Surefoot 71: The End

"GRAMMA!" Misha shouted.

"Mama?" Kami whispered in naked disbelief.

The others looked to the new arrival, Bneea and Mi'Tree stepping forward, lowering their weapons and both exclaimed simultaneously. "Ma'Sala?"

Ma'Sala stepped forward, limping slightly, and for the first time in Kami's memory, looked self-conscious, even vulnerable. But her scent, her sound... it was her! She was alive!

Misha leapt out of his mother's arms and raced up unafraid and unapologetic into his grandmother's. Kami followed, and then Bneea and Mi'Tree.

*

Jinjer winced as he limped up over the rise on the steppes of Ravath, using a piece of fuselage as a crutch. His leg didn't feel broken, it just shot a world of pain through him with every step he took. Any landing you can walk away from is a good one, my furry rear end.

They were gone, all but him. Biggles, Aljinon, Bertti, Smithi... you beautiful, beautiful people. Why did I have to survive when none of you did? Biggles, you fool, you have a son out there! And Alji and Bertti? You should have married long ago? Smithi? Where was that book you almost promised to finish writing?

But me? I'm nothing. Useless. No good to anyone. A worthless old cat who should have just stayed with the other wreckage.

Finding Navron Camp was easy enough: follow the smoke. And it was a pleasure to see the remains of the Ferasans they had brought down first. Of course, he was risking that his side hadn't been successful after all, and he could be walking -- okay, limping -- into capture. He supposed it beat starving to death out here in the middle of-

He stopped as he heard the whimpering, dropping to a pained crouch and peering ahead, over the top of the rise.

There were cubs. They varied in age from five to ten, and they looked thin as twigs, the clothes hanging off them. But they were helping each other to keep moving, moving away from the camp.

Jinjer rose up, doubling his efforts to catch up with them, waving in their direction as he shouted, "Hey there!"

The cubs stopped, drew together fearfully, some of the older cubs crowding around the younger ones protectively. The tallest of them, a female, stepped forward, paws raised, shouting out, "Who are you? Stay back! I hurt you!"

Jinjer slowed down as he drew closer, raising his free paw in conciliation. "It's okay! I'm not one of the Ferasans!" He indicated his leather jacket. "See?"

Then he realised the young cub couldn't. She was blind. She was using her other senses, and sheer bravado, to defend the rest of them.

Mother's Cubs... He had been told about what the Ferasans were doing in the camps, but seeing the actual effects of what those bastards had done to these poor cubs...

He took another step forward, ignoring his own pain as he dropped down to one knee before the tallest cub until they were at the same level, his voice soft and reassuring. "My name is Jinjer Barin, with the 409^th Aerobatics Squadron. I'm a Skycat." He reached out, took the cub's right paw and guided it to his own muzzle. "See? No sabreteeth. I'm Caitian, just like you."

The cub was crying now. "Please help us."

Jinjer was crying too, but ignored his own tears to wipe away the cub's. "Of course I'll help you. All of you." He took the cub's paw in his own and rose. "Come along now. We've taken care of those horrid Ferasans. Now we'll see about getting you fed and fixed up and back to your families before you know it."

The cub clung to his paw as if for dear life, as the others huddled around him.

*

"...May the Great Mother watch over all of us. End Transmission."

The Ferasan barely listened to the announcement over the Navron Camp loudspeaker, bending over the station console, rapidly erasing the internal memory while setting the explosives. It had been ages since he had taught himself how to handle these, only wanting to make himself more useful to his Pride, never thinking for a moment that he would have to use such knowledge for real.

Everything had been running as smoothly as it could here, or so he imagined. Now, in the space of an hour, it had all fallen apart, the Caitian garbage had somehow found aircraft and attacked, leaving him to follow the Pridemaster's orders and cover up what had happened here before making his escape with the rest of his Pride- those that still survived-

The door opened, and a human female in armour and wielding a phaser rifle burst in and aimed at him. He ducked and reached for his disruptor-

Sasha stunned him and stepped over his unconscious form, before moving to the explosive charge, examining and deactivating it. She glanced at him, before checking the computer. "A little overreaction, Bubulah. Why would you want to blow this particular building up?" She had entered this building, a reinforced structure at the edge of camp, assuming it was an armoury or a storehouse.

Until she opened a reinforced metal door at the end with a control panel built into it, and coughed at the face full of dust she received. She cleared her throat and peered inside: a stark, windowless room empty of everything but several centimetres of dust. The interior was lined from floor to wall to ceiling with vents and energy conduits designed to handle substantial amount of energy. It reminded her of the transkinetic chambers onboard starships, used to break down residual antimatter on the subatomic level-

She spun in place, rifle raised up, when she felt the presence behind her, immediately lowering it on seeing the Caitian female standing outside. She coughed again from the dust. "Sorry, Ma'am, didn't mean to frighten you... I'm Starfleet- I..."

She stopped when she realised the female, a honey-furred, emaciated looking thing in her twenties, wasn't listening, seemed hypnotised by the interior of the room where Sasha stood. Her chocolate brown eyes fixed on the floor, seemingly on the footprints on the dust-covered floor. "They put Nrina in here."

"Excuse me? Who- Who's..." She looked down again.

"They put them all in here. When... When they died... They put my sister Nrina in here. And my friend Jel. And Dori. And Shaf. They put them all in here. And just like that... they're dust."

And then it hit Sasha like a meteor.

Oh God. Oh God, she was walking on the remains of bodies. She was breathing their remains into her lungs.

Her hand reached instinctively up to her neck, where underneath her uniform she wore the Chai pendant her mother gave her years ago, after they had visited the camp at Auschwitz on Earth, and the young Sasha remained traumatised with the realisation of what had happened there to their ancestors.

This means Life. Not just Life Itself, but the Will to Live. They tried to destroy us, but Am Yisrael Chai: The People of Israel Live.

Trying to hold it together, trying to keep from folding into herself in horror, she walked out, irrationally stepping in the same footsteps she had already made, in order to not disturb it any more.

She stepped back out with the Caitian, who continued to stare. "And just like that... they're dust. Like they never existed."

*

"NOW! RIP INTO THEM, STEELCROWNS!"

Pridemaster Warad-Enlil, of the Steel Crown Pride would not give up. He had believed from cubhood in the general superiority of his people... and the particular superiority of his Pride. Others might have looked down on them as inferior. But who had the Master Governor turned to when he wanted an atomic bomb created at short notice? They had more than claws and teeth and muscle and machinery; they had brains. They built and improved systems, and kept these innovations to themselves. And that made the difference.

So, when the cowardly Caitians had somehow infected the Prideships in orbit with an insidious virus, and others blew up, crashed and burned around the planet, he and his males had minimised the damage to their systems, managing to guide their vessel down to a relatively safe landing, here in the Port of Sekuro in Mnara Province.

And now they fought their way across the city to get to the nearest Aeroport, where they would commandeer a private flyer, or board a Subshuttle and hide out on another part of this miserable planet.

Warad-Enlil took twenty of his best males and left their Pride's females and less valuable males behind, and cut through the narrow, winding streets of Sekuro, firing at anyone who got in their way... and even the ones who didn't, their screams drowning out the snarl of the Ferasan disruptors. Keep them off-balance and cowering. They would rise again. Their Pride, their people, would still triumph!

The streets opened up into a wider plaza whose pavement was a colourful tiled mural around a gurgling fountain whose water was conjuring rainbow arcs in the sunlight. He paused, checking his datapad and pointing to a passage on the right. "That way, Steel Crown! That way!"

They swarmed ahead in the direction he indicated... before almost tripping over themselves as a half-dozen transporter columns appeared before them, quickly amalgamating into Starfleet personnel of various races, but all with Security armour and phasers.

Except for one: the largest of the six, and a monster, a huge mammoth pachydermoid with a thick grey hide, a broad muzzle with round open nostrils, and hands that balled into massive fists as he charged straight into them like a juggernaut, bellowing, "SCOUNDRELS! MEET YOUR GODS!"

Then Warad-Enlil stared in astonishment as the Monster punched ThirdSon so hard, the younger male literally soared into the air.

The Pridemaster called out to the rest of his males, "Burn them all!"

But the Starfleet Security team, led by a black-furred Caitian female, was not only not intimidated, but responded with equal ferocity. "Open fire! Do not let them leave this plaza! Thykrill! Watch the ones in back! Urad! Leave some for the rest of us!"

The Monster was holding two of Warad-Enlil's males in the air like they were dolls when it responded to the Caitian, but now just banged their heads together and threw them aside like rejected toys. Disruptor bolts shot around, but the Starfleet team dodged or took the blasts in their armour, and responded with phaser fire.

Warad-Enlil realised they weren't getting out of here.

Not all of them anyway.

He turned and fled the way they had come.

Only to find another Starfleet Security team blocking the way, led by a bald blue Bolian female, phaser arm raised. "Drop it, Dickhead!"

The Pridemaster turned around again- there had to be another way out-

The Caitian female had raced up to him, leaping and kicking him across the side of his head, sending him down.

He twisted and returned to his feet, losing his weapon but baring his claws and teeth. The Caitian did the same.

"Lieutenant Shall!" the Bolian shouted. "We can stun him-"

"Stand down, Neraxis!" the Caitian snarled, eyes locked on Warad-Enlil. "He's mine!"

The Pridemaster struck out. No. No, he wouldn't fall. Not to a Caitian. And especially not to a Caitian female.

She dodged his swings, ducked and kicked back, roaring with fury as she connected with astounding speed, and continuing to strike back.

And as more and more of his bones cracked and teeth flew, the pain suffusing his body was carried along by an unprecedented fear.

A final kick to his stomach sent him flying backwards, breaking his tail as he finally hit the pavement.

He spat up blood, splattering his fur.

No. No, it couldn't end like this.

It couldn't.

Then, as the Caitian crouched over him, snarled, "This is for Shanos Minor!", and delivered a last punch to send him into oblivion, he accepted that it could end like this.

And did.

*

Across the Bahari grasslands, a thousand-head herd of wild shurises poured westward like a wave, as if driven by the shadow cast from overhead, the shadow of the Deep Keep, as it descended to a thousand metre height, driving onward towards a large Ferasan encampment.

From the fenced enclosure, disruptor cannons fired upward. The Caitian vessel responded with the launch of several Lightpaw gyrohops, dodging the disruptor bolts and returning fire with their plasma cannons, taking out the weapons and guard towers.

Moments later, they landed within the enclosure, the troops within sweeping out, plasma rifles raised but not firing. Then, once the area was secured, Captain Mrorr beamed down, regarding what they had found... which had definitely not been what she had expected.

It was Ferasans. But no warriors. Females. Young cubs, too, though precious few of them. "Lieutenant Commander?"

Her Second Officer H'Nille approached. "Ma'am, from what we've been able to gather, this appears to be a residence for many of the non-combatants from the Prideships, giving them a chance to acclimate to our climate and gravity, and to immediately benefit from whatever medical advances their people could come up with here to overcome their genetic issues."

So most of the Prideships that came raining down today were mostly combatant males, Mrorr thought, because of course females were only good for one thing in their minds. She took in the looks of fear and anger and confusion in their faces, uncertain as to their fates. Mrorr wasn't all that certain, either.

"What are we going to do with them?" H'Nille asked.

You must have seen your ships raining down from the sky. You know your males, your Prides, are all dead, and your cause lost. How many of you would raise arms against us now to try and exact vengeance? You may be non-combatants, but you're all still Ferasan.

"Captain?" H'Nille prompted.

Mrorr breathed out. No. Being Ferasan is not reason enough to hate you. "Disarm and confine any guards you find, and check their infrastructure for the status of their supplies of food, water and medicine. Otherwise, they can stay here until someone can decide what to do with them." She looked up at the Deep Keep: it, like their people, their world, was damaged, but still functioning. "I have to get to the Capitol to meet with Fleet Captain Shall."

*

The convoy moved through south-west through the Kaigi Mountains to the Safe House, Nimeni's Security detail covering the front and rear.

In the armoured limousine, Nimeni sat in the rear, glad once more to have had his useless tail amputated long ago, making moving in and out of his hovercar that much easier. All tails are ever good for anyway is balance and emotional display, and I have no need for either.

He cradled a tumbler of Glenfiddich, watching the gentle swirl of the amber liquid with the movement of the vehicle. "When we arrive I want Rafael and Mesh clearing out any residual Chaos Codes from the systems, and get Khimpaq to track down reports of any fugitive Ferasans to forward to the Capitol.

I also want a collation of the prisoner data; the people will need to know who was sent where... and who won't be returning home after this." He looked up at Shona, sitting across from him, working on her PADD and ignoring her own drink. "The whiskey is Terran, over two centuries old... and costs a small fortune."

"I told you when you were opening it that it would be wasted on me."

"I hope you at least avail yourself of one of the escorts awaiting us at the safe house?"

"If I do, I'll never tell you." She paused. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For the opportunity to do something better than selling arms."

"My pleasure." He raised his tumbler to her. "Please, indulge me."

Now she set aside her PADD and raised her own.

"To Victory." he toasted.

"To Victory."

They drank... Shona choking a little on it and setting the glass down again in disgust. "Yuck."

"Barbarian."

"You should be proud. They couldn't have won this War without your efforts, Tarim."

He allowed himself a slight smile at her infrequent use of his real name. "I know. And I'll make sure they don't forget it. Reconstruction will afford us many new opportunities to expand our business. And our influence."

"But what about the Ferasans? What if they try to invade again?"

"They won't."

Now she looked up. "You seem very confident about that."

Nimeni stared out, his cybereyes re-reading the intercepted data on Ma'Sala Shall and her secret weapon, the Seven Hells Device she had employed today. Well played, Fleet Captain, my compliments. And the knowledge of what you have done may prove very valuable to me someday. "I have faith in the future."

*

Ensign Zir Dassene had seen much, not just in her burgeoning Starfleet career but her burgeoning life. She was no Squab. She had shed blood, and spilt it.

Still, as she beamed into the square of one of Cait's towns with her Security team to collect the Ferasan POWs reported there, she was stopped in her tracks by the sight of the mob, a hundred or more Caitians, howling and baying, flowing towards a set of wooden circles on a raised dais in the centre of the plaza.

"Ensign?" Crewman Virem Vahn asked over the noise, his bald blue Bolian forehead creasing in confusion.

Beside him, Crewman Tsath pointed to the centre of the mob, the Vulcan's calm demeanour belying the content of his observation. "They appear to have the Ferasan prisoners. The prisoners have suffered fresh injuries."

Zir looked to her left, to the Caitian Constabulary Station, where several uniformed Constables stood, watching, doing nothing to stop what was happening. The young Orion woman motioned to her team and raced up the steps to them. "What's going on here? We're here for the prisoners!"

One of the Constables was leaning casually against the doorway, his blonde tail swishing behind him as if nothing untoward was happening. "You're late. The mob got to them first."

Zir looked back, seeing from her elevated position the Ferasans being secured to points on the circles. Her stomach was churning. "What are those?"

"Martyr's Wheels." The Constable shrugged. "Not that these kussiks are martyrs, except to their own cause."

"What the Hell are Martyr's Wheels?"

"Ensign," Tsath interrupted, pointing to the area near the centre of the mob, where torches were being lit.

Zir's heart was racing, and she turned back to the Constables. "They're going to burn them alive?"

"That is how martyrs die."

"And you're letting this happen?"

Now he looked to her angrily, his tail twitching. "Don't shed any tears for them, Starfleet! They killed almost a third of the people here! They stole our cubs! I lost a sister to them!"

She looked to the others. "But you're Constables! You still have to uphold the law!"

The one who was talking to her shrugged again. "We also have to live here after you're gone."

She looked back again, the mob's rage building to a crescendo, as they backed away from the Ferasans on the Wheels, while some stepped forward, carrying the torches.

No. No matter what these Ferasans had done, this shouldn't happen to them. To be burned alive... She smacked her combadge. "Ensign Dassene to Surefoot: can you lock onto the Ferasans in the area and beam them out?"

"Negative, Ensign, the bioreading similarities between Ferasans and Caitians are too close, that's why you've been sent there in person-"

Then one of the Ferasans was set alight.

The mob roared. The Ferasan screamed.

"Security Alert One! Send backup!" She looked to her Team. "Phasers on Stun, Wide Setting, Security Pattern Alpha Three!" She drew her phaser as her Team complied and took positions, double checked the setting on her weapon and charged forward.

"Don't get involved, Starfleet!" the Constable called after her.

She ignored him, firing ahead into the crowd, stunning Caitians and literally leaping over the falling figures as she cut a path forward to get to the centre of the square, where the first Ferasan captive was almost fully alight, flames eating at fur and uniform as he frantically struggled to free himself, and his comrades were begging for help, for mercy, for anyone to save them.