Surefoot 80: Heroes' Race

"I... would appreciate that, Pridemaster," Hrelle admitted slowly. "I must confess, my duties with Starfleet mean too many fights end quickly, anonymously. Yes, I would know more of an opponent like you. However long it takes."

The longer, the better...

*

Station Salem One, Deck R2, Command Centre:

Captain Sternhagen frowned as she sipped at her mug of raktajino. "This is fricking awful." She kept drinking, and staring up at the Sector Status Board, a large display of the surrounding systems, registered vessels and other points of interest.

Beside her, Lt Zir Dassene and Federation Commissioner Ryo Nam-Seon stood, both young women glancing at each other before the Commissioner asked patiently, "Captain, the Commodore's Adjutant here assured me that one of the Sabres would be made available to go to Thasara and run checks on the installations being set up there by Zorin Interstellar."

"Yeah," Sternhagen conceded distractedly, still staring up. "There's a slight delay."

She left it at it, prompting Zir to ask, studying the display as well now. "What's happening?"

"We picked up some Paserak traffic about a single Kzinti vessel, a Prideship, crossing the Border from the Patriarchy. I've ordered the Prospero away from the Thasara mission to join the Katana and al-Razi at the Border in a quiet sweep."

"'Quiet'?" Nam-Seon frowned. "Why would they not be more obvious? If the Kzinti have invaded our territory-"

"It's a dance with those striped bastards," Sternhagen replied, pausing to drink more raktajino and grimace again. "A dance where your partner might tear your throat out if you step on their toes. Not that we couldn't take them on, if it came down to it, but Commodore Hrelle is keen not to get into any unnecessary fights, not while we're still re-establishing ourselves."

"Have you alerted him about this?" Zir asked.

"We're trying to." Sternhagen left it, and the anxiety in her voice, at that.

An alert drew all their attention before Zir could press her further, Sternhagen setting aside her mug on an adjacent table as she stored forward, raising her voice. "Report!"

Commander Haluk was first to respond, the older bearded Vulcan male looking stern and saturnine in the lights from the surrounding displays. "Explosion detected on our long-range sensors, outside the Nepenthe system."

"An explosion?" Zir breathed out, trying to contain her panic. "Was it the Commodore's Yacht? Can we contact them?"

"I told you we've tried; localised subspace interference appeared around their registered flightpath moments before the explosion, preventing communications or more detailed scanning... but the explosion possessed an isolytic element that cut through the interference, making it stand out like a supernova."

"Yeah. Just what Hrelle feared..." Sternhagen stepped forward. "Alert Sabre Squadron One! Put them on Red Alert! Order the Katana to effect a rescue, they're closest, leave the Prospero and al-Razi at the Border! And take the station to Yellow Alert!" Then she turned away, reaching for her mug, and trying to ignore the eyes of the women on the back of her head.

But Zir refused to be ignored. "Rescue? You think the Commodore and Counselor might have survived the explosion?"

"There was an isolytic charge built into the Yacht's self-destruct system," the older woman informed her, staring absently into the contents of her mug... or intently not at the others. "On orders from the Commodore. Had it just been some accidental warp core breach, we might not have picked it up in all that interference. Hrelle deliberately triggered the charge, to catch our attention. If he had time to do that, he would have had time to plan some sort of escape for the Counselor and himself."

Zir frowned in shock and disbelief. "Plan? You mean the Commodore knew that this could have happened? And he went off alone with his wife anyway?"

Now Sternhagen faced her, the Terran's voice lowering, and her expression even more sober than before, if such a thing were possible. "No, he didn't know. But Esek Hrelle didn't survive to his current age by not planning for the worst... because more often than not, the worst came looking for him.

But that doesn't mean he's going to spend the rest of his life buried in a hole, real or metaphorical, afraid to live. Something you might want to keep in mind, if you want to live as long as him."

*

Kami felt the anger from the young Kzin as he practically shoved her ahead of him.

His anger... and his arousal. She had managed to take a musk suppressant to counter her earlier medication, but it hadn't fully taken hold yet. She had no idea if Caitian pheromones would affect Kzinti, but obviously Esek had feared it, hence his frantic plea for her to take the suppressant. And from what she understood about Kzinti mating habits, they weren't exactly the gentle, tender loving types.

Stupid, stupid bitch! Her husband didn't want to take this break, and had claimed he still had too much work ahead of him in this sector to indulge. She knew that, but she practically twisted his arm to give in. If she had known that the Kzinti would take such a bold move against Esek- against both of them-

"Stop," the Kzin - ThirdSon was his name? - growled.

She turned, seeing him activate a side door, watching it slide open as he glared inside. "Get out. Go somewhere."

Kami heard the mad scramble of bodies inside, before two young Kzin males appeared at the doorway, looking at her curiously, until ThirdSon growled at them, and they scurried in the opposite direction down the corridor. Then ThirdSon looked at her again. "Get in there."

She caught the male scent in there, thicker than elsewhere, probably personal quarters. "What are you-"

He reached out and clasped her forearm, and she felt the strength in his grip, keeping herself from instinctively fighting back as he practically flung her inside, letting her see a dark, stark space, with beds and other furniture.

She backed away, keeping her eyes on him when he followed her inside, letting the door slide shut behind him. His hungry gaze confirmed what his scent told her, and she fought to control her rising panic over the growing threat.

He was stripping off his armour.

Kami had studied the Kzinti, like everyone else in Salem Sector. She knew they were stronger, faster, more ferocious than Caitians or Ferasans, that their females were bred to be little more than mute animals fit only to be kept in harims, such harims the possession of those Kzin who earn the privilege. That they had to earn names for themselves.

That they ate their enemies.

That they called themselves the 'Heroes' Race', placing an exigent, unignorable premium on honour, even employing it as a form of currency.

But of course, she had dealt with enough "honourable" cultures to know how flexible the definition can get.

Rape of a prisoner, for instance... "Your father... he promised my husband I would not be threatened or harmed!"

ThirdSon paused... but only for a heartbeat. "Yes. He promised. I didn't." He drew closer.

She glanced around surreptitiously, looking for a weapon, defence, escape-

Nothing. "If my husband finds out what you're doing-"

"Your mate will be digesting in my father's belly before the day has passed," ThirdSon promised.

Kami felt the side of one of the beds in the quarters against the back of her legs. Kami was an experienced Starfleet officer, trained in self-defence, unarmed combat. If she could strike at his eyes-

His huge paw shot out, clasping around her throat, lifting her up effortlessly from the bulkhead. She struggled to breathe, clawed futilely at his furred paw, feeling his crushing, suffocating power behind him.

He leaned in, informing her, "Resist me, and I'll break your arm first."

And then ThirdSon threw her onto the hard mattress of the nearest bed. He was on her, turning her onto her stomach, working at ripping the clothes from her with his claws.

Kami gasped for breath, his weight full upon her, her panic rising.

Survive. Don't worry about me. Do whatever it takes to stay alive.

"Why- Why is he so blind?" she asked hoarsely.

The question made him pause, his voice ragged and guttural and his breath hot against her. "What?"

"Your- Your father..." She turned her head, looking up over her shoulder at him. "Why is he so blind to you? To what you can offer him, your Pride?"

ThirdSon growled, his eyes narrowing like phaser beams. "Don't you insult him!"

"I'm not!" she insisted. "But still, it's obvious how unfair it is. You come from the same litter as your brothers, you're clearly just as good as them, if not better. And yet... they have names. Your father has never given you the opportunity to earn yours."

Now he bared his teeth, his hackles rising and his tail snapping. "Be silent! You are female! You are a dumb animal!"

Kami shook her head, trying to keep calm. "Don't let our similarities fool you. I'm not one of your females. I have a mind. I have senses and speech. I have training in observation. I have a perspective that males, both Caitian and Kzinti, lack."

ThirdSon tensed again, looking ready to bark at her for silence again, perhaps even strike her. But there was something else...

And she reached for it. "For instance... I knew that you didn't really want to hurt me. All that talk before was just anger... anger at once again being disrespected by your father, in front of your brothers, and this time in front of aliens like my husband and myself."

She rose, slowly, carefully, allowing him to draw back off him, while also letting him think he was doing it of his own volition.

Kami rose further, meeting him on a more equal footing, while still giving him the ostensible physical advantage over her. "I recognise potential, and guide males; that's how I've helped my husband rise to the rank of Commodore.

But he's getting old now. Old and fat. You saw him. He can't protect me the way he used to; how else could we have been captured so easily?"

And as she kept speaking, she focused, focused on every little reaction, reading more and more of him.

And taking him exactly where she wanted him to go.

*

Sasha raised the training sword up, speaking for the benefit of her current opponent, as well as those watching and learning. "This is a replica of a standard Kzinti broadsword: flat, double-edged, with a wide cross guard." She let the sword swivel and dance in her grip as if it was alive, to display the other parts of it. "It's heavy, and the grip is long, allowing both hands - or paws - to be employed... but, don't let that fool you. The Kzinti will quite easily use the sword with one paw while striking out at their opponents with the claws of their other paw."

She moved into a series of slashing motions. "Also, although the Kzinti swords have pointed tips, they almost always prefer wide, sweeping movements, rather than attempts at stabbing, as that can throw them off balance."

Opposite her on the central mat, Cadet Boladede stood ramrod straight, holding onto his own training sword... but his eyes followed Sasha's every motion, she noticed, studying, assessing.

She continued. "Lieutenant Mori has shown you the basic moves, the crouches and lunges and pounces that felinoids favour in unarmed combat, and how you can effectively counter those moves. I will show you the moves they'll make with their swords. And although the Kzinti are stronger, tougher and more ferocious than most of us, and have more experience with melee weapons, that doesn't make them invincible."

Sasha turned to face the cadet, raising her sword and pointing it in his direction. "We'll go through a few simple moves and counter-moves first, Mr Boladede, to get a sense of each other's skill level."

He mirrored her stance, confidently assuring her, "That won't be necessary, Lieutenant Commander. I don't want to waste your valuable-"

He didn't get a chance to finish, as Sasha launched herself at him, striking out, Boladede barely having the chance to parry.

The sound of metal on metal rang out, echoing through the gym, as Sasha kept on the offensive, not giving him a chance to do more than stay on the defensive, employing her Kaetini training to get a real assessment of the young man's skills.

He was good.

"Never let your opponent take control of the fight," she instructed the group as she did all this. "The longer they have control, the harder it gets to take it back."

They kept circling each other, Boladede starting to dodge her slashes and thrusts more easily, and even knocking her blade aside once or twice.

"Always be on the lookout for a weakness," she added.

Then she saw his weakness, in the look in his eyes: confidence, boiling into arrogance. He was showing off now.

Thanks, Bubulah, just what I was waiting for... She initiated another furious exchange of thrusts and parries between them, each opponent searching for an opening, Sasha losing control - or at least, appearing to. Boladede began forcing Sasha backwards, to the corner of the mat. The blades rang against each other, the clashes almost forming a rhythmical sequence which begged for other instruments to join in.

Meanwhile, she continued to lecture the group, making a show of sounding breathless, of slowing down her moves from fatigue. "Few- few battles- are evenly matched- it's- it's not fair- but the most- most important rule-"

Boladede knocked the sword from her grip, smiling now, the spectators gasping as Sasha fell back onto her ass-

-Giving her the chance to draw a black ballistic pistol from a hidden holster inside her jacket and point it up at her opponent.

The room held its breath... and Boladede stood, frozen with shock.

She motioned with her weapon at his sword, until he took the hint and dropped it, as she helped herself back to her feet, wincing in pain from her tailbone.

Still keeping her eye on him, still keeping her weapon pointed at him, she concluded, "The most important rule is that in a real fight, there are no rules. Fight dirty. Cheat. Kick your opponent in the balls if they have them... or even if they don't.

Take every advantage to win, to survive, because I want all of you to live long, happy lives... and because I'm sick of attending funerals." She nodded to Boladede. "As for you, Cadet... this is where you get liquidated."

Then she squeezed the trigger... and a thin stream of water shot out from the barrel and struck Boladede square in the face.

The room erupted with startled laughter.

Sasha holstered her weapon and approached, picking up the training swords and handing Boladede his. "Good workout, Cadet."

The young Nigerian accepted it brusquely, allowing the water to bead down his face like sweat as he glared at her with taut indignation, his voice crisp. "Technically, I still disarmed you, Ma'am."

Sasha grunted, wiping her forearm across her forehead. "Or, I let you disarm me, to get myself into a position where I could draw a more effective weapon against you. Or even just a bluff. You'd be amazed at how many fights are won with just a bluff." She caught the look from Weynik, and turned to Mori, handing him her sword. "Take over for me, Lieutenant." Then she approached her Captain. "Sir?"

The Roylan looked up at her. "What was that all about, Lieutenant Commander?"

"Sir?"

"Was it necessary to humiliate him?"

She shrugged, taking out her water pistol. "Better that than having him face an enemy with something more than this." She pointed it towards her open mouth and squirted some shots of water into it.

Before he could respond, the Red Alert klaxon sounded, and all banter was forgotten as everyone assembled raced out to their assigned stations, the senior officers moving as one to the Bridge, which was bathed in apple-red light from above, and Lt Grel rose from the Captain's Chair, the young Tellarite appearing grave. "Sir! Alert from Salem One! The Commodore's Yacht just blew up outside Nepenthe!"

Sasha felt her heart stop, but her body continued to move of its own volition as she joined Weynik, Mori and Lt Jor-Dakk at Tactical, the Captain reading the report. "A Kzinti Prideship- the Isolytic Protocols-" He looked up at Sasha. "Your Dad and Kami will still be alive. Helm! Nepenthe system, last known position of the Commodore's Yacht, Maximum Warp! Burn out our engines if you have to, but get us there!"

*

The room where Hrelle was taken was a hexagonal chamber of wooden-slatted walls, floors and benches, surrounding a stone pit of charcoal coals that attendants were now lighting up. It reminded him of a sauna, or a sweat lodge.

As the other Kzinti departed and the door slid shut, Saga-Var began stripping off his armour, looking to the Caitian. "Make yourself comfortable, Commodore."

Hrelle watched him for a moment, before removing his jacket, feeling the heat, and the weight around his belly in comparison with the Pridemaster. "What is this place?"

"A Private Room, for meditation, or for speaking in confidence, and candour. We will not be disturbed until we are ready." He removed the loose black bodice he wore beneath, revealing a muscled, scarred, stripe-furred torso, his tail swishing behind him as he took a seat opposite.

Hrelle drew up the sleeves of his undershirt. "I like it. I might have to get one installed on the station when I return."

"Assuming you do," Saga-Var added.

He regarded him, grunting. "Assuming I do." He sat down, breathing in as the fire between them began to crackle and rise. "Well, how does this sort of work? I'll tell you about my cubhood, my hobbies, my star sign?"

Saga-Var leaned back, breathing in deeply - and with a barely-audible wheeze, Hrelle noted - as his gaze narrowed. "Have you always hid behind facetiousness, Commodore?"

Hrelle almost responded instinctively, before checking himself; if he didn't cooperate with his captor, delay this as long as possible, then the Kzin might just decide to fight now. "No. For a good portion of my life, I was a humourless bastard, determined to prove myself; I am no longer driven by that need, but of course now I annoy all and sundry with my Dad Jokes. But it beats dying of hypertension. How did you know my wife and I were travelling to Nepenthe?"

"Does it matter?"

"I thought this was a place of confidence, and candour."

Saga-Var leaned forward and breathed out. "As I want you to trust me, and as I do not believe you will survive our duel, there is no harm in answering you: on your return to Salem Sector, we hired a Yridian to tap into one of your perimeter sensor and communication networks, to keep track of your movements. On learning of your sojourn to Nepenthe, I knew I could not let this opportunity pass unexploited, and crossed the border from the Patriarchy to intercept you."

"Thank you. 'Saga-Var' is a very strong, distinctive name. There must be a fine tale behind how you earned it."

The Kzin leaned back again, stretching out his arms to rest them on the ledge behind his bench. "Thirty-two seasons ago, when I was only known as Pack Leader to my father Thelrad-Var, I led a raiding party on the Klingon outpost on Kharessa to steal a consignment of disruptor cannons for our own ships. They did not give them up easily."

Thirty-two seasons ago? That's a long, long time for a Kzin to still be alive... "I imagine not."

The Kzinti grunted with satisfaction. "The campaign had been vicious, bloody... glorious. At one point, I had been blinded by the flash of a disruptor grenade. The Klingons I was fighting at the time thought I was helpless." He bared gleaming pointed teeth. "They didn't understand how wrong they were. Not until I feasted on them and sent their spirits to their Sto-Vo-Kor."