Surefoot 73: The Longest Day

K'Trierr faced Ma'Sala now. "Do you really expect me to believe that he wasn't acting on secret orders from you to protect your family, despite your earlier public show?"

Ma'Sala bared her teeth now, making the Minister step back instinctively. "I don't give a damn what you believe. But before you kick up too much of a fuss about this, remember: Sasha Hrelle is more than just my granddaughter. She is a decorated, popular Heroine of the Resistance, and a Kaetini Warrior, and Captain Nrari has saved her life. Do you really want the public to start to wonder why you would be so opposed to such an action?"

The Minister drew back, glaring at those around her. "I have better things to do than waste my time here."

Ma'Sala nodded back. "Yours, and ours. You know the way out."

Then she turned and went back to her office, to make that call home and pass on the good news, and then prepare to make a speech to the rest of the world.

*

USS Surefoot:

The clean up began, in preparation for the collection of the wounded.

In Sickbay 1, the medical team prepared the biobeds and equipment, Doc Masterson pointing to the supply closet. "Vashik! Scarlo! Get the antigrav gurneys ready and waiting! I have a feeling we're gonna be packed to the rafters before we're done!" He bumped into Auger. "Do ya mind, Doc?"

Auger glanced around. "How can I help?"

"Get to the Shuttlebay, the survivors will be transported there first. Many will be traumatised, they might be more injured than they're able to tell us."

Auger nodded and headed for the doorway, but not before stopping by Eydiir, who was readying the tricorders and sensor wands. "Nurse, if you need to talk later about the trauma of having killed today, I'll be available anytime-"

The Capellan looked to him incredulously... before recovering to reply with a more professional, "Thank you for your offer, Doctor, but your skills will be more valuable to others less accustomed to such trauma. And... I apologise for my earlier insolent tone with you."

"Forget about it."

"And for calling you a preening, smug, arrogant mountebank."

He frowned. "I never heard you say any of that."

"You were not present whenever I said it."

He regarded her... before chuckling as he departed.

Masterson waited until the Counselor was gone before joking, "You getting soft in your old age, Pardner?"

Eydiir shot him a dirty look, but added a more dry, "No doubt the company I keep around here is dragging me down."

*

In the Junction on Deck 3, the Support Crew finally lowered their weapons as the order was given to stand down.

Malala's arm ached. Her heart ached. She kept staring at the spots down the corridor where living beings once stood, before she obliterated them.

She slumped to her knees, her mouth dry, a cold numbness suffusing her small body.

Behind her, Alison leaned against the nearest wall, exhausted. "Did that... Did that all just happen?"

Kevin dropped his phaser. "I think I'm gonna bloody chunder."

"Me too," Hylore added. "And I don't want to know if my water suit can handle my vomit."

Valentin's breathing was quickening alarmingly, until Gyver approached, taking the phaser from him and helping him down to the floor, bending him forward. "Breathe through your nose, hold it for five seconds, and breathe out through your mouth."

Alison looked to him. "Thanks, Gyve. For your guidance during the fight."

The equinoid nodded to her. "As I stated before, I am here to serve." Then he moved to Malala, kneeling beside her and putting an arm around her. "Taking a life, no matter how necessary, is never easy, Mal. It is not meant to be. But you will move on."

She made a distant sound, still staring at nothing. "How long did it take you to move on, the first time you killed?"

He gently hugged her. "My first time was twenty minutes ago. I am still working on that. But perhaps we shall all work on that together."

*

In Engineering, Sakai watched his crew put away their weapons and return to their duties, inspecting the major systems and heding to make repairs to the damaged parts of the ship, as if the invasion had been some sort of exercise.

He was no Squab; he knew that it was not as simple as that, that they would all have to deal with this in the coming days and weeks -- or longer -- but that for now, they had to focus on their work. It was necessary, for their sakes; they were all much younger than him, they had decades of life in Starfleet ahead of them.

He didn't. After years of retirement, he signed up again to help with the staff shortages brought on by the War. He could return to a safer, simpler life once this War was over, where he wasn't seemingly constantly locked in a kill-or-be-killed situation..

And that was looking real good right now.

*

In the Shuttlebay, Zir didn't hear the orders, or the voices of the Security crew. She stood, twin phasers still in hand, waiting for more of the Enemy to kill.

They would keep coming. They would always keep coming. An endless stream of murderous scum that would threaten the only things she had left in this life. And she would keep waiting, and keep fighting-

"COME ON!" she screamed, her voice rebounding in the open space, waving the phasers around. "I'M WAITING FOR YOU BASTARDS!"

*

With nearly all of the active, combat-ready Armada vessels departed in pursuit of the remaining Dominion vessels, the area around the Cardassian Union border became a dark, cold graveyard: spaceframes, debris, shuttles, escape pods, distress buoys calling out into the void.

The active ships that remained banded together, pooling their sensors, their shuttles, their personnel in an effort to find, rescue and treat those who had survived today, keeping them alive until the larger hospital ships arrived from the neighbouring sectors to take them to the nearest planets and starbases.

One runabout, from the USS Wasp, passed closely over the wreckage of a Steamrunner-class cruiser. Lt Cmdr Harold Dubek, the runabout pilot and mission commander, glanced at the name of the cruiser -- the USS Redemption -- and asked over his shoulder, "Anything?"

Silence, but for the beeps of multiple scanners from the sensor crew's stations.

He nodded to himself. "Marking it as Dead, moving on-"

"Wait, Sir."

Dubek rolled his eyes, knowing that voice. "Yes, Mr Ostrow?"

"I don't think we should dismiss it too readily, Sir."

Dubek swivelled in his seat to look at the junior officer, a pale, silver-haired male of Terran origin who grew up in some remote part of the Federation. Ever since Ostrow and his Bolian wife had been assigned to the Wasp, Dubek had heard many things about the Wonder Child, as he liked to call Ostrow: an alleged genius with engineering and sensor systems, who had fought Giant Snake Assassins, deflected killer asteroids, been to other dimensions...

In Dubek's experience, however, such reputations were rarely justified, and half the stories he had heard about Ostrow and the rest of Hrelle's Cubs were almost certainly bilge. "Oh? And why is that, Lieutenant?"

Ostrow kept focused on his station, his fingers moving over the keyboard. "There's a lot of residual local subspace interference, as well as polaron radiation from the Dominion weapons. I've dealt with it before, it can affect sensor readings, especially in the biorange. It just needs a modification to the algorithms to compensate."

Dubek crossed his arms and sighed, glancing at his co-pilot, who rolled her eyes, before he responded, "Really, Mr Ostrow? Well, I shouldn't have to remind you that you're not a cadet any longer, and these attempts to impress us won't earn you any gold stars with me-"

A sensor alert appeared on everyone's board.

The rest of the crew turned as one, one of them reporting, "I'm picking up twenty-two lifesigns now! Deck 2, Conference Room! Minimal life support remaining!"

Dubek looked for himself, confirmed it. That was impossible; they weren't there a moment ago... He opened a channel. "Wasp! We've detected twenty-two lifesigns within the Redemption! We need additional runabouts at our location!"

"They're on their way. Good work, Dubek."

Dubek didn't answer, just closed the channel and rose to his feet, looking to Ostrow again, daring him to say something smug in reply.

Instead the younger man continued working, reporting, "I've added the algorithms to the transporters to strengthen the safety protocols as well, Sir."

Dubek stared; Ostrow had just improved their sensor and transporter capabilities, on the spot, just like that, and saved lives. And he just kept on working, not even stopping to say I Told You So. "Then let's get some of those people over here. It'll get crowded, but we'll manage."

Seconds later, figures beamed onto the open transporter pad at the aft of the runabout: unconscious Starfleet officers. The runabout crew moved over them with medical tricorders, including Ostrow, who looked to one survivor, a middle-aged Terran female with blonde hair and Nordic features. "Captain Arrington?"

Dubek knelt beside him. "You know her?"

Ostrow nodded. "We've met before. Actually, I assaulted her once, in order to save Captain Hrelle from a pack of Ferasans."

Dubek looked to the young man. And decided not to question the claim.

*

USS Surefoot, Sickbay 1:

Weynik lay on the biobed, looking even smaller and paler than usual to Sasha, as she stood in the rear out of the way, watching Masterson, Eydiir and others work on the sedated Captain... the stump where his leg was once attached now fixed with a stasis clamp, keeping it ready for a cybernetic or biosynthetic limb.

She still couldn't believe she had cut off his real one, no matter how necessary it had been-

"Lieutenant."

She turned, straightening up instinctively as she saw Admiral Tattok enter, followed closely behind by her Dad, both men looking over at Weynik on the biobed. "Sir... Sirs."

Tattok regarded his son meaningfully, before looking back at Sasha again. "Lieutenant, would you step outside, please?"

She glanced at her father, who offered nothing back, looking as haggard as she felt, but complied. It was a rare moment of relative quiet out here, though she knew it would soon change, as more casualties were ferried here. "How may I be of assistance, Admiral?"

Tattok looked up at her. "I suppose I could order you to stop being so tall, but that might be beyond even your exceptional capabilities. Firstly I wanted to thank you: thank you for saving my son, thank you for your efforts to keep as much of your crew alive as you could, thank you for your success in finishing off the Dominion Battleship."

She felt herself blush, and shifted in place. "I- I only did what I had to do, Sir."

His eyestalks rose up higher. "Clearly you get your modesty from your father... along with his superior leadership and tactical skills."

"Thank you, Sir, but perhaps Captain Weynik might have a different opinion about me, when he wakes up and sees what I did to him?"

The Roylan Admiral grunted. "Because of what you did to him, his children, and his parents, get to keep him around a little while longer. There's been far too much death on this battlefield, in this War. Let's grasp and cherish every life we manage to save.

But we all have too much ahead of us to waste time with florid speeches. Most of your surviving crew are now onboard the Surefoot; as senior ranking officer, you will be responsible for them until their disposition and the recovery of your commanding officer."

"Of course, Sir. I'll do my best."

He nodded. "I have no doubt. But you'll need some essentials tools for that task." He took a step to the left, looking up at Hrelle. "Captain, would you care to do the honours?"

"Thank you, Admiral." The Caitian stepped forward... looking to the confused Sasha strangely suffused with emotion as he straightened up formally. "Lieutenant Sasha Hrelle, for repeated acts of gallantry above and beyond the call of duty, it is my honour, pleasure and privilege to inform you that with immediate effect, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander, with all the rights and privileges this carries."

Sasha stared up, not quite sure she had heard correctly, even as she watched him open up a small black box hidden in his right paw, revealing a pair of black rank pips, before removing them and reaching up to attach them to either side of her collar, to sit beside each of the two gold pips representing her current rank of Lieutenant.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander Hrelle," Tattok announced, offering his hand.

Sasha turned to him in shock and accepted it, half-wondering if exhaustion had caught up with her and she was hallucinating. "Thank you, Sir. B-But... are you really sure about this? I know I saved Captain Weynik, but otherwise I don't know how deserving I am-"

"Lieutenant Commander," he interrupted. "For the record, this promotion isn't part of my thanks to you for saving my son. It's because you do deserve it. It's because you've proven yourself repeatedly that you're ready for it.

And because... we need you. We've lost so many good people today, and throughout this terrible War." He glanced up enigmatically at Hrelle. "When this is over, most of us will be leaving our comfort zones and taking on new responsibilities, and the junior ranks will have to rise along with the rest of us. Now, I'll leave you in Papa Cat's capable paws while I return to the Triton."

"You're... You're not staying, Sir?"

Tattok looked in the direction of Sickbay, as if he could see through the walls. "To do what? Stand helplessly as medical professionals help him? I'll be back when he awakes. In the meantime, I'm better off keeping busy with some very necessary work. If you'll excuse me...?"

"Thank you, Admiral." Hrelle said, and Sasha and he watched him depart, before Hrelle turned back to his daughter, smiling. "They look good on you."

She felt herself flushed. "You knew he was coming here to do that?"

"Not until he boarded ten minutes ago. Now he has to return to coordinate the efforts to collect and treat the survivors out here... and so do we. And you, too; we're getting all available shuttles and runabouts together to search the wreckage for survivors. I'll need you and anyone with pilot credentials from the Ajax."

She nodded, glad to be given something to do. "I'll get onto it now, Sir. If you'll excuse me...?"

"Not yet." Then he pulled her into a big embrace, rubbing the side of his muzzle against her face, as she hugged back, and he whispered, "I'm so proud of you, Daughter of Mine. I love you."

Quietly she murmured back, "I love you too, Dad."

"But," he added, "If you pull another stunt like you did with the Warhead, I'm gonna kick your ass so hard my leg will go numb."

She laughed against his shoulder. "Fair enough."

*

Shall Clanlands, Planet Cait:

Bneea entered the darkened study. "Kami? Are you okay? Everyone's asking about you downstairs."

His daughter rose to her feet and stepped away from the desk. "Yes. I was just speaking with Mama. She just confirmed that Esek, Sasha, C'Rash and T'Varik are all alive and well."

Bneea smiled and pulled her into an embrace. "Thank Mother for that! Everyone is alright!"

She tensed. "People have still died, and been hurt. Many people. Captain Weynik, one of Esek's oldest friends, lost a leg. Sasha was nearly killed blowing up an enemy warship. The rest of the Armada is now at Cardassia, but the Surefoot has remained behind with other damaged ships to help with the wounded."

He drew back a little, sober. "Do you think this might mean the end of the War?"

"It depends on the Dominion now. They could secure themselves on Cardassia, fight to the last man, make any victory for our side so costly..." She breathed out, her body tensing. "It can go on and on, and anyone who lives today might die tomorrow..."

Bneea stroked her mane, purring now as he spoke again. "I used to feel the same way, all those times your Mama was out there, defending the Motherworld... and then you, and Esek and the cubs. Hold fast to hope, Daughter of Mine."

Kami steadied herself, accepting the wisdom of her father's words. Then she wiped her muzzle. "Come on, let's tell everyone at the party the good news. Then I have a greater struggle ahead of me: convincing my overtired cub to let go of her new boyfriend and put her to bed without a fight..."

*

There was no day or night in space, of course; time was a malleable, interpretive thing.

The crew had no idea of how long they had been working, collecting and treating the wounded, moving those who survived to other ships for disposition, moving those who didn't to the Morgue... and then the refrigerated Cargo Bays when the Morgue filled.

Stopping at strange intervals for short naps and boosts of coffee. Few had any stomach to eat, even if the replicators weren't concentrating on drugs, medical equipment, cybernetic limbs.

Few even bothered acknowledging the passage of time since the cessation of battle, except for brief regards towards beards and body odour.

Until Captain Hrelle made a shipwide announcement.

"Captain to Crew: I know our work continues, but I thought you might want to hear this.

Five minutes ago, an agreement was signed on Deep Space Nine by representatives of the United Federation of Planets, the Klingon Empire, the Bajoran Republic, the Romulan Star Empire, the Cardassian Union, the Breen Confederacy, and the Founders of the Dominion.

Effective Stardate 52902.0, all hostilities by all armed forces under the command of each of the Alpha Quadrant and Gamma Quadrant powers are to be permanently ended.

All military forces of the Dominion and their allies are to withdraw from the Alpha Quadrant following the general ceasefire order, and all Alpha Quadrant territories presently under Dominion control, whether seized by force or by treaty, are to be returned to the control of the Alpha Quadrant powers. All borders, sovereignty, and ownership of affected territories are to revert to their status as of Stardate 50564.0.

The War is Over."

The crew, the wounded and evacuees, everyone on board, seemed to hold their collective breath.

Then they returned to their duties.

*

On the Bridge, Hrelle rubbed his eye sockets, fighting back the herd of shuris stampeding in his brain.

T'Varik, the only other person present, looked to him. "Get some sleep, Captain."

He shook his head, reaching for the cold remains of his coffee from his mug on the floor. "No, you go, you've been up longer than me."

"Yes, but I have superior stamina."

He glanced at her. "I'm too tired to even make a dirty joke about that."

"Given your natural predilection for ribaldry, that is an alarming illustration of your fatigue."

He grunted, tried to finish off his drink, failed with a grimace, and set it on the floor again, rising uneasily, swaying a little. "If any messages come through from anyone, about anything-"

She rose as well, looking annoyingly steady in comparison. "Then I will judge whether or not to awaken you."

He nodded, too tired to argue, before focusing on her. "We won."

"Barely."

"But we still won. And everyone we know survived. Yes, some of us, like Weynik, were injured. Others have wounds less visible, but no less traumatic. They'll need our help, too."

She turned to the viewscreen, to the fields of starships... or their remains. "And we will all be feeling the effects of this War for a long time to come, I fear, Esek."

He nodded at that... noticing her use of his first name while on duty. "There's an old Caitian saying: 'Nothing ever ends, it merely becomes something else'. As to what we will become after this... time will tell." He breathed out. "Oh, I'm definitely exhausted. Bed for me. And a shower later."