Surefoot 47: The Nanny State

SUREFOOT: THE NANNY STATE

Esek Hrelle, Captain of the USS Surefoot-A and Unashamedly Proud Father, held the tiny swaddled furred figure in the crook of his left arm, with more care than he had ever shown before with anything, and made sure the holocommunicator cameras in his Ready Room took her in fully, especially her snout twitching as she slept. His voice was equally as gentle as his hold. “And here she is, my darling daughter Sreen: arriving almost a month earlier than expected.”

Standing opposite him, her eyes fixed on the newborn cub, the image of Ma’Sala Shall leaned in, as if expecting to be able to catch Sreen’s scent. She too spoke in a soft voice, belying her size and fearsome reputation. “Of course. She may have your surname, but she is still a Shall female. She will come and go at her own time and pace, and not to anyone else’s schedule. And Kami? How is she doing?”

Hrelle’s jaw ached, and he realised it was because he barely stopped grinning over the past three days. “The birth was relatively easy and quick -- I was there for this one this time, along with Sasha, Misha and C’Rash, so we helped with our presence, our scent -- but it still took a lot out of her.”

The Matriarch nodded knowingly. “Premature births always do for us.” She smirked. “Was it set off by rutting?”

Hrelle felt his skin heat up beneath his fur. “Maybe.”

She laughed now. “That’s how Kami arrived two weeks early, after a session I had with both her fathers.” More soberly she asked, “And the Neurodystraxia?”

He swallowed, the fingertips on his free hand reaching up to delicately stroke the strands of honey-blonde fur sticking up on her forehead. “The neural issues seem confined to the major motor functions such as her limbs, rather than affecting her autonomic systems, so she won’t need life support.” He moved his forefinger to her oh-so-tiny hand, watching the stubby fingers twitch as it to instinctively grasp it in her sleep, but failing. “Just an exoframe when she’s mobile and grabby.”

“Esek... there’s a Llalare on his way to you.”

He looked up. “A Llalare?”

Ma’Sala nodded. “Actually, Dr Furore’s much more than that.”

“A doctor?”

“Of Paediatrics, with secondary qualifications in Cub Psychology and Education.”

“Really? He sounds... impressive.”

“He’s cared for the cubs of some of the most prominent clans on our Motherworld. And he has experience helping Neurodystraxics. I’ll send you the details on him.”

“Thanks.”

She studied him curiously. “You don’t want him?”

“No, no, it’s not that. We definitely need someone, not just for her, but for Misha; he’s getting to be a pawful, and needs more formal educational assistance than we can provide. And we’re getting... busier, with the War, and can’t rely on letting crew and cadets take turns to mind them; they didn’t sign up for that. And if I insist on our staying out here, and together, we need someone qualified and exclusively devoted to looking after them.”

“I agree. So what’s with the face like a smacked arse- oh. You would have preferred to be consulted first, is that it?”

He looked up. And didn’t deny it.

“I apologise, Esek, but he became available at short notice, especially with the early birth, and I couldn’t let the opportunity fly by. If it helps salve your pride, remember... I’m still Matriarch. What I say, goes.”

He smiled, showing genuine gratitude now. “And I’ll know he’ll be the best, because nothing’s too good for your grandcubs, right?”

She smiled back. “You learn quickly, Kin-Son.”

He nodded. “Just tell us how much for his services, and Kami and I will-”

“-Will do nothing, it’s already been taken care of through the Clan Treasury. He’s on a Swift, rendezvousing with the Surefoot in 2 days.”

“And he’s okay working on a Starfleet vessel? It’ll be different to any Caitian ships he might have been on.”

Ma’Sala smiled. “He’ll be fine. He’s very easy going. Plays the frettercast. Cubs love him, I’m told.”

“I’ll inform my First Officer, she’ll make the proper berth arrangements for him.” He glanced down at Sreen again. “She’s due for another feeding. Thanks again, Ma’Sala.”

The Matriarch smiled. “Give my best to my daughter... and take care out there, Esek. I love you all.”

*

Commander T’Varik folded her hands behind her. “A Llalare?”

Kami sat up in bed and drew out a breast from her blouse for her newborn daughter. “A Caitian term that describes someone who minds, teaches and cares for cubs, who isn’t bound by kith or kin to the cubs’ clan but usually still lives with them. They’re more than just employees, since they’re being entrusted with cubs: a ‘nanny’ is the closest Standard term to describe it. Well, I can’t say I’m not grateful to Mama.”

The Vulcan nodded. “The quarters I share with Lt Shall are adjacent to yours; with your permission, I will recommend that we move to the quarters opposite, and arrange for a door to be built between it and the cubs’ room, to facilitate access for Dr Furore.”

“A lovely idea, T’Varik, thank you,” Kami smiled, wincing a little as Sreen greedily suckled away. “But aren’t you comfortable where you are?”

“We will of course manage with all due resolve.”

At the desk, Hrelle was studying the personnel file Ma’Sala sent him about Furore, and never looked up. “And by moving across the corridor, you get further away from the inevitable crying, so as not to disturb you and your betrothed during your more amorous moments?”

Kami looked to T’Varik quizzically; the Vulcan said nothing.

Smirking, he threw a vivid from the files up onto the wallscreen. The women looked up to see a lean, young Caitian male, tan- and white-furred but, unusually, with black spots. Dressed in a runner’s vest and shorts, he was recorded racing along a dirt road on a savannah on Cait with ease, while spectators on either side cheered him on.

“Hmm,” Kami noted with interest. “Spots.”

“Mother’s Cubs,” Hrelle muttered. “He’s Spotted.”

“I assume that such a variation is uncommon,” T’Varik opined. “And perhaps comes with a... reputation?”

“Right on both counts,” Kami informed her, pausing to smile down at her daughter. “Spotted Caitians occur in less than 5% of the population, and historically are renowned for being creative, boisterous, eccentric-”

“Clowns,” Hrelle groused, bringing up another vivid, of an older Furore in some classroom, playing the frettercast to a group of cubs sitting in a semi-circle before him, singing along. “And Ma’Sala expects someone like him to be a mature role model-”

“Shush.” Kami studied the scene, nodding with obvious appreciation. “Oh, he’s good. The cubs are drawn to him, and he’s engaging them, encouraging participation.” She pointed up at the screen. “Watch: his emotions are genuine, nothing is faked. And he’s observing all of them, leaving no one out, coaxing the shyer ones into finishing verses.”

“Big fat furry deal,” Hrelle growled under his breath.

The vivid changed to another scene, to what looked like a Caitian medical facility, with Furore fitting an exoframe onto a Caitian male about Misha’s age, with obvious signs of Neurodystraxia, before setting him off on a tentative walk, moving to the other side of the room and patiently encouraging the toddler to let the frame assist him.

And it was working; the toddler moved towards him, faltering at first, but then more quickly as his confidence grew, before collapsing into Furore’s waiting arms, the doctor praising his achievement with sincere affection.

“We’re having that male as our nanny,” Kami announced.

Hrelle couldn’t help but be moved by the scene, by both the cub’s achievement and by the obvious love he received for his efforts from the spotted male, but still managed a grumble. “Well, I suppose he’ll do-”

She looked at her husband now. “It’s adorable that you’re talking like it’s open to debate.” She pointed at the wallscreen. “We’re having that male as our nanny!”

*

“Captain’s Log, Stardate 50619.76: We have undocked from K7 to allow another ship in the Fleet to undergo repair, resupply and refitting, but will remain in the Colonel vicinity with the rest of our ships. We are also about to welcome onboard our new... nanny. I’m sure he’ll be ideal for the role. Absolutely... ideal.”

At her adjacent seat, T’Varik looked at him as he closed his logbook. “A little... peevish, Captain?”

“Me? No, I’m probably just a little tired from the nightly feeding for Sreen. Forgot what that was like when Misha was her age.”

From behind them, Lt Neheru looked up. “Captain, the Caitian Swift has arrived, and is prepared to beam over their passenger.”

Hrelle’s gaze to the vessel of the viewscreen confirmed his Ops Officer’s report, and he rose. “Send my wife and son to Transporter Room 1. T’Varik, let’s welcome Dr Fabulous.”

“I thought his surname was Furore, Sir.”

He shot her a dirty look as they departed the Bridge.

*

Several transporter columns of energy appeared, and for a moment, Hrelle thought the new arrival was bringing along a small team of assistants with him. But it was just his possessions -- including an acoustic frettercast, Hrelle noted sourly.

The nanny himself appeared at the forefront, his scent filling the air, a heady musk of a young, fit, wiry male, probably from the Mlell Peninsula (Who are you kidding? Hrelle asked himself. You know you got that part already from his Bio), with a short, stubby muzzle and ears, and clad in baggy shorts and shirt more appropriate for a beachcomber than a professional, the shirt open and revealing a trim chest with a belly of snow-white fur.

He smiled and opened his arms wide. “Look! I made it with all my bits!” He patted himself down. “At least, I hope I did.” He drew away the waistband of his shorts and peered down the front, nodding with approval. “Yep. Everything’s there.”

Between Hrelle and Kami, Misha giggled.

Hrelle stepped forward, clearing his throat. “Doctor, welcome onboard the Surefoot. I’m-”

But the younger male dropped to one knee in front of Misha, holding out his arms for a hug. “You must be Captain Hrelle!” As Misha moved in to hug back, he continued. “I’ve heard so much about you, Captain, Sir! It’ll be a pleasure serving under you!” He drew back, indicating Hrelle now. “Is he your assistant? He looks just like you, but much bigger.”

“He’s my Papa!” Misha clarified, laughing. “He’s Captain!”

“Oh? Well, I’ll bet they only let him be Captain because he can get things from high shelves. I guess you’re Misha, then. Which makes me... Jhess!” He rose again and hugged Hrelle without preamble. “Delighted, excited and amazed to meet you, Esek! If half the stories I’ve heard about you are true, we are going to have so much fun together!”

Before Hrelle could respond, Furore moved to Kami, who was cradling a swaddled Sreen. Instead of boisterously hugging her, however, he smiled, took her hand and rubbed it against his muzzle, his voice low and measured so as not to alarm the cub. “And I am honoured to meet a fellow professional, Kami, especially one with your experience and qualifications. I read your last article in the Journal of Interspecies Medicine two months ago on Caitian Pheromone Withdrawal, by the way, and found it fascinating; I’m looking forward to learning more from you.”

Hrelle growled, but she ignored her husband to smile at Jhess and reply, “Thank you, Doctor.”

He released her hand. “It’s ‘Jhess’ for you, too; if you start using my title around here, I might be expected to do real work.”

“Of course, Jhess.” She indicated her infant. “And this is Sreen.”

The male focused on the tiny furry bundle, her huge bronze eyes opening to look back up at him. He leaned in slightly, breathing in her scent, and then whispered to her, “My Lady, there’s something you need to know before we go on: you’re perfect. You’re absolutely perfect. And I’ll fight anyone who says differently. That’s no lie.”

The infant began purring, bringing on a delighted grin from her mother.

Furore grinned too as he stepped back, and Hrelle indicated the Vulcan on his other side. “And this is my First Officer, Commander T’Varik. She is also a part of our family, first as Misha’s Godmother, and now she has agreed to perform the same role for Sreen.”

Furore drew up to T’Varik, hugging her as well, before drawing back, sniffing and smiling. “T’Varik... I think I love you. Will you marry me?”

Misha giggled again.

“No,” she replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

His smile dropped, and his jaw quivered as if he was ready to cry. “Oh. I’m a broken male now.”

Misha leaned forward and informed him, “Godmama’s marrying Cousin C’Rash!”

“Is she?” Furore looked back at T’Varik, nodding sagely at the news. “Well, I’m glad to hear that you’ve finally managed to put what we had together behind you, and find true love again.”

She folded her hands behind her back. “The long nights alone without you were the most difficult, but I persevered.”

Furore was taken aback by the response, and offered her an appreciative smile. “Oh, I’ll have to watch myself around you, T’Varik! You are definitely no ordinary Vulcan!” He looked back at the other adults. “It’s a genuine joy to be accepted by all of you. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Hrelle cleared his throat again. “Yes, well, there are a number of briefings for you to undergo-”

“Do you have kitchen facilities onboard?”

He blinked. “Kitchen? Yes, in the Officer’s Mess-”

“How aptly named! That’s what I always leave behind.” He turned, picked up several bags he slung over his shoulder, and turned back. “I brought some fresh produce direct from Cait, let’s all go there, I’ll whip us up a quick Mrada Stir Fry-” He paused to look at T’Varik and add, “Vegetarian, of course; I haven’t forgotten your preferences, darling,” before turning back to the others. “While you brief me, question me, torture me, tickle me, do what you must. Just don’t forget me.” He grinned. “As if such a thing were possible.”

“Standard procedure for newly-arrived civilian staff onboard starships is strict, Dr Furore,” T’Varik informed him archly.

“And it was T’Plana-Hath, Matron of Vulcan Philosophy, who pointed out, ‘The Universe is merciless to those unable to adapt.’“ He winked at the raised eyebrow she gave in response to his quote. “And it’s tradition for a guest at a Caitian household to cook the first meal for his hosts.”

“He’s right about that, T’Varik,” Kami confirmed, smiling. “And he’s not like other civilian staff, as he’ll be working directly for Esek and myself.”

T’Varik sighed and looked to Hrelle. “I will of course accede to the wishes of our Commanding Officer.”

But Hrelle just shrugged. “Don’t look at me, they only let me be Captain to get things from high shelves.”

*

Furore had Misha standing on a stool at the table, carefully chopping up stalks of ninshoots with a safety knife, while the older male prepared the bulk of the food, inveigling Hrelle into peeling and cubing some sweetbulbs, while Furore made sure Kami and Sreen were seated. “My last job was at New Landing, taking care of the cubs of Governor La’Tahn; adorable little bundles of fun, they were. But then they started off for school, and I was considering a position at a Paediatrics Clinic at Hria, when Fleet Captain Shall contacted me-” He paused, reached out and stopped Misha, repositioning the food and knife. “Hold it like I showed you, it’ll cut easier and safer. Misha Fingers are not in the recipe.”

Kami had started nursing again. “We saw vivids of you in some marathon. Was it Hsova?”

He looked up, blowing a raspberry. “The Hsova Run of 2357; I was the tender age of 16, just before I started my undergraduate work.” He moved to the nearby replicator, saying over his shoulder. “My marathon days are long past. I’ve piled on the kilos since then.”

Hrelle turned to glance at the male’s muscular rear, where his thin, spotted tail swished as he fed the replicator instructions. “Mind telling me where you have those kilos cloaked on you, Stringbean?”

Furore laughed and returned with a tall and short glass of thick dark purple liquid, topped with straws. “Tavaberry smoothies.” He set the tall one in front of Kami. “Because you need to replenish the nutrients you’re feeding My Lady there.” He set the short one in front of Misha. “And because you need a purple tongue.”

As mother and son partook, and Furore gathered up the vegetables and threw them into the nearby wok, Hrelle watched him and said, “Doctor-”

“Jhess, please, Esek. Would you believe it’s short for ‘Jhesster’?”

“Yes,” T’Varik replied, deadpan.

“Flirt,” Jhess winked.

Hrelle remained unmoved by the banter. “Jhess... I don’t know if Ma’Sala explained it, but you need to be aware that though we’re primarily an ambulance vessel, we will still be going into combat zones.”

“Combat, huh?” He opened a small case onto the table, revealing a set of spices and sauces of varied colours. “Sounds exciting. Can you replicate some bowls and utensils please?”

Hrelle paused as he stood up, but then proceeded. “There’s nothing ‘exciting’ about combat. It’s chaotic, and brutal, and dangerous, and-”

“-And your department, Esek.” He began adding sauces and spices to the mix in the wok. “I have a few talents, but one of them isn’t commanding a starship in battle. Whatever we might face out here, I trust you’ll keep us as safe as you can.” He started up the wok and reached for some utensils. “I’ll let you do your job, and you let me do mine.”

Just as the door to the Mess Hall slid open, and Lt C’Rash Shall walked in, taking in the scene. “I was looking for our new arrival in the Ready Room, Sir.”

Hrelle returned to the table with the bowls and utensils. “We decided to have the initial briefing here. Doctor- Jhess, this is-”

“Lieutenant Shall, Chief of Security,” Furore finished, rushing up and hugging C’Rash warmly. The coal-furred Caitian stiffened, but relented as Furore drew back, grinning. “I caught your scent on your lovely partner. Misha informed me that you two are engaged -- you and T’Varik, of course, not you and your cousin, Misha is having far too much fun staying single -- and I wanted to express my congratulations! Come on in, you’re just in time for some stir fry- Oh, the stir fry!” He rushed back to the sizzling wok and resumed stirring. “Esek, the bowls, please!”

Hrelle stopped himself, before catching Kami smirking at his curmudgeonly attitude. Moments later, everyone but Furore was sitting before bowls of food, the new arrival moving over to Kami, who had stopped feeding Sreen. “Here, let me hold her, give your arm a rest. I’m too excited being here to eat anyway!”

Kami looked up to him, and did so, watching how carefully he settled Sreen against his shoulder, gently patting her on the back to burp her as he looked around at them. “Please, eat! Eat!”

C’Rash watched him intently too. “And how long have you been taking care of cubs, Doctor?”

“It’s Jhess,” he corrected gently, nuzzling the infant as he moved around the table. “Everyone onboard has to call me ‘Jhess’. Well, I got my degree in Paediatrics at the Academy in Mlell almost ten years ago, had a residency in K’Grurri where I specialised in Neurodystraxia and Exoframe Therapy, earned additional qualifications-”

“And what did you specialise in when you were in the Militia?”

Furore stopped and seemed to regard her. “The Militia? I wasn’t in the Militia, C’Rash, Darling, though the Academy was near the Militia base there.” He grinned. “Can you imagine me trying to be disciplined enough for military duty? I can’t even manage to wear matching socks, when I do wear them!” He stopped at Misha, leaned in and admonished, “Swallow what you’ve got in there already before shovelling more in; it’s not a race.”