Surefoot 49: Tooth and Claw

Sasha nodded at that. "You're too used to saying what's on your mind, Chief, you're a crap liar. I'll be back before we're arrive; you have the Bridge until then." She looked around once more... and then at the stains on the floor-

[the flesh tore under the claws tore like paper like old cloth blood down her face into her eyes]

She quickened her pace to her quarters, almost stumbling over her own boots before she entered her bathroom and began dry heaving into her toilet.

Seven Hells... she swore she could still taste the blood in her mouth. Even the horrible stomach acid she brought up couldn't shake it.

She lay motionless for an indefinite amount of time, before finally, weakly helping herself back up to her feet, swaying clumsily towards the mirror, looking-

Almost the right half of her head was nearly hairless, leaving a buzz cut that still displayed claw marks and the thin, residual scar of her repaired scalp. Her left half still sported a full strawberry-blonde mane, but now looked so incongruous.

She stared blankly at herself.

She had to get them all back. Captain Weynik had been so good, so supportive and loyal to her, teaching her so much since her arrival, showing so much trust and confidence in her abilities. And Shanek, Grel and even little Darren Bump had become good friends. None of them should be POWs.

And Tan... he was too decent, too loving, too valuable, not just to his wife and cub, but to all his people.

All their people.

She shuffled back into the main quarters, retrieving her medical kit and finding within a dermal toner beam, normally used to remove scar tissue and bruises.

Then she returned with it to the bathroom, leaning against her sink to peer at this open canvas that had become the right side of her head, already formulating a plan.

Ten minutes after she was done, and approved of her self-modifications, she retrieved her sword... and stopped.

Oh God, she was gonna die today.

She knew it. Today was finally her day.

And unlike the Klingons, today did not feel like a good day to die. No day did.

Sasha's heart raced, her breathing doubled, she was shaking, losing control of her grip on her sword- no no no no no no no-

Iray...

She heard Ctuuri, his voice, his calmness, seeping into her, beckoning her to follow his lead. She drew out the blade, and adopted the first exercise stance: sword held straight out, perpendicular to her chest, eyes forward, legs parted.

Roa...

She changed positions, stepping forward, blade raised in a forty-five degree angle.

Telo...

Efatra...

Dimy...

Each adoption of the moves of the Kaetini training exercise centred her more and more, calming her more and more.

Enina...

Valo...

And at the end, she repeated the sequence, her moves becoming more assured, more natural. Her fears, her pain, were acknowledged, and then set aside. They would only help so much.

She was Sasha Hrelle of Clan Shall.

She was Kaetini.

And she had a job to do.

*

Shanek stood at the door to the Ferasan cell where he and the others had been placed, calmly gripping the bars and testing their strength once more, measuring the resistance.

Behind him, Grel and Bump sat on the single bench, the former asking, "You're wasting your time, Vulcan."

Shanek didn't stop his efforts. "We are fortunate in having nothing but time."

The young human beside Grel was downcast. "What happened to Lt Hrelle and Ms Kohanim? What did Major Ctuuri give them?"

Shanek applied 15% more physical effort towards testing the strength of the bars. "Logic suggests it was a personal transporter device of some sort."

"That's not possible!"

"The evidence would argue against that, Ensign Bump."

"And where would Major Ctuuri get his hands on something like that?" Grel demanded.

"Presumably from the same source that supplied the Prowl?" He increased his efforts another 12%, noting a higher than expected protest from his muscles. "It is best not to waste time speculating, and work on a plan of liberating ourselves."

"Is that right?" Grel demanded gruffly. "And how is your current plan of scowling at the bars working out?"

Shanek increased his grip until his muscles ached to an appreciable degree. "It is not scowling. It is testing the strength of the alloy employed."

"I see. And have you learned anything useful?"

"Yes: I believe with sufficient application of strength, we can break free of this cell in approximately 19.32 hours."

His fellow captors looked up at him without comment.

Outside, a door slid open, and two Ferasans dragged an unconscious Weynik in, one of the felinoids growling, "Come on, stop dawdling, I don't want to miss the Feast."

"I do not dawdle," his companion declared. "He is heavier than he looks."

Grel and Bump joined Shanek at their cell door, the Tellarite demanding, "What did you do to our Captain?"

The Ferasans ignored them, opening the cell opposite and dropping the Roylan inside before shutting the door again.

Shanek regarded Weynik, noting he was alive, but unconscious, with bruising to the face. "Under the Treaty of Sirius, Prisoners of War require access to-"

The first Ferasan hissed at him. "Tell it to the Dominion, Vegetarian, they own you now." He and his brother moved to the exit.

"Where is Major Ctuuri?" Shanek called after them.

One of the Ferasans glanced over his shoulder as they departed. "He's helping us with our Victory Feast!" Their laughter continued as the doors slid shut.

The captives were silent now, until Bump asked, "What did he mean by that?"

Shanek didn't respond, except to find the inner strength to double his efforts against the bars, allowing him not to focus on the possible fate of the Caitian officer.

*

Sasha was later than she had planned returning to the Bridge, having made a detour to the Security Section to obtain further items and confirm Crewman Roth was ready with her rescue party and understood her orders.

Sasha saw the reactions of everyone to her new look, and additions to her uniform, but no one said anything to her until she entered the Bridge and Maryk turned in the Captain's Chair, looked at her and asked, "Are you sure you were cleared by Sickbay, Lieutenant?"

Sasha stopped, adjusting the Kaetini sword strapped to the back of her armoured vest, turning her head this way and that as if to display the red pawprint she had applied to the centre of her shaven half-scalp, and the matching war stripes on her face where she had been clawed. "Status, Chief?"

The older woman rose to her feet. "We're two minutes from the Blacktalon. Long range sensors have detected three Jem'Hadar vessels also on approach, bearing 112 Mark 047-"

"Time until their arrival?"

"At current speeds, approximately twenty minutes."

Sasha stepped down to the Captain's Chair. "Red Alert." As the klaxon sounded and the strip of apple-red lighting around the ceiling of the Bridge came to life, she added, "Mr Madison, did you complete the necessary adjustments to the Prowl?"

He looked up from his station, his thoughts about her current appearance and possible state of mind evident in his expression, but his professionalism winning over. "Yes, Ma'am. All ready."

"Activate it. Mr Atkinson, take us on a course parallel to the Blacktalon, five kilometres distant, matching their speed so as not to disturb their warpfield. Mr Gallagher, scan their vessel for non-Ferasan lifesigns, using the coherent neutrino beam, it will be less likely to be picked up by the enemy. Hrelle to Crewman Roth: are you and your team at the Transporter, Emily?"

"Yes, Ma'am, ready and waiting."

"Good, stand by." Sasha turned to Maryk again. "My appearance is deliberate, Chief. I want to intimidate the Ferasans."

The Russian grunted. "Well, it's certainly scaring the hell out of me."

Sasha offered a slight smile. "Well, if I have that effect on you, then I'll make them soil their fur. Where are they keeping our crew, Mr Gallagher?"

The young Irishman frowned to himself. "I believe I've found most of them, Lieutenant, in a secure facility with transporter inhibitors nearby! Roylan, Tellarite, Vulcan, Human-"

"There's a Caitian as well, Mr Gallagher. Where is Major Ctuuri?"

"It's difficult to pinpoint him, Lieutenant; Caitians and Ferasans are too close. Most of the Ferasans have congregated in a main assembly area on their ship, beneath that dome. He might be there."

Sasha looked up at the viewscreen, imagining the Ferasans tormenting Ctuuri for their own amusement now- no. They were burning away what precious little time they had remaining before the Jem'Hadar arrive... and she really would be forced to leave the captives behind.

She turned back to Maryk. "I'm beaming over with Roth and the security team, but my job will be to locate Major Ctuuri.

The safety of the captives and this ship takes priority. If you or the Captain find it necessary to leave the Major and me behind, you do it. Is that understood?"

Maryk looked ready to argue the point, but instead nodded. "Aye, Ma'am. Good luck."

Sasha grunted. No attitude from the Chief.

She really was doomed.

*

Weynik stirred, bolted upright on the floor of his cell, immediately taking in his surroundings, and ignoring the pain in the side of his head where he had been kicked.

"Captain?" Shanek, confined across from him, spoke up, prompting Grel and Bump to join him at the bars.

Weynik rose to his feet, examining the bars of his cell door, the distance between them. "Report."

The Vulcan responded. "You were brought in here unconscious approximately 25.2 minutes ago. We have been attempting to devise a means of escape during our captivity, with little success."

Grel harrumphed. "By Little, Captain, he means None."

Weynik touched the bars, easily slipping his right leg out between two of them. "Has there been any sign of Major Ctuuri?"

There was a shift in Shanek's expression. "Nothing has been confirmed regarding his status, Sir, though the Ferasans have made vague threats regarding his fate, threats I assume are meant merely to intimidate us."

Weynik stopped and glanced at his Ops officer, having learned a little more about the Ferasans than the Vulcan did. Now he slipped his right arm out to join his leg. "Gentlemen, did you know that 98.4% of the known sentient bipedal races conform to an average height of 1.6 metres?"

Shanek watched his Captain squeeze between the bars. "I... was not aware of that, Sir."

Weynik grunted as he met resistance with his chest and rear end. You need to cut out the snacks, or you'll end up like Esek. "Something to do with the mean gravity of most Class-M worlds and the optimum evolutionary dynamics of height and the positioning of sensory organs to detect threats." He felt greater resistance with his head, and his swept-back fins, even with pivoting.

Until he worked seldom-employed muscles to compact them and give himself greater maneuverability, a holdover from his distant aquatic ancestors' need to hide in crevices from predators swimming around them. It hurt, but then so would staying in there waiting to be turned over to the Dominion. "In short - so to speak - evolution suggests Bigger is Better."

He slipped out completely from his cell. "Evolution can be wrong."

Bump brightened. "You did it, Captain! That was amazing!"

Weynik strode up to the locking mechanism on their door. "You think that's amazing, Ensign, wait 'til you see what I can do with my mucus."

But then he reacted to the sound of shouts and shots from the adjacent room. He motioned for his captive officers to step back while he took a defensive stance-

-In time for a Ferasan guard to race in, looking behind him and not noticing Weynik until the Roylan flipped him over his shoulder, driving a heavy fist into the Ferasan's kidneys and other nerve cluster areas, before turning and preparing to deal with the next one.

But instead, Security Crewman Emily Roth appeared, clad in body armour and wielding Starfleet-issue ballistic pistols. "Sir! Are you and the others alright?"

Weynik nodded, returning to the fallen Ferasan and frisking him for the cell door key. "Report!"

"Lt Hrelle beamed back to the Ajax with Lt Cmdr Kohanim and stopped the Ferasans trying to take over the Bridge. She was severely injured, Chief Maryk took command and was taking us back to the Fleet, but Lt Hrelle released herself from Sickbay, took command back, turned us around and planned this rescue."

Bloody Hemra, Sash, at this rate you'll make Admiral before I do... He rose with a key and opened the doors to his officers' cell. "Did she come with you?"

Roth was handing out enhanced transporter tags. "Aye, Sir, she's looking for Major Ctuuri, in a central area where most of the Ferasans have gathered. And Sir, there are three Jem'Hadar ships on their way, ETA approximately twelve minutes."

"Understood. Give me your communicator and pistol, Crewman, and return to the ship with the others. Mr Shanek, inform Chief Maryk to wait for the signal to beam us back, but if she doesn't hear from us before the Jem'Hadar arrive, to leave."

"Sir, request permission to accompany you to rescue Lt Hrelle and Major Ctuuri," Shanek volunteered.

"Same here, Sir," Grel added.

Bump, Roth and the rest of the rescue team followed suit.

He grunted, checking the ballistic pistol; it had been a while since he'd trained on one of these. "Thank you, all of you, but no. Now get going." He raced down the central corridor, already having a horrible, horrible feeling about how this was going to turn out.

*

Sasha strode forward, finding no Ferasans along the way to give warning. Her heart was racing, but she kept her pace, using the Kitaeni mantras Tan taught her.

You had better be alive, Mister. Your wife and cub are expecting you back. And so am I. You owe us, as well as yourself, to survive.

The final doors parted to reveal an open area with tables and chairs, beneath a canopy of transparent material revealing the local starscape. The air here was filled with the scents of meat and spices and the sounds of laughter and revelry from the dozens of Ferasans sitting and feasting, no one noticing her yet, leaving her to scan the group, seeing Pridemaster Eukanna sitting at the farthest table, alongside an alien Sasha recognised as a Vorta, with two Jem'Hadar standing nearby.

Then the Jem'Hadar noticed her, and raised their weapons, one of them snapping, "Vorta!"

Then everyone looked up and went silent.

Sasha stepped in, steeling herself as she recalled the traditional Ferasan Challenge, and raised her voice to the assembled. "'Across the Trackless Veld I have journeyed, to stand before you! I, Lieutenant Sasha Hrelle, challenge you, Pridemaster Eukanna, to fight me.'"

The Ferasan male looked to the bemused Vorta, and then to the rest of his Pride members... and laughed uproariously, quickly joined by nearly everyone else in the main room. Then he rose to his feet, baring teeth in a grin of amusement. "How utterly charming, Kitten! That you would manage to escape our clutches, only to come back of your own accord! Well done! Well done!"

Sasha stepped deeper into the room, aware of Ferasans rising from nearby flanking tables to block her exit. "I made a Formal Challenge to you before your Pride, Eukanna. Are you too much of a coward to accept?"

Eukenna's expression tightened, even as he tried to maintain a casual air among his Pride and guests. He walked around the table. "It would hardly be considered a challenge to rip open some tailless, furless Earther."

Sasha kept her stance still, even as she continued to look for Ctuuri. He had to be somewhere here... "Then clearly you don't know who you are facing today, Bubulah. I am no Earther. I am Sasha Hrelle... of Cait." She paused, hearing the murmurs from the surrounding Ferasans.

"You lie!" Eukanna sneered. "You look human. You smell human-"

"And yet," she replied simply. "I am Caitian. I am a Warrior of the Great Mother. I wear Her Mark on my skin.

And I have a formidable pedigree behind me. I am the daughter of Captain Esek Hrelle: the Beast of the Orion Deathmatch Pits, who eats Ferasans like you for breakfast, and shits them out without a second thought."

The murmurs increased as she continued. "Is that not enough for you? Very well. I am also the granddaughter of Ma'Sala Shall: the Storm Bringer, the Eighth Hell, the Fleet Captain of the Caitian forces that have whipped your miserable rat-tailed asses time and time again at Claw Keep, Azure Aura, Perigord, Alchemy, and everywhere else you raise your ugly faces."

Eukanna stared at her incredulously. "You... are truly kin to those scum?"

"Oh yes, I am kin, and proud of it. They taught me well. Very well." She offered a soft laugh... and a sniff of the air between them. "Is that fear I smell coming from you now, Eukanna? Oh yes, I recognise it, having smelled it so often from your pathetic kind. It runs down your legs like piss whenever your people are faced with a real challenge." She bared her teeth. "I can't help but notice you're still not fighting me. Are you not meant to be invincible warriors here? Hardly a good impression to make to your guests, is it?"

Eukanna sneered again... but the reminder of the Dominion members present seemed to make him smile as he looked back at his table. "Nauveh, perhaps your Jem'Hadar would like the privilege of capturing another Starfleet officer? Or even killing her? It might amuse you."

Sasha's eyes followed to the table, where the Vorta sat, without a plate in front of her, merely a simple cup held in modest pale hands. She smiled. "We wouldn't dream of interfering with your traditions, Pridemaster. Carry on."

Eukanna's smile dropped.

Sasha hissed to recapture his attention. "Trying to get the Dominion to fight your battles, Pridemaster? Why don't you call for your Mama while you're at it, Snagglepuss? Go on, call her, I'll wait while you suckle on her teats for comfort."

He hissed back. "You wish to be treated as Caitian, Starfleet? Fine." He bared his teeth. "You can join the other one here for our Feast."

Mention of Ctuuri made her stiffen and glance around. "Where is he?"

"Here. He has been here all along." He looked at the far end of the room. "Send the Caitian over here!"

Sasha kept guard, watching movement among the Ferasans at a table, seeing them shift in place. She expected to see Ctuuri appear, chained, beaten but alive, ready to be rescued by her, the two of them fighting their way to victory-

Something flew through the air in an arc, caught in Eukanna's grip.

Oh God.

Oh God no please no please don't be real don't be real don't be real-

Eukanna held up the bloodied brown tail at one end to his Pride, swinging it around lazily over his head like a toy. "He made a poor starter for our Feast, but the Kittens can play with this for a while, eh?"

His Pride roared with laughter.

Sasha merely stared, feeling things within her shut down. Tan Ctuuri - father, husband, mentor, engineer, one of the bravest, kindest, most decent men she had even known - was dead. Dead because he had helped save Kohanim and her instead of himself. Dead because she was too slow to get back here. Dead because she failed him.

Dead because of these kussiks.

And she remembered her Oath:

I am Kaetini: a Warrior of the Great Mother.

I am Her Eyes, and I am Her Ears.