Surefoot 54: Big Star, Little Star

This is a slight change to the scheduled story, for various reasons too mundane to go into now. It's a stand-alone tale, set some months after the current storyline on the frontlines of the Dominion War, and set on Cait. It's a little light-hearted tale, because I really feel the need for it, so I hope you'll indulge me...)

Planet Cait, Mnara Provinces, Shall Clanlands

Terran Calender Date 11 June 2374:

The huge, honey- and ash-furred Caitian male in the green kilt and vest moved with uncharacteristic caution, reining in his normal bombast as he cradled the tiny, sepia-furred treasure in his huge paws, holding her up to the glass cabinets filled with polished gold and silver statues.

The male's voice was a gentle baritone as he described each in turn. "Now, that one was my first S'Ralcha Award for Best Actor, for A Caitian Alone. I was particularly brilliant in that vivid. Such pathos; that role was what brought the name of Mi'Tree Maro to everyone's attention."

The infant in his arms, Sreen Hrelle, gurgled.

"Mmm? Oh, that was my surname long before I married Bneea, and before I met your grandmother and took her name," he explained, pointing to another award. "And that one was for Season for Your Purr, a musical comedy. I certainly surprised the critics, who never expected someone of my size to sing and dance so well." He leaned in and confided. "My co-star in that one was particularly attractive. Enticing musk, gorgeous rear end... as adept off his feet as on them."

The infant cooed.

"Don't tease, I was younger then, and on a constant Season, or so it seemed. Oh, and this one was for Doctor Shivago. The premiere was attended by the Dohlman of Elas, visiting Cait at the time. She was wildly infatuated with me, of course, but by then I was engaged to your other grandfather, I didn't want him to get jealous, so I had to let her down as easily as I could, the poor woman-"

"Funny, that's not how I remember it."

Mi'Tree ignored the new arrival to the study, drawing the infant closer to purr against her. "Don't listen to the old cat who's just walked into the room; extreme age and constipation has driven him senile."

Bneea Shall peered at his partner and their grandcub over his spectacles as he stepped into the study, carrying a PADD. "That evening remains indelible in my mind, since it was all everyone in the industry was talking about for the following two weeks."

"Sreen isn't interested in the details-"

Bneea drew up to them, reaching out and tickling under the infant's stubby muzzle, making her giggle as he informed her, "As I recall, your other grandfather was egregiously drunk that night, and threw up on the Dohlman's cloak. She was getting ready to cut off his tail - among other parts - before I stepped in to smooth things over. As per usual."

Mi'Tree harrumphed. "We'll agree to disagree."

"You can disagree on what goes best with grilled shuris fillets, not on something that actually happened. Or should we include a recording of the event on this tour of the Mi'Tree Shall Ego Stroke Museum?" He sniffed, his greying muzzle wrinkling. "She needs changing."

Mi'Tree grunted, having scented his granddaughter contribute to the conversation in her own inimitable way seconds before. He started handing her over. "Well, I've been most greedy with having time with her, you should-"

Bneea held up his PADD. "I have an imminent appointment with our clan's investment firm to discuss plans for the next quarter. You promised to mind her for the rest of the afternoon. That includes taking care of personal hygiene."

Sreen looked up at Mi'Tree expectantly.

"Mmm, yes, well, let's go find your Mama and Papa-"

Bneea was sitting down now at the desk, readying the communicator. "Kami has taken Misha and his little Roylan friend Naida to the local school so they can play with cubs their own age. Esek and Sasha have left for the Temple of the Kaetini, and they won't be back until late this evening."

"Well, then, their nanny-"

"Jhess has already left for Shanos Minor, to visit his son and ex-wife." Bneea looked up now, frowning. "What's wrong with you, Mi'Tree? You've cleaned up cubs before! And our granddaughter's little diaper bundles can't be any more toxic than her mother's were!"

"I know, I know. It's..." Mi'Tree hesitated, resting the cub against his broad shoulder, idly playing with the tiny curled tail sticking out of the slit in the back of her clothes. "I... I don't want to... hurt her."

His husband leaned back in the chair, folding his hands onto his stomach as he regarded the other male with some sympathy. "Neurodystraxia hasn't left her made of porcelain; you won't hurt her. You just have to learn to deal with her special needs. Remember what Kami and Jhess showed us."

Sreen mewled, smacking her grandfather on the shoulder.

Bneea grunted. "She's getting uncomfortable. And if you keep her crying like that and Ma'Sala wakes up and hears her, she'll show you a new place to store all those awards of yours."

Mi'Tree harrumphed again. "Fine. I'll deal with this. And I'm still taking her to the studio with me for the broadcast this afternoon!"

Bneea returned to his work. "Fine. Just don't leave her behind somewhere while you're signing autographs."

"How dare you! I wouldn't do something as outrageous as that!"

Bneea looked up again, glaring.

"Again," Mi'Tree clarified under his breath, hurrying out of the room.

*

Sreen lay on the table mat, staring up impatiently as Mi'Tree undressed her, cooing, "Don't you fret, Little Cub. Your other grandfather is quite right; I took care of your mother like this on many an occasion. I know what I'm doing."

But the more he revealed Sreen -- and the miniature metallic exoframe that covered almost half her body while she wore it, from her head and neck to her limbs and extremities -- the more he became self-conscious about it. It made her look a little like one of those Borg things he'd read about. Unlike those monstrosities, however, this allowed her to overcome the Neurodystraxia she had been born with, and help her move about, at least as much as any cub her age.

Finally he stopped, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. "Oh, Little Cub..." It had been one thing, to know through long-distance communications from his children about Sreen's genetic condition. But to have her here in the fur, to see the additional effort she and her family had to invest, the struggles she would have for the rest of her life, to keep up with other cubs. She was so helpless, so vulnerable-

He was rudely pulled out of his pity by Sreen reaching out, grabbing his finger, drawing it to her mouth and biting him with her pin teeth, before hissing up at him demandingly.

"Sorry, Dear Cub! Sorry!" He ignored the pain in his fingertip and disconnected the portion of her exoframe that ran over her diaper, in order to remove the diaper entirely and clean her up. Damn it, Little Cub, you're as hot-tempered and impatient as your mother and grandmother!

And then he felt supremely foolish for his lingering feeling of commiseration. Kami had been right, the night they had all returned from space for shore leave, when she had observed something in his expression on his seeing the exoframe on Sreen.

And as she had informed him at the time, "Your granddaughter will always be different from other cubs... but she will never be less than them. She has far more ability than disability. And I know she's going to knock our world onto its furry ass."

Mi'Tree smiled as he dried and powdered the cub's nethers. "I have an appointment in the city to have the grey in my fur dyed and some of these wrinkles under the eyes tightened, and then maybe we'll get you some ice cream and visit the First Landing Memorial before we go to the studio. I know, I know, your mother said I'm not to spoil you." He leaned in, smiling. "But there's an old Caitian saying: 'It's the divine duty of parents to be responsible... and the divine right of grandparents to be irresponsible.'"

Then he began singing as he prepared the fresh diaper. "Big Star, Little Star, racing through the sky / Big Star, Little Star, flying oh so high / Big Star, Little Star, shining far and bright / Big Star, Little Star, shining through the night!" He reached up and touched the tip of her snout. "Boop!"

Sreen giggled... and peed some more over the mat.

Mi'Tree quickly caught what he could in the fresh diaper he was about to place on her. "Yes, well, I'll not take that as a criticism of my singing."

*

Crerr's was one of the more stylish salons in the heart of the city, and Mi'Tree one of their more prominent celebrity customers, always fawned over... until today, when the female staff in the store put their attentions on Sreen, sitting in her hoverchair while she was fussed and cooed over.

Mi'Tree smiled proudly from his own treatment chair near the salon window as Crerr himself continued dyeing Mi'Tree's patches of grey fur into a colour indistinguishable from his natural one. The old male chuckled. "Oh yes, my little Princess here will do wonders when she grows up."

The black-furred male who'd groomed Mi'Tree for years grunted as he worked on the actor's arms. "She's already doing that, having diverted my staff from talking about the latest David Meowie concert. I didn't think such a thing were possible."

"She comes from excellent stock, of course; her parents helped save hundreds of Starfleet lives at the Battle of Khavak two months ago on their amazing ship the Surefoot. And her sister is a Kaetini warrior! The first non-Caitian to join that prestigious organisation! Not to mention my own achievements-"

"Not to mention," Crerr quipped. "But I bet you'll mention them again anyway."

"Four Vlathi snake assassins!" Mi'Tree declared. "I faced them with nothing but my claws and fangs and my righteous fury!"

"It was two the last time you told this story; did they breed since then?"

Before Mi'Tree could respond, the salon doors opened, and a female adult entered with a young cub, a male about five or six, the female looking at Mi'Tree with an expression the old actor was well-accustomed to by now. "Excuse me, but are you-"

He sat up, beaming and bowing slightly. "Yes, Madame, I am indeed Mi'Tree Shall, the Taleteller himself!" He looked down at the wide-eyed cub with the excited tail. "And who is this?"

The female smiled and placed a steady hand on the cub's shoulder. "This is M'Turan. He never misses a story from you, is always at the Cynet screen an hour before it begins. When he saw you from outside, he recognised you right away. I'm sorry if we're bothering you-"

"No bother at all, Madame!" Mi'Tree dropped to one knee in front of the cub and offered a hug. A year ago, when he had taken on the Taleteller program, he had remained unsure of this change in career. After a lifetime making popular vivids, the work had dried up, and even his agent seemed to have forgotten him.

But once he took on this role, reading stories that were broadcast to the cubs of Cait and the colonies, offering advice and life lessons and inspiration and comfort along the way... well, he embraced it with a passion. He drew back and grinned at the cub, reaching into his vest and producing one of his pre-signed autograph cards, handing it to him. "A pleasure to meet you, M'Turan! Tell me, have you got a favourite story?"

The cub drew back, holding the card like it was a bar of gold-pressed latinum, clearly overwhelmed at meeting his hero in the fur. "The Crooked Tailed Cub and the Sky Pirates!"

Mi'Tree crooned, eyes opening. "Ooh, that's a favourite of mine, too! I loved the ending, when the Cub fought the Pirate King on the airship! It gave me chills just reading it aloud!" He chuckled. "Next week, I'll be reading The Crooked Tailed Cub and the Dragon Caves. That'll be fun, won't it?"

Nearby, Sreen mewled for her grandfather.

"Ooh, someone's getting jealous of the attention! P'Nurs, bring her over, would you, please?" He chuckled as he accepted the infant, adjusting her on his knee. "This is my granddaughter Sreen. Her father is Captain Hrelle, the famous Starfleet hero! Say Hello!"

M'Turan smiled and waved. "Hiya!"

Sreen laughed and made a similar sound back.

The other cub looked curious now, and he reached out and touched her exoframe. "What's this? Is it a spacesuit?"

"Spacesuit? No, it's an exoframe to help her move. She has Neurodystraxia-"

But on seeing Sreen, M'Turan's mother's expression turned cold as winter on Andor, and quickly she reached out and tugged her cub back. "Don't touch it! You might catch something!" She scowled with outrage at Mi'Tree. "You have no business bringing that thing out in public without warning people!"

"Eh?" Mi'Tree breathed, confused by the sudden outburst. "What's wrong?"

"Get out of my establishment!" Crerr demanded angrily, pointing to the door.

The mother made an indignant sound, dragging her protesting cub out, ignoring his pleas about his dropping Mi'Tree's autograph card on the salon floor.

Sreen began crying at the change in mood, and her grandfather comforted drew her close and sang to her. "Big Star, Little Star, racing through the sky... Big Star, Little Star, flying oh so high..." He continued until she calmed down again, and he looked up at the adults. "What in the Seven Hells was that about?"

"Bigoted kussik," Crerr growled.

"Eh? You mean... she was directing that bile towards Sreen?"

"Of course she was," P'Nurs confirmed, her tail twitching with irritation. "My brother is an ND, too. I've heard people talk about him the same way. I'm surprised she made it out without dropping the L-Bomb."

Mi'Tree flinched, as much from guilt as outrage, knowing exactly what the young female was talking about. Neurodystraxics on Cait -- often referred to by the offensive term 'Lagger' -- as well as others with similar disabilities, were a source of fear and discrimination, in large part a historical instinctive reaction to the Ferasans, racial cousins who had genetically augmented themselves and terrorised the Caitians on and off for centuries since the Exodus.

It was an unfortunate side to their people, that ingrained defensive fear of those that were like them, but still different, and ironically the medical advances of the last few centuries, which had eliminated many physical and mental problems, only seemed to accentuate those remaining conditions that weren't treatable. They provoked fear, provoked condescension, provoked ignorance and hostility, and all for no other reason that they were different from the rest... even the very idea of them.

"That's disgraceful," Mi'Tree muttered. "And she thought the condition was infectious? Ignorant woman!"

"Most people won't even have actually known anyone with ND," P'Nurs continued. "They're certainly not gonna see any in the Vivids or on the Cynet channels. Just beautiful, perfect people, as always." She nodded to Mi'Tree. "Isn't that right, Taleteller? That's your business, after all."

"That's not fair, girl," Crerr defended. "Mi'Tree doesn't control the media."

"No, he just hosts a show that's seen by hundreds of millions all over the world and on the colonies." She stared straight and unflinchingly at the old male. "My brother never sees anyone like him in the media. Visibility matters. Representation matters. You have an ND grandcub. What have you done to change that?"

"That's enough!" Crerr snapped.

But Mi'Tree raised a conciliatory hand. "No, no, she has a point." He shifted to have Sreen face him, stroking her muzzle until she began purring, her tiny hands reaching up to grasp his fingers.

The fact was, he'd done nothing to enlighten others about people with disabilities. Indeed, he can recall a few of his earlier vivids at the start of his fame, the popular action ones, the comedies, where the scripts included Lagger jokes. It shamed him now. He was as guilty of ignorance as everyone else he knew. Ignorance, and apathy.

"Do you want me to finish your other arm now, Mi'Tree?" Crerr offered.

The old male sighed. "Thank you, my friend, but no. I have to go shopping for my little one here. I want to get her a brand new outfit. Something fabulous." He looked up at P'Nurs. "After all, she's going to be seen today by hundreds of millions all over the world and on the colonies."

*

The studio was blessedly cool and dark, and Mi'Tree breathed it all in welcomingly... along with the buzz of the production team as they prepared for the live broadcast.

In the hoverchair he pushed ahead of him, Sreen, clad in an expensive orange-red dress of Tholian silk that her mother was no doubt going to rip him a new one for buying, made a tiny roar of excitement.

Mi'Tree laughed. "Yes, Grandcub of Mine, it is invigorating, isn't it? There's an immediate stimulation to a live Cynet broadcast, something akin to the theatre, a stimulation that one doesn't experience when making a Vivid. Some of my contemporaries are rather snobbish about Cynet work; clearly they don't know what they're missing-"

"Mi'Tree!" The young Personal Assistant Stori, a petite, snow-furred male, rushed up. "You're late, you need to get to Makeup!"

"Forgive me, Dear Cub, but it was my granddaughter's first time in the Big City, she demanded to see the First Landing Memorial, and I couldn't possibly refuse her."

"Is this her?" Stori stopped, knelt and grinned with genuine delight, suppressing his urgency as he reached out and stroked under her muzzle, making her purr. "Of course it is. The holos of her you've brought in didn't do her justice, Mi'Tree." Then he looked up at the older male. "But you should get moving; Horash is running around like he's caught his tail in a door. I'll find someone to mind Sreen."

Mi'Tree grunted -- their Production Manager always ran around like he'd caught his tail in a door -- but nodded. "No need; Sreen will need makeup, too. She's accompanying me onscreen."

"Sorry?"

The older male nodded, beaming proudly. "She'll be appearing with me before the cameras. I'll be introducing her to our audience, and talking about her, before the story."

Stori's smile dropped. "Does Horash know?"

"Not yet. But it shouldn't be a problem, I've had young guests on the show before." He reached down and patted the P.A. reassuringly on the shoulder. "Come now, my granddaughter needs to get accustomed to the burdens required by the talented and famous."

*

It took some effort on Mi'Tree's part to stop smiling at the fuss the Wardrobe and Makeup crew were giving to Sreen, and he was grateful that none of them showed any of the dismay that he had seen on the mother in the salon earlier.

And then Horash entered, the ash-furred male in the well-tailored suit stopping and swallowing, his tail twitching as he made a visible effort to focus on him. "Mi'Tree, about time you showed up."

"I wasn't that late, Horash-"

"Now, what's this I hear about you wanting to have your grandcub with you on the broadcast?"

Mi'Tree glanced down at the makeup assistant trimming the fur on his paws. "Yes, it'll be such a treat! Ooh, that reminds me: Stori, send a message to my husband, make sure he and the family are watching-"

"You haven't cleared this with me first," Horash reminded him.

Mi'Tree looked up now, offering a charming smile. "I know, I know, but it's a small indulgence, I ask for so little, and I think it'd be a most informative experience."

"You can't have her on."

Mi'Tree blinked; he had half-expected an objection from him, though given their prior contentions, he suspected that it was more about his need to be seen as First Male around here than any issue with Sreen. "Why not?"