Surefoot 52: ...This Means War Pt. 02

"Coordinate with Neraxis and the Bridge to give you an armed escort to Sickbay 2 or 3 until they can secure the route."

Eydiir nodded, her expression softening as she added, "It is very pleasing to see you and Neraxis and Kit again. Alive."

He smiled, patting her on the arm. "You too-"

"Respected Friends! Come here, please!"

They turned, approaching Kit, who had rejoined them in the Shuttlebay and was crouching near an injured human, holding a tricorder. "It's Good Friend Giles!"

Jonas and Eydiir rushed up, confirming Giles' identity, as Eydiir took over the diagnosis. "What the- I thought he was back at Starfleet Logistics on Earth!"

"Sasha wrote to me about him last month," Eydiir responded. "He'd told her he was transferring to Intelligence to assist in data gathering for the War effort." She frowned. "No obvious physical damage, he should recover, but there's undefined neurological trauma, elevated levels of psilosynine indicative of telepathic activity... what happened to him?"

"Perhaps we should ask his commanding officer from the USS Cooper?" Kit suggested, nodding to a figure striding towards one of the smaller stored shuttles. "We have encountered her previously: Captain Sakuth."

Jonas tensed, watching in recognition now as the woman with the pointed ears stopped at the side of the shuttle, remembering the time the woman, a Starfleet Intelligence operative, had tried to destroy this vessel and everyone on it in order to contain the secrets of a classified weapon; they may have all signed nondisclosure agreements, but he still remembered. He tapped his combadge. "Lt Ostrow to Bridge: I thought you should be made aware that Lt Giles Arrington is onboard, injured but he'll recover. His CO from the Cooper, Captain Sakuth, is here, too."

Captain Hrelle responded first. "Is she doing anything, Jonas?"

Jonas frowned, looking for her, and seeing- "She's just entered one of the shuttles!"

Now Commander T'Varik spoke up. "Lieutenant, have her removed and placed under guard immediately."

"Yes, Ma'am." He signalled to Neraxis, and rushed up to the shuttle, seeing the gull-wing door lower; it began rising again at his command, as his wife joined him, phaser drawn, following his lead without asking why. He stepped inside cautiously. "Captain? What are you doing in here?"

Sakuth was in the pilot's seat, her hands on the controls, but now swivelled to face the two junior officers. "Lt Jonas Ostrow, isn't it? And Ensign Neraxis Ostrow. I recall you from an earlier visit, when you were still cadets."

He nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. I'm required to ask what you're doing in here? You're not intending to try and leave, are you?"

"Of course not. I required... a moment of solitude, to gather my mental reserves, following the loss of my vessel, and so many of my crew, in battle. As you no doubt can imagine, such an experience is an emotionally arduous ordeal, even for Vulcans."

"Oh... I see." The admission threw him, not expecting it from the woman, remembering only her arrogance. "Captain, what happened to Giles? The tricorder readings indicated... telepathic activity."

Sakuth rose to her feet, nodding. "Yes, Lieutenant. I was responsible for that."

Neraxis stepped forward, her voice taut. "Why?"

The Vulcan folded her hands behind her, her own expression visibly uncomfortable. "Mr Arrington is an intelligent, resourceful young individual, and has proven invaluable to my work... but unfortunately, during battle, he panicked. He had become a danger, to himself and to the rest of us. I ... I was forced to initiate a mind-meld and subdue him."

Jonas frowned, juggling between his incredulity at that, and his need to maintain a professional demeanour. "Begging your pardon, Captain, but that doesn't seem like Giles."

"Forgive me, Lieutenant, but my more recent interactions with Mr Arrington has granted me an insight into his mind that you and his former associates might lack. He has been struggling with general feelings of inadequacy and lack of self-worth, as well as specific lingering romantic feelings towards Lt Hrelle. He volunteered for combat duty to prove himself, to her and to yourselves." She breathed in. "In view of his superlative record until today, I will employ discretion and not mention his breakdown in my logs. Shall we return outside? I would like to find other survivors of my crew... with your permission, Lieutenant."

Jonas stared at her for a moment, before nodding and ushering Neraxis and himself out of the shuttle, Sakuth following, nodded back to them and began moving through the throngs of survivors.

"Wow," Neraxis quipped, "The War must have loosened that stick she'd had up her ass since we last met her."

"Keep an eye on her," Jonas told his wife. It seemed unbelievable, that Giles would behave that way, and that the Vulcan would be so accommodating and gracious. But he had other things to worry about now.

*

"The Ajax is approaching, Captain," T'Varik informed Hrelle. "Providing firing cover."

He nodded, grateful for the help of his friend and that powerhouse of a ship, if only to keep further invaders from boarding. "Security Status?"

His niece growled, then stepped away from her station and moved to the Weapons Locker on the wall, opening it. "I can't trust our internal sensors, and communications are faltering. I'm doing a physical inspection."

Hrelle approached -- but T'Varik beat him to it. "That is not a logical course of action, Lieutenant. You need support."

"And I'll get it," the Caitian female promised, strapping on a phaser. "I'll stop off in the Shuttlebay and press-gang some survivors, make them earn their passage to safety." He looked to Hrelle. "After checking in on Aunt Kami, Spots and the Cubs."

T'Varik turned to Hrelle. "Captain... request permission to accompany-"

"Denied." Hrelle swallowed, his expression fixed on C'Rash, but his nose twitching at the changes of scent between the two females since they had married, a scent now heightened; Vulcan anxiety was... sharp. But he couldn't make allowances now, for that or for this cub being a member of his family. "Keep all your senses peeled, Lieutenant, and stay in touch constantly."

"Yes, Sir." She looked to T'Varik, the women exchanging libraries of words and feelings with a look, and then moved to the Jefferies Tube hatch near the doors.

As he watched her depart and a crewman closed the hatch for her, Hrelle moved to the Weapons Locker now, retrieving a phaser. "Arm yourselves, all of you. We're short on crew, resources, time, we have civilians onboard, and we're facing an unknown number of enemy soldiers who have already forsaken the Rules of Engagement, assuming they ever believed in them in the first place. I'm ordering all of you to defend yourselves and each other by any means necessary, including lethal force."

As the crew began collecting phasers from him, his thoughts returned to his family on Deck 3. They were in the safest part of the ship, watched over by a Security crewman and a veteran Caitian Sabrecat soldier. He couldn't afford to spend too much time worrying about them, not with a whole ship and crew.

*

Rrori banked the shuttle down, around the wreckage of the Vancouver, his stomach managing the wild manoeuvres surprisingly well, considering how tense he already had been, waiting. Waiting for the Female Agent to return and take him away. But there was no sign of her.

And the longer she delayed in finally appearing, the more anxious... the more terrified... he became. He had bypassed closer escape pods, allowed his fellow Samaritan shuttle pilots to collect them, while he dove deeper and deeper into the battlefield, risking his life, ostensibly to get to the survivors no one else dared. Come on, you bastard, where are you-

His sensors picked up an escape pod, just ahead, being menaced by a Jem'Hadar Scarab, sensors indicating six lifeforms -- Mother's Cubs, five are youngsters! -- and immediately banked towards them, diverting power from the shields to the shuttle's transporter systems, which were designed for greater capacity than most under emergency conditions... of which this certainly qualified. Come on, come on, survive, survive-

The interior of the shuttle both dimmed from the massive power diversion, and flared with transporter carrier wave energy. He glanced for a second behind him, through the opening into the main cabin. The entire floor of the shuttle served as a transporter pad; shapes coalesced and solidified, and immediately the air was filled with the scents and sounds of six humans -- no, five humans, one Andorian cub -- crying and screaming as they hurtled around to his piloting. He couldn't take his eyes away from the space ahead as he called back, "Is there an adult present?"

A female voice responded. "Y-Yes! En-Ensign Shirley Vinh, USS Vancouver!"

He nodded. "Welcome aboard, Ensign Vinh, I'm Ensign Meow Rrori, USS Samaritan. I'll be taking you and everyone else to safety. There are fold-down seats with safety harnesses on the side wall, secure yourselves! Does anyone need medical assistance?"

"Um- Um, no, no! Nothing like that! We're just shaken- some of the kids have had accidents-"

Rrori sniffed, confirming the assessment. "That's understandable, I'm pretty close to joining them. Well, just sit tight, all of you, you're safe now, strap yourselves in and enjoy the flight."

"Y-Yes, yes, of course." There was a pause, and then the woman added, "Thank you, Mr Rrori. God bless you."

He almost made a facetious remark to her quaint blessing... but instead felt himself blush beneath his fur, and plotted a course back to the Samaritan. "Just sit tight." He slid the cockpit door shut.

"How sweet."

Rrori started; the Caitian Agent had appeared in the co-pilot's seat, smirking at him, and he almost lost control with shock. "Motherf-"

"Watch it, there are cubs present." She blinked. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, are you ready?"

"What? Now? You come for me now? I can't go! I have to get my passengers to safety!"

"Stud, we talked about this. You have to look at the Big Picture. It's not about being a Hero."

"I'm not out to be a hero! I'm out to save lives! These lives! Let me get them back to the Samaritan, and then we can go, I promise!"

The Agent shook her head. "It's too late for that, Meow; she's seen me. If it's any consolation, they've been living on borrowed time since this battle started."

"Consolation? What in the Seven Hells consolation is that? They're alive now! I can save them!"

She shook her head.

"Then stick your offer up your ass! You and the rest of Section 31 can go fuck yourselves!

"You're serious? With all that's at stake, you're willing to stay here, to die, just for a couple of insignificant lives?"

"They're not insignificant! They matter!"

"You have to see the Bigger Picture."

He pointed to the rear of the shuttle. "They are the Bigger Picture!"

She stared at him. And then smiled. "Okay, Stud. You win."

He blinked. "I do?"

"Yeah. I'll arrange for them to be beamed away as well, but to one of the support ships, and then we'll plant a fake transporter record. Whatever happens to them after that... well, we're not Gods."

He stared back... even as his hands moved over the controls, as surreptitiously as he could manage.

Because as good as she was, he could tell she was lying. She'd tell him they'd be safe, maybe even show him some evidence. But it'd be a lie, to placate him.

This was all his fault. His vanity, his puerile hunger for adventure and acclaim and glory, had doomed the people counting on him. He was an abject disgrace.

But he still had a shot at redemption.

He banked downwards, ignoring the cries from the passengers in the main cabin as he turned and grasped her by the wrists, preventing her from activating whatever controls he knew she had on her forearms- yes, bitch, I saw you working them before, you're not that good at your job-

"What are you doing, you idiot?" she demanded with unprecedented alarm, struggling with him. "We have to go-"

From the corner of his eye, he saw them approach the Surefoot, ready to pass by them. "We are."

"You fool! The engines are set to detonate in five seconds! LET ME GO!"

He glanced at his board again, the proximity alarm triggering the automatic controls to beam his passengers over to the nearest safe haven. Under normal circumstances he would have joined them, but there was no time or opportunity to include himself without risking their lives.

And he didn't deserve to survive anyway.

Good luck, Ensign Vinh, cubs, Captain Hrelle will take care of you...

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!" the Female screamed at him.

Goodbye, Mama... "You have to see the Bigger Pic-"

*

On the Surefoot Bridge, Neheru responded to an alert. "Captain! One of the Samaritan shuttlecraft just exploded, one kilometre off our starboard side! We lost the pilot, but they sent an Emergency Transporter Beam of their passengers! We have the survivors' patterns in our computer!"

"Quick, get it forwarded to one of the Shuttlebay pads before it degrades!" He glanced at T'Varik. "Check the shuttle registry, get the pilot's name so we can inform the Samaritan of their loss-"

Then she looked up, her expression sober. "Captain... the pilot was Ensign Meow Rrori."

Hrelle started, as did several others on the Bridge who recognised the name. Seven Hells... "Rrori? Our Rrori?"

She nodded, re-examining the data. "His flight path suggests he was initially returning to the Samaritan with the other shuttles, but possibly had some engine difficulties, and diverted to us to get his passengers to safety before they were caught in enemy fire."

He nodded absently. Meow Rrori, you were vain, licentious, arrogant, privileged, a preening prettytail...

But damn you, Cub, you had a hell of an exit...

*

The invaders had herded the prisoners into the Pit near the Warp Core, just outside of view of the main entrance to Engineering; two Jem'Hadar dragged the body of Chief Grev in and dumped him on the floor near the wall, like a sack of garbage.

Tori looked away in horror and disbelief. It was only -- what, ten minutes ago? -- that the Chief and she had been happily bantering, despite the crisis. That he had been alive and gruff and he'd been telling her about his past assignments and the potential placements she could earn and- and- this wasn't happening.

One of the Jem'Hadar stepped forward. "I am First Karys'lidod. Which is you is the next in the command line?"

Tori glanced at the others: Nancy Yeager, Tiddon, Arad Maf, Tommy James, her fellow cadets Yuluron and Emil Tattakovaky. There was tense, fearful expressions, but no answers.

Then one of the Cardassians, who wore an officer's insignia on his segmented grey armour, pointed at Nancy. "Her. She wears an officer's rank."

The Jem'Hadar First stepped up to her. "Release the control systems."

Nancy fixed a steely gaze back, stuck out her pointed chin and replied, "Yeager, Nancy L; Ensign; Serial Number SJ-163-445."

The other Jem'Hadar forced Nancy to her knees, head bowed, while Karys'lidod drew out an ugly-looking pistol, pressing the tip against the back of her head. "Release the control systems."

Tori held her breath. Tell him, tell him, it's not worth it, it's not worth it-

Nancy's voice cracked. Her defiance didn't. "Yeager, Nancy L; Ensign; Serial Number-"

Her defiance ended as he shot her.

Tori tried not to cry out, failed, and she bit her lip as she looked away. Nancy was dead. Half an hour ago she was grousing about the auxiliary plasma conduits, and talking about going on shore leave with Logan Gentry, and now she was dead. Grev was dead, They were all dead, they just hadn't reached it yet. But it would happen. Soon. Very soon.

The First reached for Tattakovaky now, but then the Cardassian officer raised a hand. "Wait, First. Might I make a suggestion at this point?"

The First stopped and turned to him, and for a moment, Tori thought she saw contempt in the invader's eyes for their ostensible allies. "What is it?"

The Cardassian stepped forward, allowing the Jem'Hadar to drag away Nancy's body, as he regarded the remaining prisoners. "As natives to this Quadrant and long-standing foes of the Federation and its master races, we are more familiar with their psychological frameworks than you might be. They are all prepared to die as that unfortunate young woman was, to serve as inspiration for the rest; martyrdom is ingrained in their DNA, as much as combat is in yours.

They are less prepared to listen while their colleagues suffer, however.

And while I am sure you are second to none in despatching your opponents quickly and efficiently, Cardassians are most adept at making the enemy suffer. Just ask the Bajorans."

He was approaching Tori, the girl's pulse doubling in fear.

Karys'lidod grunted. "I do not perceive any superiority in Cardassians to causing suffering."

"Forgive me, First, but that's because you're all grown in cloning facilities. You are sexless. You don't understand the intense intimacy involved in the sexual act for most of our races..." He reached out, taking Tori's chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Or the intense horror when that act is turned into punishment, intimidation. I am Glinn Drurocc, young woman. Tell us, are you a virgin?"

She felt like she was going to throw up, or cry. Instead she slapped his hand away. "None of your fucking business, you ugly shitstain!"

He offered a slight, mirthless laugh at her defiance, looking back at the Jem'Hadar. "Let my men and I have some fun with her... and let her colleagues listen, and let them know that all they have to do to stop her suffering, is to release the command codes to you." He signalled to his fellow Cardassians.

They approached Tori, grabbing her, dragging her away from the others.

No. No No NO NO NO NO-

*

C'Rash crawled out of the Jefferies Tube on Deck 3's Port Corridor, leading to Sickbay 1, the Security Suit... and the Science Lab, her first destination, to ensure Aunt Kami, Spots and the Cubs were okay-

She paused, her hackles rising.

The corridor curved slightly inward, was empty with the lights dimmed. She listened, scented the air, catching her Assistant Security Chief Brian Gorman just ahead. She strode forward, drawing her phaser.

Then she rounded the curve and saw him standing in the alcove near a junction, its force field activated.

She was about to speak to him, to warn him against firing at her, when she realised he was dead: his neck was broken, his head resting backward, his body propped up.

Bait.

Figures emerged around her, no longer blending into the surroundings.

Firing at her.

*

Further down, Jhess knelt beside the Science Lab's own Jefferies Tube hatch. "Pamela, help me with this, would you please?"

Travers approached, as did Kami, cradling Sreen while trying to look casual for the benefit of the adults and children also sheltered here. She watched the hatch slide aside, before Jhess stuck his head inside... but only for a second, his tail twitching.

"Problem?" Travers asked, her hand moving to her phaser.

But he shook his head. "Only if you have claustrophobia. Now, according to the schematics I studied, this leads to a vertical access up to the Life Support Bay on Deck 2, and from there the escape pods beside the Officers' and Guest Quarters."

"Yes, and?"