Surefoot 66: By Fire and Water

Seconds later, a very familiar voice filled the air. "Kaijushima Island: this is Captain Hrelle, alive and well and with my Little Howler in hand, and I don't mean my penis. Is my wife around?"

She strode forward, opening the channel, the relief emitting from her like heat from a supernova. "I'm here, you fat bastard, and you're in for a Galaxy of Hurt when you get back here! Is my baby okay?"

Then Sreen responded, "Mama! Papa feesh! Me feesh!"

She gasped; was she speaking already? She shook her head in wonderment. "Are you on the Tailless with Sasha and the others?"

"Not yet, but they're on their way here. We've met friends. Some old, some new... but we'll be home soon. We'll talk again soon. Hrelle out."

She straightened up again as the room let out a collective cheer, Misha taking the opportunity to hop up onto a table and do some silly victory dance.

Kami smiled at them, allowing the tensions of the last few days to ease out of her. Thank you, Mama; even if your advice came to me via my Papas, I still felt it from you. Now, how about showing off some of that stubbornness and coming back from the dead?

* * * * *

Approximately nine billion kilometres from Cait, in the outermost edge of the system, a small black planetoid circled at its own pace, ignored by the Galaxy. It was designated Kuburan by the Caitians, named after one of the Seven Hells of ancient mythology, a Hell reserved for Invaders and Marauders.

In keeping with this origin, Kuburan had long served as a graveyard, a graveyard of starships, the remains of all vessels -- and their crews -- that had tried and failed to attack or invade the Caitian system, in the millennium since the arrival here of the people who would eventually call themselves Caitian. Across the cracked, ebon-carpeted surface could be found the wreckage of the starships of Ferasans, Orions, Romulans, Hur'q, Triacans, Xindi, Malurians, Nausicaans, Kzinti, and even races with no discernible origin.

Most recently, another ship had joined the wreckage: a battlecruiser designated the Mother's Fury, the former flagship of the Caitian Planetary Navy, sent crashing down weeks ago when the Ferasans and Jem'Hadar invaded the system.

Its exterior was dark, cold.

Offering no hint as to the activity within.

On the Bridge, Crewman R'Milla, fatigued and fighting several shades of trauma, had felt himself drifting off into boredom-induced sleep as he entered the fourth hour of his monitoring duties. Following the initial crash onto Kuburan and the initial work required to help the injured and secure the ship's life support systems, then things seemed to slow down. They weren't going anywhere anytime soon, they couldn't call for help, all they could do was assess and reapir, assess and repair. And listen. And all Crewman R'Milla had ever heard while on duty here was the noise of the Universe... occasionally broken by the odd moments of Jem'Hadar traffic from their patrols out here. Otherwise, nothing.

At least, until there was something.

As R'Milla listened, his tail twitching excitedly through the hole in his seat, he suddenly kicked himself mentally for not following protocol, and opened a shipwide channel. "Senior officers to the Bridge, Double Quick! We have a transmission from Cait!"

He rubbed his paws together with excitement. Since their crash landing here, they had been under complete communications blackout, hearing nothing from either within or without the system, and being unable to risk being detected by sending a distress signal to the Federation.

When the senior officers arrived, he rose, still remembering military protocol. "Ma'am, a signal has been transmitted from the Motherworld, bounced through surviving subspace relays, in an effort to escape into the rest of the Galaxy. It's..."

"Play it."

Onscreen, a very familiar male appeared. "My fellow Caitians: I am Mi'Tree Shall. Many of you will know me as an actor, a performer, a Taleteller. You are used to seeing me immersed in fiction. Today, I offer you the truth...."

The assembled listened raptly, one more than the others, her one good eye fixed on the image, the fingers on her cybernetic left arm tapping agitatedly against her hip. Once more she wished they had the resources to create a cloned arm and eye to replace the ones she lost in the battle and the subsequent crash onto Kuburan, hating feeling like a Borg... but then once more she reminded herself of the numbers of her crew who had perished, beyond any medical help.

When the transmission ended, her senior officers looked to her, First Officer Commander Ksara speaking for the rest. "The Ferasans are using us... as breeding stock... to try and save themselves... what are we going to do?"

They all looked to their commanding officer to respond.

Fleet Captain Ma'Sala Shall looked back. "We continue to heal. We continue to make repairs. We continue to ready the Seven Hells Device.

And we remember that our fight has only just begun..."

THE ADVENTURES OF THE SUREFOOT WILL CONTINUE...