Surefoot 59: The Burning World

Now he looked up. "You're joking."

The Orion woman slammed her hand down on the table beside the bunk, making the cutlery rattle and her friend start. "Do you think I'm in the mood for joking, Peter? You took our shuttle, raced out here on your own, left us worried sick about you! Even if you'd made it in the Littlepaw before the Surefoot caught up with you -- which wouldn't have happened, by the way - what were you going to do when the Dominion detected you? They'd have blown you away without a second thought! And then what would have happened to Abby?"

The mention of his daughter's name took the proverbial wind out of his sails, and he stepped back. "I... I'm sorry, Zir. I'm sorry... I- I had to do something-"

"I know, Peter. I know you acted on instinct. But you also know we can't just do that in every situation. It works fine when your hand is in a fire. Not so much for more complicated matters." She nodded to the food. "Everyone's missing you, hiding in here like you're doing now. So eat. Then go have a shower; you need it."

He flushed a little. "Am I that bad?"

"Not usually... but it's kind of cramped in here. And Urad can't fit into the sonic shower onboard."

*

In the Tailless cockpit, Astrid once again thanked the Fates for the opportunity to have something vital to do up here, instead of hanging around in the rest of this marvellous ship, where the tension had been rising since they left the Claridon almost a day before.

At least there was an additional distraction from the delicious Giles Arrington, who seemingly was just as reluctant to get involved in the petty bickering that was rising among the others. "So, the Caitian warp designers seem to prefer greater short-term high warp velocities, even at the expense of a shorter warp core lifespan than Starfleet vessels?"

Giles nodded, keeping his eyes on the controls and displays. "Yes. There was a Caitian Flight Ops cadet on Alpha Squad after I moved to command another squad, and we used to talk a lot on the subject. He said Caitian mentality leans towards the short-term sprint and pounce, over more lengthy marathons, and that mentality lends itself to ship design, weapons design-"

She grinned. "I can appreciate that. When I want something, I go for it. How about you, Giles? Do you like to... sprint and pounce?"

Giles frowned slightly, and then said, "On approach to the Gault system; refocus the sensor algorithms to Passive."

She let her fingers move over her controls. "Passive sensor algorithms engaged." Then she faced him again, smiling once more. "I can't help but notice that you haven't answered my question, Giles-"

Now he faced her, his expression almost stern. "It's 'Lieutenant', Ensign. I'm your superior officer; your familiarity is inappropriate."

Astrid swallowed, feeling her face heat up. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I was only having some fun."

He softened his mien, a little. "I understand. But I'm also the ship's Chief Flight Officer, and your immediate supervisor." He breathed out. "After Khavak, I felt lost. I'd worked in Starfleet Logistics, Intelligence... but only back on the Surefoot have I felt like I belong. I'm not betraying the faith that Captain Hrelle and Commander T'Varik have put in me, by acting in anything other than a totally professional way. Is that understood, Ensign?"

Astrid nodded at that. "I'm sorry, Sir, I'm really sorry."

"Forget it." After a moment, "Astrid... you know, you're very talented, intelligent, capable... and if it wasn't inappropriate to say, you're very attractive as well. You don't need cheap innuendos."

He turned to face forward.

She did the same, muttering, "Cheap? I paid good money for those innuendos."

He chuckled.

She joined him... suddenly feeling relieved at no longer feeling the need to keep up an impression. Or a mask.

*

Sasha lay in her bunk, aware now of how much she could hear outside her door: too much.

In the day since collecting Mr Boone and increasing their speed to Gault, after she had spent her time perusing the data from the Caitians on the Dominion force awaiting them: a main ship of obvious Dominion design, but smaller than the battleships she had encountered before, and lacking many of the expected armaments, with support by a half-dozen Jem'Hadar Scarab ships.

They could easily chase off the retreating grain freighters, and knock out the system's subspace communications beacons, but otherwise it hardly seemed enough to hold a planet, even one as sparsely populated and armed as Gault. Or to hold off against the inevitable counter-offensive from Starfleet. At any rate, the Prowl unit on her ship would get her past them to find and retrieve Boone's cub.

In the meantime, she had learned to differentiate the voices of each of the many passengers onboard... or in the case of Urad Kaldron and Stalac, by the effort they took to just move through some of the narrower passages between the sections of her ship.

And each time she heard someone went by, she waited for them to stop and knock again-

Someone knocked.

Now she indulged in who it might be this time: Giles or Astrid, informing her of a recall message from her Dad or the Fleet; Zir, complaining about the alleged superior attitudes of Sasha's former Squad against Zir's current one; Neraxis, complaining about exactly the same thing in the opposite direction; and finally Eydiir, to lecture her again about something. At least Kit and Stalac kept themselves amused by remaining in the aft compartment, playing games or talking scientific crap-

The knock repeated, its strength and curtness telling Sasha who it was; the fact that the Capellan opened the door herself and entered confirmed it. The woman took the seat at the desk, as Sasha closed the door. "Wow, there was a time when you wouldn't have even knocked. Old age must be softening you."

Eydiir looked up at her. "You need to consider the examples you're setting to others."

Sasha crossed her arms. "Oh? I'm setting examples, am I? I never knew."

"Don't be obtuse, like that hideous off-duty leather jacket you prefer, it ill-suits you."

Sasha frowned; she liked that jacket... "You're disagreeing now with my decision to go collect the cub? Because back on the Claridon you were all gung-ho about it!"

"Not with that decision, but with the subsequent ones. You have chosen to defy protocol to engage in this unauthorised activity without informing your superiors."

"Command prerogative."

"You have chosen to spend your time in here, keeping your own counsel and ignoring the tensions among our two groups."

"We're all professionals, it's not like it's a screaming match out there."

"You have chosen to allow the younger, more impressionable members of the Surefoot crew to accompany us, putting them at unnecessary risk."

"They've been blooded. They've fought, killed, been wounded. As a Capellan, you should appreciate that."

"As a nurse, I appreciate more the psychological issues you deal with: your post-traumatic stress, your risk addiction, your desire to emulate your father while also trying to be your own woman-"

"Really, Doctor Kibitzer?" Sasha mocked, leaning against her door. "Such brilliant skills you demonstrate, without even a formal examination-"

"I've read Kami's files on you. I know what's been addressed."

Sasha glared at her, before motioning to the sunken wardrobe. "Why don't you go through my underwear drawer while you're here?"

"There is no need; I have seen your underwear plenty of times, and I have never been impressed."

Sasha stepped forward, dropping her arms. "Why are you busting my balls like this? What's the point?"

Eydiir rose to her feet again. "Because you've taken command, but you chose to try and remain detached from it. Some Captains might choose that path, but it doesn't generate esprit de corps. Your father knows this, and that is why he is always in the forefront, among the crew during crises-"

"I'm not my father!" Sasha snapped.

"No," Eydiir conceded, softening her tone and posture. "And nor should you be. You will have to make your own path. But you can still learn from him. Everyone onboard is your responsibility. You can't just sit in here all the time brooding and drinking Spican flame whiskey."

"I'm not doing that!"

Eydiir nodded to the shelf with the bottles. "May I then assume that the decreasing levels in the bottle since I last visited are from evaporation?" Then she softened her approach. "Sasha... Sister... I will stand by you and face Death in whatever form it appears. But I will not be a palliative. You need to step out of here, be a part of this crew you have assembled. To be the commander I know you can be."

Sasha stared back... but before she could respond, they heard an argument from outside, and emerged to the rear compartment, an area was dominated by a collapsible dining/games table, surrounded by cushioned seats at three sides. The young Engineering cadet, Tori Emoto, was in Neraxis' face. "Mind your own fricking business!"

The Bolian's blue face was darkening with barely-contained anger. "He's my damn husband! You talk crap about him, you answer to me!"

Nearby, Urad Kaldron literally filled the doorway into the Aft Compartment, clearly conflicted between his squadmate and the woman who had been his superior officer while on the Surefoot. "Please, Comrade Ladies, there is no need-"

Behind Sasha, Zir and Jonas appeared, each one appearing over her shoulders like some little angels and devils to try and tempt her towards one path or another, each one butting in. "Ner-Ner, what's up?" "Lieutenant, what are you doing with my squadmate?"

Sasha raised a hand to either side of her to cut them off, before saying calmly, "Withdraw, Neraxis, and tell me what's caused all this."

Neraxis took a step backwards, still glaring at Tori as she explained, "This little Gearhead is spouting her mouth off about Jonas! Just because he wants to help her!"

"I don't need his fricking help!" Tori snapped. "Not from him or the rest of these old bastards!"

"Tori, calm down!" Zir ordered.

Next to her, Jonas was trying to move around Sasha, keeping his tone measured, "Ensign Emoto, if I overstepped with my offer, I apologise."

Now Neraxis turned to her husband. "You don't have to apologise to any of these ungrateful Squabs, Scrappy!"

Urad stepped out of the doorway and literally into the argument, grumbling, "We are not Squabs, Comrade Lieutenant. You would be wise to remember that."

Neraxis drew up to him, unintimidated. "You'll be whatever the Hell I say you are, Squab!"

"ALL OF YOU SHUT UP!" Sasha shouted, looking around at them and breathing out. "This argument ends now! No more offers, no more insults, no more threats, no more apologies, no more nothing!" She focused on Tori. "And you! Watch the mouth when you're speaking either to or about superior officers! Is that clear?"

Tori blanched, glancing at Zir before nodding and replying curtly, "Yes, Ma'am."

Sasha grunted, noting how everyone else onboard had gathered behind her to witness the end of the argument, accentuating her ship's overcrowded status. "Anyone on Sleep Shift, return to it, now! We arrive in the Gault system in a few hours! I want everyone on alert for that point!"

Sasha turned, ignoring the look on Eydiir's face, imagining how her Dad felt whenever Kami proved to be right. Again.

*

In the rear of the ship, Kit sat cross-legged at the edge of the open compartment where Stalac sat, their conversation momentarily set aside as they listened to the argument beyond, the Horta asking quietly, "Should we intervene?"

The reptoid set aside his PADD. "I doubt if our inclusion would assist in relieving the tension, Good Friend Stalac. Better if we stay separate. Would you care for some more topaline marbles?"

"I shouldn't have more, I'm putting on the kilos just sitting in here." After a pause, he added, "Still, since they're already replicated..."

Kit wheezed with mild laughter and reached into the bowl to his left, gathering a few black marbles in his webbed hand and dropping them into the compartment with a series of loud clacks, following by a rumble and sizzle as the Horta moved over the minerals and carefully dissolved them into his system without damaging the surrounding compartment.

Meanwhile Kit opened the container of beetles and shot his tongue into the remaining mass, snagging one and swallowing it... and then indulging in another. And another.

"Lieutenant Kitirik," Stal continued, after finishing digesting his snack, "May I ask a question of you?"

Kit reluctantly refastened the lid before indulging in a fourth beetle, before replying, "As your supervisor, colleague, friend and kindred intellect, I can confirm that you may always ask a question of me."

"Thank you. I have been away from my people for almost five years now, among beings radically different from me. I believe I have been most successful in understanding their ways; indeed, it was been very illuminating, as fascinating as studying subspace phenomena or fractal mathematics.

But... it can sometimes be overwhelming, being singular. I understand that you might be in a similar situation?"

Kit made a sound. "Indeed, Good Friend Stalac. My people's planet is non-aligned, the numbers of us off-world very small... and I am currently a political exile, and the only one of my kind in Starfleet."

The Horta rumbled. "Then you are in a more dire situation than I; at least I can visit my homeworld. I am sorry if my question causes you emotional distress."

The reptoid reached down and patted Stalac's lumpy carapace. "No distress has been inflicted upon me, I can assure you. And yes, at times I have felt isolated. As supportive and welcoming as my friends are, and as much as I can appreciate the similarities we share, I can still feel alienated at times.

And I daresay any alienation you feel, as a non-bipedal silicon-based lifeform, is far more acute than mine. After all, how many of us can properly understand the joys of tunnelling, or the sublime taste of lanthanides and actinides?"

Kit paused and sighed. "There is no cure for what we experience, except to remind ourselves that as close as our friends are, they will never properly appreciate the joys of tunnelling using one's own acid secretions, or in my case the sublime taste of live crickets... just as you will never properly appreciate the grasp of a hand, or the experience of shaving.

Even among the humans, who often seem exceedingly similar there is uniqueness. Embrace our uniqueness."

Stalac rumbled. "Thank you, Sir."

"Please, Respected Colleague, off-duty you may refer to me as Kit." He picked up his PADD. "Now, I believe you mentioned earlier that you were having some difficulty grasping the multidimensional dynamics of rotating black holes. I will be happy to go through the data with you. I once had the rare opportunity of taking a black hole out for a meal at a restaurant. It did not cost very much; the black hole ate light."

He wheezed with laughter. Stalac rumbled and tapped his cilia against the bulkhead with amusement.

*

Sasha moved to the cockpit... to see Giles sitting the pilot's seat, with Astrid leaning in far too closely for Sasha's liking, looking like a cat toying with prey. "You have a problem with the co-pilot's seat, Ensign?"

Astrid straightened up, looking startled. "Lt Hrelle! No, Ma'am, Lt Arrington was just showing me a trick to tighten our subspace field to decrease the risk of detection."

"Oh, really?"

Now Giles turned in his seat, looking concerned and a little annoyed. "Yes, Sash, really." He indicated his station, and the displays illustrating the subspace fields surrounding the Tailless. "What's happening back there?"

"Uh, ignore it. And ignore me." Feeling herself blush, she glanced behind her, seeing Zir and Eydiir standing close, the Orion looking ready to burst with saying something, instead offering a taut, "May we talk privately, Lieutenant?"

Sasha gestured to her cabin. The younger woman entered... closely followed by Eydiir, without asking permission. Sasha led the rear, her cabin now feeling even more claustrophobic than usual. "How may I help you, Ensign?"

Zir stuck out her chin. "Permission to speak freely, Ma'am?"

Sasha paused -- suddenly propelled back years ago, to her own first week at the Academy, when Dad had been missing, presumed dead, and the Starfleet Intelligence offices believed he had been a traitor, and one of them -- Giles' uncle, in fact -- had come to the Academy grounds, called her down in front of her classmates, denounced her and her father and threatened her if she chose to remain... and then, he gave her permission to speak. And she took it -- oh boy, did she take it -- and ran away with it at Warp Nine, making a notorious name for herself at the Academy.

Strange, to find herself on the receiving end now. "Don't call me Ma'am. But... go ahead."

Zir crossed her arms, noting Eydiir's continued, silent presence, but otherwise not letting that impede her from speaking her mind. "I don't appreciate you singling Ensign Emoto out there for a verbal dressing down. Clearly your friends were also to blame: Jonas Ostrow for interfering where he shouldn't have, and Neraxis Ostrow for exacerbating the situation!"

Sasha stared back, seeing so much of herself, defending her own Squad against anyone who might attack them. She almost pointed out the similarities... except that Sasha knew how she'd react if some old pisher made such a statement. "Do you know the nature of his 'interfering'?"

"Yes! He keeps trying to get her to talk over what happened to her with the Cardassians. Why? He's not her supervisor anymore, I've heard he and his wife have been assigned to the Samaritan now! Why should he care about her?"

Sasha's face tightened. "Because he does. Because..." She stopped, looked to Eydiir, who nodded in assent, before continuing. "Because a few years ago, he had faced his own emotional crisis."

"Crisis? What crisis?"

"That's none of your business, Ensign," Eydiir informed her.

The Orion paled, her olive skin lightening slightly as she looked between the other two women, obviously still galvanised with indignation. "But what about his wife? She had no business threatening Tori, or baiting Urad!"

"Sounded to me like she was standing up for her husband... and Mr Kaldron doesn't seem to need much baiting; not a great quality in a Security officer.

And regardless of what Ms Emoto's experienced, if she can't manage that attitude among others, then maybe she needs more help than she's been willing to accept to date." She matched Zir's posture. "All of us in here, and out there, have our wounds, and we know best how we deal with them... or not deal with them.

And more often than not, we don't want to accept help for dealing with them, no matter how necessary, because the healing process can be just as painful as the original hurt." She rubbed her eyes. "But I also know help can't be forced on others. I'll speak with Jonas and Neraxis. Please accept my apologies for any distress caused to your colleague. In fact, also accept them for dragging all of you out here. I could have just come alone, and left you on the Claridon."

That made Zir start. "Begging your pardon, Ma'am, but No, you couldn't have left us behind. Peter's part of Alpha Squad." She paused and clarified, "My Alpha Squad."

Sasha allowed herself a tired smile. "I said stop calling... never mind. I'm gonna catch some shuteye, but in three hours, I'll hold a meeting for all of us, and let you know what I have planned to retrieve Mr Boone's cub, okay?" Sasha offered her hand.