Surefoot 79: Killing Honour

"Lieutenant Dassene here, Sir. Klingons have been found and apprehended in Ops, the Hangar Bay, Cadets' Dining Hall, the Children's Class, and Professor Tallus' Quarters. No fatalities or serious injuries reported. The Katana and the Ulyanov are covering the Klingon vessels, as are we, now with our weapons systems back online."

"The Katana's back?"

"Yes, Sir; apparently they were ferrying Commissioner Nam-Seon back from Marcos XII when they were contacted by Dr Kline, warning them about what might happen, and when Captain Weynik couldn't reach us, he returned at top speed. All systems report Nominal, we're running further Security sweeps."

"Good work, Lieutenant, I'll be right up. Hrelle out."

Nearby, Salvo was surveying the Hospital. "She took command, fought like a warrior. She did well... for a plebeian, of course."

Hrelle regarded his Chief of Security with a smirk. "Going soft on me, Lieutenant?"

"Ascendo tuum."

Now he approached Kami and Misha, seeing his son's head tucked deep into the crook of his mother's neck, his arms around her. "I have to go. Will you two be alright?"

"Of course, this isn't our first fight, and I'll be needed here. Go on."

He nodded, stroked Misha's head and departed, already trying to sort out how he was going to resolve matters. It was going to be a diplomatic as well as a Security nightmare. Still, that was why they gave him the proverbial Big Money.

*

Zir was in the midst of collating a status report for Commodore Hrelle when her attention was drawn back to the two cadets, the Caitian and the Ferengi, who had made their way up in the Jefferies Tube. She had put them to guard the captured Klingons, but now that Security had arrived, they were standing there arguing with each other.

"We should report back to Commander Haluk, they don't need us up here any longer."

"Are you kidding, Furball? We're here, in Ops! This is our chance to make names for ourselves! Rule of Acquisition Number 9: 'Opportunity plus instinct equals profit'."

"The last time we made a name for ourselves, we ended up cleaning vermin out of the Tubes! Come on, Big Ears, let's just quit while we're ahead and sneak out!"

"Hey!" she finally snapped, getting their attention. "You two Squabs can report back to Commander Haluk!"

The pair of them jumped like she had just phasered them, both responding simultaneously with, "Yes, Ma'am!"

Zir watched them scurry to the turbolifts, reluctantly adding, "You did good here; I'll be sure to note your names in my report."

The cadets looked to each other, both replying, "Thank you, Ma'am!"

The Orion shook her head and turned away - seeing Lt Ajik grinning at her, his wrinkled Bajoran nose creasing further. "What?"

He shrugged. "Do you remember being like that at that age?"

She blinked, recalling her cadet days: pulling all-night study sessions, or arguing with Astrid about the amount of beauty products she left around the shared bathroom, or worrying that her boots were polished enough to pass inspection. Stuff that seemed so important, at the time.

A lifetime ago, it felt like. "Too long ago. You want to go for a drink after all this?"

*

Sternhagen sat in the Hangar Chief's Office, feet up on the desk, cradling her temple as she called out through the open doorway, "And I want that area cleaned of the Klingon blood! The Ulyanov has to get back in here to finish the work on it once the Klingon ships are locked down!"

Sakai appeared at the doorway, looking both concerned and amused. "Captain, go to the Hospital. Get that head wound checked out, you probably have a concussion."

"Oh, and you're a doctor now, Chief?" She pointed through the transparent aluminium window. "Get that lazy pack of good-for-nothings to work! You get taken hostage and you think you get the rest of the day off? Not on my watch!"

*

Srithik heard the knock on his bedroom door, and almost chose to contrive being asleep and not available for visitors, before thinking better of it - it is not logical to delay the inevitable - and rising from his chair. "Enter."

Kami slid the door open, the sepia-furred Caitian female's tail swishing behind her as she stood and regarded him. "So, how long do Vulcans usually wallow?"

"I beg your pardon, Mrs Hrelle?"

She stepped inside, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms. "Wallow. You're familiar with the word?"

"Of course. But I do not understand the context here."

"I mean to self-indulge in something, usually an emotion."

He raised his narrow chin to her. "Vulcans do not-"

Then she raised a finger to cut him off. "Don't even go there, Sweetheart. Let's cut to the pounce, shall we? I've spoken with Gyver, he told me about what happened in the Classroom, and about how you felt guilty over letting Misha out unaccompanied and not joining in on fighting the Klingons who appeared.

You have no reason to feel guilty about either. Gyver was right about you not joining in on any fight... as for the other matter..." Now her finger beckoned to him. "Let's get that sorted out."

He followed her into the family's living room, where Sreen was shuffling around the floor, her exoframe compensating for her Neurodystraxia, while Misha sat on the couch, refusing to look at her, still scowling from the lecture Srithik heard his mother give him for the actions which put him in the Hospital.

Kami scooped up Sreen before she could crawl under a nearby side table and pointed her to crawl in another direction, before facing Misha. "Cub of Mine, as your punishment and your father being busy means Game Night has been cancelled, I'm going to take the time to clear things up for all concerned.

Srithik is not a guest. He is Family."

She looked at the Vulcan. "Now, as I'm sure you've worked out already, Misha is a wonderful, charming, beautiful bundle of trouble. Now, a little trouble once in a while is not a bad thing. But Misha can take it to extremes... and when his parents and other authority figures are not present, he could use some mature guidance around him to keep him from taking it too far."

Misha crossed his arms, still looking away. "Rude to talk about people like they're not here!"

Kami ignored him, still focused on Srithik. "This does not mean we are taking you on as his nanny. I meant what I said when I said you were Family." She paused to walk back to Sreen, who made a tiny roar of protest as her mother guided her away from taking over the kitchen. "And as family, though we have our own lives to lead, we also have responsibilities - to each other, to watch out for and care for each other."

She returned to Srithik. "And this will help you learn a few things along the way, too. Well, what do you think? Care to try?"

The Vulcan looked between the mother and son. "I have no experience as a sibling."

"You'll learn. And it's not always about supervision and discipline, either."

"I believe I understand, Mrs Hrelle. May I?"

She stepped back, smiling. "Be my guest."

Srithik turned to Misha, who seemed like he was trying to bury himself in the plush cushions of the couch. "Misha, our teacher supplied me with your school PADD, and the lessons you missed while you were in Hospital. I propose that, as I have finished my homework and you have recovered, you and I can work on them together."

Misha grunted.

Srithik raised an eyebrow. "And if you complete them correctly and in time, I would very much like to learn from you how to play Purr-Prowl-Pounce. I understand you are very proficient at it."

The offer made the young Caitian turn and smile, his bronze eyes brightening.

*

Deck R1 - Commodore's Office

A recovered Uklass and surviving son Narrom stood before Hrelle's desk, Salvo and several Security crewmen on alert nearby, along with Jiyajh, Talbok and their child, and Commissioner Nam-Seon, newly returned, but letting Hrelle lead the meeting. "Lord Uklass, the Klingon Empire and the Federation have been allies for decades, fought valiantly beside each other during the War. But this incident can't be ignored, or forgiven.

You invaded Federation space, attacked ships, our station, boarded, injured crew members and threatened civilians' lives. Because this was not sanctioned by the Empire, it'll be treated as a criminal matter. Can you confirm for the record that you agree to accept full responsibility for this incident, and are prepared to face Federation criminal proceedings?"

Uklass nodded, occasionally glancing over at Jiyajh. "I will not contest the charges, Commodore. I have already relinquished my authority over my House, and have passed it to Narrom."

The younger Klingon nodded formally. "And as the new Head of our House, I can renounce the Karo'kal against my sister without our House losing further honour." He looked at Jiyajh. "She, her child and partner will no longer be threatened."

The Klingon doctor nodded. "We thank you for this, Father; if you will permit it, we will arrange to visit you, at wherever you end up incarcerated... or at least, send you recordings; I have obtained a holo-imager recently."

Uklass nodded, with emotion. "I will accept either, gladly. You, and your Klingon husband and son, are more than welcome."

She nodded in gratitude at his concession, and then turned to Narrom. "And we thank you too, Brother, for saving Commodore Hrelle, and for freeing us from the fear of death. We know what this has cost. And will continue to cost our House, in honour and revenue."

"We can't help you with the former," Hrelle admitted, capturing the attention again, "But we may do something about the latter. As I understand it, your House's business is salvaging and refurbishing starships and support vessels. Well, we have Sabre Squadron One, but we need more civilian ships out here, sturdy, reliable support ships to increase trade and transport within the sector... and Klingon ships have always had a reputation for being sturdy and reliable."

The Klingon males looked to each other, Narrom asking, "You would still make such an offer, after what has happened between us?"

"Enough blood has been spilt... and your father will continue to pay for this day. Bear that in mind in your new role, when you consider how to respond to the addition of your sister's child and husband to your family. Honour is not some eternal, universal constant like the speed of light... and even that can be bent or circumvented under the right circumstances."

He turned to Jiyajh. "Doctor, you're more than welcome to remain under civilian contract as the Katana's chief medical officer... and Mr Talbok, we could do with another teacher on Salem One, and provide you and your son with permanent accommodation. With our station as the Katana's permanent base of operations, Jiyajh will be back frequently... and you'll all still be under our protection, should anyone else wish to come along and start trouble."

Talbok and Jiyajh exchanged meaningful glances, Talbok responding with, "I would be honoured, Commodore. And I swear to protect the children under my supervision with my life."

"I'll be satisfied if you can keep my son under control. My Station Chief will make all the arrangements with you for billeting, personnel assignment and so forth. Dismissed... Commissioner, would you wait behind, please?"

As the rest of the occupants filed out, Hrelle turned to the young Terran. "So, Commissioner, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Nam-Seon blinked. "How did you know I wanted to speak with you?"

"Decades of association with humans has left me attuned to more subtle inflections than most Caitians. Did something happen at the arraignment of the Zorin personnel at Marcos XII? Did they try to throw some corporate influence in court?"

"On the contrary; I think the likes of Bill Buford and his crew are being thrown to the proverbial wolves. But I did want to talk with you about Zorin Interstellar, however. The Federation Council has received a new number of applications for more projects in the Salem Sector from the company."

"Projects?"

She nodded. "Among others, there's a Colony Project Application for Nepenthe, a Mining Project Application for Scesity, and a Scientific Project Application to establish a Long Range Subspace Radio Telescope Array to study the Galactic Core."

It was the last thing he expected to hear. He moved to the drinks cabinet. "Why would ZI want to invest in our Sector? And do we want their further involvement here, after what they allowed to happen on Ucarro Major?"

Nam-Seon crossed her arms. "Corporations rely on their public image, and will tend to overcompensate when that image is tarnished. As for their suitability to continue to invest here, I suspect they'll be extra careful about their operations."

He returned, with a tumbler in each paw. "Or extra secretive. Can't we refuse them?"

"On what grounds? We need the commerce, the traffic, it'll give us leverage to secure the sector, build on the infrastructure." She accepted the tumbler, frowning at the contents. "Spican flame whiskey? It's my favourite. Did you know?"

He smiled. "I asked around. And if Zorin is making investments here, I'm going to keep a sharp eye on everything they do."

"Fair enough." She sipped at her drink, nodding with approval. "Good age to it: my compliments, Commodore." Then her expression sobered. "I'm still recalling when I was last in your office with your wife, examining the recordings of Max Zorin himself. Her assessment of him as a psychopath-"

"I remember." Hrelle didn't want to think about him, content to imagine Max Zorin too distant and busy to take Hrelle's shutdown of his operations on Ucarro Major II personally.

*

Elsewhere:

The old Orion sat alone in the nameless bar, his thick green fingertips fighting his growing inebriation to maintain a hold on the bottle of Terran vodka he had purchased with the last of his latinum.

The old Orion sat alone in the nameless bar, with no sense of time, of place, with no notion of where his next money would come from, or his next meal, or where he would be sleeping that night, or even if he would survive to finish this cheap piss that was passing itself off as alcohol.

The old Orion sat alone in the nameless bar, content to, well, if not live, then exist, because it was easier to do that than anything else. Even kill himself, a thought which always lingered nearby, like a bad smell-

"Good evening."

The old Orion no longer sat alone in the nameless bar. His heavy-lidded eyes barely moved as he took in the new arrival sitting opposite him: a human male, older, bald, gaunt to the point of skeletal with an aquiline nose and dimpled chin, and clad in a plain black business suit. He folded thin fingers together and raised thin lips in an attempt at a cordial smile as he repeated, "Good evening."

The old Orion who no longer sat alone in the nameless bar tried to echo the greeting, couldn't remember how to speak, and instead responded with a raise of the vodka bottle up in salute.

The human regarded the remains in the bottle and turned slightly towards the bartender. "Another bottle for my friend here, please?" He paused and corrected, "On second thought, perhaps coffee, or something else sobering?" Now he smiled again. "Forgive my incivility. My name is Mr Kobayashi."

The old Orion who no longer sat alone in the nameless bar tried to introduce himself, but decided to finish the bottle in his hands instead.

"That's alright," Kobayashi granted genially. "Your reputation precedes you: Surinh Dag, the former owner of one of the largest Deathmatch Rings on Orion Prime, watched by hundreds of millions in your Empire and beyond. You were as much a celebrity as your fighters. You had a palace. Slaves. Wealth beyond the dreams of avarice.

But that was a while ago, wasn't it? Now you're far from home, alone, destitute, eking out what passes for a living through freelance thuggery. And if there are erstwhile moments of lucidity, perhaps you wonder where it all went wrong for you... or more accurately, who took it all from you.

Allow me to answer that for you: Esek Hrelle, your greatest gladiator, the one who operated under the nom de guerre The Beast."

The old Orion who no longer sat alone in the nameless bar reacted as if dropped into Lake Ngagum in the dead of winter. "Hrelle..."

Kobayashi nodded. "Yes, Hrelle. For years he was your most popular, most profitable possession. Then he tricked you, deceived you into believing his fighting career was over, and so you sold him to a Corvallen freighter, to aid in his eventual escape from slavery.

With his absence, your popularity and profits dropped, you could no longer afford the protection money to the Syndicate, and they commenced a hostile takeover of your Ring."

The old Orion who no longer sat alone in the nameless bar felt his sobriety resurface with every word from the human, with every emotion the memories of that time evoked. Esek Hrelle, the Beast, the Caitian Starfleet officer who had done so much for his master. Oh yes. He didn't quite remember it working out the way Kobayashi described it, but also knew it had been an eternity ago.

Still, the bite that the recollection delivered felt fresh enough. He bared jewelled teeth as he repeated, "Hrelle."

Kobayashi nodded again, sounding and appearing sympathetic. "How cruel the Fates can be. Here you are, while Hrelle has been promoted, decorated, remarried, and has returned to command the sector he once defended.

Happy, content... and laughing at your misfortune, even as we speak."

He leaned in closer. "Would you like to silence that laughter, while restoring your fortune? Would you like to be Surinh Dag once again?"

The old Orion who no longer sat alone in the nameless bar set aside the bottle, no longer interested in just existing. "How?"

Kobayashi gave him a cadaverous grin. "Let Zorin Interstellar help you..."

*

Elsewhere still, a huge striped felinoid warrior sat cross-legged on the cold floor of his starship, lost in meditation, his gaze focused on the broadsword resting on scarlet Kzinti silk before him... and his mind focused on the Caitian that had returned to this part of the Galaxy after so long. The Caitian that had somehow defeated his people, time and again.

The Caitian whose head would be mounted in the trophy room of the warrior.

Soon. Quite soon...

THE ADVENTURES OF THE SUREFOOT UNIVERSE WILL CONTINUE ...