, to say the least. But you seemed disturbed already, before you visited Urad.”

The young Lieutenant started, but then swallowed and pulled out of the Caitian’s touch. “We have a growing crisis, I should be in Ops, but the Commodore said I was getting under his tail and I needed a break. But I don’t want a break! I- I just want this all to be over! I want Urad back, and my- I want everyone to be safe, and- and-” She made a show of waving off any further explanation. “That’s all, Counselor. I’m sorry to bother you.”

Kami breathed in. The young woman was holding back, telling just enough of a truth to be plausible, a tactic Kami had seen many times in people she’d Counselled. On the other paw, it wasn’t enough to make her want to take further action – and she had enough on her proverbial plate already. “You’re never a bother, Zir. And I am available to you day or night if you want to talk.

And if you’re really looking for something useful to do while temporarily banished from Ops, you can go make sure that the guest quarters for Urad’s family have the gravimetric control adjustments in place. They’re going to be here longer than they expected.”

Zir frowned. “They are? I thought that they would be staying for at least a week, after coming all this way to visit him.”

“Yes, but I expect that when they emerge, they will say something different-”

Just then, the door to Urad’s room slid open, and Nanda strode up with her other children, declaring, “We are taking Urad home. Now.”

*

Deck R1, Commodore Hrelle’s Office - 1139 Hrs:

Esek sat behind his desk, his scent agitated even if his voice and demeanour hid his irritation at being interrupted in whatever was happening in the Sector. Kami stood to his right, and the three Hroch visitors stood before him, an intimidating wall of Obdurate Grey, glaring down at him.

Good luck with that, Nanda, Kami thought. My husband is not so readily daunted by such displays of size and strength.

“Battle Major Kaldron,” he finally responded. “As a parent of a cub in service, I fully appreciate your desire to take your son away and protect him. But I must refuse your request.”

Nanda’s muzzle twisted into a scowl, and she raised a huge finger to him. “It was not a request, Commodore. It was a demand!”

He nodded in apparent agreement. “Of course, that changes everything. In that case, I must refuse your demand. Ensign Kaldron is a member of Starfleet, is on medical leave, and is currently in our care.”

“CARE?” His brother, Turai, bellowed, fists raised. “Where was your ‘care’ when you let him almost be burned to death?”

Kami felt Esek react to that; she knew his deep protective nature to his crew made such accusations even more bitter, however unjustified. But to his credit, he kept his composure. “What happened to Urad was terrible, terrible beyond measure. And I would give anything to have not let that happen to him, or to trade places with him… and I know all of you would do the same. But none of us have that power.

You and I, all of us here, took oaths of service and loyalty. We are made aware of the risks involved in that service. Risks of injury. Risks of death. We are made aware of it, and we accept it. We don’t have to like it, but we have to accept it.”

“Easy for you to say!” Nanda advised. “Have you had to receive word about your cub being hurt, almost dying?”

“Yes,” he replied simply, but painfully. “I have. Many times. My daughter has had her lungs ruptured from being exposed to space, her skin burned from fighting Klingons, she’s been scalped from battling Ferasans, and more. I’ve watched helplessly as she piloted ships into suicide runs against Dominion battleships, barely surviving. And I’ve seen her struggle just as mightily afterwards with the psychological effects of her accumulated traumas.

And I’ve had to struggle with the anguish of her pain, and the guilt, however unjustified, that I let it happen, by not taking her away from this life and forcing her to do something safer.

But though she will always be My Little Girl, she is still an adult, who chooses to remain in this life.”

“Urad has chosen!” his sister Gaia declared defiantly. “He has chosen to come back with us!”

“Liar,” Kami responded, before Esek could.

All three Hroch, and Esek, looked to her, Nanda bellowing, “You dare accuse my daughter of lying?”

Kami remained unintimated. “Nothing to dare. You may have tried to convince him to return with you, but Urad hasn't chosen.”

Nanda stepped closer to her. “Scoundrel! I’ll contact your superiors at Starfleet Command! Protest to the Federation Council!”

“Or we’ll just go and take him now and be done with you!” Turai threatened.

Esek rose to his feet, his paws pressing down on his desk as he leaned forward, teeth bared. “No, Bubulah, you won’t.”

Kami offered her husband a calming purr, unheard but felt by him, as she approached Nanda, providing a tranquil complement to her intensity. “You can protest, of course, but the diplomatic connections your government has with the Federation is limited. Urad is a commissioned officer in Starfleet, and because he is under medical care at the moment, we cannot accept any resignation he might provide.

But, even if you disregard all that and take him by force back to your homeworld, you will not be doing him any favours. Taking that action will only solidify and legitimise his fear, deepen his guilt. In fact, he’ll feel worse for it, and his body will respond accordingly. And that one incident in his past becomes a lifetime of disability in his future.”

She drew even closer now, confidently looking up at Nanda. “You and your family are welcome to stay here for as long as you like, visit him as many times as he agrees to, while I continue to work with him, and advise you accordingly. If, at a later date, I consider him recovered enough to make his own decisions about his future, and he chooses to resign and return with you, then I won’t contest it. Agreed?”

The Hroch Battle Major stared down at her, before looking to Esek, who shrugged. “Don’t look at me, I’m not in charge around here.”

*

Deck 5, Broadway - 1215 Hrs:

Kami had escorted the Kaldron Family to their guest quarters – and was pleased to see that Zir had indeed ensured the gravimetric alterations were in place for their comfort and health – and had hoped to pop back to the Starjammers for a quick lunch before her hastily-arranged appointment with Cadet Boladede, when the new business establishment caught her eye.

As did the new establishment’s apparent owner and operator, a dark-skinned, goateed human male with luxuriant, old-fashioned black and red clothes that matched the Gothic decor of the doorway behind him. He sat behind a small round wooden table, drink at his side, and shuffled a deck of cards, making them move and undulate and dance with expert, fluid ease. He looked up, smiling charmingly as he rose to his feet, bowing slightly. “Bonjour, Madame.”

She nodded her head. “Bonjour Monsieur. Bienvenue à la Gare de Salem One.”

His eyes lit up, looking impressed. “You speak French?”

She nodded. “I did my post-graduate work at the Starfleet Academy Annex at Marseille. Come to think of it, I met my future first husband Rmorra there, too.”

“Ahh, Marseille; my mother’s family was from there, though I was born in New Orleans.” He bowed again. “Simon Latrelle, at your service. Owner and proprietor of Tarot, my humble establishment,” He indicated the doorway behind him. “Which I sincerely hope will be graced by your presence when we officially open our doors tonight.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll see me around, Mr Latrelle. I’m Kami Hrelle, the-”

She halted as he raised a hand. “A moment, please, Madame. Let’s see if my gift still works, even out here on the frontier.” He indicated the free chair opposite him.

Kami accepted it, letting him sit back down and gather up his cards. Closer now, she saw that it wasn’t a traditional playing deck. It took a moment for her to identify it, making the connection with the name of the club. “Tarot Cards?”

“Oui. You’re familiar with the art?”

“I’m familiar that humans used to believe they were tools of divination, though more modern applications assisted in various forms of therapy.” She smirked. “I hope you’re not going to try and convince me of the former? This is the 24th Century, after all.”

Latrelle smiled, shuffling the cards. “So it is, Madame, so it is. So let’s see what I can convince you of… we’ll start with a basic spread, to identify your role here on Salem One.”

He began turned over cards, setting one down, and then two more on either side, pausing and identifying each. “This is your spirit card: the Empress, symbolising motherhood, fertility, authority. These other two, the Six of Cups and the Seven of Wands, support you, symbolising healing, perseverance, compassion and patience.” He set a fourth card down under the first. “The High Priestess, symbolising intuition, the subconscious, the inner voice...” He looked up at her in realisation, snapping his fingers. “You’re a Counselor! Probably the Chief Counselor here, based on the authority provided by the Empress.”

Kami leaned back in the chair, making a gasping sound and offering a slow clap. “Amazing, Mr Latrelle! Simply amazing! How could you possibly have divined that about me… I mean, apart from reading the briefing made available to everyone who comes here?”

He swept up the cards and shuffled them again, chuckling. “I know, Counselor, that was probably a little too obvious of me. And no, I would never insult your intelligence by trying to convince you of supernatural powers. But I will quote my father, a man who performed illusions without the aid of holograms or transporters or other technology, strictly through prestidigitation and legerdemain: ‘We’re entertainers, not recruiters’.

And though I may have named my club Tarot, I will be keeping it a place where people can come have drinks, listen to live as well as holographic bands, dance and have a good time, because that’s what makes life worth living.” He offered a wicked wink as he picked up his cards. “But on occasion I may offer a select few a glimpse into… their futures!”

He chuckled and threw down the top card from the deck, one of a tower being struck by lightning and crumbling into pieces.

His expression sobered.

Kami remained unmoved, checking the nearby chronometer, realising she would not get the chance to eat before her next urgent appointment. “Unless that means a protesting stomach is in my immediate future, I’ll remain impressed only by your charm and your sleight of hand…”

*

Deck R1, Commander Haluk’s Office - 1229 Hrs:

The scent of outrage and tension from the young cadet standing ramrod straight opposite her was so thick she thought she might choke on it. He was young, hairless, with a fit frame as taut as a wire, an academic and performance record as spotless as his uniform, and his expression giving away nothing… or so he thought.

She sat in a chair beside Haluk’s desk, keeping the PADD facing her, pretending to peruse its contents, though she had little taste to do so again, as Haluk led the meeting. “Cadet Ange Boladede, can you surmise the reason for this meeting?”

The young Nigerian man breathed through his blunt, broad nose, eyes flaring, his accent sharp. “This is no doubt because of Counselor Hrelle’s underling and his overreaction to a confidential matter… Sir.”

“My ‘underling’,” Kami replied crisply, “Is a commissioned officer who outranks cadets – even the most gifted ones; I would be very careful about that attitude if I were you right now, Mister.”

“Counselor Hrelle is quite correct,” Haluk agreed, the older Vulcan’s greying beard and uniform equalling Boladede’s for crispness. “And given what was found on your personal device, the reaction was justified.”

Boladede stepped forward, hands balled into fists. “That is an invasion of my right to privacy! You have no right to do that! I will-”

Kami’s hackles rose, but she kept her composure as Haluk glared at him and ordered, “You will unclench those fists and resume a position at attention, Cadet, immediately. That’s what you’ll do. Anything else will end your career in Starfleet before it’s begun.”

He trembled, almost looked ready to defy them… until he complied.

“A wise choice,” Haluk noted. “More than one Academy instructor has complimented you on your strength and discipline; it would be in your best interests to call upon those qualities now, and from this moment onward.”

Kami indicated the PADD in her paw again. “You’ve built up quite an extensive library of images and videos of Lt Cmdr Hrelle and yourself, plenty of masturbation fuel there. It might even be a source of amusement, if not for the circumstances behind it, and the fact that it involves a member of my family.”

His walnut-coloured skin darkened further. “They are not real!”

“Don’t insult my intelligence; I know that as well, though you secretly collected genuine records of her, without her knowledge or permission, which certainly helped with employing a high degree of authenticity for the fakes. So what is your point?”

“The genuine records were collected from public records! And the… fictional ones… are for myself alone! No one will ever see them!”

“Three other people have,” Haluk pointed out. “Counselor Hrelle, Counselor Boone and myself, so your argument is flawed.”

“And even if we hadn’t,” Kami added, letting her anger show through her words. “You generated images of Lt Cmdr Hrelle without her knowledge or permission, which is as much a violation as if you had secretly recorded her, and demonstrating a profound contempt for the integrity of your victim… and make no mistake, the object of your obsession here is your victim, not yourself. That’s why we have laws against such actions.

Then there are your writings towards Lt Mori, another commissioned officer who outranks you, writings confirming your perception of him as a ‘rival’ for Lt Cmdr Hrelle’s affections. ” She dropped the PADD deliberately loudly onto Haluk’s desk, making the cadet start. “And let me be as explicit as your pornography: there is no rivalry, because Lt Cmdr Hrelle will never look upon you as anything more than, at best, a colleague.

Assuming you’re still in Starfleet, that is.”

Boladede’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Cadet,” Haluk resumed, “Under normal circumstances, your actions would have triggered your immediate expulsion from Starfleet Academy. However, Counselor Hrelle has appealed on your behalf.”

The young human reacted, looking at her. “You have?”

“Surprised? You should be; I consider Lt Cmdr Hrelle as much a cub of mine as the ones I birthed. 

As it happens, however, I am willing to put aside my personal feelings and take into account your exemplary academic and performance record to this point… in particular your supportive actions when you joined Lt Cmdr Hrelle’s Away Team to rescue Commodore Hrelle and myself.”

“To that end,” Haluk concluded. “On Counselor Hrelle’s recommendation, I am placing a formal reprimand on your record, and cancelling your academic credits for the last six months.”

Boladede bristled, but otherwise kept control.

“This amount reflects the severity of your actions,” Kami added, “But still affords you the opportunity to recoup the loss and graduate with your class next year; it’s at your own discretion whether or not you wish to reveal this disciplinary measure to your friends. 

I will also be personally conducting additional individual Counseling sessions with you, to see how well you are applying what you have learned today… assuming you have learned anything. All of your collected files on Lt Cmdr Hrelle will be deleted by Commander Haluk, and while you are still free to keep a personal device, Commander Haluk and myself will be permitted access to it at all times. If we discover any attempts on your part to keep any records of Lt Cmdr Hrelle again, or indeed to hide anything at all from us, all deals are off.”

The cadet’s jaw visibly tightened. “Am I to be allowed no privacy at all?”

“Only when we are convinced that it will not prove harmful, to yourself or others,” Haluk clarified, folding his hands behind him. “Of course, you can always refuse to accept this measure, in which I will accept your resignation and arrange for your return to Earth.”

Boladede looked between the two of them, before replying, “No, Commander. I will accept this very generous offer.” To Kami he added, more humbly, “I apologise for the actions I have taken against Lt Cmdr Hrelle, Counselor, and I promise you that I will justify the faith you have put in me with your mercy.”

“Dismissed, Cadet,” Haluk ordered. As Boladede departed, the Vulcan turned to her, indicating a seat by his desk. “Would you care for tea? Your usual blend?”

“Yes, to both, please.”

As she sat down and adjusted her tail, and he moved to his personal replicator, he admitted, “I must confess to a continued level of surprise at your level of mercy towards him, given your personal connection.”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose, ignoring the rumblings in her belly. “I’ve probably surprised myself; seeing those faked images of Sasha turned my stomach, and my stomach is usually made of sterner stuff.” She accepted the tea and saucer, relishing the scent of the Vulcan mint… and appreciating the shortbread biscuits he also provided without asking. “Maybe I’ve been too lenient? Pushed too hard in my desire to be objective?”

Haluk collected his own tea and sat down. “You did not downplay his actions, and offered a logical rationale towards providing him with the opportunity at redemption. Some of the most redoubtable officers in Starfleet have examples of, shall we say, chequered Academy records in their past.”

Kami nodded, smiling. “And then there’s the fact that since assuming the role of Superintendent here, you have yet to expel any of the cadets. Statistically, how does that compare to other Academy Annexes?”

He raised an eyebrow as he lifted up his cup. “It would be entirely self-serving and self-aggrandising of me to note that of the 118 Annexes within Federation borders, the one under my command is in the top 2% for cadet retention.” He sipped his tea. “So I will not.”

Kami laughed, seeing what her great-grandfather Rmolo S’Li saw in Haluk all those years ago, when both served onboard the USS Harken. “Of course not.”

Then he looked at her. “Will you be mentioning the details of this to either the Commodore or the Lieutenant Commander?”

She lifted up a biscuit and dipped it quickly. “Absolutely not. It isn’t necessary… and it’s probably safer for all concerned. Especially Mr Boladede.”

*

Deck R1, Operations - 1255 Hrs:

Kami had barely returned to her office for her next appointment before she had been recalled upstairs, this time back to Ops, at Esek’s behest. She entered and caught the scent of his stress in the air from Zir, Sternhagen, Salvo and others, all focused on Esek in his office, his back to them through the transparent walls, facing office screen, his tail twitching with anxiety as he stood beside Turikana Benjo, the Tribeleader of the Paserak who had, against the practices of the rest of their people, made their residency on Salem One.

Kami understood exactly why she was called, entered immediately as he continued to speak to the Paserak Tribeleader on the other end of the transmission. “Tribeleader-”

The reptoid onscreen hissed to cut him off, baring needle-like teeth. “Twenty-five dead among Dirigente’s tribe! Murdered! At your hands! You were seen!”

Hrelle raised his paws up to him. “Tribeleader Losco, I can assure you I have not left this station, and I have certainly not ordered any attacks on any of the Paserak in this sector! I have always respected the neutrality of your people!”

“The evidence is there, Starfleet! There are recordings, forensic evidence! You told him our people would have to swear allegiance to you and the Federation if we were to remain in this sector!”

“Tribeleader-”

Kami reached out and rested a paw on Esek’s raised arm, her senses still fixed on what she saw and heard onscreen as she spoke to her husband in Old Caitian, not extricable by most Universal Translators. “He genuinely wants to believe you. He’s desperate for something, anything to support that.”

He glanced at her, instantly reassessing and softening his tone as he lowered his arms again. “Tribeleader Losco, you stated that after Dirigente’s tribe was attacked on Ucarro Major, the attackers were apparently driven off by another force new to the sector. Who are they?”

The reptoid frowned. “A coalition of beings who believe in freedom, calling themselves the Bel-Zon.”

Kami felt Esek bristle, and she purred subliminally to keep him steady. And it appeared to work. “Tribeleader, the Bel-Zon are a criminal organisation. I know you’re old enough to remember the raid they carried out on my previous ship, the Furyk, and on this station, over a decade ago.”

Losco nodded, but clarified, “I am told they are not the same people. The name has been used by many groups over the centuries in this sector, dating back to Triacus.”

“They say they are not the same people. But we are receiving reports of them appearing at Telamon, Scesity, Axyllus… from our own colonies, from the Ferengi, and your own people. Some saying that we’re leaving the sector, some claiming that I’ve become some sort of bloodthirsty dictator over Salem Sector.”

The Paserak hissed. “But you yourself were seen! Not two days ago, you stood before Dirigente on Ucarro Major, and boasted of taking over!”

“Losco,” Turikana finally spoke up since Kami’s arrival. “Commodore Hrelle has been present here all along. Every day, I have met and worked with him, here-”

Kami saw the change in reaction on the other Paserak to Turikana’s input. “You! You traitors who lie with Statist Uniforms have nothing to say here!”

The younger Paserak hissed, eyes clouding over as if a struggle could break out over the light years between them.

Now she stepped forward, employing a Paserak curse she had learned, one untranslatable and provoking shocked reactions from the reptoids and bemusement from her husband.

She stepped forward, staring up at the screen, as Losco stared back in astonishment. “That was… unforgivable! You are-”

“I AM,” she interrupted loudly, harshly, crossing her arms and baring her teeth. “The Elder Female of this Tribe of ours; you show me the respect your race is known for throughout the Quadrant! Is that clear?”

That took the proverbial power out of his nacelles. “Yes, yes, of course, I did not mean-”

She pointed a finger up, claw bared. “I’m still speaking!” As he silenced, she continued, pointing now at Turikana. “And this Tribeleader is no traitor! He has done what you would have done, if your own vessel was damaged beyond repair and had nowhere else to go! He and his tribe have sworn no fealty to Starfleet or anyone or anything else! This is merely a temporary arrangement until your people finally call a halt to your idiotic Schism!”

The others reacted to her words, especially the last one. She knew it would be a risk: Esek had made her aware of the secret internal conflict among the Paserak. Esek had promised to broach the subject with them – diplomatically, and therefore slowly – but more recent events had overtaken them.

Losco hissed now at Turikana. “You- You told them! Outsiders-”

“He told us nothing,” Kami corrected him. “We’ve known all along, everything: the location of your Birthworld; your stigma against living on it, or any other world, permanently; the need for your people to still return to conceive there; and of the recent stellar fluctuations that have altered your Birthworld’s ecosphere and is threatening your people’s future.”

“You- B-But how-”

“We know, because we’re Starfleet.

We’ve respected your privacy, because we’re Starfleet.

And, if you ask for help, we will offer all the scientific and technical knowledge and resources at our disposal to help you solve your crisis, without price or condition. Because we’re Starfleet.

But that’s for another time. Now, this business with the Bel-Zon. They’re obviously staging this to turn you and the rest of the sector against us.”

“You can’t be sure-”

She moved around like a prosecutor in an ancient court of law, indicating Esek. “What would be the point of my husband denying his actions now, in the face of all the alleged evidence against him? Of making such an open display of aggression?”

“The War- they said the War changed how the Federation operated- you conquer now-”

She waved that off. “We don’t have to conquer, Losco! That’s the point! We offer the open paw instead of the closed fist! That’s why the Federation has thrived over the centuries, when Empires and Dominions and others have been stopped, time and again! All I ask, as an Elder Female, is that you give us a chance to prove our innocence in all this.” She held her open paw out to the screen. “Well, Tribeleader? I can see the answer in your eyes already. Lay the egg so it can hatch.”

Losco frowned… but then grunted grudgingly. “Let us see the evidence supporting your account, Commodore.”

Kami nodded. “Good. Now, if you boys can be trusted to act maturely and not start an interstellar war, some of us have actual work to do.” She walked around Esek, patenting him on the rear as she departed the office.

Before the door slid shut, she heard Losco comment, “You are fortunate to have such a mate, Commodore. Perhaps she should be in command?”

“Who says she isn’t?”

*

Deck 1, Guest Quarters 47 – 1342 Hrs:

She smelled the food from outside the door, heard the noise inside, and chimed her appearance. Seconds later, the door slid open, and Mru Mori stood there, reacting pleasantly. “Counselor! I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you!”

She smiled back. “This was a surprise visit, and I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

“No, no, not at all… but Sasha’s not here, she’s joined Captain Weynik down at the Hangar Bay.”

“Well, maybe I’m here to see you? A handsome young male should be used to the attention.” She reached up and scratched under his chin, smirking at how his tail wagged in response, before he stepped back and waved her inside. Her stomach growled, reminding her of her missing lunch as she smelled the remains of the food on the table. “Do you mind if I indulge? I’ve been on the go for hours now.”

Mru indicated the table. “Help yourself; I was about to recycle what was left… or you can call up something fresh.”

“This will do, thank you.” Kami sat down, picking what she wanted off the plates. “I’m surprised Sasha left behind anything; she has her father’s thoroughness.”

Mru chuckled. “I once put in a secret algorithm into a replicator order to include a pattern on the plate that was edible. When she licked the shuris sauce off the plate, the pattern came with it.”

Kami burst out laughing, stopping to cough and drink some water to clear her throat. “How did you manage to keep your tail after she realised it was a prank?”

“A handsome male like me has charm enough to soften the hardest heart.” He sat down at the desk, idly tapping at the panel to the computer screen facing him, shutting down a communications program. “Also, I agreed to do a Furburn-” He stopped, his fur bristling with embarrassment. “That, ah, that’s a-”

She laughed again. “Yes, I can guess what that is; back in my day we called that a Reverse Growler. Oh, to be young and far more flexible…” Her thoughts returned to her aborted meal earlier with the human woman, and her intentions with her lover. “How was she when she returned from our meal?”

He breathed out. “Stressed; she barely touched her food, as you saw. She’s been like that since the battle, and having to rescue me. I hated that she had to do that, and that she’s been taking on so much responsibility off the rest of us, as well as keeping her addictions at bay. She’s strong, but…”

“But doesn’t always know when to ask for help. She gets that from her Papa, but at least he’s learned.” Kami resumed eating, even as she focused her other senses on him.“And how are you doing?”

“Me? Sash and I are doing fine, eager to get back out there-”

She turned in her seat to face him directly. “No, I asked about you. You’re more than just part of a couple, and you’ve been through a lot in your young life.”

Mru seemed to consider her words, but then shrugged, perhaps a little too deliberately, without facing her back. “Others have been through a lot worse. Look at Ensign Kaldron, for instance, or the Caitians who suffered under the Occupation.”

“It’s not a competition, Cub,” she counselled him, keeping her tone light but firm, catching the change in his scent now. “I read Counselor Vestri’s initial evaluation of you after you were blown out into space. She referred to you as ‘shaken, but not stirred’, which sounds like some obscure cultural reference but I couldn't be bothered to look into it.”

He nodded at that. “Well, the important thing is she cleared me for active duty after my rest.”

“No, the important thing is if you clear yourself.” She indicated the computer. “Unfinished business?”

Mru sighed and nodded. “A long overdue message to my mothers. I’ve started this twenty times now, but I’m debating telling them about what happened in the Katana. What’s the point in worrying them needlessly?”

“They’ll be worrying anyway,” she pointed out, wiping flakes of pastry from her fingers. “This way you get to control the narrative, show that you’re candid with them so they’ll trust what you write… and later if it’s necessary you can more successfully hide something you believe is too traumatic for them to handle.”

He glanced at her again in mild surprise. “Would you do something like that to your parents?”

“I have. More than once. Of course, it only worked on my fathers; my mother, being the head of the Caitian Secret Service, was less easy to deceive.” She rose, drew her chair closer to him, close enough to touch him, and sat down again. “So… if you did write to them, what would you tell them about how you feel now?”

The Caitian male leaned back, frowning in thought. She scented his hesitation to respond truthfully, and she added, “There’s no wrong answer, and nothing goes beyond us – not to Sasha, or your own Counselor or Captain.”

“I think I’m alright about it,” he admitted, hesitantly, extending his claws nervously and tapping on the tabletop. “I’ve accepted the incident, how it affected my body and mind, accepted that it wasn’t my fault, or anyone else’s fault except those who attacked us…” His voice trailed off.

Leaving Kami to prompt, “But?”

Now he looked at her, eyes welling. “Every time I think about going back onboard the Katana, back onboard the Bridge, looking up at the ceiling and knowing how thin the hull is, knowing how quickly, how easily it can rip open- blow me out again- kill me, kill Sasha-” His head was shaking, and the tears of anguish and anxiety flowed freely, building up to a torrent. “What in the Seven Hells are we doing out here, flying around in a void protected only by paper-thin hulls? WHAT IN THE SEVEN HELLS? WHAT-”

The rest of his words were lost in sobs, as Kami drew up to take him into her arms, driven by her own maternal instincts as her Counseling training.

*

Deck 5, Recovery Room 1 - 1415 Hrs:

Kami expected the announcement from Urad, who stood before her. “Comrade Counselor, I am formally tendering my resignation from Starfleet. It has been an honour to serve Commodore Hrelle, Captain Sternhagen, Lieutenant Commander Salvo, and everyone else I have had the honour to know. And I must especially thank you for all your wise counsel and support.”

Beside him, his mother Nanda held out a PADD. “Here is his completed resignation, Comrade Counselor… and a copy of an apology from myself and my family for our initial disruptive actions on boarding your station. We have already submitted both to Commodore Hrelle, but we believe you deserved to receive it personally.”

She double checked to ensure the gravimetric enhancers were switched off before approaching further, accepting the PADD but barely looking at it. “Well, I truly appreciate that show of consideration, from both of you.”

She tossed the PADD to the bed. “Resignation Refused.”

The young Hroch male started, glancing at his mother before replying, “B-But, Comrade Counselor, you cannot refuse-”

“I can, and I am.”

“We have already submitted it to your Commanding Officer!” Nanda bellowed angrily. “What will you say when he orders you to release my son, rather than risk censure from his superiors when we protest your actions?”

Kami remained mildly amused by the threat. “Nothing… because it won’t get that far. My husband trusts my judgement implicitly, and is not easily intimidated by his superiors… actually, he’s not intimidated at all. And you’ll find my medical authority holds a lot of weight.”

Nanda slammed her fist into her open palm in frustration, making Urad start. “You are determined to keep my son here just to prove you know best? Can you be more stubborn?”

Kami nodded. “I don’t know, I find the current levels more than sufficient to get what I want.” Now she focused on Urad, moving closer to him, her voice softening. “Ensign, I have a duty of care to my patients, to ensure they have healed enough before releasing them, either back to active duty, or through discharge from active service. And that healing applies not just to their psychological and emotional health, but their physical.”

She reached out and took his massive hand, unable to enclose it even with both her paws. “You continue to have problems with your dexterity… at least, that is what you have told us, contrary to the many neurological scans taken.

So, I need you to undergo some specialist therapy in the Hospital Holosuite, enough to restore your manual skills to usable levels. Once your proficiency has improved to a satisfactory degree, then, if you still want to resign, I won’t stand in your way…”

*

Deck 4, Classroom – 1445 Hrs:

The tiny warriors on the gameboard grappled, blows clanging against their armour plates, moving from space to space, while numbers hung in the air, increasing or decreasing with the progress of the fight.

Then the fight quickly, dramatically came to a conclusion, as one warrior picked up his opponent and brought him down onto his knee, breaking his opponent’s back-

Kami switched off the rest, noting the sounds of disappointment from the class that was viewing it… including, to her mild dismay, Misha. “You’re all too young to see the rest of that, so if you’re too young to see it, you’re certainly too young to play it.”

She looked to their teacher Talbok, a Klingon who looked like a human, and who had seen a demonstration of the game she had learned about that morning. He continued the lecture. “Counselor Hrelle is correct. This so-called game is not honourable; the real Triskelion was a place where the Masters would abduct people and enslave them, forcing them to fight to the death against their will, while their Masters bet on the victor. Not even Klingons would consider this worthy of play.”

“This game glorifies abduction,” Kami finished soberly. “Abduction, slavery, bloody violence and death. My husband, Commodore Hrelle, was the victim of evil people like the Masters of Triskelion.” She fixed her gaze on her son, who looked shocked… and ashamed. “He suffered terribly. Playing a game like this makes light of that. It insults him. Insults all of the victims of slavery and enforced violence.

I can forbid my son from playing this game, though I hope I wouldn’t have to, that he is smart enough now to see how wrong it is. I cannot forbid the rest of you. But I will be sending messages to all of your parents, expressing my opinions regarding it.”

“And Counselor Hrelle’s words will have my support as well,” Talbok added, crossing his arms. “There are a thousand other games you can play… just don’t play when you should be listening to me- I’m referring to you back there, Mr Naxx!”

*

Kami noted Misha’s silence after they left his class together and collected Sreen from the adjacent Creche. When he remained subdued despite his little sister’s exuberance at seeing him, Kami asked, “You know I’m not mad at you for playing that game, Son of Mine, yes? You just didn’t realise why it was wrong.”

He grunted.

“Meesh!” Sreen beckoned. “You smile! Like me!” The toddler demonstrated, making Kami laugh.

Misha looked away. “Don’t wanna, Baby Sreen.”

Now Kami glanced down Broadway towards the Starjammers. “That’s too bad. I was going to stop for ice cream.”

“Ice Cream!” Sreen sang, arms out wide for passing pedestrians. “Ice Cream for the Poop Queen!” 

But Misha remained stubborn. “Don’t want ice cream.”

Kami nodded at that. “Fine, you can sit and start your extra homework at the table while Sreen and I have some chocolate wobble, pistachio and peach.”

Misha frowned. “You can’t do that! That’s cruel!”

Kami almost burst out laughing, when she saw Sasha stride up to them, her face and stance taut with anger. “What the Hell do you think you’re doing, extending Mru’s medical leave? He was cleared to return to active duty by our Counselor-”

“What’s wrong with Mru?” Misha asked, bemused.

“Sasha, calm down-”

The young woman pointed a finger at her, her face reddening now. “You have no right to do that!”

Sreen began mewling at the sudden anger within her family, and Kami purred to her while trying to calm down the young woman. “Sasha-”

“Why you yell at Mama?” Misha demanded.

Sreen was crying now.

“Just because you have a problem with me, you have to take it out on him-”

Kami roared in Sasha’s face.

Sasha staggered back in shock, and others around them stopped and reacted. Kami ignored the others, pointing back at her now. “Not another word, Lieutenant Commander, or I’ll have you on Medical Suspension with immediate effect!” Still trying to calm down Sreen, she saw Maggiore, the elderly Paserak female who operated as the station’s Creche Supervisor. “Respected Mother, would you please take the cubs into the Cafe for a moment?”

The kindly reptoid drew up, arms outstretched. “Gladly, Counselor.” She accepted the toddler, beckoning to Misha. “Please, Warrior Prince, I need your assistance to select a treat from the menu…”

Kami nodded gratefully, before facing Sasha again. “Now, follow me!”

To her credit, Sasha complied, as Kami found a quiet alcove near the lifts, before turning on the human, her voice low and angry. “Firstly, don’t ever speak to me like that again, in private or in public, and especially not in front of your brother and sister! Is that clear?”

Sasha looked ready to retort, before pursing her lips and making a guttural assent, while still glaring defiantly at Kami.

Kami remained angry. “Secondly, don’t ever suggest that I would use my medical responsibility to enact some perceived petty revenge on you. Is that clear, too?”

Sasha folded her arms, somehow managing to scowl even more deeply, grunting.

A memory, of her firstborn Mirow making an identical expression at age six when she refused to let him climb onto the roof of the Clanhouse to play Skycats, surfaced. And it was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud and ruining the mood she wanted to present now, but it calmed her down a little. “Thirdly, you are a senior officer in Starfleet, second in command of a starship… and your father’s daughter! Show some discipline when you’re in public. Is that-”

“Yes,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “All clear. Now, Counselor, may I respectfully ask for the reason you rescinded Counselor Vestri’s diagnosis regarding Lt Mori?”

Kami regarded her archly. “Well, since you’ve asked so nicely: I spoke with Mru in your guest quarters, and re-evaluated the initial findings. It happens, sometimes, as part of my role as Chief Counselor, and it’s no reflection on Bes’ abilities… but what Mru has gone through is more than just the hull breach, it’s that, on top of what you both experienced on Cait. In the camps.”

Mention of the Occupation camps made Sasha pale, the anger draining from her like she had a hull breach of her own. “It’s my fault.”

“What?”

“It’s my fault. I pushed him. Pushed him back into active duty before he was ready. He didn’t want to let me down…. I was so wrapped up in my own problems, in doing my job, I couldn’t see that the man I love needed help-”

Kami could see the anguish rising within the younger woman, and reached out to clasp her by her upper arms. “No, Sasha. That was never your sole responsibility. It was down to others… including Mru himself, recognising the need for further help for himself.

We’re not fictional characters in some ongoing storyline, experiencing trauma and being patched up and ready to go by the next story. Healing is not linear or scheduled, as you know.” She smirked. “You are so like your Papa; he’d blame himself for starting a supernova.”

Sasha grunted. “Bet I could start one, if it pissed me off.”

Kami smiled now. “You’re not still mad at me for what I said this morning, are you?”

“Hmm? Nahh, it was a stupid idea.”

“No it wasn’t, it was lovely… but maybe something to consider at a later date. Now, let’s get your brother and sister before they charm the stuffing out of Maggiore.”

They returned to the Cafe, finding the cubs, the Paserak, and other patrons, all entranced by a familiar figure in black and red, performing tricks with cards, rubber balls, gold rings and other small objects, producing applause with each feat.

“Who the Hell’s that?” Sasha asked, whispering.

“The owner of the new nightclub, Tarot.”

She watched, tensing slightly as he looked in her direction. “Counselor, may I ask your son to assist me with my final trick?”

Kami felt all eyes on her, but she nodded in acquiescence.

Latrelle dropped to one knee and beckoned for an enchanted Misha to approach. As he did, Latrelle produced a large gold egg, holding it between his fingertips with the pointy end up. “Mr Hrelle, this is something very magical: it’s an Anything Egg. That means that with the right words, it can hatch just about anything you can think of.” He looked around at the crowds. “As long as it doesn’t breach Station Safety Regulations, of course.”

He looked back at Misha. “So, what would you like to see hatch from this?”

The cub’s eyes lit up. “A Caitian sand newt!”

“What colour?”

“Purple!”

Latrelle chuckled. “Do you want it to have wings?”

“YEAH!”

With his free hand, Latrelle waved over it three times, speaking in some untranslatable language  –  or just plain babble  –  before asking Misha, “Tap the top of the egg three times!”

Misha extended his forefinger and complied. The egg popped open, and what looked to Kami like a Caitian sand newt, but unnaturally winged and purple-skinned, broke free from the shell, screeched, flapped its wings and flew upwards, with all eyes following its ascent into the rafters of Broadway, to the rapturous applause of the crowd.

Latrelle crushed the remains of the egg into a glittery powder and blew it out of his hand, shaking Misha’s paw in thanks before returning to his feet, proclaiming loudly, “The Grand Opening of Tarots is at 2000 Hours tonight! We’ll have live music from the very talented duo of Randall and Hopkirk, as well as real and replicated drinks, and dancing ’til dawn, whenever that is out here! You’re all welcome!” He pointed at Misha. “You and your little sister will be welcome when you’re eighteen!”

As the crowd dispersed, Kami and Sasha approached, Misha rushing up to Kami. “Mama! Did you see? I made a purple Caitian sand newt! With wings!”

“So I saw.” She eyed the man. “I thought you said you didn’t employ technology with your tricks, Mr Latrelle.”

He chuckled. “No, I said my father didn’t. Me, I’ll take all the help I can get.” He looked at Sasha now, bowing slightly. “Lieutenant Commander Sasha Hrelle, First Officer of the USS Katana. You would surely grace Tarot with your divine presence tonight. And for you, the drinks will be on the house!”

“I don’t drink, Mr Latrelle,” she informed him.

He smiled. “Well, then, do you like snacks? Chicken wings, nachos, barbecued shrimp, crab cakes, hush puppies, onion rings-”

“Sasha likes snacks!” Misha offered helpfully. “She’ll eat anything you put in front of her!”

Kami rested a paw on her son’s shoulder, trying not to laugh at Sasha’s reaction to her brother’s declaration.

*

Deck R1, Operations - 1625 Hrs:

Kami could scent the mood around her as she entered, but chose to ask, “Well? How’d it go?”

Esek turned away from a new face in the group, an older pale-skinned human male with Commander’s pips who stood with a confident if cautious mien, to face his wife. “The Paserak have called a temporary halt to their attacks on our ships, as they examine the evidence we sent them. The Ferengi colony is demanding reparations; Commissioner Nam-Seon is negotiating with them now to offer them shared use of the subspace communications network we’ve set up.”

She frowned. “Wouldn’t we have offered that to them anyway, to keep them from trying to set up their own and causing interference?”

He smiled. “Yes, but they don’t know that. I’ve also assured our colonies and stations that we’re not holding a Going Out of Business Sale anytime soon, while also confirming with Admiral Raner that I’ve not become the next Garth of Izar.”

She reached up and patted his muzzle. “That’s my Big Commode. Now, how can I save your furry asses this time?”

He growled and pulled back, indicating the new human. “This is Commander James Somerset, our new Intelligence Officer from Starfleet Security.”

He approached, his accent recognisable – and attractive – as Terran British as he held out his hand and spoke. “Counselor.”

She offered her paw in return. “Commander.”

“He’s only just arrived,” Esek continued. “But given today’s events, I want him to get to work right away, so he’ll need to get his mandatory Medical and Counseling Checks out of the way first.”

She nodded, smiling at Somerset. “He means he wants me to give you the once-over to make sure you’re not a secret Bel-Zon spy.”

He smiled back charmingly. “I gathered that.” He indicated his hand, which she still held. “Have we started already?”

“Of course; I’m reading your pulse, skin conductivity, galvanic neural responses, pheromonal changes-”

“Do you two want to get a room?” Esek quipped.

“Yes: my office, with some tea and crumpets.” She released his hand and indicated the exit. “Shall we, Commander?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Please, call me James.”

She still smiled; yes, definitely a genuine charmer.

But where did you get that strange Caitian scent on you?

*

Deck 5, Chief Counselor’s Office - 1717 Hrs:

It hadn’t taken long for her to sate her curiosity, about Somerset and about his Caitian connection, though she wondered why nothing had been said in Ops.

The Starfleet officer offered what was obviously a typically-understated attitude. “The Caitians who assisted me in getting here were sent by First Minister Shall  –  but strictly off the record, of course. However, Captain Nrari did indicate that more unofficial help might be following. The type that tends not to request authorisation from Starfleet or the Federation Council.”

Kami grunted. “Typical: most mothers send soup around when you’re in trouble. Mine sends assassins.”

“Oh, I’m sure many of them won’t be assassins, just mercenaries,” Somerset quipped.

She still thought of him as a charmer after speaking and clearing him for Active Duty, before passing him onto the CMO Dr Masterson, and returning to finish off her tea, knowing she could be spoiling her evening meal-

Her door chimed, and she checked her controls identifying the visitor. She set aside the remains of her snack and unlocked the door, sitting back in her chair as Battle Major Kaldron entered, making a show of filling up the doorframe, her manner cool and resolute. “Comrade Counselor, a word with you, please.”

“Of course, Battle Major. There’s a chair in the corner that Urad uses for our sessions, if you would like-”

“No.”

Kami rested her folded paws on her belly. “Then, what can I do for you?”

The Hroch female raised her muzzle. “You can answer Why.”

“You’ll have to be way more specific about what you want.”

Nanda stepped forward, scowling. “Do I seem like the type who appreciates facetiousness?”

“No,” Kami confirmed soberly. “You seem like the type who will bellow and threaten easily, but inflict actual violence rarely. You seem like the type who loves her youngest child with an ache that can crack planets, and cannot bear to imagine the suffering he experienced. You seem like the type who will feel a supernova of emotions, including guilt over not being there to take his pain instead, regardless of your people’s love for combat and valour and all that military pomp and circumstance.” She tilted her head. “Well? How was that?”

Nanda drew back. “Urad’s description of your perspicacity in his messages is well-founded. But it does not explain, or justify, your actions. You just want to keep him here.”

Kami regarded her visitor, identifying in Nanda many of the body language signals she had picked up and identified from Urad in her interactions with him. “Of course I want to keep him here. Ensign Kaldron is one of the best young Security Officers that has been my honour and pleasure to know. He is a magnificent combination of strength and restraint, of power and gentleness. He has been an amazing role model, not just to his peers, but to many on the station, especially children.”

Nanda grunted. “He is barely a child himself.”

“But he’s grown up since you last saw him, which I’m sure you’ve seen and heard in his messages home. I was his Counselor after the Battle of Khavak, when he had killed to rescue his friend and colleague from a nasty, horrific fate at the hands of Cardassian invaders. I helped him deal with the guilt and trauma he felt then. And I will help him now… not just because he deserves the help, but because Starfleet desperately needs your Baby Boy, this amazing, selfless, ineffably courageous and valiant warrior, at our side.”

Nanda stared back at her. “You sound sincere.”

Kami nodded. “There are very few in this Galaxy whom I would trust to protect my cubs in my absence. Urad is one of them.” She rose from her seat. “He’s still in his class, along with others who are benefitting from it. I think we can visit him and see if he needs a meal break.”

Moments later, they entered the Therapy Holosuite, Kami ready for the change of environment from the station corridor to an open art studio of wooden and paper walls, of shelves of pottery, and tables with various hand tools. The air was cool and still, with background noise ‘outside’.

In the centre of the room, various people sat on benches at the tables, working on broken pieces of pottery – Urad among them, hunched over his work, using manipulative tools to accommodate his larger hands – while an elderly Asian woman in woolly winter clothes moved about, checking everyone’s work and offering quiet advice.

Nanda watched her son, his attention so focused on his work that he failed to notice their appearance. She kept her voice low as she asked, “What is this place?”

“Neo-Tokyo, 38 years after World War III.” Kami turned and slid aside a window behind her, displaying a holographic representation of a crowded metropolis, some of it in rubble, some of it under repair. “In the decades following their last global conflict, Earth underwent a period of reconstruction.” She felt a chill even through her fur and shut the window, turning back to the interior, and pointing to the elderly woman. “That is a hologram of an artist of the day, Akira Koyama.” Then she led Nanda to the shelves. “And these are the works of herself, and her students.”

The Hroch female frowned at the many items of ceramic bowls, vases, cups, dishes and other items – all with irregular gold-plated or silver-plated crack patterns in them. “They are all broken.”

“They were all broken. Akira’s art is called Kintsugi, or Kintsukuroi: the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquered dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver or other precious metals. It had been a practice of the people for over five centuries by this time.”

Nanda shook her head. “But… But why bother? Why not just recycle and replicate what was broken?”

“They didn’t have replicator technology on Earth at this time. And it wouldn’t matter if they had, because it would defeat the philosophy behind Kintsugi.”

She caught Akira’s attention, and watched as the hologram shuffled closer to the newcomers, hands jammed in her coat pockets. “It’s cold here. You can conjure me up during the summer months any time you want, Counselor.”

Kami smiled. “Apologies, I’ll keep that in mind.” She noted Nanda. “My friend here wanted to know why you don’t just recycle what is broken?”

Akira nodded, looking up at the Hroch and smiling. “Because there is no shame in in having cracks or chips or other so-called flaws. There is history, there is pride, and above all, there is beauty; that is why we emphasise the breakages with gold and silver. We believe that we are like these pots and cups and vases: we gain value as we weather the hardships of life.

Every time we chip, break, and even shatter... that is proof of your value. And it is through your trials, your imperfections and your flaws, that you gain your most valuable of virtues. These imperfections are the evidence of your courage, your tenacity, your patience, your love, and your strength. They are badges of honour, proof of the lessons you’ve learned and the growth you’ve experienced. And with each struggle, each crack, and repair, we add to our beauty.”

“When Earth was recovering from the terrible effects of their war,” Kami continued, “Kintsugi had fallen into obscurity. But then, with the reconstruction both physical and psychological, the art, and the philosophy behind it, resurged in popularity. People embraced it.” She noted the people at the tables, including Urad, Mru, and others. “Many of my patients engage in this, both as a recreation and as a physical and psychological therapy, to help them see and accept their flaws – even the ones they still keep within – as things not to be ashamed of, but embraced.” She leaned in and asked, “How’s he doing?”

“It was difficult at first to use the compensatory tools for such delicate work,” Akira noted, looking at Nanda and smiling. “But your son is a tenacious individual.”

“Yes…” the Battle Major agreed, watching him with more than a little awe and pride. “He is.”

Kami leaned in closer, whispering, “Do you want to speak with him, see how he’s doing?”

She shook her head. “No. I can see for myself how he is doing. And we will remain onboard your station for a few days more… if that is acceptable, Comrade Counselor?”

Kami smiled.

*

Deck 1, Commodore's Family Quarters - 1802 Hrs:

Kami was planning ahead, coming up with a gesture of thanks for the cubs’ minder, Gyver Timbrel, for stepping in and minding them after she escorted them back to their quarters before continuing her duties, when she caught the scent of cooking from the corridor.

She entered to find Esek, Sasha and Mru present, having activated the units in the kitchen area to actually cook food, rather than replicate it, while Misha was expanding the dining room table and setting out cutlery. She breathed in the pleasing scent of frying ninshoots, scarybs and shuris strips. “What’s going on?”

Esek beamed at her. “Ahh, there she is, the one who keeps us all of sound mind and body! Sit, sit, take a load off your tail!”

She smiled, shucking off her jacket as Misha rushed up to take it from her, before gesturing to the nearest chair at the table. “Come on, Mama, I get you a glass of wine!”

“Or maybe Mru will get it for her instead,” Esek suggested, looking towards the younger male. “Would you mind, Lieutenant?”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Please, let’s keep it cosy here; you can call me ‘Commodore’.”

Sasha smacked her father on the arm. “Watch it, Dad, or I’ll start telling all the dirty stories Weynik has been feeding me about your days at the Academy with him!”

Kami took the seat, thanking Mru for the delivered wine, before reaching out to rub under the muzzle of Sreen, who sat in her high chair beside her, wearing a gold paper crown and working at her teething ring. “You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.”

“No trouble, Wife of Mine, just a gesture of appreciation for all that you do for us… besides, life is so rushed of late, how often do we all get together as a family?” He caught Mru’s gaze. “Yes, that includes you, Cub.”

Kami smiled at Mru’s reaction to the inclusion, before reading the words on Sreen’s crown. “So, your title of Poop Queen is official now, eh?”

The toddler stopped chewing to hold out her stubby arms and declare in an operatic melody, “I AM THE POOP QUEEN!”

Kami smirked, looking over at Misha. “A gift from her Big Brother?”

Misha offered a Thumbs Up, before bringing extra chairs over for Sasha and Mru.

“That Kintsugi workshop was amazing,” Mru noted, pouring wine for the rest of the adults. “It was very relaxing, and insightful; thank you for suggesting it, Counselor.”

Kami sipped at her wine. “Well, I’m glad you got something out of it.”

“I certainly did, when I took them,” Esek noted, dishing out the stir fry into the bowls. “When I had the time to take workshops, and wasn’t busy saving the sector.”

“You still can take them,” Kami suggested, teasing. “I can always make them mandatory. I have authority, even over Big Commodes.”

Misha snickered, whispering to Sreen, “Commode is another word for Toilet.”

Sreen looked to her father, pointing and asking, “Poop Queen?”

As they all sat and tucked in, Esek asked, “So, who’s going to Tarot’s Grand Opening tonight?”

“I am!” Misha replied, between mouthfuls of food.

“I believe Mr Latrelle told you not until you’re eighteen,” Kami reminded him, twirling the sesame-coated ninshoot noodles around her fork. “Well, he promised lots of snacks for Sasha.”

“Yeah, he’s gonna regret that,” the human woman promised them, smiling. “Are you two coming?”

“Oh yes,” Esek promised, “We’ll get Gyver or Peter Boone to cubsit.”

“Yes,” Kami said dryly, “Because they’re at our beck and call day and night, and don’t have lives of their own. I’m staying in, I’m exhausted.” She looked at Esek. “You should go, check it out, see what it’s like.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you on your own.”

“No, you don’t, because it’s not like I would appreciate a chance to relax on my own, put my feet up and catch up with the news from the Motherworld.”

Esek stared at her, before leaning over to Sasha and asking in a stage whisper, “You think she’s being sarcastic?”

“Hard to tell, she always sounds like that.”

Misha guffawed. “Yeah, she does!” Then he stopped at a glare from her mother.

*

2130 Hrs:

Sreen gripped onto one leg of her plush, thoroughly-chewed shuris toy Babaloo, swinging it around for balance as she waddled from furniture to furniture. She had been put to bed, her exoframe removed by Mama, but Mama had been tired and forgot to switch it off, allowing Sreen to imitate her Mama’s voice and order the exoframe to return, wrap around her once more and help her get out of bed and back into the living room, to get her other toys to listen to a new song she made up-

The front door slid open, and the purple winged Caitian sand newt that Misha had helped create today with the Magician flew in, dropping behind the kitchen island.

Then Mama appeared behind it, moving around quickly, examining several PADDs on the nearby desk.

Sreen smiled at Mama’s trick. “Mama! I do new song! ‘Babaloo, Babaloo, you no poop, Babaloo-’”

“Shut up.”

The toddler frowned. Why was Mama being so mean? “Mama! Come here, you sad, I sing, you no sad!”

Now Mama looked over at her, baring her teeth. “I said shut up, you little bitch, or I’ll smother you!”

Sreen’s breath caught in her throat, and she began to cry. 

Mama hissed and started towards her, claws bared- until she heard a noise in the bathroom, and rushed out the front door.

Mama emerged from the bathroom, immediately rushing up to Sreen and sweeping her up in his arms. “There, there, Daughter of Mine, what’s happened? What are you doing up out of bed?”

Sreen kept crying, unable to express her terror at the monster that wore her Mama’s fur.

*

Ange Boladede lay on his bunk, running through his academic PADD, staying focused. That was the key. Focus. The loss of so many of his credits was serious, but, as Commander Haluk and Counselor Hrelle had noted, it was not insurmountable.

It was a challenge. And in his young lifetime, he had proven repeatedly that he could face, and overcome, any challenge, whether it was winning the Mhabe Run at age twelve, or being the first freshman cadet to earn a medal in Advanced Marksmanship.

This will be no less difficult to overcome. And he was secretly grateful to Haluk and Hrelle for their discretion as well as their mercy. Had his… infatuation… with Lt Cmdr Hrelle had been made public-

The door slid open, and Macbeth’s Squad Leader, Command Cadet Rachel Nash, entered, looking at him. “Ange, we’re heading out now. Are you sure you don’t want to come along?”

He heard the rest of their squad in their common room, impatient to head out for their expected debauchery. “No, I have work to do.”

She nodded, smiling. “Okay, but the offer still stands. C’Riir says he’s going to teach Denek how to do the Caitian Bolero.”

“Another time.” But when she started to depart, he added, “Rachel…”

She popped her head back in, her expression at his unprecedented familiarity clear. “Uh, yes?”

He thought back, back to the many times she had tried to help him integrate with the rest of the Squad, to make him feel a part of it, despite the superior, dismissive attitude he had displayed since transferring to Salem One to continue their studies. Perhaps, if he had not let himself stay so detached, he wouldn’t have ended up in the situation he was in now? “You are a very accomplished Starfleet cadet… and you are a good friend. 

I have not been a worthy example of either. But that will change. In the near future, I would like to speak to you confidentially about something that has happened. I need… I need to learn to trust. If you’ll let me?”

Nash frowned in consideration, but quickly recovered. “Of course, Ange. Anytime you want.”

Then he was alone again, as he heard them depart. That wasn’t as bad as you had expected. If only Mother was there to see your progress-

The door chime made him rise and enter the common room to respond to it. It was no doubt a fellow cadet, looking for one of the others- “Ma’am! I was not expecting you!”

The Counselor stood there in the corridor, smirking. “No, I suppose not. May I come in?”

“Of course.” He stepped back, aware that he was not fully dressed in uniform, and that the squad’s common room was cluttered-

“I’m not here on a surprise inspection,” she informed him casually, glancing around the interior. “I’m here to see how you’re doing, after today?”

Boladede looked at her. “I- I must admit that I was feeling many things: anger at being confronted in that way, outrage at my privacy being violated, fear at what would happen to me… and then remorse, once I understood how wrong I was.”

She nodded. “All understandable. And now?”

He breathed in. “Determination. Determination to prove your faith that I can remain in Starfleet despite what I had done.” He indicated his PADD. “I have already started making plans whereby the loss credits can be re-earned through cross applications of voluntary-”

He stopped as she held up a paw. “A moment, please, Cadet.” She dropped her paw again, an incredulous look on her face. “Is that what you took away from our meeting? That you really had a chance at staying?”

Then she laughed.

He stood there, thoroughly confused.

And she saw that, too, laughing again. “Oh, Mother’s Cubs, I had forgotten how thoroughly naive you cadets can be!” When she recovered, she drew closer, her tail swishing behind her with glee, reaching up and patting him on the cheek. “Thank you for that. I’m due at the new club tonight, I wasn’t looking forward to it after the day I’ve had, but you’ve lifted my spirits considerably.”

He shook his head, eyes wide, wondering if he had fallen asleep in his bunk, and was still there. “I-I don’t understand-”

“Don’t you? Really?” She paced around him. “You’re even more obtuse than you first seemed.”

She faced him now, looking annoyed now having to explain herself to him. “My husband knows about your disgusting sexual obsession with his daughter! He has spies on the Security team! He’s even seen the computer-generated fantasies you conjured!”

She drew in closer, disgust adding to her annoyance. “And while he can’t be seen to be getting involved in Academy matters, he’s made it clear to Commander Haluk and myself that you will not be successful. Work as hard as you want, but he has ordered us to find something, anything, to fail you. 

And if you try to raise a formal protest, then your disciplinary matter becomes a public court martial. Your family back home will hear of your disgrace, of the shame and dishonour you brought to them.” She shook her head. “Your poor mother…”

His heart sank, mired in incredulity. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening…

“Oh, and he personally made sure that Sasha saw everything,” the Counselor added with what seemed like malicious delight. “To warn her about you. She threw up. She literally threw up.” Then she crossed her arms. “He wanted you to push yourself as hard as you can, and then at the end have you failed and kicked out. But for myself, I’d rather not waste my time with someone as pathetic as you. So, do yourself and everyone else a favour: resign. Or confront my husband. Either way, your life in Starfleet is finished.”

Then she departed.

*

Zir sat in the Commodore’s Office in Ops. There was nothing unusual about this; as his Adjutant, she would use his facilities and authorisation in the performance of her duties.

Now, at this time of night with the staff outside on the Late Shift, she was going above and beyond. Technically, she was breaking Starfleet Regulations, using Commodore Hrelle’s authorisation to access Starfleet Security records, searching, searching.

And finding little of use. Starfleet’s connections to Imperial Orion records were limited; only the Security records regarding Orion raiders, smugglers and slave traffickers who have committed crimes within Federation territory.

She did find some data on Surinh Dag, former Gamesmaster of the notorious Deathmatches… and former owner of Commodore Hrelle, when her commanding officer and mentor had been enslaved by her people. But there was nothing.

She had an identical lack of success trying to find out anything about her family, whom she hadn’t seen for ten years, not since she fled Imperial Space to eventually join Starfleet.

Until a few days ago, when the holographic image of Surinh Dag appeared to her in her quarters, presenting images of her family, claiming to have abducted them, using them as hostages against Zir in order to make Zir do… something. She didn’t know what yet, but she was smart enough to know that it wouldn’t be good.

Surinh Dag also told her not to tell anyone, not if she wanted to keep her family alive. Zir had a duty, had taken an oath of loyalty to Starfleet. And she had remained loyal, even in the face of certain elements she had encountered over the years, who saw her green skin and heard all the salacious stories about Orions being criminal and untrustworthy. Her strongest, staunchest defender, the Commodore, had been the one who promoted her and awarded her this position of authority and responsibility. She couldn’t betray him.

But why should this loyalty hurt her family, innocents who had done nothing to deserve this threat to their lives?

“Lieutenant.”

Zir started, bolting to her feet. “Counselor! I didn’t hear you come in!”

Counselor Hrelle smiled, leaning against the wall near the sliding door, arms folded. “I know; I said your name twice, then used your rank.”

The younger female felt her cheeks turn a darker shade of olive. “I’m sorry, I was just lost in work, I didn’t realise you were here-”

The Counselor held up her paw to cut her off. “No. You weren’t lost in work. And I’m not here.”

Zir stared at her, frowning in confusion. “I- I don’t understand.”

The Counselor glanced at the wall, working the controls to change the transparency, making it opaque to the rest of Ops, before drawing closer, her voice dropping to a confidential whisper. “I’m not here, speaking with you. And if you ask me outside of this office, I’ll deny ever being here with you.

We know you’ve been looking into Surinh Dag… and your family. And we know that he has your family, as part of the plot by the Bel-Zon against us.”

The admission made Zir’s heart skip a beat, and her eyes widened in shock. “Y-You know? H-How-”

The Counselor raised a finger to the tip of her snout in a silencing gesture, her voice a whisper. “What’s important is that we know, and are taking steps. But we can’t let them know that we know. It’s a very delicate balancing act, and we know that the Bel-Zon have made your family pawns in all this, and we are so sorry that you have been put into this position, and not assured before now of what we’re doing.”

Zir’s heart seemed to kick back, race as if to catch up with the change of circumstances. “Y-You- the Commodore- you can help them?”

The Counselor smiled. “We have it in paw. But, when Surinh Dag contacts you again, you have to play along, give him the command codes and follow the instructions they ask for. None of what you do will do them any good. Okay?”

The revelation, this assurance, this hope, felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She offered a fragile smile. “Thank you, Counselor. And thank Commodore Hrelle. I’ll never forget what you’ve both done for me.”

The Counselor smiled back. “I’m sure you won’t. Now, go, relax, maybe find Afrik Rhov and join everyone else at that new club.”

“What? What about you?”

The Counselor grinned and winked, thumbing towards the door. “I’m not here, remember? And I’ll deny ever being here.”

*

Urad breathed in as he knelt on the floor of his quarters, deep in prayer, staring at his open hands resting palm upwards on his knees. He flexed each digit, one after the other, and then back again.

They weren’t back at their former levels. They may never will be, despite the assurances from Comrade Doctor Masterson and all the wonderful, tireless staff here. He knew this.

But still, he couldn’t deny what he did today, in that holographic workshop, under the guidance of that little human whose gentle, but uncompromising attitude, reminded him so much of his mother, and Comrade Counselor Hrelle, and Zir, and Dear Tori. So many wonderful women, loving him, supporting him. Telling him what to do. 

He smiled to himself, for what seemed the first time in an eternity.

“Why do you smile?”

He reacted, looking up to see the Counselor standing there, arms crossed. “Comrade Counselor, I did not hear you come in!! He began to struggle to help himself up.

“Stay where you are. You look insufferably pleased with yourself.”

Urad’s words caught in his throat. “I- I did well today-”

“If you say so. Hopefully, we won’t lose too many more people before you finally stop disgracing yourself with your weakness, your cowardice, and start making yourself worthy of your uniform, you family, your people again.”

He felt a terrible chill at her scathing, unexpected words, so unlike anything he had heard from her before. “Comrade Counselor, is this- is this some psychological tactic-”

She uncrossed her arms, holding them out. “Counselor? I’m no Counselor. ‘I am the One who stands on the All Rock. I stand and watch the Children of Hroch, from birth to death. I see all, and my judgement is never wrong…’”

The words, words he had read so many times in his people’s Creed, reached inside him and clasped around his throat. “No- It can’t be- she’s just a story, an allegory-”

“Blasphemer.” Light grew from around the figure of the Counselor, a light that erupted into coruscating energies that seemed to feed upon the lithe outline, expanding, reshaping as if in some arcane flask, becoming larger, broader, Hroch in size and shape, dressed in the ancient ceremonial robes and gold, clasping the first maapak, the gold measuring staff that help the first civilisations set standards for building walls, buildings, temples, whole cities. The Hroch female aimed it at him. “Suditi judges thee Blasphemer… and Coward.”

“Suditi?” he breathed out, trembling. UIt had to be a dream, a hologram, an illusion, something, anything… No. no, no, no, no….

The light from his people’s Celestial Assayer filled the room…

*

Sasha didn’t think much of the new nightclub, though in truth she wasn’t sure what to expect. The entrance was a set of red and black Gothic doors like some old Terran church, except these slid apart. Mru and she had missed the opening ceremony, and by the time they had arrived, the crowds waiting outside had flowed in, and they followed.

The dark colour schemes and ornate decor continued within, with velvet burgundy and dark alcoves leading here and there, and staff in old-fashioned clothes leading people to tables or the long, black bar lining one wall opposite a stage now occupied by the proprietor – Simon Something – was speaking to an enthusiastic group. “And you should know that everyone who crossed my threshold tonight was added to a special draw tonight, the winner of which will receive a personal card reading from me!” He drew out a set of colourful cards from his jacket, fanning them to Oohs and Ahhs.

Mru leaned in. “‘Card reading’?”

She grunted, looking for Dad, or their friends, among the crowd… and avoiding the bar. “Tarot cards. People on Earth used to believe they could foretell the future.”

“Really? And you people managed to make it into space?”

She smacked his rear. “Go find the others, I’ll get us some drinks.”

He frowned, glancing at the bar. “Maybe I should get the drinks-”

“And maybe you should do as you’re told, or I’ll ask for another Furburn from you?”

The Caitian held up his paws in surrender, and delved into the crowds, which were moving now onto the main dance floor between the bar and the stage, where the host had been replaced by a pair of male singers, one dressd in black and the other in white, belting out a dynamic ballad, enchanting the crowd into undulating waves of dance.

Glad to be some distance from that – getting too old for such juvenile stuff, Sash? – she moved up to the bar, putting in an order for a beer and a mineral water.

She felt a hand on her rear, and readied herself to give the one responsible a lesson in manners, when she stopped herself. “Kami? What are you doing here? What about the cubs?”

The Counselor sided up to her, smiling and winking as she drew the attention of one of the bar staff. “They’re in bed, fast asleep. And I’m not staying long.” To the staff member she ordered, “Three Scalosian Sunbursts, extra vodka.” She looked around. “Nice place. Bet there’ll be more than a few extra visits to the Hospital in the morning for hangovers.”

Sasha grunted, as her order arrived. “That’s one thing I don’t miss.”

The Counselor regarded her. “You know you can drink again, don’t you?”

She looked at her, not sure if she heard correctly over the ambient noise. “Excuse me?”

“You can drink anytime. You’ve proven you can stop anytime. You’re allowed to unwind and enjoy yourself, now and then.”

Sasha blinked; this went against everything she had learned from Kami and others about addiction. “What in the Seven Hells- Kam, what are you saying? What about being ever vigilant to our weaknesses?”

The Counselor rested an elbow on the bartop as her drinks arrived, and she lifted up one of the glasses. “You have been. Now… take a break, start fresh later. You might need the break, if you do what I expect you to do.” She downed her drink in one fluid motion, impressive to Sasha given the amount of alcohol in it.

Sasha frowned. “What are you talking about?”

The Counselor breathed in deeply, seemingly considering how to phrase her reply. “I expect that you’ll ignore my advice and go ahead and propose to Mru. And you’ll need a stiff drink to get over his response.”

Sasha faced her now, her face, her whole body tightening. “His response? What do you know?”

The Counselor sighed. “Medical Confidentiality prevents me from revealing details about all of his doubts and fears about you, Sasha. But I don’t really need to give away anything: you just have to look in the mirror and judge for yourself how suitable you’d be to anyone as a partner, let alone a parent to cubs.”

She pushed the untouched drinks towards her and departed into the crowd.

Sasha stared down at them, stunned.

And picked one up.

*

Kami emerged from the cubs’ bedroom, only having just settled Sreen down back into bed  –  this time ensuring the exoframe was completely switched off this time. Poor little thing, it must have been some nightmare. And to be honest, their little lives were so tumultuous, it was astounding that there weren’t more nights with bad dreams.

The door chimed as she was refilling her wine glass, and she carried her glass with her as she approached, wondering who would be visiting that time of night, when they could just send a comm- “Ange?”

Cadet Ange Boladede stood in the corridor, clearly livid with rage. A part of Kami had expected such a reaction to what he had undergone today; regardless of how much of it he had brought upon himself, it was natural to feel anger at being caught out. “Cadet, it’s not appropriate to come to my quarters-”

“Bitch.”

She glanced down, saw a phaser in his hand.

She instinctively tried to dodge and kick the weapon out of his grip.

She was quick.

He was quicker.

The energy bolt struck her, sending her flying backwards...

TO BE CONTINUED...