Surefoot 56: Shelter from the Storm

He straightened up. "We'll do it. Captain Price, Commander Zirangi, please return to the survivors and update them on our current circumstances -- minus the details about Agar. Captain Sakuth, accompany me to the Bridge."

*

Deck 3 Fore -- Arboretum:

The smell of fresh earth filled the air, as the line of children knelt, working with tools to dig out holes in the square before them, before transplanting the selected flowers, all under Shirley Vinh's supervision.

Except for Misha, who chose to lean against a tree nearby, arms crossed, glowering at the other children.

Jhess, preparing the watering cans and plant feed, nodded silently to Shirley before rising and approaching the Captain's son. "Misha-"

"Don't want to do stupid flower stuff," the cub declared, his golden-brown fur mussed up. "It's for stinky little cubs."

The tall, skinny, spotted-furred Caitian stopped and smiled. "Oh, I wasn't coming over to make you do anything like that. I just wanted to thank you."

Misha looked up, suspicious "Why you thank me?"

Jhess indicated the nearby children. "Well, you're keeping an eye on them. Making sure they're safe. Making sure we're all safe." He squatted down, his tail brushing against a Betazoid rosebush behind him. "I know how hard that can be. You've seen me protecting you and your Mama and Sreen."

Now Misha looked to him, nodding enthusiastically. "We do good. We protect."

Jhess nodded. "Yes. We do good. We protect." He looked down, saw a Betazoid Megalon beetle crawling through the lime-green grass between Misha and him. He cupped his paw open and allowed the beetle to crawl onto it, holding it up and turning his hand to allow it to continue to crawl, deliberately taking care not to harm it. "I wish we didn't, though. It's too scary."

"What? You no get scared!"

The nanny took Misha's hand, and let the beetle crawl onto it, watching the cub's reaction to the tiny legs moving along his furred skin. "Misha, I get scared all the time. Every time I have to fight, or think I have to fight. Even if I don't end up fighting, I'm scared. Scared of hurting someone, or of being hurt. It gives me nightmares. It makes me cry sometimes."

He guided Misha's hand to the rose bush, prompting him to let the insect move safely onto it. "And you know what? That's okay. It's perfectly okay and healthy to feel all of that, now that the danger is past and I don't have to be brave."

Misha watched the beetle move along a gnarled branch of the bush, reaching out to tentatively touch its spotted back. "Don't wanna be scared."

"I know." Jhess reached up and put a hand around the cub's neck... letting his purrs reach into Misha, on an inaudible, reassuring level. "But you know what? Being scared is like being hungry or tired or hurt: it's your body's way telling you that you have to do something about it. If you're hungry, you have to eat. If you're tired, you have to sleep. If you're hurt, you have to get fixed up. And if you're scared... you have to let yourself be scared... and know that there's people around you who love you, and know how you feel, and are here to help you. Okay?"

Misha nodded... his muzzle quivering and his eyes welling up with tears. He made a whimpering sound, and Jhess drew him into a warm embrace.

*

Deck 2 Fore -- Ready Room:

The door chimed, and Sreen looked up from her chair, responding with, "GOOBA GOOBA GOOBA DEE!"

Hrelle smiled from behind his desk. "The word you're looking for, Little Howler, is 'Come'."

The door slid open, and Kit entered, approaching and taking a formal stance. "Most Respected Captain, I hope I am not disturbing you, or the Most Adorable Cub?" He let his long, bright pink tongue shoot out in the infant's direction, making her laugh.

Hrelle's smile became a grin. "Never, Kit. You have a recommendation about the Jem'Hadar?"

The reptoid adopted a more sober expression now, setting down the PADD in his webbed hand onto the desk. "Yes, Respected Sir: a phaser beam on Level 14, will be quicker and more efficacious than any lethal toxins I could recommend."

The Captain leaned back in his chair, his own face matching the younger officer's demeanour. "You couldn't find even a temporary measure to reduce their pain and keep them nourished?"

Kit folded his hands behind him. "Unfortunately not, Respected Sir. The Dominion have had centuries to perfect not just the Jem'Hadar's strengths, but their endemic dependency on Ketracel White. There may be a means of circumventing the various genetic and biochemical failsafes planted in their physiologies, but it will take far more time and resources than we currently possess.

The prisoners do not have that long, and all of your Stasis units are currently occupied by our own critically wounded, so suspended animation is not an option."

"But disintegrating them is?"

Kit raised his head, his throat wattles flushing red-purple with emotion. "I have had time to study not just their bodies, but their minds. Their preferred option would be to die in battle, with weapons in hand, though I understand of course that we could not risk any of our people further in such a venture. I am aware that the pain they are experiencing will exacerbate as the deprivation of Ketracel White overloads their neural pathways... and they will feel like every one of their cells is on fire. It is little wonder that insanity precedes death from catastrophic organ failure.

Respected Sir, I have no particular love for these beings, given their past deeds and the threat they offer the Federation... but I have no desire to see them suffer either, hence my recommendation. My report also contains supportive recommendations from my team. I apologise for our failure."

Hrelle kept his eyes on the young officer as he lifted up the PADD and scanned the cover page. "Thank you, Ensign, but there's no need for you to apologise. It was a long, long, long shot that you could find even a temporary measure to help them, based on the Intelligence reports I've read about them. I suppose I was foolish to even suggest trying."

"If I may quote one of your own sayings, Respected Sir? 'If you don't fish, you don't catch'."

He looked up again, affording himself a slight smile. "Well, I'm glad some of my Old Cat Babble sunk in with you Squabs, Back in the Day." He set aside the PADD and regarded him. "Kit... do you have any thoughts about where you want to go once we return to the Fleet?"

Kit's big bronze eyes blinked. "None, Respected Sir; I will go where Starfleet says I am needed, of course. I do have hopes... but only that the replicators at my next assignment have a wider range of insects available than the Iberia possessed. May I ask why?"

Hrelle leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his belly. "Well, in the aftermath of the Battle of Khavak, I fast-promoted our present cadets to Full Ensign status... an act which was met with less resistance from Commander T'Varik than I expected, though she pointed out that many of the Science, Medical and Engineering cadets still need to complete their technical qualifications, but can do so while serving onboard, preferably with direct supervision from an already-certified officer of those respective fields. I have people here for the Medical and Engineering fields, but none from Science.

In addition, I've had some promising feedback from your colleagues about how well you've managed the team researching the Jem'Hadar problem, and I haven't forgotten how you've pitched in previously on Away Team missions when we were still fighting the Klingons-" He paused, smiling. "This is my tail-chasing way of asking you if you would like to be the Surefoot's Chief Science Officer permanently?"

Kit started at the offer. "Me, Respected Sir? But I thought the Most Respected Counselor filled that role already?"

"Only as a very provisional measure; her qualifications, and preferences, lie elsewhere. Now, I can't guarantee that you'll get as rich and varied a set of duties as you might on a science vessel or survey ship, but then at present those are being diverted to assist in the War effort anyway.

Oh, and I should also point out that with the role comes a promotion to Lieutenant, Junior Grade, and all the responsibilities that come with the position and the rank." He smiled. "If you need time to consider it, go right ahead."

Kit's mouth opened, but it took a moment before he actually responded. "No time is required, Respected Sir. When did you wish me to adopt this most unexpected and... most acutely appreciated role?"

Hrelle rose, opening a small velvet box on his desk and producing from it appropriate pips, walking around to stand before him. "There's no time like the present, I say." He reached up to the young officer's collar, removing the Ensign's pips and replacing them, before stepping back, looking proud as he offered a huge furred hand. "Welcome onboard, Lieutenant Kitirik."

Kit shook it back, his grin as enthusiastic as his shake. "I am most supremely honoured, Respected Sir! And I will do everything in my power to convince you of the correctness of this offer!"

He sent an appropriate signal to Ops on teh Bridge. "I have no doubt on that. Report to the Second Officer for your duty roster and billeting assignment." He indicated the closer door to the Bridge.

Still beaming, Kit nodded and proceeded, Hrelle following not wishing to miss out as the doors parted-

And Sasha, standing near T'Varik, C'Rash and Sakuth at Ops and Tactical, straightened up and announced loudly, "NEW LIEUTENANT ON THE BRIDGE!"

The rest of the Bridge crew rose from their stations, turned to face Kit, and gave three traditional Starfleet cheers.

Kit looked ready to cry with joy.

Hrelle stepped back and let the doors slide shut, looking to his second daughter, who watched and listened curiously from her chair by the window. "Awww, did you see his face? And if I know your big sister Sasha, she'll be planning a monster of a celebratory party when we get back to the Fleet and get these people to safety."

"ASHA!" Sreen replied.

Hrelle gasped, drawing up to her and kneeling down. "Did you just try and say 'Sasha'? Are you ready for your first word? Great Mother! To be here for your First Word!" He tickled under her muzzle. "Come on, say it again! 'Sasha'! 'Sasha'! 'Sasha'!"

Sreen drew in a big breath... and let out a screech and made his ears curl.

*

Deck 2 Fore -- Bridge:

The Skrysa system was like 99% of the systems in the Galaxy, at least as far as Hrelle could discern: binary stars, some uninhabited planetoids, a belt of debris left over from its early creation. Nothing remarkable, nothing worthy of attention.

In other words, he thought, a perfect hiding spot. "Well, Captain?"

Sakuth stood near the Tactical station... and Hrelle noted the remaining tension in the scents of T'Varik and C'Rash , flanking her, a continued tension as they followed Hrelle's orders and brought the ship to the coordinates Sakuth had given.. "Come to a stop dead ahead. They have hidden tracking stations surrounding his location, and will be monitoring us. Allow me to open a hailing frequency to them."

Hrelle nodded to Giles at the Helm. "What do you know of this shelter of Agar's?"

The Vulcan folded her hands behind her back. "We believe it is designed to hold approximately 120, with a small fleet of armed shuttles, phaser and disruptor banks, and complete self-sufficiency through power generation, aeroponic gardens and parts fabrications for at least 30 years."

"Fricking cowards," C'Rash muttered. "Hiding out while the rest of us carry on the fight against the Dominion."

"Mr Agar's perception is that our efforts are doomed, Lieutenant," Sakuth replied, never looking back at the Caitian. "And it is the height of hubris to assume that we are inviolable and eternal. Galactic History is inundated with governments and powers who could not accept their own vulnerability to extinction."

"You have known of his location all this time," T'Varik noted coldly. "And yet made no effort to have him arrested?"

"For what reason, Commander? His operation here has not violated any Federation law in and of itself."

"No, but his actions to fund this operation did, as is his use of a cloaking device. As usual, Starfleet Intelligence turns a proverbial blind eye."

Sakuth turned to her now. "To serve a greater good. Which, for today, includes us." She looked to Hrelle. "Captain?"

The Caitian looked to Ops. "Lieutenant? Open a channel."

"Subspace Frequency 47, Lieutenant," Sakuth added. "It was one employed by Agar in his communications with SI."

Hrelle nodded. Sasha complied. "Hailing frequencies open, Subspace Frequency 47."

The Vulcan straightened up. "Mr Agar, this is Captain Sakuth; we have worked together previously in my capacity as a Starfleet Intelligence operative. I am speaking on behalf of the Captain and crew of this vessel, whom I led to your location.

As you will no doubt be monitoring communications in this sector, you will be aware of the battle which took place in the nearby Khavak earlier this week. You will also be aware of the Jem'Hadar and Cardassian patrols in this area, seeking us. We have repairs to make on our vessel, and need a place of safety to do so. In return for your assistance, we are prepared to barter. Please respond."

Silence.

"Mr Agar," she added. "We have no desire to intrude upon your privacy. Nor do we wish to attract attention to you. We merely wish to take advantage of your cloaked state."

Silence.

Hrelle rose up from the centre of the Bridge to join his senior officers at Tactical, looking to C'Rash. "Access Ma'Sala's data she shared with us on cloaking technology."

Sakuth followed his approach. "Captain?"

He ignored her, calling up scrolls of data. "The requirements to keep a Regula-type station cloaked indefinitely using contemporary Romulan technology..."

C'Rash and T'Varik joined him at neighbouring stations, the latter noting, "A Romulan Dha'kre-class industrial cloak would suffice, such as Romulans would use for orbital and ground-based installations."

C'Rash nodded. "Which at last report were vulnerable to antiproton beams... programming to emit from the navigational deflector-"

"Captain, I must ask again what you intend to do," Sakuth insisted.

Hrelle turned to her, but ordered Sasha, "Open a channel." When she complied, he continued. "Mr Agar, this is Captain Hrelle of the Surefoot. We're in desperate need of your assistance, and we've been told you might be interested in additional arms such as quantum torpedoes, in exchange."

Silence.

"Captain," Sakuth started. "I believe I should proceed to negotiate-"

"We also have information," Hrelle continued, ignoring her. "There are flaws in your cloak, discovered by recent improvements to cloaking detection technology. We can show you how to counteract this."

Silence.

"Lieutenant Shall, fire the beam."

All eyes turned to the viewscreen, as a broad orange beam erupted from the Surefoot's deflector dish towards one side of the screen, moving across the screen, sweeping up and down-

Until it connected, making a ghost image of a cylindrical station with platform extensions for docking and maintenance ports, and sensor and weapons pods.

The beam cut off, and the station vanished again.

Hrelle turned to Sakuth. "You weren't sweetening the pot enough."

The Vulcan's brow furrowed. "Captain, you should prepare for the possibility that Agar might react violently-"

He leaned in closer to her. "I'm always prepared for that, Captain. From every potential enemy. Never forget that."

Then a beep from Ops, as Sasha reported, "Audio signal from... somewhere just ahead, Sir."

He nodded. "Put it through."

Seconds later, a man's gruff voice, which he assumed was Agar, filled the air. "One hundred quantum torpedoes, and the improvements to the cloaking device."

Hrelle drew up. "We're an ambulance vessel that's just fled a battle. We have..." He glanced at C'Rash, who silently mouthed the answer. "Twenty-two torpedoes. Plus the improvements. We don't have much of anything else, except enemy ships looking for us. And the longer we hang about, talking to empty space, the more likely we're to arouse their suspicion about this location. Something neither of us wants, I think."

There was a pause, and then Agar responded. "Proceed 120 kilometres forward, at one-tenth Impulse, then stop; you'll be within our cloak. You can connect with Docking Port 1, which will be indicated to you once you see us. Keep your shields and weapons offline. Then I want to meet you, Captain Hrelle. Unarmed, and alone."

"Agreed. Just send us the transport coordinates."

"No transporters will be operative. I'll have someone meet you at the airlock. Station out."

Hrelle breathed in, glancing around. "Anyone want to protest against my going alone? No? Good." He pointed to T'Varik. "You're in command until I return." He spared a glance at Sakuth before adding, "Needless to say, the chain of command stays within our own ranks. Understood?"

"Of course, Sir."

He spared a final look at Sakuth. "Thank you for your assistance, Captain. Please remain on the Bridge in an advisory capacity."

"Of course, Captain."

"Entering cloaking field," C'Rash announced.

Hrelle faced forward in time to see the starfield shimmer, and the viewscreen become dominated by Agar's station, with a beacon towards a docking part on the station's starboard side.

"They've raised dampening fields," Sasha detailed. "Blocking sensors, communications and transporters!"

"They have weapons locked on us!" C'Rash added with a snarl. "This is so many shades of crazy!"

"Calm your tails," Hrelle told her. "Make no aggressive moves, give them no reason to open fire. As soon as we're docked, I want Jonas and a team in exosuits out there repairing the Shiprot damage, at warp speed. And get the torpedoes ready for transfer on the antigrav trolleys... minus their antimatter yields and guidance systems."

"You intend to cheat Mr Agar?" Sakuth asked, as the others moved to comply with his orders.

Hrelle smirked at her reaction. "Yes. I know it's unethical, but I didn't think you'd have a problem with that..."

*

By the time the protocols were met, Hrelle had arrived at the airlock hatch, watching it slide open to reveal several armed individuals in black paramilitary uniforms, Romulan disruptor pistols aimed at him.

He raised his paws to them, inviting in a faux-dramatic tone, "Take Me To Your Leader."

The guards seemed less than amused, manually frisking him before leading him into the depths of the station as the airlock closed to the Surefoot. He saw no one else, but took in the labels on the doors they passed: Medical Storage 2, Stasis Room 4, Sickbay, Stasis Room 3, Stasis Room 5- someone clearly intends to sleep through the War... "Nice place you guys have here. Where's your Bowling Alley?"

No one responded. You toy soldiers should have included a sense of humour in your Survival Kits.

As they entered a turbolift and ascended to what Hrelle suspected would be their Ops Centre, he noted the ubiquitous symbols, both on the walls and on the uniforms: a stylised Terran letter A, closely resembling the Starfleet arrowhead logo, though he suspected that in this case, it was meant to represent Agar's name. Was the human that egocentric?

His suspicions were confirmed as they entered Ops, an open-plan, split-level circular area, with an elevated office with transparent walls overlooking the ring of technicians at the various stations. It was like a hundred other research facilities and outposts he had seen... except for the thin black banners strung down over the surrounding walls, all adorned with the same letter A logo. And the large portrait over the office, the portrait of a stern-looking, pale-skinned human male with short-cropped iron-grey hair, large ears and a lantern jaw, looking down on all like that Big Brother figure from that old Terran novel.