Surefoot 43: Mamageddon

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

"Captain's Log, Stardate 50345.74, Captain Kami Hrelle Recording: after interminable years of chaos and mismanagement from the former Captain of this poor, benighted vessel, I have finally taken command. It will be a long, arduous struggle, to restore the crew's morale after suffering under my predecessor's inept and corrupt regime, but now the healing can finally begin-"

"Ahem."

She had been standing at the full-length mirror in their quarters, admiring how much the Command Red in her new uniform complimented her sepia fur, as opposed to her normal Medical Blue. She rested her hand on her distended belly, feeling Sreen kick inside, Kami's tail swishing playfully behind her as she turned to face her husband. "What?"

Esek Hrelle had been gathering his PADD and other materials from their desk, never looking up as he continued. "I'm still here. You couldn't wait to do that after I left?"

"But where would the fun be in that?" she asked, grinning mischievously.

"Right." He tucked his possessions under one arm and strode up to her, rubbing the side of his muzzle against hers, lingering to note, "I know you're overcompensating because of your nerves, but you'll be fine. It's just six hours, a simple Solo Mission to break you in. We've all done them, and survived."

She tried to affect an air of insouciance... but then relented and clung to his arm. "Are you sure I'm ready, Esek?"

He chuckled. "Of course you are. You passed the command tests, the Holodeck simulations - and it was T'Varik who graded them, not me, so you'll know it was unbiased - and you'll have C'Rash and our gifted cadets to support you." He drew back. "Not to mention one of the most fearsome figures ever to put on a uniform." He looked away, calling out, "Misha!"

The door to the adjacent bedroom slid open, and Misha Hrelle marched out, clad in a miniature version of a red-topped Starfleet uniform with Captain's pips, which he pointed to. "Captain Misha, Mister!" He looked to Kami, pointing at his mother. "Captain!" Then his father. "Captain!" And then back at himself, laughing. "Captain!"

Kami pointed from father to son to herself. "Captain! Captain! Captain!"

Hrelle carried it along, pointing to the three of them in turn. "Captain! Captain! Captain! Captain! Captain! Captain!" He threw up his hands and laughed. "There's too many pips in this room!"

Then he dropped to one knee, facing Kami's belly and resting one hand on her, his voice adopting a softer tone. "But you, My Little Supernova, will not be a Captain. You'll be an Admiral, and command us all. You take care of your mother and brother while I'm away." He rubbed the side of his muzzle against Kami's belly, before rising again, looking to Misha. "And you too, Furball."

"OK!" Misha agreed - and stuck his middle finger up at him in punctuation.

Kami frowned. "You taught you how to do that?"

"Cousin C'Rash! She says it means 'OK'!"

"Of course she did." Hrelle reached out and curled the finger down. "But she lied, to trick you into doing a rude gesture, so don't do it again." He then raised his own hand, forming a circle with his thumb and forefinger, and lifting up the others. "This actually means 'OK'. Okay?"

Misha nodded. "OK."

Hrelle smiled. "OK."

Misha frowned. "What's 'OK' mean?"

"Perhaps we can discuss this at a later date?" Kami suggested, feeling her tail nervously smack the wall beside her. "I have a ship to command." She tousled the fur on the top of Misha's head, making him growl. "And this cub has lessons to complete in the Crèche."

"No!" He shook a finger at her. "You new Captain! You need help!"

"Your Mama will have your cousin as her First Officer." He looked up. "Unless you want to hold fire until Neheru gets back from leave, he's had more experience as an XO-"

"No, I'm sure my niece will be fine in the role. Besides, it's just a trip to a gas giant and back, right? Six hours, while you and T'Varik stuff your faces at Tattok's Tactical Conference on the Triton."

"We won't be stuffing our faces," he assured her. "T'Varik won't, anyway; she'll be busy nudging me to stay awake."

"You're such an inspiration." She indicated the door. "Let's go, you're gonna be late."

Father and son turned to go, but Kami lingered, checking her reflection one last time, focusing on the four temporary pips she was wearing. She had been in Starfleet for longer than she cared to consider, had risen naturally up the ranks to Commander, but until recently had been content to hone her skills as a Counselor, never thinking about becoming a Bridge Officer, let alone commanding.

But the War, and their current role as an ambulance ship, had made her consider the necessity of expanding her skills. Starfleet officers were expected to continue to further their education throughout their careers, anyway, and she thought that Command would be more useful than Art or Archaeology or Music or other more popular subjects.

Besides, she was curious how her job skills would shape her command style. Most Starfleet Captains rose through the ranks via Engineering, Security or Science, producing different viewpoints, tactics. Medical-oriented Captains were rarer, and as for Counselors-

"Ahem," Hrelle said from the doorway. "You want to bring that mirror along with you?"

She stuck her tongue at him. "I'll have you keelhauled, as soon as I find out what 'keelhauling' means."

They walked around the corridor to the doors to Transport Room 1, where Commander T'Varik awaited them, noting the three uniformed figures. "We appear to have a surplusage of Captain Hrelles. It is perhaps fortunate that I am taking one of them away."

Kami regarded the Vulcan; in the weeks since her incident with the forced mindmeld on her from that SI agent - or had he been with Section 31? No one knew, or probably would ever know following the cover-up - T'Varik had recovered enough to return to duty long ago... but not without changes to her personality.

That was to expected, Kami knew, and she knew such changes could take victims of such crimes as she had experienced in different directions. T'Varik's direction seemed to be more... jocular. "Keep him awake over there, Commander, I don't want him besmirching the good name of my ship by snoring in the middle of the briefing."

"I will arrange for him to be seated next to Captain Weynik; he will not dare sleep for fear of his friend taking advantage and depantsing him."

Hrelle tapped his foot impatiently. "Yes, please, keep talking about me like I'm not here, why don't you?" He gave his wife another muzzle rub. "I'll send you a message at lunchtime. Have fun." He knelt and hugged his son. "You stay good today, Warrior Prince." Then he turned to Kami's belly, purring against it. "I know you'll be more than good, Daughter of Mine. You're destined for Greatness." Then he rose, adjusted his PADDs.

Misha looked up at T'Varik and raised his fingers in a Vulcan salute, offering, "Sochya eh dif, Keos-Toth."

T'Varik raised an eyebrow at him. "Your Vulcan is continuing to improve. But the gesture is entirely inappropriate." Now she dropped to one knee, arms opened. "Your Godmother insists on hugs from you."

Misha smiled and launched himself into her arms, as she wrapped them around the cub.

"You're lucky you got that hand gesture instead of another he's learned," Hrelle quipped.

Kami shot him a dirty look for interrupting the tender scene, before recovering as T'Varik rose and did the same, adopting her professional face and stance. "We should not tarry, Captain." She looked to Hrelle. "I mean you, Sir."

"I'm glad." He reached out and squeezed Kami's hand. "You'll be fine. Follow your instincts; command is driven by instinct more than the rulebooks might admit."

Kami smiled, looking to T'Varik. "Any last-minute advice from you, Commander?"

She nodded. "Do not consume food on the Bridge, or you will inevitably leave crumbs and stains on the arms and cushions of the Captain's Chair. As some who sit there are wont to do." T'Varik spared a glance at Hrelle as she entered the Transporter Room.

Hrelle looked to his wife and informed her, "She's talking about Neheru. He's a slob."

She pointed to the door. "Get off my ship, Mister."

He chuckled as he followed T'Varik inside.

Kami considered calling them back, to reschedule this Solo Mission. Then she took Misha's hand and walked him towards Sickbay. "I'm very proud of you, Cub of Mine. Not only are your languages improving, but you've been helping your Godmother feel better. Now, let's see how you do today with Numbers and Counting."

He growled.

She chuckled. "I know, I know, you hate it because you're not used to it. But while I know it's a challenge for you, it'll be worth it. I felt the same way when I started learning how to be a captain."

"And now you're the best!" Misha beamed. "The smartest! And you're prettier than Papa!"

"Thank you for saying that, Sweetheart. But you're still doing your lessons."

He growled again.

*

Deck 3 Fore, Alpha Squad Cadet's Quarters:

Zir Dassene tied her hair back, her olive Orion skin glistening with sweat again - Great, and she was just out of the sonic shower, she was gonna stink before their shift ends, she just knew it! - as she looked to the others in their common room. "Did I mention that I wanted us on the Bridge ten minutes early?"

Engineering Cadet Tori Emoto was adjusting her combadge for the third time, the young Asian woman frowning at it. "Only eleven times. Think you could make it an even dozen?"

"I want us on the Bridge ten minutes early." She mopped her brow with her hand. This was crazy! This was far from being their first Bridge Duty - she'd even sat in the Captain's Chair! - but it was the first under Counselor Hrelle, as Acting Captain. The Captain's wife had been such tremendous help to them, both individually and as a Squad, and Zir wanted to return the favour, by being as helpful and problem-free to the Counselor as they could, and make her solo mission run as smoothly as possible. "Stal? Have you been to the toilet?"

Behind her, Science Cadet Stalac the lump of orange-brown fibrous rock with the Starfleet combadge and voder unit bolted to the side of his silicon hide, rumbled with mild annoyance. "Again, yes, Zir. Honestly, I have one minor accident, and I'm labelled Piddlepants. And I don't even wear pants! Haven't any of you had similar accidents?"

Medical Cadet Peter Boone drew up to Zir and offered her a washcloth for her sweat, his blonde hair and rugged smile once a source of acute attraction to Zir - at least until she accepted that he preferred other men. "Our pee doesn't burn through the bulkheads, buddy."

"I came close to doing so last night, Comrades." The huge, grey-hided figure of Security Cadet Urad Kaldron shifted in place towards them. He has a heavyworlder, his massive pachydermoid frame hugging his modified sleeveless uniform, his long muzzle crinkling with amusement. "The Bolian curry I tried last night almost broke the toilet-"

"Too Much Information, Juggernaut," Engineering Cadet Tori Emoto informed him, making unpleasant sounds. "Ugh. I can still taste that sealant in my mouth."

"Don't!" Zir ordered, feeling like gagging herself with just the memory. When Stalac had his accident in the Rec Lounge while watching that Terran horror movie, converted to Hologram, Commander T'Varik ordered Alpha Squad to repair the damage his acid caused - which included applying polythylomer sealant spray on the cracks and pockmarks in the bulkhead, until the plates could be replaced at the next Starbase stop. Her stomach protested with the smell of the sealant... and her ankle protested when she twisted it after stepping on a freshly-applied patch and her boot got stuck there. Quick drying, my green ass... "It was a stupid little 400-year-old horror movie, Stal!"

"It was Kingdom of the Spiders, Zir! It had spiders in it!"

"One would hope so, with that title. What's so bad about spiders?"

"They have Too Many Legs! Bad enough seeing you bipedal Carbs gallumping about your spindly two legs, but eight? How can they move with such coordination? It's just... creepy!"

Peter laughed. "The lead actor in it was good-looking, though."

"What, the one that looked like those pictures of Admiral Kirk?" Zir asked. "You think he's attractive?"

"Yeah! I mean, for an older guy."

"Four hundred years older." Tori muttered, turning to the bedroom door and raising her voice. "Hey, Your Ladyship! Let's go before Zir Hulks out on you!"

"'Hulks'?" Zir asked, confused.

"Yeah," Peter said, chuckling with the recognition of the term. "From Terran mythology: an ordinary human who, when he gets angry or frightened, transforms into a gigantic, raging green-skinned monster that smashes everything around him, terrifying helpless people and- and-"

Zir glared at him.

"Which you definitely don't do, of course," he added hastily, his face reddening. "No resemblance to the Hulk whatsoever."

"Absolutely not," Tori agreed hurriedly.

"No resemblance whatsoever, Ma'am," Urad echoed.

"Oh, I don't know..." Stalac added.

Before Zir could respond to the quip, the door slid open, and Flight Ops Cadet Astrid Michel stepped out into the room like an actress entering the stage to applause. The tall, strikingly beautiful mahogany-hued human tossed back her sable hair, looked around and asked, "Well, what are we all waiting for? Our Fearless Squad Leader wants us on the Bridge early." She winked at Zir. "You need to enforce discipline more. When you do, though, let me watch."

*

Deck 3 Mid - Main Sickbay Suite:

Kami patted Misha on the rear as she shooed him into the Crèche. "Go on, and don't cause trouble!" She looked over at Eydiir, the former Medical cadet who had now quickly grew into, as Doc Masterson put it, 'One of the hardest working nurses a Sawbones could hope for'. "He has Numbers Lessons to finish before he's allowed to play. Don't let him purr his way out of that."

The tall, dark-skinned Capellan woman allowed herself a smirk. "I am immune to his charms, Counselor."

Kami raised an eyebrow.

"Mostly," Eydiir amended. "Are you feeling well?"

"Some nerves because of this Solo Mission, but I'll get over it. Though I did want to check in with the Doc, to see if those test results have come back from-"

"Counselor?"

She turned, smiling at the approach of the Chief Medical Officer. "Morning, Doc-" Then her smile dropped, as she read his expression and body language: slight anxiety, apprehension even. She kept her composure; the man had a great deal of responsibility, and had almost as much on his mind as the command officers. "Is there a problem? Something your new Acting Captain can-" Then she stopped, seeing more in his eyes than she liked. "What's wrong?"

His lantern jaw dropped as if to say something, before stopping himself and settling with, "I'm sure it's nothing that can't wait for Captain Hrelle to return and be with you-"

She drew forward, took him by the arm and guided him into his office, sliding the door shut. "What's wrong with Sreen? I know you sent the latest tests to Cait for confirmation-"

"Take a seat, Kami. Please."

She swallowed, feeling her stomach churn as she complied, watching him sit, not behind his desk, but in another chair on her side: not a good sign. It took all of her mental discipline to keep her breathing under control and her tail from smacking the legs of her chair. "Just tell me, Zeke. I'm a big girl, I can take it." No I can't, she corrected herself. I'm a wreck already. This is gonna kill me.

He nodded. "Okay, firstly, nothing has been confirmed at this time, understand? There are still variables at this stage in your daughter's development-"

"Doctor..." she growled.

Masterson flushed. "There's a possibility that Sreen will be born with Neurodystraxia."

Great Mother... "How strong is this possibility?"

"The closer you get to the start of your third bimester, the more certain we'll be of its likelihood... and what the probable severity will be."

Kami's hand rested protectively on her belly. Sreen... my sweet little cub, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I was so selfish... "It's my fault."

"Excuse me?"

"At my age, I should have known not to have another child-"

"What? No! No, Kami, this isn't your fault! Age isn't a factor in whether or not Neurodystraxia might emerge in a cub!"

"It's not?" She blinked, confused now. "I remember- remember when I was young, before my first Season, there was a cub in my class who had a brother who was Neurodystraxic. Papa Mi'Tree said it was because his mother had him late in life."

Masterson shook his head. "Well, I might not have been familiar with the condition before yesterday, but I've been catching up." He rose and moved to his private replicator. "Two Betazoid spice teas, hot." As a pair of identical white mugs with a red pawprint logo appeared in the replicator slot, he returned with them, setting both on the edge of his desk before sitting opposite her again. "There's been quite a bit of research done in the last couple of decades. Age is not a factor, nor anything else in your control. It's simply down to... bad luck at the genetic poker table."

She nodded, unable to shake the wave of guilt running through her like a phaser beam. "I... must admit I don't know as much about it as I might if I had specialised in Medicine rather than Psychology. I know it's rare, and there's probably more people who think they know about it than they actually do. Myself included, apparently." She looked to him and admitted, "Maybe I should just let you tell me about it?" Unspoken after it was her plea: and how you intend to cure my cub?

He nodded, reaching for a PADD and drawing up images on it that she recognised as neural configurations and genetic helices. "Firstly, and most importantly, Neurodystraxia is not fatal. It won't even cause her pain. It originates from genetic tampering to the Caitian genome during the period when your people were still on Ferasa Prime, and a portion of your population was Augmenting themselves. It's a particularly insidious condition, not easily detected even with the best medical equipment on hand, until a certain level of development - such as now, in Sreen's case.

It is typified by a failure of neurone development in the central nervous system, triggering imprecision in the brain to process information correctly, which results in messages not being properly or fully transmitted. The effects of this developmental difficulty can manifest across a wide spectrum of severity, ranging from an overall slowness to develop skills such as crawling, walking, grasping and such, to the requirement of mobility aids on a temporary or permanent basis.

There can also be a concurrent developmental delay with learning skills such as speech, reading, organisation, memory, concentration, as well as symptoms similar to what humans used to call autism and dyslexia... again with a wide spectrum of severity that Laggers will experience-"

"What did you say?" she cut in.

"What, Laggers? Yeah, I understand it's a colloquial term for Caitians with Neurodystraxia-"

"No, Doctor, it's not," she corrected sharply, her hackles rising and her claws emerging to dig into the arm of her chair. "It's a nasty, offensive term for Caitians with Neurodystraxia."