Surefoot 76: Under New Management

"Good," he nodded, guilt twisting inside him. "I feel responsible: exposing him to the world of Starfleet, encouraging him to be 'Captain Misha', teaching him hunting and tracking, learning to fight and be the Protector of others."

"He never needed that much encouragement in any of those areas," she reminded him. "Growing up around Starfleet, facing dangers throughout, on this ship with the Vlathi and the Jem'Hadar, and on Cait with the Ferasans. And he's had that instinct to protect since literally before he was born. It's not surprising that he might make aggression his default response. He just needs to learn to temper it."

"Have you told him this?"

"Me? No, I'm in his bad books now... so I coached his Cousin C'Rash to tell him what he needs to hear, without him thinking he was being lectured." She paused and added, "Not that she needed much coaching. She's more mature than you might think, which will help when T'Varik's nephew arrives."

He made a sound and walked around the desk, slipping an arm around hers. "Promotions, transfers, cubs growing up, more cubs on the way. So many changes. Maybe too many."

"You might be right, Husband of Mine. You should use your Q powers to stop time-" She frowned, shaking her head. "No, wait, I forgot, you're mortal just like the rest of us. Guess you'll have to live with it."

He escorted her out the door. "On the other paw, it's reassuring to know you remain a sarcastic pain in my tail..."

*

Zir entered the quarters she had shared with what was her Alpha Squad, knowing it would be the last night, before arriving at the new chapter in their lives. Around her, the Squad -- Astrid Michele, Tori Emoto, Peter Boone, Stalac and Urad Kaldron -- sat and drank. Even Stalac, the Horta with a tray of literal mineral water beside him. "Sorry I'm late, guys, it's been-"

Astrid rose to her feet, still as impossible slim and attractive as ever. "Say no more, Fearless Soon-To-Be-Ex-Leader, just put that PADD down, take off your jacket -- or anything else -- and I'll get you a drink."

Zir almost objected, wanting to get ahead of tomorrow's schedule, collating the data Lt Cmdr Bellator managed to extract from the Marauder's shuttles and prepping the status of the rest of the Sabre Squadron.

But then she looked around, realised she had no idea when they would all be together again, even if they were staying more or less in the same sector, and would have frequent contact with each other. She would miss times like this.

She set aside her PADD and shucked off her jacket, accepting a glass of some blue liquid with ice from Astrid. "Thanks. What is it?"

"It doesn't have a name, only a reputation. Just down it."

"Slowly," Tori advised, with a glass of her own. "Too much of this at once and you'll burn away your ladygarden."

Zir glanced into the contents of her drink, before sitting down beside Peter. "I heard about the fight Misha got into with some colonist children. Nothing too serious, I hope?"

The young blonde man shook his head, smiling wistfully. "Abby was scared. And then she was angry at him. And then she wouldn't stop talking about how brave and strong he was. Kids get into all kinds of scrapes." He looked at her. "You okay? Something on your mind?"

Yes, she admitted to herself. But she also admitted that she wasn't going to burden others with her petty anxieties about working with a bully like Salvo, and maybe worry if she could handle the responsibility given her. She smiled. "No, just resisting the urge to keep working. You know what I'm like."

"Indeed, Zir," Stalac agreed, moving his body over his drinks tray to absorb some of its contents, the Horta's combadge voder bolted to his side approximating some level of inebriation. "We must arrange a regular get-together on the station to ensure you don't get so wound up that you snap on the Commodore."

"Yes, Comrades!" Urad bellowed, reining in his drunken exuberance when he spilled some of his ale from his huge tankard. "We will make our revels legendary!"

"As someone who is legendary in other ways," Astrid quipped, winking, "I promise you it can be a heady experience."

Tori rolled her eyes. "I'll never make Assistant Engineer hanging around you skidmarks."

Zir grinned, forcing down her lingering anxieties. No, she wouldn't ruin their night with her own problems.

*

The air was filled with smoke and a cacophony of despair: the wails of children, the cries of the wounded, muffled weeping.

He called out, or tried to. No voice.

In the dim emergency light, shadowy forms emerged from the ghostly haze: dark silhouettes against a glowing red background of flame. Hrelle

smelled seared flesh, felt heat on his face. He staggered onto the deck; the station was tilting sharply; stabilisers were failing. Life support would be next--if they had time. Hrelle silently ticked off the seconds. He had time, he had time-

Fire leapt at him from a side corridor, singeing the shoulder of his uniform; he ignored it and fought his way past the flames toward a group of frantic civilians struggling with armloads of personal possessions. One woman, her hair singed, her face severely burned, stopped in her flight to retrieve a holo she'd dropped on the deck and began to weep in panic as other items tumbled from her trembling arms.

"Leave everything!" Hrelle roared over the roar of flames as he passed them. Possessions meant nothing. Lives were all that mattered. And right there, right now, particular lives mattered most to him. Panic rose within him. They should have left, should have reached the escape pods. Maybe they already had.

No. He knew where he would find them. Where he always found them.

He stumbled into their quarters, his heart bursting in his chest, as he smelled their burning flesh before he even entered-

"Esek," Kami murmured.

There was a sound of cotton tearing; it took a moment for him as he woke to realise the cotton was their bedsheets, and the tearing was from his claws.

He retracted them again, feeling his heart pounding in his furred chest as he lay in the dark beside her, shock and shame suffusing him; what if he had accidentally used his claws on his wife? "Sorry." He turned his head to glance at the glowing constellation of the bedroom chrono. It was only an hour before he was meant to get up; his subconscious was getting more considerate.

"Leave Misha and Sreen to sleep," Kami suggested softly, nudging him. "Go get ready. Get a big breakfast."

"Oooh, joy. Shall I treat myself to a half grapefruit and cottage cheese?"

"I ordered the dietary restrictions temporarily lifted for you from the replicators. You could do with some comfort food-"

He was out of bed before she finished her announcement.

He was almost dressed and out the door when he heard his cubs' door slide open, and Misha step out, rubbing his eyes. "Papa? Something wrong?"

Hrelle stopped and turned. "Nothing's wrong, Misha. Go back to sleep."

But the cub drew forward, clearly wanting his father's reassuring closeness. "Mama yelled at me, said I can't be Captain Misha anymore. She hates me."

He breathed in, then returned to kneel before his cub, stroking the fur on his head and neck. "Of course she doesn't hate you. She was just upset at the thought that you might have hurt someone, or got hurt yourself, fighting."

Misha hugged his father. "You fight people, all the time, she no get upset-"

"No, Son of Mine, I don't fight all the time. I only fight when there's no choice, and I have the training and experience to keep from hurting people too much. I'd rather talk my way out of bad situations, find peaceful solutions; that's what Starfleet really tries to do. It's better when everyone tries to be friends first. And your Mama still gets upset if I have to fight."

Misha grumbled. "Cousin C'Rash says fighting should be the last thing you do."

Hrelle smiled, pulling back to look into his eyes again. "She's right. And I'm glad to hear her say something like that. And don't be too mad with your Mama, she loves you. Now get back to bed, remember what we tell you, and try and be the good cub we know you can be."

*

C'Rash, standing at Tactical, kept her eyes ahead as she announced, "Commodore on the Bridge!"

Hrelle stopped tugging at his belt -- it had somehow shrunk slightly following his breakfast, probably due to some subspace phenomenon in this sector -- as he stepped forward, nodding to Zir, Sternhagen and Salvo, who had arrived before him and stood to the side, the first two nodding in acknowledgement as he fought the urge to continue to the Captain's chair.

Its rightful owner now, T'Varik, turned to face him. "Your timing is impeccable, Sir. Would you care to take the centre seat one more time?"

He shook his head, his eyes fixed now on the viewscreen. They had dropped out of warp, and the starfield had stopped dilating, as if caused by the object in the centre of the screen: a top-shaped station, all dark industrial greys, old and utilitarian, its radiator shields and towers and landing pads retracted, along with the mesh for the Drydock, its lights dimmed to a minimal beacon.

Nearby, Sternhagen, still dressed in civilian gear, stared at the viewscreen. "It looks as cheerful and welcoming as when I last saw it. It's comforting to know some things don't change."

Beside her, Zir looked to the human curiously. "Excuse me, Captain, but didn't you live and work there for years?"

Sternhagen grunted, crossing her arms. "I'm not a Captain anymore, Kid. What's your real question?"

"Well, Captain -- Ma'am -- if you didn't like working there-"

"Why did I stay so long?" The curly-haired older woman shrugged. "It was my duty. It was a different time in Starfleet back then, a harder time, you kids wouldn't understand."

"The Lieutenant's generation have faced their own travails, Kate," Hrelle assured her. "They've had to step up from being cadets to being warriors, fighting the greatest enemy the Federation has ever encountered... and they've proven themselves time and again to be more than capable."

Salvo made a sound -- and Hrelle noticed a change in expression and scent from Zir at that, and how she kept her distance from Salvo.

But then his attention returned to something else onscreen. "Is that debris? Is it damage from the station?"

At his question, the officer at Ops shifted and focused on the right-hand side of the screen, displaying a cloud of wreckage, from a vessel instead of part of the station, Hrelle's mind instinctively assembling the pieces together that he could see to identify it as, "Paserak."

"Confirmed, Sir," C'Rash followed. "One of their tribal ships, struck by phaser fire, presumably from Salem One's automated defences, approximately eight months ago."

"That doesn't make sense," Hrelle noted absently, confused. "They would have picked up the warning beacons long before they would have gotten into weapons range. They wouldn't have come near a Starfleet facility anyway. Not unless they were chased down here, had no choice and driven into the line of fire-"

A Tactical Alert broke his musings, as Bellator announced, "Salem One's automated defences are locking onto us!"

"Shields up!" Hrelle ordered -- simultaneously with T'Varik -- before he accused C'Rash, "I thought we transmitted our ID codes to power down their shields and weapons!"

"We did!"

"It could be a malfunction with Salem One's peripheral sensor grid," Sternhagen suggested, looking to Hrelle. "You're the new Station Commander, you have the appropriate security codes-"

He didn't wait for the human to finish, racing up to the Ops station, the officer on duty there barely stepping out of his way as he opened a channel. "Salem One: Command Authorisation Hrelle-4-7-Alpha-Tango, Clearance Level 10. Deactivate Sentinel Protocols, power down weapons and shields, reactivate primary systems and enter Standby Mode! Acknowledge!"

Interminable seconds later, an automated voice replied, "Acknowledged."

But he didn't let himself breathe again until C'Rash confirmed, "Salem One has stood down, Commodore."

He turned and stared back at the viewscreen. They continued to draw closer to the station, the sections illuminating the outer edges.... and the wreckage nearby.

Hrelle kept his fingers tucked into his paws, feeling his claws extend instinctively, threatening to pierce his furred flesh. He understood the need to lock up Salem One and having the automated systems protecting it instead of leaving it vulnerable, instead of keeping it manned or taking it away. He just didn't agree with it, with leaving a computer, no matter how sophisticated, possessing the means of defending itself to the point of being able to destroy a starship.

And if there was some glitch like they just experienced, and innocents were attacked, destroyed...

He felt his tail tapped agitatedly against the Bridge railing, and forced it to stop as he cleared his throat. "When the station was evacuated and put in Sentinel Mode, the systems were programmed to send periodic security reports to Starfleet Command about any alerts. I saw the collected reports; there was a Ferengi Investor-class cruiser, and an Orion blockade runner that made some near passes, seemingly testing the defences, before being driven off. There was nothing about a Paserak vessel." He looked over at Zir. "Was there?"

She checked her PADD, shaking her head. "No mention, Commodore, and no apparent anomalies in the timecodes for the reports."

"Maybe the station didn't fire on the Paserak?" Sternhagen suggested to him. "They could have been attacked by an outside party while approaching Salem One? They could have been coming here, maybe looking for help, even from Starfleet, but not realising we'd closed up shop for the winter."

"I'd still expect an incident to have been recorded by the station."

"There's no bodies in the Paserak wreckage," C'Rash added. "Maybe they escaped in lifepods and were picked up by their own people... or their attackers?"

He nodded, thankful for the lack of casualties- but only for a second. "Scan the interior of the station."

As the junior officers complied, T'Varik caught his attention. "You believe they might have bypassed the station's security and boarded, Sir?"

"Maybe. The Paserak are sophisticated, amalgamating what they collect and trade from various races."

"More likely they have looted the interior and departed in a second vessel," Salvo now opined, the woman's Nova Roman accent crisp and cutting. "What I have read of them makes them appear mere thieves and scavengers, no different to the Marauder scum we have in the Brig on this ship."

"They're much better than that, Lieutenant Commander," Hrelle chided her. "I had a very good working relationship with one of their tribal leaders, providing vital sector intelligence when required."

"That was a few years ago, Esek," Sternhagen reminded him soberly. "Before your capture, before my resignation, before the War. Things changed for all of us, maybe they did for Maquadan Benjo and his people?"

Before he could acknowledge her point, C'Rash reported, "Scan complete, Sir: apart from the flora and fauna in the Park on Deck 5, nothing is detected... but, there's interference from the Security and generator shields on Decks 7 and 8, and from the machinery on Hangar Decks 9 to 12 and Engineering Decks 16 to 18."

Hrelle nodded at that; the security fields on 7, the energy screens in the Labs on 8, and the generators on the other decks always offered natural and deliberate interference. "We'll beam to the Command Centre and run the interior sensors; they're on a closed internal network, and won't be affected by the interference. Once we clear it, then we can let the Engineering, Medical and Security teams follow to examine their respective sections. Mr Kitirik and his Science Team will accompany Lt Dassene, Ms Sternhagen and myself."

"I will beam over first with my own team, Commodore," Salvo announced, stepping forward and nodding towards the image of Salem One. "And ensure the Command Centre is safe for you."

"Agreed... but if there is anyone unauthorised over there, anywhere, take minimal action, regardless of the provocation."

The Nova Roman glowered, but responded with, "If you insist, Sir."

Salvo strode towards the Bridge doors, when Hrelle added, "Hold it. Lt Shall, accompany her."

The black-furred Caitian bristled. "Sir?"

"I don't need accompaniment from her," Salvo declared haughtily, seemingly rising up several centimetres in height.

Hrelle remained unfazed, however. "I don't know if anyone told you, Lieutenant Commander, but I'm in charge here. I have a note from my mother that says so; you can find it pinned to my furry ass while you're down there kissing it." To C'Rash, he added, in Old Caitian, "Watch her, you have my full authority to take over if necessary."

His niece started at his command and the use of their shared dialect, unknown to most Universal Translators, but nodded and replied, "Aye, Sir."

Then he watched them depart, his mind looking ahead at the station, seeing the row of lights that represented Deck 1: Officers' Quarters. The deck where he would reside. Again.

He could do this.

He could do this.

*

He did it, beaming over with his party after getting the All Clear from Salvo. He glanced around at the hexagonal-shaped Command Centre, a familiar environment -- to his eyes and ears, anyway; even if the air wasn't stale from the recyclers only having just been shut down for two years, then there would have been more than a decade of strangers occupying this pace.

Behind him, Zir, Kit and the Science Team immediately began accessing the various surrounding stations and running diagnostics. Sternhagen drew up to Hrelle, her hands shoved into the pockets of her leather jacket as the both of them stared at the main viewscreen. "Weird. I can still feel the slight shift as I walk over the break between the gravity plates beneath the floor."

"Yeah." He looked to Zir. "Lieutenant?"

The Orion looked up from the station she had occupied. "Internal security sensors confirm no intruders, Commodore."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." He looked to Salvo and the Security Team. "Head down to Security and prepare the cells for our prisoners, then get some eyes on the rest of the decks." As they proceeded, he tapped his combadge. "Hrelle to Surefoot: the sensors have cleared, send over the Engineering and Medical teams."

"Aye, Sir. Counselor Hrelle has requested that the children and Crewman Gyver be allowed to visit the Park, while she supervises the move into your new station quarters. She also wished me to emphasise that she is moving all of your possessions into the quarters singlepawedly, without complaint or recompense or-"

"Yes, yes, I get the rest, Mother's Cubs... that's all good. Hrelle out." A conversation drew him over to Sternhagen and Kitirik. "Something up, Kit?"

The young reptoid and former cadet looked up from his seat, his webbed hands still moving over the keyboard. "Forgive me, Respected Commodore, but I was reviewing the automated logs since the station was placed in Sentinel Mode. They... appear as expected."

Hrelle frowned, watching the datastreams on the display before Kit... and not making head or tail of any of it. But he did pick up the tone in the young Science Officer's reply. "'Appear'?"

Kit nodded. "The logs from the last eight months appear to have been altered, with patches from other logs. It might not have been detected otherwise, but I am employing new diagnostic algorithms from Starfleet Engineering. The patches don't appear to be connected to major systems such as life support or weapons, nothing to suggest the attempted takeover of the station, more like someone has attempted to cover a presence while they were here."