Surefoot 15: Flinch

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," Cheung asked. "May I have an alternative assignment, please?"

The temperature in the room seemed to cleave in half.

The sable-furred Caitian stared at the young cadet in sheer disbelief. "What did you just ask me?"

Cheung was sneering now. "May I have an alternative assignment, please, Ma'am?"

Beside him, Adams wore a similar expression. "Me, too, Lieutenant. We have no interest in working with Flinches."

Neraxis rose to her feet. "Excuse me, Lieutenant, I need to speak with the Captain-"

"Stay right there, Cadet." C'Rash approached the table where the cadets sat, addressing them all, and sounding calmer than she looked seconds before. "There seems to be some issue regarding the Nakatomi Scenario and the expected reactions to it. Now, I'd be interested in knowing how the other cadets might have responded to the order to destroy a ship full of Federation civilians - and I am ordering all of you to be honest with me." She looked to Thykrill. "How about you?"

The Andorian's antennae dipped at the attention aimed her way. Her dark blue eyes narrowed. "Once, I might have said I would do it without hesitation. But I have since faced real threats, threats who were out to kill me. Death... became more real to me. My own, and others." She looked up at a downcast Neraxis. "I have never been overly fond of the Bolian... but I do not envy the burden she was given."

C'Rash nodded, looking to Orogg. "And how about you?"

The tall salmon-pink Saurian's wide ovoid eyes darkened, and his thin lips pursed in scrutiny. "I might have done it. But I do not know how I would have felt afterwards. No matter the justification, there must be guilt. How can there not be?"

Across from them, Cheung made a smirking sound. C'Rash turned to him. "How about you, sport? How would you have handled the orders?"

Cheung glanced around, visibly puffing himself up to reply, "Without a problem, Lieutenant." He shot a contemptuous look in Neraxis' direction. "It wouldn't have bothered me."

"Really? No sleepless nights? Nothing?"

He shrugged. "Tough for them, but I'm just doing my job."

C'Rash nodded at that, and looked to Adams. "And you, Cadet? Would you have had any problems following that command?"

The Irishgirl leaned back and smiled. "I'd have been firing before the Captain even finished the order."

Nearby, C'Rash felt Gorman and several of the more experienced crewmen react to that; they understood where she was taking this line of questioning. "Oh, really? Well, that's illuminating." She smacked her combadge. "Lt C'Rash to Commander T'Varik."

"T'Varik here."

"Commander, effective immediately Cadets Cheung and Adams have had their security certifications revoked."

Cheung paled, rising to his feet. "What? You can't do that-"

C'Rash stabbed a finger in his direction. "Sit. Down. Now." As he nervously complied, she continued. "They're on Minimum Security Status, restricted to their quarters, with supervised access only to the mess hall, gym and instruction room. They'll need to recertify, and undergo full Counseling assessments; I believe you can provide the required retraining programs, and the Counselor can accommodate the latter. It'll take them a week at least to get back to speed, and the rest of my team will have to cover for their absence. But as a gesture of thanks, Delta and Epsilon Squads will forfeit their group replicator rations for the interim to my security crew."

"Acknowledged," the Vulcan confirmed. "May I ask the reason they lost their certification?"

"Disrespect. Lt C'Rash out." She sneered at a stunned-looking Cheung. "Why look so shocked? You just told everyone here you would have no problem with killing hundreds of innocent people. Do you think that's normal? Do you think that's responsible? Do you think the Captain wants someone like that at the phaser controls? There's a reason you undergo Compulsory Counseling whenever you're involved in the death of someone else: because it's recognised what a terrible, traumatic act it really is. No one should look forward to it, or dismiss it."

Then she turned at an ashen-faced Adams. "And you! Did you really think I'd be impressed with someone who claims they'll fire on another ship before the captain even finishes giving his orders? Oh I'm impressed all right - I'm impressed that you two arrogant little tailchasers managed to get as far as you have without any understanding of what it means to do this job." She pointed at Neraxis. "And you have the gall to look down on her? I'd sooner have her at my side than a hundred of either of you! Mr Gorman, escort them to their quarters."

The ginger-haired young ensign drew up to the cadets. "Come on, geniuses."

As she watched them rise and walk out, Crash regarded Neraxis, who still looked ready to walk away. "Ignore them, they know nothing. Cadet Thykrill, you and Nemm will man Docking Bay 2."

The Andorian rose. "Aye, Lieutenant."

But the Bolian girl continued to look defeated.

*

The Surefoot met with the Iberia, docking clamps were engaged, and with a surprising level of assuredness, courtesy of the supervision of Lt. Neheru, the crew began the process of transferring cargo, with the appropriate level of security provided for various materials like photon torpedoes and phaser power packs.

Neraxis and Thykrill took their posts, saying nothing to each other... but whenever Neraxis looked at the Andorian, Thykrill would offer her a supportive nod. It was almost a relief.

Until the time she was given a break, and went to grab some food in the Crew's Mess Hall - and finding Jonas there, tucking into a huge and delectable-looking double cheeseburger. He brightened up as he saw her approach with her own tray. "Hey, there's my sparring partner! How's it going with the cargo transfers?"

She settled down opposite him. "Boring."

"Sorry to hear that."

She shook her head. "Don't be. I've had enough excitement for a lifetime." She picked at her curry. "I heard you got in trouble with T'Varik sticking up for me. You shouldn't have done that, Jonas. I'm not worth it."

He smiled. "Don't sound so special. I'd have done the same for anyone in Alpha Squad."

She let her fork rest in the concoction. "You don't know what that test brought out in me. You don't know how it made me feel-"

"It made you feel lost," he ventured soberly, catching her attention once more. "It made you feel adrift, and alone, and afraid. I've been there, remember? You, and all my other friends reminded me that they were there for me. We love you, Neraxis. I love you."

Then they were interrupted by Ledit, who approached and sat down without invitation beside Neraxis, a cup of black coffee in his hands. "Good evening, cadets, I trust you both are well?" Without waiting for a reply, assuming s/he ever wanted one in the first place, s/he turned to Neraxis. "You're looking better than when I last saw you, Cadet Nemm. Perhaps you've managed to appreciate the opportunity you received?"

She looked at hir. "What are you talking about, 'opportunity'?"

"We're having a private conversation here, Mx Ledit," Jonas informed hir coldly.

Ledit ignored him. "The opportunity? To see what you're made of, as the humans like to say? Better to do it now in a false scenario than when you're genuinely needed by others, but can't meet your obligations, and real lives are lost because of your inaction."

"She has no problem meeting any obligations," Jonas snapped.

Now Ledit glanced at him. "You didn't see her on the bridge. No offence to her, but it wasn't a pretty sight. Do you really think Captain Hrelle will trust her again? Or for that matter any captain, now that this is on her record?" He focused on Neraxis again. "The senior officers and the squad leaders had a meeting about you."

She looked up again. "You did?"

The Hermat nodded. "I just wanted you to know that you have our full support, should you choose to stay in Starfleet. On an alternate career path, of course."

"What?"

"Well, it's obvious that Security isn't the right career for you. I thought perhaps Engineering? That's a less challenging field."

"Excuse me?" Jonas exclaimed.

"Or perhaps the Support Services?" Ledit suggested. "Someone has to keep the ship clean."

Jonas rose to his feet, looking ready to climb over the table and throttle hir. "You need to get the hell of out here before I send you to Sickbay."

Ledit remained unmoved. "You need to calm yourself and sit down again, Cadet, before you're up on charges for threatening a Squad Leader." S/he offered a baring of hir pointed teeth. "After I've taught you a painful lesson, of course."

"Sit down, Jonas," Neraxis urged quietly - but then stared Ledit down. "I'm not taking an alternate career path; if I'm not good enough for Security, I'm not good enough for Starfleet. And if you threaten Scrappy or any of my other friends again, I'll put my boot so far up your ass your next turd will be leather-bound. And since I'm ready to be kicked out now, I have nothing to lose by doing so."

Ledit regarded her, before rising up. "I was merely trying to be helpful, Cadet Nemm. Good luck with your future, wherever it takes you - because it certainly won't be here."

He left.

Jonas settled down again. "Jerk. Don't listen to hir, s/he's talking crap. I'll tell Sash-"

"No." Neraxis stared at her food, her appetite gone. The Captain, T'Varik, Kami... they all thought she wasn't cut out for this, despite their assurances. Fine.

*

"Come."

Neraxis entered, glancing around the Ready Room. "Sir, I-"

She stopped and saw Hrelle looking at himself. Literally. He was near his desk, in front of the holocommunicator disk on the floor, which now projected an exact duplicate of himself, only sporting a white canvas harness on his back. He kept walking around the image. "Hi, Neraxis. Come on in. What do you think?"

"Um... what is it supposed to be?"

"A cub harness; Caitian infants develop quickly, and the Bump will be up and about before you know it. I have my holocommunicator tied into the replicator systems to display various items available, clothes and accessories, that sort of thing, as they would look on me. I know the birth is months away, but Kami's pheromones are making me even more broody and protective of my cubs than usual. Anyway, I've narrowed it down to two: this one." He touched a control on his PADD. "And this."

The image changed slightly, to display a similar harness but worn on the front. "Which do you think is better, to have the cub in front or on the back? I have no experience with this sort of thing, and Sasha was already six when I met her mother. Maybe I should get both?"

"The one on the front, Sir."

He looked to her. "Really? I thought the cub would want to watch where we're going."

She shook her head, smiling. "The only thing they want to look at is you, Sir. Later when they're crawling, they'll want to get away from you and explore the Galaxy. But until then, you are their Galaxy."

"I never thought of it like that." He smiled. "I probably seem so naive to you." He turned off the image and approached her. "I'm glad you're here, I wanted to talk to you-"

"Sir," she cut him off. "I'm coming to you with this instead of Commander T'Varik, because I think you might understand better-"

"You want to quit."

She stopped. "How did you know?"

He shrugged. "I've been in your position, years before you were even a glint in your mother's eye. Speaking of which, I was also talking with her before."

"You were?"

"The parents of all my cubs have the priority protocols necessary to reach me in emergencies - thankfully, most of them haven't abused that privilege. She was worried when she talked with you earlier today, said that wasn't her little Ner-Ner." He smiled at the nickname.

She flushed purple with embarrassment. "Sir, I'm sorry that she-"

"That she what, was concerned for you? As a fellow parent, I can hardly fault her." He set a hand on her shoulder. "Okay, let's go to the Shuttlebay to continue this conversation."

"The Shuttlebay, Sir?"

"Yes, we're going away on a mission; I've cleared it with C'Rash and T'Varik. You and I are off to reconnoiter our next assignment."

"Which is?"

He smiled. "That would be telling."

*

The runabout Sureswift launched within minutes, and Neraxis remained distinctly uneasy and expectant, waiting. Waiting for the inevitable lecture from Captain Hrelle about how wrong she was to feel like this, how she couldn't quit and throw away her dreams like this, etcetera.

But he didn't. He chatted happily away about Kami's pregnancy, his own phantom discomforts whenever the Bump was restless, the amusement at how ruffled Lt. Neheru got over Lt. C'Rash's grooming herself in the Rec Room, even a comparison of the replicators between the Officers' and the Enlisted Mess Halls. They shared a dinner of extra spicy fried chicken, as well as a collection of some of the filthiest jokes ever imagined.

She loved the time. It reminded her of the nights she spent with Papa before he died, before she took on so much responsibility around the household while her other parents were busy.

But still, the expectation of the inevitable grew too much, and she finally declared, "I'm not changing my mind, Sir!"

He sat across from her in the cockpit, a last chicken drumstick half-finished in his grip. He offered it to her. "Look, Neraxis, if you want the rest of it-"

"You know what I mean, Sir!"

He scrutinised her, before turning and flinging the drumstick into the replicated bucket with the rest of the remains. He licked his fingers. "Fine." But then a proximity alarm made him sit up and run his greasy fingers over the controls. "Ah, we're coming into view of our destination."

Neraxis frowned. "Destination? You mean we're not just-"

"Not just what? Do you think I'm the type of commanding officer who would use Starfleet property to take one of his crew out on a bogus mission just to help them deal with a personal crisis?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Yes, Sir. Yes, you would."

He laughed - then nodded ahead. "See for yourself."

She did. They were quickly approaching a large, derelict, depowered starship, of obvious Starfleet design and construction. The distinctive two vertically-stacked nacelles told her it was a Challenger-class ship, and there were large chunks blown from its saucer section and the lower nacelle. She stared at it in fascination. "Sir?"

He stared as well. "Cadet, say hello to the USS Limaari: NCC-44771. She's proudly served on the Tholian, Tzenkethi and Cardassian borders for sixty years. Named for Otahn Limaari, a 22nd Century starship captain who commanded a Daedalus-class ship named the Charlemagne during the Romulan War." He chuckled. "I served on her thirty years ago, and when I first boarded, Captain Cassius Tolliver made us all memorise the history of the vessel, stressing how important it was that we knew where we had been, before we knew where we were going. I can't believe I still remembered that, after all this time."

As Hrelle piloted, gliding the Sureswift around the much larger vessel, Neraxis stared out at it, her own worries momentarily set aside. "What is she doing out here?"

"It was her last post, on the frontlines during the Cardassian War. She remained behind with a skeleton crew to take on three Galor-class warships and buy time for more damaged vessels to make their escape. She's been out here adrift ever since; Starfleet Command asked us to make an assessment of its potential for retrieval and salvage." He grunted. "I'm amazed so much of her survived intact. Amazed and pleased. She's too fine a lady just to go to the scrapyards." He drew them up to the Engineering Hull and parked them against the hull itself with magnetic clamps, before rising to his feet. "Come on, suit up."

She looked at him. "Suit up, Sir?"

He nodded. "I told you, we're here to make an assessment. And I'm not going to pass up the opportunity to visit one of my old stomping grounds."

She wanted to protest, without knowing why. She looked out again at the hull of the Limaari. She remembered reading about her, about the sacrifice she made during the War. To say that she walked its decks, before she returned home to Bolius...

In ten minutes they were in exosuits and beamed aboard, hand torches lighting the way, their magnetic boots keeping them to the floor as they moved through one of the lower decks, nudging aside debris floating in the zero gravity around them.

And suddenly, Neraxis was afraid. She blamed Jonas, and his penchant for those old Terran horror videos of spooky houses and hospitals. Bolians didn't believe in ghosts, but Holy Hraxor, she couldn't stop the chill racing down her spine as she almost urgently covered every corner they approached with the light from her torch. Damn it, Scrappy-

"Spooky, isn't it?" Hrelle asked, as if reading her mind. "No one's been back since she'd been abandoned." His tail, sheathed in its own attachment at the rear of his exosuit, slapped against the adjacent wall, making an eerie sound. "Damn."

She looked to him. "What's wrong, Sir?"

"My butt itches."

She chuckled. "Thank you for this, Sir."

"For what?"

"A final adventure."

"Who says it's final?"

She grew sad again. "I do, Sir. I know you mean well, wanting me to do something other than Security-"

"Who says I want you to do that?"

She stopped. "Squad Leader Ledit. You all had a meeting about me."

He frowned. "No we didn't. You were brought up in a meeting, by hir, s/he recommended you try an alternate career path, and I basically recommended s/he kiss my furry ass."

It was bullshit? That son/daughter of a bitch! But still, it didn't change how she felt now. "Captain, I can't go on, I don't know if I'll... I tried to convince myself something was wrong with me. All that was wrong with me was that I was terrified."

He stopped and stared at her, his concern and consternation clear through the visors of their respective helmets. "You were faced with the prospect of ending hundreds of lives, even if they were under my orders. Why would you think that being terrified by that prospect is wrong? It is terrifying! It should be!

I took my Nakatomi when I was a midshipman, older than you are. It was slightly different from yours; they actually played fake audio logs of the crew and passengers calling for help, crying, begging for mercy, as I was ordered to blow them up.

Neraxis... I peed myself. I tried to hide it, excused myself as quickly as I could. But people found out - certainly the next guy in that seat figured it out. They called me Scaredy Cat for a year, which admittedly is probably better than the urine-themed names they could have come up with.

I was humiliated. I was angry. I wanted to go, too. Later, I understood the purpose of it all.

Neraxis, I don't want someone up there who doesn't care about the potential for loss of life! I don't want a thug, I don't want an assassin. I want someone I can trust."

His gloved hands reached out and held her by the reinforced shoulder pads on her suit. "I trust you."

She looked up at him, fighting the torrent of emotions within her. Wanting to believe him. "I could- I could fail next time-"

"Maybe. I could fail, too. So can Kami, or Dr Ling, or Chief Grev, or Sasha or anyone else onboard the Surefoot - except for T'Varik; she's really annoying about that - but that possibility exists no matter what we're doing, whether we're Starfleet officers or parents or partners. You may as well be doing something you love."