Surefoot 56: Shelter from the Storm

"That would be most wise, Sir."

*

"Captain's Log, Stardate , Captain Esek Hrelle, Recording: We are proceeding back to the Thirteenth Fleet, ETA 1 day. My eternal thanks to Captain Weynik of the Ajax, and Fleet Captain Ma'Sala Shall of the Mother's Fury, for their indispensable aid in making this possible. I am also placing notes of commendation in the records of my First Officer, Second Officer and Chief of Security. In fact, there are too many people who have worked together to help us all survive.

And that's where Agar and his ilk go wrong. They were correct, but only in the notion that our civilisation was not invulnerable, that it could collapse. But for them, survival meant ruthlessness, cruelty, an abandonment of principle. For them, survival was worthwhile at any price.

Speaking for myself, for civilisation to survive, it must remain civilised.

In addition to the survivors of the Battle of Khavak, we now have twenty additional passengers, the civilian children from the former colony on New Masshad. My wife and the other Counselors have been speaking with them, have gathered their details, and will be forwarded to Admiral Tattok, to inform their next of kin of their status as soon as possible. Meanwhile, my nanny is earning his pay and then some with these extra cubs, keeping them engaged.

My own wounds have been repaired, and I am thankful not only to be back on my feet, but finally on our way home. After this, I could do with a rest-"

His doorchime interrupted him, and he closed the log to rise and approach. "Enter."

Captain Price appeared, the man looking pensive, cordial. "Captain, I hope I'm not disturbing you."

Hrelle shook his head. "I'd say that I wasn't doing anything, Nathan, but as a fellow Captain, you'd know better." He smiled. "But there's always time for you. What's up?"

Price frowned. "Things will be hectic in the coming days and weeks, so I won't have a chance later, but I... I wanted to apologise for my behaviour, since Khavak. I had the opportunity to speak with those children you rescued on that space station. They told me about what you did to save them, the risks you took.... the same risks you've taken for all of us, since the battle.

I've... I've not behaved as befits an officer and a gentleman towards you, or how you've run your ship and crew. I could excuse it as the shock over losing my own ship, so many of my people... but, as a fellow Captain, you'd know better."

Hrelle sobered. "I am sorry for your loss, Nathan. I've been there myself. It's not a club whose membership I'd wish on anyone. Thank you for coming here." He extended his paw.

Price accepted it.

*

Deck 2 Fore -- Officers' Mess:

Zir had tried to finish her soup; even with the restoration of the replicators, and some promised transfer of base matter from the Ajax in the next day, it was still prudent and sensible to keep her strength up.

But her hunger was eclipsed by her fascination, at watching her squadmate Stalac consume yet another ration of rocks and metals, in a fizzle of acid secretion. "Mmm... topaline and copper. Good friend Urad, could I impose-"

The others at the table groaned; Urad, his muzzle full of his own meal, made a noise, prompting Peter, sitting beside him, to pat his friend on his wide shoulder and rise. "My turn, Big Guy."

Astrid smiled. "Think those huge manly muscles of yours can cart over some, oh, lead or neutronium for our friend?"

Stalac rumbled at Zir's feet. "No, Friend Astrid, neutronium is far too stodgy for my tastes... and far too heavy for even Urad to pick up."

Urad swallowed what was in his muzzle and looked up indignantly. "You challenge me, Comrades? I can move worlds with the proper leverage!"

"Forget worlds," Tori chuckled. "Save your strength for Rocky's turds! They're gonna be mahoosive to shift!"

The Horta rotated to face the girl. "Forgive me for correcting you and risking a vitriolic volley, Friend Tori, but my digestive system is exceedingly efficient. I do not produce excretions."

"Not normally," Peter pointed out, returning from the replicators with a tray of quartz marbles, watching them roll about as he set it down beside Stalac. "But you've been eating far more than normal. You might end up... needing a toilet break."

Zir's eyes saucered. "But there is no toilet equipped for him onboard! What the Hell is he gonna do?"

"We'll ask the Captain to pull over to the side of the road and send him out into the bushes!" Tori guffawed.

*

Hrelle tensed as he heard the feral, guttural noises from one cell... and smelled the fear from his people.

He took in the scene in the Brig instantly: the Jem'Hadar, together, getting louder, wilder, their pain almost palpable, while Neraxis and the others stood on this side of the force field, phaser rifles in hand, as if the agony the enemy were undergoing could be used to break them free.

In the adjacent cell, the Cardassian POWs watched, their leader, one identified in the records he read as Glinn Drurocc, regarding the new arrival, and speaking above the din. "I presume you are the redoubtable Captain Hrelle I've heard so much about? Have you finally come to do your job?"

Hrelle shot him the barest of glances, before striding up to Neraxis, never taking his eyes off of the Jem'Hadar. "Lieutenant, take your people into the corridor outside and wait there."

The young Bolian frowned. "Sir?"

"No one gets in here. No one. Is that understood?"

She glanced at the rest of her Security team, before nodding. "Aye, Sir." They filed out.

Hrelle continued to stare at them, seeing the intense pain in their faces, their strides, hearing it in the guttural sounds they made.

"Are you just going to stand there-" Drurocc continued.

He lost the thread of his complaint as Hrelle roared loudly at the Jem'Hadar.

They stopped behind the force field momentarily, their attention rapt on him.

"Do you want to die fighting?" he bellowed at them. "Like warriors? With weapons in your hand?"

That caught their focus further.

"We can't help you survive," he continued. "We can't even sedate you, or put you in stasis. You'll tear each other apart in there in the next hour, before the last one dies in agony. But there's a Klingon Bird of Prey decloaked off our starboard side right now. They missed out on joining the earlier battle. But they still thirst for combat, as you do. If you want, we can beam you over there, with your bladed weapons, and let you die as warriors, with honour." He paused, ending with, "If that's what you want, of course."

One of the Jem'Hadar leaned in until the force field sizzled with protest, his reptilian face contorted with pain but still able to reply hoarsely, "Y-Yes- W-We want that. P-Please..."

Hrelle nodded curtly, moving to the Security station and keying in some commands. "Captain to Bridge: I've disabled the Security features. Beam the confiscated Jem'Hadar weapons into their cell."

"Aye, Sir."

Seconds later, columns of sparkling transporter energy produced a number of sharp-edged, sharp-pointed arms around the Jem'Hadar, the soldiers immediately grabbing onto them like lifelines, glancing to each other with exultation... and back at Hrelle in sheer disbelief.

Hrelle worked the controls again. "Bridge, I'm taking transporter control from here now."

"Acknowledged, Sir."

He keyed in a final sequence, before looking up at the armed prisoners. "Victory is Life."

As one, they raised their weapons to the ceiling, their agony momentarily suppressed. "VICTORY IS LIFE!"

He committed the final sequence.

The interior of the cell was suffused with transporter energy.

And then they were gone.

There was silence, before Drurocc commented, "I hope your Klingon friends are prepared for them, Captain. Even in their current state, they will be formidable."

Hrelle continued to stare at the empty cell, his voice blank. "There are no Klingons. I overrode the safety protocols and set the transporter on a wide beam, dispersing their quantum patterns into space without reforming them."

The Cardassian Glinn made a sound of regard. "You lied to them... to give your hated enemy, who had killed untold numbers of your people, a final moment of clarity and purpose, however false, before mercy killing them..."

The Caitian Captain looked down at the controls on the Brig station, his voice a low growl like an ancient engine idling in the distance. "Yes. They killed. And we killed back. But I had no desire to make them suffer. Great Mother help those whom I want to make suffer." He looked up at them. "We'll be rendezvousing with another Starfleet vessel in an hour's time; you'll be transferred into their custody, and then transported to the POW camps on New Halana, where you'll face a War Crimes Court."

"'War Crimes'?" Drurocc sneered. "We were soldiers, engaged in lawful combat-"

Hrelle faced him, baring his teeth. "You attempted to rape a member of my crew. The forensic evidence and witness statements have all been filed. Save your arguments for your trial." He turned to the doors.

The Cardassian watched him move out, smiling now. "Give our best to Ensign Emoto. Tell her she's welcome to come visit us anytime, and we'll finally break the little virgin in like we promised her."

Hrelle stopped before the doors parted.

He stared at the stark finish before him.

Then he returned to the Brig station, keying in more commands.

"Are you calling her down now, Captain?" Drurocc chuckled, glancing at his equally-amused men. "A little Going Away Present? Maybe you can send us that curvy Orion slut as well for dessert?"

Hrelle ignored him. Then a female voice sounded. "Captain, why are you overriding the transporter safety protocols again?"

He didn't respond.

"Captain?" Drurocc asked, sounding wary now. "What are you doing?"

"Captain," the female voice continued, "You have locked onto the Cardassian prisoners for transport. But there is no destination for them but open space. If you continue-"

Hrelle reached out and cut off the transmission.

Drurocc and the other Cardassians straightened up, growing anxious. "Captain, is this some sort of sick joke?"

Then the computer's voice announced, "Sixty seconds to Transport."

Hrelle stepped back and approached the cell. "You won't be turned into energy like the Jem'Hadar. You'll reform whole, in space. The first thing you'll notice, apart from the lack of gravity, is of course the lack of air. You won't lose consciousness right away. It might take up to a minute, as your bodies use up the remaining oxygen reserves from your bloodstream."

"Fifty seconds to Transport."

Drurocc shook his head in rising fearful denial. "What are you doing?"

"If you don't hold your breath," Hrelle continued, deadpan. "It will be relatively painless. If you do, though, the loss of external pressure will cause the gas inside your lungs to expand, which will rupture your lungs and release air -- very painfully -- into your circulatory system."

"Forty seconds to Transport."

"Of course, the gas in your digestive tracts will go first, you can't do anything about that, and it'll feel like a phaser grenade's detonated in your guts."

Panic bubbled in Drurocc. "You can't do this to us!"

"Your skin and subdermal tissue will swell," the Caitian informed them calmly. "As the water in your body starts to vaporise in the absence of atmospheric pressure. The exposed moisture on your tongues and eyeballs will boil. When you inevitably piss yourselves, that'll boil too, over your genitals."

"Thirty seconds to Transport... Twenty-Nine... Twenty-Eight..."

"You'll flail," Hrelle told them, his teeth bared. "You'll panic. You'll beg to gods you never knew existed for help. You'll be completely helpless.

And you'll know what Tori Emoto felt in your filthy hands."

The other Cardassians were shouting, begging, Drurocc slamming his fists against the force field, his eyes wide with terror. "This is murder! You can't do this! STOP IT!"

"Twenty... Nineteen... Eighteen..."

"I can do anything," Hrelle informed him. "Alter the records. Give any statement about what happened in here. You think anyone is going to care about you?"

"Captain, I beg of you! Don't do this!"

"Ten... Nine... Eight..."

"CAPTAIN! PLEASE! WE'RE SORRY!" Drurocc pleaded.

"I believe you," Hrelle told him.

But he made no move to stop the sequence.

"Three... Two..."

"Watch that first step," he advised. "It's a doozy..."

"One... Initiating Transport."

Drurocc and the Cardassians screamed as they vanished into quantum oblivion.

Hrelle stared at the empty cell for a moment, before tapping his combadge. "Well, Commander?"

After another moment, T'Varik replied, "The Cardassians have been successfully transported to the Ajax, Sir. And Captain Weynik is asking why they're screaming. And why they have soiled themselves."

The Caitian breathed in. "Inform him that they needed a lesson in fear. Thank you for your cooperation in making the lesson possible, T'Varik."

"I am certain I have no idea what you're referring to, Sir."

*

"Commander, may I have a word, please?"

T'Varik looked up from behind the desk in the Captain's Ready Room. "Mr Arrington?"

Giles stood at the open doorway, but now entered, looking uneasy. "I, ah, was looking for the Captain-"

"The Captain is on medical leave following his wounds. He attempted to circumvent this, until Counselor Hrelle ordered him to take their cubs to the Arboretum to relax, prior to a family reunion with their grandmother when Fleet Captain Shall visits. What do you require?"

He stepped in, his face reddening. "I, ah, I know you're busy, and, um, you don't appreciate having your time wasted-"

"And yet despite this, you still seem unable to be direct." But as she leaned back in the chair, her expression offered a lightness of tone.

Giles swallowed. "Commander, I've been speaking with Lieutenant Velkovsky. She says she'll be taking extended leave to be with Lt Neheru while he recovers from his injuries. You need an experienced Flight Control Officer. I'm offering..." He paused and swallowed again. "I'm formally requesting a transfer to the Surefoot on a permanent basis, as a Helmsman."

She steepled her fingers together before her. "Starfleet Intelligence is no longer satisfactory for you?"

Giles glanced down at himself before replying. "It's... not for me. I know the value of the work they do, and have met many operatives who were fine people as well as Starfleet officers. But... it's not for me. Or, as Sasha liked to put it, 'Anyone who knows you, Giles, would never associate you with intelligence.'"

"Undoubtedly." She regarded him. "We don't need you as a Helmsman, Giles."

His expression stiffened, but he comported himself professionally. "I understand, Commander. Thank you for listening-"

"I am not finished speaking," she continued. "We need you as a Chief Helmsman."

He blinked. "Ma'am?"

She rose. "In addition to your primary duties, you will also be required to continue to instruct the Flight Ops cadets who have recently been field-promoted by Captain Hrelle, along with all the other cadets; they may have technically graduated, but they still need to earn the required number of credits to make their qualifications. And you yourself will need to take and pass the required Instructor courses with immediate effect; I can expedite the Academy accreditation, but there is much work ahead of you." She paused. "Assuming of course that you are willing to take the position."

Giles breathed in sharply. "Yes. Yes I do, Ma'am. Do you think Captain Hrelle will agree to it?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You should be aware that you are not the first to broach the subject of your transferring back to the Surefoot permanently: Captain Hrelle, Counselor Hrelle, Lieutenant Hrelle-"

Something like a surprised laugh escaped him. "What, all the Hrelles? Even the cubs?"

She offered a wry expression in response. "Misha has always offered positive support for you, for your skills as a surrogate big brother. However, you will find Sreen to be far more critical... especially in defence of her sister."

"Sist- you mean Sasha?"

"Yes. I am uncertain how long she will remain onboard in her capacity as Second Officer, but in her time she has performed with distinction, especially given the traumas she, like the rest of us, has undergone in recent times. I would be disapproving of any emotional complications she might now experience as a result of ill-judged actions from former lovers of hers." She frowned. "I would be very disapproving. Are we clear, Mr Arrington?"

Giles' face reddened to unprecedented shades. "Crystal, Commander."

She nodded with satisfaction, rising to her feet and approaching. "I will initiate the appropriate administrative processes and inform the Captain and others in due course." She held out her hand. "But for now: welcome back, Giles. It will be an honour to serve with you again."

He smiled, accepting her hand. "The honour will be mine, Commander."

Then she drew back. "Dismissed."

She watched him depart, and was on her way back to the desk when the doorchime alerted her. "Come."

Jonas Ostrow stepped inside, his expression urgent. "Commander! We need to talk!"

The Vulcan tensed at his emotional state. "Lieutenant, what is wrong?"

He stepped closer, handing her a PADD. "It's about what I found outside."

"The Shiprot infestation?"

"That's just it, it wasn't Shiprot. I've dealt with that stuff plenty of times, as you know. The damage to the hull and the subdermal layers appears identical to Shiprot, but the spread patterns seem to deliberately avoid going near the containment tanks or interconnectors."

T'Varik peered at the report on the PADD. "You are correct. It is not probable that metal-eating microorganisms would behave in such a manner."

"But Nanites would," Jonas confirmed. "I took a sample from the hull after we ran the gamma beams. I also had Doc Masterson run a physical check of the Sickbay stores; samples of medical Nanites are missing, and the theft concealed." He looked at her. "I just can't figure out the reasons behind it. Who would fake a Shiprot infestation?"

T'Varik frowned. "Someone contriving to make herself appear valuable to this ship and crew..."

*

Deck 3 Fore -- Arboretum:

Hrelle lay on his belly in the moist, rich dirt alongside his son, watching the pupa of some insect pulsate, the lifeform within getting ready to emerge, Hrelle enjoying the rapt fascination of his son at the simple, elegant biological process, as much as the process itself, and he spoke with a teasing whisper. "I bet there's a Tandaran Razorwing in there. Or even a Giant Three-Headed Ghidorah!"

Misha frowned at him. "No, Papa! It's gonna be a Betazoid Arrowheart Butterfly!"

"Oh? And how do you know that, Cub of Mine?"

Misha reached out, pointing at but not touching the pupa casing. "The stripes! Jhess showed us!"

"Oh. Well, far be it from me to contradict Doctor Amazing." He reached up and tousled Misha's head fur. "And how is my son doing? How are you feeling?"

Misha scowled to himself, staying silent.

"What is it?" he prompted gently, letting his reassuring purr travel through his touch to the cub. "What are you feeling right now?"

Misha kept staring at the pupa, his eyes looking wet. "Scared. Don't want to fight the Jemmies again. Don't wanna fight anyone anymore. Don't like it."

Hrelle nodded, leaning in closer to put his whole arm around his son. "I don't want to fight either. I never really want to fight, to hurt people, or get hurt. And if you never want to fight anyone anymore, your Mama and I will do everything we can to make sure that doesn't happen. All that you should be worrying about is playing, and studying, and eating, and farting-"