Surefoot 65: Lone Cat and Cub

She looked around again. "You all have your orders. Get moving."

*

Sreen's hiss snapped Hrelle awake, as the door to the room was kicked in, and a large silhouette in the doorway -- a Jem'Hadar soldier -- fired a blue-white disruptor bolt in the direction of the bed. He clutched Sreen to him tightly and rolled off the side of the bed to the wooden floor, as the bolt struck the wall nearest the bed, splintering the wall and sending sparks to set the bedcovers on fire.

Hrelle reached for a leg of the adjacent table, gripped it and flipped the table in the direction of the intruder, sending the beer and other objects flying in the direction of the doorway, before he grabbed a fallen plasma pistol, aiming and firing, even as he dodged another bolt that grazed his back, singeing his fur there.

He heard his attacker fall as his plasma bolt struck, but he also heard others outside, gruff voices barking orders at each other.

Hrelle clutching the infant closer to him as he slung his bag over his other shoulder and rose, still naked but not stopping to cover up; they couldn't let their attackers have time to organise outside.

"Get him!" he heard Syras outside urging, "What are you waiting for? Get them both and give me the reward!"

Hrelle stayed low, as bolts shot through the walls of the room at waist level, blindly trying to hit him. He crawled to the doorway, pressing Sreen tight against his chest as he set his pistol to Self-Destruct and flung it out in the direction of the attackers, hearing it bounce against a wall as he dropped, fully covering Sreen with his body-

The blast blew out portions of the surrounding walls and made his ears pop, but he had to move now. Taking Sreen by the scruff of her onesie between his teeth, he picked up his phaser in one paw and his sword in the other and raced out into the smoke, determined to get to the stairs past the balcony overlooking the tavern-

Only to find most of the balcony had been blown away by the blaster detonation.

He barely managed to land safely on his feet and still hold onto Sreen in his mouth, as he found himself surrounded, not by drinking patrons, but more Jem'Hadar, stunned from the explosion but quickly recovering.

Wasting no time, he spun around, again and again, firing, kicking, stabbing, finishing off the Jem'Hadar... while Sreen squealed with delight at it all.

I've got a weird cub....

A disruptor bolt from a surviving soldier on the balcony sent him running for cover behind the bar and firing back, catching him and sending him sprawling over the edge to land with the others.

"Papa!" Sreen laughed. "Moar! Moar!"

A noise made him twist and aim his phaser- stopping as he saw it was Syras, cowering behind the bar as well, paws raised in surrender. "P-Please- T-They- They came in, threatened me-"

Hrelle aimed at the male's head -- until he focused on Sreen, a witness... and a reminder that, for all his willingness to kill in self-defence, he wasn't a murderer. He took Sreen from his mouth and held her against him, growling, "Spend the rest of your treacherous life looking over your shoulder, you bastard... because someday I'll come back to settle with you. Thanks for the hospitality."

"Bye Bye!" Sreen called happily as Hrelle took her out into the night.

Hrelle departed into a street filled with onlookers. He was still naked... but everyone was looking more at the weapons in his paws than anywhere else, as he heard more Jem'Hadar approach, and he raced in the opposite direction, people parting quickly.

He darted down a winding alley, past numerous doorways, some of them open where occupants were querying the commotion, but quickly closing again on seeing a naked male running past wielding a sword and phaser in his paws and holding a cub in his mouth.

Finally, he stopped, setting down the sword to cradle Sreen more properly in his arm, his feet and limbs aching. He started at a noise from the avenue he had just left-

"Hey."

He looked across, seeing an older smoke-furred female, with an infant cub swaddled in her arms. She glanced down the alley, before focusing on Sreen, and motioning them inside. "Come, inside."

He looked past her, to the interior of her dwelling, and the cubs of different ages peering out curiously. "I- I don't want to endanger you- your household-"

She grunted. "Someone is obviously after you both. No one threatens cubs while I'm alive. Get inside... and put on some pants."

He nodded gratefully, grabbed his sword and bag and complied.

*

Kami stood watching and listening to her son sleep under sedation on the cot, occasionally growling and mumbling to himself under the influence of some dream, no doubt about the events of today. His arm had been fully healed, the facility's equipment finishing the job started by the resources on the flyer, though of course his psychological healing would take longer.

More trauma heaped upon your cubs thanks to you, she accused herself, immediately working her own psychological coping mechanisms: immediately acknowledging the guilt she felt, and then placing it in perspective. There were more pressing concerns.

Papa Bneea slipped an arm around hers and silently, gently but insistently guiding her out of the room and switching off the light, joining Jhess in the adjacent quarters. The spotted male looked to them both. "He'll be fine tomorrow; I gave him some kayolane to give him a sound sleep."

Kami nodded, offering an exhausted smile. "Thank you, Jhess. I'm sorry I haven't been around to see how you and the other Sabrecats are coping."

He waved off her apology. "No need; I've been in touch with my ex-wife and son in Shanos Minor, and they're okay, organising protests against the Security clampdowns, but I'm trying to convince them to come here. My fellow Militia are recovering to varying degrees. Many of us are eager to begin taking the fight to the Ferasans."

"I understand, and I promise you, they will, and soon... with you in charge, if you're willing and able."

He smiled. "I'm both."

"Good. When you get back, I want you to organise a Security detail; you'll have access to the Armoury, I want at least four people on duty at all times, with one always in the Command Bay at the Tactical station, and the others on patrol, being a reassuring, visible presence to our refugees." She yawned. "Excuse me."

She caught Jhess and Bneea exchanging glances, before the nanny smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "You've had a very stressful day. Get some rest, and we'll have Esek and My Lady back before you know it. Good night."

As he left, Kami yawned again, and Bneea guided her to the beds. Like everything else here, it was all basic, windowless being underground but with wall panels that could display any number of virtual environments to help alleviate the claustrophobia. For Kami, though, it merely accentuated what they had lost today. "Papa..."

"Shhh." He helped remove her shoes and outer clothes, before guiding her to lie down, slipping beside her, reaching up to the wall control to turn off the lights. "I am so proud of you, My Little Nova. You are managing us so well. But now, you need sleep; the way things are going, you don't know how much you'll manage before we're needed again."

She breathed in her father's scent, taking her back to her days as a cub, coming to sleep with him whenever Mama was out in deep space, fighting the enemy...

The enemy who had now killed Mama, had devastated their world and family and... "Papa... they blew up the house. Blew it to pieces. Destroyed everything. Our clothes, our furnituyre, our mementos... Rmorra's old shirt, Papa Mi'Tree's awards-"

"It doesn't matter, Kami. None of it does."

"It's all gone. The house had stood for generations, everything that was in it-"

He stroked her mane softly, gently. "Houses can be rebuilt. Things are just things. Family is all that matters."

She swallowed, reaching up to wipe the tears welling in her eyes before they stained the mattress. "They killed S'Graow. She- She was betraying us, trying to get control of the Clanlands in exchange for getting Esek and Sasha."

"Yes. And I'm more sorry than I had expected for her loss."

"And Esek- my baby- they're out there, alone-"

Bneea purred as he strengthened his touch on her. "You know your husband better than anyone else. You know what he's capable of in the defence of his family. We have good people taking shifts in the Command Bay, watching and listening, and they know to contact us if they hear anything. Now try to sleep; if you're still anything like you were at Misha's age, you'll be the crankiest little bitch when you don't get enough."

Despite herself, she couldn't keep from smiling in the dark.

*

Hrelle had been reluctant to accept the aid, not wanting to put the female and her household in danger with their presence. But M'Troia, the wife of a fisherman currently out to sea, had waved off his concerns... and he knew that, stuck in a strange city in the middle of the night and with the Enemy in the streets, he had little choice.

Her cubs had been awakened by the commotion outside, and their restlessness only increased when they recognised, not Hrelle, but Sreen, from her appearances on her grandfather Mi'Tree's show The Taleteller. They entertained her with games and she returned the favour with one of her made-up babble songs.

The exception was the eldest male cub, Shuul, a ten-year-old coffee-furred male who watched this intruder in his home with sullen suspicion, resisting Hrelle's attempts to placate or befriend him. We understand each other, Cub. You stand firm in protecting your home.

M'Troia, meanwhile, found Hrelle some spare clothes from her husband's wardrobe -- Thank Mother for stretchy pants -- before she let him sleep on her couch, Sreen against him once she grew exhausted again. He slept fitfully through the rest of the night, woke up early with the rest of the household, and ate quickly, seeing his image on all the household Cynet channels from the Ferasans, along with a reward: a thousand bars of gold-pressed latinum for information on his whereabouts.

An offer that M'Troia snorted when she caught him looking over at her while she set out breakfast for her cubs. "Don't worry, Captain. I was raised to know that my integrity is worth more than any wealth... besides, if I get the money for turning you in, my fool husband would just spend it on fancy fur combs and bags of sugared Claw Flakes for the cubs."

She looked at Sreen, sitting on her father's lap shaking a rattle, before moving to an adjacent room, returning with a red scarf, wrapping it around the infant's head and shoulders. "Cubs in this part of the city can't afford contraptions like this. Best to keep her looking ordinary."

"Thank you, M'Troia." He looked around at her modest home. "Listen, you and everyone else in Sekuro need to know: if the Ferasans, if anyone, tells you that you or your cubs or anyone you know is sick with Metremia and need to come away with them to be cured... don't listen to them."

She grunted, reaching out to tickle under Sreen's muzzle, making the infant purr. "We may live more traditionally here than in the Northern Provinces, Captain, but we know the Truth of Things."

He smiled in recognition. "'The Truth of Things, as Vast and Undeniable as the Seas'."

She looked to him. "How does a Starfleet officer know a Sea Saying?"

He finished his tea. "I had a life on Cait before I went to space." He reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced a credit card. "It's not a thousand bars of GPL, but there's a little something for your troubles-"

Now she waved it off. "But nothing. Put it away, you might need it getting out of the city."

But he set it down, and slid it across the table. "You've done a lot for my daughter and me, for which I will be forever in your debt."

He took his leave, the family, minus Shuul, who just still scowled at the departure, waving them off, Sreen -- strapped in a shoulder carrier provided by M'Troia -- grumpy as the Seven Hells at having to leave behind her new friends, but then distracted as she took in the scents and sights and sounds of the streets and markets of Sekuro.

Hrelle was equally alert, but more out of self-defence than curiosity, noting the presence of Jem'Hadar, moving through the crowds... blocking the way to the maglev stations and the autocar hire depots.

Mother's Cubs, his image was appearing on the public displays overhead, along with that reward! And judging from Sylas' actions last night, he couldn't count on everyone being as generous and decent as M'Troia.

And the Jem'Hadar were running checks on everyone passing by them in intersections.

He moved towards the police stations... but saw more Jem'Hadar, and now Ferasans with them, and Caitian police being forced back inside the station, barred from leaving.

He turned and headed towards the docks. His original powerboat will almost certainly have been confiscated, but he might be able to steal another-

More Jem'Hadar. Shit, shit, shit...

Looking over his right shoulder, Sreen picked up on his growing unease and made curious sounds. He reached up and scratched under her chin. "It's okay, my Warrior Princess. It's... going to be okay."

He moved with the crowds, finding himself near the larger docks, where the bigger fishing boats were berthed, taking on more supplies or crew, many maintaining the tradition of using segmented square sails, though there were of course modern engines and equipment also onboard. There was a flurry of activity here, one he could get lost in, even as his mind linked back to his days as a cub, when he helped his father prepare their own boat... Mother's Cubs, decades ago. Lifetimes-

Sreen hissed.

He turned, instinctively ascending a gangplank to one large boat as if having meant to do so all along.

Unaware that he was being watched from the docks...

Hrelle stepped onto the ship, ensuring he had access to his phaser in his pocket, as his sword was wrapped up in his shoulder pack beside Sreen. He looked around, feeling the deck beneath his feet, the heady activity, as bracing as the salty taste in the air-

"You!"

Hrelle paused, turning to the origin of the voice: a broad-shouldered, Caitian male about his age, with flint-coloured fur broken in places from a life of rope and hook scars Hrelle remembered seeing on his own father, and dressed in rugged, weather-beaten fisherfolk's clothes. The male drew up, regarding Hrelle, and then Sreen. "We didn't order any extra ballast on this voyage."

Hrelle heard the laughter from the male's crew around them at the joke, though he kept one eye still on the docks, and the Jem'Hadar at the far end, making a nuisance of themselves as they moved through the crowds. "Sorry for the intrusion, Mister..."

The other male kept up a cautious edge as he focused on Hrelle. "It's Captain Sallah. Why are you and this little fish onboard the Highsun?" He chuckled. "Surely not to look for work onboard? An old Groundpounder like you?"

"Uh... yes." He glanced back at the docks. "Yes, I am. Times are tough. And I promise you: I'm no Groundpounder."

Sreen raised a stubby furred finger at Sallah. "No Gowpow!"

"I grew up Fisherfolk, up north in R'Trerah," Hrelle continued. "You never lose your Sea Tail, my Papa used to say."

The Captain nodded, looking dubious, before glancing around and lifting up a short length of five-hemp rope, tossing it to Hrelle. "If you're Fisherfolk, tie me a Shawshank Knot in that hawser."

Hrelle caught it, looking at the intricate weave, stained with seasalt and grease. "I can't do that... because there's no such thing as a Shawshank Knot." He worked the rope in his paws anyway, his fingers seemingly moving of their own accord from long-buried muscle memory. "I can tie you a Clove Line, a Cleat Hitch, a Paw Twist, a Slip Knot..."

He finished his work and held it up. "Here, a Timber Six; that's ideal for securing your foresail." He threw it back to Sallah. "And we both know that line's not a hawser. The hawsers are the bigger lines you use for mooring or towing your ship."

He walked around the deck a little, stepping out of the way of the crew as they passed... while still keeping an eye on the docks, and the Jem'Hadar getting closer. "My Papa used to nail a gold piece to the main mast at the start of every season to guarantee a successful haul, and a safe return home. Nice to see you do the same Down South." He looked fore. "Do you join the cut splice lines of your staysail and jib on a three-rung pattern, or four?"

Sallah tossed aside the knot Hrelle had made, grunting and looking a little annoyed at the level of knowledge Hrelle displayed, and the approving reactions it was producing from the other members of the crew who were listening in on the exchange. "Five; the Southern Shears off the Icefields will rip through the sails with any smaller pattern." He drew up to Hrelle, frowning at Sreen. "We're not some pampered R'Trerah tail chasers dragging their mewling cubs around."

Sreen scowled and shook a finger at him again. "Sleddy Za Saboy!"

"You heard her," Hrelle told him, lowering his voice as he glanced back behind him. Mother's Cubs, the Jem'Hadar were almost on them, and if they had to fight their way out... "Look, Captain, I know my business, I'm not afraid of hard work, and my daughter won't cause any trouble-"

Sallah stepped back, motioning to one of the younger males. "Gershom! Take them down to my cuddy!" Locking eyes on Hrelle now, he added softly, "Go straight down, don't look back at the docks, we're setting off directly. After we leave the Bay, I'll be down to see you."

Hrelle stiffened... and realised he had no choice but to trust the Captain. He followed the short young male downstairs along the steep, narrow steps and into a small cabin, cluttered and smelling of smoke and alcohol and with a tiny hexagonal porthole looking out onto the Bay of Sekuro. He drew out his phaser when they were alone.

"Feza?" Sreen asked, staring at it.

He moved around, looking for escape routes, other weapons, anything at all that might convince him that he was right to not suspect Captain Sallah of being ready to betray them. "Only if necessary, Little Howler... the charge is low at this point that we have to be sparing-" He paused and looked up at her, smiling. "Wait, did you just say 'phaser'? Go on, say it again! 'Phaser'! 'Phaser'!"

She just stared at him and said nothing.

"Please?" he added, smiling.

She shook her head. Literally shook her head.

Stubborn little bag of attitude... He set his shoulder bag down, keeping his phaser and the top of his sword in paw's reach as he continued to listen to the sounds uptop, while withdrawing his communicator, needing to send a message to the Exchange and inform them of the change of plans-

Shit. Shit Shit SHIT! It wasn't working! Something was wrong with it, but he didn't have the tools to work out what! Or the time-

He started as he felt the engines of the Highsun come to life; Hrelle knew that though they would favour the old-fashioned sails for when they were chasing the more elusive sleekfish and guthiks, they would power their way out of the harbour. He heard the hawsers being uncoiled from the dock moorings, and the raising of the anchor.

"Gogo?" Sreen asked.

He looked up at the low ceiling of the Captain's cabin, as if he could see through the bulkhead. "Yes, Sweetheart. I think we're going. I think we're really getting away."

*

Kami was a veteran of forcing herself into a state of alertness when called upon during shipboard emergencies. Still, when she was summoned by a message from the Command Bay, awakening in an unfamiliar bed with Papa Bneea next to her instead of Esek, she allowed herself a moment of anxious confusion, before dressing and rushing up, Bneea following, after checking to confirm Misha was still heavily asleep, and that Mirow and Ptera had been settled nearby as well.