Surefoot 70: Uproar

"USS Surefoot-A, Chief of Security's Personal Log, Stardate 57375.28, Lieutenant C'Rash Shall, Recording: We, and a task force made up of the Thirteen Fleet's most capable starships, are heading to the Caitian Sector to take on the rat-tailed Ferasans who have attacked my planet.

And about ****ing time."

*

Gymnasium/Training Room, Deck 3 Fore:

C'Rash stood before the assembled crew, her eyes always darting back to the chronometer on the wall, despite the sheer naked futility of it having any effect on their getting to where she wanted to go any sooner. They were still many, many hours away even at high warp, and repeatedly looking at the clock wouldn't have any effect on that. She may as well focus on the immediate task at hand.

The ebony-furred female cleared her throat, letting her tail, swishing impatiently behind her, to do all the fidgeting for her as she raised her voice to the group. "During what will inevitably be combat with the Ferasans in the Caitian sector, the possibility exists that, given their warrior ethos, some may board in order to seek personal combat. Because of this, Captain T'Varik has asked me to go through a few moves you might need if you come face to face with one. But first, let's warm up. Standard Routine, on my mark."

She adopted a pose copied by those facing her, letting her body work on muscle memory of a thousand previous warm-up sessions, while her eyes, ears and nose scanned the group who copied her, studying them, getting a sense of which of them would actually be useful in a fight, which had potential, and which would be as useless as a toothless fur comb.

Not that she was genuinely critical -- they might have all received at least the minimum of training in unarmed combat, but not everyone could be natural fighters, nor should they expected to be -- but in her role, C'Rash needed to know who she could count on outside of her own Security team if things got tasty.

Many of them she knew and trusted already: veterans like Nurse Eydiir Daughter-of-Kaas, Giles Arrington, Engineering Petty Officer Arid Maf. And the younger, former cadets like Zir Dassene, Peter Boone and Tori Emoto, who had been bloodied by the Cardassians and Jem'Hadar in the Battle of Khavak, were dependable too.

It was these new recruits she was wary of. With Starfleet Academy temporarily stopping any further cadets working and studying in space, and with Starfleet Enlisted Training time cut in half to get more replacements for those fallen in battle, beggars couldn't afford to be choosers with regards to who was assigned.

Not that these six were all bad. Yes, the humans Valentine Dellaport and Alison Pagan seemed soft, with Dellaport further hampered by some stick up his ass about anyone not Terran, and the Aquan female Hylore Waro moved like she was afraid she would accidentally puncture the environmental suit she constantly wore, and that all the water she carried within would leak out.

But the grey-skinned Malurian female Malala Jain, though small, was fast and enthusiastic enough and a quick learner, and Kevin O'Reilly, the Gorn male raised from a hatchling by human foster parents -- Mother's Cubs, she never expected to meet a Gorn named Kevin -- looked strong and tough, but his actual demeanour was far more easy-going and pacific than one might expect from initial impressions.

And as for the Paladel male, Gyver Timbrel, a black-skinned, black-maned, long-muzzled equinoid, whose race joined the Federation quicker than C'Rash changed underwear? If anything, he was the opposite of Kevin: beneath his unassuming mien lay an obvious level of combat training that, for whatever personal reasons, he chose to keep to himself. Keep your secrets, Mr Timbrel. I have better things to worry about.

She twisted her neck around to work out the cricks as she reached for the holopad controls. "Now, onto the Ferasans themselves." She conjured a holographic image of a grey-furred Ferasan male in body armour on the adjacent holopad, letting her jaw tighten at the sight of him, despite having created the image herself and tested it numerous times. "For those not in the know, Caitians originally came from Ferasa, but a faction fled when a group of Ferasans genetically Augmented themselves and took over, instituting a brutal eugenics program.

And as you can see, in comparison to myself and other Caitians he's taller, with superior strength and speed, and in addition to claws they sport sabreteeth and a thinner, furless tail. If you just accept the word of their propaganda machine, they are invincible. Well, if you believe that, check out my page on the ship's Message Board, I'm selling Starbase One... all reasonable offers considered."

As titters ran through the group, she drew closer to the hologram, pointing here and there as she orbited slowly around it. "But they're not. With their concentrated musculature comes liabilities: decreased flexibility around the neck and shoulders, and nerve clusters on the outer ends of the knees and elbows. In addition, their heightened sense acuity can be used against them: high-pitched noise, flashbeams-"

From the group, one of the Support Crew -- the human male Dellaport -- muttered, "Ball of string?"

C'Rash spun in place and stormed right up to him, teeth and claws bared, tail snapping behind her as she got into his face. He was a typically young, slim, pale-skinned narrow-jawed cub with truculent tawny hair... and his scent was now tinted with shock as she hissed, "Say that again."

He trembled in place, swallowing as he stammered, "M-Ma'am?"

"Say that to my face, Crewman. Go on. I dare you."

From the corners of her eyes, she saw the crewman flanking either side of him shift, ever so slightly, away from him. Dellaport swallowed again, wanting to look away but unable to. "I-I didn't-"

"Yes you did, you lying little kussik," she growled, nostrils flaring, feeling her rage boil up, and for once doing nothing to put a lid on it. "The Rat-tails are slaughtering my people in the hundreds of thousands! You think it's a joke, do you? Do you? You think-"

"Lieutenant?"

C'Rash's head snapped up as she watched Giles Arrington step forward. "What?"

The human, who was just a few years older than Dellaport but light years ahead of him in maturity, faced her. "I was just recalling the time a few years back when Eydiir, Kit and I had fought a Ferasan Pride on one of their own ships in order to rescue Captain Hrelle. I thought perhaps we could put in our own two credits' worth on the subject?"

And give me a chance to calm down, C'Rash told herself, and not face a court martial for chewing out a subordinate. Literally. Thanks, Cub. "Good idea, Mr Arrington. Maybe you, Kit and Nurse Eydiir can demonstrate some of those moves on a live rather than a holographic opponent? Do we have any volunteers?" She nodded to Dellaport. "You, Crewman? Well done."

She indulged in a heartbeat of satisfaction at the young crewman's reaction, before her combadge chirped, and T'Varik's voice requested, "Lt Shall, please report to the Captain's Ready Room."

She smacked her combadge. "I'm on my way."

*

C'Rash caught the scent of the others in the room -- Commander Murphy, Lt Bellator, the young Caitian Petty Officer C'Ria Ctuuri -- almost as quickly saw it matched what she found in their faces. Especially Ctuuri; the cub looked as if he had been flung off a precipice.

Her spouse T'Varik, sitting behind her desk, rose to her feet and looked to the others, her voice low, and laced with emotion. "Thank you. If you could leave us, please?"

The three officers rose as well, filing out of the side door onto the Bridge. T'Varik walked around to draw closer; C'Rash opened up her senses, trying to tap into the psychic marital rapport they shared... only to find the Vulcan had raised her mental shields, something which to C'Rash usually indicated her partner making an extra effort to regain emotional balance. "What's happened?"

T'Varik breathed in, her skin flushed. "We intercepted a coded transmission from the Caitian system to Ferasa: an update from Melem-Adu, the Pridemaster placed in charge of the Occupation. Lt Bellator successfully decrypted it and confirmed the authenticity of the visual recording included with it.

In retaliation for an attempted missile attack on the Capitol Building in First City, the Ferasans detonated a nuclear device in the city of Shanos Minor. The... explosive yield of the device was enough to sweep through the metropolitan area. It is estimated that 3.2 million Caitians resident in the city were killed."

C'Rash blinked, waiting. Waiting to be told that it was all some ghastly error. Waiting to learn it was just some terrible attempt at a joke by her Beloved. Waiting for the tell-tale signs that this was all some nightmare. Waiting for anything.

No escape was forthcoming. "They- They destroyed a city?"

T'Varik stepped closer, and then C'Rash could feel the Vulcan open up her mind, and refresh their link, even as the news overwhelmed her. The Ferasans used a nuclear bomb on Cait? They wiped out a whole city of innocent males, females? Cubs? It was... it was too much... too much to take in...

Beloved... let me in... let me calm you...

C'Rash snapped back. "NO! I don't want you to calm me!"

The Vulcan reached out. "It's okay-"

"NO IT'S NOT!" She spun around, picked up a chair and flung it against the wall, watching it strike and drop to the carpet, tumbling away. Claws extended, she paced around, as if looking for something to kill. "It's not okay! Millions of my people are dead! Wiped out by some horrible weapon! And if we hadn't been wasting our time and resources around Betazed all these months, then maybe we could have helped my world before the Rat-tails killed everyone in Shanos Minor! And all the others before them!"

She stopped, facing her spouse, eyes wide, breath quickened. "How- How in the Seven Hells can I -- how can any of us? -- face my people now? How can we justify not coming sooner?"

T'Varik regarded her. "C'Rash... I could keep reminding you of our strategic priorities and limited resources, of our obligation to follow orders and our wider responsibilities to the Federation... but I fear that will be of little comfort to the Caitian people. It is certainly of little comfort to us. And no amount of attempted justification, to ourselves or to others, will assuage that guilt."

C'Rash felt the tears of shock, of grief and guilt and anguish, stream down unchecked on either side of her muzzle. "We- We should have known-"

"We could never have known," T'Varik told her gently, finally embracing her, body and mind, her voice a whisper. "We are not omniscient. But we are on our way now, to end this, once and for all."

The Caitian felt the emotion haemorrhage from her, felt her beloved hold her together, body and mind.

Please: Esek, Kami, Sasha, Misha, Sreen, all of you... please still be alive.

She wasn't sure if that thought was hers, or T'Varik's, or if it even mattered at this point.

*

Capitol Building, First City, M'Mirl Province:

Master Governor Melem-Adu ignored the pain. He ignored the smell of his own burned flesh. He ignored the bleating of subordinates around him. He ignored everything but the image of his son, his last surviving son, lying on a biobed wrapped in regenerative gauze, looking like some mummified figure.

Nusum-Adu had taken the brunt of the Caitians' cowardly attack in the Command Centre, had suffered horrible burns. But he would survive. He was Melem-Adu's offspring. He was strong. He was young and he was strong. And someday he would succeed his father, and rule over this new colony of the Patriarchy.

And he would make these Caitian scum pay. In blood-

"Master Governor?" It was Bikku-Lum, his Pride's Chief Physician, a grey-furred bag of bones that Melem-Adu never gave two shits about... until now. "We should see to your wounds as well-"

"Later. When will you get my son back on his feet?"

Bikku-Lim blanched. "Master Governor- his injuries- they're extensive- I must be honest, his chances of survival are slim-"

Melem-Adu shot a paw out, clasping around the older male's throat, slamming him into the nearest wall as he spat, "If he dies, I promise you and your sons will follow. Slowly, and very, very painfully." He released his grip, letting his own pain galvanise him as he added, "I trust you'll take what I say seriously."

He turned and departed, never looking back, needing to return to the thick of it and re-establish his dominance. If the other Pridemasters thought that he become weak, lost control, then they would quickly jockey to try and take over... and then what little command they had of Cait would fall apart.

He triggered startled looks from those who remained in the Operations Room cleaning up from the attack; the blood of the three Caitian terrorists still stained the floor and the air. But he ignored them to focus on the aliens in the room: the Vorta Welros and his Jem'Hadar guards, the former standing there with his default simpering expression. "Your men shot down the Caitian scum who assaulted us. Thank you for your assistance. You may leave now."

Welros held out his hands generously. "We were happy to have offered some small service to you, Master Governor... but are you sure our leaving would be wise? Your own security protocols here do not seem up to the task of protecting you or your offspring."

The Ferasan bared his teeth, feeling his burnt skin tighten from the effort. Soon, very soon, you and your mass-bred militia will be on my dinner table, filling my belly. "Watch and learn, then." He turned to face his hesitant kin, pointing to one. "You! Har-User, my brother's second son! You are my son's Chief Aide; you will serve me directly now."

The young slate-furred male drew up formally. "Sire, all our thoughts are directed to the swift recovery of Nusum-Adu and his return to-"

"Your thoughts should be directed towards the success of our work here!" Melem-Adu spat. "I want the building cleared of all Caitians and I want the entrances sealed! We will transport in Ferasans as auxiliary staff from the Dominus Prideships and wherever else they can be spared! And order a planet-wide curfew, effective immediately! All businesses are to be shut down except those serving our needs! Any Caitian outside and not on official business will be subject to summary execution!"

Har-User blanched. "Sire... how will... how will the Caitians obtain food? Seek medical attention when required-"

"That is something they should have thought about before defying my will! And when you're done with all that, contact Pridemaster Tasak-Sil of the Steel Crown Pride. We will need more of what they have already supplied us. Many more."

The younger male began to question that, until Melem-Adu saw the comprehension on his expression.

The Steel Crown Pride, master engineers, built the nuclear device that destroyed Shanos Minor.

*

Command Bay, Kaijushima Island, Free Seas:

Hrelle looked up at several screens displaying images from around Cait: Captain Mrorr on the Deep Keep, Mistress Nvell from the Kaetinis' current base of operations, wherever that was; the computer-cloaked image of the leader of the cyberterrorist Syphers, who until now had been content to work strictly through Nvell or Nenjo; and Sasha and Captain Biggles, still on the Tailless but almost at the Skycats' Aerodrome at Pakui.

Hrelle put on his best Command Face, leaving behind all lingering doubt and apprehension about his suitability for the role to lead their people, their planet, out of Occupation. The time for hesitation and uncertainty had passed.

He stood in the centre of the Bay, facing them, but speaking as much to the people around him. "Thank you all for attending, and your continued efforts in this War. The news about Shanos Minor has struck all of us, and I promise you, we will mourn the dead, and attend to the living.

But not now. If we do not act now, there will surely be more cities that will suffer the same fate.

So, let me brief you on Operation: Uproar..." At a nod to Nenjo, sitting nearby, a global holomap appeared on all their screens, with animations as Hrelle continued to address them. "Here is a tactical overview of the Occupation Forces on Cait.

We have Ferasan Slithus-class Warships, which took out the Planetary Navy, and the larger Dominus-class Prideships, which serve as mobile bases for the Prides, carrying their supplies... along with the metreon bombs which destroyed our planetside Militia bases. In addition, there are the Jem'Hadar Scarab attack ships, though these have kept their involvement in the Occupation to a minimum."

The holomap zoomed in on the Western Hemisphere, where dots popped up in small clusters. "The Ferasans have also set up ground base installations chiefly in the more temperate areas of the Hria, Mrell and Bahru Provinces; these spots are heavily armed, fortified, with facilities for billeting, supply, repair and maintenance of their ground and air vehicles, all of them equipped with weaponry that can overcome any civilian weapons we have left on Cait."

The holomap shifted to the Eastern Hemisphere, with its own clusters of dots. "Meanwhile, the Ferasans have chosen to build their prisoner and experimentation camps in the more remote, less-habited regions of the Ravath, Nashea and Halase Provinces. In contrast to the Ferasan military bases, the majority of Ferasans here are medical and research staff, relying on their isolated locations to maintain security.

In addition, the Ferasans set up their Global Transporter Network, allowing them to move large numbers of their people and equipment to any point on Cait, either to provide reinforcements or evacuation. And everything is controlled and monitored at the Capitol Building in First City by the Master Governor and his staff, who have erected shields and have instituted a lockdown of the facilities. It is because of these that they have held dominion over us.

That dominion ends today." He looked up at the first screen. "Captain Mrorr: what is your current status?"

The female Caitian looked to have aged a decade since he last saw her. "We running underwater, moving eastward through the trenches; we're currently in the Strait of Grieve, 420 leagues west by southeast of Shanos Major." She paused, swallowing. "Captain, I can assure you that my First Officer and Chief Engineer acted of their own volition in the attempted attack on the Capitol-"

"I believe you, Captain Mrorr," Hrelle interrupted her hurriedly. "But we need to move on. Speaking of which," He paused and tapped some commands into the station before him. "How long will it take you to get to the coordinates I've just sent you?"

She paused and glanced down. "At maximum safe velocity underwater, 5.5 hours. Why?"

"Please give the order to proceed with immediate effect, and I'll explain along the way. Mistress Nvell, what's the status of your Kaetini operatives?"

On the second screen, the elderly female leaned back in her chair. "We've lost contact with those who were in Shanos Minor, of course... but we remain connected with the rest of us around the world. Many want to know what they're going to do now... what we're going to do now."

"I know. And I'm going to tell you. And they're going to need the help of any local Constabulary, anyone really, willing to join them." He looked to distorted image on the third screen. "We haven't spoken before now. What can I call you?"

"Address me as Nimeni, Captain."

Hrelle grunted -- 'Nimeni', meaning 'Nobody' in Old Caitian -- as he continued. "Nimeni, Agent Nenjo has sent you all available intelligence on the Ferasan and Dominion networks. How successful have you been in accessing the respective infrastructures?"