Surefoot 30: Class of 2372

"Personal Log, Stardate 49561.36, Sasha Hrelle recording: The Surefoot has arrived at Earth prior to the graduation of the Class of 2372. My class. The cadets and crew are taking the opportunity to catch up with relations or take shore leave. I, however, have... business to attend to. I'm an Adult now, you see.

I hope I can manage Adulting. Seems in parts scary and boring."

*

Harbstodt Township, New York State, Earth:

She looked out of the window at the sprawling treescape, a million greens in as many shades reaching out to the craggy, ephemeral peaks of the Adirondacks. The sky was clear, and the air carried a strong scent of lavender. It was just as she remembered it, and she wanted to stand there and stare out at it forever -- if only to keep from having to face finishing the task literally waiting behind her.

"Sasha?"

She still didn't turn away, knowing the Caitian woman wouldn't think it rude of her, but instead listened to the creaking floorboards as Kami entered the bedroom.

"Who's this?"

Now Sasha turned. The woman who had been her Counselor, her friend, and had definitely become a lot more to her since, had lifted up one of the items covering the small bed, a picture frame, and regarded it curiously.

Sasha didn't have to look at it to know who it was. "Mr Oruh, my teacher back on Salem Four, until the Bel-Zon attack. He retired after he recovered from his injuries and returned to Betazed, but he sent me that image when I was shipped to Earth." She reached out and examined it again, seeing the kindness behind the solid, coal-black eyes, and she smiled. "We always thought he used his telepathy to catch us passing notes or doodling instead of paying attention, but I suspect we were just really crap at hiding it. He sent me messages for a while after I arrived but..." Her expression sobered again. "But I think Grandma Eismann contacted him and asked him to stop, telling him that it was just reminding me of what had happened to Mom and Dad."

"And not just for you," Kami prompted, moving around the room, Sasha's former room. "For your mother's parents too. It must be like the Seven Hells for parents who outlive their children. I hope I don't have to do that; it would break me. It would just... break me..."

Sasha watched as the Caitian's tail swish gently, and then grow still -- as she placed a hand on her belly.

A thought made the cadet blurt out, "Are you pregnant again?"

Kami stopped, turned and grinned, her mane of sepia fur shimmering in the morning light streaming through the open bedroom window. "No!" But then her eyes twinkled. "But I admit I am thinking about it. A girl this time, maybe. My own Princess. And better to do it with a shorter gap in years to Misha, so they'll be close but he can handle the change in attention focus." Then she dropped her hand and approached Sasha. "We should get things wrapped up. And by we, of course, I mean you."

Sasha nodded and faced the bed; all of her childish possessions were scattered here, left in the house with her maternal grandparents, who had taken her in after the Salem Four attack, raised her, and encouraged her to go on to Starfleet Academy despite their obvious fears about her meeting a similar fate to her mother and seemingly her stepfather too. She felt guilty that she never came back more, beyond the odd visit on Academy breaks. But as she had grown, she had forged for herself a life that was growing ever more detached to what was here.

Books, games, stuffed animals, pens and paper, clothes she couldn't possibly fit into now- then she dug down deeper and found another photo, smiling at it.

Kami drew up beside her, sliding an arm around the young woman's waist as she shared the view of the picture: a nine-year-old Sasha, sticking her tongue out, as did a younger-looking Esek Hrelle and his then-wife Hannah.

Kami laughed softly. "So, he was always a fat bastard, huh? I'm amazed he passed the Starfleet physicals."

Sasha smiled. "I could never get my arms around him fully. Still can't." After a moment, she nodded to herself, slipped the photo into the bag she had brought and fastened it up. "Let's go."

"That's it? Nothing more?"

"I don't need anything more."

"And have you made a decision about the house, the estate?"

"Yes. The firm that was hired to maintain the place after the Eismanns' deaths have located some relations in Florida. I'm going to sell it all to them. Or give to them. I really don't care which. At least it'll still be in the family's possession. I've made new family."

"Are you sure about that? It is lovely up here. It could make for a wonderful home for you to stay whenever you're on Earth."

"Home?" Sasha shook her head with a wistful smile, before looking up at the raftered ceiling, as if peering through it to the sky above. "I am Starfleet now. My home is in the stars, a thousand thousand twinkling lights, with a thousand, thousand adventures orbiting each one. Infinity is my backyard, Eternity my calendar-"

Kami reached down and smacked the girl on the rear. "Alright, alright, you've passed the audition. Now let's get moving and collect your Dad and brother before they devour all the fresh toffee apples and caramel popcorn from the nearby town."

*

As it happened, Esek Hrelle never left the graveyard that sat between the Eismann family home and the town of Harbstodt. He had smelled the foods on offer, of course, but was at an uncharacteristic loss of appetite, as he stood at the grave of his first wife. They had buried Hannah in the family plot, and her parents beside her when they had subsequently died.

There was a twinge of guilt at not being here for Sasha when she had suffered these losses -- and anger at those responsible. But he cast it aside now, at least the latter; the recent work he and his crew had done at the Son'a station had resulted in dozens of arrests of Bel-Zon operatives and associates throughout the Quadrant.

There had even been arrests of Starfleet officers in their employ, like that First Officer for Captain Lucille Arrington, who had taken over command of the Impala in the wake of her removal from active duty following her breakdown (and thinking about that made Hrelle wonder how much of that had been contrived by the Bel-Zon to put one of their own in a position of power and mobility). Their assets were seized, and their influence no longer extended past the non-aligned Skarosian system. As far as Hrelle was concerned, they could sit there and rot for eternity.

The guilt remained, and always will, he suspected, despite it not being his fault. But even then, he knew that, while the guilt was there, nothing could be done of it. And there was no sorrow either anymore at her passing. He had moved on. And he believed Hannah would have wanted it that way.

Then his ears twitched as he heard the sounds of someone trying to sneak up on him from behind, careful and quiet as he could be... but not careful or quiet enough for someone of Hrelle's age and experience. Still, the Captain allowed his stalker to draw closer... closer...

Misha, clad in running shoes, red shorts with a hole in the back for his tail, and a matching T-shirt with the Starfleet logo on the front, leapt up onto his father' back, using his claws to climb up and clamp his fangs around Hrelle's neck, growling. Hrelle gave a theatrical yelp, dancing around as he cried, "You got me, my Warrior Prince! You got me!" Then, suddenly realising how disrespectful this might appear if anyone else was in the graveyard, he reached around and held the cub up in his arms. "But maybe you should save it for the park or the playground or the Holodeck, not places like this, okay?"

"Trouble Time?" Misha asked, unsure what he had done wrong.

"No, no, not Trouble Time," his father reassured him, lifting him up onto his shoulders. "Now, let's go see about some toffee apples. And no farting up there!"

"Hey you two!"

Hrelle turned, Misha grinning and waving happily. "Mama! Sasha! Caught Papa!"

The two women were walking up the road, a bag slung under Sasha's arm, the girl grinning at her little brother's proclamation. "That can't have been too difficult, he is old and fat, after all."

Misha laughed with delight and slapped his father on the head. "Olden fat! Olden fat!"

Hrelle growled as they departed from the graveyard. "Thanks, Runt of the Litter. Have you settled things?"

"Yeah. Can we head back now? I've still got a shitload to do-" She glanced up at Misha guiltily and clarified, "I mean, a lot of work to do. Processing for the trip to Vulcan, rehearsing, finishing my speech..."

They began walking to the airtram station just outside of town, Hrelle asking, "You still haven't finished that thing? You've had weeks! How hard can it be?"

"You can always let her read your Valedictorian speech for inspiration," Kami suggested. "Oh no, wait, you never made Valedictorian, did you, Esek? In fact, you were in the bottom ten percent of your alumni, weren't you?"

That shut him up, and they continued to walk quietly together.

Until Misha declared loudly to passers-by, "SASHA HAS A SHITLOAD!"

*

Starfleet Academy Headquarters, San Francisco, Earth:

The Golden Gate Bridge glistened in the sunlight raining down on the Bay, and on Starfleet Academy, as Hrelle enjoyed the view from the Superintendent's office. Starfleet had twenty-five Academies in total stretched throughout the Federation, and literally hundreds of Annexes and smaller facilities; not all of the future officers of the organisation could come here to study and train, there simply wasn't the room for them all. But this one was the first, and the most prestigious, and more often than not, when people talked of Starfleet Academy, they referred to the one here on Earth.

Admiral Ruth Goldstein brought a glass of Aldebaran whiskey over to him. "Penny for your thoughts, Captain?" She handed the glass to him. "It's an old Earth expression-"

"I know." He turned to her, smiling. "Actually, I was thinking about taking over your job someday."

The petite, pepper-haired woman smirked, cradling her own glass. "Oh? Should I be worried about a coup d'etat?"

He chuckled. "No, the thought had come to me in a... dream... I recently had. But the dream took place in the distant future, when I had a lot more grey in my fur."

"Well, I can tell you, Esek, if you get the job, and you don't have grey beforehand, you will once you start dealing with all the political mishigas." She raised her glass. "L'chaim."

He raised his own. "To Life."

They drank, Hrelle feeling the rush to his head. "Thanks for that, Ruth. So, what can I do for you?"

Goldstein was more sparing with her imbibing, and turned to look out at the Academy grounds. "I know T'Varik and your wife is busy now selecting the next batch of cadets for your ship for September, but there's background talk about whether or not we should continue with the Advanced Work Experience Program at all, in light of the deteriorating situation in the Quadrant. The break with the Klingons, this Cold War with the Dominion. And of course, the remaining threats from the Borg, the Romulans... to put cadets out there to face such dangers before they're ready..."

She shrugged. "There was always that talk, of course; you know yourself, you've been involved in the debate. But now, the threats are more concrete, they're appearing in the nightly news reports. People can't ignore them any longer, and they want to know if it's too risky to let them be out there before they're ready to face those dangers."

Hrelle's brow furrowed as he considered the woman's words, though he already had an answer for her. "Ruth: no one is ever ready. You can take all the training, all the classes, all the little cruises around Saturn in some vintage ship. You can walk off this campus with your diploma and your Ensign's pips on your collar and all the best intentions possible. But you're never really ready until you're out there.

I understand the fears; I'm a parent, too, and in my time, my daughter's nearly died, twice, not to mention being assaulted, threatened... and many of the other cubs on my ship have gone through similar trials. But at least now, with our guidance, we can prepare them as best we can."

His face went taut now. "And... at the risk of sounding ominous: if things do deteriorate and we end up going to War, and the Dominion proves to be as formidable as Starfleet Intelligence claims, then the issue of cadets going out into space too early will be moot. We'll be shortening the education time, relaxing the standards. We're going to need bodies to make up for those we'll be losing. In great big numbers."

They went quiet for a moment.

"I wish you were wrong," Goldstein admitted in a whisper.

*

Minutes later, Hrelle emerged from her office, to find someone else waiting. His hackles rose. "Admiral."

Admiral Trenagen was staring at a painting of a Constitution-class starship on the wall, his hands folded behind him, but now glanced at Hrelle. "Good afternoon, Captain. Welcome back to Earth."

"Thank you, Sir." Hrelle felt his tail grow still. His relationship with the Head of Starfleet Intelligence began years ago following his escape from the Bel-Zon, when Trenagen attempted to recruit Hrelle into going after the criminal organisation. Hrelle supplied all the intelligence he could recall, but otherwise refused, preferring to be around to reunite with Sasha and regain some of his old life.

Trenagen took it badly. Every subsequent encounter only reinforced Hrelle's belief that he had made the right decision -- especially when Trenagen repeated his offer, but this time hinting that it would not be with SI, but the organisation referred to in rumour as Section 31. And Hrelle made it doubly clear that he wouldn't get involved with an illegal, unsanctioned organisation, no matter Trenagen's convoluted justifications for such an agency.

Since then, the man had been all business, in those few times they had interacted.

"Congratulations on your daughter making Valedictorian," he commented.

Hrelle nodded. "Thank you, Admiral. I'm very proud of Sasha."

"I understand she's attending the Advanced Command Training on Vulcan immediately after graduation."

And how did you know about that? Hrelle asked himself, settling to answer with "Yes. I'll miss her, but I'm happy for her."

"Of course."

Hrelle breathed in, indicating the door. "If you'll excuse me, Admiral, it's been a delight getting back in touch with you, but we're both busy men..."

*

Senior Cadet's Mess Hall:

Jonas Ostrow checked his pocket PADD for the twentieth time, before returning to not eating his chicken penne, and listening to the conversations around him.

Across from him, Neraxis Nemm stopped devouring her Bolian vindaloo to study her boyfriend. "She'll get here, don't worry." She smiled, her blue, bisected face widening in a grin. "Maybe she hasn't responded because she's on the same transport as my mother, and they're too busy planning our wedding reception?"

"No," he replied absently. "She's coming in from a different direction, she won't be on the same ship."

She reached across and smacked him on the forehead. "I know that, Scrappy! I'm as smart as I'm sexy, after all! I just want you to relax!" More gently, lovingly now, she added, "We've got some time for ourselves, we'll meet the others tonight, and then tomorrow, your Mom and mine will be here to see us pissing ourselves with nerves in front of hundreds of people!"

He smirked, shaking back his silver hair. Then he glanced around at the cadets at the neighbouring tables, before leaning in and speaking more confidentially. "It's weird."

She frowned. "What is?"

He made a motion of indicating the others in the immediate vicinity. "I'm looking at them, listening to them talk about classes and dates and musicians and sports events, petty little things that they think are life-changing crises, and they haven't even thought about what they will face Out There. And I know that we're cadets just like them, at least until tomorrow, but... I'm not feeling it any longer."

Neraxis' expression sobered. "That's because we're not cadets like them anymore, Scrappy. We've been through too much. But let's not judge them too harshly, they can't be as blessed as us."

"Or cursed," he added gloomily.

She stared at him a moment longer, before reaching across, and switching his plate for hers.

Jonas glared at her. She picked up a chunk of vindaloo onto her fork and offered it to him. "Here, have some, I guarantee you it'll clear that stick you have up your ass..."

*

Robert April Annex:

Meow Rrori stopped and adjusted his Starfleet cadet's uniform sleeves once more, his white tail wagging behind him as he rushed up to his mother, hugging her tightly. "It is so pleasing to see you both! How was the journey?"

Ntruuer Rrori's spotted white fur matched her son's, as did her smile as she hugged and sniffed him, relishing his scent. "Fine, fine, my darling cub! And you wouldn't believe who was onboard! Fleet Captain Ma'Sala Shall herself! And one of her husbands, Mi'Tree! You know? From the action vivids?"

Rrori smirked. "I know, Mother. I've met both of them when they visited the Surefoot. It was most impressive to talk with them, work and fight alongside them against the Vlathi."

Beside his mother, the Clan's Matriarch Mrirl Rrori stood, supported on a jewelled wooden cane but otherwise retaining the strength and vitality of a female a third of her age, harrumphed. "You're both too easily impressed. Their clan isn't even one of the original Twenty Landers." She held out her free hand, beckoning to her grandcub. "Well, Meow? I didn't travel 178 light years to just stand here like a statue and not get a hug."

"Sorry, Grandmother." He moved in, careful not to squeeze too hard. "Thank you for coming. Thank you both."

Ntruur smiled, reaching up and stroking the fur on his head. "You don't have to thank us, darling! How can we not be here to see you graduate?"

Mrirl began walking along the path. "And to find out why you didn't make Valedictorian."

Meow felt himself blush under his fur; he had been reluctant to even mention it when it had been announced that Sasha had been awarded that honour. But his joy at the deserved victory of his friend was tempered with a growing dread when his clan found out, and wanted to know why it hadn't been bestowed on him. And then he'd have to tell them the truth... "Grandmother, I told you, Sasha is an amazing cadet-"

"And so are you! Amazing, brilliant, talented, hard-working, handsome, well-bred! Especially well-bred! And I find it suspicious that this human, the daughter of your Captain, would get this accolade."

"Grandmother, firstly, she's not like any human you might have met! She's more Caitian than you'd imagine! And secondly, I promise you, her father had no part in Sasha being selected! Please, promise me that you'll drop the subject and not bring it up again!"

Mrirl just grunted in response.

*

Starfleet Medical Academy Annex:

Eydiir Daughter-of-Kaas sat in the briefing room with the other appropriate cadets, already aware of the content of the discussion from the older human male in Starfleet Medical blue, but required to attend and at least pretend to find it all novel and interesting. "Now, you will all have been taking your Pre-Med courses during your four years in Starfleet Academy, and presumably you'll have passed, otherwise you wouldn't be here now to be bored listening to me."

He chuckled at his own joke, and a few sycophants in the audience laughed too. It was all Eydiir could do to keep from agreeing with him out loud and walking out in protest. Following her visit to her homeworld, she had decided on changing her plans and staying full-time at the Academy once on Earth, and studying at Starfleet Medical. It had seemed a good idea. At first.