Surefoot 10: Fast and the Furriest

He stared at the frozen holographic version of himself. "What? Why would anyone want to do that? What's the point?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "To illustrate one's dark side, Esek. Some people refuse to believe that they have one. Others think they're already enveloped by it. Seeing a version of oneself without any civilised beliefs, any veneer of decency and kindness, can offer a fresh perspective. Counselors are considering employing this new holodeck technology towards helping others see their hidden natures-"

"Computer: End Program." As the characters and setting vanished, replaced by a room of yellow and black gridlines, Hrelle glared at her. "I don't need this to see my hidden nature. I've seen it. I've embraced it! And it's far worse than that parodic posturing clown you conjured up-" Suddenly his combadge chirped, prompting him to snap, "Yes?"

T'Varik's voice filled the air. "Sir, forgive the interruption, but there is an incoming priority message from a Captain Sa'Rahn."

Hrelle's expression changed instantly, his mood lightening as if with antigrav handles. "Thanks, I'll take it in my quarters!" As he turned to Kami, beaming, he explained, "A distant cousin from a separate clan in the Luhar Peninsula. He encouraged me to join Starfleet; his career has been even more colourful than mine, if you can believe it. Come on, I want to introduce you!"

She looked ready to argue her point further, but instead shrugged and followed him out.

In their quarters, he strode up with her to the large screen behind his desk. "Ready, Commander."

The screen lit up, displaying a sepia-furred Caitian male looking remarkably like Hrelle, though with a more expansive belly that refused to be contained beneath the officer's Starfleet jacket, and his voice carried an accent different to his cousin. "Hello, Skinny! Mother's Cubs, you're worse than when I last saw you! You're all fur and bones!"

Hrelle shrugged, resting his hands on his own substantial belly. "It's all the sex I'm getting now that I'm married. How are your parents? And Leo and Morley?"

"Everyone's fine, Mother's still expecting you to visit, and my brothers are keeping out of trouble... mostly."

"Glad to hear it. Cousin, I'm pleased for you to meet my wife, Counselor and better half, Kami."

Sa'Rahn smiled brightly at her, noting the skimpy uniform she was still wearing. "A genuine pleasure, Kami - and I'm loving the outfit Skinny's obviously designed for you."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I actually had to add material to his original designs, or I would have caught cold."

Hrelle noticed the emblem on the wall behind Sa'Rahn. "What's going on? What are you doing at the Caitian Embassy?"

"Temporary secondment as Starfleet Liaison while my ship undergoes retrofits in Earth Station One. Which is why I'm calling you: the Ambassador has been made aware of the Ferasan Trade Delegates in your sector."

Hrelle nodded. "What a coincidence. I spoke with him earlier today, a Consul named Treshek."

Sa'Rahn nodded. "That's him. What was your impression?"

"He's a Ferasan. I'm glad to see the back of him."

"Sorry to hear you say that, Skinny. You see, we'd like you and your crew to have a sniff around his operations, see if it's all legitimate, or if there's something more to their trying to win us over."

"What? I got a boatload of cubs, I can't take them on a secret mission into hostile territory!"

The Caitian onscreen smiled again. "It's not exactly a mission. And there's been no actual declaration of hostilities between us. But there are enough red flags being waved to make us concerned that an ally of the Klingons with a history as militant as theirs might be making unwanted inroads into Federation territory. I'm transmitting authorisation from Starfleet to deviate from your assigned course, just to cover your tails. We don't anticipate any threats, but you're free to involve your cadets as much or as little as you see fit."

Hrelle sighed. "Well... I suppose I can manage something."

"Much appreciated, Cousin." Sa'Rahn smiled, offering a final nod to Kami. "And Counselor... stop having so much sex with him. He's wasting away to nothing!" The viewscreen darkened.

Hrelle looked to his wife. "I'd better go brief T'Varik. And yes, I know, we're not done talking about me."

Kami reached out and took his hand in hers, drawing him closer. "Esek... you are the bravest, most wonderful man I have ever had the pleasure to know, and love. You're a good man, no matter what you might have done in the past. And it is in the past; the Beast is dead."

He looked ready to argue with her, but decided against it.

*

Bloodstained Shroud:

The Ferasan ship was huge and saucer-shaped, a former troop and vehicle carrier now converted to a seemingly more peaceful purpose, with large interior sections in rings around a central column, rings now filled with examples of Ferasan painting, sculpture, weapons, fabrics and glassware, food and drink and music.

And people, performers as well as more ordinary Ferasans. There were many visitors to the ship, representatives from nearby worlds and colonies as well as the cadets of the Surefoot, taking in a cacophony of sights, sounds and smells with a mix of interest, wonder, curiosity.

And in Rrori's case, trepidation at being surrounded by scents that were like his own people, but at the same time not. And it extended to more than their scents: their size, how they looked and moved and reacted to his presence. It reminded him too much of that ancient Terran video that Jonas insisted they all watch one evening, where dead humans were for some reason being reanimated inside a shopping complex to consume the flesh of the living, looking human but certainly not acting in that way. It generated a psychological uneasiness that Kit described for some reason as an 'Uncanny Valley'.

He hoped he would get over it, and focus on his intrigue at seeing the divergences between his people and the Ferasans in the millennium since the Diaspora. It might even be worked into a report, one that would help him recover the academic credits he lost last month in the debacle over the Rising Star.

Speaking of which, he turned to see a happy-looking Jonas holding hands with their Rigelian colleague Soolamea, despite the general ban on Public Displays of Affection while in uniform, as they watched two Ferasan acrobats juggle blades, occasionally tossing them to each other without any warning. Jonas winced each time they did that. "They call this entertainment? My heart won't slow down!"

Soo nudged him, smiling. "You don't seem to mind that when I make your heart do that."

Behind them, Giles Arrington smirked and leaned into a distracted-looking Sasha. "Do you think we make other people nauseous when we act like that?"

"Forgive the correction, Friend Giles," Kit spoke up in front of them, never taking his eyes off of the demonstration. "But in grammatical terms, you two are nauseous, in that you are a force that makes the rest of us nauseated." He smiled to himself, pleased to have offered elucidation.

Next to them, Eydiir and Neraxis focused on the display, the Capellan's arms folded across her chest. "It is similar to an exercise my people perform, to practice in throwing and deflecting a kligat. I still possess a scar on my right breast from the one time when I was distracted."

The Bolian glanced at her. "I wondered about where you got that."

"And yet you haven't asked before now?"

Neraxis shrugged. "Didn't want you thinking I was staring at your boobs. That would be creepy."

"So instead I'm thinking you've been secretly staring at them. Which is not at all creepy."

"Caitian!"

Rrrori spun in place, his hackles rising at the approach of a tall, broad-shouldered indigo-furred Ferasan female, clad in leathers and armour, her thin, hairless tail swishing behind her. He guessed that she was about his own age, and had a small litter of friends following behind her as she drew closer, and he asked, "Yes? Can I help you?"

She stopped before him, standing a head taller than him, honey eyes fixed as smacked her fist against her chest, declaring, "I am FourthDaughter of Kesseth! Across the Trackless Veld I have journeyed to stand before you!"

"Really? Because it looks like you just crossed the Promenade, but still, I'm flattered. I am Meow Rrori."

Her flattened muzzle twitched and her eyes widened, and her friends reacted in similar manner. "You have a name? What did you do to earn yourself that?"

"I was born, for the most part. I was an exceedingly beautiful cub, and have only grown more attractive with time."

She stared at him in confusion, but quickly recovered, reciting her challenge once more. "Across the Trackless Veld I have journeyed to stand before you! I challenge you, Meow Rrori! In the name of the Patriarch, I challenge you to fight me!"

He stared up at her. "Thank you, no."

Rrori started to turn away, but FourthDaughter reached up, grasped his shoulder and spun him around again. "But I challenged you! You have to accept!"

"Why?"

"Because to refuse would bring great shame to you and your Pride!"

His furred brow furrowed. "I have a clan, not a Pride. And no, I don't think it would bring them shame. I think the only shame would be in having a needless fight where one or both of us is hurt, or worse."

Her friends drew in closer, even as he felt his own Squad do the same. The Ferasan female sneered. "I call you Coward for not accepting my challenge!"

"You can call me whatever you like. Your opinion of me means nothing."

She was stunned, clearly unable to process what he was saying, and glanced at her friends. "B-But I'm challenging-"

"Yes, very. But I'll forgive you because you have a certain charm. And we have different ways of challenging ourselves." He motioned to his friends. "Come on, let's see what else there is-"

"No, wait," FourthDaughter glanced at him, and then the others, before asking, "How do your people challenge themselves?" She glanced at the humans, Capellan, Qarari, Bolian and others. "Especially when dealing with so many inferior races?"

"'Inferior races'?" Neraxis repeated archly.

Rrori smiled. "We have ways."

*

In another part of the Shroud, Hrelle and Kami walked closely together, taking in similar sensory inputs, keeping a distance from the cadets whose scents lingered in the air if not their actual bodies. Kami kept an arm wrapped around her husband's, mimicking this with the tips of their tails as they noted the jewellery and other items of Ferasan art. "Do you see a theme running through these?"

Hrelle hadn't, more focused on the Ferasans who were eyeing them as the couple walked by, but answered, "Of course. But I'll let you feel better by telling me."

"You're too kind. It's all martial: weapons, shields, battles, hand to hand combat. Even the Pride-based art depicts their going into battle."

"What did you expect? You're not going to see a Ferasan's soft and tender side. There's none to find."

"I don't believe that."

"Believe it. I've met them. They're worse than Klingons. At least Klingons have a sense of humour."

She nodded to an open archway. "Look, they have a historical exhibit. Come, let's go learn something."

"But I thought maybe we could investigate the food court-"

"Later." They entered, finding a darkened corridor that gently zigzagged, opening up occasionally to provide an overhead holographic display, accompanied by a male narrator's voice. As a lush planet of many greens appeared around a hot white sun, the voice announced, "This is Ferasa Prime, home to our people, granted us by our Patriarch as our cradle, our castle, our Pridelands."

"It's beautiful," she noted, as images of verdant grasslands and shimmering cities with faces reflecting sunlight appeared.

"Cait is better," he groused. "Come on."

He tugged at her arm to follow along without replying. In the next display area, images of Ferasan cities spread out over endless velds appeared, until it focused on one Ferasan in old-fashioned clothes standing on a rock, looking up longingly at the stars. "We grew from a single tribe spread out over the T'Kathnal Veld, into a Phalanx of Prides, ready to reach out and touch the stars. But we were not yet strong enough, not in mind, and not in body. We needed to be stronger."

In the next display area, they saw holographic Ferasan scientists standing around a tall, muscular, sabretoothed figure, as the voice continued, "And so, with the blessing of the Patriarch, we made ourselves stronger. Stronger, faster, wiser."

"Don't know about the last part," Hrelle quipped, as Kami nudged him.

The next area offered something more graphic: riots in an urban area, between Ferasans sporting different coloured banners. "But there were those who chose to reject progress. They embraced a weak, false goddess, one who demanded that they remain stumbling and afraid, wallowing in gluttony, licentiousness and sloth."

"They left out lust," Hrelle muttered. "The best one."

"Such was their hatred of progress that they took militant action against those who would deny us the stars," the narrator continued, "Killing many innocents with their cowardly terrorist acts."

Kami was stunned. "What? How can they get away with talking such shit?"

"Who's out here to refute it besides us?"

The next area offered images of huge multi-generation ships leaving the planet. "And when their meagre courage escaped them, they fled, to settle elsewhere, to spread their lies."

Kami cursed and stormed out, Hrelle quickly following to find her in the Promenade again, Hrelle noting, "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm convinced: Caitians are the worst."

Her face was twisted with anger. "Can you believe they would spout that crap?"

"To be fair, it would be bad propaganda if it told the truth about what really happened. They have to keep some things under wraps."

"Well, you know all about that."

He looked at her. "Excuse me?"

"Those lies you told Sasha, that your attitude was all about cultural schisms, instead of your time in the Pits."

He shrugged, pretending to be distracted by some floating attraction on the Promenade. "She already knows I spent time with the Orions."

"She doesn't know the details."

Hrelle looked at her resolutely again. "And she doesn't need to know. Is that understood?"

"Captain?"

Hrelle turned to see a small party of Ferasans approach, led upfront by Consul Treshek and SecondSon, the younger of the two striding a little faster and towering over Hrelle, sneering with naked contempt. "No... you cannot be the Beast! The one from the videos! You are fat and old!"

Hrelle suppressed his revulsion at the young cub's presence, and his mention of the Orion tapes. "Please, no flirting in front of my wife, she gets jealous."

"SecondSon, step back!" Treshek barked as he joined them, grey eyes gleaming as he regarded the Caitians. "And be respectful to our guests."

The cub stepped back, but he remained disdainful. "I am not impressed with him."

"Whereas, I'm amazed by you," Hrelle replied. "Mostly that you managed to survive to this age without chasing your own tail off a cliff."

Treshek chuckled. "Please forgive the impulsiveness of youth, Captain." He held out a hand. "A pleasure to meet you, sir."

Hrelle stared at the offering - and then accepted it. "And you. This is my wife, and our Ship's Counselor, Kami."

The Ferasan turned to her and nodded politely. "Among our people, females are prized - but few hold positions of high authority. They are better suited for.. other functions."

Kami smiled politely. "Fortunately, our people recognise that a woman's functions don't just reside below the belt."

"Of course, of course." He nodded to the exhibit. "And what did you think of the historical display?"

"Utter shit," Kami replied without hesitation.

"You're quite right," he admitted, with equal lack of hesitation, relishing the reaction from the visitors as well as SecondSon. "Total nonsense, and I am thoroughly embarrassed by it. But it was what was approved by the Patriarch's Council, and I must abide by it." There was a glint in his eye. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

He breathed out. "Captain, Counselor, while my people continue with the bartering for supplies, I would very much like to invite you two to a private dinner, and a conversation, one where we can learn something. There are those among us who would benefit from that." He gave SecondSon a reproving look as he added, "Speaking of which: isn't there something you were supposed to say, cub?"

The young Ferasan scowled, gnashing his fangs in some token protest, barely able to look at Hrelle as he growled out, "I... apologise for disturbing you in the performance of your duties with my challenge."

Hrelle grunted. "Forget about it. I was young and stupid once, too."

"Thank you-" Then SecondSon frowned. "What?"

Treshek chuckled again. "Please, come. There's no reason why a set of intelligent beings such as ourselves can't at least be cordial with each other..."

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 1, Bridge:

T'Varik was in the midst of authorising the payment for replicator-grade proteins when Cadet Falok at Ops announced, "Commander, there is an incoming Starfleet vessel: the Impala."

She naturally suppressed any reaction, though she acknowledged that if she did react, it would logically be with surprise: the Impala was on an assigned patrol course elsewhere in this sector, and to her knowledge was not scheduled to rendezvous with the Surefoot or any other vessel here. "Hail them, Cadet."

"No need; they are hailing us."

The Vulcan woman set aside her PADD and straightened up slightly. "Onscreen."

Before them, the image of the Bloodstained Shroud and the surrounding vessels was replaced by another, larger Starfleet bridge, and a familiar middle-aged, copper-haired human woman in the Captain's seat. "Where's Hrelle?"

"Greetings, Captain Arrington. How may we be of assistance?"

"I asked you where Hrelle was."

T'Varik raised an eyebrow. "There are several Hrelles onboard: a Captain, a Counselor and a Cadet Squad Leader. Perhaps it would facilitate matters if you used their proper forms of address."

Arrington scowled. "You know I mean Captain Hrelle! Where is he?"

"Captain Hrelle is onboard the Ferasan ship."

"What? Why? Why is he meeting with them? Why did you leave your assigned route? Why are we detecting transporter activity between your two ships? What's going on here? Well? Why aren't you answering me?"

"I was waiting for a moment when you stopped asking questions. We have received orders from Starfleet on behalf of the Caitian Ambassador to scrutinise the Ferasan trade delegation in this sector; members of the crew and the cadets are onboard their ship, ostensibly for shore leave but in fact to gather intelligence towards that end. We are also engaged in a standard supply trade, hence the additional transporter activity."

"The Caitians? Why would they be interested in what the Ferasans were doing here?"

"Given their history I would have thought that self-evident, Captain."

"Don't get lippy with me, Commander! What do the Caitians think they're doing, ordering a Starfleet vessel around?"

"No lippiness was intended, Captain Arrington. As for your accusations, the orders were approved by Starfleet."

"I want to see copies of those orders!"

"I will transmit these in due course, once I have completed my other duties."

"NOW!" Arrington demanded.

For a moment, T'Varik almost sought a reason to delay this further - until she recognised that her attitude since the transmission opened was needlessly, deliberately baiting the other woman.