Surefoot 88: Arcana

"Anomalies in some of Misha's neural clusters. It could be a side effect of the harmonic telepathic treatments he's received from Dr Hwii''!!''II'!'iei in the times they had been together; Delphine Counseling can have unusual effects, especially on the young, and it may have made him far more resilient."

Hrelle nodded at that, remembering Dr Hwii''!!''II'!'iei, aka Doctor Wheelie, and how the dolphin had helped all of them in the past. "And if it isn't?"

Now she looked at him. "He could be developing his own Beast, his own coping subpersonality; it runs in the family, after all. You certainly have it, and I know I've seen it rise in myself. I might get in touch with Jhess back on the Motherworld and ask for his expertise."

Hrelle felt his stomach twist. His Beast had been a part of him for years, during his captivity on Orion under Surinh Dag, and it resurfaced later on, more than once: a savage, atavistic shadow of himself. Even after surgery had killed off the old version of it, severe trauma experienced during the Occupation of Cait had generated a new incarnation.

To think that his gentle, loving son might end up following in his father's footsteps... "This life we lead... this dangerous life I've dragged him, Sreen, you, into... a life that could help conjure up the same type of monster I carry inside me-"

"Esek, I'm too tired to remind you, yet again, that it's not down only to you that we're here, that we both chose to live this dangerous life, and that the threats which could carve and shape such Beasts into existence could be found anywhere, such as when the Ferasans invaded Cait, and that if I had any notion that my cubs shouldn't be here, you would have heard from me before now."

Hrelle breathed in, then out, before responding. "Well, then, I'm glad you're too tired to remind me." He reached out and clasped her paw. "What about you? After what happened to you, how are you feeling?"

Then it was Kami's turn to pause before replying. "I barely remember it, but I know that I will have to, in order to help myself move on. And I do feel sorry for Ange."

Hrelle bristled. "Boladede? You feel sorry for him, after what he did?"

She sighed. "I'm not excusing his actions, but he was manipulated, the way others were... like Sasha."

Mention of his daughter, and the memory of his earlier argument, made Hrelle sigh. "You think she'll be okay?"

"Yes. Oh, I don't imagine you'll be doting over any newborn cubs in the very near future, but maybe you'll be walking her down the aisle, sobbing your eyes out."

"I wouldn't-" Then he stopped himself. "Maybe I would."

His combadge chirped, as Sternhagen reported, "The al-Razi has arrived, Captain. And that communications channel to Cait you requested will commence in ten minutes."

"I'm on my way. Hrelle out." He growled. "I know Zorin staged this, just to come here. Why? What's the purpose of it? He's sent operatives against us, why risk a direct encounter? It feels like he just wants to size me up, look me in the eye, some macho bullshit like that. What do you think?"

"I think you have something there. Because you've defied him. Because his ego has been bruised, and we wants to regain some pride by facing you directly, with an audience, maybe goading you, knowing you know he's responsible but you can't do anything about it. It's not enough to kill you outright; he could have done that at any stage. He wants you to suffer, psychologically as well as physically."

"And how do I counter that?"

She looked at him. "Well, normally I would discourage male bravado and braggadocio, but in this case, I expect you to remember that you are the Lion of Salem Sector, and that this is your territory. Try not to kill him, no matter how he provokes you."

He rose to his feet. "That'll be fun. You can handle that call with your mother?"

"Of course. Better for her if she hears it directly from me anyway, and sees I'm not that bad, especially if I have the cubs with me." She smirked. "I think you'd rather face Zorin than have to explain to Mama what happened to me."

Hrelle bent down and rubbed the side of his muzzle against hers. "I'd never admit to that... in case she's listening."

*

Bel-Zon Headquarters, Planet Elba II:

"Monsieur?"

Bastien Dumont sat alone at the table in his quarters, still relishing the scent of the beautiful, freshly-grilled fillet mignon and sauteed truffles and other vegetables before him, but now was taking in the exquisite rich colour of the wine, a recently-acquired vintage from Betazed. It was an extravagant indulgence, one he shared with no one else, but he justified it to himself as partial recompense for the years of imprisonment, abuse and hardship by the So'Na, thanks to the efforts of Starfleet in general, and Commodore Esek Hrelle - then Captain - in particular.

He had worked hard all his life to enjoy the finer things, and it had all been cruelly ripped from him... and all because Hrelle couldn't remain professional, and took the actions of the previous incarnation of the Bel-Zon against him personally.

Now, he allowed himself these indulgences, and was typically unforgiving of interruptions. Now, however, he guessed the reason behind it. "Yes, Relee?"

The voice of his personal assistant Relee Baulahl responded with her usual crisp Trill efficiency. "Sorry to interrupt, Monsieur, but you wanted to be notified when Monsieur Zorin and his party were 'rescued' by Starfleet. They're about to arrive at Salem One."

"Merci." He had to admit, to himself if no one else, that Zorin's decision to confront Hrelle now had come out of the proverbial blue... but no amount of warning on Dumont's part about how it might interfere with the overall plans of the organisation in this sector could persuade that psychopathique Zorin. Still, his presence might distract Hrelle enough to allow the operatives already present to complete their work without incident.

Then Dumont sensed the hesitation on the other end of the comlink. "What else, Relee?"

"I'm sorry, Monsieur Dumont, but the Assassin is refusing to leave for her new assignment."

The man sighed, setting down his glass, staring longingly at his meal. "Where is Mademoiselle Obscura?"

"Outside your office, alongside the Ferasan."

Moments later, he was there, regarding the two females: the ebon-furred Ferasan tracker known as Jet Jaguar, her Ferasan tusks surgically removed to make her appear more like one of her racial cousins the Caitians, and the most reluctant member of the Bel-Zon: Kamra Obscura, a Tandaran nomad with a phenomenal weapons aptitude, psychic abilities that aided her work... and a personal code d'honneur that could be damned inconvenient at times. Like now. "Mademoiselle? How may I help you?"

The young, coffee-skinned humanoid female in her native robes stood, arms crossed. "You may release me from my contract. I am done with you."

Dumont regarded her coolly. It had initially seemed like acquiring her services would be of great advantage - but then it felt the same way for the thief Fantomax, and the collective called the Rat Pack, both of which had since escaped, their current whereabouts unknown. "I am sorry to hear that, young woman. But we are not yet done with you. We have one more task requiring your singular skills."

"Indeed? Another attack on an innocent Paserak tribe? I will not do that again."

Dumont's jaw tightened, but he forced himself to smile politely. "That... was an unfortunate choice of tasks for one such as you, who sees herself as a Nemesis, a Spirit of Vengeance. Perhaps if I told you more about the intended target? One which may prove to be the most important target you have ever faced?" He glanced at Jet Jaguar. "Both of you, in fact, would benefit from this knowledge." He motioned to his office door.

Kamra hesitated, but then relented, Jet following, Dumont moving behind his desk and activating his wallscreen, projecting the image of an older, black-furred felinoid female in a military uniform. "This is Ma'Sala Shall, from when she was Fleet Captain of the Caitian Planetary Navy. Since then, she has used her power and influence, and the chaos following the end of the Ferasan Occupation of their world, to seize power and become First Minister of her planet. She is also Matriarch to Commodore Hrelle and his family on Salem One. She keeps a watchful eye on her distant family, and has been employing her considerable resources to interfere with our plans for him."

The woman glanced at him, her psychic abilities no doubt allowing her to question the veracity of his words, perhaps confirming that he was being a little... creative with his interpretation of the facts. But she responded with, "If I dispatched every politician in the Galaxy who used their influence for personal gain, that Vulcan mad scientist now in your employ would have to equip me with immortality."

"True," Dumont conceded, "But few politicians have achieved the level of infamy that Shall has." He called up other images, of what appeared to be a subspace instability, like an open wound in the Universe, bleeding energy from hidden folds into other dimensions. "This was the Ferasa Prime system, the original home of the Caitians. They fled their planet over a millennia ago to avoid the Augmented factions that had taken over, but the Ferasans pursued them several times, with the latest attempt successful, at least temporarily."

He saw Jet react, her muzzle bristling and her tail twitching. "I... I read the news, about the supernova of our sun ripping into subspace, destroying the system. I... I hadn't seen the images-"

"The news media declared it a natural disaster," Dumont informed them. "But it wasn't. In response to the Occupation, First Minister Shall had launched an Omega Bomb, a weapon of mass destruction prohibited by all galactic powers. She committed genocide, the genocide of almost two billion Ferasans. Male and female. Old and young. Military and civilian. Infants. All snuffed out. And the damage to the local space means any survivors from outside the system cannot even return home."

He watched them both react, Jet naturally on a more personal level than Kamra, who appeared focused on scanning him again, for signs of deceit. He left his mind open, inviting scrutiny, even as Kamra asked, "Two... billion lives? How is that even possible? What weapon could be so powerful? And how could she get away with that?"

He sighed. "The secrets of the Omega Bombs are so classified, even our own attempts to uncover them have proved fruitless, and all we could discover was her act... and the results of it, as you can see. And Starfleet and the Federation declared the destruction of the system to be a natural disaster, part of a conspiracy to keep Omega a secret from the Galaxy at large, both to minimise confirmation that such a weapon can be made and employed, and to assuage their own guilt at not coming to the aid of the Caitians sooner."

"Two billion..." Jet repeated in a shocked whisper. "I had.. I had accepted a disaster wiping out my people... they were dying anyway, from genetic decrepitude, so I had allowed myself to be almost comforted by it... but now, now you say they were murdered..."

He indicated the image on the screen. "I am aware of the atrocities committed by the Ferasans when they occupied Cait... but still, what could possibly justify the extermination of an entire race of people?"

Kamra faced him fully again, and he could almost feel her mind in his. He stayed calm. That was the beauty of this deception; it was truthful enough for his purposes. In reality, Dumont agreed that Shall had no choice in the matter, given their depleted resources, Starfleet's continued focus on the threat of the Dominion, and the Ferasans grouping to send a second fleet that would let them retake Cait.

But the young assassin, the one he needed to get to Cait with Jet's aid, didn't need to know that.

Kamra drew back finally. "You're telling the truth."

"Yes. I acknowledge that candour is a rare indulgence in my line of work, but if you require, I can provide you with the technical and intelligence data we have gathered. But the fact remains: Ma'Sala Shall is perhaps the greatest living mass murderer in galactic history. And because of political expediency and Intelligence protocols, she will get away with her crimes. I am perhaps not the most ethically-minded of individuals, but even I recognise naked injustice when I see it." He lowered his arm. "I give you my word, Mademoiselle, this will be the last assignment you will have to perform for the Bel-Zon. Well?"

The Tandaran looked back and forth between him, and the viewscreen, turning to Jet. "I am sorry for your loss."

The felinoid bristled again, but quickly composed herself. "A small loss. In truth, I had left behind my people and their patriarchal oppression years ago, and never thought about going back to them, even before their demise. That they died at this Caitian's paws is not surprising... but still, to allow such an act to go unchallenged, for any reason..."

Kamra looked back at Dumont, before finally deciding, "This will be the last."

He smiled gratefully. "Most generous. Now, if you would please proceed to the spaceport? Your transport awaits."

She nodded curtly and departed with Jet.

He stared at the closed door.

Yes, you sanctimonious cow, once you deal with Shall, this will definitely be your last task.

*

Capitol Building, First City, Planet Cait:

First Minister Ma'Sala Shall used to think she had a game face: when she was in the Planetary Navy, rising to the supreme rank of Fleet Captain, defending the Motherworld against outside threats, inspiring (or threatening) subordinates into achieving the impossible, ensuring that the latest tail-chasing politician to try and reduce the military budget gets their asses handed to them.

Then she entered politics, and realised how much of an amateur she had been. And the popular high she had ridden in on following the victory against the Ferasan Occupation didn't last forever, leaving her facing scores of problems that couldn't be defeated with a missile volley, or at least a few tactically-launched expletives.

But she was learning as she went along: learned to negotiate, learned to compromise, learned to choose her battles. And learned to put on a real game face.

Even to her daughter, with the image of her reaching out across hundreds of light years, lying in that hospital bed in Salem One, ensuring Ma'Sala that yes, she would be fine, that yes, Esek was managing the crisis, that no, the cubs were not in danger, and no, there was nothing Ma'Sala needed to do about it.

And Ma'Sala had offered the required nods and entreaties and reassurances to her daughter, thanked her for the call and the consideration in letting her know, and wished her a speedy return to visit the family soon.

She waited until the communication ended before letting her true feelings surface, making Shall's Chief of Security Hass Sgrier, standing outside her office, immediately draw his plasma pistol and burst in, ready to defend the First Minister.

And then stand down and found Shall's desk overturned, but the female herself alone, safe... but with a scent that definitely warned against anyone getting closer to her. "Summon the Security Cabal."

Twenty minutes later, Shall's scent only increased with the response she received from her subordinates - chiefly, Commissioner Nenjo Canri, Head of the Caitian Security Services. "I'm sorry, First Minister, but I must refuse your request."

Shall bristled. "No, I'm sorry, Commissioner... for letting you misinterpret this as a request. It wasn't. I'm ordering you to-"

Canri raised a paw to cut her off, reacting to Shall's scent and tone, but standing her proverbial ground. "Don't, First Minister... Ma'Sala... I respect and honour you, but don't try going there. I have nothing but the highest admiration for your daughter, for Commodore Hrelle, his human cub; their efforts to save the Motherworld from the Ferasans will always be remembered and honoured.

But they remain members of Starfleet, living off-world, outside of our jurisdiction and capable of protecting themselves. And our responsibility to our people remains paramount. I cannot authorise the use of our now-limited resources to act as your family's bodyguards... or avengers."

Ma'Sala bared her teeth. "My daughter was shot in the chest! My grandcubs could have been killed! They still could be, from what I've learned!"

Canri nodded. "Yes, from Captain Nrari of the Crooked Tail." She glanced over at Fleet Captain Csara Nrorr of the Caitian Stellar Navy, who kept a stony expression. "I understand he was recently assigned to perform certain unauthorised activities deep within Federation space on your behalf, in direct violation of Federation and Starfleet law."

Ma'Sala glanced at Nrorr, who indicated Canri. "For what it's worth, Ma'Sala, I never said anything to her; she's the Spymaster around here."

"Yes, I am," Canri agreed, without irony. "And you appointed both of us to take on your former responsibilities, because we have laws against one person wielding too much power for their own ends, however noble. We are relying on Federation aid to help us recover from the Occupation, and rebuild our off-world markets, our colonies; your actions threaten that."

"Ma'Sala", Fleet Captain Nrorr added sympathetically, "In another time, when you were my Commanding Officer, I would have eagerly led the charge into battle against anyone threatening your family... especially the Hrelles, given their immeasurable service towards the Motherworld.

But this is not another time. We have different, greater responsibilities, and Starfleet has resources of their own to deal with potential threats. On their return, I will be reassigning the Crooked Tail to authorised duties... and I will have to refuse any further personal requests. I'm sorry."

Ma'Sala looked to each of them in turn... understanding their points of view, even if she was suffused with a desire to roar them down again, for all the futility behind that. No matter how much you saw yourself as the Matriarch of your Clan, the moment you took the Oath of Office, you knew that this would have to take a back seat to your greater responsibilities... "Thank you both. And I would appreciate it if this stayed between the three of us, and not reach the ears of Minister K'Trierr."

Canri snorted. "Fuck, no! The last thing we want is for that kussik to have any ammunition to claw for the First Minister post!"

"No," Nrorr agreed, nodding, "I'd sooner have a sand newt take over."

Grateful for their honesty and support if not their compliance, Ma'Sala was on her way back to her office, wondering how she was going to explain what had happened to Kami to her husbands, when her private comm chirped. She stopped, frowning to herself - had Mi'Tree or Bneea heard something already? - and answered, "Yes?"

It was neither of her husbands. "First Minister, this is Tarim Bey."

She tensed. "How did you get on this private channel?"

"I'll be happy to explain, if you come down to the sublevel. And tell no one that you're coming."

She glanced around; Tarim Bey was, in theory, the former leader of the Sypher cybercriminals, the Sypher King himself, responsible for various thefts and smuggling operations for years, but joined the Resistance to the Ferasan Occupation in the fight to free the Motherworld. He had since turned legitimate, working to assist in the rebuilding of the Caitian Intelligence Services behind the Mother's Claws, becoming the Government's Minister for Cybernetics... but she had no doubt he retained mercenary motivations. "I'm on my way."