Surefoot 24: Snakes on a Starship

"Assuming she hasn't buried them into Hrulish's hind quarters," Bneea joked.

Mention of the name elicited a groan from Ptera. "And once again I must apologise for him. He's... very traditional. He doesn't mean to be... well..."

"A pompous kussik?" Mi'Tree suggested.

"Papa!" Kami scolded. "He's her uncle!"

"No," the other female disagreed. "He's right. My uncle is a pompous kussik. I told him to be nice to Sasha while we were here and keep quiet about his opinions on humans, but he can't help himself."

Mi'Tree pointed his injured finger in her direction as his voice rose with righteous indignation. "Yes, well, our Sasha's just as good as any Caitian as far as the Shall Clan is concerned! So he damn well better start helping himself, or he'll have to answer to me!"

Still on Bneea's lap, Misha began to mewl at the raised voice. Kami gathered up the infant and started rocking him as she gave her father a sour expression and a measured voice. "This isn't the occasion for one of your heroic speeches from the vivids, Papa. And you do not have to apologise for your uncle's attitude, Ptera. And as for the rest of us: Sasha does not need anyone's help to defend her place in our clan."

*

Deck 3 Fore -- Training Room:

Sasha took the Ready Stance on the mat before the automated training module, making the appropriate flinches in her hands: come on, you've got an audience, even if it is just an audience of one this late at night-

Then she felt the reaction in the gauntlets, as the memory metal in the fingertips automatically curled up and formed into centimetre-long tritanium curved claws.

She struck out against the module, dodging the preprogrammed blows its arms shot out at her, as she ducked and dived, striking back, the claws raking against the black metal surface, causing sparks.

Finally she drew back, the module automatically stopping as well, as she looked to her friend. "Well? What do you think?"

On an adjacent mat, practising with a pair of short Capellan swords against her own module, Eydiir Daughter-of-Kaas straightened up and lowered her weapons as she regarded the effects of the gauntlets. "I prefer to keep the enemy at a reasonable distance."

"Ya wanna try them?"

"No. What if I was scratching my rear end while I was wearing them and accidentally popped out the claws?"

"Then you'd probably end up brain damaged," Sasha retorted, offering a raised middle finger before marvelling at the engineering behind the gauntlets. "Now I can move up to Tier Six in K'Gressir, and not feel like- well, like-"

"Like a fraud?" a new voice prompted.

Both young women turned at the new arrival to the gym: a handsome Caitian male in his mid-forties, slate-furred and clad in a smart black civilian suit, his tail swishing lazily behind him as his snout twitched at the ambient scents in the room. He spoke with the crisp polished Northeastern accent he shared with Ptera -- but garnished with extra privilege and arrogance. "Was that what you were going to say, Ms Hrelle?"

Sasha straightened up, controlling herself as best she could. "No, Sir. I was going to say 'Not feel like I'm going to have my ass handed to me if I face a Caitian opponent at Tier Six, when they use their claws'."

Hrulish tucked his hands into his pockets and chuckled. "If that's such a fear for you, maybe you shouldn't be playing around."

"I'm not playing, Mr Hrulish. And I don't back down easily."

He nodded at that. "How intrepid. Or short-sighted. After all, K'Gressir is a Caitian martial art. And Caitians have greater strength, speed, stamina, agility, reflexes-"

"Humility," Eydiir added.

The Caitian ignored the comment, pretending to be interested in the exercise and training equipment. "Quite a ship you have here. My clan's company manufactures the spaceframes for many Caitian vessels of similar size, so I can appreciate the design and innovation on display here." He looked at Sasha again. "I don't want you to think that I can't acknowledge the inestimable gifts of humanity, young lady."

Sasha crossed her arms over her chest -- careful not to accidentally extend the glove's claws, after hearing Eydiir's warning -- and stared back. The male had been snide and barely polite with Sasha ever since he arrived with the others, but she maintained the high ground and didn't give into his remarks. Still, she wasn't going to just roll over and take it like a Ferasan. "No. You just don't like the idea that a human might embrace Caitian culture."

Hrulish smirked again. "Please understand, I don't blame you, young lady. You certainly haven't made a deliberate effort like some humans your age might do, seeing our culture as exotic or fashionable. It's the fault of your upbringing, the influence of your stepfather, and the members of the Shall Clan."

Then he drew closer, affecting an air of someone genuinely trying to assist another in seeing the light of his wisdom. "But, speaking as an impartial observer, who is more interested in maintaining the purity of his culture than in sparing your feelings, let me tell you this: it's one thing to learn a few words of Old Caitian, or take a couple of lessons in K'Gressir -- or even be included in the Clan Registry and gain citizenship of my world. But you need more than that to be Caitian. You need to feel the Fire. The Fury. The Heart of the Great Mother inside you."

She steeled her expression challengingly at him. "You think I can't?"

He smiled condescendingly. "I think you think you can. Have you been in battle? I mean genuine hand to hand combat, grappling with a foe you must kill, before they kill you?"

"Sure," she began -- but then amended, "I've- I've never had to kill-"

Hrulish nodded. "Well, as a decorated veteran of the last war with the Ferasans... I have. Many times. And when you're locked in a fight to the death, feeling the hot breath of your opponent on your face, your teeth and fangs clawing away at them as they do the same to you... a Caitian feels the Great Mother inside them, fuelling them, guiding and shielding them. A true child of the Mother... a true Caitian... understands this." He glanced towards the doorway. "I heard that there was an Arboretum on this deck. Can you point me in the right direction, please?"

Numbed by his words, Sasha nodded at the exit. "Head out, go left, around the wide corridor, three doors down, it's marked."

He smiled genially. "Thanks, Ms Hrelle. Have fun."

As he departed, Eydiir set down her swords. "Your relative is a prattling, fen-sucked fool."

"He's not technically a relative, as I understand it. When Mirow married Ptera, he joined the Mroara-Lnee Clan, though Mirow remains my kin-brother, and Ptera my bond-sister."

"Hmph. Well, whatever he is to you, his words are hollow."

"Hollow?"

The Capellan nodded. "I do not believe his boasts. He reminds me of Giles in the early days-" Then she stopped and looked guilty. "Forgive me, I did not mean to bring him up."

But Sasha shrugged. "Hey, it's no big deal, we're still speaking to each other, I'm not lying in my bed crying myself to sleep each night over our break-up. Especially considering I was the one who initiated it." She removed her gauntlets. "I need a shower; unlike Caitians -- whom I will apparently never be like -- I sweat like a pig."

*

Deck 5 Fore -- Cargo Bay 5:

The room was locked, quiet, dark and cool. When it had been that way for a particular amount of time, a hidden sensor on one of the stasis crates activated, reviving the occupants, tightly packed within. They uncoiled and emerged, weapons drawn, slithering around and examining the interior of the bay, before moving to the other crates, reviving their occupants. They emerged too, with more weapons, and equipment. And a plan.

*

Deck 3 Fore -- Sickbay Suite:

As the last of the crew of the Nagaina was being examined, Doctor Ling passed a sensor wand over the forearm of Captain Koulev, frowning. "Are you sure you're injured, Captain? I'm not detecting any damage with your hand."

The man stared at her intently, keeping his voice low from the rest of the occupants of the Suite. "Actually, Doctor, I think it might be a reoccurrence of... Janus Syndrome."

Ling paled at the mention of the condition, nearly dropping her instrument, her face tightening and her heart racing.

Koulev continued staring hard at her. "Perhaps we can discuss it further in your office?"

She nodded numbly, guiding him to the room and closing and locking the door, before stepping back from him. "You're with-"

"The Bel-Zon?" Koulev nodded. "Just like you."

"I'm not with them."

He smirked. "You take their money. You do their bidding. You're with them. Now me, consider me Middle Management in the organisation."

Her hands clenched into fists. "The attack on your ship-"

"A ruse, to get the crates onboard safely. They should be out and about from them by now."

"Who should?"

He smiled. "The Vlathi."

Ling felt like her heart jumped into her throat. "The Vlathi? Why the hell are they onboard?"

"Why do you think? After Captain Hrelle's recent activities on Skaros, our employers have decided to finally finish him off... and using the Vlathi will point the finger at the Skarosians rather than at the Bel-Zon."

Ling fought to control her breathing, as she moved to a bottle of Saurian brandy on a shelf behind her desk, pouring out a generous helping for herself. "How many of them are onboard?"

"A dozen. They will be emerging by now, taking over Auxiliary Control, locking the off-duty personnel in their quarters, restricting movement and setting up a dampening field generator to neutralise phaser, sensor, communications and transporter use. Did you manage to secretly implant any of the Caitians with tracers as ordered?"

Ling bristled. "Yes, the Counselor's infant; the tracer's on Local Subspace Frequency 47. But that's no guarantee that Hrelle will be nearby him."

"Doesn't matter. Their orders are to kill all the Caitians they find."

"All?" Ling turned back to him. "Including Misha? Why do they have to kill him? He's a baby, for Pity's sake! What could he have done to deserve that?"

Koulev regarded her curiously. "An inconvenient time to grow a conscience, Doctor; just be thankful you haven't been ordered to do the job yourself. The Vlathi will move out, they'll do the deed while my crew commandeers the Shuttlebay, and then we'll steal a couple of the warp shuttles and rendezvous with a Skarosian vessel."

"There's more Caitians than you might be aware of; they have family visiting."

Koulev shrugged. "It won't matter. The Vlathi will have big appetites after being in stasis."

She emptied her glass, and poured herself another. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Consider it a courtesy call. The Bel-Zon have been most pleased with the reports you've sent them since signing up with Hrelle's crew. And obviously, after the Vlathi have made a snack of him and his brood, you'll be reassigned elsewhere, to continue your services in a similar fashion."

She glared at him, shaking her head. "Forget it. I'm done with them."

Koulev stepped forward, his face a taut, confident mask. "Doctor... you're done when the Bel-Zon say you're done." He smiled. "Just keep your eyes on the monies accumulating in that Orion account when you finally retire. No modest living for you with the rest of the Contented Masses."

"I didn't do it to live well. I had- I had issues-"

"I'm not interested in your backstory, Doctor. Just your compliance." He left her at that.

Ling finished her second glass, welcoming the rush but wishing it did more... like numb her to the predicament she'd found herself in- no, put herself in.

She resisted the urge to indulge in a third glass, sat down at her computer and quickly began researching the Vlathi, identifying the nature of their attacks... and ordering from the replicators the treatments she expected she would need, hoping she would have time and opportunity to implement them. Or better yet, that something would happen to not make it necessary.

*

Deck 5 Fore:

Two of the Vlathi completed the connections between their generator and a power conduit in the wall near the door. At a nod from their leader, they activated it. The displays indicated success.

Nearby, in Auxiliary Control, others completed the overrides, successfully seizing control of the ship -- without the crew on the Bridge even being aware of it.

They redirected the ship towards the Skarosian system, and initiated Lockdown.

*

Deck 2 Fore -- Bridge:

Neheru was sitting in the Command Chair, having taken over the Midnight Shift with Delta Squad manning the stations, when Squad Leader Isabelle Zhou, standing at Ops behind him, asked, "Did you feel that?"

The Kelpien looked behind him at her. "Feel what?"

"We altered course."

Neheru blinked, then turned forward again towards the Helm. "Mr Utrecht?"

The young cadet moved his fingers over the controls before him. "We're still on course for Deep Space Five, Lieutenant."

"No," the Englishwoman insisted. "We shifted! I've grown up on starships all my life, I know what I'm talking about, Sir!"

Neheru regarded her for a moment, before tapping his combadge. "Bridge to Engineering." He frowned at the lack of response. "Cadet Guforg, check Communications. We may have suffered damage from our engagement with the Nausicaans tonight."

The Tellarite female's hooves moved anxiously across her station panel. "I can't reach Engineering, Sir! But the Board shows All Clear!"

Neheru rose, strode around and moved to the Bridge doors -- stopping when they failed to respond. He tried the Manual release, finding it inoperable.

"Sir?" Zhou prompted.

He took a moment, to control his rising anxiety, before finally responding, not just to her, but to the rest of them, trying to exude confidence, the way Captain Hrelle did. "Stay calm, all of you. This may simply be a malfunction that is currently being repaired even as we speak. However, I am concerned at our lack of control, communication and access. Cadet Guforg, retrieve the Emergency Engineering Kit from under your station and work on opening the door. Mr Zajan, there is a possible access to the Jefferies tube behind the Secondary Science station-"

"There is?" the Suliban male exclaimed. "Are you sure, Sir?"

"I was present in the construction of this vessel, Cadet, so I can safely say Yes. You will need to dismantle the isolinear interface panels to get to it, but the panels are modular in design and you should not need tools, but take your time and be careful. The rest of you: stay at your posts. Should control resume, I'd rather we're not caught off-guard if we find ourselves flying into a star." At their expressions, he elaborated, "Just a joke."

*

Deck 2 Mid -- Officers Mess Hall:

Hrelle had already been pleased that members of his clan, and those from the clan that had taken in Kami's firstborn Mirow, had come to visit, to bond with Misha and bring gifts for Kami and Sasha. But when he heard they had also brought some fresh, non-replicated food with them to have a real Clan Feast, well, he had almost advanced-ordered some uniforms in larger sizes from the fabricator, to accommodate what he intended to consume tonight.

As it happened, however, he proved more restained, selecting only a little of everything from the spread Mi'Tree and Bneea had cooked and provided. And though he always believed it a myth that replicated food was never as good as the real thing... he now had to reconsider that notion.

And it was a delight to see Misha, now on solid foods to a limited degree, trying out Noso Beans and nibbling on shuris skin cracklings, greedily devouring those items he liked, and blowing raspberries at those he didn't.

The infant now sat on Ptera's lap, the young female surgeon giving off the broody scent, and making Hrelle wonder when she and Mirow might start planning their own. "Where's C'Rash? She should be in here, tucking into this fine fresh food and keeping Mirow from hogging all the pies."

Across from her, her husband raised his head from his plate to ask, with stuffed cheeks, "What?"

At the end of the table near her fathers, Kami replied, "She's spending the evening with Commander T'Varik."

"Tucking into something else," Hrelle quipped, pretending not to see his wife's disapproving eye at his remark.

"She seems a strange choice for our niece," Mi'Tree noted, reaching across to wipe some bean sauce from Misha's muzzle. "Don't Vulcans only rut once every seven years?"

"No," Kami corrected. "They have an unignorable biological urge to do so every seven years, but they can have sexual urges at any time." She pointed a finger at Hrelle. "And you should be showing more respect to your First Officer."

Hrelle blinked. "I am! And I'm glad that she's finally stopped working her tight little toches off and started enjoying herself. With C'Rash's hot and eager help."

"And how do you know her toches is tight and little?" Kami teased.

"Um... it's logical?"

Then the computer piped up. "Captain Hrelle, please report to Main Engineering."

Hrelle rose. "Duty calls." He leaned in and rubbed the side of his muzzle against Kami's and Misha's, and then picked up his bottle of Farshnosh. "Don't overfeed him, he's got his father's fat genes to fight against."

As he departed, Ma'Sala, sitting at the end of the table with a pile of barbecued shuris ribs in front of her, grunted. "Kami..."

Her daughter looked up. "Mama?"

"Your husband's a good Captain. Very good. See if he wants to leave Starfleet and join the Caitian Planetary Navy."

Kami smirked, but then sat up as her combadge chirped and announced. "Counselor Hrelle, this is Dr Ling. Can you bring Misha and yourself to Sickbay, please? As soon as possible?"

Kami's smirk dropped. "What's wrong, Juliet?"

"I'll explain when you get here. It won't take long, but I'd appreciate it if you could hurry."

"Okay, we're on our way." She rose and collected the infant. "I doubt if Esek will want to leave Starfleet, Mama -- and neither do I, thank you for asking by the way -- but I'll mention it to him."

*

Such was his delight at the evening as Hrelle emerged from the turbolift on Deck 4, that he didn't notice the strange scents in the air until he was several metres down the corridor. Then he stopped and sniffed the air. Human... and something else? He knew the crew of the Nagaina were billeted on this deck in the Emergency Barracks-

He tensed as he heard someone rushed up towards him from around the corner -- a young, fresh-faced human in a one-piece beige utility outfit -- and wielding some sort of short rifle. "Hold it, Captain! Put 'em up!"

Hrelle blinked -- and then began drinking from the bottle still in his hand and swaying. "'Put 'em up'? Put what up where, bubulah?" He chuckled to himself, leaning against the nearest wall. "Oh, this Farshnosh has me hammered!" He drank from the bottle again.

The human blinked. "Uh- Your hands! I said put them up! You're coming with me!"

Hrelle looked at him and smiled, his words slurring now. "Ish thish a joke?" He pointed a swaying finger in the human's direction and chuckled again. "My Firshth Officer shent you, didn't she? She's got a wicked shensh of humour-"

The human tightened his grip on his weapon as he approached, almost putting the barrel of the gun to Hrelle's head. "Quiet! We're going to the Shuttlebay, and you're not gonna give me any trouble, right?"

Hrelle smiled as he made a shushing sound, but then replied with, "Sorry, can't promise you that, Stroke-off."