Surefoot 19: Star Crossed

Sasha stiffened, and a part of her almost refused, despite knowing the consequences. But finally she steeled herself, looked to Ledit, swallowed and announced, "I'm sorry."

"I understand," Ledit replied, nodding genially.

S/He seemed sincere.

But Sasha remained on edge.

Then the voice of T'Varik broke in over the intercom. "Lieutenant Neheru, your meeting with the Squad Leaders should have ended 1.86 minutes ago. You are all required to take your assigned posts immediately."

Neheru rose, towering over all of them, his threat tendrils only just beginning to recede. "Yes, well, perhaps we can forget this little disagreement and get to work? You all know what you're doing, but should anything more be needed, please contact me."

Ledit nodded to Neheru and started for the door. Sasha almost followed, but Giles tightened his hold on her arm. "Maybe... you should count to ten before following hir?"

"Twenty might be more apropos," Neheru suggested.

*

The crews of the Surefoot and the Tempest worked together as the docking ports opened, the former ship's Security supervising the transfer of photon torpedoes, phaser parts and other classified equipment, while the cadets and the Support crew under Lt Neheru managed the resupply of replicator protein packages, spare parts and medical supplies, and the Surefoot Engineering crew under Chief Grev liaised with their Tempest counterparts to prioritise the repair work.

Commander T'Varik strode into Cargo Bay 1, finding the person she was seeking: a short, young-looking Trill female with chestnut hair drawn back tightly as if to reveal her race's distinctive rows of brown spots bordering her oval face. "Commander Olir? I am Commander T'Varik, First Officer of the Surefoot."

The younger woman turned, appearing anxious and hesitant, offering a handshake before dropping it again, looking around furtively. "Commander T'Varik! This is, um, this is unexpected-"

The Vulcan narrowed her gaze. "I was explicit in my private message that we would meet immediately upon commencement of the tender operations."

"Yes, yes, of course, but um, I thought it would be more private..." She looked over at people who were obviously members of her crew.

"We will of course speak in my office," T'Varik assured her dryly. "With our Ship's Counselor in attendance."

"Yes, yes. But, um... I'm not sure now if I-"

"'Not sure'? Are you now withdrawing the allegations you raised to Starfleet Command regarding Captain Acres?"

Olir's lips pursed, and for 4.376 seconds T'Varik calculated the time required for the younger First Officer to consider her decision, as well as calculating the ultimate outcome. She was proved correct as the Trill finally replied, "No- No, there's something definitely wrong."

"Based on your reports, Admiral Tattok would agree, hence his orders to Captain Hrelle to investigate. In fact, I believe my captain is meeting now with yours, so perhaps we can proceed without further delay?"

*

"Apologies for the mess, Captain," Hrelle offered picking up a few items from the couch and casting them into the corner. "My wife is expecting, and we've been replicating cub's clothes and, um, acting all parental."

"No problem, Captain, and congratulations." Captain Thomas Acres was to Hrelle a shockingly young-looking, tanned human, with rugged blonde features and an Australian accent to his bright voice. "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl, or are you keeping it a surprise?"

"It's a boy; we're calling him Misha. Here, have a seat. Can I get you a drink?"

Acres took a place at the end of the couch. "Some cold water will be fine, thanks."

Hrelle smiled by the replicator. "Nothing stronger?"

"No thanks. I feel guilty as it is, letting my crew do all the work. On the border, we don't stand on ceremony, it's always All Hands on Deck when things need to get done. Not many captains appreciate that."

Hrelle ordered two tall, thin glasses of iced water and carried them to the couch, taking a place on the other side and adjusting his tail to stick out. "Well, having served on the Gorn and the Tholian borders, I can certainly appreciate that mindset, Captain - or can I call you Thomas?"

"Tom, please."

"And I'm Esek." He offered one glass and raised his own in toast. "May All Our Planetfalls Be Scheduled." They drank before Hrelle continued. "I have to say, Tom, your record is most impressive. Commanding a Starfleet vessel at age thirty is remarkable in itself, even taking into account the rapid promotion prospects available on high-risk missions such as Border Patrol."

"Not to mention my pedigree?" Acres added, smiling self-deprecatingly. "Having a father as an Admiral gets people talking about your suitability for a role. But don't worry, I'm sure he only pulled a few strings." He laughed softly.

As did Hrelle. "You also received good remarks from your former commander."

"Oh? Checking up on me, are you?"

Hrelle saw and heard the jocularity - but scented the subtle shift towards suspicion with the younger captain, and responded with what he hoped was a disarming grin. "Old cats like me are insecure when dealing with you young cubs. And fleet tendering the ships on the Cardassian border is a new assignment for me. I wanted to get a sense of what the Captains out here were like." He sipped at his water. "Back in the day when I was performing such duties, we felt more cut off from the rest of Starfleet, more isolated."

"It's still that way," Acres assured him soberly. "We're the first line of defence out here, and with Starfleet's resources stretched with the return of the Romulans and the threat of the Borg, we could be the only line. Fortunately, the Cardassians don't want to start another war."

Hrelle let that hang for a moment, drinking again before asking, "And how do you know this?"

Acres reclined back, resting against the arm of the couch. "You get a measure of them, as you're watching them across the border, gauging their intent. They suffered in the last conflict, far more than they would obviously care to admit. So while they might puff up their chests and boast about conquering the Galaxy, it's all piss and wind."

"That's quite... intuitive, Tom. Most of the strategic specialists in Starfleet Command seem to think that in fact they're gearing towards another offensive, hoping to take advantage of our stretched resources. The reports that Captains Maxwell and Picard filed from the neighbouring sector earlier this year were frankly alarming."

"I can't comment on that," Acres noted, in a tone that suggested what he really thought of it. "I only know the Cardassians here."

Hrelle cradled his glass, before finally setting it down on the adjacent coffee table. "And how well do you know them, Tom?"

The shift in Acres' expression was significant enough, and a layer of hostility papered his pink features as he set down his own glass. "Let's cut out the pleasantries and get to the point, shall we, Captain? You received reports about me from Leni-"

"Who?"

"My First Officer, Commander Leni Olir. She's... very keen to make her mark in Starfleet. We all are out here, of course, but she wants my position, to get her command at age 26 instead of 30. She was a late addition to the crew, and has never really been able to fit in with the rest of us. Also..." He blushed a little. "Our personal relationship has been strained. She's expressed an interest in me, an interest I couldn't return, and when I rejected her advances, I think she took it more personally than she should."

Hrelle shifted in his seat; there was no point in dancing around it anymore. "Tom, your First Officer has sent Starfleet Command some disturbing reports, reports that you have been in frequent contact with a Gul Ersat, who apparently commands a border ship called the Turo. Was she lying?"

Acres smiled. "No. Gul Ersat and I have been communicating."

Hrelle tensed, not expecting such an insouciant response. "And what exactly have you been communicating about?"

"Puzzles."

"Excuse me?"

"About ten weeks ago, Gul Ersat sent a message across the border to us, asking for help to solve a Helico."

"A what?"

"It's a three-dimensional spiral number puzzle, where a given list of numbers have to be fitted in the correct positions to meet the same end-sum figures. Gul Ersat became addicted to them, but was stuck on this particular Helico, and was looking for help."

Hrelle stared, feeling slightly stunned. "And you believed him?"

"You said you've done border patrol duty yourself, Captain. What's the main feature of such duties? The tedium. I do number, word and logic puzzles myself. I had my tactical people go over the Helico he sent us, of course, to make sure there was nothing suspicious behind it. But it was exactly what he said it was. So I helped him solve it - and as a laugh, sent him one of my own I was stuck on." He shrugged. "After that, we ended up exchanging puzzles. You know, something to pass the time."

Hrelle frowned. "You already have something to pass the time, Captain: you're patrolling this border. You were assigned here to protect the Federation from the enemy, not to exchange games with them."

Acres regarded him with... was that derision in his eyes? "'The Enemy'. Once, the Klingons were 'The Enemy'. Before them, it was the Axanar. Before them, the Suliban, and the Daikini-"

"I don't need a history lesson, Captain."

"Why? Are you too old to learn something new?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Acres shrugged. "I've found Starfleet officers of a... certain age tend to get set in their ways regarding former enemies. They can't let go of past hatreds."

Hrelle grunted. "I have no feelings about the Cardassians, I've never even met one. But if we're insulting each other now, I've found Starfleet officers of a certain age tend to think they know better than us old cats, like they're the first ones to have ever had such thoughts and notions that maybe the guy on the other side of the Neutral Zone is more like us than we've been led to think. Believe me, you haven't.

Now, it's admirable to be optimistic about an improvement in our relationship with the Cardassians, but unless and until such an improvement is officially agreed upon between our respective governments, you need to cease any further communications with Gul Ersat. Is that clear?"

Acres stared at him. "Of course, Captain. I apologise if I came across as rude, I'm not accustomed to having my decisions questioned. Out here, you get used to just getting things done."

Hrelle nodded. "I understand. And I have to ask as well: is there anything else I need to know at this point? Anything out of the ordinary?"

The younger man leaned back, eyes narrowing. "No. No, of course not."

Both men looked up as the door slid open and Kami walked in, smiling. "I hope I'm not disturbing you two boys?"

They rose as she approached, Hrelle replying, "No, sweetheart. Captain Acres, I'd like to introduce you to my wife and my Ship's Counselor, Kami. Kami, this is Thomas Acres."

The young man offered a hand. "A pleasure, Ma'am. You're also the Counselor?"

She nodded, accepting it. "It's very economical, though I can't imagine that there'll ever be another ship where the Captain and Counselor are also husband and wife. May I sit?"

Hrelle brought over a chair and helped her into it, while she waved to them. "Sit down again, gentlemen. Captain Acres, I was just interviewing your First Officer. An interesting young woman. Quite driven."

Acres tensed. "Yes, you could say that. She wants my job."

She smiled. "Don't most First Officers?"

A smile he didn't return. "Yes, but they don't usually try to stir up trouble for their COs."

She nodded. "Yes, these reports of hers. The communications with the Cardassians."

"Yes, Captain Acres was telling me that he was exchanging nothing more than puzzles." Hrelle noted. "He also intimated that part of the reason behind her actions against him may be because he rejected her sexual advances."

"Oh," Kami nodded, looking to Acres. "That must have been awkward for you. How did she take it when you turned her down?"

His brow creased in thought. "At first I thought she took it well. But then her general attitude towards me cooled, barely speaking to me even on an official basis. I tried to make overtures to her, for the sake of the crew, but..." He shrugged.

She smiled sympathetically. "I understand, Captain. We have a saying back home about such situations." She looked to her husband, and speaking in Old Caitian, not accessible by most Universal Translators, informed him, "He's lying about her. She's afraid of him."

Oblivious, Acres smiled. "I didn't catch that."

Hrelle smiled back at him, controlling his reaction. "Sorry, Captain, it's difficult to translate. The gist of it is it's best to avoid shipboard relationships - my own with my wife being an obvious exception, of course."

And then Kami, regarding the visitor as well, asked, "Captain Acres, I would very much like to talk with you. I know that border patrol vessels don't have fully-qualified Counselors, despite the recommendations that have been made by Starfleet Medical, and I'm sure you'd find it a healthy exercise-"

Hrelle could see the young man tense, before slipping on a fake smile and interrupting her with, "Thank you, Counselor, but I don't need to talk to anyone. I'm perfectly well-balanced."

"Then why do you leave the ship in a shuttle for several hours at a time? That seems-"

She stopped as Hrelle raised a hand, looking to her. "Excuse me, Counselor. What do you mean, 'leave the ship'?"

Kami kept studying Acres. "According to Commander Olir, Captain Acres has made several trips in the direction of the Arkady Cluster in one of the Tempest's shuttles. He goes alone, does not maintain contact, and returns several hours later."

Hrelle straightened up further, focusing on the other captain again. "Is this true? How long has this been going on?"

Acres looked bemused at his reaction. "Just the last two or three weeks."

"And how often have you done this?"

The young man shrugged. "Four or five times, when we're not too busy and the need arises."

"The need for what?"

"For some peace and quiet, away from the responsibilities of the mission, if only for a couple of hours! You of all people should understand the burdens of command, Hrelle! We don't have fancy Holodecks or Rec Rooms on the Tempest like you have here! It's all basic... and the ship can feel tiny sometimes, crowded like you wouldn't believe! I... I go out to Arkady, shut down the engines and power and just... unwind."

Hrelle stared with incredulity. "Captain Acres, I gave you the opportunity before to tell me if there was anything else out of the ordinary I should know about. Leaving your ship on unauthorised trips, for whatever reason, would certainly count as that."

Acres met his incredulity with defiance. "You might want to read suspicion into everything I do, Captain; that's your choice. That doesn't make it, or you, right."

"No, it doesn't," Kami agreed, ignoring the reaction from her husband. "Tell you what, why don't you come along with me for that talk, then perhaps my husband can speak with your First Officer and straighten this matter out once and for all?" She smiled charmingly now. "You don't have to be afraid of me, I won't bite, despite the teeth."

Despite himself, Acres seemed to relax in response to her charms, and relented. "Fine. Let's just get it done."

"My thoughts exactly."

Hrelle continued to stare hard at the visitor. "Captain Acres, I'll be wanting to see copies of the transmissions exchanged between you and Gul Ersat, as well as the flight logs of whatever shuttles you used for solo trips."

Acres frowned. "Why?"

"To reassure this officer of a certain age that there's nothing to be suspicious about. Is that going to be a problem?"

After a moment, he nodded. "No. No, of course not, Captain. I can tend to it later."

Kami started to help herself out of her seat, Hrelle jumping up to assist her, as he suggested in Old Caitian, "I don't want you alone with him."

Kami smirked, replying back in the same tongue, "I think I can handle myself, Esek."

"Did you think that was a suggestion?"

She grunted. "Big Growling Male. Will you feel better if Eydiir was with me?"

"Yes."

Kami made a sound of acknowledgement, before looking to Acres again. "Forgive us, Thomas, but my husband is overly protective of me in my current state, always worrying that I'm overtaxing myself, not sleeping or eating right. You'd think he was having the cub." She slipped an arm around his as they walked out. "Do you mind if one of my more gifted Medical cadets sits in with us? Being a training vessel we try to give the cubs an opportunity to-"

Hrelle watched the doors slide shut, still catching the tail end of the conversation until it went out of range, and then tapped his combadge. "Hrelle to T'Varik: bring Commander Olir to my Ready Room immediately."

*

Mess Hall:

Neraxis picked at her Klingon curry with uncharacteristic reluctance. "He's gonna be okay, isn't he? Maybe we should go see him?"

"We? No." Sasha Hrelle stabbed a penne with her fork, raising it and pointing the sauce-slathered pasta in her friend's direction. "And neither will you. Dr Ling has practically banned all of us from Sickbay after all the times we've been visiting following one of your makeout sessions with Jonas. And if you show up, you might end up on the receiving end of a lecture yourself about your sexual shenanigans."

Neraxis blushed, her normal cobalt-blue skin darkening to a soft violet. "Holy Hraxor, I never tease you about your times with Giles."

Across from the Bolian, Kitirik was flicking honey-coated crickets up from his bowl and into the air, catching them in mid-arc with his long, thin, salmon-pink tongue. Now, however, he let the latest bug drop back into the bowl to respond. "Good Friend Neraxis, just this morning you were noting that Good Friend Sasha's thighs hadn't been together since Christmas. Was that not a reference to her prolific sexual activity with Good Friend Giles as I initially suspected, or did it refer to a non-related medical condition?"

Sasha eyeballed Neraxis. "Yes, Cadet Whose Latest Conduct Review I'm Working On This Week: which is it?"

Neraxis' bald head creased under the scrutiny, before she looked to their Flight Ops Specialist Meow Rrori. "Hey Furball, you haven't told us about your evening with Reyii Igavo! Was being with a Betazoid everything you thought it would be, huh? Come on, let's have all the gory details!"

The white-furred Caitian looked up at her, obviously recognising the attempt at changing the subject, but still complied, "Rather disappointing, actually. It turns out that Betazoids in fact rarely use their telepathy, except among close family members and in private. She was quite aghast at my suggestion that she read my mind."

Kit nodded, a cricket quickly disappearing down his reptilian mouth as he noted, "Many telepathic societies such as Betazoids, Vulcans and Melkotians employ elaborate restrictions on the casual use of their abilities, to maintain societal cohesion."

"So, did you manage to convince her to lower her shields as well as her pants?" Sasha joked.

"Yes," he admitted reluctantly. "Well, her shields, anyway."

"And?" Neraxis prompted, grinning.

"She... read my mind and decided that we were incompatible. Apparently, she considers me... sex-obsessed."