Surefoot 53: Deep Six

"You?" Eydiir frowned. "As Second Officer, you should be able to use Lt Neheru's quarters, especially as he's in Stasis."

Sasha stepped inside. "It doesn't feel right. And there are evacuees who have their whole families with them, and they could use the privacy."

"That's decent of you," Giles noted, smiling. "Me, I might have taken advantage and invited your Lieutenant Madison around."

She smirked at him. "We're not involved anymore. But I'll let him know about your interest." She dropped her roll on the adjacent desk and began unwrapping the package. "Besides, this is something that all of Alpha Squad needs to partake in."

Giles frowned, intrigued. "What is it? Booze?"

"The best." She held up a dark-green bottle with an elaborately-crafted wicker covering. "I'd left this onboard before I departed for Advanced Command Training on Vulcan years ago. A bottle of Caitian wine, from the vineyards of Rrori's clan."

They all stopped and stared in silence.

"Have they confirmed what happened to his shuttle?" Jonas asked.

Sasha nodded. "Based on the trajectory he took, and the fact that he wasn't fired upon, they think he encountered critical warp core failure, knew he couldn't make it back to the Samaritan, and headed for the Surefoot, diverting his power to ensure his passengers beamed across safely."

"I still can't believe he's gone," Jonas commented.

"But at least he died heroically," Eydiir pointed out, retrieving a number of small disposable cups from her bathroom, as Sasha uncorked the bottle. "And left people singing his praises."

"It is a fate he would have preferred," Kit quipped.

Sasha smiled wistfully. "Very true. I remember that first time he arrived, during that Grey Alert drill. He was locked in an adolescent hormonal surge and acting all hypermacho and competitive."

"And you were acutely aroused by him," Eydiir reminded her, handing out the cups.

"Remember when we were stopping off at Starbase 154," Jonas asked, as Sasha poured some wine into his cup. "And he offered to let Kit study his sexual activities with the women at their bordello for a scientific paper?"

Kit nodded. "I received a Grade B for that report."

Giles smiled. "And when he picked up that mange following our survey of that planet in Tagus III, and he was almost reprimanded by T'Varik for refusing to get out of bed to report for duty?"

Neraxis chuckled. "And when he gorged himself on those sexy Edenist women on that starship, and left his nethers needing an ice pack?"

Sasha laughed now with the memory of it. "He swore off women for all time when that happened... until two days later."

Giles grinned. "He certainly liked his sex. It was his favourite subject."

"That is inaccurate, Best Friend Giles," Kit corrected. "His favourite subject was himself."

Sasha filled her own cup and set aside the bottle. "To be fair, he was under a lot of pressure from his clan to succeed, at least, until he graduated. Well... he's got people talking about him." She raised her cup. "This one's for you: Ensign Meow Rrori. Forever Alpha Squad."

The others followed. "Ensign Meow Rrori. Forever Alpha Squad."

*

Deck 3 Mid -- Alpha Squad Cadet Quarters:

Zir had not felt this exhausted since her first week undergoing Physical Training at the Academy. Her back ached like there was a knife embedded in there, and she still felt the bruises from her fighting with the Cardassians.

The sonic shower informed her that because of power restrictions, her time would be limited to one minute per day, so she made the most of it, letting the waves wash over her, before slipping into more casual clothes and returning to the common room. "It's free now."

Urad dominated the couch, cradling a bowl of Hrochi cornballs, his vest displaying his disruptor burns. "I will pass, Comrade Squad Leader. My body frame is too large to appreciate only a minute's worth of showering. I will save up my minutes for the end of the week."

On the floor, Tori knelt beside Stalac, working on the Horta's combadge, repairing the earlier damage. "You mean we're gonna have to suffer your freaking funk for the next five or six days?" She tapped on Stalac's hide. "You're lucky you don't have a nose."

Nearby, Peter sat on one of the chairs, while Astrid stood behind him, working his injured shoulder and arm, apparently healed but still suffering the aftereffects. "I suspect we'll all start feeling the pinch."

Zir reached for one of their remaining bottles of beer. "Pinch?"

Peter winced at the treatment. "Terran expression." His eyes widened. "That's- That's actually feeling better, Astrid, thanks."

The woman patted his shoulder. "I've had enough experience from water skiing injuries at Key West and Adraica Bay." Then she looked at Zir. "Cher Dieu, get over here, girl! Peter, be a gentleman and give up your seat to our Fearless Leader."

Zir frowned. "What? What's wrong?"

Astrid strode into the bathroom without answering, returning with her brush set. "We have to deal with that rat's nest on your head."

"What? There's nothing wrong with my hair! I ran a comb through it!"

But Peter gently guided her to the chair, smiling. "Come on, girl, relax, you've had a rough day."

Zir reluctantly sat down. "Me? No! I've had it easy compared with the rest of you!"

They all looked at her. Stalac made a rumbling sound, and Tori offered, "He says you're full of shit. And he's right."

"This is not a competition, Comrade Squad Leader," Urad reminded her.

Zir felt herself turn a darker shade of green, and she looked around. They had all been attacked, wounded, their lives threatened. Everything had changed irrevocably from today, and they would be feeling the effects for days, weeks to come. And then they would be expected to get up tomorrow morning and do it all over again...

Then her thoughts melted away, and she felt herself relax, as Astrid gently worked her brush through the Orion's hair, managing to deal with the knots Zir didn't have the patience to deal with herself, and without causing any discomfort. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. "That feels good."

"My pleasure, Fearless Leader."

They were silent for a moment.

Then Peter announced, "We're all going to be okay."

Zir opened her eyes again, looking around at her squadmates, her friends. She remembered being in the Arboretum with them, almost eighteen hours ago, before the battle began, and they pledged their love, their devotion to each other. It seemed a lifetime ago now. "Yes. Yes, we are. We're Alpha Squad."

Astrid looked down at her and smiled. "We are beautiful."

Urad nodded, smiling. "We are invincible."

Tori smiled. "Fuck, yeah." Then there was a beeping sound from Stalac's combadge, and Tori made a final adjustment. "And what do you say, Rocksteady?"

The Horta rumbled, and then from his combadge came, "Escuadrón Alpha no puede ser derrotado!"

*

T'Varik knelt on the floor, unable to centre herself.

No. It was not there. Her centre was lost.

But she would not despair. She was merely temporarily in flux. Her composure would return, in time.

She forced further thoughts aside as she heard her partner finish her ablutions in their bathroom and emerged naked, her tail swishing behind her. "That feels good. Bed will feel even better." She drew up to T'Varik, letting her tail caress the Vulcan's face. "Bed with you will feel best of all. Unless you need more time to meditate."

"I do not."

"Are you sure? Have you've worked through your experiences on the Bridge?"

"Yes. I'm feeling fine." She rose, grasping C'Rash by the waist and guiding her to their bed.

*

The children of the Vancouver slumbered in sleeping bags on Jhess' living room floor, with a single chemical lamp glowing in the corner. Jhess reclined on the couch, lightly strumming on his frettercast, before finally setting aside the acoustic instrument, smiling at his companion, nodding off on the other side of the couch. He kept his voice a murmur to not disturb the children. "Shirley?"

The Counselor stirred, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry."

"Nothing to apologise for. You've had an eventful day. Take my bedroom, I'll sleep out here."

"No, no, I'm not going to kick you out of your own bed."

He shrugged. "You're not. Cats can curl up anywhere."

Shirley leaned back and regarded him in the intimate light. "I've heard about Caitians, but I've never met one before today. Now I've met five."

Jhess smiled. "I hope we haven't disappointed."

She smiled back. "The first one gave up his life to save these children and me. The second one generously took us into her home and gave us respite from the chaos of the day. The third and fourth were the cutest, most adorable kids. And the fifth has been the most caring, funny, patient and understanding man I could imagine. If the rest of your people back on Caitia are the same, I'll have to move there."

Jhess reached for his teacup. "'Cait', not 'Caitia'. It comes from the Old Caitian 'Cae-shaa', meaning 'New Home'. We migrated to our present homeworld a thousand years or so ago."

"Oh, sorry."

He drained the remains of his herbal tea and set aside the cup. "Again, nothing to apologise for. Go to bed; we'll have a busy morning, programming the Holodeck."

The human regarded him, offering a smile and, "You don't have to sleep out here."

He knew; he'd picked up her scent, and her body language. "I'm not uninterested, Shirley, believe me. But I'd like to see if you feel the same way once the adrenaline of today wears off. Besides, it'd be best if one of us was out here on the first night, in case one of them wakes up and needs the toilet, or just reassurance of where they are."

She nodded reluctantly at that, rising carefully so as not to disturb the children, and walked past him... stopping to reach out and stroke the side of his muzzle. "Good night, Jhess."

He purred a little... and just as reluctantly drew back. "Good night, Shirl."

*

Hrelle sat quiet and alone in his quarters, in what humans would have called total darkness.

Then his wife emerged from their bedroom, approaching his chair, crouching beside him, her voice low, intimate. "Sreen is asleep in her crib. Misha is in our bed, so don't expect any action tonight. In fact, don't expect to have much of the bed at all, he's sprawled out like- well, like you..." Kami leaned in and rubbed the side of her muzzle against his. "You're exhausted. You've gone through the Seven Hells today."

"We all have. So many were killed- you and Misha- having my family with me in the middle of a battle- what kind of man thinks that's a good idea?"

Kami wrapped her arms around him. "I hate to break it to you, Captain, Sir, but unlike all your other decisions, the final say never lay with you alone. We've argued about this more than once, and I've been uncharacteristically stubborn in insisting your family stay onboard with you." She sighed. "And I've had my own share of guilt too today. And will do for some time to come.

But we won't solve this tonight. We shouldn't even try."

He sat there, nodding. "We need a memorial. Something for those who have fallen. Something people can visit, alone or with others, where they can reminisce, or pray, or just pay their respects."

"You're still feeling guilty."

He nodded. "I don't regret doing it. Just that I had to do it when people's emotional wounds were still open and raw. And though Commander Zirangi helped defuse a lot of the anger and hurt everyone understandably felt..."

"It will take time. You're right, Esek. But that's something else you can't solve tonight."

He grunted. "Is there anything I can solve tonight?"

"Yes: your family needs your presence in our bedroom, so that we're complete."

He made a sound, and rose to his feet, slipping an arm around her waist, their tails caressing each other. "'Uncharacteristically stubborn'? Really?"

"Watch it, Mister, my Protector's in our bed tonight..."

He smiled, ready to surrender to fatigue, even as his mind truculently continued to ponder the memorial. Sentient races had such diverse ideas about death and what awaits them beyond, if anything.

He wondered if anyone had the definitive answer...

*

Nearby:

The Klingon raced down the corridor, his boots pounding on the marble surface, his passing making the rich red curtains hanging in intervals on the walls on either side flutter.

His name was Karpog, of the House of D'Ghunn. And he would die today without fear, and join his ancestors in Sto-Vo-Kor. Today was a good day to die.

But if he escaped... well, that wouldn't be too bad, either.

But it was finding his way out of this bizarre ship he and his men had boarded that proved a trial. It was labyrinthine, with stone walls and floors and thick red curtains and a smell of chemicals and decaying flesh. And those... creatures, lurking in the shadows... and that human- no, he couldn't have been human! No human could resist-

Karpoq stumbled as he turned a corridor, his ears hearing the approaching whine of one or more of those petaQ objects which had killed Rocut, Kusq and Mucir. He was drawing his disruptor-

When it flew from his hand as if smacked from it, sending it hurtling down the corridor.

A huge, shadowy figure stepped up to him from nowhere. Karpoq drew his blade from his belt, snarling his challenge. "Veqlargh! qaDta'bogh veqlargh jIH!"

And that was when the silver Spheres caught up with him, two soaring through the air, hooked blades emerging from the front of each of them, swiftly impaling his forearms into the wall behind him.

Agony shot through Karpoq, making him drop his blade. No! NO! He needed to die with his blade in his hand! This was- this was-

The humanoid figure stepped up: a tall man, pale and ancient and wrinkled, dressed in generic plain dark civilian clothes, with receding grey hair and a penetrating gaze. He spoke with a voice that was like dirt shovelled into a burial pit. "You played a good game, Klingon. But the game is over. Still... you earned a reward for entertaining me. And so I give you... Revelation."

Karpoq felt the blood pour from his wounds where the Spheres had penetrated his arms. But he would not be made to beg! He would die with honour! "Qaj! 'etlh Hinob!"

The Tall Man raised an eyebrow, before glancing down, seeing Karpoq's dropped mek'leth blade. He bent down, picked it up, and seemed to regard its sharp, curved, pronged features, as he continued to speak. "The Revelation is thus: there is no Sto-Vo-Kor. No Heaven, no Vorta Vor, no Celestial Temple, no Divine Treasury, no Great Forest, no Gloried Way After."

He snapped the mek'leth blade like a twig, and threw the pieces aside.

And then he leaned in, his voice becoming almost intimate. "When you die... you come to us..."

And then, Karpoq felt fear.

"And now... time to die..."

THE ADVENTURES OF THE SUREFOOT WILL CONTINUE IN...

EX MORTIS