Surefoot 82: Persona Non Grata

"You," Eydiir announced, striding up and staring at Maraud.

Sasha started to comment, before thinking twice, turning and walking away.

The Capellan stuck out her chin. "You have ended up behaving honourably. You are not as execrable as I first surmised."

Maraud smiled. "That's literally the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

She crossed her arms. "Given my earlier declaration, I am now obliged to accept your invitation for dinner."

The Efrosian regarded her for a moment, before announcing, "Nope."

She frowned. "Nope?"

He shook his head. "Not on obligation. You call me when you really want to have dinner with me."

Then he departed, Eydiir staring at the back of him as she muttered, "Swine."

*

Salvo had been on her way back to Security when Louvois rushed up to her. "Lieutenant! Have you got the proof?"

She stopped and turned to face the other woman, standing formally. "Excuse me, Ma'am?"

"The evidence! Of Hrelle's interference! That little Deus Ex Machina his daughter pulled off must have come from him! I ordered you to watch him and get me proof! I offered you the chance to earn your old rank!"

Salvo scowled, her face and stance tightening. "I found no evidence... and Commodore Hrelle was off-station for most of the proceedings anyway." She leaned in closer and added with a hiss through clenched teeth. "And I cannot be bought, at any price. Now, if you will excuse me, I am in the midst of finishing my report on your former Security Officer Nizig for his crime. Perhaps he will consider a plea bargain if it turns out he had received similar secret orders from someone?"

*

Hrelle walked into his quarters, a sleeping Misha slumped over one shoulder like an overcoat as he smiled at Kami, his voice soft. "Hello-" He stopped and frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Shh..." She was kneeling on the floor, with Sreen on her back on her changing mat, the infant clad in a top and diaper but with her exoframe beside her, looking like an Art Deco scorpion sculpture or a miniature version of a Drydock cage. Kami was cooing, "Go on..."

"Mama!" Sreen growled. "Pick me up!"

"No... go on, do it... you've done it before... show your Papa and me..."

"Show us what?" Hrelle asked.

"Cuddamonkee!" Sreen called out angrily. "Help me!"

"No, Princess," Kami told her gently. "Cuddlemonkey isn't going to help you. Now go on, show Papa and me what you can do."

"Kami, what in the Seven Hells-"

Suddenly Sreen screwed up his stubby muzzle in impatience, in a voice that was uncannily very much like her mother's, ordered, "Engage Frame!"

The adjacent exoframe dutifully lit up, scittering towards the infant like an insect, gently manipulating Sreen, sliding under her clothing and touching the appropriate pressure points. Once sufficient neural connections were made, Sreen rolled herself onto her belly and started helping herself up.

"Mother's Cubs..." Hrelle whispered. "How- How did she do that?"

Kami watched her daughter, a wealth of emotions in her voice and eyes. "In order to give users full independence, exoframes have verbal command abilities, and are attuned to their users' bioreadings so they can always find them. I programmed her frame to respond to my voice, testing it, and letting it help me get her up in the morning when I was in a rush. It never occurred to me that she would be watching, listening, all this time... and probably testing it herself when she was alone in bed at night, trying to get the pitch and tone just right."

"But she sounded almost exactly like you! It was uncanny!"

She nodded, watching as Sreen crawled to her father's feet, chuckling to herself at her triumph. "When Jhess first mapped her brain after she was born, he noted a very strong vocal, linguistic and musical acuity. We've mostly seen it manifest in her singing; now we know she can do more... when she wants something bad enough."

Hrelle bent down with a grunt and lifted up Sreen in his free arm, purring against her. "And it let her climb out of her crib?"

"With her Neurodystraxia, we never really secured that crib the way we might for ordinary cubs her age."

He felt Sreen wrap her arms around his neck, and he smiled as he breatehd in her scent. "Well... it's reassuring."

"Reassuring?"

"Yeah - to see that she's not the helpless little bundle of fur that some might imagine when they first see her. Nothing's gonna stop her from getting what she wants."

"That's what's going to keep me up at nights." She rose back to her feet. "Come on, let's get them to bed... and from now on, I'll switch off the voder interface on the exoframe."

Minutes later, they returned to the living room, Hrelle moving to the drinks cabinet. "I saw on the updates that Bill's court martial went well for him. I knew Sasha could help him. All of you. He was in good paws here."

"Hmph."

He glanced at her with a look of innocence while he poured them both some Spican flame whiskey. "And he'll be based here? Good." He returned to the couch with both glasses.

She accepted it. "He still has a long road ahead: the experiences during the War, during captivity, the court martial, the revelations about Kalandra. He might not stay in Starfleet after he gets his head together."

"Well, at least that'll be his choice." He raised his glass to her in salute. "Thanks to Sasha and you and everyone else who helped."

"Yes. Everyone else who helped. Speaking of Starfleet, how was our son's Birthday Adventure?"

"Successful, I think. He learned to fly dangerously, we ate bad foods and watched inappropriate videos..." He paused to sip at his drink. "I told him about my Papa, and the choices that could be out there for him if he someday chooses something other than Starfleet."

Kami breathed in the strong scent of the whiskey. "And did he make that List for you?"

"Oh, yes. If he didn't go into Starfleet, he would be happy to be: a Kaetini warrior, a wild shuris rider, a rescue pilot like his older brother Mirow, something called a 'fart expert', or a Song and Dance Cat."

"I'm glad he took the exercise seriously." Kami smirked. "Well, Papa Mi'Tree will be happy at that last one, knowing he's inspired his grandson."

"Actually, I think Dick Van Dyke in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang inspired him. He had excellent timing for a human."

Kami made a sound and set aside her glass, curling up against Hrelle. "Speaking of timing, you showed some yourself, getting that information to Sasha."

He drank again. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

*

Weynik breezed into his quarters, wanting a break after the last couple of days, and a chance to be with his family again... only to see an addition to it all. Even as Naida and Jaxan ran or toddled to him, he focused on Tamati, sitting on the couch with his mother, while home videos of the family - in particular Weynik as a boy - played on the wallscreen. "Captain? What are you doing here?"

Tamati smiled. "'Captain'? I thought we'd gotten past that."

Tallus smiled as well at her son. "You'll definitely have to get past that, after I've given away all your secrets... 'Spunky'."

*

Elsewhere, in a darkened bedroom, an alert chimed from a nearby desktop.

In the bed, Arik Rhov paused. "What the-"

Under him, Zir Dassene muttered, "Commodore's back on the station. Never mind."

"Oh? But don't want you to-"

With a burst of her remaining strength, she manoeuvred him around until she was on top. "I'm off duty. If he needs me, he'll call..."

*

Sasha stood in the middle of the unoccupied Courtroom, looking at the flags of Starfleet and the Federation flanking behind the Judges' Table.

"Here you are!" a very familiar voice boomed in the empty surrounding space.

She turned and smiled as Hrelle drew up and hugged her. "And here you are, Fat Cat, back after gallivanting around the Galaxy with my baby brother getting into all sorts of mischief, I'm sure."

"Well, I wanted to, but Misha's far too mature for that sort of thing." He pulled back to smile at her. "Congratulations on your triumph here. Not that I didn't think you couldn't manage it-"

"With a little help from my friends." She gave him a sly smile. "And you, no doubt, making some discreet calls to Admiral Arrington."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He looked around as well, his expression sobering. "I heard about Louvois' Security Officer breaching your personal records; I'm so sorry."

She grunted, feeling her temperature rise. "Forget it, Dad. He's resigned his commission, and will get a Misconduct Discharge that'll follow him into the civilian sector, so at least there'll be no trial. Have you gone to see him?"

Hrelle's expression shifted, grew darker. "No. No, Sash, that wouldn't be wise. That wouldn't be wise in the least. I might end up back here, and one court martial per lifetime is enough." He looked around as well now. "What are you doing here? I thought you and Bill and the others might want to throw a victory party."

She sighed, admitting, "It was mooted... but Bill wasn't feeling up to it, and I thought it would be a dick move to want to go and throw myself a party. Besides, I just want to go to bed and sleep for a few days before shore leave ends."

"Then why are you here? Thinking about switching professions?"

"No." She looked around again. "You know they used to make entertainment shows out of trials? They'd have audiences cheering and booing and setting odds and arguing on social media and spouting their bullshit opinions like it was some fictional show instead of real life... and real death. It was dressed up to be 'educational', 'informative'... but it wasn't anything much different from the gladiatorial games of ancient Rome. I thought we'd outgrown all that. What do you think?"

Hrelle set a reassuring paw on her shoulder. "I think you should put all this behind you and move onto more important matters... like what you're gonna get your little brother for his tenth birthday."

She smiled and reached inside her jacket. "Oh, I've got that all sorted out already, courtesy of Sirizo's on Broadway." She produced a small, slim box with controls on one side. "Check this out." She activated it, and it made a loud raspberry sound, as she grinned. "A Fart Machine. Recordings of a thousand different fart sounds from every known race. Do you think he'll like it?"

As it continued to make various obvious noises, Hrelle looked dubious. "Well, 'Fart Expert' is one of his alternative jobs. His Mama and I will be cursing you for weeks to come." He reached out and switched it off. "Come on, we both have work to do."

*

Cadet Boladede was on Broadway, following the rest of his Squad towards the Commissary, when he saw Sasha at the far end, seeing her part from her father to speak with some station personnel. She remained beautiful, powerful. He had secretly watched the rest of the trial, disobeying Commander Haluk's orders. It was worth it. She had been magnificent, as formidable in the Courtroom as on the Battlefield-

"Ange?"

He started, mentally kicking himself for allowing himself to be distracted by Sasha enough to have someone sneak up on him, even if it was his Caitian colleague C'Riir. "What is it?"

C'Riir drew up to him, glancing down at the far end of Broadway before lowering his voice. "Ange... you need to let her go."

The Nigerian felt his jaw tighten. "I do not know what you're talking about."

C'Riir tapped the tip of his own nose. "This is one of my people's most treasured gifts. With a little practice, we can not only track someone by their scent, but know their emotional states, even their relationship statuses. I've scented your attachment to Lt Cmdr Hrelle. Sorry, but it's never gonna happen."

Boladede faced him, burying his embarrassment and vulnerability. "You know nothing. You are as much a fool as that Ferengi you choose to befriend."

C'Riir remained sympathetic, unmoved by the insult, as he nodded in Sasha's direction. "She's older, she's a senior officer who will not get involved with a cadet... and perhaps most importantly, she's bonded with Lt Mru Mori."

Despite himself, Boladede glanced down again at Sasha, seeing her joined now by her Caitian colleague from the Katana. Embracing him. Nuzzling him.

Giving him all the things that Boladede deserved from her. "Bonded..."

"Yes. Caitians - and humans who live around Caitians long enough - become accustomed to the scents of loved ones. They bond. Any Caitian who met the two of them would know they were bonded, and unavailable to others. It's not a casual thing, it's a 'Til Death Do You Part thing. Let her go." C'Riir smiled. "Now come on, let's catch up with the others before Gela spends all our Squad credits on grub worms."

Boladede forced himself to look away from Sasha and her paramour, nod as if in agreement and follow his fellow Squad member. "I... appreciate your insight. Please do not speak of this to anyone else."

"Of course not," the Caitian confirmed.

The human composed himself. C'Riir had been correct, of course. Boladede would never be able to claim Sasha Hrelle for himself.

Not while her current lover lived.

*

Hrelle re-read the report on the Highwaymen from Captain Blum. "Anything more on them?"

Zir didn't immediately respond, prompting Hrelle to glance up at his Adjutant. "Lieutenant? Problem?"

She blinked, flushing with chagrin. "Sorry, Sir, I, uh, didn't get much sleep last night. I, ah, had a lot of work to do."

Her scent, and the smirk from Sternhagen, sitting beside them in his office, spoke volumes, and he suppressed a smirk as he noted, "Zir, I've told you before, you're working too hard."

"Yes," Sternhagen agreed with more open teasing. "You need to lie back sometime and let others do the work. Maybe Lt Arik could help you with that?"

Zir shot her a dirty look, as Hrelle raised a paw to cut off further banter. "The Blum report, Lieutenant?"

"Oh, uh, yes, Sir: they've reported the suspected ships have returned to the regular shipping lanes, matching the submitted flight manifests. And I've prepared a report on the current facilities on Elba II, as per orders from Captain Sternhagen: it was formerly a restricted facility for the treatment of mental illness, before being shut down and abandoned. There is a private orbital transit station for starships there, nothing of note on any reports from Starfleet Security."

He nodded. "Forward the report on the Highwaymen to Starfleet Security, and ask them for a Class III Investigation on the Transit Station. Now that the court martial mishigas has passed, we can focus on existing problems."

"Fine by me," Sternhagen agreed, adding, "Speaking of the court martial: well done on that last minute intervention from SI you pulled."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He looked up to see Louvois enter Ops, see him through his window, and approach. "We'll finish this later. Dismissed."

The women rose as one, Sternhagen seeing Louvois as well. "I'll give you a year's salary if I can stay and listen."

"Dismissed." He leaned back in his chair and watched them depart, Sternhagen offering Louvois a look as they passed each other.

The JAG Officer ignored the other women and entered, standing formally before him. "Commodore, you asked me to come see you?"

He remained behind his desk, reading from a PADD as he replied, "No, Captain. I ordered you to come see me. For someone so vocal these last few days about my following orders, you show less consistency applying such diligence to yourself." He held up the PADD in his paw. "I've been busy catching up on Ensign Beaudine's court martial via your report... including the comments you added about Sasha's participation."

He read from it. "'Lt Cmdr Hrelle showed potential in the performance of her appointed legal duties, with a talent for rhetoric that helped compensate for her ingrained flaws in areas of experience, discipline, maturity and respect for authority'." He set the PADD down again. "Coming from you, that's practically a love letter, Captain."

Louvois eyed him suspiciously. "Are you ordering me to amend my report to present your daughter in a more complimentary light, Commodore?"

"Not at all; Sasha would be the first to admit her faults... unlike some. And anyway there's enough evidence in your history to show that your opinion isn't taken seriously by anyone."

"Excuse me... Sir?"

He leaned back in his chair. "Your personnel record was released to me, as your new Commanding Officer, but I've only had the chance to examine it in detail. You've been praised by your previous CO's for your aggressive zeal when prosecuting - not surprising, really, you don't get a nickname like the Mugato by being passive, do you? - with almost equal criticism for not knowing where to stop, and a petulance whenever you lost a case... things not exactly unknown to me already, having been on the receiving end.

You've also been censured for a lack of interest in low-profile cases, ones that might not garner you the attention you feel you deserve, and get you closer to those Admiral's pips you've probably had your eye on since you were a cub holding Teddy Bear Court in your bedroom." He looked up at her directly. "Comment, Captain?"

Louvois stared back, asking, "Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

He waved a paw at her. "Be my guest."

He noted the shift in her stance and scent, allowing herself an unleashed aggression. She leaned forward over his desk, resting her fists on the surface, her voice silken and venomous. "I don't give a damn what other people think of me - including you. I certainly won't apologise for having ambition, a goal, one greater than being here in this... pesthole of an outpost, under the command of a murderer, a monster."

"Sweet talker."

Her eyes glared. "I haven't forgotten those videos of you in the Orion Deathmatches. I haven't forgotten the Beast."

Hrelle stiffened, the memories still strong despite the years. "Neither have I, Captain. Neither have I. But surely my achievements since then must count for something in your eyes?"

She scowled in disdain. "They should never have reinstated you to Starfleet. You can't be trusted, not after all you've done. They should never let you have access to cadets, to children!"

His gaze fixed on her. "You should take a moment, Captain. Take a moment and thank whatever deities you might hold dear, that my wife wasn't present to hear you say that last part."

"I know you disobeyed orders and interfered in the court martial-"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She persisted, relentlessly. "I know you contacted Arrington and somehow convinced him to declassify the files on Kalandra VII. I know that you just couldn't resist getting involved when it had something to do with one of your precious former cadets... or your disrespectful bitch of a daughter."

Her determined glare narrowed. "Well, Hrelle, if you think this is going to be the end of it, you can think again. I'm going to devote all my time here to uncovering the Truth."

Hrelle seemed to consider her words, before rising slowly from his chair. "You should be careful about doing something like that, Captain. The trouble with uncovering the Truth is you can never predict what else might be dug up along the way.

The War, and your own failings, stalled your plans at renown and promotion for a time. But then you somehow earned a plum assignment at Deep Space Twelve: a large, prominent position, with the potential for some high-profile cases that would finally get you noticed in a favourable light by the Judge Advocate General."

He walked around his desk, never taking his eyes off of her. "And then Ensign Beaudine was arrested, and I bet your heart grew three sizes that day when you thought you would be prosecuting him, an ostensibly notorious criminal responsible for the deaths of his crewmen. Until the JAG decided to move him, and you, here, to minimise the publicity and exposure, with you acting as Judge instead of Prosecutor.