Surefoot 82: Persona Non Grata

"Let me guess..." She rolled her eyes. "You really don't know anything about it?"

"Nope - I'm as much in the dark as you are, and the account I have is identical to yours."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

Maraud offered a slight smile. "What, you've never performed a mission where you weren't told everything?" He uncrossed his arms and held out his hands. "After all, the reason for the Away Team being on Kalandra doesn't matter, does it? Only what Beaudine did."

"Allegedly, actually."

His smile broadened. "'Actually', actually. He offered a Statement at the Indictment, confessing to everything; tomorrow is just a formality for sentencing purposes. I told you this was your legal Kobayashi Maru."

"So you did. I was trying to contact Admiral Quinn for a supporting statement, but I can't reach him anywhere."

Maraud nodded. "I reached out for him as well. He retired at the end of the War, location unknown."

"Terrific. And Bill's the only surviving member of the Team, and was only providing medical and shuttle support and wasn't briefed on the reasons."

"Like I said, why they were on that planet doesn't matter." He rested his hands on his desk now, nodding with sympathetic approval. "Is your friend seeing anyone?"

"Who, Bill?"

He smiled. "The Head Nurse, Eydiir. She's Capellan, right? A Warrior Nurse sounds... interesting. Is she available? Do you think she'd go out for some dinner when all this business is over?"

Sasha stared at him enigmatically. "I'll pass on your interest to her."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me just yet." She departed without further comment, her mind already moving onto her next move... and the next person she could turn to for advice that wasn't involved in this meshuggeneh case.

*

"Commander Haluk?"

The older Vulcan male with the beard peppered with specks of iron grey had been walking towards the wall of drinks replicators in the Cadets' Common Room on Deck 5, when he stopped and turned, straightening up formally. "Lieutenant Commander Hrelle, a pleasure to meet you again."

Sasha stopped, feeling herself moving to attention as well like she was still one of the cadets now surrounding them, despite the years since she studied under him in her Post-Graduate Tactical Training on Vulcan. "Commander, I hope I'm not disturbing you unduly-"

"What would you like to drink? It is my round."

She paused, before replying, "Coffee, any blend, as long as it's strong and sweet. I'm going to need it tonight."

She watched him order, passing her a blue ceramic cup, before following him to a set of seats nearest the entrance, the two officers sitting opposite each other, Haluk taking a seat facing the rest of the Common Room, making a show of surveying the cadets.

It attracted her attention. "Are you looking for someone in particular?"

He continued his apparent scrutiny. "No. But on occasion it serves to allow cadets to believe so." Then he raised his glass, as if making a toast. "I offer my congratulations to you, on your promotion and position."

She felt her face flush, and let her fingers take in the heat from the cup. "Thank you, Sir. But I know that if the War hadn't occurred I wouldn't have progressed as far as I have in such a short time."

"Perhaps. But the fact remains that it did occur, you have more than fulfilled the potential I have seen in you, and I have every reason to believe that you will continue to do so. Now, how may I assist you?"

Sasha attempted a smile. "What, can't I just be here to help you intimidate some Squabs?"

Haluk made no reaction.

She put down her drink, and her smile. "Normally I'd turn to my Dad, or Captains Weynik or T'Varik or Neheru for advice, but they're unavailable for various reasons."

"It is comforting to know that among your confidants I am at least in your Top Five,"

"Only on certain subjects," she quipped. "I'm afraid for romantic advice you're not even in my Top Twenty."

"For which I will express my ineffable gratitude. Please, continue."

She cleared her throat. "I've been appointed to defend Ensign Beaudine at his court martial. Captain Louvois thinks I can do it."

"Your tone suggests you believe otherwise."

She breathed out audibly. "I've never performed in a judicial setting. A friend's freedom is at stake. I don't know if I'm up to the task."

"Life is filled with challenges, and many with even greater stakes than a man's liberty. And in my own humble opinion, I believe you are eminently suited to act as Mr Beaudine's advocate: beyond your academic skills, you possess an admirable sense of empathy and loyalty to others... and you have also served extensively in combat, unlike many of those who would condemn apparent cowardice. You know it is not as simple or straightforward as it might appear. Our travails take their toll on even the seemingly strongest of us."

She considered his words. He was right. She was heavily trained in combat, in tactics, she'd been in more fights than she could count.

And yet... "The War, the Occupation of Cait, it- it affected me. Left me with issues I'll probably be dealing with for the rest of my life. None of us are invulnerable. Any of us could have done what Bill did, given enough trauma."

Haluk nodded. "There is an ancient Terran expression: 'There but for the grace of God, go I'. And it is ironic that those with the least experience of such trauma are typically the most vocal in their condemnation of individuals who have experienced it, and who have succumbed to it." He glanced around again. "Mr Beaudine is the primary subject of conversation among the cadets - a significant achievement, given it is a topic of a non-sexual nature."

"Yeah, there was quite a few of your Squabs on Broadway this morning when he was brought onboard, gawking at him like some sideshow attraction, name calling-"

He looked back at her again. "What type of name calling?"

She couldn't keep the disgust from her face. Or wanted to. "They were chanting 'Flinch'."

The Vulcan offered as stern an expression as one could expect from his race. "That will not happen again, Lieutenant Commander. I give you my word on that."

"Thank you." She leaned back in her seat. "And what's worse, I'm going in half-blind. I don't have access to the full details of the incident on Kalandra. They slapped an SSC-47 on it."

He raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? That is atypical."

She shrugged. "I'm told I have enough to do my job, that it's obvious he's guilty. He even admitted to it."

"Again, your tone suggests otherwise."

Sasha breathed out heavily, staring down into her coffee. "I have an idea. But I don't know if I want to run with it because it's the right thing to do for Bill, or because it is something I'm doing out of stubbornness, or anger or pride because I don't want to lose."

"What is your idea?"

She told him.

Haluk considered it. "You should of course discuss this with Ensign Beaudine before you attempt it, and ensure you are precise in your interpretation of the law. You will also inevitably become the object of ire among certain aforementioned parties, but I do not believe this will matter to you in the slightest.

Trust your instincts. This advice is not logical, but that does not abrogate its truth.

And I offer this: the outcome of any trial, any experiment, any battle, is never obvious. There are always other circumstances to be considered."

*

Salvo struck out.

Hrelle blocked her, twisting her arm and flipping her back to the mat. Again.

The Nova Roman spun around and fluidly returned to her feet, taking another defensive stance, conceding, "You are very good, Commodore..."

He smiled, his tail swishing lazily behind him, his loose white workout clothes a contrast to his dark mahogany furred body, mirroring her stance. "You mean, for someone as old and fat as me?"

"Of course." She charged, striking and kicking with ferocity. She had engaged regularly with her commanding officer since taking this post... and each time, her respect for him grew, despite herself and her initial hostility at his treatment of her. He was good... and not just for someone as old and fat as he was. After his recent experiences with the Kzinti, she had expected him to cower away and avoid future conflict with them, or anyone else.

Instead, he doubled his efforts to hone his skills and build up his strength. He reminded Salvo of her father... if her father went without shaving for a few decades and grew a tail, of course. "I thought you would have taken the morning off, to watch your weakling daughter make a disgrace of herself defending that wretched coward." She struck out again.

He dodged her latest strike, but this time reached out and grasped her by the wrist. She drew in instinctively, grappling with him fully, hoping her strength and youth would suffice to topple him.

It almost worked. His hot musky breath was on her face, his gleaming sharp teeth bared... and it was at times like this that she was reminded of how easily, how very easily, he could win the fight, with his fangs and claws. But he maintained control.

More than she did, it seemed at times. And Hrelle had been forgiving of her, and true to her. Was that why Louvois' orders to spy on him secretly gnawed at her insides like a rat?

Her thoughts distracted her enough to have him drop her to the mat again, as he stood over her, cracking his knuckles. "Bill Beaudine is no coward."

She grunted. "The events detailed in the news tell a different tale."

"There is far more to that young man than what happened on Kalandra VII. Examine his record. Read his achievements. One act, however critical, should not be allowed to define a whole man... or woman. Many, like Louvois, dismissed me as a traitor and renegade, for being captured and enslaved by the Orions. Some have dismissed you as an ignorant barbarian, for being demoted."

"Demoted by you," she reminded him. "I am driven by the Nova Roman virtues of Duty, Courage, Tenacity. What Beaudine did goes against those."

"There are other Nova Roman virtues," he reminded her. "Mercy, Compassion, Humanity. They are of equal value." He held out his paw to her. She grasped it, letting him lift her back to his feet. He breathed out. "And I wanted to compliment you on how you handled the incident on Broadway with the prisoner... and how you've performed overall. That won't be forgotten, Lieutenant."

He left her at a momentary loss for words, before settling for, "Who has dismissed me as an ignorant barbarian?"

"I'll never tell." He clasped a furry paw on her forearm. "Another good workout, Lieutenant. Thank you."

She worked the muscles in her neck, silent for a few heartbeats, before she raised her chin defiantly. "I will defeat you one day, Commodore."

He smiled. "I have no doubt, Lieutenant. But not today."

*

Salem One, like most facilities in space, by necessity operated continuously, typically on a three-shift pattern. But not every feature onboard did the same. And some, like the Starjammers, wore different hats at different times and different days, acting as a cafe, a bar, and a dance hall.

Tonight, the bar was open, with off-duty personnel, midshipmen and civilians crowded around the bar and the surrounding tables, while generic music played in the background.

Near the entrance, Maraud sat, nursing his drink, his Efrosian eyes enjoying the reduced lighting here. Less so the background noise.

Or his uninvited company: Louvois' Security Officer Lt Nizig and some of his cronies. The Suliban male had fastened himself onto Maraud since intercepting Beaudine and bringing him and themselves here, offering his uninvited opinion on it, and most everything else. "You should push for the death penalty."

Maraud paused, making the remains of his drink swirl in his glass, not even going to dignify the advice with an answer. He had hoped for a short break, to get a sense of what his new posting had to offer, in peace. Clearly it was not to be.

"Seriously," Nizig continued, at the prompting of his cronies. "You need to make an example of that Flinch."

"Yeah," supported one of Nizig's anonymous minions. "I bet we'll be at War again in a year's time, against the Romulans or Klingons or someone else. People have to know what'll happen to cowards."

Nizig leaned in, adding reassuringly, "Anything you need, anything at all, we've got your back."

"Thanks." He finished his drink and set the glass down, rising. "I'd better get some sleep."

He barely stepped outside and down the curved corridor to the lifts and the station quarters, when he stopped at the rapid approach of the station's Chief Nurse, her bright blue eyes flaring with anger. He stopped and smiled, in what he hoped would be a de-escalating gesture. "Good evening... Eydiir, isn't it?"

"Not to you." She stopped before him, her stance aggressive but still carefully controlled - she was a warrior, everything he had heard about her - as her nostrils flared. "It is 'Chief Nurse' to you, or 'Lieutenant', or preferably nothing at all, as you stay away from me unless absolutely necessary."

"Oh? And what has prompted this hostility?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"My friend tells me you are interested in... intimacy... with me."

He grinned. "Well, technically I said 'dinner', but that's usually a start-"

"It will not happen!" she declared defiantly. "I do not associate with those who seek to harm my friends!"

Maraud frowned in confusion, before responding with, "You mean Ensign Beaudine? Chief Nurse Eydiir, I can assure you that I hold no personal malice towards your friend, or any feelings at all in fact; I'm simply doing my duty. I was assigned to prosecute him, and I'll do so, to the best of my abilities. If I had been assigned to defend him instead, I would be doing that with equal vigour."

Now she sneered. "So, you are merely a legal weapon, a drone, with no feelings as to your target or purpose? How laudable."

He smirked in response. "Do your Capellan thigh muscles help you leap to such incredible conclusions? Because if they're that strong, that offers some intriguing possibilities."

She crossed her arms, scowling. "You'll never find out; I have standards. I only associate with people of integrity."

Maraud nodded. "So, if I prove to be a man of integrity, that means you'll... associate with me?"

Eydiir growled, turned on her heels and stormed off.

He watched her depart... deciding to not press his luck and let her get some distance before returning to his quarters.

*

Hrelle sat on his couch, half-perusing the screen on the PADD in his paw and half-watching as Misha played Purr-Prowl-Pounce with his minder, Sre Gyver Timbrel, the black-maned equinoid deftly holding the round playing cards in his hooves, setting down one of his cards onto the table, his voice soft and velvety as always. "I believe my option at this point would be to declare Prowl."

Misha chuckled, clutching his own hand like a veteran gambler on Argelius. "Yes, you do that!" He reached out with his paw and retrieved the card, studying his hand, rearranging it... and glancing up every so often at the wall chrono.

"You will still be going to bed at 2100 Hours, Master Misha," Gyver reminded him. "Regardless of how long you might delay this game."

The cub growled. Hrelle chuckled. "You know, you still don't have to remain, Mr Timbrel. I'm here, and their mother will be home soon."

"Thank you once again, Commodore, but I see you continue to work. I must maintain my oath of fealty to my duties." He set down his cards. "Pounce."

Misha grinned and set his own cards down. "I have Full Paws! I win! You see, Papa? You see?"

Hrelle looked in their direction. "Congratulations. You win a good night's sleep in your bed, now go and claim it."

The cub's look of victory quickly dampened into a grumble, but he hopped off his chair, walked around and hugged Gyver. "Nanight, thank you for minding me again."

"My pleasure, Master Misha."

Then he rushed over and hugged his father, reminding him, "Send Mama in to say Nanight!"

"I will. Good night, Warrior Prince."

As the cub departed, Hrelle set aside his PADD. "Thank you again, Mr Timbrel. You have been invaluable to us since we arrived here."

The equinoid rose to his feet, adjusting the sleeves of his preferred white robes. "I am most pleased to be of service. Misha has spoken at length of his prior minder, and has compared me favourably to him."

Hrelle smiled. "Jhess Furore." His thoughts returned to the spotted Caitian male, who had remained behind on the Motherworld to be reunited with his estranged family, and help rebuild the Militia following the Occupation. "Both of my cubs loved him dearly, and I'm glad that you've been equally embraced."

"Yes - though I have been told that my predecessor engaged Master Misha and Miss Sreen with many songs, a talent I fear I do not possess. But I could still try-"

"No. Be yourself. You deserve to be unique." And I deserve not to have so many cub songs earworming into my brain again. "Would you care for a drink?"

"Thank you, no, I will leave you for the evening." He bowed slightly. "Good night, Commodore."

"Good night, Mr Timbrel." He walked the young Paladel male to the door, before returning to the couch. But he wasn't settled for more than a few seconds before the door to his cubs' quarters slid open again, and he expected Misha, mooching for a late night snack or drink.

He didn't expect Sreen waddling out - how did she get herself into her exoframe and out of her crib? Misha must have done it, probably to give himself some peace and quiet - and dragging the bag that normally carried her diapers and cleaning kit... but was now stuffed with what appeared to be her favourite plush shuris toy. She zig-zagged across the length of the living room, the outer portions of the exoframe that helped her overcome her Neurodystaxia visible on her paws and feet as she moved from furniture to furniture, pausing for breath and to get her bearings.

Hrelle watched her curiously for a moment, before asking, "Are you going somewhere, Princess?"

"Yes." She gritted her teeth and toddled towards the table now, babbling something that sounded suspiciously like Klingon profanity as she reached it and almost tipped over.

"May I ask where?"

"Gamma and Gampas! I make new song for them!"

Hrelle nodded sagely. "All the way back to sing to them on Cait, huh? That's quite a distance. Do you want me to pack a lunch to take with you?"

"No time, Cuddamonkee! Sreen go now!" Her stubby tail wriggled with effort as she pointed herself towards the door to their quarters and began waddling towards it. He smiled with pride, knowing that the doors wouldn't open for her, but wanting to see how far she would get.

As she neared her destination, and he was ready to rise and retrieve her, the doors parted first, and Kami entered, stopping, squatting and sweeping up her daughter before the cub could topple over in surprise from her mother's return. "And where do you think you're heading off to at this time of night?" She drew up to Hrelle, untangling the bag from Sreen's grip and dropping it, while directing her subsequent questions to him. "When she should be in bed, instead of wandering around to Mother knows where?"

Hrelle set aside the PADD. "She wasn't wandering, she was going to Cait to sing to her grandparents. She told me so."

Kami stood there for a moment longer, before silently taking Sreen away, the young cub pleading to him, "No! Help me, Cuddamonkee!"

He waved to her, smiling. "Good night, Princess."

Moments later, his wife returned. "Don't."

He leaned forward and picked up his beer. "Don't what, Sugartail?"