Surefoot 11: Patterns, Repeated

"You see?" Jonas exclaimed. "No profound change there! They believe everything that Hitler and his followers did: in their superiority over others, in hate and bigotry! "

"Many races emerged into the Galactic Community with similar bombastic attitudes; exposure to other worlds and cultures, and a greater sense of their own place in the Universe, inevitably helped them find perspective and rationality."

Jonas stared, clearly flustered by her calm reaction to his argument, before bringing up an image of the Nazi swastika onto the main screen, pointing at it. "That symbol-"

"-Was co-opted by the National Socialists, and for centuries before and after their rise to power, it was recognised throughout your world as a religious icon and sacred symbol of spiritual principles in Buddhism, Hinduism and Jainism."

"Why the hell are you taking their side?" Jonas demanded, his voice raised.

She measured her response. "I am not, Mr Ostrow, and I will ignore your insubordinate tone - this time. But I will remind you, all of you, that you will encounter many people during your tenure in Starfleet, people with whom you will strongly disagree. You need to learn to ignore them, and rise above whatever provocations they might offer. You are better than they are."

"That- That's-" Jonas started, pausing and conceding, "That's logical, I guess."

"One would hope so. Now, I suggest that all of you return to the station and enjoy yourselves. Unless you wish to stay and complete a more comprehensive report on the history and evolution of Prime Directive Protocols?"

Neraxis jumped to her feet. "No thank you, Ma'am! Come on, guys, I want to see those Draylax cabaret dancers and find out if the rumours are true!"

Soolamea drew up and slipped an arm around Jonas'. "Come on, Honey Bear, let's forget about those nasty Ekosians."

"Yeah, come on, Honey Badger," Neraxis teased, lightly smacking the back of his head as she passed him.

Jonas let them lead him away.

*

To his credit, he did try to follow T'Varik's advice. They had a quick bite at a Replimat before heading for the Cabaret, relaxing, drinking and enjoying the various acts (and learning that the rumours about the Draylax were true).

Afterwards, they found an al fresco bar near the Entertainment District (at least, as al fresco as a bar could get inside a space station), and he drank, bought another round, made the appropriate small talk, flirted with Soo, laughed when Beaudine and Ingalls would play-fight before Ingalls would embarrass his boyfriend by singing love songs to him. He even joked about how Sasha might have been coping on Cait with all the casual nudity from the natives that time of year, prompting Neraxis to go on a raucous ramble about the pros and cons of furred genitalia.

And then the Nazis came.

There was ten of them, all young, all uniformed in various brown-coloured versions of the black uniform Hurensohn wore, two of them Jonas identified as being with the Major himself earlier. They shifted some tables together and summoned the waiter over, ordering a number of drinks.

Jonas was staring hard in their direction - until Soo put a hand on his forearm. "Stop that, ignore them! We'll finish up and head back to the Surefoot."

Jonas grunted and shifted back in his seat to face the others. "Sorry."

Kit leaned forward, his eyes glazed over from the honey-flavoured alcoholic drinks he favoured - heavily - slurring his attempt at an English accent. "Don't be mithered by those - hiccup! - tossers, Good Friend Jonas, they're nuttin' but a pack of bloody wasters, innit?"

"I understood maybe four of those words," Neraxis admitted, chuckling. "Am I drunk or is he getting worse?"

"Both," Beaudine assured her.

"Oh, look at the little Starfleeters!" a snide voice called out.

Jonas glanced up, watching one of the Ekosians, the girl who had spoke up earlier, rose and smiled humourlessly in their direction, fed on a newly-arrived pint of beer and the laughter of her friends. "You all seem so glum, so gloomy!" She grinned at Neraxis. "So blue!" The blonde girl howled over the laughter of her friends.

Neraxis turned in her chair, her beefy arm leaning over the back of it, her skin a deep dark cerulean from the alcohol. "That's about as funny as it's original, you nasty little skank-"

"Ignore them," Jonas warned, though he felt the same anger as his friend. "Let's just drink up and get going."

"Oh, don't leave on our account!" the Ekosian taunted, drawing closer, fuelled by the encouragement from her friends back at the table. "We mean no offence! We like Starfleet! We like the Federation! We admire it!" She focused on Jonas first. "Where else in the Galaxy could there be a place for poor little Jews?" She looked over at Beaudine and Ingalls. "Or degenerates?" Then her contemptuous glare encompassed the rest of them. "Or these Untermenschen, the mongrel trash of the Universe?"

Neraxis kicked back her chair and rose up. "Say one more thing, bitch, and the trash'll be taking you out!"

The Ekosian's friends stood up, as did Jonas and the cadets, but Jonas was determined to not let this escalate. T'Varik was right; they were Starfleet. They were better than this. Glaring at the Ekosian woman, he announced, "We're going. Come on, everyone - that's an order."

The cadets turned and started away.

"Of course, Little Jew, you run along!" the Ekosian taunted, chuckling. "You probably need to go de-worm your Captain."

The cadets stopped.

Jonas turned and faced the Ekosians again, his hands starting to tremble and his eyes going red with each passing second. "What did you say about Captain Hrelle?"

The Ekosian girl was grinning, drinking from her pint glass before replying. "We've seen the pictures of him, the Caitian." She spoke his race's name like it was a curse. "He's... adorable! So cute and cuddly, like a fat teddy bear!" She confirmed with glances to the other Ekosians, then returned her invective to Jonas. "But tell us... does he shed? Is he litter trained?" She chuckled, her friends joining in. "How can even a Jew possibly take orders from some filthy flea-bitten animal?"

Something inside Jonas clicked to Red Alert.

But before he could react, Kit strode forward. "BOLLOCKS TO THIS!"

And then headbutted the Ekosian girl.

She shrieked and staggered backwards, dropping and spilling her pint glass, her friends attempting and failing to catch her before she fell to the floor on her ass, clutching her bloodied face, her eyes wide in sheer disbelief.

A disbelief Jonas shared, as he looked at his best friend. "Kit! What the hell-"

But the Qarari, the skin of his throat a royal purple flush indicative of both rage and inebriation, sneered and stuck two webbed fingers up at the stunned Ekosians. "Well? Have ya had enough, ya Nazi bastards, or do ya want some more?"

They wanted some more.

Jonas had no time to say anything to the others, before Broadway erupted into chaos, the cadets and the Ekosians grappling. Jonas took a punch to the jaw that staggered him backwards, but he rounded with a coiled fist and let fly into his opponent's broad nose. That felt- no, wait, that really hurt! He had never actually punched anyone before; Neraxis made it look so easy.

Speaking of which, the Bolian was leading the assault now, but he was more concerned about the others, none of them Security-trained. But they seemed to be holding their own; since their altercation with the stronger, more vicious Ferasans the other week, the cadets seemed more willing to engage in a fight.

Fists flew and bodies spun all around him, and he knew that they should stop this and get out while they could, but his fists were tingling for more and he couldn't make himself stop, his anger and stress over the last several hours bursting from him like gas from a broken pipe-

Until Station Security arrived, one of them getting Jonas in an armlock that quickly and efficiently took away his urge to continue fighting.

*

154's cells were large, given the number of people who frequent the station; the cadets were placed together, and to their credit, the Security staff provided him with a basic medikit to allow him to patch up the various cuts and bruises he and the others had received from the fight, until they were released and returned to the Surefoot.

He knelt beside Kit, who looked a little greener than usual and was moaning slightly. "Kit, I have to admit that you were the last one of us I expected to start something."

The Qarari nodded weakly as Jonas passed the autosuture over one of Kit's scrapes, the reinforced bony structure of his skull ensuring the headbutting did less harm to him than one might expect, and he had momentarily dropped the English Punk accent and persona, looking more contrite. "In my defence, Good Friend Jonas, I am drunk, and I really, really wanted to respond to that Nazi after what she said about the Most Respected Captain. Although I am feeling guilty about striking a female-"

"Hey, cut that chivalrous shit out right now!" Neraxis warned him, as she flexed her fingers and chuckled. "She got what she deserved! Holy Hraxor, the look on their faces when you walloped her was priceless!"

But Kit shook his head weakly. "Please, Friend Neraxis, I am not proud of my behaviour."

"Don't knock yourself, buddy, it was terrific!"

"No it wasn't!" Soo countered, looking scared and annoyed. "We can get into serious trouble because of that fight! We could end up with a criminal record! Maybe even expelled from the Academy!" She was scowling at Jonas now while she said it.

He couldn't fail to notice it. "What are you looking at me like that for? I didn't start the fight!"

The Rigelian girl scowled. "No, but you're the one who's been encouraging us to be mad at the Ekosians, and as far as I've seen, all they've done is make a few jokes at our expense! The Commander was right, we should be bigger than that!"

"They insulted the Captain!" Ingalls reminded her angrily, wincing at his own bruised jaw. "They insulted all of us!"

She looked to him. "And so we had to sink down to their level? What did fighting them prove?"

"It proved that Nazis don't stop unless someone stops them." Jonas set aside the medikit and stood up. "And I'm not done stopping them. They're marching on Broadway tomorrow. I intend to do something about it."

"Yeah?" Neraxis nodded in admiration. "What have you got planned, Scrappy?"

"I-" He paused, too driven by the desire to do something to think exactly what. He wished Sasha had been here; if nothing else, her family was close to their Jewish roots, in fact still practised it, when he could only claim it in his distant ancestry. She'd understand what this was all about even more. "I'm- I'm not sure..."

"Firstly," Kit suggested. "Filing a formal protest with the Station's Starfleet Liaison Office, which will require an appropriate investigation and response from their staff. Also, we shall submit a simultaneous request with the Station's Administrative Offices for an appropriate counter-demonstration, and arrange for a number of press releases with the local news media. We can send additional invitations to the ships currently docked here or about to arrive here to join us."

Jonas looked at him, impressed. "You've thought this through."

Kit shrugged. "I have had some... experience with political activism on my world. Would you please excuse me for a moment, Good Friend Jonas?"

"Excuse you? For what?"

Almost immediately Kit rose and then dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, retching loudly into the bowl. Beaudine rose and drew closer, obtaining a paper cup of water from the nearby wall fountain for the Qarari.

"Thanks, Bill," Jonas nodded, feeling queasy himself before looking to the others. "Kit's got the right idea. We'll hold our own demonstration!"

The others nodded and made sounds of agreement - except for Soo. "Count me out, Jonas. I'm not getting into any more trouble. We'll be lucky if T'Varik doesn't leave us locked up here after what happened."

"A logical fear."

Jonas and the others turned and looked through the open doorway of their cell with its invisible forcefield, to the new visitors: Commander T'Varik; Major Hurensohn; an Andorian male in a Starfleet uniform with Lieutenant Commander's pips; and a Zakdorn male in oatmeal-beige civilian clothes. T'Varik stepped forward. "Mr Ostrow, when I last saw you and your friends, I believe I suggested you return to the station and enjoy yourselves. Not to engage in a fight."

Jonas cleared his throat. "To be fair, Commander... the fight was enjoyable."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do I appear conducive to facetiousness at this point, Cadet?"

He reddened. "Sorry, Ma'am."

Hurensohn harrumphed. "Typical! Joking about an unprovoked attack on my race!" He looked to the Zakdorn. "See? This is how Starfleet always behaves! Always superior, always belligerent!"

"Hey, shithead!" Neraxis snapped, "Your nasty little racist assholes were the ones who started this! They're lucky they didn't end up blown out an airlock!"

"Be quiet, Cadet!" the Andorian ordered.

Neraxis looked to him, but bit back any further retort, as ignorant as the rest of him to the man's identity.

T'Varik resumed command of the conversation, indicating the Andorian. "This is Lieutenant Commander Sevris, Starbase Chief of Security." Then she noted the Zakdorn. "This is Mr Biryani, from the Station Administration Office. And it is obvious you already know Major Hurensohn."

Jonas ignored the leering, triumphant face of the Ekosian. "Commander, I take full responsibility for the actions of the cadets on the station-"

"No!" Hurensohn butted in. "They're all responsible! I want them all punished!"

"The cadets are under my direct authority, Major," T'Varik informed him, never taking her eyes off of Jonas. "And I will deal with them, as I see fit."

"I'm inclined to agree with Major Hurensohn," Biryani admitted, his beige face looking more like melted wax as he simpered at the jailed cadets. "Their obviously intolerant behaviour does not put Starfleet in a positive light. I may have to file a formal protest with Starfleet Command."

Sevris turned to him, looking a little anxious at that. "Mr Biryani, I can assure you that Starfleet respects and tolerates all cultures! You can't judge all of us by the actions of these young people."

Beaudine stepped up to the doorway beside Jonas, careful not to get closer and get bumped by the invisible force field. "Whose side are you on anyway? They approached us, insulted us, attacked us!"

"Indeed?" T'Varik asked. "Who threw the first punch?"

The cadets paused, looked to each other, before Kit joined them, swaying slightly, vomit on his leather jacket. "Excuse me, Respected Commander, but it was not a punch, but a headbutt. They had exhibited the most rude attitudes towards ourselves and the Most Respected Captain."

"Lies!" Hurensohn denied. "Lies and propaganda spread by our enemies! We are not in the least bit bigoted towards anyone! We may be proud of ourselves and our accomplishments, but what race isn't?" He looked to the Zakdorn. "Mr Biryani, have there been any reports of trouble involving my party that didn't involve these Starfleet cadets?"

Biryani's gaze narrowed in consideration. "No. You and your party have been most cordial during your stay."

The Ekosian nodded, satisfied. "No, because we raise our young people to show discipline and respect for authority! And now these cadets have as much as admitted they intend to disrupt our Rally tomorrow! A Rally that you personally approved of! If they're allowed the freedom to do so, this could disrupt the delicate negotiations we are planning with the Klingon Empire! Do you want an interstellar incident on your station?"

Panic suddenly crossed Biryani's simpering face at the notion. "Absolutely not!" He looked to Sevris. "I want them locked up for the duration of their stay here!"

The young Andorian paused, and looked to T'Varik. "That- That might be for the best, Commander."

"Thank you for your input, Lieutenant Commander, but I believe there is a more appropriate compromise." T'Varik turned back to the cadets. "I am forbidding you from arranging or participating in any public counter-demonstration against the Ekosian rally. Any attempt to do so will result in your immediate expulsion from Starfleet Academy."

Jonas' jaw dropped. "Commander... I can't believe you'd do this-"

"We will not discuss this further here, Cadet." She looked to Sevris. "Will you release them to my custody now?"

The Andorian nodded, shutting down the forcefield. As the rest of the cadets rose to their feet, T'Varik ordered, "Follow me. And do not speak."

*

They obeyed, the Vulcan silently leading the way until they were back in one of the corridors of the Surefoot. Then she glanced at them and said, "Dismissed."

She started to depart, but Jonas ignored the warning looks from the others to snap, "Permission to speak now, Commander?"

She stopped, turned and regarded him. "Yes, Mr Ostrow?"He started, swallowed and then continued. "Commander, I'm- I'm appalled that, no matter your reasons, you would take the side of the fascists-"

"Mr Ostrow, before you launch into what I am certain will be a florid polemic against the wrongness of my decision, allow me to cut to the proverbial chase: I have certainly not taken the side of the fascists. What I have done is remove you from the scrutiny of the station personnel."

"I can't believe-" He paused. "What?"

She almost sighed. "You appear determined to not ignore the Ekosians. Therefore, I am guiding you towards a more acceptable alternative to yet another inevitable altercation. I forbade all of you from arranging or participating in any public counter-demonstration to the Rally. I did not forbid you from finding a means of preventing the Rally."

He paled, eyes wide with confusion. "Preventing it? How-"

She set her hands behind her back, her tone becoming more familiar, more tutorial. "Why are the Ekosians marching? What is their reason for being on this station?"

The others drew up, Neraxis offering, "It's a display, a show. They're here to make an alliance with the Klingons." The Bolian grunted. "I'm sure they'll have a lot in common."

"Will they?" T'Varik countered cryptically. Without offering a further explanation, she ordered, "Report to Sickbay for detoxication before deciding on your next course of action. I recommend a perusal of the Khitomer Accords, for a start; however, I would strongly advise you that whatever you do, you take no illegal action whatsoever."

She left them at that.

*

They weren't long out of Sickbay when Jonas suggested, "Let's get to the Mess Hall for some coffee; I think I have an idea."

"No," Soo announced bluntly, "Count me out. I'm not getting involved in this anymore. It's not my fight."

She started back towards the cadets' quarters, but Jonas raced up to her, blocking her. "Wait! We need you- I need you!"

Soo looked at him with a mix of emotions. "Jonas, I know that this is important to you, I don't know why, it was over four hundred years ago-"

"Soo," he started, swallowing and continuing. "They killed my family."

She stared at him in confusion.

He paled, growing sadder. "After that business meeting the 22nd Century Terrans on the Rising Star, I became more interested in learning about my ancestors. They- They originated in Warsaw, Poland. One Ostrow, Jakob, emigrated to America against the wishes of the rest of the family in 1933.