Surefoot 23: Baby Steps

Stardate 47544.94

USS Surefoot-A, Deck 2 Fore, Command Quarters -- 0700 Hours:

Captain Esek Hrelle woke up beside his son, sensing the infant's active state. He drew in a little closer, rubbing the side of his muzzle against Misha's, making him purr. Hrelle grinned and rubbed Misha's tummy, making him gurgle.

Opposite Misha, Kami stirred enough from her own sleep to say, "Get him up and feed him, ass. I want another hour."

"Sorry," he murmured, smiling, lifting up the cub and taking him into the next room, obtaining the bottle from the storage unit and sitting down behind his desk to feed Misha in his arms while he checked his messages and ship updates, smiling at the one from his old friend and fellow captain Weynik of the Starsong, who was promising to beam over gifts for the cub on their next encounter.

Then his attention turned to the overnight change in their course back towards the Bajoran Sector, towards the Tavela Minor system, courtesy of orders from... Admiral Oscar Wayne? Hrelle thought that old guy had retired, but no doubt the recent changes in the Galaxy have prompted more than a few men and women his age to slip back into the uniform.

In his arms, Misha grumbled, and Hrelle lifted him up onto his shoulder to burp him, before setting him down on an adjacent mat to change him. "Okay, my little Warrior Prince, let's see what you've got for Papa this morning-" He wrinkled his nose at the contents of the diaper. "Ooh yes, another bundle of toxic delights. You shouldn't have, my son. Truly."

Misha smiled up at him.

After changing and dressing him, Hrelle clad himself in workout clothes and reviewed his schedule for the day, Misha secured in his own little seat beside him, his father occasionally lifting up a vial from a specially prepared kit, uncorking it and bringing it near Misha. "Vanilla. Va-nill-la." He repeated it with the scents of grapefruit, cinnamon, Denebian pine, pumpkin, Caitian peppermint, burning coal, shuris musk, and others, naming them all, watching his reaction to each -- he liked cinnamon best, it seemed, and Tiburian rat the least.

Hrelle smiled. A million, million scents out there for his son to discover. It would be a grand adventure for him. And for his Papa as he accompanied him.

*

Deck 3 Fore, Gym -- 0742 Hours:

Misha sat in his chair and laughed as he watched Hrelle struggle with another sit up, while closer, C'Rash managed another set in the interim, encouraging her uncle and Commanding Officer in her own unique way. "Come on, Fat Cat, you don't want to let your son down while he's watching, do you? You'll scar him for life." As she glanced at the infant, she blew a raspberry that delighted him.

Hrelle grunted. "You're- You're- You're demoted-"

She made a show of doubling her speed. "Don't you think it's punishment enough to smell your farts these exercises are producing? And think of your poor cub..." Then she paused and asked, "Unless you need to stop because of your heart?"

He growled between grunts. "I thought- we said- you weren't going- to talk about- that?" His breath quickened. "I- I can- outlast you- you-you f-fu-"

"Language," she scolded him, winking at Misha.

*

Deck 2 Fore, Officer's Mess -- 0826 Hours:

Misha screwed up his nose at the taste of grapefruit juice on Hrelle's finger, making his father chuckle. "You think that's bad, think about having to actually eat one of these." He held up his own breakfast in illustration. "You want some now?"

Misha tried to blow a raspberry of his own, to his father's sheer delight.

"Don't you dare give my brother any of that," warned an approaching voice. Ensign Sasha Hrelle and several other cadet squad leaders came up to the table with their breakfast trays. Sasha sat down beside her father, leaning in to the infant, touching his nose and going, "Beep Beep!" Then she spared a look at Hrelle's breakfast. "Is Papa Cat giving you his awful food instead of eating it himself like he should?"

Hrelle grunted as he tucked back into his grapefruit and lime syrup, ignoring the appetising scents of bacon and pancakes from Sasha's tray. "It's not that bad, actually. Healthy."

Sasha put a deliberately-generous portion of her own food on her fork and waved it in his direction. "Well, it's nice to see men of your very advanced years making an effort to take care of themselves." She forced the contents into her mouth, somehow managing to add, "Really, keep it up."

He grunted again -- dabbing a forefinger into the lime syrup and giving Misha a suckle; he liked that better. "And do the rest of you Squad Leaders want to risk Extra Duty making fun of your Commanding Officer?"

"It would seem counterproductive, Captain," Ensign Falok observed, stopping and regarding the infant, who gurgled, prompting the young Vulcan male to reply, "No, I am not your godmother, though our scent and pointed ears are similar."

Sasha swallowed quickly, eyes wide. "Wait, do you understand him?"

Falok sat down beside her. "The basic meaning behind his vocal inflections can be discerned -- with the superior hearing of a Caitian or Vulcan, that is." To Hrelle he added, "Sir, if the grapefruit is displeasing, may I suggest Vulcan gespar for your next breakfast? They contain fewer calories than Terran grapefruit but are considerably sweeter."

Hrelle nodded. "I'll give it a try, Ensign, thanks! It's nice to see there are some decent young people onboard."

Sasha blew a raspberry. Misha tried as well.

"No respect from either of my children... are all of you ready for the meeting?"

Delta Squad Leader Naavos Bal sat beside Falok, the Bajoran's tray sporting kava rolls and a raktajino, whose scents made Misha twist about in his chair to investigate further. "I have to admit I'm a little daunted by what Commander T'Varik will tell us, Sir."

Hrelle scooped up another spoonful of grapefruit, wishing he had ordered his with extra syrup. "It's not what she tells you, but what you should bring with you into the meeting."

"And what's that, Sir?"

"Nothing. So many cadets have gone in with such high expectations about what they can request for their first post-grad assignment, only to be shot down like a drone on the target range-" He scowled at Sasha, who was bringing a syrup-coated piece of crispy bacon to Misha, who had happily clamped onto it with his tiny little pin teeth and growled, triggering a game of tug of war. "Hey! He's not ready for solids!"

She chuckled. "Relax, Fat Cat, he can't eat it, it's too-" Then she started as he bit through the piece and began swallowing.

Swiftly Hrelle reached out, gently but firmly opening Misha's mouth and removing the piece, before glaring at the girl. "If his mother finds out-"

"But you won't tell," she countered, batting her eyes and pouting her lips as she produced a childish voice. "Will you, Daddy? Pwease?"

Before Hrelle could respond, his combadge chirped. "Captain, Admiral Tattok is on a subspace channel for your weekly briefing, and then you are scheduled to speak with Admiral Wayne."

He tapped his badge. "I'm on my way to my Ready Room, Neheru, patch Tattok through when I'm there. Hrelle out." To Sasha he added, "I won't tell Kami, if you take your brother to his godmother. It's her turn."

"T'Varik? But she's holding the cadets' meeting, she can't mind him."

"He's due for his first nap. I'm sure she's capable of minding a sleeping cub and instructing all you other cubs on your futures." He rose, but paused and sniffed. "He needs changing."

She frowned. "He does?"

Hrelle shrugged, as he lifted up his tray to take back to the replicator unit for disposal. "Well, someone at the table does. I'm just assuming it's him."

*

Deck 3 Fore, Instruction Room -- 0848 Hours:

The Vulcan stood before the assembled cadets, as a collage of various Starfleet vessels and mission statements flashed on displays behind her. "There are currently 10,191 Starfleet vessels, space- and planet-based facilities, installations and outposts throughout the Alpha Quadrant and extending into parts of the Beta and Gamma Quadrant. You can, theoretically, be posted to any of them, depending upon need, qualification, and the discretion of the local commanding officer.

However, you are permitted to complete a Preferred Assignments List -- otherwise known as a list of your 'Dream Posts'. As the needs of the Service must take precedent, your preferences are not guaranteed, but I can assure you that they are considered."

Nearby, Misha, nestled in his chair, made a mewling sound in his sleep.

This prompted titters among the cadets, and a raised eyebrow from T'Varik as she continued. "For those who will not be furthering their education through obtaining Medical, Engineering or Science degrees, this is your opportunity to choose the direction and pace of your future career.

This talk is designed to submit a measure of practicality towards that opportunity.

In any typical collection of cadets, I never fail to see a large number requesting postings on the Enterprise, the Lexington, the Venture, Starbase 1, Starfleet Headquarters, and others... for the most part, these requests are a waste of time. The demand for positions in these areas are permanently high, and even among more talented cadets such as yourselves, the odds of acceptance remain substantial."

Misha woke up and made a noise.

T'Varik proceeded. "I know of at least a few of you with designs to achieve command of a starship before the age of thirty-five. While ambition is laudable, one must temper it with reality; one must learn to walk before they can run. And you must clearly define for yourself your purpose for being in Starfleet."

"Our purpose, Commander?" one of the cadets asked.

"Your reasons for putting on these uniforms will be as varied as your individual stories, and will be a mix of both selfless and selfish. This is perfectly acceptable, but regardless of your ultimate posting, there is a truth that must be-"

Misha began crying.

T'Varik turned to him and approached. "He needs changing."

"He can't!" Sasha, standing in the front row, objected. "I changed him before we came in here! It was horrendous!"

"Your brother is apparently a most productive offspring." Quickly and efficiently T'Varik set out the changing mat on the table where Misha's chair sat, unbuckled the infant and carefully lifted him up. "All of you: come closer. Master Misha is about to assist me in demonstrating an important point."

The cadets approached and surrounded, Sasha staying protectively the closest as she watched the Vulcan undo the snaps on Misha's diaper and warning, "Careful, he should be declared a biohazard."

"I have changed your brother before, Ensign." As she undid the diaper and reached for the cleaning materials, some of the cadets made groaning sounds at the smell, prompting their First Officer to remark dryly, "Similar reactions were no doubt made about all of your excretions at this age."

"Not me," Neraxis Nemm quipped, her bald blue Bolian head widening with her proud grin. "None of my parents could speak for hours afterwards when they changed me."

As she proceeded to clean the infant, T'Varik retained her instructional tone, but kept her eyes fixed on the infant in her temporary care. "Regardless of your particular posting, your career in Starfleet will be much like caring for an infant: the majority of your time will be spent in mundane, unglamorous, even at times disagreeable tasks. Contrary to popular fiction, each week will not be spent exploring strange new worlds, seeking out new life and new civilisations, or saving the Galaxy."

She bundled the dirty diaper and stored it in a recycling container, before cleaning the affected areas on Misha's furred body. "But this does not mean that your work will not be required, essential... even vital. I will not earn commendations for this duty." She leaned in closer, pausing to stroke the longer fur on the infant's head, making him purr. "But I will earn the relief, gratitude... and love... from this very young person dependent upon me. In the quest for accolades and a place in the history books, one must not overlook the quieter moments of satisfaction one can attain."

Then Misha squirted her.

The cadets laughed as she covered him with a cloth to catch the rest of the flow.

"I think Little Brother just told you to piss off," Sasha quipped.

"At his age," T'Varik noted, dabbing the stains on her uniform. "He can hardly be expected to have bladder control." But she regarded the sly smile on Misha's face now. "However, I suspect a sense of humour appropriate for the son of the Captain is already developing in him."

*

Deck 2 Fore, Ready Room -- 0910 Hours:

Misha lay snoring in his seat near his father, as Captain Hrelle leaned back and steepled his fingers onto his belly, listening to the man on the screen, an elderly, snow-faced human with a neatly-trimmed beard and icy blue eyes. "The asteroid is 325 kilometres in diameter, and rich in iron, nickel -- and, this is crucial, deuridium. It was discovered 16 months ago by the Dytallix Mining Company, who fitted a series of low-warp impellers to drive it to those who purchased it, the Kobliad. Are you familiar with them, Captain?"

"I'm afraid not, Admiral."

"They're a humanoid species -- and they're dying, due to genetic damage caused by the long-term effects of pollution. They need deuridium to stabilise their cell structures. They need this asteroid."

"So the Dytallix people are delivering it to them?"

"That was the plan. The engines were installed and programmed to deliver it to the Kobliad system. It was due to arrive four months from now... but it's just been discovered wildly off-course, and headed towards Tavela Minor; it will collide with the planet in eight months' time. I want you to intercept it, determine the reason for its deviation, and get it back on course and to Kobliad on schedule."

Hrelle frowned, looking to an equally bemused T'Varik, who spoke up. "Admiral, according to the data sent to us, the asteroid is 42 light years off-course. The impellers manage a maximum of only Warp 1.6; even assuming an immediate course re-correction, it would still take approximately 90 months."

Wayne's mouth twisted into a gurn. "That's not good enough, Commander. I want it there in four, or better. Find a way."

At Hrelle's feet, Misha woke up and started crying. His father bent down, unbuckled him and lifted him up into his arms and comforted him, before facing the viewscreen again. "Admiral Wayne, we've not even determined what's gone wrong in the first place, why the impeller's systems didn't alert to the course deviation-"

"Captain," Wayne cut in. "In my day, we didn't make excuses. We made miracles. The Kobliad need that asteroid for their survival."

"I'm aware of that, Admiral, but there are practical limitations to-"

"Captain... if you and your First Officer are typical of your generation, then it's for the best that I came out of retirement to show you how it's done. I'll be in touch again in eight hours to hear your plan." He leaned in closer to the screen and frowned. "And I don't expect to see an infant attending an official meeting again, is that clear, Hrelle? This is a Starfleet vessel, not a crèche. Admiral Wayne out."

The screen went blank. Misha tried for another raspberry.

Hrelle patted his son on the rear, stroking his tail as he looked at T'Varik again. "What's our ETA with the asteroid?"

"2.3 hours at Warp 6."

"Take us up to Warp 9; I have a feeling our Strategic Engineering Officer is going to need all the time he can get to deliver a miracle rather than an excuse." He lifted up Misha and rubbed his muzzle against him. "While I take my Warrior Prince to be with his Mama for a while."

*

Deck 3 Mid, Counselor's Office -- 1036 Hours:

Kami chuckled as she breathed in her son's scent for the thousandth time. "And have you been a good boy for everyone? What am I saying? Of course you have! You are an absolute delight, and anyone who says differently will be gutted and flung into space with the rest of the trash!" She looked up at the girl sitting opposite her and amended, "Maybe."

Sasha was leaning back in the chair, grinning. "If anyone says anything bad about him, I'll hold the trash door open for you." She reached up, touching her cheeks. "Sometimes it hurts, holding him, and smiling so much with how wonderful he is." Then her smile dropped. "Do you... do you get worried for him, being out here? Space isn't exactly safe."

"I know." She tilted her head as Misha grabbed a stubby fistful of hair and tugged. "But really, no place is completely safe. Admittedly, though, if we had a planetbound assignment on, say, Cait, we'd be less likely to run into something like, say, a Nekrosi space mine."

Sasha's expression sobered completely, and she affected a sigh of mild exasperation. "This again?"

"Yes, this again. Sasha, you died. You died and you were brought back to life. Something like that will force you to re-evaluate the direction your life has taken."

Sasha brought her hands together, rubbing them absently. "There's no re-evaluation. I wanted to be in Starfleet before that; I still want to be in Starfleet after it."

"You're still planning on breaking up with Giles?"

Sasha blinked. "Yes. But my reasons were there before the Nekrosi incident. You and I have discussed it already, I've just been putting it off for too long."

Kami nodded. "And you've changed your Preferred Assignments List. You were going to Advanced Command Training at the Academy Annex on Vulcan. Now... you want to come back here."

Sasha smiled. "Sure. Why not? Do you think I can't learn more from someone like him than some instructor who's never even commanded a starship?"

"The ACT Program is run by former and current starship Captains of some renown and experience; as amazing and talented as we both know your father is, he would be the first to agree that you could learn a whole lot more from the Program. And certainly T'Varik would second that; she was ready to support your application to it."

Kami paused to adjust Misha's position in her arms, as he had begun to chew on her hair. "But I have to wonder if your decision to want to come back here is entirely due to the desire to learn more from your father... or the fear of going out alone, to risk being hurt or killed without him around to pull you back."

"I'm not afraid," Sasha declared simply. "I'm twenty years old! I don't need my Daddy to protect me anymore!"

Kami stared for a moment, before continuing. "Sasha, sweetheart.... You had a near-death experience. It's perfectly natural to react-"

"Excuse me, Counselor... but I didn't have a near-death experience. I had a death experience. That's all. And if it did affect me, don't you think it would have made me reckless, even dangerously so?"

"Not necessarily. People react to trauma in different ways-"

"Or maybe not at all. It's like T'Varik said today, it's best to be realistic, and not to try to run before I walk. I can stay onboard for a few years, work with my Dad, learn from him."

Kami nodded neutrally, idly stroking the fur on Misha's head. "That's assuming your father will let you return."

Sasha stared back for a moment, before rising to her feet, leaning down and saying softly, "We both know him. Can you really see him sending me away?" She smiled at Misha and touched his nose. "Beep Beep!"

Then she departed to his laughter.

Kami lifted Misha up to face him. "Your Big Sister is swimming in De Nile." She leaned in and explained, "That's a river on Earth, and a bad pun. And speaking of swimming, let's get you bathed."

Misha blew a raspberry.

Kami assumed it was a coincidence.