Surefoot 60: Live In Infamy

Estimated casualties-" He breathed in, his entire being tightening like a wire. "Estimated casualties exceed 400,000. We've lost 90% of our armed forces."

"Mother's Cubs..." Dsune stared at him, her stomach twisting into knots she thought would never untangle again. Four hundred thousand lives lost... "What about Fleet Captain Shall and our Navy forces out at the edge?"

"There's been nothing official as yet," he responded. "But I can't imagine Ma'Sala would have just rolled over and shown them her belly."

No. She'd known Ma'Sala Shall for years, had worked well with her. She'd been confident that the female could have faced up to any threat to the Motherworld, and defeated them. She turned to her right, having smelled the human in the room before seeing him, baring her teeth. "And Starfleet? Where in the Seven Hells are they, Commander?"

Commander Fletcher Phelps, Starfleet's Liaison on Cait, was a reed-thin, pink-fleshed male in his twenties, with bushy brown hair and a matching moustache and beard that helped reduce both his youthful nature and that creepy skinned look that humans always generated in Dsune. He had been a more frequent participant in government briefings since the start of the War, and always projected an air of confidence in the overall situation despite his age.

Not now, though. "My office has lost off-world contact as well, Ma'am. There was nothing in any of our reports that would have even hinted at this offensive. There were Starfleet Intelligence reports several months ago of the Ferasans attempting to form an alliance with the Dominion, but nothing seemed to have come of it." He flushed a deep scarlet, glancing up at the holograms. "I can't imagine how they managed to be as successful as they've been, Ma'am."

"I'm sure you can't." Dsune grunted -- thanks, Cub, you're about as useful as a toothless fur comb -- signalling P'Sat to join Huyutr and herself, dropping her voice to a whisper, praying for some good news. Somewhere. Anywhere. "How secure are we here?"

The Field Marshall's muzzle jutted out. "We raised shields around the building as soon as you arrived, we have armed guards on all levels, we have independent power, supplies, and we're working on bypassing the interference they're generating..." Then he looked at her. "But you and the other civilian staff might be better leaving now in the subshuttle for the dock, to join the Matriarch's Council at Deep Keep. My people will keep them busy, and then detonate and collapse the tunnels."

Dsune bristled. More than a thousand years, their people had lived on this world, successfully defending themselves from any and all invaders. And now that was about to end, today, on her watch... "No. I have to stay."

P'Sat pushed her spectacles up her short muzzle, swallowing, her emerald eyes wide with fear... but also resolve. "Stilts... First Minister... there's nothing further for you to do here. Our people will need you in the days and weeks to come. I'll arrange for your family to join you at Deep Keep-"

Alarms sounded, as the lights flickered and died around them. People froze, but Huyutr reached for the plasma pistol in his hip holster, glancing around. "Guards! Take positions! P'Sat! Get her and yourself down to the subshuttle station! NOW!"

Suddenly, multiple purple-red glows of transporter beams at strategic points throughout the Ops Centre filled in the darkness, beams quickly replaced by armed figures: Jem'Hadar and Ferasans, firing away.

Chaos erupted, people screaming and dropping to the floor. P'Sat tackled her friend and employer, covering Dsune's head as disruptor bolts soared and seared above them, striking walls, floors, stations... people... the smoke- the smell-

The silence.

The terrible silence.

Then a deep, booming, triumphant voice asked, "Who's in charge here?"

Dsune pushed P'Sat's arms off her -- gasping at the sight of Field Marshall Huyutr lying there, dead, a disruptor burn smouldering on his chest -- and she looked up.

There were her staff members, those still alive, forced down to their knees around the Ops Centre. And there was the Jem'Hadar: tall, armoured, reptilian, with olive-skinned, studded faces like the hides of desert hornback lizards, and wielding short, stubby black weapons, along with a single, soft-looking humanoid standing in the background, dressed in a beige that seemed to match his demeanour, silent and observant.

But her attention focused on what were obviously the Ferasans, creatures she had only ever seen in documentaries: like Caitians, but taller, more muscular-looking, this muscularity enhanced with Klingon-like armoured uniforms, and with short, thin, rat-like tails, and prominent sabre teeth sticking out of their flat muzzles. They were all dark-furred, with none of the variety among Caitians... and none of the pleasing scents that Caitians exhibited.

"Familiar, but different enough to give you nightmares" That's what Fleet Captain Shall, the only Caitian Dsune knew who had met one in the flesh, had once described them, and Dsune could understand that now. There was enough commonality to see that Caitians and Ferasans had once been the same race, like Vulcans and Romulans.

But whereas the more aggressive Romulans left their homeworld and the more peaceful Vulcans, the more peaceful Caitians had left their homeworld to escape the more aggressive Ferasans, who had genetically augmented themselves, and were determined to enslave or exterminate what they now saw as their inferior cousins.

They were said to be arrogant, proud, superior in attitude. She saw that, too, scented it now.

And she noticed who was the leader: tall, even by Ferasan standards, with wicked scars on his muzzle, the scars highlighted with broad red war stripes, and colourful insignia on his uniform with a cape that fluttered as he walked around, gloved paws held out, snarling once more. "I asked who was in charge here? Be warned: I don't like asking questions twice. A third time, and I promise you, heads will roll."

Dsune started to rise -- until P'Sat rose first, pushing the First Minister down as she announced, "I am."

The Lead Ferasan looked at the short administrator. "You are First Minister Shellis Dsune?"

P'Sat stepped forward, straightening up, trembling . "I am. I ask you not to hurt anyone else-"

The Ferasan drew up to her quickly, grabbed either side of her head, and twisted, breaking her neck quickly and cleanly.

Dsune and other Caitians cried out, Dsune's eyes widening in horror as she watched the Ferasan hold up the body of her associate, her friend of many years, by her head, before finally releasing it, letting the body fall to the floor with a sickening thud.

The Lead Ferasan held out his arms. "I don't like asking questions twice. I like deception even less. Now I'll start punishing more people until your cowardly leader finally makes himself known-"

Dsune shot up to her feet. "STOP!"

The Lead Ferasan regarded her. "A woman. Of course. Should subsequent generations ever ask how your planet fell in one day, they merely have to see it was because a woman was in charge." He stepped on P'Sat's body as he walked over her to approach Dsune. "I am Pridemaster Melem-Adu, of the Black Pelt Pride. I am the new Master Governor of Cait during this transitional period into its place as part of the Ferasan Patriarchy. You may kneel and offer deference due to me."

Dsune forced herself not to instinctively back away from him, forced herself not to tremble or think about her family or her planet or the next five minutes. She had to be the leader, she had to maintain some control. "You- You have no right to-"

His paw, long and thin, sheathed in a studded fingerless glove, swung out with uncanny speed, smacking her across the muzzle and sending her sprawling to the floor.

"Repeating myself, attempts at deception... and disobedience. You're learning more of what I dislike than what I like; that approach won't leave you breathing for much longer, I promise." He looked around him. "Beam down our technicians, take over these stations. We need to restore order as quickly as possible."

As she heard the sound of more transporter beams bringing down more Ferasans, Dsune reached up to her muzzle, winced at her own touch, tasted blood. No one had ever struck her, not even her parents when she was said to be the naughtiest cub in her clan. Cold, atavistic fear gripped her like the floor... but she couldn't just lie there-

"Pridemaster Melem-Adu!"

Dsune, Melem-Adu and others, turned to see the Starfleet Captain Phelps, disarmed and sporting bleeding claw marks across the right side of his face, approach slowly, stopping when Ferasans and Jem'Hadar aimed their weapons in his direction, and he glanced in Dsune's direction.

But, to his credit, he mustered his courage as he continued. "I am the representative of Starfleet, and de facto representative of the United Federation of Planets, on Cait. This is a member world of the Federation, within our territory, and you have committed an illegal act of aggression. You and your forces are hereby ordered to leave with immediate effect."

Melem-Adu stared at him, appearing expectant, almost confused.

Dsune understood that feeling. What did the human think he was doing?

Then the Ferasan made a sound as he continued to stare at Phelps. "Oh. You're being serious. I was waiting for a punchline." Then he looked towards the nearest group of Jem'Hadar, where Dsune saw the unidentified humanoid. "Welos! What is our ally's policy regarding the disposition of Starfleet personnel in this instance?"

The humanoid, an effete male-seeming figure with alabaster skin and violet eyes, drew forward, his mannerisms making Dsune think of someone born to kiss the tails of others. He smiled broadly. "The Dominion and the Ferasan Patriarchy are not yet formal allies, Master Governor; we are only offering a minimal amount of initial support at this time, to observe how you operate under these conditions." He held out a hand towards Melem-Adu. "What is your policy regarding the disposition of Starfleet personnel in this instance? You command this world now, after all."

The Pridemaster grunted in satisfaction. "Yes. I am." He snapped his fingers, and a shorter, younger-looking Ferasan male approached. "Dakea-Mad... find the kitchens in this place." He indicated Phelps. "And take our esteemed representative of Starfleet, and de facto representative of the United Federation of Planets, with you. We'll have a Victory Feast tonight, and he can play an importnat part in it."

The younger Ferasan grunted and drew up to the human, who looked confused by the orders, glancing at Melem-Adu. "You don't seem to understand the gravity of this situation, Pridemaster-" Then he struggled, as the Ferasan grabbed him and dragged him away, helped with other Ferasans. "Stop this! I'm not going to help you cook some damned meal for all of you! Stop this at once-"

He continued protesting even after the door slid closed on his departure.

Melem-Adu looked down at Dsune, chuckling. "He really doesn't understand what's going to happen to him, does he?"

Neither did she... until she did.

And her heart leapt into her mouth. "Y-You... You can't... eat sentient beings! You can't!"

He smiled down at her. "Oh, don't mewl about the furless monkey, Caitian; you have other things to worry about. Get up."

Dsune hesitated... but then complied when he reacted to her hesitation, caught in his gaze as he summoned another Ferasan to approach, nodding to the Caitian. "Escort the former First Minister to our Command ship. Mahar-Gad and his Pride performed well in destroying the Mother's Fury, and they deserve a treat."

Before Dsune could respond, the other Ferasan clasped his paw on her shoulder, and both of them were swallowed up in the quantum stream of a transporter beam- No NO NO-

*

The Global Communications Silence had continued when the Tailless had landed unannounced on the Clanlands of the Mroara-Lnee. The Matriarch Jnill was indignant at the arrival, striding up as the side door opened and Hrelle rushed out. "We are not a spaceport, Captain! These grounds are among the finest-"

"Excuse me, Jnill," Kami interrupted, seeing and scenting the anxiety in her husband. "What's going on, Esek? There are no calls, no transmissions, nothing."

He stopped, seeing Mirow and Ptera catch up, the latter pregnant and cradling Sreen. "There's a fleet of Ferasan and Jem'Hadar ships in orbit. They're behind the communications blackout."

"Seven Hells..." Kami gasped.

Mirow held onto Ptera. "It can't be-"

"Impossible!" Jnill declared defiantly. "The Navy, the Militia, wouldn't allow them to get even close to us!"

Hrelle looked to her. "Sasha and I directly witnessed the destruction of at least two of our planetbound Militia bases, and our accessing of satellites confirmed the same has happened with dozens of other bases throughout Cait. Tens of thousands have died today."

Sreen began crying, sensing the change in mood, and Kami went for her. "We have to get in touch with Mama, Esek! She'll need our help!"

He nodded, but clarified, "We might be able to sneak past the enemy ships with the Prowl unit on the Tailless... assuming they haven't broken our cloaking frequencies. But we'll also need to get in touch with the Starfleet and Federation offices in First City-"

"Dad!"

They turned as Sasha emerged from her ship. "The communication blocks have dropped! They've announced a Global Broadcast imminent, everyone's been urged to watch and listen!"

He looked back at the others. "Come on."

The group moved as one onboard the ship, crowding together in the roomier aft section, dominated in one corner by a holographic transmission advising to PLEASE STAND BY, Hrelle asking, "Was there any explanation, any detail-"

Sasha shook her head, indicating the image before them. "Nothing, but this is being broadcast on all channels, all frequencies. They even set off the Public Disaster Alarms on the nightside of the planet, to wake everyone there up."

"Mom..." Mirow breathed, sounding less an adult now. Kami reached out with her free paw and patted him on the shoulder.

Then PLEASE STAND BY vanished, replaced by the image of a tall, highly-decorated Ferasan male, who looked left to right, as if able to see the hundreds of millions now watching and listening to him. "To the people of Cait... to my cousins... I greet you. I am Pridemaster Melem-Adu, of the Ferasan Patriarchy.

I am your humble servant.

And I am honoured to finally be allowed to walk upon your world, to breathe your air and drink in your scents and hear your voices.

And more: to free you from the terrible, secret oppression you have lived under for far too long. An oppression of lies and fear."

*

In homes and offices, in schools and hospitals and recreation halls and shopping centres, and on exterior screens in all public areas throughout Cait, the broadcast continued.

"Long ago, your ancestors were deceived into leaving your world -- our world -- by their leaders, a cabal of power-hungry collaborators, intent on cleaving you from your birthright, your heritage, in order to establish their own little matriarchal dictatorship out here.

And in the centuries since then, truths had been hidden from you, hidden and twisted and corrupted, by the descendents of those collaborators. By those in your Matriarchy Council, by their enforcers in the Militia and the Planetary Navy, and by their spymasters in the Mother's Claws. They are the ones who have woven lies about us, about our intent, and they have been aided and abetted by the corrupt, self-serving United Federation of Planets and their Starfleet lackeys."

*

In Shanos Minor, Jhess stood beside Mreia, Shau and the rest of the restaurant patrons, staring at the public screen outside, or at their minicoms or PADDs. Shau looked to his father. "Dad? What's he talking about? It's not true, is it?"

Jhess stared up in disbelief. "No, son, of course not!"

He reached out to grasp his paw.

But his mother had pulled him away from his father.

*

The Ferasan Pridemaster held out his arms, as if to embrace the world. "We are family. We have missed you: our brothers and sisters, our fathers and mothers, our sons and daughters. We have so much to offer each other. But all our attempts to approach you peacefully were met with violent resistance."

"Bullshit," Sasha muttered.

Hrelle agreed, and felt the same from Kami... but he noted the confusion from the likes of Mirow and Ptera... and the stronger measure of doubt from Jnill.

*

"This culminated in a terrible plan to commit genocide upon the civilian population of Ferasa Prime, with horrifying weapons of mass destruction, weapons that were to be launched from Militia Bases throughout Cait, and from the ships of the Planetary Navy standing guard at the edge of the system."

Melem-Adu looked sorrowful now. "But they underestimated the power of their own weapons, and tragically, they detonated before they could be used, at the cost of thousands of lives, on Cait and in space... including the war criminal, Fleet Captain Ma'Sala Shall."

The group in the Tailless gasped. Kami's jaw dropped, and her golden eyes widened. "Mama?"

Hrelle reached out and took her paw in his. Ma'Sala Shall, dead? Kami's mother, their Matriarch, the female who had adopted him as her own? It couldn't be...

*

In the main house of the Shall Clanlands, Bneea and Mi'Tree sat alone, having put Misha to bed before the transmission, hearing the news.

"No," Mi'Tree murmured, tears welling up. "This isn't happening. Please... please, Bneea, tell me this isn't happening..."

Bneea leaned in, an arm around his husband, unable to take his eyes from the nightmare unfolding before him, wishing desperately to offer assurances that none of this was real, that their partner of so many years, the force of nature who seemed so invincible to him, was dead.

And the Enemy was on their world.

*

"I offer all of you my deepest and most sincere condolences," Melem-Adu continued. "Not just at the loss of so many lives, but at the sheer needlessness of it all.

We are not your enemy. We never have been.

We are family.

Upon detection of the detonations, we arrived to render aid. Your First Minister, Shellis Dsune, who masterminded this attempt at genocide, confessed before committing suicide, rather than face a war crimes trial. Her accomplices in the Matriarch's Tribunal remain fugitives at large.

A Provisional Government is being put in place even as I speak, and our Peacekeeping Forces will remain in orbit and in the major metropolitan areas, providing security and stability. And I will remain here, acting in a custodial capacity as Governor.

He raised a paw to his unseen audience, open and inviting. "There has been too much violence. Too much blood. Too much pain. And we have been separated for far too long.

But the healing begins today.

Our future is together. Let us lead you there."

*

"The transmission has ended, Master Governor," the Ferasan technician informed him.

Melem-Adu lowered his paw, pleased with the new title, pleased with the transmission, pleased with the unbelievable good fortune, for him and for his Pride. He had used the alien data transmissions they had received about the Caitians to force the Highest Patriarch to grant him governership, and to unite the major Prides of the Ferasans together, for this, their biggest operation. And he would take full advantage of this opportunity. Yes, Highest, you'd best watch yourself... "How many watched and listened?"