Surefoot 56: Shelter from the Storm

The only way to salvage something from these acts is to learn from them, and when possible to strive not to repeat them. Paramount to all of this is to rely on those around you, who are here to help and support you."

She knelt beside him, reaching out.

Stalac rumbled backwards. "No- You mustn't- I might-"

"Do not move; that is an order." She placed her hand on his shell, felt the heat, the potential beneath the silicon surface. "I am not afraid of being hurt by you, Mr Stalac. Neither are your friends and shipmates. We all trust you, as all of you trust me.

We must now learn to trust ourselves..."

*

Agar did not accompany Hrelle on the tour, citing some false excuse but allowing his armed guards to show the Starfleet Captain around in Agar's absence. Hrelle didn't mind, already focused on his next moves, allowing Agar's Chief of Security, a thick slab of human named Grant, to lead the way... with two guards bringing up the rear. They were moving in a direction opposite to the one they had taken from the Port Airlock on Deck 19, but he took in the expected Jefferies Tube hatches, emergency fire suppressant and medical kits mounted in the bulkheads, communication panels- monitors overhead-

His ears twitched as he heard a woman's voice from a receiver, resting inside Grant's left ear. "Agar says not to dump him into space, his body might be seen before we're ready to deal with them. Put him in the Recyclers."

Hrelle watched Grant reach up and touch the side of the receiver, sending an acknowledgement signal.

Hrelle flexed his fingers, twisted his neck around to work out the kinks.

They stopped at the turbolifts. Hrelle stared at the back of Grant's head, smelling and listening to gauge the distance and positions of the two guards behind him. "So, what are we gonna see first?"

Grant glanced over his broad shoulder. "The Hydroponics Gardens."

"Really? Not the Recyclers?"

Grant turned and swung out with his fist, the other two charging forward.

Hrelle ducked the fist, twisting to drive a powerful kick into the second guard's groin, sending him backwards, even as he twisted to grab the third and fling him into Grant -- next time, idiots, stay back and draw your weapons -- using his claws, he raked Grant's face before diving for the fallen third guard, landing his weight on him while reaching for the weapon, confirming its design- yes, a disruptor, Romulan design, short range, 1.19 recharge cycle between shots, compensating-

He fired at the second guard, who seemed to have recovered quicker than Grant. He brought Grant down a second later.

His elbow into the third guard's face beneath him saved him a shot, even if it cost him some bloodstains on his jacket.

He fired upwards at the cameras, as he moved to the other guards, grabbing their weapons and other equipment and tucking them all into his jacket, grunting. Damn fabricators were shrinking his uniform again...

*

Deck 2 Fore -- Starboard EVA Locker Room:

C'Rash ground her teeth as she slipped her tail into the articulated tube of her exosuit, glancing at the Miradorn twins Ree-Taan and Rei-Taan. "Why aren't those rifles disassembled and stowed in the Engineering kits?"

The tall, stocky humanoid siblings with the high bisected foreheads grunted, still focused on their seemingly-constant bickering, Rei-Taan sneering at his sister. "Told you we should have put them away before now, Assface."

"Don't be such a Cringe, Nanoknob."

"You just can't stop grabbing your weapon, can you?"

"And how often has Mom had to say that to you?"

"Stow it, you pair of Crotch Itches!" Neraxis snapped, readying her exosuit helmet, her bald blue head purpling with anger. "The Captain's on his own over there! He needs us focused on the task ahead!"

In the rear of the group, Sakuth was already fully suited up, her own phaser rifle stowed in her Engineering kit. Her voice carried over her communicator to the rest of them. "It appears Captain Hrelle's decision to promote the latest cadets into full service was-"

"-His business," C'Rash interrupted, baring her teeth in the Vulcan's direction. "Not yours or anyone else's. And I have full faith that everyone here will rise to the challenge... not just for the Captain's sake, but for the rest of us." She looked to Neraxis, Thykrill, the Twins... and finally Stalac, who didn't need a suit for the excursion. "The Bridge is examining the station's features, and will feed us all the positions and targets. Mr Stalac, you know what you're doing out there already, you stay near me until we're good to go." She paused, before asking, "Is that clear, Ensign?"

The Horta rumbled, his voder unit expressing a reluctant, "Yes, Lieutenant. Very."

C'Rash looked down at him; she knew from T'Varik about Stalac's current taciturn attitude following his encounter with the Jem'Hadar, and had considered giving him some encouragement, but decided not to give Sakuth any more fuel to doubt the efficiency of her team, and brought her helmet down over her head and secured it. "Shall to Bridge: status of the Engineering team?"

T'Varik responded. "Lt Ostrow confirms another twenty minutes, Minimum. Why have you not yet ventured outside?"

She adjusted the pelvic sections of her exosuit. "This thing feels a little more snug than when I last wore it, okay?"

There was a pause, and then her partner responded with, "I will make a note to be extra vigilant in helping you work off the extra kilograms that married life has obviously encouraged."

Despite herself, and the general situation of the last few days, the jet-furred Caitian couldn't help but smile at the offer. "Well, if you really want to help, Marmalade, I wouldn't mind a spot of Fluttertail from you tonight-"

Then Sasha's voice cut in. "You two know you're not on a secure channel, don't you?"

C'Rash ground her teeth. "What do you want, Cousin?"

There was a chirp in C'Rash's ear, confirming the channel was now secured. "Just reminding you to watch yourself out there with that treacherous bitch nearby."

"Lieutenant Hrelle, Captain Sakuth remains a superior officer," T'Varik admonished.

"And yet, you knew exactly who I was talking about," Sasha pointed out.

"That will be quite enough." T'Varik paused, before adding to C'Rash, "However, were I not a consummate professional in control of my emotions, I would echo those sentiments about the treacherous bitch. Take care, Beloved."

C'Rash grunted. "Understood. Now both of you piss off and let me get going. And let me know when Jonas and his team are on their way back inside. Shall out." She turned to see the others were all ready, and opened her comm to the rest of them. "We're good to go. Remember, we're meant to look like an Engineering team, moving around out there making repairs. So act like Gearheads."

Ree-Taan reached up and smacked the back of her brother's helmet. "She said Gearhead, not Shithead. Got it?"

"You keep talking crap, your ass is gonna think it's out of a job."

Behind them, Thykrill made a sound. "How did you two make it as far as you have without killing each other?"

C'Rash moved to the airlock controls... fighting to ignore the plummeting of her stomach. Not a week ago, during the battle, Jhess and she had been in a similar place, deliberately opening an airlock into deep space to clear out a team of Jem'Hadar... only Spots and she didn't have the benefit of exosuits at the time. She was safe now, of course... but that didn't lessen the terror she now instinctively felt.

She activated the controls, hearing the air in the room hiss away rapidly, before the door slid open. She picked up the Engineering kit hiding her rifle. "Remember your training, people, and let your gravity boots do the rest. Except for you, of course, Mr Stalac. Try not to drift away."

"Understood, Lieutenant. I promised my Egg Mother I would be a rising star... not an asteroid."

C'Rash smiled.

*

On the Bridge of the Ajax, Weynik leaned forward at the sound of the alert, already guessing at it, but ordering, "Report."

Behind him, his Zakdorn First Officer Kohanim replied, "Jem'Hadar attack squadron on an intercept course, ETA five minutes!"

"Red Alert!" As the lights eclipsed into crimson around him, Weynik leaned back. "Arm phasers and torpedoes, raise shields-"

"Captain!" Kohanim interrupted. "Incoming transmission from the Mother's Fury!"

The Roylan lifted up his head. What were they doing? They should have been readying for the inevitable fight as well! "Onscreen!"

The starfield at warp on the viewscreen was replaced by a dark, long Bridge more resembling a Klingon design, with Caitians at various stations, and a more familiar female Caitian in an elevated chair. "Fleet Captain, what's-"

Ma'Sala Shall interrupted him. "Power down your weapons and shields, reduce speed to Warp Three, and take your vessel in to run a parallel course fifty metres over our starboard deflector array."

"What? With respect, Fleet Captain, we don't need your protection, we can manage ourselves in a fight quite well, thank you!"

The black-furred Caitian female's topaz eyes narrowed. "We're out here to find and retrieve the Surefoot. Fighting now will only attract unwanted attention. Do as I tell you."

"You intend to protect us with your shields? What's the point? They'll still call for reinforcements-"

"Captain Weynik, there is a time to growl," she informed him. "And a time to Prowl. Follow my lead."

He was ready to argue further... until she said the word 'Prowl'. And then he wasn't. He cocked his head. "Power down weapons and shields. Helm, drop speed, and take us in as advised."

The transmission ended, returning the image of space dilated at warp speed.

"Captain," Kohanim protested, his oatmeal-coloured face blanching. "We'll be defenceless."

"No, we won't." He swallowed, turning to look at his First Officer. "In fact, I think they'll pass us completely."

Kohanim frowned... but quickly comprehended, and recovered, his hands moving over his station controls. "Shutting down active scans, tightening energy signatures... temporarily turning off Ship's Logs."

From her own station at Ops, Weynik's new Second Officer, a green-skinned Rigelian male name Bezrek, looked up and frowned. "Captain, I must confess to a total ignorance as to what we are doing."

Weynik nodded. "Good, Lieutenant. For the sake of plausible deniability, you need to remain in that state." He looked ahead, seeing the edge of the prow of the Mother's Fury just beneath them, close enough that they were almost touching hulls... and imagining the Prowl, the cloaking device he knew the Caitians employed on occasion, enveloping both vessels. He had employed one such cloak previously on the Ajax, when Sasha was still onboard, in their mission against the Ferasans, a clear violation of the Treaty of Algeron, which applied not only to Starfleet vessels, but also vessels of the member worlds of the Federation.

But he also knew that the Caitians were different from other member worlds, with a long and contentious history against outside forces, and it wasn't his place to lecture them. Not that they'd listen to him anyway, or that he could deny the benefits of a cloak at times like this.

And he certainly didn't want to risk themselves before they found Captain Meatball... or worse, risk Ma'Sala's wrath.

"The Jem'Hadar attack force is approaching," Kohanim announced, his voice low, hesitant, as if afraid to be too loud and attract the enemy's attention. "Approaching..." Then he breathed out. "And passing us. With no evidence of their detecting us."

"Good." Weynik nodded, forcing himself to relax his hold on the arms of his chair. "Not that we couldn't have handled them ourselves single-handedly, of course."

"Oh, absolutely, Captain," Kohanim agreed... a little too dryly for Weynik's tastes.

*

As alarms blared around him, Hrelle set another disruptor on Self-Destruct, resting it against a particular ODN junction, before scurrying away down a vertical Jefferies Tube as quickly as he could, reminded of an ancient computer game a much-younger Sasha had been addicted to one summer: some noisy two-dimensional nightmare where a big yellow ball kept eating little white balls in a maze, as ghosts chased around, the yellow ball occasionally gaining the upper hand by eating certain balls (there was an odd obsession about balls) that let the player eat the ghosts before the ghosts ate the player. Sasha loved it, Hrelle complained about the noise of it... though on more than a few nights, he tried it himself to try and show off to his stepdaughter.

Above him, the disruptor detonated, the blast wave travelling down and washing compressed air over him, even as the destroyed junction, and the others he had deliberately taken out, left large sections of the station in the dark, powerless and blind to those watching in safety from Ops. Meanwhile, he nought himself some more time, before the ghosts caught up and ate his balls.

Memory and experience told him to avoid the Armoury and Shuttledeck, targets he hoped the enemy would think he'd be aiming for, aiming for the less obvious but also less secure areas, like the Barracks and Recreation Decks.

The earpiece he had liberated from one of the fallen guards confirmed his hopes. "We've lost power on Deck 19! It's chaos down here!"

"Double the guards on all access into 17 and 18! The Captain's making his way up there!"

"What about his ship? If they get wind of what's going on-"

"They won't if you people do your jobs and kill the fat bastard!"

Hrelle frowned, making his way further down, then along a cross-tube again. How rude...

*

This... was fricking weird.

C'Rash stayed focused on the practised cycle of walking with the pace that allowed her gravity boots to safely carry her along the hull of the top of the Surefoot, but couldn't help but look up and around. She was used to real-life and holographic representations of extravehicular activities, where the starfield on display was... normal.

Here, however, within the warping properties of the station's cloaking field, and without the computerised compensation of a viewscreen, the space made her feel like she was in a bottle dropped into an ocean, with the universe beyond insanely distorted through the glass.

That she knew the looming station overhead had weapons trained in their direction didn't help her mood. "Alright, Boys and Girls, we're on a Secure Channel, but we'll stick to Standard Code Designations. Rockstar: stick with me. Big Blue: move to the Starboard Aft Vent. Little Blue: the Port Aft. Tweedledee, Tweedledum: take positions at the base of the ship registry pawprint emblem. Evil Queen of Lies: move to the Central Maintenance Strut near Bridge Module Hatch One."

The other members of her team complied, though Sakuth remained where she was, the consternation on her face visible through the clear visor of her helmet. "Have you selected what is obviously my designation in order to be deliberately provocative, Lieutenant?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Evil Queen. Please take your assigned position."

The Vulcan turned and proceeded without further comment.

C'Rash forced down her plummeting stomach to move towards Bridge Module Hatch Two, Stalac following, his voice carrying into her helmet from his bolted combadge via a secure channel. "Lieutenant, is it an inopportune moment to ask you a personal question?"

C'Rash ground her fangs, regretting showing a lack of discipline in front of more impressionable crewmates. "Ignore the banter between Captain Sakuth and me, Ensign-"

"I am not referring to whatever is obviously ongoing between you two, Ma'am," he informed her. "It is none of my affair."

She nodded in reply, before she realised that doing that, inside her helmet, beside a being with no eyes, was a pointless exercise. "You may ask, Mr Stalac. You're not guaranteeed an answer, however."

"I understand. Lieutenant, how do you deal with killing in the line of duty?"

She had been ready to dismiss his request -- she wasn't out here to have a heart-to-heart with a living rock -- but on the other hand, they had time to kill... and a part of her was genuine in wanting to help him. "You listen to others, Ensign. You listen to experts. To the people who are there to help you. You do not listen to the voice inside you. The one telling you the worst about you. Calling you a killer, a monster. That Inner Voice is talking crap. It does not have your best interests at heart.

As for your own case, if it helps, I've added my own comments to the reports about your encounter, declaring that in my professional opinion, given the circumstances at the time, given your physical abilities and limitations, and the lack of weaponry, reinforcements, or access to any other means of containing or subduing the enemy, you did the only thing possible to prevent further loss of life. And Captain Hrelle and Commander T'Varik have formally agreed with my comments."

After a moment, Stalac responded with, "Thank you, Lieutenant."

In C'Rash's helmet, T'Varik's voice cut in. "Lt Shall, Mr Ostrow and his team have completed their work, and are proceeding back to the ventral hatch."

"Acknowledged. Feed us the computer's visual assessment of our targets. Mr Stalac, start moving towards the clamps, as if you're inspecting something. Act Gearheady."

On the surface of her helmet, data and symbols appeared. C'Rash looked up at the upper half of the station, guiding where she looked to match the indicated points. "All of you can see the weapons pods on the higher struts; on my signal, you hit that first, I want it taken out immediately. Big Blue, Little Blue, your next target together is the Port Dampening Array. Tweedledum, Tweedledee, you two take out the Starboard Dampening Array. Evil Queen, you'll manage their Cloaking Array, and then assist the others as and when required.

And bear in mind that we'll most likely be making some unexpected manoeuvres. Be ready to increase your boots' gravity fields. Rockstar... you'll be fine."

She watched as her team began kneeling and opening their kits, C'Rash doing the same, glad to get this mission underway finally.

*

"Captain," Kohanim announced from his station. "Message from the Mother's Fury."

Weynik had been studying the tactical sensor logs, seeing the changes in the enemy's patrols, noting how they had obviously were trying to herd the Surefoot in a certain direction, and how his old buddy had obviously seen it too. Now he looked up. "Onscreen."

Ma'Sala's face appeared. "Captain, we're changing course for the Skrysa system, Maximum Warp."

He straightened up. "You have something?"

She nodded. "I have a viridium tracker on the Surefoot, we've tracked her into that system... and now the signal's disappeared."

Weynik's eyestalks focused on the Caitian. A viridium tracker? Should he even bother lecturing her on the many violations something like that has triggered? A second later, he just replied, "Let's go! Ajax out!"

Seconds later, both vessels were dilating space to the point where their engines were whining in protest. "Helm, ETA!"

"ETA ten minutes to Skrysa system, Sir!"