Surefoot 67: The Only Good Ferasan

The infant stirred, as if aware that she was the object of discussion, as Ptera continued. "Meet Jnill Mroara-Lnee the Second, the latest member of our clan... as beautiful and wonderful as her namesake. Mother... you told me once how you felt when you first held me. I never really understood what you meant... until now.

We're all safe and well here. And soon, we'll all be together again, alive and free. And you will hold your namesake, and take in her scent, and plan for all the days ahead that she will stand at your side, and learn, and if she's a tenth as strong and smart and vibrant as you, she'll be amazing.

Take care. Stay safe. We love you."

*

Shall Clanlands, Mnara Province:

It was almost midday in this part of the planet, when the Ferasan shuttle swooped over the irregular coastline before slowing down, the sole pilot, a young pewter-furred Ferasan male sat trying his best to just act calmly and professionally and do what his Pridemaster had ordered him to do: fly the Hunter Prime wherever he wanted to go.

But as he initiated the descent sequence, his mind was rushing like a waterfall: okay, okay, you can do this, Runt, just ease it down, slowly, gently, you don't have to disturb him or his pet, but by the All-Father, the male was so HUGE! He looked like he could kill me with one of his farts! And his bird! It was beautiful, so beautiful, never thought I'd see a live dragonhawk in my lifetime, but Father's Claws, it could probably eat me for breakfast!

Sitting in the rear of the shuttle, occasionally dipping into the thoughts of the other male, Valtiri suppressed his telepathy, and his amusement. In contrast to the other Ferasans here he had met so far, Runt of the Umber Tail Pride was refreshingly straightforward and free of arrogance and disdain and obsession with power and ambition. He also knew that, from the thoughts of his fellow Pride members when Valtiri encountered them, Runt was given little if any respect... a fact that only raised him in Valtiri's estimation.

Perched on the adjacent seat, sensing their imminent landing, Nyx fluttered her wings impatiently -- and then squawked in anger as the shuttle lurched. Valtiri forwent reaching into the younger Ferasan's mind to ask aloud, "What is it?"

"Sorry, Sire!" Runt answered back quickly, apologetically. "I startled one of our patrol packs on the Shall Clanlands! They locked their rifles' targeting systems on us for a moment before I contacted them and told them who was onboard!"

He frowned. "Why are our people on the Shall Clanlands?"

"I believe the Master Governor wanted it monitored in case any of them came back-" He paused, listening to something in his earpiece. "They've apprehended some Caitians there, looting the ruins."

Valtiri tensed. "Inform them of my arrival and land us, please."

*

It was his first time, touching the actual ground of another planet. It felt good.

Nyx soared high, remaining at least partially linked to him, letting him enjoy her eager thrust into the thin air with all its many scents, and her hunger to sample more of the many tiny edible creatures to be found here.

Valtiri strode out, observing the pile of rubble that was once a large residence, the burnt, smouldering remains of many trees and bushes... the residual scents of Ferasan bodies. Many bodies, shot, hacked, burned. They had obviously been removed days ago, but still, as he walked through the remains, he could mentally picture how the battle had unfolded: one Caitian male, fighting and defeating many Ferasans. It seemed the reputation that Captain Hrelle held had purchase...

With Runt remaining at the shuttle, Valtiri strode up to a pack of Ferasan soldiers, rifles and pistols in paw, surrounding several Caitian civilians near several large stacks of books, paintings, clothes, furniture, and other items obviously salvaged from the wreckage.

He could feel the aggression from the Ferasans, and the fear from the Caitians, even without his telepathy, and focused on the leader of the former, tapping into his mind for his name. "Pack Leader Warad-Elil of the Serpent River Pride: report."

The other Ferasan, clearly nonplussed at Valtiri somehow knowing his name, recovered quickly, looking as respectful as he could while still demonstrating his elevated status in front of the other males in his Pride. "Hunter Prime, we found these Caitian scum looting the rubble. We were taking them in for questioning as possible terrorists."

Valtiri glanced at the Caitians: a dozen males and females, some ancient, others no older than fourteen, seemingly led by a short, middle-aged female with shimmering stone-coloured fur and a bushy tail poking out from behind her sundress -- and with bruises around her right eye socket and blood on the side of her muzzle. The fear was thick on her... but also anger and defiance.

Valtiri looked to Warad-Elil. "Terrorists? Really, Pack Leader? My, they do appear formidable, all these retirees, cubs, teachers and merchants. You must have soiled yourselves in fear at the scent of them; my hearty congratulations to you on your triumph here." He ignored the indignant thoughts of the other Ferasan as Valtiri beckoned to the Caitian. "Come closer, please. You won't be hurt." After a pause, he clarified, "Again."

She drew up to him hesitantly, rubbing her paws together nervously. "What do you want with us?"

Warad-Elil growled. "We ask the questions here!"

"No, Pack Leader," Valtiri clarified. "I do." Then he focused fully on the female. "Who are you?"

She raised her muzzle to him. "Eshlinn Praow, a teacher at the local Cub's School. We all live in this district." She spared a glance at the Pack Leader. "And none of us are terrorists."

Valtiri nodded, sensing the truth in her words. He indicated the stacks of possessions. "And what are you doing with these?"

"Salvaging what we can on behalf of the Shall Clan, after you people destroyed their home, since they can't be here to do it themselves."

"Why?"

Praow blinked, nonplussed. "Excuse me?"

He looked past her to the others, speaking as much to them as to her. "You know that the Shalls, and especially the Hrelles associated within their clan, are wanted by my people. You risk arrest -- and worse -- by coming here and potentially being associated as allies. Why, Teacher?"

"Why? Because they're our neighbours! Our friends!" As the older Caitians behind her made sounds of agreement, she continued, incredulous at his apparent ignorance of their motivations. "Because they're decent people! Heroes, all of them! They would do the same for us!"

Valtiri turned to the stacks of possessions, kneeling and examining several items, sniffing at them. Having grown up in solitude, his infrequent forays into civilisation on Ferasa Prime never impressed him overmuch. Prides abounded, constantly making and breaking alliances, constantly vying for power and position and wealth... with none of the genuine cordiality, the amity, that the Caitians seemed to display. Such community, willing to band together for selfless purposes was with few exceptions alien to his people. "You've met the Hrelles, Teacher? Captain Esek Hrelle? His human offspring Sasha Hrelle?"

"No. I only know Captain Hrelle's cub Misha, and his grandfathers. I've never met his father or sister."

Her thoughts told him otherwise, but he said nothing, probing more subtly as he found a set of soft canvas bags, obviously packed for a quick escape, but left behind in the rush to get away. He opened one, found a Starfleet jacket in Command Red that smelled of Caitian male, taking it. "Are you sure, Teacher?"

"Yes." No no I won't say anything you won't get anything out of me you bastards-

Valtiri moved to the next bag, reaching deeper into Praow's mind and seeing images: memories of Captain and Lieutenant Hrelle visiting her school, speaking with the cubs, demonstrating their skills with a pair of black-bladed swords that could cut through duranium like it was water. "I have heard much about them, the father and daughter Starfleet soldiers. They are also members of a group of Caitian warriors known as the Kaetini. You wouldn't happen to know anything about them, would you, Teacher?"

"No." I hope they find out and cut off all your heads-

He found more clothes with a female Caitian scent, and then more with an unfamiliar racial odour; he had never met a human before, but the other items themselves confirmed it was Lt Hrelle's scent. Good, good.

He commandeered one of the bags and stuffed his acquired clothes into it, rising and facing Praow once more. "Please, Teacher, satisfy my curiosity by answering one more question. Captain Hrelle is older, fatter, but he has strength and great experience. Lieutenant Hrelle is younger, fitter, but she is a human, and female, and therefore weaker. Be honest with me, and I promise you will not be harmed. Which do you think will prove a greater challenge for me in combat?"

The female stared, frowning, and he sensed her hesitancy, afraid she was somehow being tricked into saying the wrong thing and being punished. Then he felt her shift, her resolve returning -- she was a brave thing indeed -- as she looked at him and replied, "I think... I think you underestimate either of them at your peril. They've both been trained by Starfleet, by the Kaetini, they've fought in space, against the Dominion and Cardassians and Klingons and other threats you can't even begin to imagine.

But if choosing one to fight is an issue for you, maybe you should just face both of them at together? If you have the courage, that is?"

Warad-Elil drew up and smacked her across her muzzle, nearly sending her sprawling. "Mind your manners, bitch!"

Valtiri drew in a breath, reining in his eagerness to depart in order to let the teacher to recover before continuing. "You and your neighbours can continue your work here, without interruption or interference; the Shall clan is fortunate to have you at their service. Pack Leader Warad-Elil, summon your males over to my shuttle, I have something to show them."

Valtiri turned and returned to the shuttle with the gathered clothes, throwing the bag to Runt, even as he reached up into the sky with his mind and called for Nyx. Runt looked to him. "We are leaving, Sire?"

"One moment, I have a final task to complete." Then he faced Warad-Elil and his males as they approached, making a semi-circle around Valtiri, out of view of the Caitians, the Pack Leader smiling. "Hunter Prime, what have you got to show us-"

He had no time to react as Valtiri rushed up and grabed the other Ferasan, pulling him in close enough to take him by the head and twist it fully around, breaking the neck with a sharp snap.

Around them, Warad-Elil's Pride members started, making gasps and other noises of shock and horror, jaws dropping, eyes wide and tails snapping in confusion and fear, but none actually doing anything more than that.

Valtiri continued to hold up Warad-Elil's body by the broken neck like a puppet, facing him towards the others. "I promised the Caitian that if she was honest with me, she would not be harmed. She fulfilled her side of the agreement."

He shook the corpse, as if it was a freshly-caught fish trying to escape his grasp. "This waste of fur, on the other paw, ensured I could not fulfil mine. He thought striking her for her insult to me might please me."

He let the body drop to the ground. "It didn't."

Valtiri flexed his fingers and claws as he looked to each of the fearful faces in turn. "Let the Caitians continue here unmolested. Leave this area. Immediately." He pointed to the body. "Take this garbage with you. And if your Pridemaster wishes to seek vengeance for the killing of your Pack Leader, have him contact the Occupation Headquarters and make an appointment for me to come and skin him alive."

Nyx swooped down and landed beside the body of Warad-Elil, her sharp beak stabbing at the lifeless eyes. He thought to her, Come, there is no time for that, Nyx.

As the bird obeyed, he followed her into the shuttle, where a stunned Runt was already sitting at the seat in the cockpit, his shock at what he had seen outside still affecting him. Please please please don't kill me don't hurt me I only I'm nothing but I'm not worth killing I promise you-

"Runt," Valtiri said softly.

The younger male jumped and turned to face him. "Sorry- I'm sorry- oh, fuck-"

Valtiri raised an open paw to cut him off. "Profanity is unnecessary. And unseemly."

"Sorry, Sire, please- please don't-"

"As I was starting to say, you do not need to fear me... Pilot."

"I- I-" He stopped, blinking. "P-Pilot? Forgive me, Sire, but I'm-"

"Yes, I know your Pridemaster and father and brothers call you Runt. It is not even a more appropriate pre-Naming designation for you like FifthSon. They call you Runt as a joke, a taunt, to belittle you because you are smaller than they... and because you do not share their cruelty, their bloodlust, or their thoroughly-undeserved airs of superiority. And in their minds, that constitutes weakness.

They are bullies. Be anything in this life. Be a liar, be a plunderer, be every shade a scoundrel. But do not be a bully. I cannot abide them; their very thoughts are execrable to me. Stay true to your own nature; the opinions of others as to your worth is of no consequence.

I Name you 'Pilot', for your service to me. Yes, I know that legally your Pridemaster is normally the only one to award you a Name... but there are some advantages to being the Patriarch's Hunter Prime. I will inform your Pride as to your Named status, and of the need to accord you with more respect... and of what will happen to them if they fail to take me seriously." He paused and added, "Assuming that change of appellation meets with your approval?"

The other male gasped at the sudden declaration... but quickly recovered with a smile. "Yes... yes it does, Sire! Thank you!"

Valtiri glanced at Nyx, who was nestling into her seat for a nap, as he took his own place. "Then, if you have regained your composure, please take us to the port city of Sekuro. The reports of the Hrelles there recently noted the presence of a member of the Kaetini Order in residence, though details were not forthcoming." He breathed in, his excitement rising. "The Hunt is Afoot."

*

Free Seas, Southern Hemisphere:

Captain Mrorr looked up from her PADD as she heard the alerts on the helijets, looking out of the cockpit window as they flew through an unseen perimeter, and the flat, empty plain of water seemingly shimmered, and a gargantuan black vessel appeared floating on the water.

An electric shudder ran through her, as it always did when entering or leaving the advanced cloaking shield surrounding the Caitian Assault Carrier Deep Keep, her ship, working on principles beyond cloaks she had worked with before, principles she could never quite comprehend. This advanced cloak not only affected the omnispectrum, but also phased levels of reality itself, making her feel like they were more ghosts than mortal.

She watched silently as they approached one of the open ports on the starboard side, her usual pride at seeing her ship form the outside eclipsed now with the changing situation... and what awaited her within.

She strode through the corridors and levels to the Bridge, taking in the activity in an instant... and then focusing on the one figure present who was staring directly at her. "Commander K'Row, if you'll follow me?"

She entered her Ready Room and immediately moved to the replicator. "Sriia Tea, Hot, Two Cups."

"None for me," her First Officer declared sharply.

She turned and glanced at him: the male was tall, middle-aged, with trimmed tawny fur and a rugged body beneath his red and black Planetary Navy uniform. His posture was as stiff as his tail. But she said nothing as the two cups still materialised into existence in the replicator alcove, and she lifted them both and set them onto her desk as she continued to regard him. "I was hoping that you might have heard some good news."

He grunted, his scent and expression taut with anger and grief. "Hope is for dreamers. No, Captain, our undercover operative in Illehull confirmed it from witnesses."

"Shen-"

"They killed my parents, my brother Tsan," he suddenly snapped, his voice breaking, his tail snapping against an adjacent shelf. "They took Tsan's wife, his daughters, away for their filthy experiments in one of their camps, Mother knows where."

Mrorr breathed in, her empathy for her colleague and friend's personal loss deep. And though she had heard so many similar stories from other members of her crew who had sought out their families on the mainland. "I'm sorry for your loss, Shen-"

"With respect, Captain, spare me your sympathies. When are we dealing with these murderous bastards?"

She tensed, straightening up to match his formal stance. "Soon. Very soon. I've seen the facilities Captain Hrelle is running; his intelligence-gathering resources are considerable. As I stated in my transmission, he is preparing a report for us that will allow us to strike at as many targets at once-"

"I remember what you said, Captain," K'Row declared. "We don't need any damn report from some Starfleet apologist! If they were all that eager to wage war, they would be here in force by now! We know where the Capitol Building is! We know where the so-called Master Governor resides! We can cut off the head of the enemy with a single missile!"

"Shen-"

"Why aren't we launching now?" he demanded, teeth bared.

Mrorr bristled, but refused to let her First Officer and friend control the conversation. "Commander... I understand your rage, and the rage felt by others onboard. Don't you think I want those Ferasan scum off the Motherworld?

But as much as I hate to admit it, Captain Hrelle had a point: once we reveal ourselves via an attack on the Capitol, the remaining forces will mobilise to track us down, and despite our arsenal and crew, they can overwhelm us. It's better for all of us to strike as many targets at once, eliminate not just the commanding infrastructure, but every Enemy military facility that we can.

All that Captain Hrelle is asking for is a couple of days. And I'm asking the same from you, and every other member of my crew... I wish I could spare you the time off to grieve-"

"No." K'Row drew in a sharp breath, letting it out more slowly, before continuing. "No, Captain. We need all hands on deck in the coming days to prepare... and it'd be better to immerse myself in my duties."

She nodded, grateful that she could count on him. "Thank you, Commander. Lieutenant Commander H'Nille should have a secure comlink established on Kaijushima by now. Make contact, then prepare a series of missile launch and helijets drills; when we get the report, I want to be able to strike without any further delay. Dismissed."

*

K'Row straightened up again, nodded and departed, ignoring those he passed as he returned to the Bridge, taking his station and preparing the protocols for the first of the drills, confident of their necessity.

At least, in fulfilling his own agenda. He had known Mrorr for many years, was as closer to her than he had been to anyone else who wasn't a relation; indeed, more than once, he had considered broaching the subject of taking their relationship to a physical level.

But now... now he had to accept that, for all her many strengths, in this instance, Csara was dead wrong. If she had lost family to the Rail-Tails the way he and other officers had done, she wouldn't be forcing his paw now.

K'Row considered his next course of action, then opened up a secure channel to Engineering, slipping in an earpiece. "Chief Bnol."