Surefoot 34: Mother's Cub

*

As he ascended the slope beside the Great Mother, Hrelle kept stopping and sniffing the air, picking up a familiar scent. Very familiar-

When he stopped for a fifth time, she looked to him curiously. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I'm picking him up too."

"Picking up who?"

"The Unspeakable One."

He frowned. The devil that took her cub C'Mau to the mountains to consume him, until his cry gave her the strength to tear down the mountains themselves and rescue him? Why was she persisting in this fantasy?

And why would the scent be so familiar to him?

He continued upwards, feeling light on his feet before he reached the top of the hill...

And looked upon a wide, sprawling field of bodies.

*

Masterson silently remarked to himself at how well the Counselor was holding up onscreen talking to him about her husband; the Caitian was as cool as a mountain stream in winter. That didn't make what he had to discuss any easier, though. "His body's on full life support until we get the brain damage repaired. We've mapped the affected areas in the prefrontal, temporal and paratemporal lobes; you Caitians have a few extra corners in your heads for managing auditory and olfactoral memories than I'm used to, but it's nothing I can't handle." He paused and added, "I'm sorry, I've had to employ Nanites. There's no other effective way, given the extent of the damage caused by the poison-"

She nodded, her reaction confirming what he had learned about Caitians and their societal attitudes to having nanotechnology inside them, even for medical purposes. "As his wife, I'm authorising you to do whatever is necessary to save him. Has there been any further word on what happened?"

He nodded back. "It's looking like Lt Cmdr Zawati deliberately poisoned him, and herself. Don't know why yet."

She frowned. "What haven't you told me, Doctor?"

He grunted; here it goes... "There's a particularly strong neural collective in Captain Hrelle's paralimbic sheath, indicative of a subpersonality bridging those areas governing aggression and territoriality-"

"Everyone has subpersonalities," Kami informed him -- a little too quickly and sharply, in his opinion. "Including humans. We each average a dozen. They help us cope with various psychosocial situations-"

"I've taken the psych courses myself, Counselor," he cut her off. "You don't have to sell me on them. But there's one in your husband that's particularly stronger than normal. It could almost be considered an Alter, a Mister Hyde to his Jekyll-"

"It isn't," she affirmed.

He nodded. "I assumed you would be aware of it, being his Counselor as well as his wife -- and having locked away his psych profile from everyone. Even your Chief Medical Officer. I'd like to know more about it before I start sending the little nano-critters rewiring things in there."

She breathed out, her expression acknowledging the unspoken rebuke in his words, before replying. "He calls it his Beast. It developed during his time in captivity, fighting and killing in the Orion death matches- and fuelled by Orion drugs and pain implants. It allowed him to compartmentalise the trauma and guilt."

"And of course because of the Caitian thing against nanotechnology, he never had it treated with neural realignment."

"Cognitive and behavioural redaction therapies proved to be efficacious in suppressing the Beast."

"But not eliminating it."

"No," she finally admitted. "But he has it under control. It has only ever been released during rare times of life-and-death crisis, when it was needed, and I've helped him cope with it afterwards. It's been months since he's had to let it loose."

"Weeks, Counselor, not months. I had to clean up what was left of some Klingons who boarded the Surefoot after the Captain blew their ships to Hell. Our Chief of Security tells me he prevented an imminent disaster with what he did. I guess I'll have to take her word on that." He left it at that, knowing that he was treading on thin ice, practically suggesting a misdiagnosis on her judgement based on her relationship with the patient in question.

Kami fixed an unwavering, no-nonsense gaze on him. "Zeke: I promise you, Esek, or the Beast in him, is no threat to any member of our crew... to any innocent. I wouldn't let him anywhere near my cub if I had any doubt about that."

Masterson studied her. In the months since his arrival here, he had grown to know and appreciate the people onboard. Caitians were a damn remarkable people, and the dynamics with Hrelle, Kami, C'Rash, and even their little critter Misha made him glad he knew them. Yes, some of their ways took getting used to, especially the thing about nanotechnology -- it had something to do with a historical incident involving the Ferasans using them as weapons or conditioning tools or something against their racial cousins -- but he still liked them a lot. And the business with Hrelle's Beast is certainly no stranger than how Vulcans corral their emotions.

He finally shrugged. "Good enough for me. We're still stabilising him, but we'll be ready to start work on repairing his brain by the time you get here. Given how well you Caitians react to each other's pheromones, I'd sooner start with you and your Little 'Un in the room -- assuming you think Misha can handle seeing his Papa like he is now."

"He'll manage it, I'm preparing him now-"

Suddenly the screen went blank, quickly replaced with the Starfleet logo, and the announcement TRANSMISSION ENDED -- SECURITY DIRECTIVE 47. "What the-"

Then he heard noise from outside, and rose from behind his office desk to see strangers in Starfleet uniforms, Security body armour -- and carrying phaser rifles. He emerged, stopping when one of them pointed a weapon at him. "What in tarnation-"

"Don't move!"

Masterson looked around, saw the confused and angry faces of Shyrik, Eydiir and the other nurses standing there near their two patients, while the Security crewmen swept wide blue phaser beams at low intensity over the occupants, and then every square millimetre of the Sickbay, from ceiling to floor, before one of the intruders activated a communicator on their person. "Main Sickbay clear! Moving into the corridor to Sections 4-4!"

Masterson watched them depart in a quick, efficient swarm, and turned to Shyrik in time to see the Andorian snarl, "What was that? They beamed in here without warning, threatened us! I was ready to strike one down-"

"It's a damn good thing you didn't," he informed her, checking the biobed readings on their patients. "I saw the look in that dude's eyes. He's taking whatever he's doing here seriously."

"But why did they come here? What was it all about?"

"We'll find out soon enough." He began preparing to direct the surgery. "Come on, let's get started on Zawati, while the Captain keeps stabilising."

*

C'Rash was entering the Main Transporter Room and signalling Grev to initiate the beam-in, when Neheru called from the Bridge. "Lieutenant, we're detecting multiple transporter beams from the Triton to points throughout the Surefoot! Armed Starfleet personnel! Transmissions both internal and external are being bloc-"

The rest of his report was cut off, and went C'Rash tapped her combadge, she received no acknowledgement. She looked to Grev, but he was busy completing the transport, and in seconds, three columns of energy on the Pad coalesced into a tall, pale-skinned Vulcan female with greying temples and the same arrogant expression that C'Rash remembered vividly, with two large, armoured Security officers wielding the new phaser compression rifles. The trio stepped down, the guards activating wide low-level phaser beams that passed over C'Rash, an indignant Grev and the full interior of the Transporter Room.

Sakuth waited until they had stopped before approaching C'Rash. "Lieutenant."

"Welcome aboard, Captain. How's the throat?"

The Vulcan's expression tightened almost imperceptibly. "I have fully recovered from the injuries you inflicted upon me. And you will not incapacitate me again like that."

"I guess I'll have to find another way." The Caitian nodded to the guards. "Care to explain this?"

"New procedures to detect Changelings. The phasers are on a setting that will not adversely affect organic or inorganic material, but is on a frequency that will disrupt the colloidal quantum signature of Changelings, breaking them from whatever they might be disguised as."

"I see. And presumably that explains the unauthorised beaming in of other personnel onboard, and disrupting our communications systems?"

Sakuth raised an eyebrow. "The actions were authorised, by Admiral Tattok. If a Changeling has infiltrated your ship, it would be counterproductive to announce that we were searching for it, wouldn't it?"

C'Rash grunted. "I think I could smell if a Changeling was onboard."

"Unlikely. What is the status of your Captain and First Officer?"

"In surgery. Doctor Masterson believes they'll recover."

Sakuth nodded to her guards, who moved ahead towards the doors, continuing their phaser sweep as they departed into the corridor. "Take me to the crime scene."

The Caitian nodded and followed the guards outside, occasionally having to assure crew passing by to carry on and ignore the sweeps. "So, how have you been lately?"

The Vulcan stared ahead. "Our history, and your present affiliation with my former lover, would suggest you are insincere in any supposed interest in my welfare. Besides which, I lack any desire to socialise with underlings."

C'Rash grunted. Yeah, I should have squeezed harder around your throat, bitch.

They entered the Ready Room, the guards sweeping through here before stepping out onto the Bridge. C'Rash offered Neheru and the other confused crewmembers a reassuring raised hand, before following Sakuth inside, watching the Vulcan produce a Security tricorder from her belt and scanning the room. Knowing that they needed to work together despite their animosity, C'Rash offered, "I heard a noise in here, called the Captain, and when he didn't answer, I entered-"

"I did not request an account from you." Sakuth knelt at the side of the desk, scanning the dropped coffee mug. "Traces of tetra-lubisol."

"We've examined the replicator records and ran an inventory check-"

"I did not request input, either."

"What is your problem... Captain?"

Sakuth looked up at her. "I have no 'problem', Lieutenant, as you so puerilely put it. I had already anticipated such ideas, and my people are already accessing your replicator and stores logs and security records. Therefore, anything you might offer would be useless to me." She looked around the scene, moved and reached for something under the desk, drawing into view a plastic container. She removed the lid and peered inside with a frown. "What is this?"

C'Rash caught the scent from within, but didn't need that to identify it. "Southern Fried shuris pieces. A meat product from Cait."

"I identified it immediately as food. What is it doing under your Captain's desk?"

"It's his Secret Snack Stash, for when he's on another diet. It's there on a Don't Ask, Don't Tell arrangement with the Doctor."

Sakuth sealed the box and rose to her feet. "I am almost prepared to immediately discount outside involvement in this incident, as Captain Hrelle would be considered an insignificant target by the Dominion. My assessment of him from my last visit to this ship remains unchanged: he is a corpulent, weak-minded embarrassment to Starfleet."

C'Rash folded her arms across her chest. "Awww, and he was doing his best to please you, too."

"You are here to assist, not to speak in such an insolent manner to a superior officer."

"Assist? I thought that anything I had to offer would be useless to you?"

"Prove me wrong."

C'Rash nodded at the challenge, glanced around the room, and announced, "Lt Cmdr Zawati poisoned the Captain, and then attempted suicide."

"Explain your reasoning behind that."

The Caitian breathed in before continuing. "Zawati made a habit of bringing Captain Hrelle coffee while they met between shift changes; he wouldn't expect anything unusual in receiving a drink from her. She rose up through the Engineering ranks, and would know about the toxic effects of tetra-lubisol, and where to obtain it onboard a starship. And as I attempted to explain before you insulted me, I ordered a check of the replicators and the stores; Zawati is confirmed to have ordered these two coffees, and was seen near the Shuttlebay Stores last night, where a container of tetra-lubisol was found opened today."

"Is that all you are basing your supposition on, Lieutenant?"

"I'm not done. When I found them in here, his combadge was in her hand, as if she'd taken it from him to keep him from calling for help." She looked around, moving to the far end of the room and returning with a framed photo of Kami, Sasha and Misha. "Why isn't this on his desk where it belongs?"

"Perhaps Hrelle himself threw it in a fit of anger at his family?"

C'Rash stared at her. "Permission to freely tell you how idiotic that notion is?"

"Denied. You speak of opportunity. What about motive?"

"She had been openly critical of Captain Hrelle's decision to assist the Klingon civilian transport ship IKS Borha'l this week, and the Captain himself informed me at the time that her brother had been reported injured evacuating from Archanis IV when the Klingons overran it."

"He had suspicions that she might attack him?"

"No, at the time he wanted me to find out more about his condition. He was concerned for her."

"He is a sentimental fool." Sakuth turned the tricorder to the untouched coffee mug on the desk. "There is no trace of tetra-lubisol in the liquid. You are supposing that she drank some of Captain Hrelle's poisoned coffee? Why? That is not logical."

"It is if she intended to die alongside him."

"Then why not poison both drinks?"

"Maybe she hadn't intended to poison herself at first, but once the realisation of her act became clear, suicide became a preferable option? Maybe she only had enough poison to spike one drink to a level that guaranteed a lethal reaction? Or maybe she was worried about succumbing to poison in her own drink before he succumbed to it in his?"

Sakuth regarded her, and then tapped her combadge. "Lt Fremont, examine the Surefoot communication logs for all messages directed towards Lt Cmdr Zawati. Focus on the last three days, report on anything significant or unusual." She eyed C'Rash with what could almost be classified as suspicion. "It seems unlikely that a disagreement over the treatment of Klingons would be a sufficient trigger for a senior Starfleet officer to consider murder and suicide."

Then her combadge chirped, and a man's voice announced, "Captain, Lt Cmdr Zawati received a message yesterday from Starbase 244, reporting the death of her brother, a Lieutenant Philip Zawati, from injuries received from a Klingon attack during the evacuation of Archanis IV."

Sakuth looked to C'Rash as she replied, "Acknowledged, Lieutenant. Sakuth out." As the signal closed, she admitted, "That can be considered a potential trigger for her to attempt murder. Humans are sufficiently irrational to seek blame for the death of a family member on someone not involved with it. Your theory may possibly have some minimal merit after all."

C'Rash grunted. "Careful with the praise there, Captain, you're gonna give me Happy Tail."

"You have some potential for competency in this field, Lieutenant. Do not hamper it with facetiousness. I wish to go to Sickbay to confirm the present status of the two officers."

The Caitian indicated the door. "After you, Ma'am. The transport from Earth should be here by now, and we'll probably see Commander T'Varik and the Captain's family waiting for us."

*

Hrelle and his companion looked out, awestruck, at a vast collection of bodies. Humans, Klingons, Gorn, Orions, Nausicaans, Miradorn, Tzenkethi, others... so many others...

His nose and tail twitched as he silently descended the slope, the Great Mother following, as serenely as always. The scents reached his nostrils, overwhelmed him until he covered his snout with his hand. "They're- they're fresh. Freshly killed."

"Yes," she agreed, kneeling by one Klingon body and examining the wounds, then moving to another. "By a Caitian. One Caitian, in fact, to judge from the claw and teeth marks." She sniffed the air. "And the scent. Yes, the Unspeakable One."

He shook his head. "One Caitian did all this?" Then he forced himself to remove his hand and try and pick up the Caitian scent of her Unspeakable One... "No, there's nothing there, apart from..."

He looked at the bodies again, knelt and examined one of the Klingons, recognising the unusual House crest on his baldric. "No..."

She drew closer. "Something wrong?"

"This... This was one of the Klingons who had boarded my ship weeks ago, after I blew up theirs. They beamed into the Morgue. It was filled... filled with the bodies of Starfleet crewmen from the USS Tsukuba, those who didn't survive the rescue. They- The Klingons used the bodies as sandbags."

"And in your outrage, you let loose your Beast upon them," she finished, looking around again. "You let loose your Beast upon all of them."

He looked up at her. She believed her Unspeakable One was his Beast? That... that...

That made sense, from what he saw here. Some he began to recognise: the child trafficking ring on Skaro; the Ferasans who drugged him and tried to kill him; the Nausicaans who attacked Sasha and Alpha Squad on that freighter; the Miradorn pirates on Attiok III...

Through the Beast, they had all indeed fallen because of him. Criminals, opponents, enemies...

There were so many.

"WHAT A LOVELY SCENT, EH, ESEK?"

They looked up to a hill, where a large Caitian male, dressed in the gladiator's kilt and body armour he had worn in the arena, stood. The male was scarred, muscular, his fur matted with blood of many colours, the blood of his opponents. And, of course, he looked identical to Hrelle, if a more muscular version. He was exactly as Hrelle had always pictured him in his head.

Hrelle looked up at him; how strange, to see this part of him as a separate entity instead of something more abstract. "What's going on? What do you want?"

"MUCH, ESEK! MUCH!" the Beast bellowed at him, laughing. "AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR YOU OVER THE YEARS, NOW YOU CAN DO SOMETHING FOR ME! FOLLOW ME EAST! MEET ME AT THE PLACE WHERE I WAS BORN! AND THEN... THINGS CAN FINALLY BE SETTLED BETWEEN US!"

"Wait! We can-"

But the Beast disappeared over the hill.

"He does like to roar, doesn't he?" the Great Mother quipped. "Well? Come on, let's get going."

"No, wait!" He paced around the bodies, ignoring them now, and shaking his head. "I'm inside my own head right now, and so's he. What if... what if he hurts me in here? Kills me, even? What will happen? Will he become the dominant personality, take over fully, permanently?"

"Is that what he wants?"

"Of course it is! Why else would he be playing these games? I can't let him take over, to have access to Misha and Kami and everyone else in the real world!" He swallowed, gasping.

She took a step closer. "You're afraid of him."

Hrelle looked at her, angry... and anxious. "Yes. I've killed... ordered the deaths of enemies and the destruction of ships. But whenever it came down to the visceral, the... intimate... I've let the Beast take over. Let him take the burden of spilling blood. He's..." He shuddered. "He's good at it."