Surefoot 70: Uproar

"Hey," Kami prompted him, drawing him into a tight embrace, rubbing the side of her muzzle against his. "You stay safe."

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him."

He felt her sigh, in that way that told him instantly that she thought he was off-course about something. Again. Her murmur in his ear confirmed this. "I told you, you don't have to worry about Valtiri."

Then Misha came up, leaping into his father's arms. "I come with you, Papa! I fight the Fearies!"

Hrelle hugged his son tightly. "Thanks, Warrior Prince, but we all have our orders. You've been assigned to protect the family here." Then he set him down again and embrace Bneea and Mi'Tree, the latter passing Sreen over to her mother to do so. "Watch the family."

The two older males nodded, Bneea adding, "Come back safe and soon, Kin-Son."

Hrelle nodded, motioning to Nenjo to escort Valtiri back. Hrelle sensed the tension rising within his family at the Ferasan's approach... the tension increasing as Kami deliberately strode up to the Hunter Prime, infant in her arms. "Please watch over my husband, Mr Valtiri."

He straightened up, keeping deliberately composed and non-threatening, clearly aware of the surrounding aggression. He didn't even try to wave away the insects buzzing around all of them. "I give you my word, Milady: I will protect his life over my own."

"I believe you," she declared, with deliberate clarity for the others. Then she held up Sreen. "Would you like to hold her for a moment?"

"What?" Mi'Tree started to protest and step forward, but Bneea took him by the elbow and held him back. Hrelle tensed, aware of what his wife was doing to further demonstrate her own trust in the Hunter Prime... but Hrelle was also aware of how his paw tightened around the hilt of the black Kaetini blade at his side.

Valtiri glanced at the males, before carefully accepting Sreen... who did not hiss or protest, as Hrelle had seen her do with threats in the past, but instead babbled up at him, pointing with her stubby finger, "Gabba dee capodo hawt feesh food Papa donnaboo!"

He gently cradled the tiny bundle, looking down at her, frowning slightly and nodding. "Yes. Yes, of course, I'll tell them." He looked up, handing Sreen back. "She doesn't have the words for it, but her memories are strong about what I believe is a spicy fish curry she had with her Papa when they were on a big boat recently. She is most demanding about having that again soon."

Kami looked down quizzically at her daughter, then at Hrelle, who explained, "On the Free Fleet fishing trawler we were hiding out on, we had pureed curried scybdils." At her reproving reaction, he clarified, "It wasn't that spicy, just a little alurica added. Maybe a bit of icregrass as well."

"Hmph."

Then Valtiri looked to Misha. "I know you."

Misha scowled up at him, arms crossed. "You Fearie! You bad man! You watch yourself, Mister, or Papa will beat you up!"

"Misha," Bneea warned, looking warily at the Ferasan.

But Valtiri nodded to Misha. "I will watch myself, Young Cub. I met your teacher in Mnara Province, Ms Praow. She hopes you'll come back to school when this is over and be one of her Student Helpers."

The mention of his teacher startled the cub, but Valtiri stepped back and looked to Kami once more. "My Pilot, down in your cells... I ask that you protect him until he faces whatever legal process you put in place for us."

"I assured you he'd be safe."

"Perhaps. But you haven't felt the anger of the people here."

"And do you blame them?" Mi'Tree demanded. "After all your misbegotten kind have done to us? You deserve everything you have coming to you!"

"Papa..." Kami cautioned.

The Hunter Prime drew up. "Condemn us for what we do, Mr Shall... not what we are."

"We have to go," Hrelle announced, needing to cut this off. "Zero Hour is almost upon us, and we have a schedule to keep."

*

Several levels below, a group of Caitian refugees were assembled in one of the meeting rooms, most of them connected, physically or emotionally, to Shanos Minor, trying to offer each other information, or at least comfort.

Mreia Furore sat with her son Shau, seeking both, and finding little of either. The city had been her home since she was a cub. Her friends and colleagues at the law firm, her neighbours in the apartment building, her clients, her opponents in court, the couple who ran the corner coffee shop she always visited on her way to work, her doctor, the lazy bastard engineer who delayed fixing her home replicator until she threatened legal action, the plethora of strangers who filled in the spaces in the sea of lives in their city and who she now would never know.

Like everyone else here, she was still coming to terms with what happened... especially her son, who still acted as if he was sedated from when his father rescued them both, literally moments before the Shanos Minor Bomb.

Still, he seemed to be paying attention to Jhess, who stood before them, using his psychological training to offer coping mechanisms. "We're now in the midst of collective grief, which happens when a community, society, village, or planet all experience a shared extreme change or loss. And like individual grief, there is a feeling of lack of control that comes with collective grief. We feel unable to prevent the loss or change, and we feel powerless in its wake."

Mreia listened to him, her feelings for him from long ago, before they separated after he returned from the last War, still there. His warmth, his compassion and empathy... all the things she had fallen in love with years before... were still there.

And his strength, his ferocity... all the things she had rejected in him... had helped save Shau's and her life.

"And not only do we experience this collective grief," Jhess continued. "But we can also feel what is known as anticipatory grief as the crisis continues on. Anticipatory grief is that feeling we get when we are, in a way, pre-emptively mourning and grieving. We see the loss around us, and we see that the problems have not been fixed, so we know more is coming down the line.

And when whole communities start to experience collective and anticipatory grief, that feeling of being out of control can become stronger than ever. When usually we are only in tune with our own grieving and mourning processes, we're now linked and connected and in tune with the grief and mourning processes of others.

It can feel overwhelming, and we don't know what we can do-"

"I know where we can start," someone in the group said. "We can start with that Ferasan bastard down below."

Others made noises of agreement, and Mreia felt the scent of tension and anger flare up... even as she understood the anger.

She watched Jhess nod in acknowledgement. "Yes, those feelings are natural. But they are also misplaced. The prisoner had nothing to do with the bombing of Shanos Minor."

"He's a Ferasan, isn't he?" another countered. "If he hasn't done this, he'll have done something else!"

"None of them have any business being on our world!" a third declared.

"Why are you defending him?" a fourth accused angrily.

"I'm not defending him," Jhess assured them. "Believe me, I've fought them, plenty of times!"

Mreia swallowed, hating seeing Jhess ganged up on like this, but not wanting to draw attention to herself while Shau was here-

Then her cub seemed to awaken, as if the teenager was reacting to the argument, and for a second she feared he might join in, in defence of his father. Instead, he offered, "I'm tired. Gonna go to bed."

"Do you want me to come along?"

"No. Keep an eye on Dad."

She nodded, grateful for his decision, squeezing his paw as he rose and departed, letting her focus on the growing tension in the room, with the others drawing closer to Jhess, making him step back.

Now she rose as well, speaking up over the protestors. "Wait! We can't let our emotions get the better of us!" She gently pushed her way through the others to join Jhess and face them. "We can't descend into mob thinking, mob violence!"

"We have a right to justice!" someone snarled into her face, teeth bared.

Jhess stepped forward, his protective instincts rising. "Justice, or vengeance? Because believe me, there's a big difference between the two."

*

Shau walked numbly towards the quarters assigned to him and his family, quickening his pace as he entered the stark enclosure, glancing around before finding his father's bag under the bed. He knelt and drew it out, opening it to find his father's Militia gear... and his father's plasma pistol.

*

Bridge, USS Surefoot, Thirteenth Fleet Caitian Task Force, Caitian Sector:

Captain T'Varik leaned forward in her chair. "Long range sensors?"

Behind her, C'Rash moved her paws over her console, her voice spicing her report. "Scanning... Caitian colonies on Alchemy, Azure Aura, Havelind... extensive damage... no lifesigns detected. But... long-range sensors are not 100% reliable for something that precise."

T'Varik felt the eyes of her First Officer Commander Murphy and others on her. She kept her composure, stared ahead at the warp speed-dilated starscape on the viewscreen, and silently mourned the loss of the hundreds of Caitians on those geoforming colony planets in the system neighbouring Cait. So many more deaths. "Raise Admiral Tattok on the Triton."

Seconds later, the starscape was replaced by the aquamarine, ossified face of the Roylan Admiral. "Captain T'Varik?"

"Admiral, no doubt you and the rest of the Task Force will have scanned the Caitian colonies, and come to the same conclusion. However, given the problems of fidelity of long-range sensors towards detecting individual lifeforms at this extreme range-"

"You wish one of our ships to remain to perform more thorough scans for survivors?"

"I... would perhaps recommend launching probes. The Surefoot's own probes are specialised for search and rescue missions."

"Good idea, Captain, make it so."

"Understood, Sir. Surefoot out." As the viewscreen restored the starfield, she added, "Lt Bellator, if you would do the honours?"

"Already programmed and ready to launch, Captain."

"Then I suggest you haul ass and get it done."

The Bridge seemed to pause, before the Nova Roman Operations Officer responded with, "Aye, Ma'am."

T'Varik continued to stare ahead, fully aware of Murphy's attention on her, waiting for him to finally respond with, "Excuse me, Captain? 'Haul ass'? Not very Vulcan, is it?"

"No," she admitted. "But it is typical of Captain Hrelle's singular style of command, which favours posterior-related dialogue. I am merely preparing those crewmembers who have not worked with him for when he inevitably returns."

Murphy nodded dryly. "Ah, I see. Very logical, Captain."

She nodded sagely. "You bet your ass it is."

*

Capitol Building, First City, M'Mirl Province:

"Master Governor! Security Alert from the Perimeter Network!"

Melem-Adu strode up to the station. "Report!"

The male pointed to the display. "Starfleet vessels detected! Six, just beyond the outer orbit of Kuburan! Galaxy-class, Intrepid-class, Nebula-"

The Master Governor leaned in, gnashing his sabreteeth. "Are there any of our outer patrols in that area who can verify?"

"No, Sire! Shall we alert the nearest?"

Melem-Adu drew back. Privately, he had wondered why it had taken so long for the Federation to respond to such a brazen intrusion into their space, even with the enormous burden they already faced in their war with the Dominion... and he knew they weren't all toothless cowards.

Speaking of the Dominion... he looked over at Welros, who was conversing intently with his Jem'Hadar minions, no doubt their own vessels having detected the Starfleet vessels, but otherwise withholding the information from their so-called allies.

We don't need you simpering jackals, not this time... He looked back at the male. "No, we cannot waste time, they will be upon us by the time one of our vessels is in sensor range! Alert the Warships in orbit! Have them break orbit and meet the Starfleet ships, with Pridemaster Eshtar-Muti in overall command! We will overwhelm them, leave a field of debris and corpses floating out there in the cold and dark of space!"

Fuck the Dominion, he thought. And fuck the Patriarch, too. When Starfleet has been swatted away, and the Caitian Sheep have learned their lessons and finally begin cooperating, then the destiny of the Ferasan race will be fully in my paws.

*

Ferasan Shuttle, over Gulf of Ujanka:

"Captain, the Ferasans have taken the bait! They've broken orbit and are heading towards the direction of the false sensor images!"

Hrelle, sitting in the pilot's seat, felt his pulse quicken. "All of them? What about the Jem'Hadar?"

Commander Tshal's voice over the comm showed some disappointment now. "Only their Slithus Warship ships. And none of the Jem'Hadar Scarabs have accompanied them."

He frowned at that, but then nodded. "Acknowledged. Inform all parties to proceed on schedule. We'll be arriving at the Capitol in thirty minutes' time; if anything changes before then, let us know. Hrelle out." He closed the channel.

Behind him, Nenjo was adjusting her holosuit to project the image of a Ferasan male around herself, but now stopped. "Proceed? Are you sure about that, Captain?"

Beside him in the co-pilot's seat, Valtiri sat, silent and motionless but obviously aware of the updated situation. Finally Hrelle responded, "The only thing I'm really sure about, Agent Nenjo, is that when you leap off the rocks to dive into the water, it's too late to think about going back." Now he looked to the Ferasan. "Well, Hunter Prime? Anything to say on the subject?"

Now the giant blonde-furred male looked back. "I agree with you, Captain. The diversion should last long enough for us to take full advantage of the situation."

Hrelle grunted. "'We', huh? Part of the team now?"

"It seems wise, given the alternatives." Valtiri looked ahead, staring out at the blanket of white clouds passing quickly beneath them. "I accept that I will never see Ferasa, or my home again. Maybe I will be killed here by my own people helping you. Maybe I will be executed here by your people for my crimes, or simply just imprisoned somewhere for life..." He breathed in. "And it is no less than I deserve. But at least I can try and make up for my past sins."

Hrelle regarded him.... wondering if he was keeping his word and not probing their minds without permission. Hrelle had developed some instincts about telepathic activity, though it wasn't perfect, he had the impression that Valtiri was keeping his word... and the fact that Sreen let herself be held by him without reacting spoke volumes That didn't make this little speech of his anymore genuine.

Still, he also acknowledged that his own past was hardly pristine... and he had no intention of going into the Valley of the Shadow of Death with hatred in his heart... especially towards someone he might depend upon. "Thank you for your help. And I promise I will speak on your behalf for what you've done. And what you have yet to do."

Valtiri looked at him, as if seeking some level of sarcasm from the Caitian. Then he nodded. "Now is the time to apply your cosmetic damage, Captain. Unless you wish my people to believe that you were taken without a fight?"

"You're right.... but you'd better get some as well. I'm not easy to capture alive."

*

Detention Hub, Resistance Facility, Kaijushima Island:

The young Ferasan male lay on the bunk in the cell, his back to the vertical bars separating him from the rest of the Hub, trying to ignore the sounds of the transmission that was deliberately played, over and over, for him. The sounds of a city being annihilated.

Back in Mithrim Valley, Pilot of the Umber Tail Pride had no idea what had happened to Shanos Minor on the other side of the mountains, only that the tops of the mountains separating him from the city came down and buried them. Then he had been beamed aboard the Caitian flyer and imprisoned, the Hunter Prime seemingly and inexplicably collaborating with the Enemy, before being taken to this place and deposited here, the scent of hatred from the Caitians almost overwhelming.

Pilot accepted that under the circumstances, with the Ferasans taking over their planet, the Caitians had a right to see him as an opponent. But their revulsion to him on a personal level seemed so disproportionate, considering he hadn't done anything to them.

Then his guard here showed him the recording of the bombing of Shanos Minor.

And kept playing it, over and over and over. Even after he turned his back to it, and put a pillow over his head to try and block out the sounds, the voice of the Master Governor, so triumphant, so taunting.

Pilot had flown over the city before landing Valtiri down in the adjacent Valley, had been amazed by the scintillating beauty of Shanos Minor. To see it all flattened and burned and turned to dust and debris, millions dead... and by the paws of his own people. How... How could this have happened? No matter how desperate his people were to survive? What could they possibly have done to deserve that?

It was too much to absorb.

He wept. Wept for people who weren't his own, people he never met and had no history with.

He wept until the guard finally showed him mercy and turned off the recording.

He lay there, exhausted, wanting to die, wanting to be anything but alive and awake and feeling as he did-

"Who are you?"

Pilot froze, hearing and smelling a newcomer into the Hub.

"Shau Furore. Do you know my Dad, Lt Furore?"

The Ferasan turned in his bunk, looking over his shoulder to see a young brown-furred Caitian near the Guard's workstation, as the Guard rose to his feet. "You're Jhess' cub? Yeah, he talked about you. But why are you here?"

The cub looked casual, even bored, but never glanced over at the cells as he replied, "I've been looking to help out around here, he said to come down to give you a break. He'll be down in a minute to take over."

Pilot was about to turn back and replace the pillow over his head... but stopped at the suspicious response from the Guard. "Thanks, but maybe I'll just wait until your father gets here-"

Pilot started as the Caitian cub drew a plasma pistol into view, pointing it at the Guard's stomach. "Get out."

Now Pilot rose to his feet, paws clutching the bars of his cell as he watched, his own fear and confusion matching the Guard's, who raised his paws up slightly. "What are you doing, Cub?"

The cub called Shau stepped aside, as if to reveal the only door out. "I said get out. Give me a minute alone in here with him."

The Guard glanced over at Pilot... and Pilot saw, for the first time, the underlying concern for him, a concern that butted heads with the hostility. "Shau... don't do this-"

"I SAID GET OUT!" His roar echoed around the confined space. The pistol, raised in punctuation, did the rest.

The Guard backed out. As the door slid shut, the cub moved to the workstation, his free paw frantically looking for the door lock.

Pilot watched him silently. Not certain if he wanted the Caitian to succeed or not.

Then Shau stepped out into view, his tail twitching behind him, the pistol in his paw trembling. He stared at Pilot.

Pilot stared back at him.

An eternity later, Shau seemed to snap back into awareness. "Noma."

"Ex-Excuse me?"

The Ferasan's voice galvanised the Caitian, and he raised the pistol higher, struggling to control the shaking, his teeth bared. "Her name was Noma. She was seventeen. Her parents sold fresh fruit and vegetables in Crescent Market. She had a battered brown shuris leather jacket that was two sizes too big for her and the fastener was broken and it didn't matter to her. She loved ninshoot soup. She loved freedom. She loved me.