Surefoot 66: By Fire and Water

His sister never looked back at him. "Yeah, I heard, I just didn't care." She nodded to Hrelle. "Well?"

He looked between them. "If I can get a call to our landline Exchange, pass on a coded message-"

Neshama nodded. "Let's go to the Bridge."

Sallah reached for her arm. "Nesh, I order you-"

Quickly she raised her arm, her teeth bared. "Don't you dare try and order me around, Little Brother! I'll have your balls for breakfast! He has an infant to care for!"

Hrelle stepped back, scenting the growing hostility and anxiety between them... and knowing that he was the cause of it, or at least the trigger for it.

Sallah glared back at her. "Remnan-"

"I don't want to talk about him!" she growled, eyes fixing on Hrelle. "Let's go."

Hrelle complied, keeping back as they moved through the narrow, winding corridors up to the deck. Here, the sky was black with evening, heavily-dotted with a million stars unencumbered by the light pollution of major metropolitan areas, and waves crashing onto the hull as the Highsun continued westward, deeper into the heavier fishing areas of the Free Seas. The air was balmy, salty.

Neshama stopped at the foot of the steps up to the Bridge, her tail twitching agitatedly, her paws gripping the spray-dotted rails, as if staring at one of the steps.

Hrelle stared at the back of her, until she asked, still not looking at him, "Mr Hanzō... or do I call you 'Captain Hrelle'?"

He swallowed. "'Esek' is fine. I never set out to deceive you or anyone else onboard, or to get anyone else involved."

Neshama continued to keep her back to him, before finally turning around. "I believe you... Esek. No male can be bad with a cub as sweet as yours." She breathed out. "We had a younger brother, Remnan, worked the ship with us since we were all cubs. He went off twelve years ago and joined the Planetary Navy when the last Ferasan War fired up. We told him not to, tried to tell him what happened out in space wasn't our business. But Remnan was as stubborn as... well, the rest of us.

He bought into the propaganda, ended up on some on shitty little outpost... and was killed. There wasn't even anything left of him to ship home."

Hrelle's heart sank. "I'm sorry, Nesh. There's nothing I can say that would take away the pain of that loss to you and the rest of your family. But I do know that without the sacrifices of the Planetary Navy and the Militia out on the colonies, the Ferasans could have swept in and attacked the Motherworld."

Her expression tightened. "You mean, like they've just done now? So really, Remnan and all the others who died twelve years ago died for nothing? Nice to know." She turned and ascended the steep steps to the Bridge, Hrelle following, unable to really respond to her.

She sent the crewman on duty on the Bridge out to get his evening meal, before working the radio, frowning as she reported, "Something's wrong. I'm not getting any of the official or private channels, no ship chatter. Just static. We just had this set checked before we set out."

He stepped up to it now, running diagnostics. "It's not your radio. The Jem'Hadar are flooding all the main local bandwidths with interference."

"What? Are you sure?"

He nodded absently as he ran further checks. "There's no contact with Sekuro, not now, not while they're still looking for me there."

"Seven Hells- what if we had some emergency onboard and had to call for an airlift?"

"Our health and safety isn't high on their priorities..." He moved to the Navigation table, examining the charts and the electronic equivalent on the adjacent panel. "Is this your projected route?"

Neshama drew up to him. "Yes. The ships of the Free Fleet parcel out the territories at the start of each season. Why?"

Hrelle breathed out, indicating a position on the chart. "Do you think you can convince your brother to divert the Highsun along this route for a couple of days?"

She peered at where he pointed. "There? Why? The only thing out there is Kaijushima Island Reserve, it's a Restricted Area-" Then she looked up at him. "Is that where your people are hiding out?"

"My communicator still functions on the shorter bands. If I can get within a thousand kilometres of the island, I can signal them without being detected by the Enemy."

She regarded him, her furred brow furrowing, before taking over the navigational panel, keying in a new route. "We'll be there in three days."

"What about your brother?"

"I'll deal with him. But I suggest you keep yourself as useful as you've already done, so he has no further gripe with you." Her expression softened. "He's not all that bad. He still feels anger... and guilt... over our brother, and feels he has to shoulder the burdens of everything himself, like a Big Growling Male. Bet there's some of that in you, too."

Despite himself, Hrelle smirked. "Are you sure you're not in communication with my wife?"

* * * * *

Capitol Building:

Melem-Adu had promised the next one to disturb his sleep would end up a rug on his floor; the underling sent to wake him made sure he blurted out the reason for the disturbance.

Melem-Adu forgot his promise as he dressed quickly and rushed back into the Operations Centre, hoping that the wretched slug Weyos would be elsewhere.

But he was there, smiling inanely as always. And fuck you too, you little powder-skinned mollusc. But the Ferasan focused on the image filling the main screen, swallowing as much of his pride as he could, as he bowed before it. "Highest, this is an unexpected surprise!"

The image was that of an older male, imperiously clad in rich multicoloured furs and armour plating, his fur impeccable, a diamond stud fixed ostentatiously at the base of his right sabretooth, and the voice was like claws raked across slate. "And no doubt an unwanted one in your estimation, pup. And in mine: I entrusted you to carry out the Occupation smoothly and without incident. Now I hear of open rebellion, terrorism, mass murder of our people! What is going on there?"

You didn't 'entrust' me with Governership of this misbegotten rock, Melem-Adu told himself acidly. I forced your paw, you wizened old skeleton, by holding the keys to destroying the Caitian defences. "It's nothing, Highest. A few stray Caitian Starfleet officers stirring a little trouble."

The older male bared his teeth. "You make them sound insignificant! I saw the recordings of Captain Esek Hrelle, single-pawedly slaughtering the Thousand Scars Pride two days ago! Then there's his Tailless Cub, who did the same to the Black Talon Pride in the Legara Minor System two years ago! Who knows how many of his vicious family are out there now, murdering our people, stirring up dissent among the Caitians?"

Melem-Adu bit back his anger and chagrin -- again -- and straightened himself up further. Yes, you definitely have spies here, updating you on our every move... and every failure... "Highest, we have destroyed their base of operations, and scattered them to the four corners of Cait. Now it's just a matter of tracking them down, executing them and making them an example to the rest of the Prey.

The Caitians are meek and subservient by nature, as befits an inferior race that allows women to rise about their station." He indicated Weyos. "Our Dominion allies are even now mere moments away from capturing Captain Hrelle. We will have this matter settled before you know it, trust me."

"That's just it... I don't. Thus, I have already dispatched from the Fatherworld someone who can achieve what you obviously cannot: my Hunter Prime."

Melem-Adu blinked and suppressed a shudder, his pulse racing even further with the news. The Patriarch's own Hunter, Tracker... and Executioner? Coming here? Seven Hells... "There's... There's no need to involve the Hunter Prime, Highest."

"He is halfway there now. He will deal with these Starfleet scum... and you will give him your utmost cooperation. When can we expect the first shipment of females and cubs to us?"

"A... matter of weeks, Highest. We have over a quarter-million subjects ready, tested, prepared and isolated in camps across the planet, the Transport Fleet is in the final stages of construction."

"And the females' genetic compatibility to carry our progeny?"

"That's... still being examined."

"Then you had best be prepared to collect more infants. They can be cosmetically altered, and raised in our image. We may end up keeping that world as a breeding colony, taking their infants as and when required." The Patriarch glared down at him. "The fate of our people rests with you, Melem-Adu. Do not fail us."

He drew back. "Highest, I can assure you-"

But the Patriarch ended his side of the transmission, leaving the Operations Centre in stunned silence.

Until Weyos offered his always-unsolicited opinion. "Well, I must say, Master Governor, you are a bold one."

Melem-Adu ground his teeth, desperate for some spirits and a couple of females to take his frustrations out upon. He faced the Vorta now. "What in the Seven Hells are you blathering about?"

Weyos glanced at the Jem'Hadar guards eternally flanking him, as if they were in on the opinion. "Well, it takes a certain amount of nerve to lie so brazenly to your Supreme Authority."

Melem-Adu let his claws pop out as he strode up slowly to the Dominion liaison. "You call me a liar, before my son? My people?"

Weyos affected a dramatically suffering expression now. "Oh, no offence was intended, I can assure you. But I can only point out the truth: the Caitians' civil disobedience is rising, the completion of the transport ships has been delayed further, and you are still nowhere near capturing or killing Captain Hrelle and his terrorists."

The Ferasan bared his teeth... even as he acknowledged the Jem'Hadar watching him, tightening their hold on their weapons as he drew closer to the object of their protection. "The Caitians will mewl over what they have learned -- those few who choose to even believe it, of course -- but they will do little more.

Any disquiet felt by my people over a delay in the transports arriving will soon dispel when they see the females and the offspring we finally send them.

As for Hrelle..." He sneered without fear at the Jem'Hadar. "These manufactured monstrosities of yours were tasked with his apprehension... and despite their vaunted reputation, they have failed. Miserably! If these are your Founders' soldiers, then perhaps they're not the Gods you think they are!"

Weyos' default simper seemed to tighten now at the open insults. "The Jem'Hadar are the most feared combatants in the Gamma Quadrant, Master Governor, and their reputation is quickly reaching across the Alpha Quadrant as well." Now he stepped forward, fixing his purple-eyed gaze up at the Ferasan. "And you would do very well to curb your anger, the next time you wish to insult the most glorious Founders of the Dominion."

Then he departed, the Jem'Hadar following... after shooting murderous glares at Melem-Adu from their beady eyes.

He hissed at their departure. Go back to the test tubes where you were grown like bacteria and rot, you miserable excuses for real life...

* * * * *

Kami had eaten, slept (with her fathers and son in the same quarters for their scent and company), awakened, showered and ate once more, ready to meet with Nenjo once more, her lingering anxiety over the present crisis and the lack of news on Esek, Sreen, Sasha and the others' fates still keeping her on edge. But she was determined to keep herself distracted... and to keep the others deceived into thinking she could command in her husband's absence. "Tell me what you've got for us, Agent Nenjo."

The younger, black-furred female turned to the nearest Tactical display, which presented a map of a section of Cait that Kami didn't immediately recognise. "This is the Lowmere Communications Hub in the Eastern Pakui Desert, four hundred kilometres northeast of Sekuro. It's an automated station that has seen recent Ferasan activity; we believe they are using it to supplement their Global Communications Network."

Next to Kami, Lt Mori peered at the display. "If we sabotaged the facility-"

"They would shut it down and reroute to other hubs," Nenjo replied. "Better to let them continue to use it, while I slip in and plant an algorithm that will cloak our own communications from their detection, but still let us monitor theirs freely."

"Why there?" Kami asked. "And not somewhere else?"

"Because we picked up word that the Ferasan troops stationed there have been rerouted to Sekuro to help in the search for Captain Hrelle. And one of the available Skycats can ferry me there in their flyer, using a false Ferasan identity beam; the Skycats, of course, will be familiar with the Pakui Province."

Kami nodded thoughtfully; it seemed like a sound plan. "Can your algorithms accomplish that much?"

"Yes, Commander. Professor S'Li left a series of specific-"

"Wait, wait- Rmolo S'Li? My great-grandfather? He was a Professor of Exolinguistics and Phonology at the University of Shanos Major!"

The younger female seemed bemused by Kami's response. "Forgive me, Commander, but he was much more than that. In his time, he served as a civilian communications specialist for the Planetary Navy and Starfleet, a cryptography specialist for the Caitian Secret Service... and as I understand it, he was also a member of the Kaetini Order."

She was taken aback by the revelation. She remembered Great Grandpa Rmolo, of course; he had been charming, kind, funny, and despite his advanced age and dotage, maintained a keen intellect. To hear of his alleged involvement with the Secret Service or the Kaetini, she wondered if Mama knew.

Well, of course Mama knew; Mama knew everything. But still... "Whatever my great-grandfather's skills when he was alive, his work is at least fifty years old. It can't be of any use to us now."

Nenjo regarded her thoughtfully. "Commander... your great-grandfather was a genius. He created algorithms -- to translate the untranslatable, to hide and encrypt transmissions -- that still stand the test of time, algorithms that Starfleet Intelligence, even Section 31 would give their right paws to have. And much of what he accomplished inspired your mother to take on the mantle of the head of the Mother's Claws. You should be proud of your family's accomplishments."

Kami stared back, surprised at the unprecedented level of genuine respect the younger female was displaying... which she also acknowledged could just be respect for Kami's elders rather than for Kami herself. "I am, thank you. And I hope to maintain the high standards they have set. Tell me more about this mission: risk factors, duration, resources required. And let's be quick; I have a security inspection to make in an hour's time..."

* * * * *

Sasha fought the black sluggishness and pain inside her skull, using her Starfleet training to push herself towards consciousness. She kept as still as she could, her eyes closed, in case she was being watched, and recalled the last memories she had: she had suspected the Constable had been lying to her, and tricked him into revealing it, but too late realised she had been drugged. And now...

Now, she was lying on her left side, and as she kept her eyes closed and her movements to a minimum in case she was being watched, she determined her arms were bound behind her, with something metallic wrapped around her wrists, and something wrapped tightly around her torso, but her legs were free at least. She was on a wooden floor, and there was a smell of beer, cleaning fluid, a smoky substance that might have been repaired equipment-

"I know you're awake," announced a familiar, if unwelcome voice. "Don't make any sudden movements."

She opened her eyes, blinking in the dim light. She found herself in what looked like a narrow booth, with a long control panel beneath a tilted, tinted window, and several chairs on wheels lining it.

And the Constable who had seemingly rescued her sat in the last chair nearest what appeared to be the only door in or out. He was leaning back, the heels of his boots on the edge of the control panel, and her Kaetini sword was in his paws as he examined the black blade, never looking over at her. "I was expecting you to stay knocked out for another six hours at least, but then I had to guess at the amount of sedative to knock out an alien."

Sasha's mouth was dry, her tongue like sandpaper, even as her head felt like a phaser grenade had gone off inside it. She struggled to try and sit up... seeing that some sort of harness was strapped to her waist, the straps converging on a circular disc pressed against her breastbone. "What the Hell have you put on me?"

He didn't answer, holding the sword by the handle and pressing the pointed tip against the window... and then laughing as it passed through the material, as if nothing was there. He set it down and examined the window, barely able to discern the molecular. "Mother's Cubs, super-thin, extra-strong... you know, there's a Kaetini here in Sekuro, a doddery old bastard content to run a shitty little souvenir shop in the Eastern District. He's got one of these swords. Why doesn't he sell it and go live the High Life?"

"If you have to ask that," she told him. "Then you don't understand what it means to be Kaetini. What's going on? Where am I? Why are you doing this to me?" She helped herself up into a sitting position, her back against the nearest wall... and her hands out of his view. She examined herself; her holosuit unit and other spy gadgets were missing. She stomped her boots on the floor. "Answer me, Goddammit!"

"I told you not to make any sudden movements. That's an infernite charge."

She froze, looking down again at the disc, her pulse rate doubling. "Infernite?"

The Constable made an affirmative noise. "Confiscated it from an arsonist's residence two months ago, and 'forgot' to sign it in to the Evidence Lockers. Don't know why I kept it... glad I did now, though."

She forced her fear back down into her like bile, fought to control her trembling; assuming he wasn't talking shit, she figured there was more than enough on her to kill her. "Why the fuck have you strapped infernite to me?"

"Insurance." He produced a small control unit, showing it to her before setting it down again. "I'm meeting with the Ferasans to collect the reward for you; if they try to double cross me..." He made a whooshing sound. "Chargrilled Ape."

"You're- You're betraying me to the Enemy? For money?"

He nodded. "Admittedly, it's not as much as I'd get for Captain Hrelle, but you've been almost as big an itch in the Ferasans' balls as he has, and I convinced them that with a little persuasion you might lead them to him."

Sasha swallowed, feeling herself grow cold with disbelief. "You're- You're Caitian... you can't be working for the Enemy!"

Now he reacted with indignation as he sneered, "I don't work for aliens. This is just business: you, in exchange for enough gold-pressed latinum for me to retire early and get a house on Lake Meru. Maybe a boat, too. And some of these toys of yours could pay for a few extra luxuries -"

"Listen- I can get you money- I have resources, access to money-"

He smirked. "Yeah, I'm sure you do. I mean, you wouldn't say anything to save your tailless ass at this point."

"And what would your parents say? You told me they had a restaurant near where you lived. Would they agree to what you're doing?"

"Probably not," he conceded thoughtfully after a moment. "They're honest, hard-working people, who will slave and toil and pinch the coins and never complain about their lot... and they'll die honest, but poor. Me? I'd rather die drunk in a plush bed pounding into a prettytail in Season. Crooked, but comfortable."