Surefoot 71: The End

Confirmation of the disaster reached Cait, and the rest of the Federation, far sooner.

*

In a cell in the lower levels of the Capitol, Nusum-Adu stirred painfully from the receding effects of the sedatives he had been under for days. He woke, blinking into the light, sniffing and catching the scent of- "Father?"

Melem-Adu sat with his back to the opposite wall, his voice like a dead thing. "You're awake. Better I'd killed you while you still slept."

The words, the tone, were enough to force the younger male to half-sit up, wincing at his injuries, and the constriction from the regenerative bandages wrapped around his torso and parts of his limbs. He glanced around, blinking in the light of the tiny enclosure. "What- What has happened?"

Melem-Adu laughed caustically. "Much."

His son looked out, seeing the red strip around the seemingly-open doorway, indicating an invisible force field blocking egress: a cell. "What has happened?"

"We have been betrayed. While you were recovering from your injuries, the Caitians somehow managed to bewitch the Hunter Prime into escorting that bastard Hrelle in to strike at our very heart." He grunted. "Hrelle's wife is a witch, like all the females, using their bodies and their wiles to try and twist males into doing their bidding."

"You do her an injustice."

Both captives looked up at the voice of the arrival in the corridor beyond their cell, as Valtiri approached, looking down at them as he continued. "But then, you are kith and kin to injustice, are you not? Injustice, cruelty, savagery, chaos. They are suffused in your very genes, like our toxic genes."

Melem-Adu snarled up at him. "Traitor! You will burn for this perfidy!"

"Perhaps, Former Master Governor. But I daresay you'll go before me. I have looked into the mind of the Caitian who will pronounce judgement on you; her call will be swift, and inarguable."

Nusum-Adu tried to help himself to his feet, staring in a confusion that was quickly eclipsed by fear. "We- We did what we did to save our race!"

Valtiri regarded him with what looked like genuine pity. "You may argue that point... but it will do you no good. Better to accept your fate with whatever dignity you can scrape together."

"Mutant mongrel!" Melem-Adu spat. "So what if we die? The Patriarch will just send more like us! He told me as much! We will occupy this world again!"

Now Valtiri looked to him. Mournfully. "No. We won't."

*

Hrelle had been in the midst of collating the initial efforts around Cait when the news came through; minutes later, the principal parties involved had returned to the Operations Room of the Capitol for the briefing.

The image on the main viewscreen looked as if some omnipotent child-god had taken a star and ripped it open like a fruit, leaving the innards spilt out over space, as Hrelle reported. "This was recorded by Captain Nola Brice of the USS Harken, on a long-range reconnaissance mission to the Ferasan Sector, sent by Admiral Tattok to monitor what their response might be to our victory here. They had just confirmed the arrival of over eighty-six Ferasan Prideships to form a new fleet... and then this happened."

"Bloody Hemra..." Weynik breathed out. "Did the star go supernova?"

"No. The explosion occurred within the vicinity of Ferasa Prime, affecting both space and subspace. The Harken's sensors detected Omega Particles."

The other Starfleet senior officers reacted. Captain Mrorr, however, saw this reaction and looked around. "What are those?"

"Very exotic, very powerful, very unstable particles of energy, banned throughout the Federation, the Klingon and Romulan Empires because of their potential to destroy large sections of both space and subspace, wiping out planets and making warp drive there impossible." He indicated the screen. "As we can see here."

Ma'Sala stepped forward, as Tattok asked, "So what happened?"

"I believe I have the answer to that, Admiral."

The group turned to Valtiri, who had spoken as he entered, looking up gravely at the images of destruction, his emotions clear. "The Patriarch's Chief Scientists have been experimenting with producing Omega Particles for years, to employ as weapons. Before I left the Fatherworld on my mission to hunt Captain Hrelle and his daughter, I learned that the Patriarch had been repeatedly warned by his Scientists about the volatile and dangerous nature of Omega, but he insisted on their being employed with the ships being gathered to form a Second Fleet and come here." He raised an open paw to the screen. "This is the price my people have paid, for a self-deluded despot's conceit... and for our blind devotion to him."

Hrelle looked to the Hunter Prime... and to Ma'Sala, seeing some sort of reaction from her at Valtiri's announcement, without his being able to define what.

"A tragedy," Tattok declared. "And under Starfleet Regulations, one that cannot be revealed to the Galaxy. We have standing orders, not only to suppress any parties attempting to generate or employ Omega Particles, but to suppress their very existence. As far as anyone else will ever know, this was a devastating but thankfully rare subspace phenomenon."

"I don't understand," Kami admitted. "Why cover it up, Admiral?"

"Because, Counselor, as dangerous as Omega is, the temptation to attempt to synthesise them, for use as either a power source or a weapon, is very potent, especially with the Dominion threat still looming over us. And to officially, publicly confirm the existence of Omega, even with Ferasa as a graphic example of their danger, would not deter some Federation member worlds from still secretly making the attempt. The resulting devastation could dwarf anything done to us by the Dominion."

Now Tattok faced the Ferasan. "Mr Valtiri, regardless of your acts, as an individual and as a people, you have my condolences. I cannot imagine what you might be feeling now, seeing your world destroyed like this. I will be in consultation with Starfleet Command and the Federation Council about finding a new planet for your people... those that aren't facing trial, anyway."

Valtiri had dropped his arm, but continued to stare upwards. "Thank you, Admiral. You are most gracious, under the circumstances." Now he turned to Hrelle. "Captain, I have a shuttle scheduled to take me to the civilian Ferasan camp. With your permission, I'd like to go now, and inform them of what has happened to our world... and to help them prepare for whatever new life we might find for ourselves."

*

Later in quarters in the Capitol Building set aside for the Shall Clan, T'Varik sat on a couch with Sreen in her arms, the infant looking up at her and singing softly while clutching the Vulcan's forefinger. "My goddaughter has developed considerably since I last saw her."

Kami allowed herself a smile, standing nearby cradling a hot cup of scented tea and walking towards the window. "Do you really think so? Jhess was suggesting that the use of the new models of exoframe have been stimulating her neural connections. Not enough to let her do things without it, but he thinks she'll start crawling in the next few weeks."

She stared up at the night sky, sobering. "An entire world, snuffed out like a candle. I know that there must be an infinite number of worlds in the Universe that live and die, without our never knowing their names or peoples or histories."

Her friend nodded in understanding. "But we know this one. We know its name, its people, its history."

"Yes... Imagine being one of the Ferasans here tonight, looking up and seeing the starlight from your home system, and knowing that right now, it wasn't there anymore. That this light that they see here tonight was only an echo from a century ago. Under different circumstances, it could have been Cait that was wiped out."

T'Varik nodded. "Or Vulcan... though I cannot conceive of any scenario where Vulcan would be destroyed. How is the rest of the family?"

"Papas Mi'Tree and Bneea are still in shock that Mama is still alive. Ptera, Baby Jnill and Mirow have returned to her family's Clanlands to speak with the rest of them about the future, specifically her new responsibilities as Matriarch, and how much time she'll spend managing the company instead of being a surgeon.

Sasha... she hasn't been in contact since Navron; I suspect she's somewhere in her flyer having a celebratory rut with Lt Mori. Esek and Mama will be working their tails off in the coming days... but I need to get some private time soon to help Mama cope with what she's gone through: her injuries, her isolation, her guilt. Knowing her, she'll say No."

"Knowing her daughter, I doubt if she will take No for an answer."

Sreen shook T'Varik's finger, babbling tiredly, "Gadmama, gabadoo me feesh a beeg feesh! Kapoo a ship and da... Foom!"

"Indeed, Goddaughter; your anecdotes remain most illuminating." The Vulcan looked up at the infant's mother. "And my Godson?"

"Settled down, with the help of a mild sedative and one of my shirts with my scent on it." She shook her head. "I can't believe he actually lifted up a phaser rifle to protect me... A thousand times he was told never to touch one, not even a holographic one. And yet he grabbed it without hesitation and fired to save his grandfather and me. How did he even know how to use it?"

"He is a most observant cub... and a charismatic one."

Kami shuddered. "Cubs his age, no matter how observant or charismatic, shouldn't be doing that. They should be out crimping their tails and scraping their knees in the playground, or complaining about homework."

The Vulcan idly stroked the downy fur behind Sreen's ears, inducing the infant to settle down and fall asleep. "I daresay many cubs his age on Cait have experienced things they should otherwise have been spared, because of the Occupation. Misha is highly fortunate to have the strong support of family around him to help him cope with his actions... and for his family to have the support of each other."

Kami joined her on the couch, drawing in to sniff her daughter while trying not to wake her, before whispering, "Enough of this serious talk for a while. I know we all have so much work ahead of us, but I'll still want to get all the Surefoot gossip while I have you here for myself. Purely for professional reasons, of course."

T'Varik raised a eyebrow. "Then perhaps you should be speaking with my wife. As a Vulcan I could not possibly be an adequate source of irrelevant social information."

Kami continued to look at her expectantly.

T'Varik sighed. "Of late, Nurse Eydiir has been attending social gatherings with Assistant Engineer Arid Maf, following what I am told was an amicable separation from her former paramour Ensign Falok. Chief Sakai's latest practical joke involved infecting C'Rash's fur with itch-inducing Nanites; she was not amused, though I privately admired the creativity of her profanity. Lieutenant Kitirik has taken up the hobby of cooking, with mixed results for those who are not insectivorous..."

*

Hrelle beamed into the darkened interior of the Tailless, sniffing and listening, concern still high since Sasha had failed to respond to his hails, and his queries with Lt Mori informed him that Sasha had taken off without warning from Navron. He glanced out through the cockpit window at the empty plains where his daughter had chosen to park instead of coming home. "Sash?"

He heard a sound from the after section, and ventured there, peering around the corner, smelling the alcohol.

She was slumped on the couch, head and upper half of her face covered by a cowboy hat pulled down over her eyes like she was napping, boots up on the table, almost threatening to knock over the emptied bottle and glass there. Seven Hells, Sash, please don't tell me you finished an entire Aldebaran whiskey on your own... "Hello, Runt of the Litter."

She reacted with a little delay, leaning her back, pushing the rim of the hat up from her eyes, focusing with some difficulty on him, before offering a smile and a slurred, "Hello, Papa Cat! Welcome to Casha Sasha- I mean, Casa Sasasha! Ahh, you know what I mean! Pull up a chair and I'll see if we can find another bottle so you can catch up with me!"

"Thank you, no. Did you really finish that yourself?"

She frowned in drunken confusion at him, before seemingly noticing the bottle. "Oh, that. No, no, no, I tapped into it a couple of days ago with Mru after a particularly good screw we had." She chuckled to herself. "He has the most delicious piece you can imagine! And the way I can feel his balls slap when he's losing-"

He raised a paw to her. "Why don't you stop right there, before you say something more that you'll definitely regret when you're sober?" He drew closer and took a seat beside her, noticing something else on the table: the Hebrew Chai pendant her mother gave her. "I was expecting you to come to the Capitol after Navron. Everyone wanted to congratulate you on your achievement. We couldn't have had a victory without you."

"Or the Skycats," she noted, her expression growing mournful. "Only one survived. We couldn't have done it without them."

"So I heard. My limited time with them was fascinating. They will be remembered."

"And they said Mistress Nvell was killed in Shanos Major. Another one to remember."

Hrelle nodded; that news struck him too, even amidst all the momentous changes that had occurred this day. All the Kaetini warriors, all the planet, would sorely miss her. "But I'm guessing you're not hiding out here getting drunk alone out of mourning for them."

Sasha tried to whistle, and failed. "Clever Papa Cat. You always know everything, don't you?"

"It never feels that way to me. What is it that's making you feel like this?"

"Failure."

He frowned. "Failure? Why do you think you're a failure?"

"Me? Not me. I killed. Again. Killed dozens and dozens. I am a Killing Machine. And I am very, very good at it." She looked away, wiping nothing from her hands on her trousers. "I meant the 'Failures' in Navron. It's what the Ferasans classified those Caitian females and cubs who didn't respond to their attempts to carry Ferasan embryos, or their attempts to genetically adapt the cubs to appear Ferasan. Like it was their fault, like they weren't trying hard enough to be what the Rat-Tails wanted them to be.

Those 'Failures' were disposed of in disintegration chambers: high-tech crematoria, barely leaving any residue, only dust. Most of them who were put in the chambers were dead.

But not all. Those not worth putting out of their misery. They got to spend their final moments being pulled apart like some transporter malfunction nightmare."

Hrelle's stomach twisted into knots. Knowing the dry facts of the Ferasan atrocities was bad enough; hearing them from his daughter was something else. And Sasha, for all her previous combat experience, to have seen it directly... "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

She shrugged, lowering her feet to sit up and reach for the bottle. "Feel more sorry for the Caitians imprisoned there. Raped there. Experimented on there. Disposed of with the garbage there. I saw them, heard their stories." She lifted the bottle, tilted it backwards over her open mouth as if to catch any lingering drops, before slamming the bottle down again in disgust... as if daring it to break and cut her hand to ribbons.

Hrelle reached out and took her free hand in his paw, squeezing gently. "Sasha... what's happened in Navron, and the other camps, was terrible, horrific... and what you're feeling now will be felt by others as more learn the full truth... and as much as we might want to ignore it, to put behind us, we must remember it, to make sure it never again happens..."

"'Never Again'," she echoed bitterly. "On Earth, in 1945, when the survivors of the concentration camp at Buchenwald were liberated, they hung up handwritten signs everywhere that said 'Never Again'. Later, they mounted those same words in many languages in stone when they opened the camp to visitors.

And the world agreed, that there would Never Again be another Holocaust. And there wasn't.

Until the Cambodian Killing Fields. And the Chechyen Pogrom. And the Eugenics Purges. And the Green Massacres. And the Post-Atomic Horrors. And then outwards to other worlds: Tarsus IV. And Tralestra. And other races joined in on the fun, at Khitomer. And Setlik III. And Vorsprun. Over and over and over, a never ending cycle of death and destruction. Which means that all our fighting, all our killing and sacrifice, means... absolutely nothing."

"Sasha," he said gently. "Yes, there are terrible things that happen in life, throughout the Universe. But they're not the only things. There are so many wonderful things too. Acts of kindness and compassion and mercy. There can't be the darkness without the light. You can't allow yourself to be blinded by the darkness. Do you understand?"

She seemed to focus on him fully as he spoke. She made a sound.

Then she leaned in closer, dipped her head between them and copiously threw up, most of the vomit splattering the floor, chair, and Hrelle's trousers and boots.

He caught her before she fell into her own sick, lifting her up in his arms, carrying her into her quarters and resting her on her side, getting a basin for the side of her bunk, before cleaning everything up, and leaving some water, and her pendant, near her, before returning to the cockpit to pilot them back to the Capitol.

*

They were going to finally die.

Trapped beneath the surface, all exits blocked when the city seemed to come down upon them, caught in an eternal darkness, the air growing stale, their stomachs twisted into knots from hunger and thirst, they felt the ceiling finally rumble with imminent collapse upon them. And they welcomed it, absolutely certain without a doubt that the planet had been destroyed in some horrible cataclysm caused by the Ferasans.

They huddled together, holding onto the cubs as tightly as they could. Please, please, just let the end finally be quick and as painless as possible-

A red glow from the ceiling filled the chamber with crimson light, making the survivors shield their eyes and try and reassure the crying cubs. The red glow seemed to spread outward, eating away the ceiling. This was it, this was definitely the end-

Then the red glow was replaced by a column of bright, dust-flecked sunlight that streamed down from the new hole in the ceiling. And seconds later, a short, lithe humanoid figure dropped the two-metre height to land and roll like an acrobat, before rising again.

The survivors blinked in fear and confusion at the humanoid, an olive-skinned reptoid in a Starfleet uniform, clutching a tricorder in one webbed hand as it dusted itself off with the other hand, his large round eyes blinking as he looked up at the height he had just leapt. "I am pleased not to have injured myself, otherwise Best Friend Eydiir would have simultaneously healed me and threatened further injury for my bravado. A most amusing talent of hers."

He looked to the huddled survivors, aiming the tricorder in their direction, and bowed. "Greetings. I am Lieutenant Kitirik Abyss Zuinthinem Emijiz, Chief Science Officer of the USS Surefoot, but you may call me Kit. I am most pleased to have discovered you alive."

The survivors looked to each other, the oldest struggling to stammer, "Y-You're-"

The reptoid looked at its tricorder and tapped its combadge. "Kitirik to Surefoot: I have found another fourteen survivors at my location, with the expected physical ailments of radiation poisoning, malnutrition and dehydration."