Surefoot 64: Thousand Scars

He smirked at his Caitian captive. "At least, not yet."

* * * * *

Kaijushima Island:

Sasha ran through the final checks on the pilot's display when she heard the sounds of someone entering. "About fricking time."

"Cheeky cub."

She turned in her seat. "Grandpa? Sorry, I thought you were Agent Nenjo. What are you doing here?"

Bneea stepped closer, carrying a tray of food. "I brought you some dinner to take with you on the trip."

Sasha almost reminded him that her flyer had an onboard replicator, before simply smiling, rising and replying, "Thanks, Grandpa." She approached and took the tray from him, securing it before hugging him. "Really, thank you."

He pulled back and frowned. "Ooh, maybe I should have brought a tray for Agent Nenjo?"

"No, I'm sure she's got some spy rations or something hidden in her armpit- what's wrong?"

Bneea regarded his granddaughter, squeezing her arms as he continued to hold her. "Your grandmother Ma'Sala was so proud of you, as is your other Grandfather and I. Not just what you've done, but your strength of spirit." Then his expression turned serious. "But none of us want that spirit to be twisted by hate... no matter the provocation."

Sasha swallowed, but before she could respond, Nenjo boarded. "Are we not going, then?"

Sasha ignored her, looking up at Bneea as she said, "I'll try. Thanks again, give my love to Dad, ad we'll be back tonight with the rest of the family."

Bneea smiled and hugged her once more before departing, nodding politely to Nenjo. Sasha closed the door as Nenjo took the pilot seat, though not before glancing at the meal and smirking. "Did your Grandpa really bring you your dinner? Does he tuck you in at night as well?"

Sasha stopped the launch sequence long enough to stab a finger up at the Caitian female. "You make one more joke about him, and I'll be tucking my boot up your ass! Understood?"

* * * * *

In Kaijushima's Ops Centre, Hrelle stared up at the viewscreen, alarm clear in his expression if not his scent at the news. "The Ferasans are there? At the Temple? You have to get out of there, M'Turis! Get Mistress Nvell to safety! I'll get our flyers there-"

"No, Big Balls, you won't." The image of M'Turis in front of him was quickly replaced by an equally-familiar face: female, ashen-furred, ancient but still vibrant and strong-looking. "We've got it all sorted. We're just letting you know we'll be incommunicado for a few days, so don't worry."

He swallowed, not certain if the Kaetini Mistress understood the gravity of the situation, but not feeling arrogant enough to question her. "There must be something we can do for you?"

"Yes, you can stop acting like a mewling little cub, and remember I'm almost twice your age, Asswipe! "

"Mistress Nvell, with respect, you've not dealt with Ferasans before-"

Nvell snorted. "Nor they with me. Save all that spunk for your wife, leave her with a limp and a smile for once instead of cleaning out the snack crumbs from your bed. Talk to you later."

"Mistress Nvell!"

But the transmission ended.

He breathed out, staring at the blackened screen.

Nearby, Lt Mori, who had alerted him to the Emergency call from the Kaetini, asked, "Sir, should I try to hail them again?"

"No," Hrelle finally replied. "We don't want to have our signal tracked back to us. Just set an alert in case they call back and no one is on duty."

"But what about the medical staff we asked for? We still have Militia people injured, some serious!"

Hrelle turned to him. "My wife's firstborn is married to a surgeon; she'll do for a bit, hopefully. And maybe some of the Militia families have qualified people. I'd better go find out about that." He looked back at the screen, picturing the elderly Mistress... and hoping that she really is as capable as she seems.

* * * * *

Shall Clanlands, Mnara Province:

"Meesh! Meesh!" Sitting in her chair on the floor, Sreen pointed a finger in the direction of her nearby milk bottle. "Mik! Mik! NOW!"

Misha blew a raspberry, but he picked up the bottle and scooted up to sit on the floor beside his sister, fitting the nipple of the bottle into her muzzle, supporting the bottle and watching her greedily suck. "Just changed you, Baby Sreen. You gonna pee again."

Mi'Tree chuckled as he sat at his bedroom table, letting his medical unit interface with his cardiac regulator. "It is as inevitable as night following day, my boy." He removed the dermal pad on his furry chest and let the unit update with the local hospital, before turning in his chair to regard his grandcubs, smiling. "I'm very proud of you, Misha."

He looked up, frowning. "What I do?"

"You take such good care of your baby sister. She knows she can depend upon you, and she'll remember what you do for her, and will love you for it for the rest of your lives. And all of this will stand you in good stead years from now, when you have cubs of your own someday." He sighed wistfully. "I only wish I could be around to see that..."

Misha grunted when Sreen spat up milk, and he put down the bottle and wiped her muzzle with the bib around her neck. "Why, were you going?"

Mi'Tree breathed in, buttoning up his shirt again. "Nowhere yet, Dear Cub. I mean, I'm not immortal... and if I'm quite honest, I wouldn't want to be; I'm happy to be part of the Great Story."

"'Great Story'? What's that?"

The older male looked to him, rose and smiled. "The Great, Unending Story, stretching back long before any of us were born, and will continue long after all of us are gone. And we all play parts in it."

He drew closer, picked up Sreen's chair by its handle and walked her out onto the landing, Misha following, the elderly male's voice taking on a soothing tone practised since taking on the role of the Taleteller. "Some of us play great roles, others lesser roles. Some of us are heroes, others villains, most of us... a mix of both. Sometimes the story turns wonderful... other times it's sad, or scary. It can be unfair. And we'll never know how long we have." He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked to Misha. "So: remember to use your time wisely, to be heroic and kind and good, the best someone you can be."

Then Sreen hissed loudly.

The air crackled, as transporter columns appeared around them. Misha glanced around. "Grumpy!"

Mi'Tree turned as the columns coalesced into Ferasans carrying disruptor rifles. "What the-"

The Ferasan nearest him swung out the butt of his rifle, viciously striking the Caitian male across the side of his head and sending him sprawling the carpet.

He lost his hold on Sreen's chair, as it dropped to the floor, at the edge of the top of the stairs, and began tipping over.

Instinctively Misha dove for it, dodging the gasp of a second Ferasan and saving his sister, before the Ferasan finally caught him with his boot, sending him sprawling over his grandfather.

"MEESH!" Sreen screamed.

* * * * *

In the living room, Kami was sitting with S'Graow, Mirow and Ptera when her personal security alarm beeped a Transporter Alert, seconds before the transporter columns appeared and coalesced. She rose to her feet, charging towards the nearest incoming Ferasan and driving her foot into him before he had a chance to do anything other than double over and tumble over a side table.

A second Ferasan charged and swung out with his paw, claws extended, but Kami dodged and kicked at his kneecaps, roaring as she heard her daughter screaming from the top of the stairs.

"MAMA!" Mirow called out now.

She froze, turning to see Mirow and Ptera on their feet, Ferasans holding them from behind, disruptors jammed against their heads. A second later, the butt of a disruptor struck Kami across the muzzle, sending her to the floor.

She crawled backwards from the one who had hit her, spitting out blood as she looked up at the obvious leader of the party, an old, scarred male with bone-white fur and a broken sabretooth. He held out his arms, and over the continued cries from Sreen in the next room, asking, "Now, is that any way to greet visitors to your home, Counselor?"

* * * * *

Kaetini Temple, Mrelle Province:

Hap-Tek shoved Professor C'Moran ahead of him, to join his males in the larger chamber they found, an arched enclosure filled with electronic equipment and illuminated with lighting strips overhead. "What is this place?"

She looked around. "A communications centre. The Kaetini keep connected with all their operatives around Cait. It was different, centuries ago, when we had first landed and the Kaetini acted as independent agents."

"Then this will hold the locations of all the Kaetini agents," he concluded. "And their swords. We'll want their swords, the Arakanium from them." He drew closer and smacked her across the muzzle. "Access the systems!"

She stiffened, but complied, her fingers moving over the keyboard of the nearest station. Seconds later, she drew back. "Someone has wiped them. Her people here must have seen you coming, and done this-"

Her further explanation was lost, as Hap-Tek grabbed her by her mane and twisted her around to face him, as he snarled, "You mean there is nothing here? The secrets of forging Arakanium? Those who would know the method?"

"Commander!" One of his males called to him. "There is a Caitian in the other room!"

Hap-Tek grunted, dragging the Caitian Professor along with him as he joined the others in another, equally large room, a long hall that ended with a stone throne-like chair sitting on a dais at the far end... where an elderly female in a plain purple robe sat, head bowed, grey fur obscuring her face.

"Who is that?" Hap-Tek muttered.

"It's Mistress Nvell," C'Moran replied reverently. "The leader of the Kaetini."

The Ferasan grunted. "That withered old fossil?" He tugged on C'Moran's rope as he strode up to the other end of the hall. "You! Old Cat! Where are your plans for making Arakanium? Your forges and resources?"

The elderly female looked up now, bronze eyes narrowing as she regarded the newcomers.

Then she rose, leaning heavily on a wooden staff in her left paw as she smiled and asked, "Is that you, Sonny?"

Hap-Tek blinked. "What?"

Nvell's expression brightened with recognition. "It is you! My beautiful Grandcub Sonny!" She hobbled down from the dais and limped up to him. "You came to visit, like you promised!"

Then she embraced him, patting him on the shoulder.

Hap-Tek extricated himself, stepping back, confusion and disgust etched on his expression. "What in the Supreme Father's name- are you mad?"

But Nvell didn't seem to hear him, looking him over. "You've grown so much! I remember when you could fit in the crook of my arm, and I bounced you on my lap and fed you tavaberry juice until you piddled in your diaper!"

Some of the other Ferasans tittered at that, until Hap-Tek hissed at them, before stabbing an accusing glare at C'Moran. "This is the leader of the Kaetini?"

The Professor now looked a little embarrassed. "I... I have heard that they allow her to keep the title, despite her... reduced sensibilities." She glanced around again. "Everyone must have fled, taking the secrets, and left her behind."

"I like pudding," Nvell informed them happily, skipping lightly around her staff. "They give me pudding every Hansaday evening after supper, and then we watch a funny Vivid."

"I don't believe this," Hap-Tek muttered. "We come all this way here, and instead of the secrets of Arakanium we find an addled old cat that smells of piss!"

Nvell stopped and looked at him now, eyes bright. "Have you come to learn the secrets, Sonny?"

He bristled. "You know them? Are they rattling around in that empty eggshell you call a skull, you old bitch?"

Nvell chuckled and danced some more. "Oh, they think they took them all... but they don't know about the ones in the Lower Gallery." She stopped and winked at him mischievously.

"What? What Lower Gallery?"

Then the elderly female began singing as well as dancing, "Lower Gallery, Lower Gallery, no one goes to the Lower Gallery..."

Hap-Tek grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to face him, snarling, "Show us this Lower Gallery!"

Nvell looked to him, seemingly oblivious to his impatience and anger, before reaching up and gently cupping the side of his muzzle with her paw, purring, "Of course, Sonny. Anything for my dear Grandcub."

* * * * *

Shall Clanlands, Mnara Province:

The hostages sat in the chairs and on the couches in the living room, with a calmer Sreen wrapped up in Kami's arms and Misha wedged between her mother and grandfather, as half a dozen Ferasans surrounded them. Kami ignored the pain throbbing in her head to focus on their leader, gain whatever information she could from her assessment: a Pridemaster, though definitely not one of the higher, wealthier Prides, with extensive personal combat experience, something she saw not just from his scars and other wounds, but his stance, his reactions. In many ways, he reminded her of what Esek was like, when he was still fresh from his time in the Orion Deathmatches...

He carried himself like he had already won. Perhaps he had.

He kept his eyes on her as another one of his males -- all members of his Pride, to judge from the shared familial scents she picked up -- entered from outside. "We have scoured the grounds, Uncle, and down to the beach. There is a powerboat latched to the docks, but no one is inside. The nearest neighbours appear to be four lachters away."

The leader grunted. "Return to my brother, tell him to post watchers on the overlook to the beach; if I was the Captain, I would come in low over the water, to avoid detection from our high-altitude patrols." As the younger male obeyed and departed, the Pridemaster glanced up at the ceiling, as the sounds of other Ferasans searching the rest of the house could be heard. "I am Udul-Lit, Master of the Thousand Scars Pride. You are Counselor Kami Hrelle, of Starfleet."

She swallowed, focused on presenting to him a frightened female... an image more real than facade, she acknowledged to herself. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Sir. My name is Mleni Dal, Kami's cousin. And I'm not in Starfleet; my husband and I run a restaurant in Kamar-Taj. If you check our records-"

"Then we will no doubt find very excellent forgeries, Counselor. You fight rather well for someone who apparently runs a restaurant."

"Food critics can be brutal in Kamar-Taj."

Udul-Lit laughed with a raspy sneer. "I like you, Counselor. That won't save you, however. Any of you. Before you continue this valiant but pointless exercise, bear in mind this: what I lack in beauty and refinement, I make up for in ferocity... and intelligence gathering. I have contacts in the Orion Syndicate who supplied me with detailed files on you, your husband, his tailless ape daughter..." He indicated Misha. "Your son." Then he pointed at Sreen, the disgust clear in his expression. "And this little crippled lump of flesh."

Misha growled at him.

Udul-Lit made an amused sound as he walked around. "I know what you all look like." He stopped at a framed image on the wall, removing it and holding it up for the captives. "See? Here you all are, at what appears to be a marriage ceremony." He indicated Ptera and Mirow. "You two, I believe? The Counselor's son from a previous marriage, and his wife? And see, here is Captain Hrelle himself, and his human pet, standing next to the murderous whore Ma'Sala Shall-"

Mi'Tree bristled, eyes burning at the invaders to his home, but otherwise kept silent.

Udul-Lit tossed the picture aside, and then began walking around some more, casually knocking things over. "It's foolish to continue this charade, Counselor. I'm quite happy to tear your world apart to get what I what. To tear your family apart. To tear you apart."

She glanced up at the chroniker: the deadline for her sending a signal to Esek on the Island had passed, and no doubt they would be trying to contact, and failing. They would come. All that she and the others here had to do... was survive. "Pridemaster, I know I look a little like my cousin Kami -- that sort of thing runs in our family -- so I wouldn't want you to lose your standing within the Patriarchy by being found wrong."

He stopped and looked at Misha. "Good evening, Misha. Where's your father hiding?"

Misha scowled, crossed his arms and said nothing.

The Ferasan nodded sagely. "Ahhh, I see... he's afraid. The renowned Captain Esek Hrelle of the Surefoot is afraid to face me. He's nothing but a dirty coward."

Now Misha broke his silence. "Papa's not afraid of you, you big poop!"

Mi'Tree rested a paw on his grandcub's arm. "Don't, Misha."

Udul-Lit chuckled, looking back at Kami. "I like your cub; he has loyalty and spirit. I might take him with us. Many of your younger, braver specimens are being collected now, to be adopted into our Pride. Once they've undergone modification to make them... fit in better with our people."

His words, and the implication behind them, sent a chill down Kami's spine, but she forced herself to stay focused on keeping him focused on her, and not anyone else. "Pridemaster, I don't know what sort of records you've been given, but I can assure you, we don't know this Captain Esek Hrelle."

"You're boring me now, Counselor. So, how do you contact him?"

"Pridemaster, I keep telling you-"

He raised his disruptor in the direction of Mirow and Ptera, pointing it at Ptera's pregnant belly. "Finish that lie, Counselor. I dare you."

Mirow bared his teeth. "Don't you fucking threaten my wife-"

Misha roared, tried to leap up at Udul-Lit, but was caught by Mi'Tree, though he continued to struggle in his grandfather's grip. Sreen howled.

Suddenly S'Graow rose to her feet, tensing as the other Ferasans pointed their weapons at her. Over the din of the cubs, she announced, "Pridemaster! I am S'Graow Shall, the Matriarch of this Clan! If you come into my office, perhaps we can discuss this matter like civilised people?"

Udul-Lit regarded her a moment, before lowering his weapon. "But of course, Matriarch. Pa-Sankh, Har-Bai, you will follow. ThirdSon, watch over the rest of them." He bared his broken teeth at Sreen, who continued to mewl. "You'll have that freak silenced by the time we return, Counselor, or I'll bash its head against the nearest wall."

"FIGHT ME!" Misha roared at him, almost squirming out of his grandfather's grasp. "FIGHT ME!"

The Ferasan smirked at the cub's challenge. "I might just do that before this day is out, Little One." He motioned for S'Graow to lead the way.

Kami looked up at her aunt. What did she think she could do? But what could Kami say or do now? There was a hidden communicator to Esek and the others at Kaijushima in case of emergencies, but it was out of reach in the kitchen... and he wasn't due here for many hours.

"Calm her down, Kami," Mi'Tree whispered to her, his eyes fixed on the remaining Ferasans.

She looked down, focusing on her poor daughter, not understanding what was happening around her, and calmed herself, sending purrs through the infant... and when her own efforts failed, she reached inside to adjust the controls on Sreen's exoframe, which allowed her to overcome her disability and control her limbs. The interface could also induce a calming, receptive state, to help a cub wearing one of them to suppress any agitation and stress during the times when they were learning to operate the exoframe. Almost immediately, Sreen began relaxing again.

Kami wished for one for herself.

* * * * *

The study looked like a bomb had been detonated in here, and S'Graow had to step over toppled lamps and bookcases, readying her pitch to the Ferasans but waiting until they closed the door so her niece didn't hear. "Pridemaster, I don't know if you're aware, but I have been in contact with your offices already about handing over the Starfleet terrorists to you."