Surefoot 68: Three... Two... One...

Melem-Adu frowned. "Who keeps inviting this kussik to the meetings?"

*

TWO HOURS, FORTY-SIX MINUTES, EIGHTEEN SECONDS... SEVENTEEN... SIXTEEN...

Syshen Market Square, Tamera District, Port of Sekuro, Mnara Province:

Gamal Ashen stayed still beneath the canvas and recited a calming mantra in his mind as he listened to the Ferasan shuttle descend from the sky to land in the square, waiting until he knew they couldn't see him before emerging.

He signalled to the others in hiding to do the same, staying low but observant as they watched the shuttle's gull-wing doors opened on either side, and Ferasans emerged, wielding disruptor rifles, their Pack Leader ordering groups of them together.

Ashen looked to his left, as one of his comrades in rebellion, a young Constable, growled at the sight of the Enemy. Ashen caught his attention and raised a finger to his snout, remaining silent and urging the younger male to do the same. He understood their anger all too well, felt the same, but knew that they still had to stay calm, if they wanted to save their people, and themselves.

The Constable complied, demonstrating his respect for Ashen as the local Kaetini, leading the resistance efforts in Sekuro; the Constables were eager, but inexperienced, more accustomed to dealing with burglars and drunken sailors on shore leave than an armed military force.

Things had escalated since days before, when the Jem'Hadar had been here, looking for the Hrelles. But those aliens had since left, leaving the Rat-Tails to continue their hideous work here. But not anymore-

Something above them caught his eye, and Ashen glanced upwards to see a shadow swoop past quickly. But where they were, hidden in a storage alley between warehouses, they could barely see the sky, though much of the light had begun reflecting off the high, weather-beaten sandstone buildings around them.

He shook his head; he must have been imagining things. Eyes on the Prize, as his father used to tell him, so long ago. Of course, that had been a lifetime past, when Ashen had been younger than that Constable, learning the merchant trade from Papa. For Papa, the Prize had been some customer From Up North, looking to overspend on some local trinkets to take back home.

Many years had passed since then. In that time, Ashen had served in the Militia during the Third Ferasan War, in Demolitions and Counterterrorism, had earned medals and helped save their colony on Azure Aura... and had come to the attention of the Kaetini Order. They had sought him out, trained him... and then sent him back to what appeared to be an ordinary life.

And it had been, for many years afterwards, only occasionally bringing his sword and his status into public, whenever there were crimes and injustices too great to be handled by the local Constabulary.

Now the greatest crimes and injustices were being committed now, by their ancestral enemy.

But they would not go unchallenged.

"Mr Ashen," another Constable whispered, prompting.

He made a sound of acknowledgement, as he watched the Ferasan Pack Leader send each group down one alley, towards the apartment buildings. Their orders were known to Ashen: collect young, fertile-looking females and cubs from nearby, bring them back, pack them into the shuttle and send them off to the Camps... and kill anyone who got in their way.

But not today. Not in Ashen's city.

Another shadow caught his attention, and this time he looked up to see a huge bird, of a species he did not recognise, glide easily overhead, before orbiting slowly over the Square, as if seeing the shuttle as a rival to his domination of the sky... or here as an observer to the imminent engagement.

"What in the Seven Hells-" another muttered. "Where'd that come from?"

"Never mind," Ashen told her. They didn't have much time; the locals had already been prepared for this morning raid, having been moved out of their homes and into the adjacent warehouse... allowing Ashen and the Constables to boobytrap their front doors. And once the Rat-Tails started kicking them in-

Multiple unseen explosions from many directions made the Pack Leader and his Second, who had remained behind at the shuttle, start, raising their rifles and aiming in the direction of their comrades.

Ashen took his cue, signalling to the others to rise and charge towards the two remaining Ferasans, the Constables firing their Yaps, their nonlethal sonic pistols now reconfigured to work more effectively on the Enemy's inner ears.

Ashen chose to use his Kaetini sword, drawing out the black blade as he led the others forward, expecting the Ferasans to-

They turned at the sound of the Caitians' footfalls, immediately firing, though they were already affected by the sonic bursts, ruining their aim. One disruptor beam almost struck the Constable to Ashen's immediate left, but he managed to block it with his blade, the Arakanium alloy proving indestructible once again.

With decades of muscle memory, despite his age, Ashen moved to duck and swoop in to the Pack Leader who had fired in his direction, swinging up and down to take off the weapon arm of the Ferasan at the elbow, letting the weapon, and the forearm still holding onto it, drop to the floor of the Square. The Pack Leader staggered back in naked disbelief, staring at the stump that remained of his right arm, before his attention returned to his attacker, as Ashen impaled him in the centre of his chest.

Ashen's eyes met the Pack Leader's, as the latter dropped to his knees, collapsing backwards and sliding off Ashen's blade as he died, but then he focused on the second Ferasan, being struck repeatedly and needlessly by the Yaps from the Constables. "Enough of that! There'll be survivors-"

Almost on cue, there were staggered footfalls from heavy boots, and the Constables spread out in practised fashion, bringing down the remaining Ferasans who were stumbling back, injured from the traps set.

Ashen knelt and cleaned his blade on the uniform of the Pack Leader. "Strip them of their weapons and equipment, then load them up on the shuttle, we'll get it programmed to crash dive into-"

"STOP!"

All Caitians looked up to see a final Ferasan, bloodied and wounded but still standing... and crouching behind a Caitian cub, maybe eight or nine, someone who obviously had missed being moved out of the area. The muzzle of the Ferasan's disruptor pistol was jammed hard against the side of the terrified cub's head as the equally-terrified Ferasan looked around, gasping as he repeated, "Stop!" He shifted around, ensuring none of the Caitians could approach or shoot him from another angle. "You- All of you- you drop your- your weapons and- and surrender!"

Ashen's heart raced, and he lowered his sword as he looked to the Constables. "No one fire! Take no action!" Then he focused on the Ferasan, making no aggressive moves towards him, adopting a calming tone. "It's okay, lad, no one's going to hurt you-"

"LIES! S-SURRENDER, OR I'LL KILL HIM! I MEAN IT! I MEAN-"

Before he could finished his panicked threat, there was a sound from the rooftops, and immediately the Ferasan's head jutted backwards, a large hole appearing in the front of his skull, as the wall behind him was instantly splattered with ruby-black blood, brains and grey fragments of skull.

Ashen launched himself towards the cub, scooping him up and away from the body and the bloody mess left by- who? None of the Constables with him had a weapon that could do that. He dove behind the shuttle, shouting to the other Caitians, "TAKE COVER!"

Unseen, one of the Constables asked, "What- What happened?"

He wasn't sure, but he knew that it had come from above, and he glanced around... seeing that bird again, perched on the edge of one roof, staring down at them meaningfully. "Someone has a high-velocity ballistic rifle, on one of the surrounding rooftops! They might be on our side, or they might not! Get ready-"

No.

Ashen paused, glancing around. That deep male voice- where did it come from- He started to call out-

Say nothing aloud, Gamal Ashen.

"Mr Ashen, what should we do?" one of the Constables asked.

Ashen froze, glancing down at the cub, who had obviously heard nothing. But the voice was definitely there, so close it could be from a bug in his ear-

I am no bug, Mr Ashen. I am projecting my thoughts into your mind. Proceed with your operation, pass the cub to your comrades, and then meet me alone. I will await you on the roof of a building with a water tower two streets south from where you are now. Tell no one about me or where you're going. If you fail to comply with my instructions, I will begin killing the Constables the way I did the Ferasan coward who threatened that cub now in your arms.

Ashen stared ahead, his hear racing. Projecting thoughts... telepathy? He had read about some races out in the Galaxy who were mind readers, but he never imagined experiencing it himself-

You haven't much time; the Pack's superiors will be expecting an update soon.

He started again. His unseen telepathic voyeur, whoever he was, was correct. He rose, taking the cub by the paw. "All right, let's move!"

"What about the sniper?"

"Never mind him. Get those bodies onboard! Lushik! Get into the cockpit, program its death flight into the Sea of Rhun! Tono, get this cub back to his family, and check for any injured civilians down the streets!"

"Where are you going, Mr Ashen?"

He barely glanced at the Constables, as he stared up at the surrounding rooftops... seeing that strange bird again, staring back boldly.

No, it couldn't have been the sniper. "Something's come up, Lushik. Proceed with everything as planned."

*

TWO HOURS, FIFTEEN MINUTES, FORTY-TWO SECONDS... FORTY-ONE... FORTY...

Lnoro Gesh University Dormitory, Shanos Minor, Nashea Province:

Mreia Furore loved her own bed. It had been an expensive, indulgent purchase six years before to celebrate her last promotion, and after that first night of exquisite, sublime bliss from its holistic impeller modules and delta-wave harmonisers, she never regretted it. It even made up for the relative scarcity of partners to share it with since her divorce.

The cot she now lay in was not her bed. Seven Hells, the crate that her bed at home had come in would probably be more comfortable.

Still, she slept, despite the cot, despite the rationed meals available to them since Shanos Minor had been cut off from the outside world... and despite the fears that, at any time, the Ferasans would locate and take them both away to an uncertain fate.

But something shook her awake now, and she lay there in the dark, not wanting to stir the others sleeping in the room, fellow refugees in their own city but listed on the records as students from other parts of Cait, all on staggered sleep patterns depending upon where they came from and how long they had been there. Instead she scented and listened for Shau, who should have been sleeping beside her.

She reached out and found his cot empty.

Mreia bolted up, easing herself out of her own cot and striding to the door, not caring if anyone else was awakened. The original excuses of the Metremia Threat and the Security Measures were no longer even held up as a facade by the Enemy... especially after Mi'Tree Shall's broadcast of the truth had reached across the planet. Now it was simply the Ferasans coming and taking what they want, leaving the Caitians to keep their tails down and hope not attract attention, or to fight, or to run.

Mreia was up for running. She didn't have a violent, aggressive bone in her body, couldn't stomach the very notion of harming others, no matter the provocation, which was one of the reasons her marriage with Jhess had fallen apart after he joined the Militia and became a Sabrecat. And no doubt her association with him, and her own initial vocal opposition to the Occupation, would inevitably doom her... especially if she was still fertile, and judged fit for the Ferasans' vile purposes.

The people she had met, who had arranged for Shau and her to pack up their most valued possessions and escape capture, had promised to get them smuggled out of Shanos Minor tonight or tomorrow, but didn't go into much more detail than that. It maddened and saddened her, this uncertainty, not just about their own lives, but the lives of everyone else around them.

They were sequestered in the dormitory of Shau's college; the corridor was quiet, with many having gone home before the Lockdown, but there were sounds from the common room nearby, and Mreia made her way there, her anxiety about leaving her son out of sight until they were safe making her tail twitch.

There was a scent of alcohol, snacks and snuff, all suffused with the heady musk of adolescents in Season, illustrated by the young cubs paired up on the couches and settees, pawing and nuzzling each other, illuminated by a Vivid screen in the corner broadcasting some music program.

Then Mreia spotted Shau in the far corner, half on top of his girlfriend Noma, his tongue licking her ear and his paw under her top. "SHAU!"

The collection of cubs jolted as if electrocuted, some almost falling off their perches in their scramble to get to their feet, though Mreia remained fixed on her son, who was straightening out his clothes, eyes wide with shock and humiliation. "Mom! Seven Hells-"

"Do you think this is some holiday we're on, Mister?" She looked around them. "Do any of you? You're all in here, drinking and sniffing and slobbering over each other and having a good time, when the Ferasans could show up at our door and take us all to one of their camps? Come with me, this instant!"

She barely kept in control as he reluctantly complied, wincing as she grabbed him by the scruff of his leather jacket and led him away, not back towards the bunk rooms but the kitchens, where the smell of breakfast continued. He tried to shake off his mother's hold. "Mother's Cubs, Mom, did you have to embarrass me in front of Noma and all my friends like that?"

Now she faced him, holding him by his upper arms as if he might try to escape, feeling her own anxiety threatening to burst from her. "I don't give a damn if I've embarrassed you or not! Do you understand the danger you, all of us, are under? We're in the midst of a nightmare! Thanks to our association with your father, we've become targets of the Occupational Government!"

Even as she said it, she regretted it, for the reaction on Shau's face... and calmed herself down, though anger still laced her subsequent scolding. "You don't have time to be fooling around with her! We could be leaving the city at any time!"

His bronze eyes widened. "We can't go before the next protest today!"

Her jaw dropped, aghast. "You don't think you're going out with your friends again, do you?"

Now Shau's expression mirrored hers. "We have to! If we don't, they'll think they've won!"

"They have won! They're in control! All we can do now is stay alive until-"

"Until when, Mom?" He straightened up, taking on a maturity she had only ever seen in him once or twice before. "You told me once that those who don't raise a voice to injustice become a part of it. That's what we're doing here. I thought you of all people would understand that."

Despite herself, and the anxieties twisting her insides like she was on some amusement park gravity ride, Mreia couldn't help but feel pride for her son, knowing what a strong, principled male he'd become when he grew up.

If he grew up. "Shau... as much as I admire your tenacity, as your mother I have to think about your safety first. We can't stay in Shanos Minor. We barely escaped being taken by the Ferasans from our apartment.

I'm not saying we don't respond to injustice. I'm saying we do it from a place of safety. You're not going to the demonstration. Is that understood?"

Shau looked ready to protest further... but then seemed to deflate before her. "Yes."

She didn't need her nose to smell how resentful he was, as she guided him back to the bunk room. She didn't care if he ended up hating her.

As long as it was a long and healthy hate.

*

TWO HOURS, NINE MINUTES, FIFTY-NINE SECONDS... FIFTY-EIGHT... FIFTY-SEVEN...

Silvercup Studios, Port of Sekuro, Mnara Province:

Ashen had instantly recognised the building from the Voice's description, and gained access to the interior, climbing the stairs to the roof -- checking and rechecking the plasma pistol at his side, sitting next to the scabbard holding his sword, his heart racing from more than the exertion of ascension. A thousand possibilities as to what he would find up there crossed his mind.

He knew that he was walking into certain danger, and considered returning to his home, contacting his fellow Kaetini and warning them of the telepathic entity... but guessed that such a tactic would be detected. Whoever this was, he could be reading his mind now, awaiting treachery -- and Ashen couldn't afford to risk the lives of the people in his care.

The sky remained a rose pink of morning, and the sun stayed hidden behind a bank of clouds in the south-eastern horizon, but Ashen kept his back to it as he emerged onto the rooftop, momentarily distracted by the sight of the Ferasan shuttle from the Square, launching itself into the sky, presumably with the dead or unconscious bodies of the Ferasan Pack to meet a watery end thousands of kilospans away-

"Thank you."

Ashen's attention returned to the other side of the roof, dominated by a huge round metal water drum sitting on several fat legs, as from behind one of the legs emerged -- Mother's Cubs! -- one of the largest males Ashen had ever seen: a Ferasan with blonde fur and gleaming sabreteeth, dressed from neck to foot in generic black, but lacking any Ferasan Pride markings or uniform insignia.

He carried a long black scoped rifle in one paw, aimed downwards, and a heavy-looking swirl of thick, dirty canvas sail. He regarded Ashen as he spoke aloud, his voice deep and gravelly. "Thank you for coming, Mr Ashen. I knew you would, but... thank you, just the same. You have spared many Caitian lives in complying with my invitation."

Ashen's free paw rested on the hilt of the sword at his side, as the strange-looking bird from before, perched nearby on a roof railing, fluttered its huge, black-tipped wings. "You... You have the advantage of me, Sir."

The Ferasan nodded, showing none of the typical arrogance or contempt of his people. "My sincere apologies. My name is Valtiri, the Hunter Prime to the Patriarch of our Fatherworld." He bowed slightly, and then indicated the huge bird. "This is Nyx, a Ferasan dragonhawk; I rescued her as a chick when her nest was attacked by a Husco Snake. Please, say hello to my little friend."

The bird made a hissing sound at Ashen.

"Hello." Ashen made a show of loosening the sleeves and belts on his robes, making it appear casual instead of a deliberate move to prepare himself to fight, as he focused on Valtiri. "I want to thank you for saving the cub's life in the Square below- but still, what if you had accidentally hit him? Or if the Ferasan had been bluffing-"

Valtiri shook his head. "The cub was never in any danger, not from me; I always hit what I aim at. Always. And I heard the thoughts of the coward who threatened his life. His panic-driven intent was clear, and imminent."

Ashen frowned; what kind of Ferasan would be willing to shoot one of his own people just to save a Caitian? "I didn't know Ferasans were telepathic."

"We are rare," he admitted soberly.... still approaching slowly. "Few of us survive into adulthood, either because we are aborted as Defective, or we are driven mad from the stress. I was fortunate to have been found and raised properly from an early age."