Surefoot 64: Thousand Scars

S'Rrel Steppes, Ravath Province, Planet Cait:

A cold, bitter wind swept over the rolling grasslands, unable to extinguish the sporadic flames ignited by the disruptor and plasma fire of moments ago. The weapons fire still continued, further out towards the line of sablewood trees in the distance, but less now than before. The battle had been won.

The Caitians who weren't dead had been herded together in a clearing near the Ferasan assault ship, its searchbeams illuminating the clearing with blinding beams that made the Caitians avert their eyes and potentially attempt further resistance, or escape. They stayed silent, defeated now.

An outcome that left a sour taste in the mouth of the Pridemaster of these particular Ferasans who had defeated them. He had perused the pile of bodies stacked at the edge of the clearing: males, females, cubs. Civilians, who had received the orders to come to the local Treatment Camps, but had disobeyed, and attempted to seek refuge out here, in the vast expanse of this wretched Northern Province. Such a waste.

He turned back to face the prisoners. He was an older male, though life had added much more age to him, with bone-grey fur broken with bare scraps where old scars displayed, a patch covered the place where his left eye used to it, and his left sabretooth was broken in half, though its new edge remained sharp as a blade. He enjoyed the reactions of others when they saw him. Few had the courage to ask him why he never bothered to get himself fixed.

But those who did would then be regaled with his tale of how he ended up looking this way: taking on six Kzinti warriors, who had taken umbrage that his Pride's name was one identical to an apparently-renowned Kzinti Pride. He had eventually won that rather... visceral onomastic debate, and these were his medals. Why would he want to remove them, just to assuage the aesthetic sensibilities of others?

He sighed, before calling out, "Pa-Sankh, recall your cousins from the outer perimeter."

His son approached from the shadows beyond the clearing. "Father, there are still a few uncaptured Militia scum out there!"

The Pridemaster shrugged. "If they have survived to this point, they deserve to freeze to death in the forests. Recall them; we're about to eat."

Pa-Sankh nodded and returned to the shadows, as his father turned to face the clearing, and the prisoners gathered together. He began approaching them, his gravelly voice calling out over the distant sounds of the fires, as he spread out his arms, as if to embrace them. "I am Pridemaster Udul-Lit, and you have the honour of being vanquished by the Thousand Scars Pride.

You will not have heard of us. We are not the biggest Pride in the Patriarchy, nor the wealthiest, nor the best-connected. Indeed, we are looked upon as the dregs of the Patriarchy, fit only for the most base of tasks. But that will change, and very soon."

He paused as he heard and scented the rest of the Pride gather. "Because this is a time of opportunity for those hungry enough to grasp it."

He picked out one of the surviving Caitians, a plump, terrified-looking female.

"And we are the Hungriest. As you shall now see."

And then he launched himself at them, the others joining in.

It was time to Feast.

* * * * *

Kaijushima Island, Sea of Derena:

On the other side of Cait, another transport ship ferrying Caitian males, females and cubs landed on a small pad surrounded by thick, vibrant jungle foliage. In contrast to the desert air of Pakui, there was a swaddling moistness here, felt by the passengers as the gull-wing doors rose up and they emerged and looked around curiously.

Their pilot stepped out from behind, walking around to the front. He was an older male with tabby fur and a stubby tail compared with most, and a protruding belly. He was clad in a baggy tropical shirt and shorts, with a set of shaded spectacles resting on his muzzle as he regarded his charges. "I see you've all made it safely! Not that there was any doubt about that, but- oh, ah, hope nobody was too upset about that little drop in altitude over the Strait of Greve-"

"Jinjer."

The male turned at the approach of another male, straightening to attention. "Sir!"

Captain Majes Biggleshen drew up, eyeing his casual gear with some wry disdain. "A 'little drop in altitude'? Care to explain?"

JInjer's tail twitched a little. "The, ah, transport ship takes some getting used to, Biggles. Very modern. Too many safety features."

"Yes, well, with your dubious skills, I'd daresay there can never be enough of those." But then he smiled and patted his old friend on the shoulder, before turning and addressing the new arrivals. "Welcome to the Kaijushima Island Animal Reserve, my friends. The facilities are underground, shielded from outside sensors, so we'll be safe here."

One gray-furred knee-high female cub strode up to him boldly, pointed a finger at him and demanded, "Where's my Dad? You take me to him, or else!"

A female who was obviously the cub's mother swiftly followed, grasping the cub and offering, "I'm sorry, Sir! We've all- We've-"

Biggles smiled warmly. "Nothing to apologise for, Madame." He dropped to one knee before the cub and spoke without being patronising. "Your Dad is downstairs with the other soldiers in our Hospital, getting fixed up. I'm glad that you and your mother have arrived to help him feel better." He winked at her and rose again, addressing the rest. "All of the Militia personnel Captain Hrelle rescued from Agana Mount are in the medical facilities below. Some... might not be ready for visitors just now. But all of this will be explained by Mr Shall in the Reception Area below. Please, follow me."

Ginjir held out an open paw. "And don't forget to tip your driver."

Biggles smacked his paw away. "Get moving, there's a family of Starfleet officers and their families in Highsun waiting to get picked up... and Alji is waiting to land her transport."

* * * * *

Several floors below, Captain Esek Hrelle stood before a viewscreen in the facility's Ops Centre, looking up at a young, cider-furred Caitian male with unusually-long pointed ears and amber eyes. "We've stabilised most of the Militia prisoners, but the Ferasans did a number on a couple of them. We've stabilised them, but we need a surgeon here."

M'Turis, his liaison with the Kaetini Order, frowned. "There's no one among the Militia families who might be able to take on that role?"

"They're still coming in, we haven't had a chance to vet any of them yet. But I'd sooner have some qualified people here serving full time. Can the Kaetini help?"

The other male nodded. "We'll check our own networks for willing allies; even on a planet as tiny as ours, there must be a few doctors who might fancy a stay on a tropical island full of dinosaurs." He paused, and then asked, "How's Sasha doing?"

Hrelle paused, gauging the other male's intent -- not as easy a thing to do when his scent wasn't in the air, but then Hrelle was accustomed to that after decades of conversations over light years while in Starfleet. Sasha and he had met M'Turis during their last trip to the Kaetini Temple in the jungles of Mrell Province, and he seemed most supportive of the inclusion of Sasha, a Human, in the Caitian Order.

But that was before her very public appearance in Shanos Minor the other day, confronting -- and then killing and wounding -- several Ferasans who threatened a student demonstration. "She's managing, as best as one can under the circumstances." He crossed his arms. "I don't suppose you've found any surviving contacts in the Caitian government... or the Secret Services?"

At the mention of the latter group, more colloquially known as the Mother's Claws, Hrelle heard a sound from nearby, and glanced from the corner of his eye to see Nenjo, the jet-furred female who may have been the last remaining agent, sitting out of camera view, with a face like a smacked arse. He ignored her.

"None," M'Turis reported. "We have reason to believe the Matriarch's Council escaped off-world the night of the invasion. There are volunteers willing to infiltrate the Capitol's Occupational infrastructure. The Ferasans... like female companionship. As always, we'll keep you updated."

Hrelle bristled at the thought of it, but nodded back. "Better end the transmission now. Give my respects to Mistress Nvell." He looked to Lt Mori, sitting nearby; the junior officer ended the communication.

Now Nenjo growled. "How paternal of you, Captain."

He faced her fully this time. "Excuse me?"

She fixed dark eyes back on him. "I saw the dismay on your face when M'Turis mentioned the females who would be willingly rutting with the Ferasans to gain valuable intelligence. Is that too much for you? Will they be soiled in your eyes?"

He bristled. "You're much more agreeable when you're not being a smartass. We're all going to be soiled, in so many ways, before this War is over; I'd have thought you'd worked that out already, Agent Nenjo." He stepped closer. "But why don't you finally express what's really put fleas in your crotch? You still disagree with Sasha's actions in Shanos Minor."

She rose to her feet. "By making such a public appearance, she's confirmed her presence on Cait. Hers, yours and your family's. It was reckless and foolish."

"But she had to!" Lt Mori spoke up now, sounding indignant. "The Ferasans were threatening those students! She was amazing!"

The agent smirked. "Clearly you're on her side. Or at least, parts of you."

"The news of her intervention has spread across the Cynet," Hrelle added, recapturing control of the conversation... while also acknowledging the young male's obvious interest in Sasha. "Rallying others across the Motherworld, shaking people from their trust in the Enemy. Now there's growing numbers of demonstrations in Shanos Minor, and elsewhere. And I'll also remind you that we were there, too, liberating 24 Militia soldiers from Agana Mount at the same time, so I think they'll be aware of our presence by now. What about the so-called Deep Keep? What more can you tell us about it?"

Nenjo stared back at him for a moment, before moving to a station near Mori and summoning up maps of Cait on the overhead screens. "The idea of a secret military base set up by either the Militia or the Mother's Claws has been mooted for years among the Intelligence community, but if it exists, its location is above my security level and direct experience. I've been running financial and resource audits -- you can't build something that big without leaving a trail -- and I have a potential location."

On one section of a map, a red circle appeared on the top of the Southern Polar region, nestled in a bay-like area several thousand kilometres south by southwest of their present location. "Satellite images currently show nothing there but snow, ice and flocks of crested jeboas. But there is secondary and tertiary evidence of naval vessels and mobile construction platforms congregating in the immediate area for a period between 15 and 20 years ago."

"There's nothing on the ice shelf," Mori noted, looking at the satellite images.

"Look at the images of our island, and you won't pick up our own facility," Hrelle reminded him, turning to Nenjo. "I want Sasha to fly you down there for a reconnoitre."

The agent continued to stare up at the images, as if she could intimidate the truth from them. "I'll take her flyer down there myself. She doesn't have to come along."

"Yes she does... because it's her flyer, and you need backup. And because I say so." He looked back at Mori. "Call up the data Agent Naras acquired of the Ferasan camp in Navath."

The mention of her late brother's name made Nenjo tense, but Hrelle couldn't help that, as he studied the schematics, requisitions, orders... wait...

"They're prison camps," Nenjo decided. "They're taking innocents hostage, to guarantee our good behaviour."

"That doesn't make sense," Mori argued. "Look at all the medical equipment! I know the Metremia Threat's a false flag, but if it was just meant to be a place of confinement-"

"It's not," Hrelle declared flatly. He felt the eyes on him as he continued. "It's a mass fertility clinic."

Nenjo drew closer to him. "Excuse my impertinence, Captain, but you're no medical expert-"

He pointed up at one of the equipment lists, his stomach twisting inside him. "I recognise some of that from my previous marriage, to a human, Sasha's mother, when we were trying for a cub of our own. That equipment is designed to manipulate genetic coding sequences in sex cells to minimise rejection in cross-race conception, as well as make adjustments in the uterus to accommodate an implanted fertilised egg."

That stunned the other two Caitians, until Mori asked, "W-Why- they're- they're basically us, aren't they? I mean, genetically, they are, aren't they?"

"On some level, perhaps, before our ancestors left Ferasa Prime and came here. But their genetic Augmentation might have carried them too far away from us... and maybe they've done further manipulation that we're not aware of since the Exodus. Maybe there's even something wrong with them that we're not aware of.

Lieutenant... begin gathering the names of people disappearing, or being taken for 'treatment'. I want a report on the demographics: genders, ages, occupations. As much as you can... and as soon as you can. Agent Nenjo, get ready to fly out, while I brief Sasha."

He growled to himself, a part of him suspecting the reasons behind the Ferasans' actions. He needed his family here, and for a moment considered delaying Nenjo's mission to get Sasha to go back to the Shall Clanlands and collect Kami and the others... but he knew they weren't ready, and with the overall security heightened following the incidents at Shanos Minor and Agana Mount, they had to be more careful than ever.

* * * * *

In another part of the facility, Sasha Hrelle passed the autosuture over the abdomen before her a third time, grimacing. "Will you stop fidgeting already, Spots? It's like you've got worms up your ass."

Lying on his side on the biobed, Jhess Furore shifted once more, reaching behind him to lift his tail up off the side. "On the whole, I'd prefer worms to spending time at Agana Mount." He grunted in discomfort. "I spoke with Mreia and Shau on that communicator you gave them. Thank you. Thank you for helping them... especially Shau. I know what it cost you."

She focused on the readings on the autosuture, ensuring its influence was reaching the internal damage he had received at the paws of the Enemy. "It cost me nothing."

Now he looked up at her. "You had to kill."

She shrugged. "Only Ferasans."

Jhess bristled, shifting to half-sit up now, ignoring his pain. "'Only'? The taking of any life is never easy, Sasha."

She set aside the autosuture and looked up at the panel above the biobed... still not meeting his eyes. "Really? Tell the Ferasans that. They wiped out over half a million Caitians, here and in space, without a second thought. And they're killing more and more of us each day." Now she looked at him, while indicating the other Caitians on other biobeds in the Medical Centre, some of them covered with stasis shells to keep them alive until their critical conditions can be addressed. "Look at what they did to you and your friends!"

Jhess reached out with his paw and took her hand, subtly purring as he did so. "I don't have to look, Sash. I experienced it. And I've fought the Ferasans before...and no doubt will do it again. But we need to keep it all in perspective. We kill because we have to, not because we want to. We don't have to be bloodthirsty about it. Do you understand?"

Sasha stopped moving around and looked blankly at him. "I understand many things, Jhess. I understand that we're on our own out here. I understand that we're outnumbered and outgunned.

And I understand that the only good Ferasan is a dead one.

I also understand that you're trying to get at me through your purrs." She slipped her hand from his grasp. "Nice try. But the only one who could ever do that was Dad, when I was six and I needed him to chase away the nightmares.

Now I'm the one who chases away the nightmares."

* * * * *

Capitol, First City, M'Mirl Province:

The human was female, pale-skinned with a shock of blonde hair on top of a scarred head, and a black-bladed sword in one hand, a sword she used to slice open throats and hack through Ferasan arms, legs and tails, blood spraying around her, mixed with shrieks and cries that drove back the smarter ones to the walls of the main hall in which they stood.

Ferasans climbed onto tables to leap high towards her, only to find themselves sliced open with the tip of her blade, their guts dropping out of them like the contents of a broken sack, while she spun around, alternating slices with stabs now, not giving her prey a chance to anticipate her moves. She even picked up severed limbs and flung them around, or used them as additional weapons.

Three of the Ferasans overturned a table to use as a shield, charging towards her.

She stopped in the centre of the blood-carpeted room, reached into her armoured vest and drew out a large ballistic weapon, one that made a thunderous roar as its explosive, fragmentary bullet turned the table, and the three Ferasans behind it, to splinters-

"Enough."

The recording froze on a moment of visceral chaos. Melem-Adu, Master of the Black Pelt Pride and Master Governor of Cait, glared at the image of the human, recognising her, his furless tail twitching with agitation. "It is the same ape who killed our people at Shanos Minor." He turned and faced the one who had brought him this, as if for confirmation.

Udul-Lit, Master of the Thousand Scars Pride, stood near the spot where Melem-Adu had killed his own son Enam-Bel only yesterday, for the cub's failures in Shanos Minor. The Pridemaster was an ugly Ferasan male a few years older than Melem-Adu, but looked much older, his bone-grey fur missing in places where scars were displayed, his left eye covered in a patch, his left sabretooth broken halfway down the stem, his armour appearing just as battle-worn, and sporting a bandolier with various small bladed throwing weapons. His voice was rough, raspy, like bone rubbing together. "As I promised, Master Governor. "Lieutenant Sasha Hrelle of Starfleet, the notorious Tailless Cub who had invaded the Black Talon Pride's ship and slaughtered nearly all of them..." He looked past Melem-Adu. "As well as a representative of the Dominion who was a guest onboard."

Melem-Adu turned in place to glance at Weyos, the Vorta liaison assigned to him. The effete little humanoid had been a burr in Melem-Adu's nethers since their arrival, but a successful Occupation here could secure a permanent alliance between the Ferasan Patriarchy and the Dominion. "Yes, as a matter of fact, we did lose a valuable operative in that incident."

Melem-Adu looked back at the other Pridemaster. The Ferasan was guttural trash, leading one of the lesser Prides in the Patriarchy... but over the years had been developing a growing reputation for their ruthless, daring strikes against Federation and Klingon targets. "And you said her father is the Starfleet Captain Esek Hrelle? The Beast of the Orion Deathmatches?"

Udul-Lit grinned, baring more broken teeth in his muzzle. "She confessed as much in the recordings in Shanos Minor."

"Then she's a... mongrel?" Melem-Adu asked with obvious disgust. "Some Caitian-Human hybrid?"

"Not according to my sources in the Orion Syndicate." Udul-Lit drew closer to the large table of foods that sat in the centre of the room, idly reaching out and picking at some of the many offerings, lifting them up and sniffing at them. "He raised her as his own cub. And by Hrelle's marriage to the daughter of Ma'Sala Shall, both are linked to that pirate bitch."