Surefoot 47: The Nanny State

Misha nodded in acquiescence, his muzzle full of food.

“You seem very... fit for a civilian,” C’Rash noted.

“Well, thank you, my ebon-furred beauty! Keep this up and you’ll give me Happy Tail!” Now he leaned towards T’Varik, who had been tentatively trying the stir fry. “You’d best be careful with her, I might have to try to woo her from you.”

C’Rash bristled, but T’Varik remained composed. “After this concession to Caitian tradition, I will conduct you on a tour of this vessel, identifying the areas restricted for you, as well as introducing you to the key personnel with whom you may be interacting, such as the medical staff, who will run a preliminary examination. You will also need to complete mandatory briefings on safety procedures, evacuation protocols-”

“Sounds exhausting,” Furore noted. “I’m going to have to unwind after all that. Is there a place for meditation onboard?”

“The Arboretum is often used for such purposes.”

He smiled. “Sounds ideal. Now, if only I had someone to show me the way...”

Misha, still eating, raised his hand and made attention-seeking noises.

“Well, looks like I’ve got a guide.” Furore then looked down at Sreen. “And it sounds like we’ve got a burp!”

“Captain,” C’Rash said. “May I speak with you outside, please?”

Hrelle nodded, reacting to her formality, as he rose and followed her out into the corridor, waiting until the door slid shut before asking, “What’s up?”

She nodded back towards the Mess Hall, her fur raised. “What do you know about him?”

He frowned back. “Apart from what you’ve heard from him just now? Ma’Sala sent him. He has excellent references. He seems overly qualified even for a Llalare, but then he’ll be treating a cub with Neurodystraxia, and it would be just like Ma’Sala to send us someone with his pedigree for her grandcub. He’s annoyingly skinny... and annoying in general, at least to me, but everyone else seems to like him. Don’t you?”

She grunted, bristling. “When he hugged me, there was... something, something about the way he held himself. Someone very much in control, with muscle memory. Someone with more to him than taking care of cubs and running. Don’t you sense it?”

He tilted his head in the direction of the Mess Hall, as if he could see through the walls. “To be honest, he’s been raising my hackles from the start... but since the birth, and having interrupted sleep patterns to feed Sreen, I’ve been off my game a little, and I figured my responses to him were because of that.”

He looked at her again. “Run some security checks, go through Starfleet Intelligence, the Federation database, Caitian Local Authorities. Shake the tall grass, and see what you can scare out, if anything. You have my authorisation... but keep this between us for now. I don’t want your aunt to think that I’m not grateful for Ma’Sala sending him.”

“Aye, Sir.”

“And get on it right away; if Doctor Fabulous in there is hiding something, I want to know what it is.”

She nodded and departed towards the Bridge. Hrelle returned to the Mess Hall, where Furore had produced his frettercast, and was now singing the old children’s song Hnall and His Crooked Tail.

“Hnall and his Crooked Tail

Went racing round the tree,

Trying to catch the cheeky cub

That only he could see

But when he caught his tail and pulled

It hurt! What could it be?

‘Mama! I think the cheeky cub

I caught is me!’”

Next to his mother, Misha looked up wide-eyed and informed her, “Mama! Mama! He was chasing his own tail! And he didn’t know!“

Kami grinned at her son’s revelation. “Really?” She looked to T’Varik, who was holding Sreen now. “I bet you didn’t see that coming, did you?”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “It was an anagnorisis worthy of Aristotle.” Then she looked down, to see Sreen was moving her head towards T’Varik’s breast. “I am sorry, Goddaughter, but you will not get any nourishment from mine.”

Misha guffawed. “Godmama’s boobs aren’t for you, Sreen! They’re for Cousin C’Rash!”

“Misha!” Kami scolded -- while trying not to laugh out loud, a task that Jhess utterly failed at, while Kami looked to T’Varik. “Sorry about that.”

But the Vulcan appeared unoffended. “My Godson is not... entirely inaccurate in his assessment.”

Hrelle continued to stare. The male seemed so open, so genuine. Before, he was willing to dismiss his own qualms about Furore.

Now...

*

Sreen looked up with wide-eyed wonder at the huge faces surrounding her on either side of the Sickbay biobed. Furore leaned in, looking down with deep regard, his expression serious. “She’s very deficient.”

Beside him, Kami frowned with worry. “Deficient?”

He nodded sombrely. “A severe lack of Belly Berries.” Then he bent down, pressed his snout on Sreen’s furred belly and blew raspberries, inducing pleasing sounds in the infant.

He drew back again. “There: I think we took care of it in time. But we’ll have to watch out for that in future.”

On the other side of the biobed, Dr Masterson chuckled. “Don’t recall reading that in any of my medical texts, Pardner.”

“You have to specialise.” Furore smiled at Sreen -- but kept glancing up at the readings over the head of the biobed. “Expected Neurodystraxic pathologies in the thoracoabdomianl branches: illiolinguinal, illiohypogastric, theobronchial, obturator, charictor, sacral plexus-” He smiled. “Nothing wrong with the coccygian region, however.” He glanced at Kami. “My Lady’s gonna have a very waggy tail, with no hiding anything from her Mama and Papa. And her peripheral neural branches are fine, so her skin will be as sensitive as anyone else’s.”

“I’ve been reading up on the condition since I first made the diagnosis, Doc,” Masterson noted. “I was wondering about the possibility of cybernetic neural bridging implants-”

“It was tried a few years ago, Zeke,” Furore replied absently, keeping his eyes locked on Sreen as he danced his fingertips along the length of her body. “The results were poor in any but adults with severe Neurodystraxia, given how quickly the cubs grow and develop. And Caitians have a historical antipathy towards cybernetics and nanotechnology anyway. Exoframes with tactile interfaces and adjustable antigrav balancers have proven the best way forward for my people.”

Masterson took that in. “Well, it’ll be mighty fine having another professional around, especially one who can manage the Little Critters.” He paused as one of his nurses handed him a PADD. “Well, Jhessie, the results of your physical have come back. You’re fit as a fiddle-” Then he frowned. “But how did you get those old thoron burns on your back and hips? I’ve only ever seen that from folk wounded from disruptor fire.”

Furore never took his eyes off of his patient, but laughed. “Goodness, Zeke, I wish it had been that exciting! No, you can blame those burns on a faulty thoron generator exploding at Mlell Academy. I mostly recovered... but it ended my marathon days.”

“Ahh. And these suppressed areas in your memory engrams from around the same time are a part of that incident?”

The Caitian male nodded. “Part of the therapy, helping to suppress the traumatic memories of the accident.” He sighed. “I took it badly at the time.”

Masterson nodded too, updating the PADD with the information. “Thanks for that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another argument to break up between some of my other doctors.”

“It’ll be a pleasure working with you, Zeke -- and duetting with you on your guitar later!” Furore turned back to Kami. “Okay, Mama, time to teach you a few things.”

The adults switched places, as Furore took the Counselor’s hands in her own. “Now, I know that at this stage, you won’t be needing any encouragement to be getting hold of your newborn cub, but there’s a few exercises you’ll need to perform with My Lady while doing it, 8-10 times a day, so her muscles will be developed enough for when she’s ready for her first exoframe, as her natural motility will be restricted.”

He guided her hands through a series of gentle exercises for Sreen’s arms, neck, ankles, wrists, neck and hips. “And of course, throughout you’re encouraged to talk to her, purr, sing...” He released his touch, letting her continue. “These exercises can be done by yourself, Esek, T’Varik, C’Rash, even Misha; I’ll teach them. And of course I’ll be doing it while all of you are working or studying.”

Kami nodded as she did so -- but her expression betrayed her true feelings, as tears welled up in her eyes. “She’s- She’s-”

Furore leaned in, putting a reassuring arm around her and murmuring, “Listen to me, Kami: in the last decade, I’ve cared for many cubs of all shapes and sizes. So I can say with all certainty that Sreen is going to grow up and knock the Galaxy on its furry ass. And you, as her Mama, will look back on this day, and know that it all began here, with what you’re doing now to help her get there.” He paused and added, “And if you’re anything like my Mama was, you’ll remind her. Constantly.“

Kami laughed.

So did Sreen.

*

Hrelle found no one in his quarters that evening when his shift ended, but heard noises through the door to the cub’s room, and entered -- only to find no one there, but the new door to Furore’s adjacent quarters open, and his family in with the new Llalare, who had already redecorated with items from home, and now sat around a small table playing cards (except for Sreen, who sat secure in a portable infant’s chair Hrelle didn’t recognise, watching the proceedings). Misha looked up from behind his cards, beside a stack of sagabeans representing winnings, beaming. “Papa! I’m playing Purr-Prowl-Pounce!”

Kami looked up as well, smiling. “Our son has proven quite gifted at this. He plays aggressively; his Grandpa Mi’Tree will be proud.”

As if in illustration, Misha leaned forward, declared, “Pounce!” and took one of the cards from his mother’s hand for his own, slamming down a Three of Stars from his own hand onto the table in exchange.

Jhess folded his own hand onto the table and rose. “And I’m regretting teaching him; he’s cleaned me out of all my sagabeans. I think you should take over, Esek.”

“Yeah, Papa!” Misha agreed. “I beat you, too!”

Hrelle’s smile dropped; he wanted to teach his son Purr-Prowl-Pounce... when the cub was old enough. Something else you’ve missed out on, Esek, he reminded himself, forcing a smile as he approached the table. “We’ll see about, Cub of Mine-”

Then he stopped as his combadge chirped, and T’Varik’s voice filled the air. “Captain, apologies, I know you’ve just completed your shift, but we have received orders to leave the Fleet immediately and rendezvous with the refugee ship USS Azimech.”

He blinked. Since the hostilities in the Quadrant, there had been a rapid increase in older passenger and freighter vessels being refitted and conscripted as refugee ships. “Any particular reason why we’re meeting them, Commander?”

“No, Sir, though presumably details will be provided by Admiral Tattok. He awaits you on a secure channel.”

He ground his teeth. “I’ll take it in my Ready Room. Hrelle out.” He looked to the other Caitians. “Sorry, folks, Duty Calls. I don’t know how long I’ll be, so carry on-”

Kami rose up and rubbed her muzzle against his. “I hope it’s not too critical.”

“Me, too.” He looked to Misha. “Sorry I can’t stay and play, son.”

The cub never looked up from his cards. “S’Okay, Papa, Jhess here. Don’t need you.”

Hrelle blinked. “Oh. Good.” He nodded to the other male and marched to the nearest door.

He heard the door open behind him as he stormed down the corridor, and his ears and nose told him who was catching up. Kami grabbed his elbow to stop him. “Hey-”

He shook off her hold. “Admiral Tattok’s waiting for me.”

“The Gnome can wait a minute longer.” She caught his gaze, her expression consoling. “Now, you know your son didn’t mean that the way it came out-”

“No, of course not.”

“So there’s no reason to react like you’re being replaced in any way by Jhess.”

“None whatsoever.”

“Misha is going to be excited by the new arrival, but the novelty will quickly wear off when he has to start taking formal lessons and knuckle down.”

“Absolutely.”

She stared at him for a moment before quipping, “Well, I’m so glad we’ve had this mature, productive chat, Husband of Mine. Best run off now while you’ve still got a fresh sulk on.” She started back, but then stopped and advised, “Oh, and if you’re late, and Jhess and I have gone to bed together, go sleep on the couch, okay?”

He made a familiar cocktail shaking gesture with his right hand.

She remained unimpressed. “I’m glad you still remember how to do that; keep this up and it’ll be a permanent part of your nightly routine.”

He watched her return to Jhess’ quarters, accepting that she was being perfectly sensible, reasonable and right.

It was damned annoying.

*

The image on the screen was that a standard cigar-shaped starship with stubby warp nacelles mounted on the aft section. Hrelle leaned back in his chair. “This is the USS Azimech, a medium-level passenger liner now contracted by the Federation Refugee Council to assist in the evacuation and transport of Federation citizens. Or in this case, former Federation citizens.”

Standing beside T’Varik, Masterson echoed, “Former?”

“Given recent events,” T’Varik opined, “One can infer that the Azimech is transporting the surviving members of the Maquis from the Demilitarised Zone near the Cardassian Border.”

“Most of them won’t be Maquis,” Hrelle corrected, his stomach churning with the memory of the details of the reports coming out of the DMZ. “Just ordinary people who refused to leave their homes and colonies. Not that the Cardassians and their new masters will care.”

He was still stunned that the Cardassians’ new leader, Dukat, had made good on his promise to sweep the DMZ clean of the Maquis presence once and for all. But he had -- but with the assistance of the Dominion’s Jem’Hadar, and the cost of untold numbers of innocent lives, whether they were actually Maquis or not, but just unfortunate enough not to get away in time.

“Where are they headed, Sir?” Neheru, who, along with the other duty officer, Velkovsky, asked.

“The Azimech is transporting them to Jaros II, where everyone will be vetted to see who might secretly be Starfleet personnel who deserted to join the Maquis, and be tried and imprisoned at the Starfleet stockade there.”

Now Velkovsky spoke up. “After all they’ve been through, they’re still gonna face trial? They weren’t pirates or terrorists!”

“Except for when they deserted, and used their Starfleet knowledge and training and committed acts of piracy and terrorism, raiding Starfleet vessels and installations for weapons and supplies. And their actions inevitably exacerbated the conflict within the Demilitarised Zone, thus provoking the Cardassians towards this Final Solution.”

The blonde human’s face flushed with anger, and Neheru placed a hand on her shoulder as she demanded, “Are you blaming them for being massacred-”

Hrelle rapped his knuckles on his desk, ending the argument and regaining the attention. “It’s too late in the evening for me to be arguing politics. There’s been an outbreak of what the onboard medical staff believe is Larosian Fever. About eight infected, so far. They’re reluctant to keep them onboard, as most of the refugees, being where they were, won’t be fully inoculated against it, and the Azimech doesn’t have the facilities to mass-replicate the necessary vaccine.”

Masterson nodded. “With the numbers onboard, and the virulence of Larosian Fever, the risk of outbreak will be high.”

“So we’re going to collect the infected, isolate and treat them in Sickbay Three, run a sweep of the rest of the Azimech for more victims, replicate and supply them with vaccines and anything else they might need. We arrive in 14 hours; recheck everyone’s immunisation records onboard, make sure those who need boosters get them before we arrive. Dismissed.”

The others departed -- but T’Varik remained, waiting until the Ready Room door slid shut before offering, “Captain, if I may, you seem troubled. Is it the nature of our mission with the Maquis? I recall your prior encounter with them and Mr Bowie-”

He switched off the display. “No; I hold no grudges against them. And though I never supported their actions, I certainly don’t support what has happened to them now.” He rubbed at his eyes. “It’s the new Nanny... or rather, it’s my reaction to him. My hackles rise.”

Something like amusement almost crossed T’Varik’s expression. “He is an acquired taste.”

“But I’m reacting more sharply than I expected. I have C’Rash checking up on his background. I’m trying to find something wrong with him. Some excuse to... send him away. Then-”

“Then your abnormally-heightened protective nature will be sated?” T’Varik suggested.

He looked up, making a sound. “Heightened?”

The Vulcan folded her hands behind her. “It is logical that your current behaviour is due to post-partum pheromones Kami will be producing, making you more territorial regarding a strange male in your midst.”

He blinked. Yes... Yes, it was obvious! Of course, he was probably the same when Misha was born, but unlike then, there were no adult Caitian males nearby... “How do you know so much about that?”

“Since my engagement to your niece, I have been learning more about Caitian physiology, psychology and customs. It seemed logical to be prepared to understand the... singular habits of your people.”

He nodded, smiling. “Thank you for your insight, T’Varik. I might go for a suppressant before I retire for the evening. Dismissed.” But as she nodded back and turned towards the door, he added, “Oh, Commander?” When she turned around again, he asked, “Does this mean that when you marry C’Rash, you’re gonna start calling me ‘Uncle Esek’, too?”

She stayed silent and glared at him.

“Never mind,” he finished, shooing her towards the door again.

*

His quarters were dark when he finally returned, and he smelled his wife was in bed, asleep, but he heard a soft lullaby from the cub monitor nearby, and he strode up to the cub’s room door and let it slide open.

It was also dark in here, though his Caitian vision and hearing guided him around. Misha was asleep in his bed, snoring away, so Hrelle’s attention focused on Furore, sitting in a chair near the open doorway to his own quarters. He was feeding Sreen with a tiny bottle, and singing a soothing lullaby Hrelle didn’t recognise:

“When you’re so lonely

Lying in bed

Night’s closed its eyes

But you can’t rest your head

Everyone’s sleeping,

All through the house

You wish you could dream

But forgot to somehow

Sing this lullaby to yourself

Sing this lullaby to yourself...”

Hrelle stood and listened attentively, observing how easily the other male managed his daughter. Then Furore set aside the emptied bottle and rose, carefully supporting the swaddled infant as he murmured, “Come here, Esek. She needs burping.”

Hrelle complied, his suspicions waved aside as he sensed his cubs were in no danger. Sreen gurgled as Furore handed over the precious cargo, instructing, “Careful, she needs more support around the neck than a normal cub.”

Hrelle suppressed a flash of anger at the words -- he knew what to do with his own cub, damn it! -- before acknowledging the wisdom behind the words.

Sreen began purring at she took in her Papa’s scent.

“That’s it,” Furore whispered encouragingly, as Hrelle gently patted the infant’s back. “You’re marvellous with your cubs, Esek. Misha doesn’t stop talking about you.”