Surefoot 72: Blue Sunshine

"The Captain did not ask you to do that," T'Varik elaborated mildly. "He asked for your reasoning behind your change of decision."

"Oh, I- I thought-"

"We did not summon you here to punish you," the Vulcan added.

"I've had dinner -- such as it was -- so you're safe," Hrelle joked.

Bellator swallowed again, facing him, relaxing. A little. "Yes, Sir, Ma'am, it's true that I had every intention of having Mr Dellaport removed from Starfleet. However, the recent incident involving the Virotics has affected him, beyond the obvious physical effects. He approached me of his own accord, and apologised for his past behaviour, and promised that it would not repeat."

"And that was all it took to make you change your mind?" T'Varik asked, sounding a little incredulous.

"No, Ma'am. There was the fact that he did not ask me to change my mind about dismissing him, that he was fully prepared to accept the decision.

But also, I... I looked into his eyes. I saw the genuine regret he had about his behaviour. The... The same regret I've seen in the mirror, from my own past actions... something I've had to revisit again when I became infected with Blue Sunshine."

Now they faced Hrelle directly, feeling a wellspring of resolve rise up within them. "Sir, you and Ms T'Varik put me under your command, and offered me a chance at redemption. You have honoured me with your magnanimity, and I have observed how you treat others under your command, and have been inspired by it... and I hope I've fulfilled your expectations of me.

And I wanted to emulate such generosity of spirit, towards someone under my command." Now they straightened up. "And with respect to both of you, unless you order me otherwise, I will stand by my decision."

Hrelle glanced at T'Varik, before rising and walking around the desk, his tail swishing softly behind him as he faced Bellator. "There'll be no need for that. Command without Compassion is a bitter mixture. And as a matter of fact, Lieutenant, you haven't fulfilled our expectations. You've exceeded them. You show genuine, desirable leadership qualities." He offered his right paw. "And you have honoured us. Well done, Sextilis."

Bellator swallowed, staring up at the Caitian in disbelief.

Until he wiggled the fingers on his still-extended paw, and quipped, "My arm's getting tired from this starvation diet they've got me on."

They happily accepted the paw, with an uncharacteristic grin.

Hrelle smiled at T'Varik... and at Auger, who regarded him thoughtfully.

*

Dellaport shifted another few centimetres forward in the Shuttlebay, the vastness of the open space a contrast to the tiny degausser in his hands. It was cool in here, but he didn't want to stop and get a warmer jacket from his quarters. It would be forever and a day to finish the Lieutenant's list of additional tasks required if he was to remain in Starfleet, onboard. Don't think about it, Val, just do it. If nothing else, it keeps you out of trouble. Besides, your friends are probably sick of you-

He heard the doors leading to the rest of the ship open, but he never bothered to look behind him; crewmembers came in all the time, to run diagnostics or check on the runabouts or-

"Hi, Val."

Now he stopped and straightened up, frowning as if from the ache in his back and knees, though his pain was instantly eclipsed by confusion. "What are you guys doing here?"

Malala, Kevin, Alison, Hylore and Gyver stood there, in uniform despite their being off-duty, and carrying maintenance equipment identical to his own. Malala beamed at him as she took a position beside him on the floor, preparing her own tools. "Oh, I just took a course on Shuttlebay Floor Maintenance, and I have to do a practical exercise on it."

Dellaport stared at her incredulously, then turned as Hylore knelt down opposite him, the Argoan's breathing liquid clear enough to display the expression on her face as she began degaussing the floor before her. "I have to test the sensitivity of my suit to Engineering equipment."

"Guys..."

Alison knelt beside Hylore. "I'm writing a story about a Shuttlebay maintenance worker, so I need to know what it's like to use this tool."

"Seriously?" Dellaport asked, sounding both amused and appreciative.

Now Kevin stepped forward and joined the others, the Gorn announcing, "I losst a bet."

Dellaport looked around him in disbelief. "Guys, thanks, but really I don't think you should be helping me. It's supposed to be my punishment, after all."

"Who's helping you?" Malala retorted, unable or unwilling to drop the smirk from her face. "We all have legitimate excuses for being here."

The human finally looked to Gyver, who was preparing his maintenance gloves. "Isn't it against your religion to lie, Gyve?"

The black-hided equinoid nodded as he joined them on the floor. "I will not lie. I am here to help a friend with a task. And then we can all have our evening meal together."

Kevin hissed. "Bloody ssspoilssport. He'ss gonna think we actually like him."

*

The Roylan Admiral onscreen never had the most expressive faces, a typical feature of his people. Now, however, Hrelle could see a wealth of emotions on the aquamarine visage. "What's happening, Sir?"

Tattok's black eyestalks tilted down. "The Jem'Hadar have left Betazed, retreating to Cardassia."

Hrelle reacted; it was not exactly what he had expected to hear. "I'm assuming they're not running in fear of my return to duty."

"You assume correctly, Captain. The Dominion everywhere in the Quadrant are withdrawing, fortifying their borders there, giving themselves time to recover their numbers."

Beside Hrelle, just outside of Tattok's view, T'Varik and Weynik reacted. Hrelle understood their response. "We're not just gonna let them do that, are we, Sir? With their cloning facilities and Cardassian shipyards, they could be back to full force in weeks."

"Starfleet Command, and the Klingon and Romulan Empires are all in agreement on that. That's why we're not giving them that chance. We're all converging at Deep Space Nine, and from there launching the final offensive on Cardassia."

Mother's Cubs... "The combined forces of Starfleet and the Klingon and Romulan fleets... it'll be the biggest collection of vessels ever seen in the Quadrant."

Tattok nodded. "Facing the Jem'Hadar, the Breen and the Cardassian fleets. From this point onward, Communications are restricted to intership; no outside transmissions are to be sent or received."

Hrelle ground his teeth, though his acute disappointment at not being able to see or hear Kami and their family before going into battle was eclipsed by the confirmation that this was it: Armageddon, as described in Terran myth, the final battle between good and evil. One way or another, the damned War was going to be decided at Cardassia.

How many of them will survive was another story.

*

Five minutes before the Communications blackout, Dr Auger was in his office, on a secure comlink with the woman who ensured he was assigned to the Surefoot. "I'm not sure what I'm allowed to tell you, Admiral... Medical Confidentiality and all that."

"I'm not interested in confidential information. I've seen his record, talked to people who have worked with him, heard about what he did on his homeworld. Come on, Alex. Give me your impression of the man."

Auger reached for his coffee mug and leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowing pensively. "Captain Hrelle is the most paternal commanding officer I've ever met... and the most resilient. He has been through Hell, has been burned thoroughly when he was there, but still keeps striding forward, and has learned to balance being a family man and a Captain. He's equal parts strong and gentle, gifted and humble, humorous and indomitable. I think the only thing he ever has a real problem managing is his waistline.

But the real reflection of any Commanding Officer is in the people under them. And the people under Captain Hrelle would do anything for him. There's a Vulcan here who was practically ready to punch me for disrespecting him! It goes beyond Starfleet loyalty, beyond the camaraderie that builds up among crews during War. It's a rare gift. Together, they can achieve anything they set their minds on."

The Admiral nodded. "Thank you, Alex."

"I owed you one." Auger sipped at his drink, before confessing, "I'd still like to know what interest you have in Captain Hrelle."

Admiral Marija Raner, Chief of Starfleet Security, offered a rare smile. "Yes. I'm sure you would."

THE ADVENTURES OF THE SUREFOOT WILL CONTINUE IN... THE LONGEST DAY