Surefoot 46: Mr and Mrs Ostrow

The Caitian grunted, never looking up from the beer in his hand. "It's late."

Kit turned in his chair to face his friend. "Best Friend Rrori, you appear more despondent than tired. What is troubling you?"

"Nothing."

Now Giles shifted in his seat on the other side. "You said you were a medical shuttle pilot on the Samaritan. Must be stressful."

"Not really. The Samaritan's stayed in the rear for most of the fighting with the Klingons; I transport away patients too critical to be beamed away."

Kit nodded. "That is very vital work."

"Your clan must be proud of you," Giles added.

"Yes." He finished his beer and set it down on table before him, rising. "I need to use the toilet. Be back shortly."

As he departed, Giles looked to Kit with concern. "He seems less... Rrori now."

The reptoid blinked, turning to watch the Caitian depart from view. "Indeed, Best Friend Giles. Perhaps the impending marriage of two of his friends has accentuated feelings of solitude in him?"

"Maybe. I have to admit, I don't hear from him as much as I do from you and the others. I just assumed it was because he replaced me as Flight Ops cadet in our Squad." He paused and looked to Kit. "Sasha's looking good, isn't she? All this responsibility she has now."

"Indeed," Kit responded. "And her relationship with Lt Madison appears strong and genuine."

"Does it? She's only known him for a few weeks. And that's been under adverse conditions." He finished his beer and rose. "I'll be right back."

Kit watched Giles depart. "The toilets here are in the opposite direction, Best Friend Giles."

But he didn't seem to hear.

*

In the holographic bar's toilets, Rrori stepped away from the urinals to wash his hands -- only to find what looked like a Caitian female leaning against the sinks, facing him. She was tall, statuesque, with fine fur the colour of hazelnuts, a fluffy tail that swished behind her, and a ruby dress that complemented her figure. He blinked. "Are you in the right place?"

Her muzzle twitched. "Do you mean geographically, or philosophically?"

He shook his head and moved to the sink. "I'm not in the mood to flirt with holograms-" But then he stopped, his nose twitching as he regarded her again. "You're real."

"Very," she confirmed. "Wash your hands, sport."

He did so, taking in her strong musk; she was in Season. "I was unaware of any new Caitians among the Surefoot crew."

"I'm not. I'm visiting, like you."

"Oh." He dried his hands. "Are you friends with the bride, or the groom?"

"Neither. I came to see you."

Rrori glanced around, confirming that they were alone in there, and faced her again. "Who are you?"

"My name isn't important. Aren't you more interested in my business with you?"

His senses reacted to her scent... but he forced aside his baser instincts. "Not really."

"You will be."

"Will I? You don't even know me."

The Caitian Female drew closer. "Meow Rrori, born in the M'Restir Province, your clan is prominent there, specialising in finance and wine growing. You scored exceptionally high at the Academy in Flight Control, Astrogation and Subspace Geometry. You were on the fast track to make Valedictorian, but a simple mistake on your part cost you that opportunity. Now you're a... shuttle pilot. Very vital work, as your green-skinned associate said out there.

Of course, you're capable of more. Much more."

Rrori stared at her. "How do you know all that?"

She smiled. "You don't deny it, at least."

No. He didn't. He recognised he was doing good where he was, that he was fortunate to have such a role in the War effort. He helped save lives. He should be content, happy, satisfied.

He should be.

But through the course of the day and the evening, as he learned more about what his friends had been up to, he felt... envious. Sasha, Jonas, Eydiir, Neraxis and Giles had prominent duties. Even Kit, their unassuming, unambitious little Science Officer, spoke of accompanying Away Teams on dangerous missions. Rrori was certain that he could probably push for something more exciting... but a part of him felt like he shouldn't have to ask for that, it should be offered to him!

The Caitian Female reached out, making a show of straightening out the lapels and the buttons on his jacket as she continued. "You know, there's nothing wrong with having ambition. With wanting to do more than what you're doing now. Especially if what you want to do is... exciting."

Her scent filled his nostrils, making him reach out and grasp the side of the sink. "What are you talking about?"

She looked into his eyes. "Do you remember how you felt when you went undercover on that operation for Starfleet Intelligence, at the Son'a space station Ta'Landra? The thrill of it? You admitted as much in the psychiatric assessment you underwent in the debriefing afterwards."

He started; that was a secret mission, highly confidential! How did she know- who was she? "I don't know what you're talking about-"

She smiled. "Good cub; you can be discreet. You enjoyed that work. And why not? You had adventure, excitement, women at your side, and you made a difference."

He couldn't deny it.

"Your efforts, your abilities and skills, were noted at the time, and not forgotten," she continued. "You deserve better than what you have now. And we can help you achieve it... while still serving the Federation, far more effectively than ferrying wounded about."

"Serving- you mean, in Starfleet Intelligence?"

She didn't answer, but instead leaned in, until he felt her hot breath against his ear, making it twitch. "If you're interested, send a message to Universal Exports in London, Terra, thanking them for their service. Then we'll be in touch." She patted him on the chest. "Wait here for thirty seconds, then return to your friends. And need I advise you tell no one about me, or this conversation?"

He swallowed; blood was rushing to every part of his body by her presence. "N-No."

"Good." She smiled again and winked, offering as she departed, "Maybe we'll work together in the future?"

Rrori stood there, still catching her scent in his nose.

*

At the bar, T'Varik continued her observation of the rest of the party, most of them now on the dance floor, in various states of intoxication and exhaustion. Neheru towered over them all, his arms almost reaching the raftered ceiling of the club, whooping with delight.

"What did you get our Ops Officer drunk on?"

The Vulcan turned at the approach of Kline, who continued to stare at the scene. "Tequila. But I suspect his exigent motivation is his recent Vahar'ai."

"His what?"

"When Kelpiens reach a certain age, as Neheru has just done, they shed the threat ganglia on their necks; they call this time the Vahar'ai. It also reduces their acute empathy and induces reckless, impulsive behaviour." She paused as she watched Neheru grab a holographic woman for an embrace. "And libido."

The Klingon laughed. "Qapla to him! I must see if he will fight!"

Nearby, Weynik, his jacket in tatters in various places on the floor, watched the scene curiously, before lifting up the beer glasses from the bar and walking back to the table where Hrelle sat, finishing off a rack of sticky ribs. "Bloody Hemra, Wide Load, do I have to stick that Tail Buzzer back on you to work off all the kilos you're putting on tonight? Or is it all empty Holodeck food?'

The Caitian grunted, licking sauce off of his fingers before noting, "Replicated food, transported into the environment. Same with the alcohol. All you pissheads are gonna wake up with killer hangovers." He took a beer glass from him. "Cheers, Big Ears." He paused and asked suspiciously, "No hard feelings about the jacket?"

"None."

"And we're done with the pranks?"

"You got it." Weynik clicked glasses with him.

And secretly made sure the vial in his hand, the contents of which he had emptied into Hrelle's glass before coming back to the table, wasn't seen.

Oh, Meatball, you're gonna hit Warp Ten with this joke...

*

Deck 2 Mid -- Guest Quarters Section:

Neraxis had almost walked down towards the Cadet Quarters, before remembering where she was berthed now, and headed in that direction, feeling the effects of drink and food and an evening of dancing and laughing and not thinking about what would be happening just a few hours from now and-

And she missed Jonas. It would be the first time in a long time that they hadn't shared a bed. Even on the Dragonheart, when they were on different shifts, they could count on smelling each other's scents on the sheets and pillows they shared.

She wondered if he was still enjoying himself at his own Party-

"Hey, True Blue!"

She stopped and turned, grinning as Jonas raced up to her, swaying a little with intoxication, hugging her tightly and kissing her before she asked, "What are you doing? Isn't there supposed to be some Terran superstition about not seeing the bride before the wedding?"

He kissed her neck. "I'll risk any bad luck. Anyway, I think it's that I'm not supposed to see you in your wedding dress before the wedding, and you're not wearing one, are you?"

She pulled back, blushing violet. "Well..."

"Really? What changed your mind?"

Neraxis pulled back to give him a sardonic look. "The combined nagging power of three mothers: yours, mine and ours."

"Ours?" He frowned, but then nodded in comprehension. "Kami."

"Yeah. While we were touring K7 with the rest of Alpha Squad, they spent all afternoon picking out my dress, and then when I got back to them, I had to... model it for them. Holy Hraxor..."

He laughed.

She smacked his shoulder. "You got it easy! There's a tux waiting for you!"

"Is there?" He chuckled. "So what's your dress like?"

Neraxis sighed. "A mix of Terran and Bolian design. Lace, sashes, a train-"

"You'll look beautiful in it," he promised.

She stared into his eyes, the imminent event suddenly bringing to the surface unresolved business. "Jonas... we can't have kids."

"Ner, I told you-"

She brought her fingers to his mouth to hush him. "And... I don't think I want kids, even through surrogacy or adoption. Not now. And maybe... not ever. Now, I might change my mind down the line, I can't know. But you need to be ready for-"

She stopped as he rested his forehead against hers, murmuring, "Thank God."

She drew back to look at him fully. "You're okay with that?"

"Okay? I'm relieved!" He breathed out, his face pinkening in that adorable way of his. "I was worried that you wanted a child now."

"You were?"

He nodded. "The next few years are gonna be... scary. It's going to be bad enough worrying about each other, without bringing children into the mix."

Relief washed over her, and she hugged him tightly for what seemed like forever.

Then he whispered, "We're still gonna have lots of sex, right?"

She reached down and squeezed his rear. "Count on it." They kissed, before she pushed him away. "Now get out of here, Boozehound, I have to go and not get any sleep."

He smiled. "Good night, Mrs Ostrow-To-Be."

"Good night, Mr Ostrow."

They lingered, slowly, before departing to their rooms.

*

Hrelle felt cold. Full, yes, but also cold, as he shuffled back to his quarters, being as quiet as he could as he passed the room divider into the main quarters, his nose, hearing and infra red vision letting him perceive Kami curled up in their bed, stirring with his presence. "Good time?"

He swayed as he kicked off his sandals and unbuttoned his shirt. "Yes. I had many, many women."

She made a sound. "You probably ate them all."

"Only if they got in the way of- of-"

He paused, his heart quickening as he cast off his shirt, feeling... things... dropping away from him, like leaves from a tree. He touched his chest. Then his arms. And now his face. "Mothers Cubs-"

His tone made Kami bolt upright. "Esek, what's wrong?"

"I- I-"

"Computer: Lights!" Then Kami's eyes widened. "Esek, what in the Seven Hells-"

He blinked, glancing down at the clumps of fur that were around his feet, and then looked to his hands, his arms, his belly. All furless, leaving behind grey, wrinkled skin.

The look of horror on her face seemed to lift her up out of bed, and he turned to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall near the table.

Mother's Cubs...

She drew up to him, her eyes darting down to his shed fur, and back to him, giving him a look he never thought he'd receive from her: revulsion. "What happened to you? Are you sick? Is it radiation? What?"

"I don't know! I don't-" Then his jaw dropped. "That... little... bastard!"

"What?"

He ground his teeth. "WEYNIK! He slipped me something! He must have! We've been pranking each other all night!"

"Never mind that! Get to Sickbay! You look hideous!"

Suddenly the door to Misha's bedroom slid open, and the cub stood there. "Who's going to Sickbay-"

Then he saw his furless father.

And shrieked.

*

Sasha hung out towards the rear of Holodeck 2, watching as Lt Velkovsky stood on a chair, her top in her hand and now swung over her head as she whooped and hollared to the encouragement of most of the others.

"That's a side of her I haven't seen before."

She turned to see Giles walk up. "Have the Holodecks been merged?"

He grinned and sided up to her. "No, I was just curious to see if your party is wilder than ours." He nodded towards Velkovsky. "And it is."

She drank. "You talk like you haven't seen boobs before. Which, I'm pretty sure, isn't true."

Giles sat down beside her, silent for a moment or two, until he looked at her again. "It's strange, being back on the Surefoot. Isn't it? And it's not even the first Surefoot we've served on. Do you remember our first meeting on it?"

She made a sound. "Actually, we first met on the transport on the way to the first Surefoot. You were going around like a dick, introducing yourself to everyone, absolutely sure you would be made one of the Squad Leaders."

He chuckled. "Yeah, what an idiot. With a big mouth. You were ready to knock into the next Quadrant for calling your Dad a traitor. It was only, what, four years ago now? Life hasn't gone where I expected it to go."

"It never does."

"But at least it's interesting, huh?"

Her voice remained leaden, unmoved by his attempt at levity. "It's always been interesting for me, Giles. It's been interesting since I was eleven, and I lost my Mom and Dad, and people started making me out to be some sort of Hero... something Life seems keen to keep testing me on. Again and again." She paused when she felt his concerned expression on her, and offered a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Ignore me, I'm just blowing off steam. The War's kept me on my toes."

"I understand..." He drew in closer. "If you need someone to talk to- we can leave here-"

"Thanks, I'll be fine." She turned away. "You should head back to the others, before you're missed."

"Sash, you seem bothered. Maybe I should-"

She spared him a final look. "It wasn't a suggestion, Giles."

He took the hint and departed.

*

Deck 3 Mid -- Sickbay:

Weynik kept chuckling as Masterson continued to study the readings on the biobed where Hrelle lay. The doctor glanced over at the Roylan. "You know, if you two put half the effort you put into one-upping each other towards the War, we'd probably all get home sooner."

"Oh come on, Doc, lighten up!"

"He's right, Short Round," Hrelle told him soberly, sitting up now, wincing as he caught one of the nurse reacting to his appearance. "I really scared Misha when he saw me. I had to leave Kami with him, to explain-"

"That'll be something to hear: 'You see that grey wrinkly sack of potatoes that just waddled out? That's your Dad'."

"I am so gonna get you for this, you little bastard-"

"Seriously, Esek, you look so freaking weird without fur- more rat than cat-"

"I KNOW!"

The Sickbay doors opened, and T'Varik and C'Rash entered, both women starting at the sight of their Captain, C'Rash opening with, "Seven Hells, Uncle Esek, you look like shit!"

"Thanks."

"Seriously, though, were you that drunk when you got back to your quarters that you tried trimming your fur but didn't know when to stop?"

"I suspect the answer lies with Captain Weynik," T'Varik opined critically.

Weynik snickered. "Hey, I never thought the thyoglymarin would work as well as this! I wanted him to shed a little, not end up looking like a half-inflated blow-up gargoyle!"

The Vulcan remained censorious, folding her hands behind her back. "And did either of you consider how your antics might affect the wedding of our former cadets?"

Hrelle looked up at his First Officer. "Hey, I didn't ask for this little butt pimple to do this to me!"

"Perhaps not specifically, Sir, but you and Captain Weynik have a propensity to goad each other into more and more outrageous acts of immaturity-"

The Sickbay door slid open. And Kami stormed in.

Hrelle tensed, recognising the expression on her face, in her scent, immediately.

Weynik, however, didn't, smiling as she approached him. "Counselor! Come to see just how bald your husband has-"

He never finished, as Kami's hand swung out and struck the Captain across his face, sending him sprawling.

Hrelle hopped off the table, and everyone else in the room reacted as well, but she ignored them all as she glared at Weynik rising back to his feet, her hand resting on her belly. Her voice was dangerously low and measured. "Three days ago, I had to sit my son down and explain to him that his sister was going to be born with a serious condition that would probably affect her whole life.

And since then, he's become obsessed with everyone he knows getting sick in some way, though at least the thought of getting married was a welcome distraction.

Until tonight, when he woke up from a sound sleep to find his father in this condition," She stabbed a finger in Hrelle's direction. "And thinking it was something terminal. He was sobbing!"

"Is Misha okay?" Hrelle asked, looking appalled.

As did Weynik. "I-I never meant to scare the little guy-"

"IS MISHA OKAY?" Hrelle repeated more loudly, forcefully.

Now Kami focused on her husband, though she looked just as ready and willing to strike him as she had done Weynik. "Oh yes... once I explained to him that his Papa wasn't dying, he's just an overgrown cub like his friend, and neither of them knows when to stop acting like a pair of immature, irresponsible clowns!

You two are in your fifties! You're fathers! You stopped being cadets decades ago! There is no excuse for this anymore!"

Weynik swallowed, thoroughly chastened. "Please, Kami, let me- let me speak to him-"

Hrelle drew up as well. "We'll both go-"

"No need. He wouldn't go back to bed until he gave you both a piece of his mind." She looked to each of the Captains. "He's outside now, and he's coming in here to tell you both off. And if either of you so much as smirks in response at what he has to say, I promise you I'll have you both put on Indefinite Medical Suspension pending a Full Psychiatric Evaluation."

"And the Counselor will have the full backing of the First Officer," T'Varik added sternly.

"And the Chief Medical Officer," Masterson offered, scowling. "Ya pair of jackasses!"

"Is that clear, Little and Large?" Kami concluded.

"Yes," Weynik replied humbly.

"Of course, Hon," Hrelle added.

She took a moment to glare at both of them some more, before returning to the Sickbay doors, letting them open up enough for her to lean out. "Come on, they're waiting for you."