Surefoot 80: Heroes' Race

Hrelle started as one of the other Kzinti approached, carrying a naked sword on a black silk cloth, a sword identical to Saga-Var's.

He stared at it, as if expecting it to rise and attack him.

Then he grasped it, moved it about, measuring its weight in his paw, its balance. It was heavier than his Kaetini sword back at Salem One, but it had good balance, good heft. And he had no doubt that it would be just as good as his imminent opponent's.

He looked at Saga-Var again. "How is this going to work?"

The Kzin moved in place, adopting poses Hrelle compared to those he had learned on Cait. "We stay within the circle. We accept no help, no weapons beyond what we have with us here now. We fight without stopping, until one of us is dead."

Hrelle looked to the weapon in his paw, and then to the Kzin. "That's it?"

"What more do we need?"

*

"I'm sorry to hear that, ThirdSon," Kami confessed, with genuine sympathy... and some guilt over where she felt she had to steer this conversation to an end that will offer a hope of survival for Esek and herself. "What about a cure?"

The Kzin showed as much vulnerability now as she had yet seen in him. "There is none."

She feigned a frown. "Among your people, perhaps... but your description of the Black Shakes sounds very much like a disease we discovered a cure for long ago."

He raised his muzzle at her words. "You did? You are certain?"

She nodded. "When my daughter was born with a neurological issue, I began studying the field. Most Caitians who contract our version of the disease make a full recovery with the right treatment. I don't see why it wouldn't work the same for Kzinti, too."

ThirdSon regarded her... and then snarled derisively. "And I suppose if I arrange to free you, you will just saunter back to your station and retrieve it, eh? You take me for a fool?"

"Hush." She rose to her feet, began pacing the interior of the cabin, pretending to be deep in thought, though it was all just part of her larger plan as she continued to watch his reactions, and how she was guiding him. She kept glancing at him, as if in genuine, spontaneous conversation. "Your father... if he defeats my husband, would he be willing to keep me with him?"

The question made him straighten up. "Keep you?"

"Yes! You told me that when Kzinti fight each other in duels, the winner can claim the females in the harim of their defeated opponent. Would he be willing to do the same?"

ThirdSon frowned. "Females are for bearing cubs! You are old!"

Keep talking like that, you cheeky bastard, you're only making this easier. "Not that old, for Caitians; you smelled my musk before. And we're genetically compatible.

But even if I wasn't, I could still serve him the way I serve my husband, as an advisor. I've helped you, haven't I?"

Now he rose to his feet, his confusion and suspicion rising. "Why would you? You are in Starfleet, Hrelle is your mate."

She crossed her arms. "Starfleet is limited in scope for females. And I have grown tired of my husband, tired of his belly and his laziness and his weakness." She approached him, still studying him. "If Saga-Var wins the fight, and he takes me, I can obtain the medical expertise to have him cured... and I can also support you, make him aware of your worth, your deserving of a chance to earn a Name, a higher position within your Pride. All of us will benefit: you, me, and your father."

ThirdSon studied her closely, and she could almost see the thoughts spinning around behind his coffee-coloured eyes. It could go either way: acceptance or rejection.

"My father will destroy him," the Kzin assured her.

"Not necessarily," Kami pointed out. "Esek Hrelle is wily, full of tricks; that's how he's survived all this time." She glanced around, as if there could be others listening in on their conversation, before leaning in, resting a reassuring paw on his chest. "If you sneak me in there now, my presence, my musk, can silently distract him, throw him off, just enough for your father to take advantage."

ThirdSon frowned now, shaking his head. "I- I was ordered to secure you-"

She began purring subliminally, wondering if Kzinti would respond to it the way Caitians and humans did. "And you did. But now you have a chance to save your father, something of far greater importance. Or do you want one of your brothers to take over the Pride?"

*

The Katana rocked once more under the continued assault, Weynik gripping the arms of his chair as he watched the view on the screen before them shift between various views of the Kzinti Battleship, and the Kzinti fighters, still eating away at the Sabre-class vessel's shields. Something had to give.

"I've analysed the Kzinti shield cycle, Captain!" the Caitian reported over the chaos, "I can punch a temporary hole in it!"

"Then do it! Tie in with the Transporter!" He opened a channel. "Sasha! Stand ready!"

*

Sasha stood ready, at the forefront of the six-person Away Team, gloved hands resting on her Security tricorder on her equipment belt, her heart racing as she told the others, "Jor-Dakk, watch our backs. Ramirez, Jeeta, have ballistic weapons ready. Kastigel, Boladede, follow my lead with phasers, set them to Level 3."

"Level 6 is a more effective setting for Kzinti, Ma'am," the cadet reminded her crisply.

"Not if you accidentally hit one of the prisoners, or one of us; don't argue with me, I'm not in the mood."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And everyone, double check your sonic filters, they-"

Suddenly the Transporter Chief looked up, but had no time to warn them that the transporter was being-

-Activated, the gravity stronger, the lighting darker and the atmosphere thinner and filled with familiar musk. They were in a main access corridor, three metres wide and tall, that appeared to run the length of the ship, Sasha's mind recalling the anticipated interior layout as her tricorder checked, confirming, "Phaser dampening field confirmed! Holster phasers, draw pistols and blades!" She set the tricorder for bioscans, looking for some clues for Dad and Kami's location-

A roar ahead drew her attention, as four Kzinti emerged from an opening side door, claws and teeth bared as they charged.

She holstered her tricorder to reach for her weapon, until Boladede shoved her to one side, making her drop her pistol while raising his own. Immediately she grabbed him and pulled him down with her, shouting, "RAMIREZ! JEETA!"

Before she finished shouting, the two Security crewmen fired repeatedly, efficiently striking each Kzinti square in their chests, sending them sprawling.

Sasha gritted her teeth from the noise, before rising, glaring angrily down at the cadet. "Do that again, and I'll have you kicked out of the Academy and shipped home! Understood?"

Boladede, shaken, nodded up at her.

Then she helped him up, turning as she heard noise behind them, in time to see two more Kzinti appear, assaulting the hulking Brikari figure of Lt Jor-Dakk, forgoing weapons to attack his rock-hard skin with their bare claws and fangs. Yeah, good luck with that, Bubulahs. Still, she asked, "You need help, Lieutenant?"

Jor-Dakk seemed to have frozen for a moment, as if mocking the popular image of his people as 'living statues', before grabbing the Kzinti and slamming their heads together, casting them aside, turning and replying with typical taciturnity, "No."

Beside him, Ramirez looked at her. "What now, Lieutenant Commander?"

Good question, Sash. This ship was not the one she had expected to encounter from the original data received. "We take over this ship from within, power it down to stop its attack on the Katana, secure the Kzinti and search it from stem to stern. Come on!" She pressed forward, stepping over the bodies of the Kzinti they had brought down, following her instincts and her tricorder readings.

They emerged into a larger intersection- then barely pulled back before sharp, needle-like projectiles, fired from weapons held by ambushing Kzinti struck the surrounding walls, shattering.

Sasha felt shrapnel strike her cheek, drawing blood, as she dropped, reaching for one of her sonic grenades, shouting to her team, "Fire in the Hole!" She activated the grenade and flung it, wiping blood from her face.

A sharp concussive wave burst upwards, making Sasha's ears ache even with her sonic filters. She peered out again, seeing a dozen Kzinti sprawled across the floor like discarded dolls. "Come on, keep moving!"

They emerged from the corridor, stepping over the bodies-

-Until huge paws reached out simultaneously, the Kzinti rising, obviously more resistant to the effects of the grenade than she had hoped, and attacking, drawing swords.

Sasha drew her pistol and fired - her shots bouncing off the Kzinti's armour. She dodged his lunge, her opponent raising his sword.

She drew her own. Yeah, Tiger Boy, let's see the look on your face as I cut through your blade like melted butt-

Her Kaetini sword struck her opponent's - and didn't break it.

Oh, shit.

She stepped back, unable to take her eyes away from him to see how the rest of her team was doing. Her opponent wore colours and sigils she recognised as for someone high ranking. She pointed at him. "Surrender! Hand over your prisoners!"

He sneered at her. "I am Ullor-Var, Son of Saga-Var! I do not take orders from a female!"

She spat out blood. "You can take orders from a female, or you can take an ass-whooping from one! Which do you want, Tabby?"

The Kzin roared in defiance. "PREY! I WILL KILL AND EAT YOU!"

She roared back. "TRY IT!"

They clashed again.

*

The swords met and rang out in the Arena.

Hrelle felt the force behind the Kzin's blows, and it was all he could do to contain them, taking the sting out of their power by allowing the two blades to melt into one another. Saga-Var obviously saw that his adversary was surprised by the strength of his attack and followed up with two more hefty swings, but these were a little more clumsily delivered.

"You will fail, Caitian," grunted Saga-Var. "I have taken the measure of you: old, fat, weak, sentimental-"

"-Sick," Hrelle added. "No wait, that's you, isn't it?"

Both warriors knew the value of psychology. It was important to seem the more confident, the more knowing, the more technically skilled. Hrelle knew that his face should give nothing away. Impassive. Unyielding. Immovable. He must appear to have been there, where he stood, for centuries. To have weathered all storms; to have withstood all the elements; to have rebuffed all onslaughts. It was important that his body appeared strong, invulnerable. His strokes must be sure, confident, secure.

He must put doubt in the other's mind: doubt of his ability to breach this solid wall. Doubt of the superiority of his own skills. Any hairline crack of doubt must be widened to a gulf. His self-assurance must be the greater of the two. He must be both the irresistible force and the immovable object: two in one.

There was a brief exchange of thrusts and parries.

Saga-Var said, "Your people taught you well." It was a grudging compliment, almost as if to make up for the earlier taunts, but Hrelle knew he had surprised Saga-Var thus far.

He recalled his own sword, and the inscription in Old Caitian on its hilt. 'One Crossing At a Time.'

He repeated it to himself to give himself spiritual strength. It meant that he had a task to do. A single task. It was necessary to put his whole mind, his whole being, into the execution of that single task. All other thoughts, missions, desires, needs, concerns, must be put out of his mind until he had crossed the proverbial river that now swirled about his ankles.

The next river must be blanked from his mind. He could not think about Kami, or Sasha or Weynik or all the others, or the danger they were in. He had to think only of crossing the river of the moment. That river was Saga-Var.

The swords clashed again, Saga-Var trying to force Hrelle to the edge of the circle. Around them, the Pride males cheered and roared in support of their Pridemaster, but Hrelle took no notice. He concentrated on stemming the flood of blows and returning some of his own, to worry the opponent and keep him on edge.

The swords locked. Parted. Saga-Var ducked and wove. Hrelle followed through, missing. There was another clash of blades, Saga-Var's sword almost cutting Hrelle's head, as the latter ducked... and stumbled.

Hrelle struggled back to his feet, in real danger of being pounced upon, before he raised his sword again. Each opponent circled the other, consuming or ignoring the roars of the spectators.

Mother's Cubs, I won't survive this...

*

"Captain!" Mori called out. "Our shields are weakening!"

Weynik clutched the arms of his chair as they rocked under another volley. So what now, Captain? Retreat and leave the Hrelles and the Away team behind? Surrender to their tender mercies? Destroy the Kzinti ship and everyone onboard? Or let yourself be destroyed? Another Kobayashi Maru, another No-Win Scenario...

"Hail the Battleship," he suddenly ordered, ignoring the reactions from those around him. "Kzinti Vessel: this is Captain Weynik of the Katana. You no longer amuse me. You are not worthy of my time. You are Weak Prey." He turned to Mori, signalling him to close the hail, before adding, "Cease firing." To Grel he finished with, "Take us back to Salem One, One Quarter Impulse."

The reactions repeated, heightened, though only Mori spoke up. "Captain! The prisoners- Sasha, the Away Team-"

"I know. Helm, proceed."

The ship banked sharply to starboard, as it drew away from the enemy vessel, the attack from the fighters ceasing as the Katana left them behind.

Then Weynik drew up to the Tactical station, the perplexed Caitian male manning it visibly struggling to maintain discipline in the face of inexplicable orders. The Roylan sympathised; Mori never let the relationship he shared with Sasha onboard affect his performance, but this was pushing it to the extreme. "We're not leaving them behind. My insult will draw them to us, and they'll have to recall their fighters to catch up with us, limiting their offensive capability. And it'll buy time for the Away Team to kick some Kzinti ass."

As if in illustration, the Tactical station chimed an alert, Mori glancing down to report, "The Battleship is in pursuit, Sir. Should we fire back?"

"No. Ignore them." Oh Wide Load, I hope all your talk about how you spanked these striped bastards still holds water. And that you and Kami are still alive.

*

Saga-Var charged him again, Hrelle braced himself, raising his sword-

-And then both blades shattered.

The combatants fell down from the impact, shielding their heads from the splintered shards, Hrelle grunting as novae of pain shot up from his arm to the rest of his body. He was certain he had broken his tail and his left arm, but he had no time to do more than prepare, as the Kzin cast aside the remains of his sword and leapt upon him with a roar and bared teeth and claws. Hrelle swiped at Saga-Var's blunt muzzle with his good paw and shifted to one side.

Their eyes locked. Saga-Var cried hoarsely, "You're weakening! I can see you weakening, Caitian!"

Hrelle responded defiantly, painfully, through clenched teeth. "You see yourself, Kzin."

Saga-Var responded with another attack.

They grappled, snapping and clawing. Saga-Var drew blood, as did Hrelle. Hrelle's head spun as he felt blood soaking the inside of his uniform, his boots. He didn't dare flinch, didn't dare blink. The slightest sign of weakness would finish him off.

*

At the door to the Arena Room, ThirdSon led Kami inside, behind the spectators, the Caitian guiding them away from his Pride members to an open area, where they could see the fight, and the fighters could see them. ThirdSon leaned in to her, holding onto her forearm, his attention rapt on the combatants. "Well? How close must you be for your musk-"

Suddenly Kami dropped to her knees, twisting her body to make it look like the Kzin had forced her down, her face a mask of pain and terror as she cried out, "Esek! Please, help me! He said he'd kill me if you won!"

The fighters froze, as if caught in a transporter beam.

Hrelle looked to her in confusion and alarm, before turning back to Saga-Var, ready to condemn him for reneging on his word-

-Only to see an identical expression of confusion and alarm on the Pridemaster. Saga-Var swayed as he straightened up and stepped back, spitting out blood as he murmured in disbelief, "What have you done?"

ThirdSon's attention darted erratically between the Caitian female, his father, and the spectators, the young Kzin nonplussed. "I- I- She- She said- I- we wanted to help you-"

Hrelle looked to Kami again... now seeing, not distress, but a grim resolve.

Saga-Var stepped forward, limping, ignoring his many open, seeping wounds, as if galvanised by the taut outrage in his eyes and voice. "I did not need your help, any help, to defeat this male!

I swore on my name that his mate would not be threatened! Now I cannot conclude this and never question if your actions did not play into it! Don't you understand? You have robbed me of my victory! YOU STINKING NAMELESS OFFAL!"

Then he calmed himself - a little - as he looked at one of the spectators. "Gerder-Var... contact your brother in the Dawn Treader, have him cease the attack on the Starfleet vessel, and arrange for them to meet with us to collect the Commodore and his mate, before we return home."

Now he turned back to Hrelle, the terrible look of unjust defeat in his eyes. "I... apologise for the actions of my son. I had no paw in it. This battle is over... today."

Hrelle struggled to stay on his feet, as he looked to Kami, who extricated herself from ThirdSon's grip, straightened up, no longer appearing afraid as she stepped down into the circle and rushed up to him, embracing him carefully.

*

Sasha roared as she punched Ullor-Var in the muzzle, again and again, the Pummels on her knuckles delivering heavy neuroleptic shocks to him. But it took much more than expected for him to finally stagger back, giving her a chance to pick up her fallen sword, giving her team a once over: Jor-Dakk was as implacable as ever, Ramirez and Kastigel sported wounds but remained standing, Jeeta looked ready to keep fighting despite everything... and Cadet Boladede was back to his stoic self. Good.

Suddenly a klaxon sounded overhead, and the Kzin drew back, still in defensive positions, watching warily, but no longer fighting.

Sasha turned back to Ullor-Var, who had risen again, recovering quickly. These fuckers are tough. Not that she was going to give up. She pointed her sword at him again "So, are you gonna give up your prisoners now, Tabby? Or do you want your ass whooped some more?"

The leader was pressing something near his right ear, which Sasha guessed was some form of communicator, before he addressed her, looking angry and disgusted by what he had just heard. "They are... on our Prideship. We are... We are to stop fighting, take you to them and release you." He stabbed a claw in her direction. "But the Son of Saga-Var swears to you that we will meet again, and finish this!"

Sasha grunted, feeling one of her teeth finally loosen from its place in her mouth. She spat it and some more blood out before replying, "And the Daughter of Esek Hrelle swears the same to you, with brass knobs on... only I'll take your balls with me as a souvenir!"

*

"USS Katana, Captain's Log, Stardate 55487.05, Captain Weynik, Recording: We have retrieved Commodore and Counselor Hrelle, and my First Officer and her Away Team, and escorted the two Kzinti vessels back towards the Border, where our sister ships will ensure they do depart. Lt Cmdr Hrelle and the other members of the Team who had been injured have recovered and are already back on active duty, though they will face appointments with our ship's Counselor, Dr Vestri; if I have to still see her, they have to suffer, too.