Surefoot 10: Fast and the Furriest

The Vulcan took the command chair. "You did not necessarily do anything wrong, Squad Leader. However, the potential for escalation into a major incident was high."

"Escalation?" Neraxis declared, "They're the ones that came in with shields raised, weapons armed-"

"There is a Ferasan saying: 'A roar is not always a warning; sometimes, it is a salute'. It is standard Ferasan tactics to approach an unfamiliar vessel under conditions which might be interpreted as hostile, without actually intending hostility; it is a sign of respect for us. But, had you responded by firing first, the results would have been... unfortunate. Particularly for ourselves, given how outmatched the Surefoot is in comparison."

"These Ferasans appear most belligerent," Kit noted. "Forgive my ignorance, but I am unfamiliar with them. Are Caitians an offshoot of them?"

"We most certainly are not!" Rrori snapped, clearly offended. "They are an offshoot of my people! A twisted version of us! Militant, bombastic, they're nothing but disgusting throwbacks!"

"Vulcans have shared similar attitudes regarding Romulans," T'Varik admitted dryly. "Recent intelligence reported that the Ferasans are in this sector for commercial interests; had you consulted the bulletins before you started your shift, their presence would not have been such a surprise."

"Yes, Commander." After a moment Sasha asked, more softly, "Ma'am... do you know why that Ferasan made that challenge to my father? Or why he responded the way he did?"

"No, Sasha, nor do I wish to engage in idle speculation on the matter. However, as you are now off duty and presumably bound for the Mess Hall, where I believe he is still finishing his breakfast..."

"Good idea, Commander."

"I am aware of that, Cadet."

*

Hrelle continued to cut up his remaining pancakes, which in his absence had become thoroughly suffused with syrup and turned cold, without actually bringing any of them on a fork to his mouth.

Beside him, Kami had finished off her melon dish and now sipped at her tea. "At this point you can't make the pieces any smaller without the help of Nanites."

"Is that right?" he challenged blankly.

"Do you want me to fill in T'Varik and Sasha on the reason for all that on the bridge? They'll be concerned."

"No need. It's over and done with."

"Of course it is. No issues to deal with, no unresolved problems, nothing. Everything is fine."

"I'm glad we're on the same wavelength."

"Ahem."

Hrelle looked up at Sasha, who stood on the other side of his table with her tray. She smiled. "Can I sit with you please, Daddy?"

He blinked, aware of Kami's amused reaction to his stepdaughter's use of 'Daddy' and the childish voice - a tactic she employed from an early age whenever she wanted something, having instinctively gleaned how emotional it made him, and thus more likely to grant her whatever she wanted. "Of course, sweetheart. Do you want help cutting up your food?"

She sat down. "Hell, no, I'm not letting you anywhere near my grub, you greedy bastard, you'll inhale half of it before I even get a taste." As Kami laughed at that, Sasha tucked into her French toast before the whipped cream totally melted and mingled with the blueberries and syrup. "So, are you gonna tell me what that was all about?"

"No."

"Come on. I'll let you tease me about having sex with Giles."

"I'll do that anyway."

She swallowed the food in her mouth and licked her lips. "Don't make me bring out the Big Guns, Dad."

"The 'Big Guns'?" Kami enquired.

Sasha stared across at her father - and started banging the ends of her knife and fork in her hands on the tabletop. Loudly.

All eyes turned to them, as Sasha continued to make noise, never taking her eyes off of Hrelle. Kami looked to him for explanation, as he complied, over the rising din. "Hannah said she's been doing this since she was an infant, to try and get her own way." As Sasha increased the noise and tempo, making the glasses and cutlery on the table rattle, he added more loudly, "As you can tell, she remains an annoying little bitch." But he reached out and gently clasped his hands over hers, ending the protest. "Fine. You win."

She grinned. "I usually do. So, what was that all about?"

He picked up his cutlery again, but recognised the futility of even trying to eat now, and set them down again, reaching for his coffee instead. "Caitians and Ferasans... do not get along. At all. We were once one people, all called Ferasans, before we fled from them a thousand years ago."

Sasha nodded. "The Diaspora. I remember reading about it when I was a kid, when I wanted to know more about your people."

He nodded back absently. "You read the cleaned-up Junior Version of events, that we left to find a new home because we disagreed with what Ferasans were becoming.

But it was more than that. They had rejected the peaceful teachings of the Great Mother in favour of their toxic Patriarch, all misogynistic fire and fury. They had genetically Augmented themselves, the way humans tried to do on Earth centuries ago, but in our case they succeeded, becoming bigger, stronger, faster, even producing telepaths, and they took over Ferasa Prime. They were building an armada to take over the Galaxy. We tried to stop them. So... they tried to exterminate us."

Sasha paled. "They did?"

He sipped at his coffee. "They consider themselves superior to us, think us weak and soft, an embarrassment. More than once over the centuries they tried to attack Cait, the way they did Earth. But like most bullies, they underestimate the strength of their intended victims, and overestimate their own, and we beat them, time and again.

Still, they can't let that go, and every so often when they hear a Caitian is in the area, they like to come along and challenge us to mortal combat." He shrugged. "That's all."

Sasha caught a reaction from Kami, as if there was more to the story than her stepfather was saying, but chose to remain silent about it. And so did she. "Well, if that's all-"

"Yes. That's all-" When his combadge chirped, he responded, "Sorry, T'Varik, I know I'm late, but-"

"I am not admonishing you for your tardiness, Sir. A matter has arisen requiring your attention."

He sighed. "I'm on my way. Hrelle out." He rose to his feet. "Sorry if I seemed angry with you on the bridge, Runt of the Litter."

She smiled up at him. "That's okay, Dad. All is forgiven."

Then he swiftly reached across, folded up one of her French toasts and carried it away with him, dripping whipped cream and blueberry syrup on the carpet along the way.

"You son of a bitch!" she called after him, as the room settled down again. Then she looked at Kami, concerned once more. "Is he okay?"

"He will be." Kami smiled, wanting to lighten the mood and distract the girl. "Tell me... how do you feel about doing babysitting in the near future?"

*

T'Varik was back at the Ops station when Hrelle returned. "What is it?"

"We are receiving another Ferasan transmission."

"Mother's Cubs... alert any combat-ready Starfleet vessels in the area to chase these cats away."

"Sir, this is not from the vessel which had just intercepted us, but another, designated as The Bloodstained Shroud."

"Hmm, with a name like that, they must be on a peace mission, right?"

"Actually, they are, the vessel's designation notwithstanding. They were granted a licence to visit certain sectors within the Federation to promote trade and tourism to their homeworld, and presumably counter their people's public image."

Hrelle grunted. "Good luck with that." He stared out at nothing in particular, before finally replying, "Put them onscreen."

Seconds later, the starfield was replaced by another interior shot, taken up by another Ferasan: as tall and imposing as Second Son, this one had thinning, greying fur and a broken right sabretooth, and his leathers and armour were colourful, decorated with jewels and gold pieces. "Captain Hrelle, I am Consul Treshek. I understand our escort ship intercepted you earlier, piloted by SecondSon of R'hewann.

I am calling to apologise for that. He is my subcommander, from a related Pride, assigned as a favour to them, but he took the ship without permission to challenge you, and I can assure you that his actions were not sanctioned by either myself or the Patriarch's Council. Our intentions here are entirely peaceful."

Hrelle grunted. "What are your intentions here, Consul? I have heard it is to promote trade and tourism. That doesn't seem work worthy of a Ferasan Consul."

"Any duty which helps others see through the lies spread about us by our enemies is a worthy one. And I am empowered to secure deals for tourism, services, and trade with any Federation member world."

Hrelle nodded, knowing full well that the Caitians counted among their enemies. "And your Klingon masters allow this?"

Treshek visibly bristled, but he recovered quickly. "The Ferasans have no masters, Captain, just allies... and prey. We will conquer you... at least, your hearts and minds." He bared ruby-encrusted teeth, in an approximation of humanoid good humour.

Hrelle knew how felinoids would interpret that expression, however. "Well, it's been lovely talking with you, but I've no one to blame but myself for answering your call-"

"Captain, we would like to offer recompense to you for the unfortunate incident earlier. We understand you might be in short supply of certain essential materials, which we have brought with us in large quantities to trade, and could offer you at reasonable rates: Starfleet-grade deuterium, replicator base proteins, transtator circuits-"

"We don't need anything from you."

"Are you certain, Captain? We also have many facilities here on The Bloodstained Shroud, here to display our culture in all its glory: museums, theatres, food, entertainment. You and your crew are welcome to visit and enjoy-"

"I said No."

"If you are concerned about SecondSon, you need not fear him-"

Hrelle stepped forward. "Let me be clear on this, Consul: it'll take more than some mangy, snaggletoothed, rat-tailed Ferasan arsehole looking to earn himself a Name to make me afraid! Just get on with your business and we'll get on with ours. Surefoot out."

The viewscreen returned to the starfield as Treshek was starting to reply, producing chuckles from some of the cadets on the bridge.

Hrelle felt himself relax now. "Helm, continue on our original course." He felt his First Officer shift closer. "Yes, Commander?"

"May I speak with you privately, Sir?"

He nodded, expecting this. "Mr Falok, take the Grown Up Seat."

The senior officers were silent until they entered the adjacent briefing room, before the Vulcan proceeded. "Sir, your attitude towards the Ferasans is not appropriate."

"Oh? Is that right?"

"Yes, Sir. You need to present to our cadets a more professional attitude when dealing with other races. Even with ones who share a chequered history with your own."

"You call what they tried to do 'chequered'?"

"It is not dissimilar to my own people's history with the Romulans."

"Oh? Did the Romulans ever try to come back and blow up Vulcan? Were you ever threatened with forced genetic manipulation, with being eaten by them?"

"Admittedly, no, Sir. But the fact remains, your behaviour is disappointing-"

"Oh, is it? Well, thank you so very much for your kind assessment, Bubulah!" He paced around the room, his temper and voice rising. "I am so sorry for my poor performance! I'm such a rude man! I should have bent down and KISSED HIS FURRY ASS!"

He struck the tabletop with his fist, cracking it.

T'Varik remained silent.

He straightened up, lowered his arms but kept his hand in a fist. "I'm... sorry for that outburst, Commander."

"It is... understandable, Captain, given the history of Ferasans and Caitians-"

"No. It's not that. It's more... personal." He rubbed at his eyes, his tail hanging limply behind him. "That was not the first time I have encountered SecondSon. Do you know what he was challenging me for?"

"I assumed it was some Ferasan test of honour."

"He's called SecondSon because Ferasans are raised Nameless, designated with labels involving their family connections or occupations, and have to earn their names, by performing some great service to their Patriarch... or by winning a great victory that will have them singing ballads about them. Such as challenging the likes of me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is there any particular reason why he would choose you for that?"

"Yes." He drew closer to her, but wasn't quite able to look at her. "When I was a captive in the Orion fighting pits, I became one of the very few combatants to survive nearly a hundred of their deathmatches. They called me the... the B-Beast. I faced opponents of many species, including Ferasans, and somehow the Ferasans heard about this.

So there are more than a few Nameless Ferasans out there like SecondSon who have sought me out to challenge me, and earn a name through killing me... or even by being killed by me."

A look of shame crossed his expression. "I've tried to explain to him that I wasn't there of my own free will. I was starved, I was given drugs like hypocordrazine to increase my aggression and stamina, I had pain implants in my spine to force me to fight. I- I was not proud of what I did, it wasn't honourable, not worthy of b-ballad or epic or even boasting, but a-a n-nightmare that I- I w-wanted to es-escape-" He stopped as his stammering increased, growing more agitated until he slammed his fist into his other hand. "Sorry."

The Vulcan's expression softened. "Captain-"

"The Great Mother taught us to revere life, to love and respect and forgive." He turned away, reaching out and resting his other hand on the edge of the table as if for support. "My time as a gladiator went against everything I was taught. If I was lucky, the drugs would blank out my memories of the fights themselves, and the only clue I would have of the events was the fact that I was still alive - and that my fur, and my... mouth... was c-covered in flesh and b-blood. But I wasn't always lucky. My Orion Master, Surinh Dag, made a lot of m-money off his B-Beast."

"Captain," T'Varik said, softly, sympathetically, "You were forced to commit those acts-"

But he shook his head, staring out the window at the starfield at warp speed. "I suppose what I'm saying is that, to you and to me and to most right-thinking individuals, what I underwent was a nightmare best put behind me. To the Ferasans, however, it's an opportunity, for b-battle, for g-glory. I c-c-can't-" He smacked his fist into his hand again. "Mother's Cubs, I haven't lost such control in years."

The Vulcan's expression shifted almost imperceptibly, and it was only Hrelle's keen olfactoral senses that confirmed for him a sheathed embarrassment and regret from the woman. "Esek, I am truly sorry for the distress I have raised in you."

He swallowed and visibly calmed himself, wondering if that was the first time she had used his first name since they'd met. "It was there already, you didn't raise it. And you were right, as usual. The cubs pick up my bad traits as well as my good ones - if I have any of the latter."

"You have many of those, Sir."

"Thank you. So I will endeavour to stay professional in future. But I will also endeavour to avoid contact with the Ferasans."

"And I will endeavour to assist you in that, Captain."

"Thank you again. Contact them, make the appropriate trade arrangements. And arrange for the cadets to visit their facilities. It'll be educational."

Then his combadge chirped, and Kami's voice joined them. "Captain Hrelle, please report to the Holodeck immediately." He smiled a little at the announcement. "That's unexpected. Maybe she's arranged for a little romantic time on some simulated getaway?"

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "You two do not appear to need the holodeck to enjoy each other's company. However, if it is the case, then the appropriate response from me would be... have fun."

*

Somewhere Else:

"Captain's Log, Imperial Date 36521.31, Captain Esek Hrelle, ISS Surefoot: We have just departed from our rendezvous with the Impala and Captain Arrington, having delivered the subspace isolytic warheads needed to pacify the rebellion on Karakol. We are most pleased to contribute in our own small way towards keeping the Empire safe. End log."

Beside him on the bridge, his Counselor and mate Kami sneered as she played with the dagger strapped to the gold sash on her miniskirt; her skimpy top barely held together to keep her ample breasts encased. "So, how long do you think it will take before that bitch Lucille realises one of those warheads has been 'accidentally' activated?"

He chuckled, tugging at his shimmering gold sleeveless top and playing with the jewelled handle of the blade strapped to his own sash. "About a millisecond after she also realises who's responsible, and that we've kept the majority of the weapons, to destroy Karakol ourselves and claim the glory."

She purred at that. "'Contribute in our own small way'... how do you keep from choking on your own words?"

He grunted. "I have a big appetite." He leered at her as he reached out and drew her closer, making her tail wag and her purr grow. "For many things."

But then he suddenly ducked as he felt a hand reaching for his neck, and he blindly grabbed behind him, grasping and flinging a body over his shoulder to hit the floor before him. "TRAITOR!"

On the ground, T'Varik, clad in an attractive outfit identical to Kami's, except it was in Command Red instead of Medical Blue, looked up at him. "Captain, wait, I was merely-"

"You were merely trying to give me a neck pinch, my sweet little second in command," he sneered, drawing the blade from its scabbard on the side of his chair. "Looking to take over and claim the glory yourself? Nice try, T'Varik." He bared his teeth and loudly proclaimed, "Looks like Vulcan is on the menu tonight!"

"What in Mother's name is going on?"

All eyes on the bridge turned to the newcomer, seemingly unnoticed until now, a Caitian almost identical to the one in the Captain's chair, but in a different uniform, his face filled with outrage as he drew closer, focused on Kami. "What is this all about?"

The other Hrelle glared at him. "He looks like me! An imposter, sent to take my place-"

Then Kami announced, "Computer: Freeze Program."

Everything but the real Hrelle and herself turned still, the latter walking around, glancing down at her outfit. "What do you think? I might have to keep this for the bedroom-"

"Kami, what is all this?"

She smiled at him. "A psychological exercise, devised by the Counseling Services, utilising the new holodeck technology. You remember that old story of Captain Kirk's sojourn to a quantum reality that was like our own, but with significant differences?"

"That?" Of course he was; it was the stuff of legend, how Kirk and his landing party had somehow crossed over via a transporter malfunction into another universe, one that contained duplicates of themselves, their ship and others they knew, but one where there was a ruthless Empire instead of a Federation, where torture was punishment, genocide was policy and promotions could be gained by assassination.

It had never been officially confirmed by Starfleet. Personally Hrelle thought it was load of shit; a reality that was as brutal as that described in the rumours would have left the other Enterprise with a radically different crew by the time the real Kirk visited it. But it was intriguing nonetheless. "What about it?"

"This simulation is based on accounts and extrapolations of that other reality, as well as your own psychological profile, and is designed to approximate how you might be depicted there."