Surefoot 79: Killing Honour

The young Vulcan raised an eyebrow in what for his people would be surprise. "You honour me, Commodore. I will endeavour to learn well today, thank you."

Misha scowled up at his father with jealousy. "I can burp and fart at the same time!"

Hrelle reached out and ruffled the fur on his son's head. "Clever cub, you take after your Mama." He dodged Kami's smack as he headed for the door, "Remember: Game Night!"

"Game Night! Game Night! Game Night!" Misha echoed happily as Hrelle finally departed.

"I am not familiar with the term," Srithik confessed.

Kami began trying to feed Sreen, who kept pushing aside the spoon defiantly. "Game Night is for the family. We play Charades, Tumble Tower, Fizzbin, Moonopoly, Jumanji, Purr-Prowl-Pounce-"

"I'm bestest at Purr-Prowl-Pounce!" Misha declared proudly.

The older Caitian gently kept Sreen from pushing away the food, only to watch as the infant twisted her muzzle fully away from the spoon. "And this stubborn little cub acts as Judge."

Srithik nodded at that. "I understand. I will remain in my room tonight and not disturb all of you."

Kami regarded him, set down the spoon in defeat and walked around the table to kneel beside the Vulcan, indicating his pointed ears as she spoke softly. "You know, you need to get these cleaned more often. I said Game Night is for the Family. We can't very well leave you out of it, now can we?"

He considered her words. "Thank you, Mrs Hrelle. I am not familiar with those games, however."

"I teach you!" Misha offered, hopping off his chair and rushing to the shelves in the far corner of the living room. "I go get them-"

"No, you go get your tail to School," Kami corrected him, looking at Srithik once more. "You too, tail or not."

Srithik nodded again, looking thoughtful. "Of course. And thank you again, for your patience with my deficiencies."

Kami reacted to his words- before being distracted by Sreen holding her breakfast bowl in both paws, her muzzle buried into it as she licked it clean, before tossing the bowl aside to reveal a porridge-covered snout, and then belching deeply, laughing at her achievement.

*

Deck R2 - Command Centre:

Lt Zir Dassene stepped out into the main room, glancing around until she found- "Captain?"

Kate Sternhagen bounced around the rows of stations and operators like one of those silver balls in the old Terran games she'd seen in the movies she used to watch with Alpha Squad, all noise and lights. The woman barely glanced up. "Lieutenant."

The young Orion stood there, once again baffled about how to react with the other woman. She seemed to change attitude at the drop of a proverbial hat, going from surly to... well, less surly. Zir wanted to try and make friends with her, knowing how much they had to work together, but with all her new responsibilities as the Commodore's Adjutant, she simply didn't have the time to have a meal with her, or even a coffee.

This morning, she had hoped to change that; with the Commodore spending most of the day inspecting the Cadets' facilities and giving that extended lecture on the Dominion War, she'd be spending enough time alone here with the Captain to not be distracted by anything.

Well, that hope was immediately dashed as she watched Sternhagen move about. Did she do it deliberately-

No. Zir stopped letting herself be distracted to examine the situation. "What's happened?"

"The Aquitaine was attacked by a Klingon ship en route to Salem One," Sternhagen informed her, still moving around, alternating between examining the stations and updating her PADD. "The Ulyanov intercepted them. Captain Blum is bringing back the passengers and crew, and then returning to bring back the Aquitaine, but they need an overhaul on their tractor emitters, so we're bringing them into the Hangar Bay to do a rush job."

Zir's pulse quickened. Klingons? "Should I alert the Commodore? Or Security?"

"Not with what we have to tell him. Let him have fun with the Squabs. And with Commissioner Nam-Seon off taking our prisoners to Marcos XII for arraignment, they're running a skeleton crew down in Security anyway for now." Sternhagen walked up to her. "I'll supervise the Hangar operation. You have the Conn here."

The Orion blinked. "Me?"

"Sure, why not? You've proven yourself. Certainly enough to be in charge up here for a few hours. I'll be just an intercom call away."

Zir looked around, as if waiting for someone to object to the very notion of leaving her in at least a nominal command of the entire station, or for Sternhagen to suddenly turn it around and declare it all a cruel joke. But no one said anything. Finally, she nodded, feeling emboldened by the older woman's confidence in her. "Of course, Captain. I won't let you down."

Sternhagen smiled, patting her upper arm. "Glad to hear it." She started for the turbolifts, but along the way looked over her shoulder to add, "Oh, I forgot to mention: Lt Salvo's coming up shortly to discuss the Security situation on Deck 7."

Zir turned in place, feeling her olive skin flush. "What?"

"And by 'discuss', I think she means 'complain'." The human female entered the turbolift, turning to deliver a smile and a Thumbs Up gesture. "Have fun."

Zir resisted the urge to deliver a gesture of her own before the turbolift doors closed.

"Stuck it to you, didn't she?" The comment came from Lt Ajik, the Bajoran Communications Officer, smiling up at her from his station, before reporting more officially, "Ulyanov is entering the Hangar Bay through Landing Platform One."

Zir breathed out. "Alert Dr Masterson in the Hospital, and Support to prepare potential guest quarters." Then she focused on anything but her consternation. Unlike Sternhagen, Zir had no desire to get to know Arcanis Prima Salvo any better, not after the Nova Roman's haughty, insulting attitude towards Zir had earned the other woman a demotion. And though Salvo ultimately had no one to blame but herself for her current status, Zir wondered if the hotheaded woman would have the nous to recognise that.

Bloody Hell, they left her in charge.

She swallowed. Come on, Zir, you can do this. It's only gonna be for a couple of hours. What's the worst that could happen?

*

"Father! We were unable to capture the child and father!"

Uklass gnashed his teeth. "You miserable afterbirth! They were in an Oberth class starship! Those vessels are so weak they crumble under harsh glares! How could you not do this one simple thing?"

His younger son Narrom bared his teeth on the viewscreen. "Destroying them utterly was never a problem! You wanted them alive, and no Federation personnel harmed! But the Oberth's Captain proved to have a spine of steel! I did not expect it of humans! And then one of the Sabres came to intercept us! I thought it better to withdraw for now, and attack again once we had greater numbers!"

Uklass leaned back in his Captain's Chair, thinking ahead. "Yes. You thought well. Where are they now?"

"The Sabre collected the passengers and crew and took them to Salem One. We have detected no other Starfleet ships nearby."

Uklass made a fist. "Excellent; your sister is most likely there. We can deal with them all at once! Stay cloaked, and continue watching; we are bringing the Deadlocks with us." He closed the transmission. Secretly, he did not agree with Narrom's actions, but he had to maintain a united front for the sake of the rest of the House, and the allies they had brought in to help them regain their lost honour.

Curse you, Daughter. You have brought so much grief to your family with your selfish, dishonourable actions. Count the last hours of your life on the fingers of one hand. Your life, and the life of your partner and offspring.

*

Station Salem One - Deck 4 - School:

Misha worked swiftly through his lesson, checking the chronometer on the wall. Around him, cubs of many ages and races, including his new friend and housemate Srithik, sat at individual desks, some with headpieces that added multimedia to their own lessons without disturbing the others. And at the front of the classroom, Ms Donovan stood, watching all of them and smiling to herself.

Misha smiled back, setting down his PADD and hopping off his chair to approach her. "I finished!"

Donovan was a young, slim human female with a mass of curly auburn hair and a pixie nose, and she smiled as she checked her own PADD for what he had submitted. "So you did, Misha... and it looks like you did very well. Your mother will be pleased!"

Misha nodded. "Thanks to you! You teach well! Best Teacher Ever! May I go to the toilet now, please?"

"The toilet? Well, until we get ones of our own installed, there's the ones just outside... maybe if you want to wait, one of the older boys can go with you-"

He held up a reassuring paw. "I'm a big cub! I go by myself! I be quick!"

She still looked dubious... until he reached out and took her hand in his paws, purring as he added, "Thank you for being so smart and good. You're the best teacher, ever. I'm a lucky cub."

He watched her melt, and relent. "Be quick, okay?"

"You got it!"

He scurried along to the door at the rear - before being stopped by Srithik. "I have finished my current lesson; I can accompany you."

Misha shook his head, glancing back at the teacher before winking at him and making a shushing gesture with his finger to the tip of his muzzle, before departing.

He rushed out, bypassing the adjacent toilets entirely and racing around the people on Broadway to head for the Commissary, an open food court with a series of replicators in the walls for those who didn't have units in their own quarters. He looked around at those at the tables, choosing the right ones: a quintet of young crewmen in Engineering Gold, three humans, a Bolian and a Tellarite. "Howdy!"

They looked up from their meals and conversations, the Bolian frowning. "You're... Commodore Hrelle's son, aren't you?"

Misha nodded, grinning. "Captain Misha Hrelle! Welcome to my station!"

The Bolian and the other crewmen looked to each other and chuckled, the Bolian looking back and offering a jaunty old-fashioned salute. "Thank you, Captain!"

Misha looked around them again, seeing what was left on their trays. "Where you guys work?"

"The station fusion reactors," the Tellarite crewman responded, tucking into the rest of his algolish pie.

"The reactors? My Papa was talking about them this morning! He's gonna do a surprise 'spection on the reactors at 1300 Hours."

The crewman stopped and looked at each other, the Bolian asking, "Are you sure, kid?"

Misha nodded again, but brought a raised finger to the tip of his snout. "Don't tell no one! It's a secret! Papa's really mad! He says if he finds one thing wrong down there, it's Trouble Time!"

Alarm rose among them, and then one of the humans rose to her feet. "Maybe we should head back early, check things out?"

The Bolian rose as well. "Maybe you're right..." He reached for his tray.

But Misha waved them off. "You go! I take your trays! I do good deeds!"

"Are you sure?" another asked.

"Yeah! I'm a good cub! Go on! Dismissed!"

The rest of them made it to their feet, patting him on the back or the top of his head as they departed the Commissary. Misha waved them off, before hopping up on the nearest chair and drawing the trays closer to him, tucking into all of this delicious-smelling food at warp speed before he was missed back at class.

*

Deck 5 - Cadet Quarters Section:

The scent of fear, and of general adolescent hormones, was thick in the air, and Hrelle realised too late he probably should have expected this and took nasal suppressants, remembering his own times of being an Academy Squab a hundred thousand years ago, when some old high-ranking officer would come along for an inspection.

They were lined up on either side of the curved corridor, standing at attention outside of their respective bunkrooms, all ramrod straight and staring ahead: young people of all races, all in Cadet colours, eager to grow up and get out there into the Galaxy... or at least, eager not to get noticed for all the wrong reasons.

Beside him, Commander Haluk walked equally formally, the older bearded Vulcan male offering what to Hrelle seemed an exaggerated expression of sternness. Hrelle thought of questioning whether or not Haluk was perhaps going too far in his role as Academy Annex Superintendent... but then thought better of it. Having to manage a hundred cadets out here with very little support was not something Hrelle would want to do.

"I trust everything meets with your approval, Commodore?" Haluk enquired.

"So far, so good, Commander-"

"Will you get your tail under control, Fuzzy?" someone just around the corner whispered, just about audible to Hrelle. "The Old Guys are almost here!"

"Shut up, Troll," someone else admonished. "He can hear you!"

"Bullshit. You Cats have good ears, but you're no Ferengi."

Hrelle stopped and glanced at Haluk, whose hearing was equally acute, as he called out loudly, "Cadets C'Riir and Gela! Front and centre, right now!"

Hrelle looked up as two cadets rushed up into view and stood to attention in the centre of the corridor: a thin, black-furred Caitian male with a stubby muzzle, curved-tipped ears and a tail that wouldn't stop twitching from sheer nerves, and a short, salmon-pink Ferengi male with the typical bulbous head and huge ears, the Ferengi announcing, his voice a little more high pitched than expected despite his attempt at sounding confident, "Sirs! Cadets Gela and C'Riir, Reporting As Ordered!"

Hrelle drew up, taking in the scent of the Caitian more fully this close up as he asked him, "Who is who?"

The cadets looked at each other, the Caitian responding proudly, "I'm Cadet C'Riir, Commodore!" He indicated the Ferengi. "This is Cadet Gela."

"I am certain the Commodore could have deduced that himself, Mr C'Riir," Haluk pointed out dryly. "He might be less cognisant of why Third Year Cadets, whom I personally selected to participate in the Advanced Work Experience Scheme here, do not seem to understand the basics of Starfleet discipline."

"It's my fault, Sir," both said simultaneously.

They glanced at each other, before adding, again simultaneously, "No, me, Sir!"

"Are they Bynars?" Hrelle quipped to Haluk, focusing on the Caitian again. "Your accent is familiar, Mr C'Riir. Are you from the Mrestir Province?"

He stiffened, his tail smacking the back of his friend's legs as he responded, but he nodded enthusiastically. "Yes- Yes, Sir! A town called Meregreen!"

Hrelle nodded back, smiling. "I know it; good people, beautiful landscapes, and they do a mean shuris kebab there." Now he looked to Gela. "I heard of one Ferengi who had graduated from Starfleet, but didn't know more had signed up."

Now Gela looked up, his beady eyes gleaming. "Oh yes, Sir! A whole bunch of us joined at the same time, following in Lt Nog's footsteps!"

"Cadet Gela is the only one to have made it this far," Haluk informed him. "And he may soon follow the others, if I do not receive an adequate explanation for their speaking during inspection, and in what sounded like disrespectful terms."

"It was my fault, Sir!" both declared, again simultaneously.

Hrelle didn't bother suppressing his smirk. "They'd make a great act for the Academy Talent Competition. Are you two roommates? Friends?"

C'Riir and Gela looked at each other, each clearly looking to let the other answer first, then stopping, and starting, before finally nodding together.

Hrelle smiled. "Commander Haluk, when I was touring the Cadets' Dining Hall I picked up some strange scents from the vents. Probably some dead rats or naphrulls, they always hung around the recyclers in the old days, and got trapped in there when we closed up shop two years ago." He looked at the cadets. "We'll need some volunteers to clear them up."

Haluk looked as well.

C'Riir and Gela looked at each other, each clearly looking to let the other answer first, then stopping, and starting.

And finally Hrelle raised a paw. "We'll be here all day. You're both volunteered."

Haluk nodded. "Cadets, return to your places."

Gela nodded and started back, but C'Riir remained long enough to look at Hrelle and offer, his tail wagging and his eyes wide with admiration, "Commodore, I just wanted to thank you for everything that you did to help free the Motherworld from the Ferasan Occupation Forces. I'm your greatest hero, ever!"

Hrelle blinked, waiting for the younger Caitian to correct himself, before finally responding. "Thank you for saying that, Cadet. Mr Gela, take your friend back to his place."

"Yes, Sir." He took C'Riir by the elbow. "Come on, Fuzzy."

Hrelle watched them go, as Haluk noted, "My apologies for them, Commodore."

But the Caitian kept smiling, seeing so much of himself and his best friend Weynik in those two, when they first met at the Academy. "Forget it, Commander. Shall we proceed?"

*

The Klingon woman stood in the cluttered Emporium, examining the eclectic range of goods on the shelves and racks around her, while a pudgy, lime-green reptoid with stubby red ridges running over the eye sockets and up along the skull in tight rows stood near the counter, watching passively, silently. She moved along, debating whether or not to just walk out, not sure why she was here at all.

She turned to leave the store, when the reptoid asked, "Who is it for?"

She stopped and turned to face him. "Excuse me?"

"You seek a gift in Sirizo's humble shop, but not for yourself. Someone else. Who is it, if Sirizo might ask?"

She was startled by his perspicacity, but still felt the urge to deny him, and depart. Instead, she admitted, "My husband. I have been serving onboard a Starfleet vessel. He is bringing our baby here to visit while I am on shore leave. And I do not believe there is anything you possess here that would make for a suitable gift."

The reptoid hissed, extending his arms out welcomingly as if to unfurl his golden robes like wings. "Sirizo accepts the challenge. You are already very well gifted, with what I am certain is a handsome, loving mate and a beautiful child." He glided over to one set of shelves, one clawed hand reaching out to lift an object, showing it to her. "I offer this: a holo-imager, to record your loved ones and preserve those precious moments in time that, once gone, are subject to the unreliable grasp of memory." He bared thin gleaming rows of teeth. "Shall we haggle?"

Moments later, she had stepped out onto Broadway, pocketing the holo-imager into her shoulder bag, as she ventured towards the Arrivals and Departures Board to check on the transport-

A moan from the shrubbery flanking the Commissary she was passing caught her attention, and warily she drew closer, peering aside the foliage to find a small felinoid child, incongruously clad in a Starfleet uniform, curled up, his face screwed up in intense pain as he cried out.

The Klingon pushed her way through to kneel beside him, checking him out. "What's happened? Who are you?" When all she received from him were more moans, she lifted him up, softening her tone. "It's okay, child. I am Dr Jiyajh. I will take you to the Hospital."

*

It wasn't long before a summoned Commodore and Counselor Hrelle rushed into the Hospital on Deck 3 together, immediately focusing on the CMO Doctor Masterson, Hrelle starting with, "What's happened to Misha, Zeke?"

"He'll be okay," the human male reassured them, stepping aside to indicate one of the medical alcoves, where Misha lay on his side on a biobed, moaning, attended by Chief Nurse Eydiir, the young Capellan showing an uncommon break in her usual stoicism by stroking the young cub's fur. Masterson's Western drawl was lowered so as not to disturb Misha or the others in the ward. "He's had a little gastronomic adventure in the Commissary."