Surefoot 72: Blue Sunshine

"USS Surefoot, Captain's Log, Stardate 52647.15, Esek Hrelle, Recording: After my extended stay on Cait leading the Occupation, I have finally resumed command of my ship, with my First Officer T'Varik returning to her former rank and role, as the Task Force leaves Cait to rejoin the rest of the Thirteenth Fleet in the Betazed Sector.

I have reluctantly left behind Kami, my wife and Counselor, with our young cubs Misha and Sreen. They have been such an integral part of my life these last few years, that being separated from them will be difficult. And not just emotionally; I'll need treatment to minimise Caitian Pheromone Withdrawal.

But Kami had been right, as usual. She needs to stay and help coordinate the medical response to the psychological trauma our people have undergone under the Ferasans, and our offspring deserve a taste of normalcy, with other cubs as well as their extended family... especially if the Dominion War is building to a crescendo, as it seems to be doing now. At least my daughter Sasha will be nearby, on the Ajax under my Little Buddy Weynik.

Despite this, I'm excited to be back. Pleased. Happy. Really, I am. I've missed Starfleet life. I've missed the routine, the technology, the protocols, and knowing everyone around me."

*

"Who in the Seven Hells is that?"

Hrelle stood in the doorway of the Enlisted Mess Hall/Rec Lounge, looking across the party at the Gorn in the gaudy Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts and oversized sandals, dancing and flirting with Engineering Crewman Dylan Lee.

He had voiced his query as a rhetorical mutter, which he assumed would be lost in the din of the loud, awful music the cubs seemed to prefer these days -- bet they never even heard of David Bowie -- but obviously T'Varik, standing beside him, had picked it up, as she responded, "Support Services Crewman Kevin O'Reilly."

"I meant the Gorn."

"As did I."

The Caitian looked to her, frowning. "There had better be a good story behind that."

The Vulcan nodded. "I believe you will find it so. He was discovered as a hatchling on an abandoned Gorn outpost on Wirisk IV by a Starfleet Away Team. The local records confirmed that he had been left behind intentionally, to die of exposure."

His hackles rose, and his response was a half-growl. "Why?"

"The reason was attributed to the circumstances of his being sired by a male outside of his mother's familial Clutch. Or, as Mr O'Reilly himself has colourfully put it, 'I wass a basstard before it wass fasshionable'."

Hrelle continued to scowl at the very notion, his Starfleet-ingrained tolerance of other races' cultural differences eclipsed by his natural Caitian revulsion towards someone leaving an infant cub to die over something that wasn't their fault. Then he looked to her again. "That still doesn't explain the name... or that phoney British accent you just tried to do."

She raised an indignant eyebrow. "I believe you will find that was Australian, not British... and with a high degree of verisimilitude, too. When Starfleet Command contacted the Gorn Hegemony and informed them of the hatchling's existence, they showed no interest in taking him back. He was then brought to Earth, adopted by a human family in Queensland, and raised there."

He looked back as the Gorn continued to groove to the music. Come on, Esek, is it any stranger than your human daughter embracing Caitian culture as fiercely as she has? "He seems friendly enough."

"He is also fair dinkum on a surfboard, too. Do you wish me to make introductions?"

He noticed the growing interest the off-duty crewmembers had at the arrival of the senior officers, and shook his head, stepping back outside into the clear air of the corridor; Ugh, teenagers of all races stink like nobody's business. "I have one-to-one meetings scheduled in the coming days with everybody onboard, so we'll meet eventually anyway. Damn, on top of all my other outstanding work, it'll take ages to get through everyone."

"You might expedite matters if you didn't keep cancelling such meetings." At his reaction, she clarified, "Counselor Alexander Auger's initial session with you this morning?"

He grunted, waving her along as he proceeded towards the aft of the ship. "One meeting. I cancelled one meeting. And I rescheduled it, didn't I? Besides, Kami gave me a clean bill of health before I left Cait, that should be good enough for Mr Auger." He grunted. "I can't believe you asked for him."

"I did not ask for him specifically. And once Kami confirmed she would be remaining behind, I could not leave the post unoccupied. He came highly recommended from the Counseling staff on the Triton, and has already held sessions with numerous crewmembers."

"He won't be as good as Kami."

"There is an obvious bias behind that presupposition... but I will not argue against it."

"Anyway, I have much more important things to do: backlogs of Starfleet reports, Federation news, re-certification of operational licences, inspections-"

"Spying on the Enlisted Crew's Friday Night Party?" she added dryly.

He stopped again and eyed her critically. "You know, you've gotten way saltier in my absence; it must be exhaustion from the gigaquads of Captain's Logs you left me to wade through. Seven Hells, T'Varik, it's like trying to read all twelve volumes of The Never Ending Sacrifice. Simultaneously."

"My apologies, Captain. I desired to be thorough."

He continued walking. "There's thorough, and then there's devastating. Between this and your attempts at accents, I'd almost think you were in love with the sound of your own voice."

She seemed to consider his words as she followed. "I have been complimented on my oral skills by C'Rash. I merely assumed my wife was referring to something else."

He shot her another aside.

Then laughed so hard he startled some passing crewmen.

*

Hrelle hopped off the biobed in Main Sickbay and reached for his jacket. "Well, Doc? In fine fettle as usual?"

Doctor Ezekiel Masterson, a tall, rugged, pale-skinned human male from a colony that embraced the culture of the American Wild West of almost five centuries ago, made a sound as he set aside his tricorder and sensor wand. "Well, ignoring the replaced right eye, the repair done to your heart and various bones, and the passel of disruptor, stab, claw and burn wounds you collected while on Cait..."

"Yes?"

He looked to Hrelle. "You've put on weight again. I'd hate to be the burro that'd have to carry you across the Panhandle."

The Caitian harrumphed, having already come to that conclusion himself after trying on some pre-fabricated uniforms he had left behind in his quarters. "Actually, Zeke, I think you'll find it's your sensors that need calibrating to compensate for my extended stay on a planet with a lighter gravity than is standard onboard a Starfleet vessel. You just have to round down."

"Yeah, I can swallow that load of mule muffins ya just shovelled my way... or you can get back into a regular exercise routine. With a restricted menu on all the replicators... and no begging for snack handouts from the rest of the crew. Your First Officer has been informed of this already."

Hrelle's tail drooped. "Anyone ever tell you that you're a real ballache, Doc?"

Masterson grinned good-naturedly. "Thanks, Pardner; now I know you agree with me. You'll be done here, once my new Chief Nurse starts the pheromone suppressant treatment."

"Fine, the sooner I vamoose, the better-" Then he grinned as another familiar face approached. "Eydiir!" He held out his arms to hug her, but then stopped and dropped them again. "Sorry, I know I overstep my bounds sometimes and do not behave in as professional a manner as I should with my Cubs- I mean, crew."

The tall, muscular, coffee-skinned Capellan woman in Medical Blue nodded, but offered a wry grin. "That might be true, Sir... if we were two different people, who had not gone through what we have gone through together." She held out her own arms and embraced him.

He hugged her back, chuckling as he withdrew and noted her medical insignia. "And the Daughter of Kaas has finally achieved her goal and completed her qualifications! Quite a battle, studying while continuing your duties!"

She turned and prepared a hypospray. "The medical texts never knew what hit them, Sir. "

He chuckled. "Even with a tyrant like my replacement keeping you as busy as I'm sure she had?"

Eydiir's gaze narrowed in recognition of the banter as she returned to him. "Commander T'Varik was an exemplary Commanding Officer, Sir... but she could never replace you. No one could."

He grinned as she pressed the business end of the hypospray against his neck; his cubs, the original Alpha Squad, always knew how to give him Happy Tail. Then he brightened with inspiration. "A party! We need a party to celebrate! We can have cake and beer and cake and snacks... and cake!"

From the far end of Sickbay, Masterson's voice carried. "Y'all know I can still hear you, donchya?"

"It'd be an official ship function, Zeke," Hrelle called back jovially. "You can give me a medical dispensation!" Then he noticed the reaction on the young Capellan's face. "What's wrong?"

Eydiir looked uncomfortable. "Doctors Masterson, Shyrik and Kline already threw a party for me, Sir, a month ago, before we got the call to come to Cait and assist your people."

"Oh." His tail stopped wagging.

"I am sorry, Sir. We could of course throw another one for your benefit-"

"What? Mother's Cubs, no! That'd be extravagant and indulgent, bad for my waistline and embarrassing for you! Life Goes On, whether or not we're there to be a part of it." He held out a paw. "So instead I will offer you my sincere congratulations once more."

She accepted it. "Thank you, Sir. For everything."

Then he leaned in and asked, "I don't suppose you can get some Doctor's qualifications super quick, take over from Doc Cowpat and prescribe me a jumbo platter of shuris pieces?"

She offered a slight, sly smile. "And if -- when -- I do become a Doctor, do you think I'd behave any differently towards protecting your health, Sir?"

He grunted, his tail dropping again. "Hmph. I can't corrupt any of my Cubs."

*

He should have returned to his Ready Room to continue his catch-up work, but decided instead to do one more tour around the ship. Just to be sure that everything was where it was meant to be.

He ended up on the Bridge, frowning at the battle unfolding on the viewscreen, with Tholian Webships attempting to weave an energy lattice around the Surefoot.

Immediately he recognised it as a simulation, as Lt Bellator sat in his chair, staring intently ahead, giving orders, while Lt Shall sat beside them, offering guidance. He nodded to the others at their stations when they noticed him: Ensign Zir Dassene at Ops, Ensign Atiaro Thykrill at Tactical beside her, Petty Officer Arid Maf at Engineering, Lt Kitirik at Science and Lt Giles Arrington at the Helm.

Finally C'Rash, sniffing the air and catching his scent, rose and turned to face him. "Captain?"

Bellator practically bolted out of the chair as if propelled from it, the Nova Roman's normally sallow complexion turning almost as purple as their crop of hair. "Captain! Forgive me, this was not Lt Shall's doing! I insisted on taking the time during this shift to receive some informal Command training! I can assure you the sensors and alerts are all set to inform us of any genuine problems and-"

He raised a paw to stop their apology, not sure whether to be amused by their over-the-top response to his presence, or disconcerted that he might be perceived as some martinet who would go Supernova at something like this. He knew Bellator a little more than many of the other newcomers onboard, but they hadn't served long before he ended up stranded on Cait. "Settle down, Lieutenant, no need to fall on your sword. I have no problem with this, it's a productive use of everyone's time during these long, uneventful shifts." He smiled at the viewscreen. "Oh, look, we're dead."

All eyes turned to see the simulated Tholians' energy lattice shrink and crush the ship, as Zir ended the exercise, and the normal warp speed-dilated starfield returned to the viewscreen.

Bellator faced him again, their voice laced with anxiety. "Sorry, Sir! I can do better, I promise!"

You can hardly do worse, Cub... "I have no doubt, Lieutenant. Go ahead and reset the simulation." He smiled. "In fact, if you like I can sit in with you and give you a few tips on the real-life tussles I've had with the Tholians."

Both junior officers reacted to his suggestion, neither in a way Hrelle expected. Then C'Rash patted Bellator on the shoulder and approached her uncle, taking him to one side and dropping her voice to a whisper as she asked, "Captain, could I ask that you offer such guidance to them at another time?"

He frowned, his tail snapping behind him. "What's wrong? You think I don't have anything useful to offer, Lieutenant?"

She bristled, but to her credit stood her ground as she replied, "On the contrary, Sir, you'll be invaluable to them, to anyone who wants to learn how to command right... when they're ready for you. Bellator's not ready, not yet, they're still working out all the issues they had when you first recruited them.

Uncle Esek, in your absence you've become... legendary. Especially after everyone learned about what you did on Cait; you saved a whole fricking planet! Legends can be intimidating. Let them build up their confidence so they're not ready to wet themselves in your presence."

He glared at her... but then relaxed as he accepted the truth behind his niece's words, and admired the mature empathy she was showing her fellow crewmembers -- another development I missed out on while I was away...

He nodded and stepped back, announcing more loudly, "Well, I'm sorry, but I can't stick around here all evening, I have a planet's worth of catch-up work to get through in my Ready Room." To Bellator he added, "Lieutenant, what little I saw of your performance just now is very encouraging."

The non-binary junior officer flushed further. "Thank you, Sir! Thank you!"

He winked at C'Rash. "Carry on." Then he turned and entered his Ready Room, determined to settle down and continue catching up with the logs, the reports, the reviews, the news from Starfleet and the rest of the Galaxy...

"Reminder," the computer announced, "Your rescheduled Counseling session with Doctor Auger commences in ten minutes."

Hrelle grunted; the only reason the computer would remind him now was if the new Counselor had added the reminder, the cheeky bastard. "Computer: any word about my requested communications call with my family on Cait?"

"Negative; the local subspace relay network is still under maintenance and replacement."

"Hmph." He knew he should have asked Tattok to have their people work on the network the Ferasans had destroyed when they invaded. "Computer: Cancel the appointment with Counselor Auger, send him my apologies, but something urgent has come up."

One minute later, he had Weynik on the screen from his friend's own Ready Room on the Ajax, the Roylan being his usual supportive self. "Well, well, Wide Load, it's nice to see the chairs are still as sturdy as ever on your ship."

"And it's nice to see that you've finally had the screen camera adjusted so I can see more than just the top of your head. We all have to look at that scaly scalp more than enough already."

"Fleabag. How's life back onboard?"

"It..." He glanced around, finally able to open up to someone who wasn't under his command. "It feels strange, to be honest. Sometimes, it's like I've never left. Other times, it feels like I've dropped into a quantum reality that's almost identical to the one I remember, but not quite. New faces, new routines. Even the ship feels slightly different at high warp, with the recent changes to the warpfield harmonics."

Weynik nodded. "A new adjustment, to help counter the Breens' energy-dampening weapons."

"So I've learned... after embarrassing myself when I accused Chief Sakai of letting the efficiency slack. Not having Kami and the Cubs onboard isn't helping, either. And they've got some stranger doing my wife's job, too... as if anyone could take her place."

"Well, so long as you don't confuse the two, and take the wrong one to bed." Then his smile dropped, his black eyestalks drooping forward. "Seriously, though, Buddy, are you okay? I mean, really? You went through your Caitian Seven Hells on your homeworld. No one would blame you in the slightest if you needed more time off to get yourself back on track."

Hrelle smiled. "Thanks, Short Round, but I'll be fine once I get my space legs back. And what about Sasha? I tried to call her earlier, but I was told she was unavailable. You're not cracking the whip too much on her?"

"On the contrary, Chunky, I've had to tell her off for jumping in at the deep end too soon. She's got her own Counseling sessions to go through, and the EMH recommended she have some Quiet Time afterwards."

Hrelle frowned. "What? You're letting your Emergency Medical Hologram do the Counseling for her?"

"It's a small ship, Buddy, we don't have space to keep a real full-time Counselor onboard."

"But that bald bag of photons has all the empathy of a dynospanner! He'll have her quitting Starfleet!"

Weynik frowned, before chuckling. "Oh, you think we still use the Mark One EMHs. The Mark Threes are more relatable and comfortable to be with in comparison. And better looking, too."

Hrelle made a sound. We're up to Mark Three EMHs already? "Well, give her my love, and tell her to stay out of Horny Jail for a while."

Weynik chuckled, but then offered, "Hey, you want me to come over for a visit? We'll have a few beers and a game or six of poker, teach the Squabs and the junior officers a few things?"

Hrelle smiled back. "Thanks, but I do have a lot of work I've been putting off." He patted his belly. "And exercise. See you later, Little Buddy."

Weynik smiled back. "Take it easy, Hefty."

Hrelle stared at the now-black screen for a moment, before his stomach rumbled, and in a moment of inspiration, remembered his snack box under his desk. Bet you forgot about that, eh, Doc Cowboy-

It was gone.

Bollocks.

*

"Bollockss!" Kevin cursed, as sauce dribbled down from one end of his jumbo chilli cheese dog to splatter on his Hawaiian shirt. He set his snack down and reached for a napkin, dipping one end into a glass of water to dab at it. "Thiss iss my favourite bloody ssshirt!"

"It still is, technically." Sitting across from him, Hylore Waro's voice, filtered through her voder unit, offered a hint of sympathetic humour as she made adjustments to her environmental suit. As water drained down to let her remove her helmet, the Argoan pointed out, "Look at the colours you have on it already."

Alison Pagan, sitting beside her, grinned, taking in the rest of the room as the other Enlisted personnel were taking breaks between songs. "Besides, you keep charming the pants off Dylan the way you're doing, you won't be wearing it for long. Hope you've got some human-compatible lube if you don't want to leave him with a sore-" Then she stopped and looked at the other end of the table. "Sorry, Gyve."

The eyes of most of the rest of the Support Crew turned towards Sre Gyver Timbrel, the tall, gentle, black-skinned, black-maned equinoid from Paladel, who never avoided such group activities but whose religious beliefs restricted him to staying on the sidelines, drinking water and keeping an eye on his friends.