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

"I wish we were going with him," Sasha muttered.

"We'd only slow him down; I couldn't move that fast if Weynik lit my tail on fire. Again." He motioned her to follow him down the slope back to the flyer. "He'll manage. We do amazing things when our families are under threat." He paused, before venturing with, "And how are you doing? I heard you had a swim with Doc Wheelie."

"Who told you that?"

"He did."

She grunted, tensing. "Really? So much for medical confidentiality."

"He didn't say anything about what you two might have talked about. He did joke that you flirted with him." After a pause, he asked, "It was a joke, wasn't it?"

"Of course; I'd never mess around with someone who was married. So, what's it like being a Grandpa? Feeling old and decrepit now?"

He smiled. "Feeling new and invigorated, actually; I've been looking forward to it."

"Really?"

"Seven Hells, yes! It's an opportunity to explore a new side of myself. Like the old saying goes: 'It's the divine duty of parents to be responsible, but the divine privilege of grandparents to be irresponsible'." He chuckled. "I hope to infuriate Grandma Jnill over the gauche presents I'll be bringing Baby Jnill." Then he sensed her change of mood, reached out and took her by the hand, stopping her in her tracks. "What's wrong?"

She was frowning at the ground, more to avoid eye contact with him than anything else. "I hope you're not expecting me to start popping out grandcubs for you any time soon."

"What? No! Why would-"

"Because I have plans, and they don't involve children! Not now, maybe not ever!"

"Sasha," He took both her hands in his huge paws now, until she met his loving gaze. "You're under absolutely no obligation whatsoever, to anyone at anytime, to produce children. In fact, I agree with you, you should focus on your career, it's not like you live in primitive times where you only have a narrow window of fertility. It's entirely your decision, you can do whatever you like."

"Oh, thank you, Bubulah, for granting me autonomy over my own body." Her tone was sarcastic, but there was some relief in her scent and expression. "And you'd better believe that if I do decide to get pregnant, it will be after much careful consideration, a long, long time from now."

"Absolutely."

She pulled out of his hold and continued down, where Mori had stopped by the flyer and was chugging down some water from a bottle, and announced loudly, "Hey, Stud, you wanna have a cub with me?"

Mori did a spit take, choking.

She guffawed until she snorted as she entered the flyer.

Hrelle chuckled... then was distracted by the sight of a large bird overhead, its species one he didn't recognise, its wide wingspan giving it a sleek, streamlined silhouette in a sky of puffy clouds as it circled overhead.

*

ONE HOUR, TWENTY-EIGHT MINUTES, THIRTY SECONDS... TWENTY-NINE... TWENTY-EIGHT...

Mroara-Lnee Industries, Deepmere Annex, Hsova Province:

Ubar-Sin held the long black metal bar in one paw, raising it up high like a sceptre to the elderly, fearful Caitian male trembling before him. "This is a warp nacelle catwalk secondary support strut. It's made of cast rodinium: one of the hardest, most durable alloys known."

He glared at the Caitian for a moment longer.

Then, with a snarl, he brought the bar down on the Caitian's head.

K'Misil, the Operations Manager for the company's current construction project, had managed to raise an arm to help take the brunt of the blow, yelping as the bar struck... and turned to dust and flakes, scattering onto the Caitian's workclothes and head, making him cough and sputter as he breathed in some of the metal fragments.

Ubar-Sin threw away what was left of the bar in his paw, turning to look out of the booth window at the huge, twin-nacelled personnel transport ship sitting on the assembly ground, with construction drones and workers milling around and over it like scavengers around the corpse of a mighty beast. "And all it takes to reduce one of the hardest, most durable alloys known to dust is an infection from a microbe too small to be seen or smelled."

K'Misil recovered as best he could, remaining deferential to the Ferasan who had been overseeing the assembly of the transport ship outside, and all the others at all the company's construction yards around Cait. Not that he thought it would save him, given the steady erosion of the Pridemaster's patience, as more and more problems surfaced: with the ships, the frameworks, the systems and the thousand other elements and factors necessary to successfully complete a project as massive as this. "Sire, Shiprot is a ubiquitous problem throughout the Quadrant, and not just on Cait."

Ubar-Sin turned back to face him, snarling, his sabreteeth grinding against the sides of his muzzle. "You should have precautions against infection! What kind of fools are you?"

"We have precautions, Sire... but they're only as good as the conditions under which we apply them. Or not: we're missing diagnostic platforms, and more importantly, qualified personnel to operate them, because they've either been diverted to more urgent tasks, or they've... disappeared."

"EXCUSES!" the Pridemaster bellowed. "That's all I've received from you miserable, lazy, woman-worshipping weaklings! Delays, shortages, malfunctions, computer viruses, accidents, thefts- and now this! You'll have to run deep scan and quarantine operations, replacing the parts infected with Shiprot!"

"Yes, Sire... though perhaps Luck will grace us with a smile, and the infection will not be too severe."

Ubar-Sin grunted, popping out the claws in his paws. "Luck? Luck on this misbegotten world is an ugly and bitter bitch! Do you really believe things will turn for the better for me?"

"I... couldn't say, Sire." In fact K'Misil could say... as so much of the Ferasans' bad luck has been at his paws, working under the direction of Jnill Mroar-Lnee, unable to refuse the Ferasans' demands for transport ships to take their Caitian captives back to their own world, but also unwilling to just blindly obey and let them get away with it.

And in the weeks since they had begun conducting this covert sabotage, K'Misil's initial reluctance to get involved in anything this risky had been eclipsed with a growing satisfaction at seeing this Rat-Tail writhe and gnash his teeth. "But I promise you, we will do our utmost to keep any further disruption to a minimum."

"Oh, I doubt that."

Both Caitian and Ferasan turned at the sound of the new voice at the open booth doorway, K'Misil frowning at the sight of Hrulish Mroara-Lnee, Jnill's scapegrace brother. The last he had heard, Jnill had banished him from all the grounds days ago. What was he doing here now?

Ubar-Sin snarled in the direction of the newcomer. "Oh, the Drunkard. Why aren't you back with your sister in the Head Office in Mrestir? Has she been foolish enough to grant you some small measure of responsibility here, or have you simply got lost while in your cups?"

The ash-furred Caitian male didn't look very inebriated, as he straightened up. "Neither, Pridemaster. I'm here to make you a very profitable offer."

The Ferasan bared his teeth. "I'm far too busy to bandy words with a miserable sot! Begone!"

"No."

K'Misil saw Ubar-Sin's hackles rise as he turned to the other Caitian. "What did you say to me, you wretch?"

But Hrulish stood up to him, sticking out his muzzle to the taller male. "I said No. And now I'm saying shut up and listen to me-"

Ubar-Sin's arm shot up, his paw clamping around Hrulish's throat as he leaned in and growled, "Make your last words memorable ones, Caitian..."

Hrulish gasped, struggled in the iron grip, but still forced the words out. "Okay... you're... being deceived... by Jnill..." He then pointed a trembling finger in K'Misil. "And by him..."

K'Misil took an involuntary step backwards, as the Ferasan released his hold on Hrulish's throat, and faced the older Caitian. "Deceived?"

"Yes." Hrulish recovered quickly; he even straightened the lapels and dusted off the sleeves of his jacket, as if he had merely stumbled on his way into the country club. "My treacherous sister has been in league with her Operations Manager here, along with others, to purposefully delay the completion of your transport ships."

K'Misil swallowed under Ubar-Sin's terrible, unrelenting scrutiny, as the latter took a step forward. "Is this true?"

K'Misil managed a weak shake of his head. "No, Sire. Ms Mrora-Lnee renounced all affiliation with her brother. This is his pathetic attempt to get revenge upon her. Everyone knows it!"

Ubar-Sin stepped closer, and K'Misil kept backing away until he felt his tail and rear end press against a table. The Ferasan drew in even closer, so slowly, until K'Misil felt the hot, mephitic breath on the side of his snout, as Ubar-Sin whispered, "I... don't... believe... you."

Then he drew back quickly, seemingly done with him, and facing Hrulish again. "Let me guess: you're telling me this in order to gain control of your clan's company, is that right?"

The Caitian straightened up even more. "Put me, a male, in charge, Pridemaster, and I promise you, you'll get your ships with no more delays, no more lies."

Ubar-Sin seemed to regard him.

K'Misil, meanwhile, was quite happy to remain in the background, quiet, forgotten. He had spent much of his lifetime being largely ignored by everyone around him: family, teachers, constables, supervisors... which suited him fine, as it allowed him to get away with so much, at least until Jnill had caught him and press-ganged him into performing sabotage.

And he would get away again, warn Jnill about her brother's treachery-

Then Ubar-Sin declared, "Alright, Drunkard: you'll have your chance. And if you fail me, you'll end up like him."

K'Misil looked up again.

He had just enough time to see Ubar-Sin drawing his disruptor pistol, aiming at K'Misil's head and firing, to realise who the 'him' was-

*

ONE HOUR, TWENTY-THREE MINUTES, FORTY-FOUR SECONDS... FORTY-THREE... FORTY-TWO...

Caitian Assault Carrier Deep Keep, Free Seas:

Commander Shen K'Row tried not to keep glancing over his shoulder, or let his tail smack against the wall of the narrow corridor he was marching. He had to act as normal as possible, despite being in the midst of doing something completely abnormal.

He didn't have time for this- where was she-

Chief Bnol strode up to him from the opposite end, her grey fur rising, her scent and expression grave. K'Row looked back, before opening the door to an adjacent battery room, entering and expecting her to follow. Their chief engineer complied, and he waited until the door slid shut behind before speaking. "What's wrong? We shouldn't be meeting like this, it'll raise suspicions."

"And rightly so. Shen... are you sure about this?"

K'Row bristled. "I've never been more sure! You can't be doubting what we're doing now!"

"And yet, I am. At best, this is Insubordination. At worst-"

"We're already at our worst now!" He bared his teeth in frustration. "The Ferasans are slaughtering us! Breeding with us! Plundering our world and our people! And the Captain's doing nothing about it! She's listening to those Starfleet cowards, telling her to just stand by and take no action!"

Bnol drew back. "You said that they're running Intelligence and Tactical reports, to maximise damage to the Enemy-"

"It's an excuse, that's all! If Starfleet was that vested in us, they would have arrived in force long before now! Maybe they've even sold us off to the Ferasans and the Dominion in some sort of deal, and they're holding us off as part of it!"

The Chief Engineer frowned. "That's- That's absurd!"

"Is it? We've heard the news reports over the past year! The losses they've suffered out there in the War! You think they wouldn't see us as just pawns to be sacrificed?" He drew in closer. "And if that doesn't sway you, consider this: in exposing ourselves the other day -- to save members of Starfleet, I might add -- we have become potential targets. The longer we wait before we take action, the bigger the chances that the Ferasans or the Jem'Hadar will finally discover us and strike first!"

Now he reached out and took her by the shoulders. "You and I have lost so much. So have many others. We need to do this! Strike at the heart of the Ferasans, take them out, and the rest'll scurry back to their world like the vermin they are!"

Bnol breathed in and out, staring back hard with ambivalent amber eyes. "Csara will never forgive us, Shen."

"I know." And his regret was genuine; Captain Mrorr was a fine CO, and a fine friend. And this would sever the years of friendship they had built up together. But he couldn't escape the images of his parents, his brother, dead on the front lawn of their home, with his brother's wife and cubs taken Mother Knows Where.

"We've served with her for years," Bnol continued. "Maybe if I speak to her-"

He shook his head. "No. Once she realises we've done so much already behind her back, there'll be no convincing her. Once action is taken, however, she'll have no choice but to bring the fight to the Rat-Tails, All Claws Out." He paused, before concluding, "Are you still with me?"

Bnol drew back. "I'll make the appropriate security bypasses myself; I won't involve anyone else in this. Give me another hour."

He nodded in gratitude. "I'll plan a launch drill for then, so as not to arouse suspicion. Thank you, Bnol."

But she shook her head, her agitation clear. "Don't thank me. Nothing good's going to come out of this.

Nothing."

*

ONE HOUR, TWENTY MINUTES, FIFTY-SEVEN SECONDS, FIFTY-SIX... FIFTY-FIVE...

Living Quarters, Rebel Facility, Kaijushima Island, Free Seas:

Standing on a box, Misha rose up further on his toes and informed his big brother, "That's right, Mirow, use the wipes... no, wipe towards the tail... yeah, you do good..."

Beside him at the table, leaning over his newborn daughter as he carefully cleaned and changed her nappy, Mirow bit back some laughter as he replied, "Thank you, Uncle Misha. I know you're a dab paw at all this changing business, so I appreciate your input."

Sitting nearby with the still-weary mother Ptera, Kami smiled too at the scene. "My second cub has been wonderful in learning how to take care of his little sister; I'm sure he'll be happy to mind Baby Jnill when he's a little older."

"I mind her now!" Misha declared. "I protect her!"

Ptera smiled as well. "I think your sister Sreen will be needing you around for a few years to come." She looked up at her husband. "Isn't Baby Jnill ready yet?"

"One moment, Wife of Mine," Mirow secured the nappy. "This is my first."

"But not your last," Kami assured him. "Far from it."

Misha nodded sagely. "Baby cubs poop and pee a lot. They stinky."

"I'll bear that in mind." With an exaggerated caution, he lifted up his tiny newborn daughter in both paws and brought her over to her mother, who accepted her, the half-sleeping infant purring as she smelled and felt Ptera's scent and fur. As she adjusted the cub, she looked to Kami. "Thank you again, Kam, for being here. Any more tips I should know in the coming weeks?"

The older female looked at the infant with loving bronze eyes. "When you're ready to feed her, tickle the base of her muzzle to get her to open up wide and have a deep latch on you, so she gets enough milk and doesn't leave your nipples damaged and sore, though you'll still need salve afterwards.

Remember to alternate what side she sleeps on when you put her in her crib, and to have some clawing mittens ready in the first few months to keep her from scratching herself in her sleep. You'll develop your own routines as to when you're active and not, but remember to keep it as consistent as you can, so she learns to anticipate what will come next."

Ptera nodded, staring down into her cub's eyes as they drooped shut. "Thank you. And I thank you on behalf of my mother." Now she looked up again. "Do you think she's okay? Do you think she got the message we sent?"

Kami smiled. "Yes, to both; the Syphers who prepared and sent the message confirmed she opened and read it, Mother knows how they managed that. And who knows? Maybe soon we can send another, or even arrange a two-way transmission?"

Mirow disposed of the used nappy and squatted down beside his wife and daughter. "That would be wonderful! And when all of this is finally over, we have to get both clans together."

"And," Ptera promised. "We'll help get the Shall Clanlands House rebuilt. Mother will assemble whatever resources and connections are necessary to get it done in record time."

"Thank you, my dear." The reminder of the destruction of the old house, the one she had grown up in, and everything lost within it, hit her again. Then she shook it off; those were just things, and she'd gladly give them all away, again and again, to have her loved ones safe and sound.

Then the announcement over the facility's intercom caught their attention. "Commander Hrelle, please report to the Command Bay."

Kami rose to her feet and unfurled her tail behind her. "Duty calls; you three get some rest, and I'll see you all for dinner later, and maybe by then Esek and Sasha will be back with Jhess and his family. Misha, return to the Crèche and be with your sister."

Her younger son harrumphed like his Grandpa Mi'Tree. "I wanna go up top again and play with Doc Wheelie!"

"No play, Uncle Misha. Get going."

Kami's positive mood dampened as she entered the Command Bay and noted the tension in the scents in the room. Lieutenant Commander Tshal (Retired) had been serving well in Esek's absence, having the experience and confidence to manage the disparate group of active and former Starfleet and Militia personnel and civilians they had gathered here.

But now it looked like he had his hands full, chiefly keeping apart Agent Nenjo, the last surviving member of the Mother's Claws, the Caitian Secret Service, and Lieutenant Commander H'Nille, Second Officer to Captain Mrorr of the Deep Keep, acting as liaison. He was in Nenjo's muzzle now, snarling, "You're stalling! Don't try and hide it!"

Nenjo, for her part, wasn't backing down. "Stalling? Why would I be stalling? You think I don't want the Rat-Tails off our world?"

"Who knows what your kind really want? Motherdamned spies never tell the truth! You could even be in league with the Ferasans!"

Nenjo hissed and bared her teeth. "Say that again, you kussik! I dare you!"

"Not another word, either of you!" Tshal ordered, looking at Kami with some relief. "Commander, apologies for disturbing you in your downtime, but-"

"No need to apologise, Lieutenant Commander; I'm clearly needed here. You two: take two steps away from each other." She blinked when no one responded, and added, "That wasn't a suggestion; I'll have confined whomever doesn't immediately comply with my orders, in three... two..."

They stepped back in unison, mirroring each other like it was some dance, making Kami smirk, before she suppressed it again. She focused on H'Nille. "Lieutenant Commander, Agent Nenjo has sacrificed more than you can ever know in the fight against the Ferasans, and you insult her, and all of us, in suggesting otherwise. An officer of your calibre should realise that, and respond appropriately."

H'Nille breathed in, bristling as he understood what she was asking of him. "My... apologies, Agent Nenjo."

The coal-furred female's tail still snapped behind her in anger, but grunted an acknowledgement.