Surefoot 60: Live In Infamy

"Why, that's a lovely thing to say, my dear," Kami said dryly. "Every mother dreams to have a cub that's not unpleasant."

Jnill frowned as Sreen now took hold of one of Jnill's fingers like a rattle. "Age seems to have made you thin-furred, my dear. I mean of course that her lively, bubbly personality will serve her well as she struggles through life."

Kami crossed her arms. "'Struggles'?"

Jnill looked up, her expression patronising. "My dear, I have nothing but the utmost of sympathy for you and your husband... and of course, this poor cub. You'll have to lower your standards about her potential, given her helpless state-"

Then she yelped, as Sreen had taken one of Jnill's fingers and nipped it.

Kami smiled. "Looks like you've been graced to receive the Sreen Hrelle Manifesto."

Jnill drew her finger away and noted the marks from Sreen's pin teeth, eyes narrowing in confusion. "'Manifesto'?"

Kami nodded. "In her current inability to form complex words, she's just told you: 'You can hold me, feed me, burp me, change me, bathe me, entertain me, reassure me, love me, do all those things... but don't you dare pity me'."

Jnill glanced down at Sreen, who shook a stubby furred finger up and confirmed, "Gabba doo!"

The young married couple laughed at the sight. The Matriarch harrumphed, shifting her hold to return Sreen to Kami. "Yes, well, I wouldn't want to seen as edacious with your cub, my dear-"

Ptera stood up, with some effort, waddling towards her. "I'll take her again!"

Mirow bolted upright. "Wait, let me help-"

Ptera hissed at him, making him stop in his tracks, before eagerly accepting the infant, resting her against her extended belly, purring and cooing, Sreen clinging to her, gurgling, "Terra!"

Ptera gasped, looking up at Kami with eyes wide. "Did she really say my name? Are all cubs that clever at that age?"

Kami grinned with pride. "Females more than males." She nodded to Mirow. "That lazy lump didn't speak until he was nearly two, just pointed at what he wanted and grunted." Then she winked at him.

Ptera smiled down at Sreen. "He hasn't changed much, believe me." She leaned in and breathed in Sreen's scent again. "Oh, I do hope ours is even half as lovely as this beauty!"

Jnill drew in closer, as if feeling left out of the proceedings. "Oh, she will be, Daughter. And with the additional comfort of knowing that you've already had the foetus tested, and confirmed that she'll be perfectly healthy, at least."

Kami looked up at her, considered responding in kind... and then resisted the urge. She needed to be better than that, and began leading the others out into the clan's gardens, an intricate arrangement, but rather too planned for Kami's tastes. "So, how is the clan business going with the War?"

The grey-furred female relaxed, more in her element with that topic of conversation. "Rather well, actually, thank you for enquiring; we've secured a lucrative contract with the Anticans to supply them with our Shikaris short-range patrol vessels, and there is similar interest from the Selay and the Ornarans. Many worlds are seeking to upgrade their local defences; it seems there's little confidence among many worlds that Starfleet will protect them from the Dominion."

Kami nodded, having heard similar opinions from ordinary Caitians since her family's return to the Motherworld. "It hasn't been easy; Starfleet has suffered heavy losses in the initial battles. Even as an ambulance ship, the Surefoot has experienced casualties during our last engagement. But I have faith that we'll ultimately prevail."

"As do I, my dear, as do I," Jnill agreed, albeit less empathically. And I expect that given such dangers, you've decided to keep yourself and your cubs safe now with a planetbound assignment?"

Kami blinked; she couldn't deny having thought of it herself immediately afterwards, even as she recognised it was a natural reaction to the traumas they had experienced. "It... has occurred to me. But my husband and I are needed out there; if all of us took planetbound assignments, no one would be keeping back the Dominion."

The other female reached out and idly stroked the wide ivory petals of an orchid as they passed. "But your cubs aren't in Starfleet, my dear. There are many excellent boarding schools and nurseries available here. I can even make a few enquiries on your behalf? It would benefit them greatly to be associated with fellow Caitians, especially our people's finer specimens, rather than the... common folk. Or worse, aliens."

One, two, three, four... "Thank you, but no. Our cubs stay with us, under our influence and our protection, though I've allowed Misha to join the local school to be with other cubs his age while we're here; he's on a field trip today to see the Skycats in Pakui, with his Grandpa Bneea as one of the volunteer chaperones. And you will be pleased to know that Misha has benefitted greatly from interacting with other races." She paused and noted, "I've seen for myself how such interaction can prevent people from becoming bigoted and parochial."

Jnill's expression tightened, though her mask of cordiality remained fixed. "Well then, my dear, I can only express my admiration to you and your husband, for putting your duty over the safety of your family." She slipped an arm around Kami's. "Shall we return inside for tea and cake? Too much midday sun is insalubrious for the cubs... and I wouldn't want you to develop any more grey fur from overexposure."

Kami smiled back, controlling her emotions. "Yes, let's go inside... but I'll forgo any more tea and cake; Starfleet has certain weight restrictions." She guided Jnill back towards the mansion. "I envy your freedom to just... let yourself go, my dear. As you've obviously done in the last couple of years."

*

Six hundred kilometres north-east of Mrestir Province, in the planetary capital First City, a young communications specialist for Network 23 was running a final security check on an incoming data transmission packet from the outer colonies, before authorising their forwarding to their intended destinations on Cait. There had been some background anomalies, but the initial security protocols had been passed, and he was late for a lunch date with a rather enticing-smelling new Payroll Specialist.

He sent the transmissions on their merry way, never having detected the hidden virus codes in them, codes designed by a spy organisation he will never have heard of, on the command of people he will nevr have heard of.

Codes now seeking out and infecting public, private and military channels...

*

Aerodrome, Pakui Desert Province:

The crowd of hundreds in the bleachers looked up and gasped almost as one, as the four winged vessels swooped around each other, each one producing a different colour of smoke trail in huge rings, rings that the others would then fly through, in practiced, perfect harmony, the engines of the machines growling in the cloudless blue sky.

On one of the upper benches, clad in a blue and white uniform along with the forty others in his class, Misha Hrelle rose to his feet, peering up through his magnifiers at the action. "Grandpa! Do you see the shuttles?"

At the end of the group with the teachers and other volunteers, Bneea Shall drank from his water bottle and licked his muzzle, as he looked up as well, feeling as amazed as his grandcub at the sight. "Not shuttles, Misha! Aerofighters! Piloted by some of the best aeronauts our people have ever known! Now sit down!"

Sitting beside him, his husband Mi'Tree stopped checking his minicom for an update on his popularity ratings on the Cynet, to peer up over his shaded spectacles at the aircraft. "Hmph. I did better in Skycats Ho!"

"You did nothing! That vivid was all sets and special effects! I spent more time in a real aerofighter for the stuntwork!"

Mi'Tree dropped his gaze again, his interest remaining fixed on himself. "And yet who received the S'Ralcha Award nomination the next year for Best Actor for that role?"

Bneea shook his head... then looked up again as one jet-black aerofighter suddenly swooped straight up, its engine roaring now with the effort, and pirouetting as its ascended, releasing multiple coloured trails that spread out in a widening spiral that prompted the audience to rise and applaud thunderously. Bneea glanced down at Mi'Tree, who remained sitting. "Will you put that thing away and remember why we're here?"

Mi'Tree sighed and slipped his minicom back into his jacket, before joining the rest of them in a show of appreciation. Bneea grunted to himself, thinking the ban on schoolcubs having their minicoms with them during school hours should have been extended to certain old cats.

Then his focus moved to the task at paw, as the aerofighters landed and returned to the huge surrounding hangars, and the class was led by the teachers and chaperones to the toilets and concessions, Bneea staying alert and conscious of not letting any of the little tail chasers wander off... especially his own grandcub.

He was happy to have volunteered for this (and volunteered Mi'Tree as well on his day off from broadcasting the Taleteller show), not just out of a sense of community duty, but to get a sense of how their grandcub was coping since all that terrible business fighting the Dominion. He would never criticise Kami or Esek for choosing to take their cubs with them into potential danger in space -- both of them were more than qualified to face what was out there -- but still, Bneea couldn't help but worry about the effects on the likes of Misha. And with his little alien friend Naida having just gone off-world to return to her father in Starfleet, he might have felt isolated.

The cub, however, seemed to fit in with other cubs beautifully, laughing and chatting happily... unlike Mi'Tree, who had returned to his minicom. "Will you put that thing away-" Then he stopped and regarded his husband. "You're jealous!"

Mi'Tree glanced up. "What?"

"You're jealous of our grandcub! Every time I brought you along on these school trips, the cubs would always gather around you as the Taleteller, wanting your autograph, stories, hugs-"

"Nonsense!"

"But now they're used to you, and Misha is getting all the attention, with his father a decorated Starfleet captain, his sister a human and a Kaetini warrior-"

"The sun has driven you senile!" He put away his minicom again, his muzzle creasing in annoyance as he crossed his arms and regarded their grandcub, who was regaling his new friends with a story about a space battle he allegedly took part in, using his paws as prop starships. "He has no storytelling skills. I'll go help him-"

Bneea grabbed him by the crook of the arm before Mi'Tree could interrupt. "If you try stealing our grandcub's thunder, I'll shove that minicom of yours straight up your-"

"Gentlemen," someone interrupted behind them.

They turned to see the approach of one of the class teachers, a shorter, younger female with shimmering stone-coloured fur and a bushy tail. She looked more amused as she noted, "I hope I'm pre-empting the sort of language we would scold cubs for using?"

The two males blanched, Bneea swallowing, "My apologies, Ms Praow."

Mi'Tree nodded, indicating Bneea. "The sun has driven him senile."

The teacher smirked, looking more amused than annoyed, before moving up to them, but looking over at Misha. "When he joined the class, his mother asked me to evaluate him with regards to his interactions with other Caitian cubs."

"Really?" Bneea asked -- but then checked himself; of course his daughter would be astute enough to ask professionals for a separate, objective assessment.

She continued to regard the class. "And I'm happy to say she has nothing to worry about. I have never met such an outgoing, self-assured cub his age, not just with other cubs, but with adults. He's not only willing to try new things, he encourages the shyer cubs to do so... and won't tolerate anyone being teased." She chuckled. "And he has such a vivid imagination, too! I heard him tell the others a story about his fighting a group of dragons to save his mother!"

Bneea felt his skin flush under his fur. "That's, ah, actually a true story."

Praow blinked. "What?"

The grandfather nodded absently, looking back. "I believe they're called Jem'Hadar, the soldiers of the Dominion. Last month the Surefoot was caught up in a battle. They invaded, attacked his mother. He stood up to them. Four armed soldiers, and he stood up them. Fearlessly." He suppressed a shudder at the memory of Kami informing him and her other father Mi'Tree about it. At the time, he had fought with himself to keep from trying to tell his daughter how to raise her cubs; that feeling returned in full force with his retelling the account.

Praow blinked again, looking back at Misha again. "And the story he told about being in a battle with a band of marauding giant snakes?"

"Ooh, yes, that happened!" Mi'Tree confirmed happily, nodding. "Though Misha was a mere cub at the time. They were marauding Vlathi assassins, sent by a wicked emperor to kill us all! Fortunately I was there, and fought at least eight of them singlepawedly! I was particularly valiant on that day, I must say."

"No," Bneea responded, rolling his eyes. "You mustn't."

The teacher's eyes widened. "If you're gonna tell me it's also true that Misha once took command of the ship and saved everyone from a swarm of Space Farts..."

Despite himself, Bneea chuckled. "I think we can safely confirm that that's made up." Then he shrugged. "Maybe."

After the bathroom and concession breaks, the class moved to the hangars to see the aerofighters... and to fulfil a long-buried desire on Bneea's part to see these fine aircraft, still in action, and by their original pilots too! He helped herd the class to one parked craft, resting on retractable inflated tyres: onyx-black in colour with blood-red stripes, with swept-back wings and tail fins, twin turbofan impeller units mounted on either side of the armoured fuselage, and a sliding single-occupancy cockpit canopy on top.

Bneea ate it all up, allowing the Fancub in him to emerge, away from any teasing from his husband or other contemporaries, as he pointed out various parts of the aircraft to the cubs. "Look! This is an A-90 Ebonwing! A design unchanged from the Civil Wars of over 500 years ago! No warp drive or fusion engines! No antigravity generators, no transtators or duotronic components! They communicated over aetherwave frequencies and navigated with radiolocation!"

Bneea drew closer to the impellers, still feeling the residual heat from their earlier use. "Those blades spin within the cylinders, drawing huge amounts of air in at the front and pushing it out the back, making it fly! It's amazing in its simplicity! And the men and women who serve today, keeping the aerofighter designs flying and performing these stunt shows, are still keeping the legend of the Skycats alive!"

"You should be one of our tour guides," said a voice from behind.

Bneea and others turned to see a tall figure in a tan leather longcoat, gloves, cap, white scarf and goggles draw up. He was an older Caitian male with blonde and ginger fur on his squat face, and the group parted as he approached Bneea, smiling. "You must be a former member of one of our Squadrons."

Bneea felt himself flush. "Ahh, no, but I grew up with the stories... and later, when I worked as a stuntman, I had to learn to fly a replica for a vivid about the original Civil War squadrons."

The aeronaut's brow smirked. "Are you referring to Skycats Ho? The one starring Mi'Tree Shall?"

At the sound of his name, Mi'Tree lowered the minicom back in his paw and approached, smiling. "That will be me. Would you like my autograph?"

Bneea smacked him in the stomach. "Rein it in, Husband of Mine! These are real heroes!"

"Oh, I don't know about that," the aeronaut replied humbly. "My squadron and I merely recreate the intrepid feats of our illustrious ancestors. I'm Captain Majes Biggleshen, by the way." He removed his glove and held out a paw. "Friends call me Biggles."

Bneea shook the paw with genuine enthusiasm.

Then Mi'Tree popped in, took a quick image of himself with the aeronaut, and keyed in a command to post it on his social media site... until he frowned. "The network's down! What cheek! How am I supposed to find out how popular I am?"

*

Scarlet Park Restaurant, Shanos Minor, Nashea Province:

Since his arrival on this side of the planet, meeting with his ex-wife and son for the first time in years, Dr Jhess Furore had tried to relax. He knew how Mreia had felt about him, and she had been on edge about his presence with their cub, given her feelings about his service with the Militia during the last War. But on his return, and after repeated calls to her, she finally relented to let him visit, albeit in neutral ground, away from their home.

Mreia hadn't changed much if at all since they had last been together, her onyx-coloured fur reminding him of Lt Shall on the Surefoot, but with a longer tail. All of the change had been reserved for Shau, who had barely reached Jhess' waist when they last met, and now, at age sixteen, was almost as tall as Jhess, and more resembled his father than his mother... except in the hazel-flecked eyes and sharper ear tips.

Their table in the restaurant offered a resplendent view of Shanos Minor, one of the most beautiful coastal cities in Nashea, built up over the last three hundred years in the hills surrounding Shanos Crescent Bay. And its multitudes of glass buildings reflecting the tropical sunlight helped provide the metropolis with the nickname "The Radiance".

Jhess took the opportunity to glance out often as they waited for their drinks and meals. "I forgot about the view from this high up. I used to run up the Thousand Steps every morning to get to the Parapet, and it was worse than any three marathons." He chuckled, looking to Mreia. "Do you remember that time I came back after one run, stripped off and hopped into the shower thinking it was you, but it was your mother?"

Sitting beside Mreia, Shau gasped and set down his glass of water, looking to her. "Mom! He really did that to Grandma?"

Mreia idly played with a breadstick she'd set on her plate, looking grateful to have something to do to pass the time in what was obviously an interminable experience for her. "Yes."

Shau guffawed at that. "I can't wait to ask her about it when she visits next!"

Mreia now met Jhess' gaze... her gaze of disapproval as his mentioning that clear.

Jhess forced down his growing frustration. He recognised that this reunion wouldn't be easy after so long, after so much acrimony between them, and that Mreia was unlikely to have changed her views since then. So he appreciated her concession to today's visit.

He just wished the concession had extended to not making him feel as welcome as a dose of mange in the crotch. "Mreia, are you still working for Mnorant and Naro?"

She looked at him again, as if suspecting he was tricking to trick her somehow, before responding. "Yes. In fact I was made Senior Partner last season, in charge of Civil Rights cases."

Jhess smiled. "That's marvellous! And long overdue! They should have made you a Senior Partner long ago!" He focused on Shau once more. "From the first day I met your mother, I knew she had the Gift of the Gab! She could talk the stripes off a sleekfish! No one's immune from her persuasion!"

She reached for her wine. "I wouldn't say that. Some remain immune, no matter how much hurt their mistakes cost."

Jhess winced, struggled to keep himself from letting himself be triggered by her barb, obviously aimed at him, for his decision to join the Militia at the start of the last Ferasan War, when Shau had been an infant. Mreia had come from a clan of pacifists, never saw the moral imperative of choosing to fight to defend the Motherworld and the colonies. And after he had returned, and stories about some of the horrors of the War reached the public, and Jhess himself had traumas to overcome, their strained relationship exacerbated into separation, and then ultimately divorce.