Surefoot 02: Imbarrazzo

"The problem is it's never been made as a request. It's always been a demand, peppered with insults. In the twenty-five years I've known her, she's never been anything but utterly contemptuous to me. Her grandfather was the Academy Superintendent when I was a cadet, he was an old bastard who hated me, and encouraged her to lead her brothers, siblings and cousins, upperclassmen all, to harass and bully me.

Most times, I never even saw them, just felt the effects of their handiwork: sabotaged schedules, ruined uniforms and missing possessions from my quarters, reworked reports to give me failing grades, changed locks. I tried to fight back, and ended up getting put on report, with all their accounts outweighing mine. Then it grew worse..."

*

Starfleet Academy Grounds, Twenty Five Years Ago:

"On the ground, Pretty Kitty!" Cadet Lucille Arrington screamed at him.

Cadet Esek Hrelle didn't move; it took all of his willpower not to pop out his claws and rake her throat open. And though he knew that brief moment of satisfaction would not be worth the court martial, stockade and dismissal from Starfleet, it was still so tempting.

Around him, the rest of the Arringtons were jeering and cursing him, calling him Plebe and Pussycat and more filthy insults; occasionally some of them would reach out and try to grab his tail, forcing him to keep it as close to his body as possible. He focused on their leader -- and the PADD in her hand, the PADD containing the only copy of his warp dynamics report, due tomorrow. If Lucille kept it or destroyed it, he'd fail.

She held it up higher again, as if he might have forgotten it was there, glee broadening the grin on her narrow, tanned features. "Come on, Pretty Kitty, get down on all fours. That's where cats belong." She looked around; the Academy grounds where they had cornered Hrelle was dark, deserted, and quiet, apart from the frogs croaking incessantly from the nearby pond. "Or should we just throw away all this hard work you put into it?"

"No!" he snapped, swallowing down the bile in his throat along with his pride. To the jeers of Lucille's mob he lowered himself to his hands and knees, his pony-tailed mane dropping to the left side of his face. He stared at the grass, his fingers sinking into the cool wet earth.

"Now," Lucille continued. "Let's hear the Magic Word."

Hrelle understood the reference, an old Terran expression. "Please."

But the girl made a humourless laugh. "No, no, no, Pretty Kitty. That's for humans. Real People. Your Magic Word... is 'Meow'."

No.

"Come on, Pretty Kitty. Meow for us."

NO. To the Seven Hells with all of you.

"Last chance, Pretty Kitty."

He couldn't do it. He couldn't. Better to resign and walk away. Better still to leave them bleeding and screaming for their mothers.

"Have it your way, Plebe-" She drew back her arm.

He meowed.

Everyone had shut up in time to hear it, loud and clear.

They had a good laugh at that.

Hrelle's claws sunk into the grass, as if readying to dig himself a grave.

"Now, that's more like it, Pretty Kitty," Lucille declared. "Who says cats can't be trained?"

From the corner of his eye, Hrelle could see her boots, all shiny and immaculate. Now, his PADD was dropped to the grass beside them.

He reached out for it - but not before Lucille moved one of her boots over it. "Not so fast. One more Meow. A good, long one, like you're in heat."

Hrelle swallowed, feeling his pride sent to the far side of the system, as he gave them what they wanted...

*

Kami had stopped massaging, and now moved around to face him, her expression one of stunned disbelief. "How... How did you keep from killing them?"

He couldn't look back at her; he still couldn't fathom how he could still feel so mortified after a quarter-century. "I was alone, the only Caitian there in my class. I was disowned by my clan for coming there and taking over the business back home. I needed to stay because I had nowhere else to go." Now he looked up. "And I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of succeeding in driving me away."

Now it seemed to be Kami's turn to do the pacing, with barely-contained outrage, her tail swishing furiously. "Who does that? Who does that to another sentient being?" Then she calmed down again. "But she can't still be like that? Can she?"

He cleared his throat. "Computer: replay the last message received from the USS Impala."

The computer obeyed, and a female voice filled the room like a spectre. An angry, spiteful spectre. "Hrelle! Who the hell do you think you are, refusing an order from me? I was defending the Federation when you were betraying it to the Bel-Zon, you tailless, gutless coward! Get my nephew on a secure channel ASAP, Pretty Kitty, or I'll have you mewling on the ground again!"

The office went silent again.

Kami was staring in the direction of the speakers. Now she looked to him again. "I want to meet this bitch."

"You think that's wise?"

"I don't care if it's wise or not, I want to rip the arrogant smug ape's throat out!" She stabbed a clawed finger at him. "Don't you dare give her anything!"

"Is that my Counselor advising me, or my friend?"

Now she stopped, staring hard at him with a certain measure of chagrin. "I don't know why you ask me in here for advice."

He chuckled. "I never ask you in here, you just keep barging in!" Now he sobered and returned to sit behind his desk. "It's so bizarre. After all the far more terrible experiences I had with the Bel-Zon, this Academy humiliation should be nothing. Yet, I hear her voice today, and I lose my temper."

Kami drew closer, leaning against his desk, her tail calmer. "You've had time to face and deal with more recent events. But I bet you suppressed what she did to you, put it in the back of your mind and never had to consider it until now. It's a nerve you never realised was still exposed until it was touched again. So... what are you going to do about it?"

"Well, for one thing, I'm not going to lose my temper again; she doesn't deserve it." He cleared his throat. "Computer: send a reply to Captain Lucille Arrington, USS Impala. The message reads: 'Request Denied'."

"Acknowledged."

He straightened up and met Kami's gaze. "What?"

She smiled. "Nothing."

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 2, Counselor's Office, 1600 Hours:

The six members of Alpha Squad sat in a circle on the floor with varying degrees of apprehension, with Kami among them, smiling at each in turn. "Some of you have already had solo sessions with me, but for the rest, this is the first time we've met professionally, so I need to put down a few ground rules about our times in here, requirements we need to agree upon.

The first requirement for being in here, whether individually or as a group, is Discretion. This is meant to be a safe and secure place; what's said in here stays in here. We do not discuss it outside this room, whether with colleagues, family members, anyone else. This applies to me as well, unless what I learn here might affect the health and safety of yourselves or others. Violation of this is a very serious offence.

The next requirement is Openness. Knowing that confidentiality will be maintained in here, we should feel secure enough to open up. That 'we' includes me; you can ask me anything, and I promise I'll answer it if I can."

Sitting opposite her, trying to look cool and casual, Giles folded his arms across his chest and asked, "Anything at all?"

"Yes, Giles. It wouldn't be fair of me to hold back while still expecting you to do otherwise."

"No matter how personal?"

She smiled. "Do you want to test me? Go on, then."

He smirked. "Okay: who was your best lover?"

"Giles!" Sasha, sitting on Kami's right, snapped.

"Class act as always," Neraxis grumbled.

"You are a braying ass," Eydiir declared, glowering at him.

But Kami held up a hand. "Settle down. I did say he could ask." She focused on Giles again, her voice becoming more melodic, sultry. "Well, Giles, my best lover was Rmorra, a Caitian male who served as a Starfleet security officer assigned to the Federation Archaeological Bureau, protecting ancient planetary sites from scavengers." She leaned back and smiled with the memories invoked. "He had a scent like honey and sandalwood, fur the colour of chocolate, pointed-tipped ears, and shoulders a light year wide. And when we were together... he made my body *sing*."

The room was still, but then her eyes grew sad. "He was my husband. He was the father of my cub. And he was my best friend. And the only time he ever made me cry was the day he was shot in the back and killed by raiders on a nameless planet, for some broken pottery."

The room grew unbearably silent. Giles' expression shifted from the prurient to the penitent.

"Sorry, Giles," Kami apologised. "I know you were expecting something sexy. But I didn't promise sexy, only personal." Her gaze narrowed. "How about you, Giles? Who was your best lover?"

"She's at the end of his right arm," Neraxis quipped, provoking titters among them, and a glare from Giles.

But the boy recovered quickly, angrily declaring, "Lovers, actually. They were twins. We had a hell of a time before I left the Academy Annex."

"Twins?" Kami's eyes widened with awe. "That *is* impressive. What were their names?"

Now he paled. "I, ah, shouldn't reveal their identities."

"I understand. What about first names?"

"Oh, uh... Carol. Carol, and, uh, Janet."

Kami nodded, looking to the others again. "Which brings me to the final requirement: Honesty. I know there may be times when you don't feel like participating, and that's fine. But it's something else entirely to be dishonest. And as honesty is integral to a member of Starfleet, it's a critical requirement."

Her gaze narrowed. "I have been a Counselor for longer than any of you have been alive. I have degrees in Interspecies Psychology. And my Caitian senses allow me to detect the subtle changes in your scents, your voices and expressions, everything that will tell me when you're talking crap." Now she offered Giles a final look. "So when you *do* talk crap, I may not say anything at the time. But I won't forget."

Giles looked away.

Now she leaned back, looking to each of them in turn. "Well? Are we agreed?"

They all made various nods or sounds of assent.

"Good. Well, most of these first group sessions tend to be boring, as nothing ever happens so soon. However, Jonas has raised something interesting for us." At his glum reaction she explained, "I'll use humour to defuse tension, Jonas, never to ridicule." She looked around again. "Does anyone want to say anything first?"

"Yes." Sasha leaned forward, catching Jonas' attention. "I'm sorry about what happened this morning. I didn't react the way I should have, both as your Squad Leader and your friend. And then you took off and went on your own, didn't respond to my hails. You must have been so mad at us-"

"Mad at you?" he interjected, looking confused. "I thought you were going to have me arrested!"

"Arrested? What- What for?"

"You know, the Starfleet policies against..." Jonas paled. "Sexual misconduct and harassment."

"The definitions of sexual misconduct and harassment are by necessity broad," Kami informed him, looking to the others again. "And open to interpretation, but typically grounded on a party feeling harassed, victimised or threatened by another party's words or actions. Did anyone feel threatened by what happened?"

"Absolutely not," Sasha declared.

"Hell, no," Neraxis added.

"You have proven yourself to loyal and tenacious," Eydiir contributed. "Not threatening."

Kami looked to Kitirik. "How about you, Kit?"

The Qarari's throat folds reddened. "I feel more sympathetic than threatened. Based on what I have researched, the humanoid male reproductive system seems needlessly complicated."

"You should read up about the female systems," Kami offered with a smile, indicating Giles. "And how about you, stud? Were you threatened?"

Giles smirked. "Not from what I saw, no."

"Son of a bitch, Giles!" Sasha exclaimed, looking ready to throttle him. "Can you stop being a schmuck for one damn minute?"

At everyone's agreeing reactions, Giles breathed out, looked to Jonas and muttered peevishly, "Sorry, okay? I was just joking. Look, it happens to all guys."

"Then why didn't you say something?" Kit asked. As everyone looked to him, the Qarari continued. "When I later understood more fully the biological and societal issues involved, I realised I had made a grievous error in protocol with my questioning. But you cannot claim ignorance. Friend Jonas has been consistently cordial and accommodating to you in all the times I have witnessed you two together. Yet you said nothing to support or comfort him when he was distressed. What if it had been you in his position?"

Eydiir spoke up now, glaring at Giles. "A good question."

"This is confusing for me," Kit confessed. "Friend Giles, please forgive me if I have overstepped my social boundaries-"

"No. No, you haven't." A more subdued Giles looked to Jonas again. "Sorry, pal. And... I'm sorry about this morning. You're... you're a good teammate."

"Jonas," Kami said softly, "No one here is exempt from embarrassing moments, myself included - someday I may tell you what happened to me at a funeral when I was much younger - and living together, you will see each other's dirty underwear, both physical and figurative. You'll see each other naked, you'll know who's having their periods, or breaking wind, or even who's shedding their skin."

She smiled at Kit's flushed reaction to that last example. "The important thing is that you'll learn to accept each other, to trust each other, and to give each other space and privacy when needed. And Jonas, I think you'll look back on today as something to laugh about."

Jonas nodded - but he was wiping tears from his face.

"What is it?"

He breathed in, looking both stressed and relieved. "I was- I was terrified that I'd have to leave. I- I grew up alone, with just my mother and the workers in her company around me. No one my age. Then I joined the Academy, and met so many amazing people... you guys are the best. So, I was just afraid that you wanted me out."

Sasha smiled at him. "It would take a lot more than what happened to do that."

"Indeed," Eydiir agreed. "As we have not yet disembowelled Giles, our standards must be extremely low."

Giles gave the Capellan a sarcastic thumbs up.

Beside him, Neraxis pointed at Jonas' chest. "What have you spilled down here?"

Jonas looked down - as her blue finger shot up and flicked his nose.

She grinned. "You gotta be more on the ball than that, Scrappy. You got a Big Sister now."

Everyone smiled, as Kami wound up the proceedings. "Well, that worked out well. Maybe we can move onto a less-embarrassing topic for all of you? Anyone have anything new to bring up?"

"I do, Respected Counselor," Kit offered. "What can you tell me about masturbation?"

*

Deck 2, Executive Officer's Quarters, 2200 Hours:

T'Varik had been in the midst of reaching a new meditative level when her door chime rang. The disappointment and annoyance she felt for 6 milliseconds was examined and mentally filed away for further scrutiny as she rose from her meditation mat, slipped into a simple black robe and approached her door. "Open."

Hrelle's frame filled the doorway. "Commander, am I disturbing you?"

"Yes, but only to a manageable degree. How may I assist you?"

"I need to bring you up to date on a situation involving one of the cadets. And... I would like some advice from my First Officer."

She regarded him for a moment, before stepping aside and allowing him to enter. "Computer: raise illumination to standard levels. Do you require me to lower the room temperature, Sir?"

"No, it makes me feel at home, though ours wasn't such a dry heat." He sighed. "This is about Mr Arrington."

She made an almost discernible effort not to display a discernible reaction. "He is proving to be an enduring figure on this mission."

He recounted the messages from Captain Arrington, and the increasing hostilities between Hrelle and her. When he was done, he breathed out and said, "So, I wanted your opinion on the situation. Am I being unreasonable?"

"Yes."

He blinked. "You don't want to take your time, have a good think before giving me your answer?"

"There is no need. You repeatedly acted inappropriately to a simple request."

"It wasn't a request, it was a demand! Like she was still an upperclassman and I was the lowly plebe she could demean!"

"Nevertheless, you should not allow your past experience to affect your present behaviour. Granted, it was not put through proper channels, but it was in the end a simple communications request."

He grunted, conceding the point. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I-"

Hrelle's combadge chirped. "Bridge to Captain."

He tapped the badge. "What is it, Chief?"

The gruff Tellarite voice came through loud and clear. "Captain, sensors have picked up a Starfleet vessel on an intercept course with us at high warp. Its registry beacon identifies it as the USS Impala."

Hrelle looked to T'Varik as he replied, "Thanks, Chief. I'm on my way." As he tapped the comlink shut, he asked the Vulcan, "I know your shift isn't starting for another two hours-"

"I will get dressed and meet you on the bridge directly." She turned and started slipping out of her robe; Hrelle was already out the door.

*

On the bridge, Grev vacated the Captain's chair, but Hrelle had stopped at the station occupied by Lt. Abed, the Security officer, a confident, experienced man whom Hrelle wished had more to do on this mission. That wish now dogged at him. "Mr Abed, glad you're on duty. Think I might need someone other than one of the kids on Tactical."

The Terran grinned. "Has Starfleet declared war on us?"

Hrelle was grateful that T'Varik had stepped onto the bridge, giving him a chance to not answer that while he finally took his seat. "Hail them."

The Beta Shift Ops officer, an Andorian cadet whose name escaped him at the moment, frowned. "Trying, Sir, but they're not responding."

Hrelle's hackles rose, but he kept calm. "Helm, stay on course to Karakol, Warp 4. Mr Abed, what's our weapons status?"

Hrelle felt the stares on the back of his head. "Our weapons, Sir?"

"Yes, you know, the things we use when we get into fights. What's our status?"

"Uh, phasers and photon torpedoes are operational but offline, as expected. I don't- Sir, the Impala is on a parallel course, but at Warp 8. They're passing us... turning... Sir, it's on a direct heading for us!"

"Helm, full stop. Go to Yellow Alert."

From her own station on Hrelle's right hand side, T'Varik looked to him. "Captain, are you sure this is-"

He shot her a look. She was astute enough to cut off any further protest.

"We're at full stop, Sir," the Helm officer informed him. "Impala dead ahead, reducing speed... Warp 6... 4... 2..."

Hrelle heard the bridge doors open again, and a scent told him who it was without him looking; he hoped the Counselor wouldn't interfere. "Try hailing them again."

"Aye, Sir." A moment later, she announced. "No response."

Hrelle felt his grip on the arms of his chair tighten. What was Lucille playing at? Leaving her assigned patrol route to come here over a stupid request? Did she really think she could come here and make him roll over and meow for her again? "Where's the Impala?"

"Almost two thousand kilometres dead ahead."

"Put it onscreen."

The viewscreen altered, and then they all saw the imposing shape of the Nebula-class cruiser: larger, younger, faster and better-armed than the Surefoot. In another life, he might have eventually captained a ship like that.