Surefoot 74: Compilation

"Yes, Sir; he requires my help to be extricated from a potentially harmful situation. However, I would not wish to jeopardise your standing with Starfleet Command through any actions on my part-"

"Carry on."

"Commodore, you do not yet know-"

"I don't need to know. I trust you. And if it involves helping a cub..."

She nodded, rising. "Thank you. If you will excuse me for a moment, I must consult my wife on this matter."

He waved her off. "Fine, leave us poor working stiffs to do all the work."

She raised an eyebrow. "You should know that I located and disposed of the second secret snack stash you had prepared and hidden behind the couch, in case you go seeking it in my absence."

He told her what he thought of her actions.

She remained unfazed. "Clearly your promotion to flag officer has not improved the quality of your profanity."

*

Sasha had been in her temporary quarters on DS9 with Mori when she received the incoming alert, and pushed aside her meal to read, expecting another enquiry or transfer request from one of the crew.

It wasn't.

Mori had come from the sonic shower when he noticed her change of scent and mood. "What is it?"

She leaned back in her chair, rereading the text. "My Dad has secured us a ship: the USS Katana, Sabre-class, one of the former ambulance ships left behind."

"That's great." Then he asked, "Isn't it?"

"We're apparently going to be part of a Squadron helping him in Salem Sector." She kicked back her chair and rose to her feet, walking around the quarters like a caged animal, running her fingers through her short crop of dirty blonde hair.

"I'm not familiar with that part of space," Mori admitted warily.

"I am... Salem was the place I told you about, where I grew up."

"Mother's Cubs," the Caitian breathed out. "That's the place? Oh Sash, I'm sorry!"

"Yeah. I remember every deck, every Jefferies Tube. I remember the people my Mom worked with. And I remember the day Mom died, and everyone was trying to find a way to break it to me. Now I get to be constantly reminded of that. Every. Single. Fucking. Day. I'm there."

"What are you going to do?"

Get so drunk I could be legally classified as an alcohol-based lifeform... "I..."

She returned to her desk and sat down again.

She felt Mori's eyes on her. "Your Dad- Captain Weynik-"

She opened one of the outstanding tasks: they needed a Counselor, preferably a organic one instead of the EMH they had relied on while on the Ajax. "I know my Dad, and he knows me; he wouldn't have set this up if he could help it. And Weynik isn't in any state of mind to deal with this... or anything else, right now."

"Can I help in any way?"

Get a crate of whiskey in... "Yes, put some clothes on, go find Chief Maryk and Jim Madison, access the report I'm sending to your account on the state of the Katana, and plan a course of action to get our new ship up and running as soon as possible, as per Commodore Hrelle's orders. I need a list of necessary parts and supplies within an hour."

"Of course, Sash. Everything's going to work out."

She nodded absently without looking away from her work, not believing it.

Fuck me sideways, what the Hell am I doing, shouldering all this myself?

*

In the Command Quarters on the Surefoot, Sreen looked up at her favourite childminder with delight. "Giva! Giva Go Go!"

Gyver knelt down to her level, letting the infant reach out and pat the tip of his muzzle, while Misha clung to the equinoid's back. "Yeah! Let's go! Daventure awaits!"

Kami looked up from the desk. "Misha, Mr Timbrel is not a ride, show him some respect. Mr Timbrel, don't let him take advantage of you."

The Paladel secured Sreen in her chair. "Rest assured, Madame Counselor, I will be as strict with him as his father is."

Kami smirked. "That doesn't fill me with much confidence. Tell me, have you given any thought to remaining in Starfleet?"

Gyver straightened up, Misha still clinging to him. "I have... but I have reservations about the nature of the work I may be asked to perform."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I may be a proficient warrior, but I am also a most reluctant one."

The Counselor turned to face him. "Something else you share in common with my husband. Do you like taking care of cubs?"

He smiled, adjusting the bag with the cubcare paraphernalia over his free shoulder. "I do indeed, Madame Counselor. To nurture and teach children is among the highest of services. And yours seem to like me."

"So I've noticed. You'll already be aware that my husband has been promoted, and is taking command of an outpost; I'm assisting him in personnel reassignment. There will inevitably be other young people besides mine there, in need of dedicated teachers and minders. If you're willing to complete some required qualifications, do you think you might wish to work in that area?"

"Most assuredly, Madame Counselor."

Kami smiled. "I'll see what I can do for you, then. In the meantime, please help the furry little wart on your neck burn off some energy in the Holodeck."

Misha leaned closer to Gyver's pointed right ear and whispered, "I'm the wart."

"So I gathered, my charge. I have designed a new holoprogram, full of climbing bars for you, and soothing music and colours for your sister. Let us go... and, thank you again, Counselor."

She waved them off. "Many people are being assigned now to positions and places they wouldn't necessarily choose if they can help it. I'm happy to help someone towards a desired role-" Her combadge chirped. "Counselor Hrelle."

A crisp British accent responded. "Counselor, this is Dr Bashir on Deep Space Nine. One of your patients in our Recovery Centre is causing problems again."

Kami's tail twitched. "Captain Weynik?"

"Yes, the Roylan with the new leg. He's fully recovered, but refuses to get up, refuses to eat, is abusive to his visitors. As you're listed to be contacted at such times-"

She rose to her feet. "Thank you, Doctor. I'm on my way."

*

TRACK 08 - I WILL SURVIVE

Deep Space Nine Medical Section:

He stared ahead, perfectly still. He knew how to do that. His people's dermal flexibility was not as great as most other humanoids; they were said to be naturally deadpan, an evolutionary holdover from their piscine ancestry, when one had to blend into the surrounding reefs and avoid predators.

He wasn't trying to avoid predators anymore. He wasn't even enamoured with the drab Cardassian architecture around him.

His mother, Professor Tallus, stood there, looking furious -- for a Roylan, anyway. "Weynik, you can't keep lying here, ignoring everyone, and then yelling at anyone who tries to get too close! Your children are missing their father! Naida is old enough to know something's wrong, she keeps asking questions!"

She drew closer.

He turned to her sharply, hissing, "Don't."

She paused, her eyestalks dipping to him. "Weynik, I know what happened to you took its toll on you... you need to open up, talk about it."

He looked away again. "No. I don't. Tired. Just want to lie here."

"You've been lying here for days! You have a new leg, you can walk, you can resume duty-"

"Go away."

"Your father is worried about you- he's wanted to visit you again, but-"

"But he has affairs of Starfleet to consider, doesn't he? Always busy. Always too busy."

"That's not fair-"

The door slid open, and Weynik turned just enough to see that it was Sasha, before he turned back again. She stopped as she saw Tallus. "Oh, sorry, Professor, I didn't know Captain Weynik had company."

The older Roylan female glanced in her son's direction. "If you ask your Captain, I think he'll tell you I'm more a source of discomfort than comfort. Assuming you can get a civil word out of him." She turned and left.

Sasha watched her leave, before turning back to Weynik, clearly hesitant. He understood why, given his lack of response to her the last time she had come, trying to coax him out of this room. "Captain... how are you feeling?"

He stared ahead.

She drew a little closer. "Good news: my Dad's found us a new ship, and a new mission. It's the Katana: Sabre-class, one of the ambulance ships like the Surefoot. Its Captain had suffered plasma burns during an overload, and the crew are being reassigned to other ships, or will be supplementing ours." She made a sound. "The Sabres have pretty much the same engines and infrastructures as the Defiants like the Ajax, so even Chief Maryk can't complain about it. Though I'm sure she'll try." She smiled.

He stared ahead.

"Captain," she continued, more soberly now. "I... I never did tell you how sorry I was about losing the Ajax... and about what I had to do to your leg-"

Now he looked at her. "Sorry? Why?"

She blinked, flushing in that revealing way humans do without realising it. "Well... you know- you know I didn't have a choice-"

"Why are you sorry? Look what it's earned you: a promotion from my father. Maybe if you'd found a way to take off my arm too, you could have made Full Commander."

She swallowed, clearly not sure if he was joking or not. "Sir, I- I wanted to go over our basic mission parameters with you. Dad gave me the mission pack-"

"'Dad'? Is that the correct way to address a superior officer when you're discussing Starfleet business, Lieutenant Commander?" he snapped.

Sasha stiffened. "You're right, of course, Sir. I mean Commodore Hrelle-"

"Commodore Hrelle," he echoed, adding a tint of nasty derision. "I bet he's really enjoying himself now. He can go to the Flag Officers' Buffets with my father. Be pals. He'll probably see more of my father than I ever have."

She breathed in, visibly struggling to find a new approach with him -- Good luck with that, kid, the doctors and nurses and Counselors and relatives they've sent me have all tried and failed -- before she steeled herself. "Captain, as your First Officer I have a duty to the crew and to you-"

"MY FIRST OFFICER?" he shouted now, looking at her... in time to see the door open, and Kami enter. He ignored her, focusing on the young human. "That was a very temporary posting, under very temporary conditions! I did it because I had no choice! Do you honestly think I'd let some mentally unstable child, a reckless, homicidal, suicidal alcoholic, a pathetic Daddy's Girl with delusions of being Caitian, hold any real position of authority on any command of mine if I can help it?"

Kami stepped up, resting a supportive paw on Sasha's shoulder as she fixed a resolute gaze on Weynik. "That's enough, Captain." To Sasha she added softly, "He doesn't mean any of this."

"Yeah, go on," he sneered, seeing the broken expression on Sasha's face. "Listen to your new mother. The one you had replace your real, dead one. When was the last time you gave her a second thought? I wonder what she'd think of the pitiful emotional wreck her daughter's become?"

Sasha was trembling now, but she reached up, removed Kami's touch and told Weynik, "I'll- I'll come back later when you're ready to discuss our next mission, Sir."

"Take your time. Maybe there's some crewmembers from the Ajax you haven't screwed yet?"

She turned on her heels and stormed from the room. Kami stood there, staring hard, her tail still. "You're going to regret lashing out at her like that."

He looked away again. "Oh? Is she gonna sic Papa Cat on me? If she can't fight her own battles without her Daddy in her corner, maybe she should quit Starfleet?"

"She would never tell Esek about this. Neither would I. I mean that once you've begun to see sense again, you'll be kicking yourself over letting your pain express as venom against everyone around you."

"Well, Counselor, thanks to this..." He reached down and slapped the thigh of his biosynthetic leg. "Maybe I can kick myself now. I hear it does amazing things. Some other time, perhaps."

"When?"

"When it's not hurting."

She folded her arms across her chest. "It doesn't hurt you."

"Oh, an expert on pain now, are we?"

"Yes, actually; neurology plays a part in Counseling."

He kept staring ahead. "I'm tired. I don't need visitors, I don't need doctors or therapists or do-gooders or well wishers. I just want..."

"You want to get busy dying," she prompted.

"What?"

"From an old Terran Vivid I saw. 'Get busy living, or get busy dying'. Wise words, even almost four centuries after they were spoken. As much you might want to let your trauma restrain you, keep you in this room, on that bed, safe and unlikely to be hurt again... you can't. And the longer you listen to your trauma, the harder it'll be for you to shake it off."

"Get out."

"You're not alone, Weynik. Not in being someone who has been traumatised by this War, nor in being someone with people around him, loved ones who care for him-"

He looked at her again. "How dare you come in here and try to lecture me? You're a sorry excuse for a Counselor, let alone a wife and mother! Esek's gonna eat himself into an early grave, Sasha's a self-destructive addict with race identity issues, Misha's nearly been killed more than once because you couldn't control him... and you couldn't even produce an able-bodied daughter of your own!"

But Kami just stood there, regarding him, showing no reaction to his words, to his attempts to drive her away along with everyone else, and leave him to his pain. Damn her.

It only enraged him further. "What's it going to take to get you the Hell out of my room?"

She shrugged. "When you get up and show me to the door like a gentleman. Make that first step. That first step is going to be the most difficult for you. Not physically, but mentally. Because it finally starts the chapter in your life when you must acknowledge that you lost your original leg and received a replacement. That through no fault of your own, your life as you knew it was over, and a new one has begun.

I told Esek yesterday that true strength isn't illustrated by what we can take without getting knock down, Husband of Mine. True strength is illustrated by our rising again after we're knocked down."

He spat. "Esek was right about you: you are a smug, sanctimonious, insufferable, opinionated qanciq!"

"That last word didn't translate, but I'll assume it's accurate."

"You know he wishes he never married you, don't you?"

She smirked. "I'm sure you've heard people say that your new leg will be just as good as the old one, that you'll soon be back to your old self." She shook her head. "You won't be. There's no turning back the clock. Forever more, you will be different to the Captain Weynik before the battle, before losing his leg. But that's not a bad thing, either. We cannot control life changing us, only how we respond to those changes."

He looked away. "Fuck off."

He could practically hear her smile. "Now I'm getting through to you..."

*

Back on the Surefoot, T'Varik entered the Bridge and approached C'Rash, at her Tactical station supervising the receipt of quantum torpedoes. "Lieutenant, if I may speak with you privately?"

The coal-furred Caitian female shrugged and followed her partner into the Ready Room, noting, "What's up, Captain Marmalade?"

T'Varik suppressed her initial reaction, audible to Ensign Thykrill on the bridge just before the doors slid shut. "A family crisis has arisen on Vulcan, which compels me to make a significant decision, one that will affect both of us. You recall my sister Nivor's son, Shrithik?"

C'Rash leaned against the desk, folding her arms. "Sure. Nice cub. What about him?"

"My brother Pedalk has sent an urgent communiqué. Srithik ran away from home last week."

The Caitian's ears twitched. "I'd be shocked, if I hadn't already met his kussik of a mother. Is he safe?"

"Yes... but after he was located and returned to her, Nivor has responded by arranging to take him to the Monastery of T'Klaas, to live and be trained in the discipline of Kolinahr."

"Never heard of it."

"It is an extreme, fringe practice, rarely sought out anymore by Vulcans. Those who successfully complete Kolinahr training are permanently purged of their emotions. Some believe it makes them quintessentially Vulcan. I believe it makes them little better than Borg drones. His curiosity, his compassion, his empathy, all of those qualities that make him who he is and more will be forcibly burned away from him."

An almost subliminal growl escaped from C'Rash. "Can she really do that to her own cub? Can your brother do anything about it?"

"It is almost unheard of to submit minors to this, but Nivor is obviously using her political power to gain what she desires, and I fear Pedalk will not have the influence or authority to successfully challenge her actions. C'Rash... I wish to take custody of him, and have him live with us, or at least in our proximity, until he becomes an adult. I accept that this is an important decision that deserves thought, but time is critical-"

"Then you'd better shake your peachy ass and save the cub," her partner replied.

T'Varik blinked. "Caitians are not known for long deliberations."

C'Rash shrugged. "We have instinct. He won't be sleeping in our bedroom with us, will he?"

The Vulcan frowned. "Of course not. He will have his own sleeping quarters."

"You'd better make them soundproofed. You're going to be busy making this up to me, Captain Marmalade, and I expect you to be making me howl."

T'Varik reached up, pressing her fingertips against the side of C'Rash's face and muzzle, opening up their psychic bond enough to provide graphic assurances of how grateful she will be.

*

It was slightly busier in Quark's when Sasha stormed back in, not caring that it was a familiar Ferengi drawing up to her from behind the bar. "You're infatuated with me. It's the only possible reason you keep coming back and not drinking."

She took a seat. "I'm drinking now. Romulan Ale, Double."

"Coming right up." He reached under the bar where she sat, never taking his gimlet eyes off of her. "Twelve percent, and that's my final offer. I'm drawing the line, this far, no further."

"No."

"Okay, fifteen percent."

She grunted; he was consistent, if nothing else. She felt herself shaking still from Weynik's verbal assault on her. Yes, she was savvy enough to know that he was in pain, was striking out so as not to face what happened to him. But, FUCK, Captain, did you have to be so tactical in your strikes?

Jeez, Sash, it's been relentless: the battle, amputating her commanding officer's leg, her near death, her promotion, Dad being assigned back to Salem, her being assigned back to Salem, all of this... it was too much...

Quark produced a tall, thin bottle filled with electric blue liquid, and removed the stopper. "Okay, Lieutenant Commander, all joking aside: you obviously need someone to talk to. Who better than a bartender?"

She shrugged. "A Counselor, a doctor, a rabbi, a mugato, a brick..."

The Ferengi chuckled... but then seemed to sober up as he poured the ale into a tumbler. "You've seen and done things no one should ever have had to... and not just during this damn War either, I expect.

It feels like your whole life has been a trial, hasn't it? And why you? What did you do to deserve this injustice? And the Universe expects you to keep taking it, without respite. It's not fair." He pushed the tumbler in her direction.

Sasha stared down into the liquid. He has a point, Sash. It's Day 29 of a self-imposed thirty-day abstinence that few know about and even fewer care about. You can stop now, you've proved yourself.