Surefoot 02: Imbarrazzo

"What?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Where have you been hiding all this time? You're understanding and supportive to the cadets, magnanimous and charming to your First Officer, you're flirting with me-"

"What? No I'm not!"

"If you're not, then I'd hate to see what you'd be like if you were making an effort!" But then her expression changed as she asked, "Why, though? Were you like this on your last ship?"

Now his expression changed, as well, sobering. "No."

Now her tail stopped swishing. "What's wrong?"

He looked away, thinking he needed some decorations in here, something to break the monotonous feel, make it seem like he was really living here. "While I was recuperating, I wanted to send personal messages to the next of kin of the crew of the Furyk. I wanted to tell them how sorry I was, and how I proud I was to serve with their loved ones, maybe even offer some personal anecdotes. I know it had been over six years since then, but I thought they deserved it."

"So what happened?"

He looked to her again. "I had... nothing to say. I could remember the senior staff, things about them, little habits and memorable traits. But the rest? I saw these names on a list, and that's all they were. They died under my command, and that's all they ended up meaning to me: names on a list."

"Well, like you said, it had been so many years ago, and you'd been through so much in that time. You can't be expected to remember every little thing about, what, over a hundred and thirty crew?"

"That's no excuse."

"Actually, it's a pretty good one. Have you heard about the new Galaxy-class starships they're bringing out in a few years? There'll be over a thousand people on those. Would you want to have to worry about remembering all those people?"

"No. Because I wouldn't accept command of one of those monstrosities. I'd rather keep it small, so at least I know my crew, and they know me." He paused, then asked, "Is that wrong?"

She sighed. "The only thing that's wrong here is that I'm your Counselor and you're my patient and I can't take you next door to your quarters and let the fur fly."

Hrelle rolled his eyes, growling, "Get out."

She rose, smiling. "Ooh, Papa Bear's getting angry. I hope he doesn't spank me."

He pointed to the door. "Now."

As she departed, she gave him a final look and, "Actually, that's not true, I hope he does..."

He stood there, alone, collecting his resolve; her scent lingered, strong and heady. If he didn't know better, he'd swear she was in Season, and not taken any suppressants. But then he suspected if that were the case, his own physical reactions would be... embarrassingly obvious.

He needed to lose himself in work. "Computer: detail outstanding tasks."

The female computer voice spoke up. "Quartermaster reports for the next period require reading and authorisation. There is a Performance Review Report due for Chief Petty Officer Grev. There is an outstanding subspace message from Captain Lucille Arrington of the USS Impala. There is-"

"Stop." His heart raced, and not in the way that it had when Kami was in the room. She wasn't letting up. But then he figured she wouldn't. He should just play it and-

No. He couldn't hear her voice again. "Computer: translate the message from the Impala into text on my monitor."

He sat down behind his desk and read. Yes, it was pretty much as he expected.

He leaned back, fighting the knots appearing in his stomach. "Computer: send a reply to Captain Lucille Arrington, USS Impala. The message reads: 'Request Denied'."

*

Deck 4, Main Engineering, 1300 Hours:

Chief Petty Officer Grev looked up from the status panel he was hunched over at the approach of the newcomer. "Ah, you're the ugly one I've heard about."

Sasha stood before the Tellarite. "No, the ugly one is the one you see in the mirror every day."

Grev grunted with satisfaction. "And what can I do for you, Squad Leader Hrelle?"

She glanced around. "Well, it's lunchtime for the rest of Alpha Squad, but Jonas hadn't shown up in the mess hall, so I came looking for him."

"He's not here, he's down in the Secondary Hull."

"Oh? Is everything okay?"

Grev nodded. "Quite! I've been setting up deliberate faults in systems throughout the ship for the Engineering cadets to find, diagnose and repair. Young Jonas volunteered to go down there himself. He didn't even want the turboshaft extended down to it, he was happy to crawl through the connecting pylons." He grunted again, patting his belly. "I wouldn't do it, not with this waist."

"Oh." Now she was getting a little worried. Since the incident in their quarters that morning, Jonas had kept himself away from the other Squad members, and her attempts to contact him by combadge were met with curt responses about his being too busy to talk. "Well, I hope you don't starve him."

"There are replicators down there. And don't worry, I'll make sure he eats, he's too good to lose."

"Thanks." Sasha departed, brow furrowed. She had really messed up this morning, not responding the way she should have, and she knew it.

She returned to the table in the mess hall where Neraxis, Giles, Eydiir and Kitirik sat, already halfway through their lunches or more. Neraxis looked up. "Well? Where is he?"

Sasha sat down, staring blankly at the chicken salad sandwich she never started; she didn't feel like eating anyway. "He's hiding in the Secondary Hull."

"And he's still not answering your hails?"

She shook her head. "Don't blame him, I suppose. He must hate my guts for not doing something."

Opposite her, Giles was swallowing ample mouthfuls of pepperoni pizza, making noises of satisfaction before washing it down and saying, "So, Lt. Velkovsky was telling me about her flyer in the Delos Run: a custom-designed Waverider with a 500-millicochrane engine-"

"Giles," Sasha cut in, staring at him in disbelief. "We're talking about Jonas here!"

"What's there to talk about? Our Engineer had some Morning Glory. We should just be thankful for the integrity of his boxers that we didn't get a glimpse of Little Jonas."

"You're a class act, you know that?" Neraxis grunted.

He looked to Kitirik. "Hey, Kit, you're male too, you know what I mean."

"No, Friend Giles, I do not. Sexual reproduction for the Qarari is merely a function, it is not pleasure-driven. None of our male genders react as yours does."

"'None of'? Wait, how many male genders do you have?"

"Five. Each gender manages a different aspect of our society: military, government, manufacturing-"

"Five?" Giles exclaimed. "How the hell do you function?"

"We're discussing Jonas here, guys," Sasha reminded them, sighing. "I'm at fault. I should have said something right away, but I was just-" She looked across, seeing someone at an other table, pushed aside her own lunch and rose. "I'm gonna go get some advice. Catch you later."

The table grew silent and still for a moment.

Then Giles reached for one half of Sasha's sandwich. "Be a shame to let this get thrown back in the recycler."

Neraxis glowered at him. And reached for the other half of the sandwich.

*

Kami pointed her fork at T'Varik's lunch. "Your grapefruit's gone bad."

The Vulcan carefully pushed aside the fork with her finger, to prevent bits of the fried beef clinging to it from falling onto her food. "As I have already stated, it is not grapefruit, it is gespar, a Vulcan delicacy. It looks exactly as it's supposed to look."

"Ahh. Thank you for clearing that up." The Caitian took another mouthful of her own lunch before noting, "Feta cheese or ricotta would go well with that grapefruit."

"Tell me, Counselor, what is your secondary course of action for when your humour fails?"

Kami considered her answer. "I flash my boobs."

"If I lie and inform you that you are hilarious, will you spare me that?"

"Excuse me."

Both women looked up to see Sasha, T'Varik replying first with, "Can we assist you, Crewman Hrelle?"

"Um, I don't know. May I sit down?"

Kami waved to the seat next to her, still wolfing down her meal. "What's up?"

Sasha was flushing as she slid into the seat, wishing she'd stopped for a drink, just to have something to keep her hands busy. "Um, something happened this morning in our quarters, involving Jonas. We, ah, we'd just got back from the gym, we stripped down and were lined up to use the showers... Jonas had hurt his shoulder, and Eydiir was massaging it- it seemed to be helping him-"

"Oh boy..." Kami's eyes widened.

T'Varik looked to her. "Your reaction suggests an awareness of the problem at hand."

"Well, let's let our Squad Leader finish her story." Kami smiled teasingly at Sasha. "Go on..."

Sasha cleared her throat, certain she was turning so red she could be mistaken for an Alert signal. "And... his shorts got tighter on him. And everyone saw."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "As I understand human adolescent males, this reaction is typical for any number of reasons. What happened then?"

"And... then Kit said something, because he didn't know what was going on, because the males of his species don't... operate like that, apparently. It broke the tension and we couldn't help but laugh. But Jonas took it badly and left. And we haven't seen him all day, he won't answer my hails."

The Counselor nodded, still smiling. "That would explain why I saw Kit studying instructional texts on humanoid male reproductive systems. It seemed a bit too dry for pornography."

Sasha wrung her hands. "I didn't handle it well."

"Your self-assessment is correct, Crewman," T'Varik agreed, continuing to consume her meal. "You allowed the situation to escalate needlessly."

"It wasn't exactly covered in the Command courses I took."

"Nevertheless," the Vulcan continued, "Your leadership skills require the ability to react positively to the unexpected; there are a number of texts I can suggest-"

"Thank you, Commander, but in the meantime, what about Jonas? He must be mad as hell at me-"

"Very likely," T'Varik agreed. "As he counted on you to manage the situation, but failed."

Kami looked to her. "I don't think our Squad Leader here came to us to add to her self-recrimination." To Sasha she announced, "Your Squad's shift ends at 1600 hours. Have them report to my office at that time, I'll move your first group session up from the end of the week to today."

Sasha looked relieved, rising to her feet. "Thank you, Counselor."

As she departed, T'Varik set aside the remains of her meal. "Your tone suggested rebuke. I cannot be blamed for Mr Ostrow's response to his own body. Human adolescents frequently overreact over minor incidents; infatuations become classic love affairs, dissolutions become dramas, parental lectures become inquisitions."

Kami sighed, playing with her own food. "I went through my first Season when I was twelve, years before I should have. And it started at the most inopportune time as well: my great-grandmother's funeral. She was an important poet on my homeworld, and the funeral was attended by hundreds of people paying their respects, and I was in the middle of this throng when I could feel the heat from my nethers, and the release of very potent pheromones that were having an effect on everyone around me.

By the time I realised what was happening, I was too embarrassed to excuse myself or tell my mother, who might have given me a suppressant. But my scent was... distracting everyone around me, and I could hear all their whispers and see their looks to each other, wondering who it was.

Finally, my mother grasped that it was me, and nearly pulled my arm out of the socket as she dragged me out of the funeral, with seemingly everyone present laughing. I wasn't laughing at the time; I would have gladly died on that day from mortification; now, thirty years later, I can laugh."

She looked to T'Varik. "Cubs, even ones as old as our cadets, do not come to us pre-programmed like tricorders, with everything they need to function in life. They overreact because they need experience to provide them with perspective. And until they gain that perspective, they need to get it from us." She rose, lifting up her tray. "You done with that grapefruit?"

T'Varik nodded, allowing the Caitian to take the tray and leave without further discussion.

*

Secondary Hull, Maintenance Bay:

Jonas sat alone, wanting to enjoy the final few hours onboard a real starship, before his inevitable dismissal. It was going to happen, he was certain of it. Sasha would be reporting him for sexual misconduct, something for which Starfleet had zero tolerance. There would be a hearing, condemnations, his mother would be informed-

No.

No, he would resign before that. It was a tiny, tenuous grasp of dignity and control, but it was one he still possessed. Then he could return to his mother and the salvage business, make up a story about flunking out of the classes. He wouldn't tell her the truth about her perverted son-

"Mr Ostrow?"

He jumped, nearly falling out of his chair, before rising to his feet. "Commander T'Varik! I wasn't expecting you!"

"Obviously." She stepped into the bay, glancing around at the shelves and containers of parts and tools, hands behind her back as if she was conducting an inspection.

"Um... what are you doing down here, Ma'am?"

"I am of course familiar with the schematics of an Oberth-class starship, but I have been reliably informed by Captain Hrelle that this is not the same as 'walking the decks, smelling the air and touching everything'." Her tone suggested what she thought about that notion. Then she looked to him. "Why are you hiding out down here, Mr Ostrow?"

"Hiding? No, Commander, Chief Grev ordered us to locate and identify-"

"-Malfunctioning components, yes, I am aware of that. I am also aware that you have been down here for 6.423 hours, far longer than it would require for someone with your superior ability to find, diagnose and replace the faulty power conduit that the Chief set down here." She stopped at his table, indicating a unit sitting there. "This conduit, in fact. The Chief noted its replacement on his diagnostic board, but was happy to let you waste time down here." Now she looked at him. "I am not. You should have reported back directly after completing the task."

His face reddened. "Yes, Ma'am."

"I also understand that you have ignored repeated communications from your Squad Leader. That is not acceptable. I should not have to explain why."

"No, Ma'am."

"You have been scheduled to attend a meeting at-"

"Ma'am," he interrupted. "Excuse me, but-" He swallowed; never in his life had he expected to be saying what he was about to say. "But I wish to tender my resignation from Starfleet, effective immediately."

T'Varik stared at him. Then she responded with, "Denied."

He blinked. "Ma'am- you don't know- something happened- it'd be better if I resigned before they kick me out-"

"Whether or not I know the reasons behind your impulsive and illogical action just now is irrelevant. Starfleet has invested too much in your development to allow you to abrogate your career path." Now she approached him, making a visible attempt to relax her posture and tone. "Jonas... no one is going to 'kick you out'. I will not allow that. Your presence here is valued by everyone. Myself especially.

Alpha Squad is meeting with the Counselor in her office at 1600 hours in order to resolve... whatever has occurred. I expect you to participate fully towards that resolution; you owe that much, to your friends, to yourself... and to me. Is that understood?"

He shook a little, but nodded.

"You will also make up for the time you have wasted down here. Schedule extra work sessions in your off-duty hours with the Chief."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Now, follow me back to the primary hull. Bring the figurative fruits of your labours with you."

"Yes, Ma'am." As he lifted up the faulty unit and followed, he asked, "Commander, I thought you came down here to do a walking tour of the rest of the ship?"

"Never mind, Mr Ostrow."

*

Deck 1, Bridge, 1430 Hours:

"So, we're all sitting around the dinner table," Hrelle was recounting from his chair, while most of the crew and Kami listened with amusement - except for Sasha, sitting at Ops and shaking her head. "And Sasha's mother is desperate to try to break the ice between her daughter and myself. But this little six-year-old terror was having none of it, glowering at this horrible alien intruder in their lives.

And Sasha's mother's saying to her, 'You've never met a Caitian before, sweetie, I'm sure you have plenty of questions to ask him.' And I'm all, 'Of course, ask me anything.' So Sasha's staring at me, and you can see the wheels turning in her head as she thinks of the best way to scare me off. Finally she asks, 'Are you furry all over?'"

"Captain..." the teenage Sasha prompted now. "There really is no need to finish this story."

But Hrelle ignored her. "And I answered, 'Why, yes.' And then she asks, quite loudly and clearly, 'EVEN YOUR PENIS?'"

The bridge crew erupted into laughter, Hrelle indulging them before continuing. "And her mother gets all shocked, and orders her to apologise, which she does - well, the bare minimum anyway. But when her mother goes into the kitchen, Sasha leans forward in her chair opposite me, takes one look at the kitchen door to make sure it was closed, and informs me in a whisper, 'I'm not really sorry, you know.'"

As everyone laughed again. Hrelle finished off with, "Fortunately, she warmed up to me after a few more weeks like that. Any more stories I can tell them, Sash?"

She turned in her seat and held up a hand. "No thank you, Sir." Then she returned to duty at an alert appearing on her Ops board. "Sir, there's an incoming message from Captain Arrington on the USS Impala. I'll play it-"

"Belay that!" he snapped, making people jump. He ignored the looks around him as he rose to his feet and headed towards the door. "Patch it through to my office. Counselor, you have command until I return."

"Are you sure that's wise, Captain?" she called after him. "I might take us all to Risa or give everyone the day off or something."

He ignored her as he departed. In his office, he forced himself to calm down and sit as he called up the message, allowing it to play in her voice. It wouldn't be as bad as he thought, he told himself.

Seconds later, he was on his feet, flinging his chair across the office to strike the far wall.

Just as the door opened and Kami stepped in. "Good for you, I always thought that chair was a nasty little bastard."

"And I thought I left you in command!"

"You'd have been better off leaving a pair of socks in charge. We both know you only did it to keep me from coming in here."

"Well, clearly that's worked out well." He paced back and forth behind his desk.

She retrieved the chair, checked it for damage, and returned it to its place. "Sit."

"I don't feel like sitting."

"And I don't feel like arguing with a short-tempered cub who should know better. Now, sit."

With a display of reluctance, Hrelle complied, as she drew up behind him and put her hands on his neck and shoulders, kneading them. She grunted. "Seven Hells, I'd have more success massaging a Horta; relax, or I'll get a sedative from Dr Ling. Now, you want to tell me about the message?"

He grunted as well; despite himself, he was responding positively to her touch, as it loosened the knots in his muscles. "Captain Lucille Arrington has contacted me three times in the last 24 hours."

"Not love letters, I take it?"

"No. She wants to have a private word with Giles."

She waited for more, and when none was forthcoming, she replied with, "I hate to play Devil's Advocate, but what's the problem with a request like that?"