Surefoot 87: Art of Being Broken

Kami nodded at that. "Fine, you can sit and start your extra homework at the table while Sreen and I have some chocolate wobble, pistachio and peach."

Misha frowned. "You can't do that! That's cruel!"

Kami almost burst out laughing, when she saw Sasha stride up to them, her face and stance taut with anger. "What the Hell do you think you're doing, extending Mru's medical leave? He was cleared to return to active duty by our Counselor-"

"What's wrong with Mru?" Misha asked, bemused.

"Sasha, calm down-"

The young woman pointed a finger at her, her face reddening now. "You have no right to do that!"

Sreen began mewling at the sudden anger within her family, and Kami purred to her while trying to calm down the young woman. "Sasha-"

"Why you yell at Mama?" Misha demanded.

Sreen was crying now.

"Just because you have a problem with me, you have to take it out on him-"

Kami roared in Sasha's face.

Sasha staggered back in shock, and others around them stopped and reacted. Kami ignored the others, pointing back at her now. "Not another word, Lieutenant Commander, or I'll have you on Medical Suspension with immediate effect!" Still trying to calm down Sreen, she saw Maggiore, the elderly Paserak female who operated as the station's Creche Supervisor. "Respected Mother, would you please take the cubs into the Cafe for a moment?"

The kindly reptoid drew up, arms outstretched. "Gladly, Counselor." She accepted the toddler, beckoning to Misha. "Please, Warrior Prince, I need your assistance to select a treat from the menu..."

Kami nodded gratefully, before facing Sasha again. "Now, follow me!"

To her credit, Sasha complied, as Kami found a quiet alcove near the lifts, before turning on the human, her voice low and angry. "Firstly, don't ever speak to me like that again, in private or in public, and especially not in front of your brother and sister! Is that clear?"

Sasha looked ready to retort, before pursing her lips and making a guttural assent, while still glaring defiantly at Kami.

Kami remained angry. "Secondly, don't ever suggest that I would use my medical responsibility to enact some perceived petty revenge on you. Is that clear, too?"

Sasha folded her arms, somehow managing to scowl even more deeply, grunting.

A memory, of her firstborn Mirow making an identical expression at age six when she refused to let him climb onto the roof of the Clanhouse to play Skycats, surfaced. And it was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud and ruining the mood she wanted to present now, but it calmed her down a little. "Thirdly, you are a senior officer in Starfleet, second in command of a starship... and your father's daughter! Show some discipline when you're in public. Is that-"

"Yes," she hissed through clenched teeth. "All clear. Now, Counselor, may I respectfully ask for the reason you rescinded Counselor Vestri's diagnosis regarding Lt Mori?"

Kami regarded her archly. "Well, since you've asked so nicely: I spoke with Mru in your guest quarters, and re-evaluated the initial findings. It happens, sometimes, as part of my role as Chief Counselor, and it's no reflection on Bes' abilities... but what Mru has gone through is more than just the hull breach, it's that, on top of what you both experienced on Cait. In the camps."

Mention of the Occupation camps made Sasha pale, the anger draining from her like she had a hull breach of her own. "It's my fault."

"What?"

"It's my fault. I pushed him. Pushed him back into active duty before he was ready. He didn't want to let me down.... I was so wrapped up in my own problems, in doing my job, I couldn't see that the man I love needed help-"

Kami could see the anguish rising within the younger woman, and reached out to clasp her by her upper arms. "No, Sasha. That was never your sole responsibility. It was down to others... including Mru himself, recognising the need for further help for himself.

We're not fictional characters in some ongoing storyline, experiencing trauma and being patched up and ready to go by the next story. Healing is not linear or scheduled, as you know." She smirked. "You are so like your Papa; he'd blame himself for starting a supernova."

Sasha grunted. "Bet I could start one, if it pissed me off."

Kami smiled now. "You're not still mad at me for what I said this morning, are you?"

"Hmm? Nahh, it was a stupid idea."

"No it wasn't, it was lovely... but maybe something to consider at a later date. Now, let's get your brother and sister before they charm the stuffing out of Maggiore."

They returned to the Cafe, finding the cubs, the Paserak, and other patrons, all entranced by a familiar figure in black and red, performing tricks with cards, rubber balls, gold rings and other small objects, producing applause with each feat.

"Who the Hell's that?" Sasha asked, whispering.

"The owner of the new nightclub, Tarot." She watched, tensing slightly as he looked in her direction. "Counselor, may I ask your son to assist me with my final trick?"

Kami felt all eyes on her, but she nodded in acquiescence.

Latrelle dropped to one knee and beckoned for an enchanted Misha to approach. As he did, Latrelle produced a large gold egg, holding it between his fingertips with the pointy end up. "Mr Hrelle, this is something very magical: it's an Anything Egg. That means that with the right words, it can hatch just about anything you can think of." He looked around at the crowds. "As long as it doesn't breach Station Safety Regulations, of course."

He looked back at Misha. "So, what would you like to see hatch from this?"

The cub's eyes lit up. "A Caitian sand newt!"

"What colour?"

"Purple!"

Latrelle chuckled. "Do you want it to have wings?"

"YEAH!"

With his free hand, Latrelle waved over it three times, speaking in some untranslatable language - or just plain babble - before asking Misha, "Tap the top of the egg three times!"

Misha extended his forefinger and complied. The egg popped open, and what looked to Kami like a Caitian sand newt, but unnaturally winged and purple-skinned, broke free from the shell, screeched, flapped its wings and flew upwards, with all eyes following its ascent into the rafters of Broadway, to the rapturous applause of the crowd.

Latrelle crushed the remains of the egg into a glittery powder and blew it out of his hand, shaking Misha's paw in thanks before returning to his feet, proclaiming loudly, "The Grand Opening of Tarots is at 2000 Hours tonight! We'll have live music from the very talented duo of Randall and Hopkirk, as well as real and replicated drinks, and dancing 'til dawn, whenever that is out here! You're all welcome!" He pointed at Misha. "You and your little sister will be welcome when you're eighteen!"

As the crowd dispersed, Kami and Sasha approached, Misha rushing up to Kami. "Mama! Did you see? I made a purple Caitian sand newt! With wings!"

"So I saw." She eyed the man. "I thought you said you didn't employ technology with your tricks, Mr Latrelle."

He chuckled. "No, I said my father didn't. Me, I'll take all the help I can get." He looked at Sasha now, bowing slightly. "Lieutenant Commander Sasha Hrelle, First Officer of the USS Katana. You would surely grace Tarot with your divine presence tonight. And for you, the drinks will be on the house!"

"I don't drink, Mr Latrelle," she informed him.

He smiled. "Well, then, do you like snacks? Chicken wings, nachos, barbecued shrimp, crab cakes, hush puppies, onion rings-"

"Sasha likes snacks!" Misha offered helpfully. "She'll eat anything you put in front of her!"

Kami rested a paw on her son's shoulder, trying not to laugh at Sasha's reaction to her brother's declaration.

*

Deck R1, Operations - 1625 Hrs:

Kami could scent the mood around her as she entered, but chose to ask, "Well? How'd it go?"

Esek turned away from a new face in the group, an older pale-skinned human male with Commander's pips who stood with a confident if cautious mien, to face his wife. "The Paserak have called a temporary halt to their attacks on our ships, as they examine the evidence we sent them. The Ferengi colony is demanding reparations; Commissioner Nam-Seon is negotiating with them now to offer them shared use of the subspace communications network we've set up."

She frowned. "Wouldn't we have offered that to them anyway, to keep them from trying to set up their own and causing interference?"

He smiled. "Yes, but they don't know that. I've also assured our colonies and stations that we're not holding a Going Out of Business Sale anytime soon, while also confirming with Admiral Raner that I've not become the next Garth of Izar."

She reached up and patted my muzzle. "That's my Big Commode. Now, how can I save your furry asses this time?"

He growled and pulled back, indicating the new human. "This is Commander James Somerset, our new Intelligence Officer from Starfleet Security."

He approached, his accent recognisable - and attractive - as Terran British as he held out his hand and spoke. "Counselor."

She offered her paw in return. "Commander."

"He's only just arrived," Esek continued. "But given today's events, I want him to get to work right away, so he'll need to get his mandatory Medical and Counseling Checks out of the way first."

She nodded, smiling at Somerset. "He means he wants me to give you the once-over to make sure you're not a secret Bel-Zon spy."

He smiled back charmingly. "I gathered that." He indicated his hand, which she still held. "Have we started already?"

"Of course; I'm reading your pulse, skin conductivity, galvanic neural responses, pheromonal changes-"

"Do you two want to get a room?" Esek quipped.

"Yes: my office, with some tea and crumpets." She released his hand and indicated the exit. "Shall we, Commander?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Please, call me James."

She still smiled; yes, definitely a genuine charmer.

But where did you get that strange Caitian scent on you?

*

Deck 5, Chief Counselor's Office - 1717 Hrs:

It hadn't taken long for her to sate her curiosity, about Somerset and about his Caitian connection, though she wondered why nothing had been said in Ops.

The Starfleet officer offered what was obviously a typically-understated attitude. "The Caitians who assisted me in getting here were sent by First Minister Shall - but strictly off the record, of course. However, Captain Nrari did indicate that more unofficial help might be following. The type that tends not to request authorisation from Starfleet or the Federation Council."

Kami grunted. "Typical: most mothers send soup around when you're in trouble. Mine sends assassins."

"Oh, I'm sure many of them won't be assassins, just mercenaries," Somerset quipped.

She still thought of him as a charmer after speaking and clearing him for Active Duty, before passing him onto the CMO Dr Masterson, and returning to finish off her tea, knowing she could be spoiling her evening meal-

Her door chimed, and she checked her controls identifying the visitor. She set aside the remains of her snack and unlocked the door, sitting back in her chair as Battle Major Kaldron entered, making a show of filling up the doorframe, her manner cool and resolute. "Comrade Counselor, a word with you, please."

"Of course, Battle Major. There's a chair in the corner that Urad uses for our sessions, if you would like-"

"No."

Kami rested her folded paws on her belly. "Then, what can I do for you?"

The Hroch female raised her muzzle. "You can answer Why."

"You'll have to be way more specific about what you want."

Nanda stepped forward, scowling. "Do I seem like the type who appreciates facetiousness?"

"No," Kami confirmed soberly. "You seem like the type who will bellow and threaten easily, but inflict actual violence rarely. You seem like the type who loves her youngest child with an ache that can crack planets, and cannot bear to imagine the suffering he experienced. You seem like the type who will feel a supernova of emotions, including guilt over not being there to take his pain instead, regardless of your people's love for combat and valour and all that military pomp and circumstance." She tilted her head. "Well? How was that?"

Nanda drew back. "Urad's description of your perspicacity in his messages is well-founded. But it does not explain, or justify, your actions in keeping him here. You just want to keep him here."

Kami regarded her visitor, identifying in Nanda many of the body language signals she had picked up and identified from Urad in her interactions with him. "Of course I want to keep him here. Ensign Kaldron is one of the best young Security Officers that has been my honour and pleasure to know. He is a magnificent combination of strength and restraint, of power and gentleness. He has been an amazing role model, not just to his peers, but to many on the station, especially children."

Nanda grunted. "He is barely a child himself."

"But he's grown up since you last saw him, which I'm sure you've seen and heard in his messages home. I was his Counselor after the Battle of Khavak, when he had killed to rescue his friend and colleague from a nasty, horrific fate at the hands of Cardassian invaders. I helped him deal with the guilt and trauma he felt then. And I will help him now... not just because he deserves the help, but because Starfleet desperately needs your Baby Boy, this amazing, selfless, ineffably courageous and valiant warrior, at our side."

Nanda stared back at her. "You sound sincere."

Kami nodded. "There are very few in this Galaxy whom I would trust to protect my cubs in my absence. Urad is one of them." She rose from her seat. "He's still in his class, along with others who are benefitting from it. I think we can visit him and see if he needs a meal break."

Moments later, they entered the Therapy Holosuite, Kami ready for the change of environment from the station corridor to an open art studio of wooden and paper walls, of shelves of pottery, and tables with various hand tools. The air was cool and still, with background noise 'outside'.

In the centre of the room, various people sat on benches at the tables, working on broken pieces of pottery - Urad among them, hunched over his work, using manipulative tools to accommodate his larger hands - while an elderly Asian woman in woolly winter clothes moved about, checking everyone's work and offering quiet advice.

Nanda watched her son, his attention so focused on his work that he failed to notice their appearance. She kept her voice low as she asked, "What is this place?"

"Neo-Tokyo, 38 years after World War III." Kami turned and slid aside a window behind her, displaying a holographic representation of a crowded metropolis, some of it in rubble, some of it under repair. "In the decades following their last global conflict, Earth underwent a period of reconstruction." She felt a chill even through her fur and shut the window, turning back to the interior, and pointing to the elderly woman. "That is a hologram of an artist of the day, Akira Koyama." Then she led Nanda to the shelves. "And these are the works of herself, and her students."

The Hroch female frowned at the many items of ceramic bowls, vases, cups, dishes and other items - all with irregular gold-plated or silver-plated crack patterns in them. "They are all broken."

"They were all broken. Akira's art is called Kintsugi, or Kintsukuroi: the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquered dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver or other precious metals. It had been a practice of the people for over five centuries by this time."

Nanda shook her head. "But... But why bother? Why not just recycle and replicate what was broken?"

"They didn't have replicator technology on Earth at this time. And it wouldn't matter if they had, because it would defeat the philosophy behind Kintsugi." She caught Akira's attention, and watched as the hologram shuffled closer to the newcomers, hands jammed in her coat pockets. "It's cold here. You can conjure me up during the summer months any time you want, Counselor."

Kami smiled. "Apologies, I'll keep that in mind." She noted Nanda. "My friend here wanted to know why you don't just recycle what is broken?"

Akira nodded, looking up at the Hroch and smiling. "Because there is no shame in having flaws, in having cracks or chips or other so-called flaws. There is history, there is pride, and above all, there is beauty; that is why we emphasise the breakages with gold and silver. We believe that we are like these pots and cups and vases: we gain value as we weather the hardships of life.

Every time we chip, break, and even shatter... that is proof of your value. And it is through your trials, your imperfections and your flaws, that you gain your most valuable of virtues. These imperfections are the evidence of your courage, your tenacity, your patience, your love, and your strength. They are badges of honour, proof of the lessons you've learned and the growth you've experienced. And with each struggle, each crack, and repair, we add to our beauty."

"When Earth was recovering from the terrible effects of their war," Kami continued, "Kintsugi had fallen into obscurity. But then, with the reconstruction both physical and psychological, the art, and the philosophy behind it, resurged in popularity. People embraced it." She noted the people at the tables, including Urad, Mru, and others. "Many of my patients engage in this, both as a recreation and as a physical and psychological therapy, to help them see and accept their flaws - even the ones they still keep within - as things to be ashamed of, but embraced." She leaned in and asked, "How's he doing?"

"It was difficult at first to use the compensatory tools for such delicate work," Akira noted, looking at Nanda and smiling. "But your son is a tenacious individual."

"Yes..." the Battle Major agreed, watching him with more than a little awe and pride. "He is."

Kami leaned in closer, whispering, "Do you want to speak with him, see how he's doing?"

She shook her head. "No. I can see for myself how he is doing. And we will remain onboard your station for a few days more... if that is acceptable, Comrade Counselor?"

Kami smiled.

*

Deck 1, Commodore's Family Quarters - 1802 Hrs:

Kami was planning ahead, coming up with a gesture of thanks for the cubs' minder, Gyver Timbrel, for stepping in and minding them after she escorted them back to their quarters before continuing her duties, when she caught the scent of cooking from the corridor.

She entered to find Esek, Sasha and Mru present, having activated the units in the kitchen area to actually cook food, rather than replicate it, while Misha was expanding the dining room table and setting out cutlery. She breathed in the pleasing scent of frying ninshoots, scarybs and shuris strips. "What's going on?"

Esek beamed at her. "Ahh, there she is, the one who keeps us all of sound mind and body! Sit, sit, take a load off your tail!"

She smiled, shucking off her jacket as Misha rushed up to take it from her, before gesturing to the nearest chair at the table. "Come on, Mama, I get you a glass of wine!"

"Or maybe Mru will get it for her instead," Esek suggested, looking towards the younger male. "Would you mind, Lieutenant?"

"Of course, Sir."

"Please, let's keep it cosy here; you can call me 'Commodore'."

Sasha smacked her father on the arm. "Watch it, Dad, or I'll start telling all the dirty stories Weynik has been feeding me about your days at the Academy with him!"

Kami took the seat, thanking Mru for the delivered wine, before reaching out to rub under the muzzle of Sreen, who sat in her high chair beside her, wearing a gold paper crown and working at her teething ring. "You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble."