Surefoot 13: Vectors

"Damn," she said as she stared at the floor of Alpha Squad's quarters. "I'm gonna tell him, aren't I? Damn."

Eydiir noted approvingly. "He deserves to know."

"Not if he drops her," Neraxis grumbled.

The door suddenly chimed, and outside, Giles' voice carried through over the intercom. "Sash? Are you there? I saw Rrori on the way down here!"

"Damn," Sasha repeated.

*

Deck 3, Shuttlebay:

"Captain?"

Hrelle had been poking around, examining the areas detailed in the report about the subatomic bacteria, the so-called Shiprot. He couldn't notice any defects, even with his enhanced senses - it would only be during extended warp travel, or dangerous manoeuvres, that the microscopic damage would become very, very macroscopic.

But now he turned at the familiar beckoning voice. "Prakesh! Hello!"

Lt. Abed skidded to a halt, took a moment to catch his breath, and then smiled nervously. "Good to see you again, Sir. You look rested."

"Yes, I am, thank you, Lieutenant. Now what can I do for my Chief Security Officer? Has something come through from Starfleet Command?"

"No, no, Sir, nothing like that. It's just- I know this is very sudden, Sir, but... I'm requesting an immediate transfer."

"What? Is there a problem?"

"No problem, Sir. It's just that there's a position open for a Security Instructor at the Academy, one I've been after for years, and now it's mine - if I can get there in a week's time. Which means being on a transport to Earth before it leaves 154 in an hour. Assuming you approve it."

The news took Hrelle by surprise. He had been on friendly terms with Abed since taking command a year ago, but couldn't recall the younger man ever speaking about such ambitions. "Is Commander T'Varik aware of this?"

"Yes, Sir. She says she will expedite it immediately on your approval." Now he looked regretful. "Sir, I know this is incredibly short notice, I certainly didn't know my life would change direction when I woke up this morning. But it's an opportunity I can't pass by-"

"No need to apologise, Prakesh. Sometimes the Universe Has Other Plans - and if we're smart, we grab onto those plans by the horns - or whatever is at hand - and ride them." He smacked his combadge. "Hrelle to T'Varik: I approve Lieutenant Abed's transfer."

The Vulcan's voice echoed in the Shuttlebay. "Acknowledged, Sir. Please advise him his transport is departing earlier than scheduled, to accommodate the arrival of an incoming vessel that has declared an emergency. T'Varik out."

Hrelle nodded. "Well, so much for throwing you an impromptu farewell party; now I have to find another excuse for cake." He held out his hand, "Thank you for all your service, Lieutenant Abed."

Abed took the proffered hand. "These cadets are so lucky to have you as a commander, Sir."

Hrelle's expression was fixed, as he recalled how disparaging he had been about the idea of commanding a boatload of cubs. "Thanks. Now get off my damn ship, that's an order."

"Yes, Sir!" He rushed off, like a child given permission to go to the playground with his friends.

Hrelle watched him depart. Maybe he would be the first. Maybe others would be deserting the sinking ship, once word about the Shiprot got out.

And what about himself? His threat to find an assignment that had nothing to do with Sasha and the cadets? Speaking to his own wife, who was carrying his cub, like she was his subordinate?

Feeling like a total jerk, he headed for the airlock, and the Starbase facilities, before the Universe decided to drop something on his head as punishment.

Not that he wouldn't deserve it.

*

Deck 1, Mess Hall:

Jonas picked at the tortilla chips and cheese, preferring to nurse his beer.

Sitting opposite, Rrori tucked into a salad, making surprisingly approving sounds. "I will never complain about rabbit food again, after my clan stuffed me with an endless supply of fried and grilled and broiled meats. Honestly, how any of my people live to a ripe old age, I don't know."

Jonas nodded perfunctorily. The assessment he had made on the Surefoot led to one obvious conclusion, but Commander T'Varik had ordered he stay silent on it until it was officially announced. It was killing him, that he couldn't confide in someone else.

The Surefoot would never fly again. What did that mean for Captain Hrelle? For all of them on the AWE Program? Would they be fostered onto another ship? Sent back to the Academy? Would they still be together as a Squad? And what would happen to Captain Hrelle, and the Counselor?

He knew there would come a day when his life would change direction. It did already, the day he was accepted into the Program, and met Sasha and Neraxis and Kit and the others... some of those changes were awful. But most were exciting, amazing, rewarding in ways he never would have guessed. Was it worth the bad parts? Absolutely. But now came the realisation that the good parts might be over, very soon.

He looked over at Kit, who had left the table for a second helping of replicated crickets, but had become distracted by a discussion with Chief Grev. Jonas ground his teeth; Kit could be amazingly perceptive at times. He almost considered letting Kit work it out himself.

He was drawn from his reverie by Rrori, pointing a fork in his direction. "Now there's a pensive face. What troubles you, my friend?"

"Oh... just thinking about the future. Realising we won't be on the Surefoot, or together, forever."

Rrori made an amused sound. "I would hope not, as my Matriarch would never let me hear the end of it if I was trapped in my final year for all eternity."

"You know what I mean."

Rrori set down his fork and smiled. "Yes, Jonas, I do. And we will miss everyone here when we eventually move on. But there is an old Caitian saying: 'Enjoy the prowl as much as the pounce'. Appreciate what you have today even as make your plans for tomorrow. And who knows? Perhaps when I'm commanding a starship of my own you could be my Chief Engineer?"

Jonas smiled slyly. "Or maybe I'll be Captain, and you'll be my Chief Helmsman?"

Rrori seemed to consider the possibility, before smirking. "Or more likely, both of us will be serving under Captain Hrelle's son."

Jonas blinked. "Son?"

Rrori resumed eating. "Yes, Kami's pregnant, with the Captain's son."

"WHAT?"

The Caitian stopped chewing to add, with a mouth half-filled with salad, "They, uh, might want to keep that to themselves for now. Don't tell anyone, okay?" He made a shushing sound as Kit returned with a second bowl.

Jonas thought he was going to burst with secrets.

*

Giles' grin was heartbreaking to her. "Welcome back, Warp Ten."

Sasha didn't move towards him, waiting for Eydiir and Neraxis to depart, Eydiir offering her a nod of silent support. When they were alone, he drew up to her, putting his arms around her. "Sorry I didn't meet you at the airlock, it had been a long shift." He moved in to kiss her.

She put up a hand to stop him. "How's your family? They didn't give you any problems, have they?"

"Mmm? No, not at all. Aunt Lucille is in a rehabilitation facility, recovering, though she will most likely be moved to a planetbound assignment rather than return to command the Impala." He smiled. "I know my Dad's still keeping an eye on the Surefoot, and Grandpa still bitches about 'that damned Caitian', but everyone's been fine with it - and there were a lot of Christmas and birthday presents waiting for me." He grinned. "But you're the only one I wanted to unwrap..."

He tried to kiss her again, but she blocked him again, prompting him to ask, "What's wrong?"

"We- We have to talk." She moved to the couch, planting herself on one end, waiting for Giles to take the other. Her heart was racing, and a part of her screamed inside to not tell him, to make something up to account for her odd behaviour. Her hands fidgeted with themselves, and it took some considerable effort to keep looking at him rather than them. "I have to confess something. While I was on Cait, I met a member of Kami's clan, a couple of years older than me. She took me out on the town, we went drinking and dancing."

He smiled. "Good, I'm glad you weren't feeling lonely-"

"And then we slept together."

Giles blinked. "Umm... by 'slept together', do you mean more than just sleeping together?"

She felt her face redden; in for a penny... "She and I had sex."

His jaw dropped, and they sat in uneasy silence before he demanded, "Is this- Is this some sort of a joke?"

"No, Giles, I- I wish it was. I know this is a shock-"

"A shock? Are you kidding me? I'm off trying to manage my family while they're in crisis, and you're off having fun with some strange woman!"

She felt the tears welling up in her eyes now. "Giles, I never set out for this to happen! It was hot, there was pheromones in the air, you weren't around-"

"Oh, so now it's my fault for not being there?"

"No! This is all down to me! I admit it!"

"How noble of you," he sneered. "How was she? How often did you do it? What did you do together? Was she better than me? Come on, let's hear all the details!"

"Giles, please, listen... I didn't set out for it happen, it just did."

He glared at her. "So, what, it was some impulse? Are you saying it won't happen again?"

"I-" She was about to confirm that it wouldn't... but she couldn't. She knew she would be saying it just to appease him and dampen her guilt at hurting him.

"Because it better not!" he demanded angrily. "I'm not letting you go off and humiliate me again!"

His words made her pause before replying, in a calm, measured tone, "I know you're upset over this, Giles... but you need to remember: I didn't do this to humiliate you. And we're not married, not engaged, not anything more than two people who live and work and sleep together. And even if we were more than that, you don't get to tell me who I bed. You don't own me."

His face tightened. "Well, then... there's no point in me hanging around here, is there?" He rose. "Enjoy whoring yourself around the Galaxy."

She bolted to her own feet. "GO TO HELL!" She pointed to the door. "Go on, get out!"

Giles stormed out, almost running into Neraxis and Eydiir, who were prowling around the entrance. The women entered, looking at Sasha, who stood there shaking, her hands balled into fists. "Where's Rrori's wine?"

*

Event Horizon Bar, Promenade, Starbase 154:

Hrelle was impressed with the number of women who approached him while he sat at the bar, initially believing it was the uniform - until he realised it was his tail, brushing against their ankles as they walked by, mistaking it for a come-on; he forced it to curl around one of the legs of his barstool.

He stared into his shotglass, feeling thoroughly sorry for himself.

"Nice tail, Stud. What have you got to offer on the front side?"

Hrelle never shifted, just looked up at the reflection of his wife in the mirror behind the bar. "Nothing as impressive in size, I'm afraid."

"Glad to hear it; bigger is not always better." She took an adjacent stool, her tail reaching out to encircle around his, curling and holding onto it. "So what's a girl got to do get a drink off a handsome guy?"

He signalled to the bartender, an Andorian whose antennae had undoubtedly already picked up Kami's words and was approaching. "Scalosian Sunset for the lady, please."

She made a pleasing sound, reaching for a bowl of Argelian nuts. "Trying to take advantage of me, Stud?"

"It's non-alcoholic. You're carrying our child." He took away the bowl. "These are bad for you, too."

She snorted. "Did Mama ask you to keep an eye on me?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Well, by 'ask', she threatened to ensure I never have any more cubs, with you or anyone else, if I didn't."

The Andorian returned with a thin glass of iced liquid layered in various pastel colours. She sipped at it through a straw appreciatively. "Good choice."

"I'm surprised you're still speaking to me after the horrible way I talked to you-"

"Shush, I'm flirting, and you're gonna kill the mood." She smiled seductively. "So, Stud, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm an Umglick."

"I don't know what that is, but I bet you're good at it."

He cradled his shotglass between thumb and forefinger. "Ooh, I'm great at it, as a matter of fact."

"So, are you gonna explain what it is, or are you leaving me in the dark?"

Hrelle downed his whiskey and signalled to the bartender for a refill. "There's an old saying: 'To lose one starship is seen as a misfortune to oneself; to lose another warns of misfortune to others'." He watched the bartender pour the amber liquid into the glass. "Many experienced Captains may lose one ship during their careers. But more than one? You get labelled an Umglick."

"And what in the name of my sweet fathers' tails does that mean?"

"An Umglick is a midshipmen's term for a Captain cursed with bad luck, a bad luck that will inevitably filter down to the next ship and crew he or she gets. I lost the Furyk, and now I lost the Surefoot. No one will ever want to serve under me with that record."

"So, even though both times you ships due to circumstances entirely outside your control-"

"Doesn't matter, bad luck is bad luck."

She smirked at that. "Well, it's reassuring to know that in the latter half of the Twenty-Fourth Century, there are still men and women willing and able to spout utter superstitious crap. And that a putz like you is willing and able to wallow in self-pity about it."

He eyed her. "Putz? Where did you pick up that bit of Yiddish?"

"Sasha; she gave me a primer on all those words you picked up from her mother."

"I haven't even had the Surefoot for a year."

"And yet you did quite a lot of good with it."

He grunted at that, raising his glass to his reflection. "Here's to Captain Umglick, of the USS Nothing."

He brought it to his muzzle to drink again, but Kami reached out and stopped him, raising her own glass as she caught his gaze. "Here's to Captain Esek Hrelle, formerly of the Furyk, formerly of the Surefoot, soon to be of the Something Else, currently my husband and the father of the cub I'm carrying in my belly... and still one of the best captains in Starfleet."

He smiled - and then frowned. "Only 'one of the best'?"

"Yes - your bouts of self pity are off-putting, and your cousin Sa'Rahn is quite attractive."

He growled and drank, as did she. He set down his glass. "I was an ass to T'Varik."

"No argument there. But I suspect even she realised you were talking crap." At his expression she smiled. "You might have started out taking this assignment to be close to Sasha, but you've grown to adore being Papa Bear to these cubs of ours, passing on your considerable experience and wisdom to them." She touched her abdomen. "And it'll get worse when this little one comes along, and your paternal caregiving hormones flare up-"

Both of them started at the sound of the klaxon, accompanied by an announcement. "All Starbase emergency personnel to your stations! On-duty teams to Docking Bay 4! Incoming vessel with wounded!"

He rose to his feet, fighting off the effects of the whiskey. "Come on, Bay 4's nearby, they might need help!"

The Caitians raced out onto the Promenade, and then through into a service corridor, their combadges identifying them to the security network, as they joined personnel with antigrav stretchers and medikits hanging under arms on shoulder straps. He looked to a young man in medical blue. "What's the situation, Ensign?"

The pale human, who looked like he was waiting for the day when he could have his first shave, swallowed. "The ship picked up a distress signal from a freighter, the SS Carolina, being attacked by pirates. They managed to beam the crew onboard and escape with their lives." He swallowed again and added, out of a senses of propriety, "Sir."

Hrelle nodded to him. "First emergency?"

The kid nodded.

"You'll be fine, Ensign," Kami assured him calmly. "Follow your training, focus only on the case immediately in front of you, and trust your people to take care of the others. We're only here to help, not to take over."

He nodded gratefully.

Hrelle, meanwhile, peered out the adjacent porthole to see a large but compact-looking vessel manoeuvre into the docking bay. It was a break from the traditional Starfleet saucer-engineering design, with its Secondary hull integrated and bisected into the hexagon-shaped saucer, and the two warp nacelles attached directly to the saucer via reinforced cowlings at the Bussard collectors. In its own way it was as radical a design as old Oberth-class ships like the Surefoot. He couldn't see the ship's name or registry number from here, but he had already recognised it as a Saber-class ship.

The ship completed docking, the alert signals sounded, and the airlock doors slid aside, as the ensign and the medical crew entered, followed closely behind by Hrelle and Kami.

They found themselves in a forward shuttlebay, its floorspace covered with several dozen people on emergency mattresses, some being tended to by uniformed personnel.

Hrelle and Kami grabbed spare medikits and followed orders barked by the ensign, who had admirably suppressed his nerves and was willing to give commands to people who technically outranked him, except during medical emergencies. The Caitians began checking and confirming diagnoses, though the wounded appeared well-organised.

Then Hrelle's attention was drawn by a tall, lanky, brown-orange skinned humanoid with a gaunt, skeletal face, emerald green eyes, and Lieutenant's pips on his Command-red Starfleet uniform. He didn't recognise the race, but strode up, medical tricorder scanning, his eyes and nose already noting the bleeding from the cut on the Lieutenant's left temple.

Immediately, the tricorder told him he was dealing with a Kelpien male. He grunted to himself; Kelpiens were relatively rare in Starfleet, mostly due to their predilection for a cautious approach to everything, developed from their evolutionary path as prey on their homeworld, a predilection that others mistakenly took for cowardice. "What's your name, son?"

The Kelpien was breathing hard, his eyes on the wounded on the floor. "Lieutenant Neheru, Sir, Utopia Planitia Conveyance Facilities."

Hrelle noted the tendrils on the Kelpien's face, fluttering excitedly, recognising it as an instinctive response to threats and potential threats - or just general extreme stress. He opened the medikit and prepared an autosuture. "Well, Mr Neheru, you have only a slight concussion, which we'll treat now, but the Sickbay team will still want to check you out further. How did you get it?"

Neheru nodded, and then winced at the effort. "I... I got it while being thrown out from the Captain's Chair. It was like the ship knew I didn't belong there."

Hrelle reached up and gently held the jutting chin still as he proceeded to repair the damage. "And what were you doing in the chair?"

"Utopia Planitia assigned me command of a skeleton crew to convey this vessel to Starbase 154. Then we picked up the distress signal from the Carolina, and responded."

Hrelle nodded, satisfied with the work on the cut, and preparing a mild sedative. "Must have been terrifying."

Neheru made a harsh sound, quickly correcting it with, "Sorry, Sir. Yes, yes it was. A Saber-class would have had more than sufficient firepower to easily defeat the pirates... were it not standard policy for the weapons systems to be off-line during routine conveyance journeys. So I decided to focus on keeping our shields up between the pirates and the freighter, beam out the freighter crew and escape."