Surefoot 75: The Lion of Salem

Maybe.

*

"Captain?" Macready prompted.

In his chair on the Bridge, Hrelle made a sound and turned to look at the closest thing he had to a home now: Station Salem One, sitting in the black space between systems at the heart of the sector, looking like a giant industrial spinning toy, fitted with a sensor and communications tower on top and a configurable drydock mesh on bottom -- a mesh now surrounding the long, modular shape of an ore freighter. "Who's that?"

Macready checked his station. "Designated the Disuk, Vulcan registry, originally bound for Scesity for the latest mineral consignment." After a pause and more checking, he elaborated, "They were apparently attacked by an unidentified group of raiders outside of the Scesity system, and managed to escape, damaged."

"When did this happen?"

Hrelle caught the slight change in his friend's scent as he checked again, looking over at the Ops station. "The Disuk reported to Salem One over six hours ago. The intel was forwarded to us at that time."

Hrelle rose to his feet, eyes fixed on Ensign Lucas Dacosta at Ops. "Ensign, you were on duty when this came through. Why didn't you flag this up immediately?"

The shockingly young-looking Brazilian man, with smooth coffee-skinned cheeks and guileless hazel eyes, turned in his chair, clearly feeling the attention of everyone on the Bridge on him, as he swallowed. "Sir, I- I didn't think it was that urgent-"

"Not that urgent?" Macready straightened up and stepped forward. "And how did you arrive at that decision?"

Now the junior officer began to sweat. "I- S-Sir- The attack had already happened, and- and we were on our way here anyway- we- we couldn't have helped-"

"You're relieved," Hrelle responded simply.

Dacosta swallowed, glancing at Macready, as if the other man might intervene. But the XO's response was simply, "Report to your quarters. I'll be along presently."

Dacosta nodded and rose, looking shaky on his feet as he faced Hrelle. "S-Sir, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"I said you were relieved, Ensign," Hrelle growled, his glare unwavering and his teeth bared.

The young human almost stumbled over his own feet as he made a wide path around the senior officers and moved to the doors leading off the Bridge. Hrelle ignored Macready's approach as he looked to another officer. "Mr Barrymore, take over at Ops, contact Salem One, forward my apologies for the lack of response until now and request a full Security report on the raid." Now he faced Macready, who was practically in his face. "What, Commander?"

The human's face was sympathetic, his voice confidential. "Dacosta's a Squab, fresh out of the Academy, he only joined us two weeks ago, and his decision would have been acceptable on many other ships. We've all screwed up at his age. Remember what you told me about that incident on the Charleston when you stopped at Argelius-"

"Yes," he interrupted quickly, feeling embarrassed at the memory Macready dredged up. He still felt anger at such a stupid mistake from Dacosta... but acknowledged, at least to himself, that it was a mistake. And not the worst thing to happen.

"I'll be in my Ready Room awaiting the report," he finally decided, "And arranging a meeting with the Commissioner and Station Chief. Give the crew shore leave, but tell them to enjoy themselves while they can, we might need to leave again at short notice. You deal with Dacosta; I'm not interested in running a training vessel." As he turned away, he ordered over his shoulder, "And make sure that Station Engineer, whatever her name is, doesn't put our needs on the back burner."

Macready never bothered to hide the amusement in his voice. "'Whatever her name is', Sir? You knew it well enough only yesterday."

Hrelle left him with a growl.

*

The images of the attack on the Disuk from the freighter's sensor logs replayed on the viewscreen in the conference room on Salem One, no longer watched by the Station Master. Captain Ruth Sternhagen was a large-framed, middle-aged Terran woman with dark truculent hair peppering with grey, and a hangdog expression that Hrelle appreciated. And in the absence of Commodore Soldermann, currently at a conference on Marcos XII, Sternhagen was the nearest high-ranking peer. "Opinion, Hrelle?"

Hrelle leaned back in his chair, looking up at the small, sleek cuneiform-shaped raiders. "They're new to the Sector, but the designs are reminiscent of older Tholian models."

"But they're definitely not Tholians themselves?" asked Federation Commissioner Xaden Rorx, a squat Bolian male who acted like he carried the weight of the station on his blue shoulders despite only having arrived there. "Making an incursion into our space?"

"No, Commissioner; we're far too distant from the Tholian Assembly to be included in even one of their arbitrary border adjustments. And the weapons and attack patterns displayed by these Raiders against the Disuk aren't Tholian. Nor are they Kzinti, Paserak, Nist..." He frowned.

Sternhagen noticed. "What is it, Captain?"

He raised his paw to the screen. "The Disuk was on its way to Scesity when it was attacked, not away from it."

"So?"

"It was empty. They would have realised it, it was obvious. Why attack it beforehand? Wouldn't it have been more profitable for them to wait until they picked up the ore shipment, and then steal a full ship? And why let it escape damaged, and not simply destroy it?" He looked to Sternhagen. "What have we heard from the Scesity colony?"

"They acknowledged our report about the attack on the Disuk, but that was it."

Hrelle frowned further.

Now it was Rorx's turn to ask, "What, Captain?"

He turned to the Bolian. "The mining colony's contracts, their bonuses, are based on delivering their goods, on time. And they didn't kick up a fuss about when the freighter would be repaired, or when a replacement might be on its way?" He shook his head. "I'm heading over there, to investigate the area... and the colony."

Rorx nodded. "And I'll be accompanying you, Captain."

"That won't be necessary, Commissioner."

"As the newly-appointed Federation Representative for this sector, I must disagree. I was planning on visiting Scesity and other industrial colonies anyway to greet the Governors and Administrators." He smiled. "Don't worry, I don't need the Presidential Suite."

Hrelle hesitated, glancing at Sternhagen, who offered a wry look of sympathy, though her own role meant she spent far more time in the company of the bureaucrat than Hrelle ever did.

And Hrelle could hardly refuse the Commissioner; Starfleet worked on behalf of the Federation, after all, not the reverse, and it wasn't exactly an emergency situation where he could override the civilian authority. "Good, Commissioner, because we don't have a Presidential Suite. But we should leave right away." He tapped his combadge. "Hrelle to Furyk: recall the crew from shore leave, prepare for immediate departure."

There was a pause, and Macready's voice responded, "Sorry, Captain, no can do. The Station Engineering Team have already begun removing the EPS grids for the upgrade, as per your orders; it'll take a minimum of eight hours for them to degauss the systems and reinstall the replacements."

Hrelle grit his teeth. "That's not good enough, Commander!"

"I understand, Sir, but you might have to explain that to the Station Engineer."

He glanced at Sternhagen again, who just shrugged, clearly not getting involved in this. "Where is she?"

*

"Commander!"

Hannah Eismann had her back to Hrelle as he approached. She was standing near the airlock leading to the Furyk, checking her PADD and conversing with several of her crew. They noticed the Caitian's approach, and backed away a little, but their superior chose not to react, until he was almost upon her.

Then she turned, the petite, shapely, pale-skinned woman with dirty-blonde hair looking up at him. "You're Welcome, Captain."

He stopped in his tracks, reining in the tirade he had about to launch on her. "Excuse me?"

She never lost a beat, handing the PADD back to one of her people and dismissing them. "I said You're Welcome, Captain. I'm assuming you were coming here to thank me for the rush job we're doing to get those EPS grids replaced for you. 'Emergency Priority', I believe was in the communications from your ship."

Hrelle swallowed... momentarily distracted by her scent, a pleasing musk, something he was certain he never noticed from her in prior interactions. "Yes, well, we need to leave now, so you can put the old grids back on, we'll make do with them until we return."

She shook her head. "No."

He reared up instinctively. "I beg your pardon, Commander?"

Eismann remained deadpan as she replied, "Oh, forgive me, I forgot myself: No, Sir. You see-"

He couldn't believe the attitude he was getting from her, and he was leaning in, baring his teeth as he cut her off. "And what if I went to your superior and informed her of your insubordinate attitude?"

She looked up at him, crossing her arms, completely unintimidated. "Then I would explain to Captain Sternhagen, as I'm trying to explain to you now, that the T-113 EPS Grids have safety deadlocks that neutralise their conductive linings once they've been removed from the housings, to prevent outdated ones from ever being reused. The moment we removed the old grids from the Furyk, they became as useful as a hairbrush for a Bolian.

We will install the new grids as quickly as possible, Captain, Sir... within safety guidelines. But unless you're gonna tell me that the Galactic Core is exploding and the only one who can stop it is you and your scraggly mane, I'm not going to put my people or your people at risk by recklessly rushing things. And if that's still a problem for you, Captain, Sir, then I respectfully invite you to kush meyn toches."

Hrelle drew back, feeling like he had been belted by a Gorn on cordrazine. And the more he took in the truth of her words, the more he realised how much he deserved her attitude. And though he had reservations about what might be happening at Scesity with those Raiders, he also accepted that there was no obvious emergency requiring others to take needless risks, He stepped back, swallowing. "My apologies, Commander. Of course, maintain all the safety guidelines necess-" Then he stopped and frowned. "'Scraggly'?"

Now she smiled, with genuine amity, as she unfolded her arms and indicated his mane. "Yes, scraggly. Did you go backwards through a hedge to get it looking like that?"

"Hmph. I'll have you know this look inspires terror in pirates and smugglers."

"And hairstylists too, I'll bet. What are you doing for dinner?"

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Dinner. Supper. The Evening Meal. The After Hours Feedbag. Caitians do eat, don't they?"

Hrelle smiled. "Food is one of our chief pleasures." Then he frowned again. "Why?"

"I don't know. You're the Caitian, you should know your own people-"

"No, I mean why are you asking me out?"

Eismann regarded him, before smirking. "I hope you don't think this is a date or something, Captain, Sir. In fact, I might even bring a chaperone with me. No, I just realise we've been butting heads since I came here, and I just wanted to stop... rubbing your fur the wrong way."

He blinked, seeing her skin flush a little as she realised where her words took her. But she still continued.

He smiled back. "I'd like that. Know any good places to eat?"

"Oh, we have an embarrassment of riches on Salem One: hobnobbing in the Executive Lounge on Deck 3, or slumming with the plebs in the Starjammers Café on 4."

"Oh, it has to be the Starjammers; I always feel like I have to be on my best behaviour in the Lounge."

The human's smirk blossomed into a smile. And a damned enticing one too. "Well, in that case I'll definitely have to bring a chaperone with me. I'll meet you there at 1800 Hours; I'll make sure you can depart by midnight. You make sure you run a brush through that rat's nest on your head."

Then she turned and departed down the airlock to his ship to join her crew.

He watched her leave, admiring her figure from the rear, before he realised he was drawing attention to himself. Then he turned, tapping his combadge. "Hrelle to Macready: we'll be leaving again at 0000 Hours, so inform the crew we'll have to cut shore leave short this time. Also, inform Commissioner Rorx's office. Prepare our guest quarters for him."

Macready's voice responded. "Aye, Sir. And have you sorted out that lazy, good-for-nothing Commander Eismann and reminded her of who's the Lion of Salem Sector?"

Hrelle frowned. "Mr Macready, I'll remind you that Commander Eismann is a respected and talented Station Engineer, and we should be immensely grateful for all the hard work that she and her crew do on our behalf, so I won't have you-" He paused. "Where are you right now?"

"I'm at the other side of the airlock," he replied cheerfully. "With Commander Eismann."

Hrelle looked out through the observation window at his ship, connected to Salem One by the secured tunnel, and saw Macready and Eismann. Eismann waved to him. "Can she hear-"

"Every word, Captain," Eismann finished over the combadge link helpfully.

The Caitian ground his teeth. "Carry on. Hrelle out." He closed the channel, and then turned and ventured to the station's Commissary to get some new brushes for his mane, and give Macready and Eismann a chance to move on and not be around at the airlock when he returned for a shower and change of uniform.

*

As it turned out, Eismann -- dressed in casual clothes now, making him feel a little too formal -- meant her threat to bring a chaperone. "Captain Hrelle, I'd like you to meet my daughter Sasha."

She stepped aside, revealing a child of about six or seven years, dressed in something similar to a burgundy Starfleet utility jumpsuit, with a bob of honey-blonde hair, pixie nose, narrow chin... and a piercing, challenging glare from her icy blue eyes.

Hrelle controlled his initial reaction. He hadn't lied to his First Officer; he was different from most Caitians in not being particularly comfortable around cubs of any race, and was secretly pleased that his ship wasn't one of those new ones that were big enough to allow families. But there was something about this particular cub that was different from the others, though he couldn't work out why.

He bent down slightly and held out his paw. "Delighted to meet you, Sasha."

The girl stood there, crossing her arms and scowling.

"Sash," Eismann intoned warningly.

Sasha unfolded her arms and accepted his paw, her own hand so small in comparison with his, and then quickly withdrew it like Hrelle's had been on fire.

Hrelle straightened up again, looking to the girl's mother. "I hope I'm not intimidating her."

Eismann made an amused sound. "What, my daughter? No, nothing intimidates her... except the idea that I might be out enjoying myself, because apparently I'm not allowed a life after her father passed." Now she glanced down at her. "And if she keeps acting this way, she can stay home and I'll call for a babysitter."

"Not a baby," the cub declared, still glowering with suspicion at Hrelle.

Hrelle studied her, seeing the same defiant strength and spirit in her that he saw in her mother.

He was utterly charmed.

They were quickly seated, Sasha sitting opposite Hrelle, Eismann sitting between them on Hrelle's left, noting her daughter's continued attitude. "Do I need to contact Ms Connolly?"

Sasha made an exaggerated show of releasing the tension in her face and arms, but still stared at Hrelle.

Hrelle smiled back at her... remembering himself at that age, more or less, reacting the same way to the females his Papa would meet with after Mama died, being very territorial to these strange interlopers.

"Sasha is usually much more chatty than this," Eismann informed him, attempting the break the silence at the table. "She's quite gifted in Engineering. She wants to join Starfleet when she grows up."

"Is that right?" The Caitian smiled at the girl. "And are you going to be an Engineer like your mother?"

"I'm gonna be a Commander!" she snapped, looking insulted by his question. "Like my Dad!"

Hrelle nodded again. "Excellent! I'm sure he'd be very proud of you! And it'd be good to have a working knowledge of other fields like Engineering, so you can appreciate how hard your crew works."

Sasha rolled her eyes and looked away.

Hrelle glanced at Eismann, who gave him an apologetic look as the waiter brought over the menu PADDs. "Sasha's very interested in other races, too; she's never met a Caitian before." She looked at the child again. "Don't you have any questions for Captain Hrelle about his people?"

Sasha hid behind her menu, unresponsive.

Until her mother reached up and gently pushed down the menu to reveal the girl again. "I'm sure if you start behaving politely, the Captain will answer anything you ask."

Sasha eyed him. "Anything?"

"Certainly," Hrelle promised her, still smiling.

Sasha set down her menu and focused on him, seeming to consider what to ask. "Okay then... are you furry all over?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

She breathed in... and then, in a voice deliberately loud enough to carry across the whole of the restaurant, asked, "EVEN YOUR PENIS?"

Eismann almost dropped her own menu, turning scarlet as she tried to ignore the looks they received from the surrounding tables. "Sasha! Apologise to Captain Hrelle, right now!"

Showing no genuine remorse whatsoever, the girl looked to Hrelle again. "I'm sorry, Captain. I'm very, very sorry."

Eismann looked ready to scold her further, when a high-ranking officer Hrelle didn't recognise approached the table. "Hannah, excuse the interruption while you're off-duty, but can I grab you for a moment to have a word with the Vulcan freighter captain about the repair work your people are doing?"

She made a sound, but nodded and set aside her menu. "Of course, Phil." She scowled at her daughter. "Behave yourself, or Captain Hrelle will let me know. Understood?"

Sasha hid behind her menu again in reply.

Eismann harrumphed, saying to Hrelle, "I'll be right back."

He waved her off and lifted up his menu once more, not sure what amused him more: Sasha's outburst, or her mother's reaction.

"Pssst."

He peered at her over his own menu. "Hmm?"

Sasha glanced over to where her mother was standing with the officer and the Vulcan Captain, before confiding to him, "I'm not really sorry."

He struggled to keep a straight face, but nodded solemnly. "Don't worry, I won't say anything."

She hid again.

Until he added, "Yes, it is."

Sasha popped up and frowned at him again, confused.

He pointed down to his lap under the table. "It's furry too. It's like a little furry sausage."

That made her laugh until she snorted... then she caught herself, retreating once more behind her menu, but still declaring petulantly, "I don't like you."

Hrelle smiled to himself as he began perusing his own menu. "That's too bad... because I really like you."

*

Sasha remained quiet for the rest of the dinner, but Eismann decided to let her stay quiet while she conversed with Hrelle... who found himself engaged with the human mother, as she talked about her life before arriving at Salem One, and Hrelle offered his own story, as well as tales about Cait and its history.... While Sasha pretended not to be listening closely.

On Eismann's insistence, he returned with them to their quarters, and she shooed a very reluctant but very tired Sasha to bed, returning to him in the living room. "Would you care for a coffee? Or something stronger?"