Surefoot 18: Inseparable

USS Surefoot-A, Deck 1, Captain's/Counselor's Quarters, Stardate 45398.09 - 89 minutes until Ensign Sasha Hrelle's death:

Captain Esek Hrelle stared at his reflection much longer than necessary. Counting the grey furs. Counting the wrinkles barely hidden beneath them. Tugging at the loose skin under his muzzle. Noting the slower reaction of his tipped ears to being touched. Seeing the inevitable decay and decrepitude-

"Ahem."

He turned, seeing his wife standing in the bathroom doorway. "Do you want to use the mirror?"

Kami folded her arms over her chest, which was growing, along with her belly, thanks to the cub she was carrying. "I want to know why you're getting so maudlin. I thought we settled your fears of growing old."

He returned to his reflection. "I'm not afraid. I'm just... noting the passage of time, that's all."

She rolled her eyes. "It's just a birthday. It's not even yours."

"I know, but... she's twenty! That's significant!"

"Only if numbers matter to you. Humanoids love milestones, round figures, but they rarely mark actual, significant changes in history, either personal or galactic."

"She's all grown up." His voice became melancholy. "One more year onboard, and she'll graduate, and move on with her life. And I'll never know when I'll see her again."

"Yes. Cubs have a tendency to do that."

He grunted, moving out past her. "Glad to see you're so sympathetic-"

She grabbed his elbow to stop him. "I felt the same way when Mirow left the clan home to become a rescue pilot on Cait. And I'll feel the same way when Sasha goes off to start her Starfleet career, even though she's just my daughter by marriage... because I love her so much." She patted her Bump. "And we'll both be the same when Misha here is all grown up and goes on to do amazing things of his own."

"Are you trying to bring me down even more?"

"I'm trying to tell you to save the mood for our quarters; Sasha and her friends don't want to see a couple of old cats getting emotional and depressing." She drew in and rubbed the side of her muzzle against his. "It's her day. And it's going to be special. And I think she'll love your present."

He smiled, brightening. "Really?" He puffed up some. "And why not? How many fathers can offer something like what I can?"

She smiled back. "That's my man."

*

Deck 2, Crew Lounge, Stardate 45398.24 - 79 minutes until Ensign Sasha Hrelle's death:

"Happy Birthday, Runt of the Litter!" Hrelle declared, unnecessarily loudly as he approached the group, holding out the small black leather box in his brown-furred Caitian hand.

The young cadet sat at the table in the lounge, surrounded by her fellow members of Alpha Squad, her boyfriend Giles Arrington, and other cadets and crewmen who had brought their own gifts and congratulations, despite her attempts to downplay the occasion. She rose enough from her seat to reach out and accept the box. "Thanks, Dad, you shouldn't have, really."

Beside her, Neraxis Nemm's bald blue Bolian head flushed purple with amusement. "Maybe you should see what he got you before you say that, O Fearless Leader? It might be crap." At Hrelle's reaction she added, "Just kidding, Sir. I'm sure it's absolutely marvellous."

"Kiss my furry ass, Cadet," he growled - but winked at the girl.

Sasha grunted at the banter between them, but then her eyes widened as she opened the box, and she looked up at her stepfather. "Ensign's pips? Are these for when I graduate from the Academy next year?"

Hrelle was helping his wife Kami sit down. "They're for now: effective immediately, you're an Ensign, earning service time, credits and pay on that grade, all of which will count in any future career progression once you officially graduate and stop being an annoying little snotnose."

Sasha's jaw dropped as she glanced around her friends, before eagerly removing the pips from the box and started fitting them onto the collar of her red and black uniform, removing her Cadet Squad Leader insignia. "This is awesome! Thanks, Dad!" Then she sobered. "But what about the other Squad Leaders? It's not fair that they don't get the same."

On Hrelle's other side, First Officer Commander T'Varik offered typical Vulcan composure. "What the Captain has failed to mention is that this will apply to all the Squad Leaders, in recognition of the work you are doing onboard, in addition to your final year studies - and is of course dependent on your continued maintenance of the expected standards."

Giles grinned. "So I have a little black box waiting for me, too?"

"Yes, Mr Arrington. You, and the others."

Sasha grunted again, staring teasingly at her father, arms folded across her ample chest. "Some present, you cheap putz." In an imitation of his voice, she added, "'Here, have something everyone else is getting.'"

Kami smirked as she looked up at her husband. "You should have claimed part ownership of the present I gave her."

Now Sasha blushed. "No, he shouldn't!"

"What did Kami get you?" Giles whispered.

She blushed even further. "Shut up. I'll show you later."

"Before you nail me to the Wheel like the First Martyr," Hrelle took over. "Allow me to present you with your real present: an Away Mission... and a command." As he enjoyed her reaction, he looked to T'Varik. "Care to elaborate, Commander?"

T'Varik folded her hands behind her back. "We are currently on approach to a Class-J transport, the SS Eight of Swords. It was en route to Bajor with a shipment of weather modification satellites as part of their work towards planetary restoration following the Cardassian Occupation, when the vessel suffered a main drive failure, and the crew abandoned ship in a shuttle and arrived at Deep Space Nine last week. Alpha Squad has been assigned to board the Eight of Swords, assess its condition, make appropriate repairs, and pilot it to DS9. With you in command, of course."

Sasha's eyes brightened like novae. "A command? An actual command?"

"Assuming you can get the ship operational," Hrelle pointed out. "You'll take the ship to DS9 and await our arrival, after we make our tender run to the border ships near the Arkady Cluster."

She rushed around the table, embracing Hrelle. "Thank you!" Then she puffed up, beaming. "Captain Sasha Hrelle..."

"Ensign," T'Varik corrected, deadpan. "Try to treat this opportunity as a responsibility, not an ego trip."

"Of course, Commander, of course. I can be mature about this." Then she asked, "Does the ship have weapons?"

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. Sasha grinned.

T'Varik looked to Hrelle - who grinned in identical fashion.

*

USS Surefoot-A, Bridge, Stardate 45398.48 - 25 minutes until Ensign Sasha Hrelle's death:

It was an old ship, and an old design, dating back to before Kirk's day: tadpole-shaped, with bulky, down-swept nacelles and multiple ports to accommodate any type of station or ship docking facilities. Frankly, Hrelle was amazed that such models were still allowed to fly.

Still, they had run the usual security scans over it: it was intact, uninhabited, with no evidence of damage or attack, nothing suspicious, and as initially reported its main drive was deactivated, but the batteries were still almost on full charge.

Hrelle sat and sipped at his coffee, his tail swishing happily though the hole in the back of his chair as he listened proudly to his daughter over the speaker. "Away Team onboard, Ensign Sasha Hrelle reporting."

He grinned to himself; she had announced her rank three times already. "Proceed, Ensign."

"Sir, Mr Ostrow and Mr Kitirik are in Engineering, running diagnostics; Jonas believes the problem wasn't the main drive, but the dilithium regenerator panel, a common fault with Class-J vessels, according to him. He thinks he can get the Surefoot's fabricators to replicate a replacement."

"Hmph. The captain of the Eight of Swords is gonna be kicking himself when he hears that." He smiled again. "Or should I say, the former captain?"

He could almost hear her smile as she proceeded. "Mr Rrori and Ms Eydiir are on the Bridge, proceeding with pre-flight checks and uploading the flight recorder data to the Surefoot; you should be receiving it already."

Hrelle spun in his chair and looked behind him at the Second Officer, Lieutenant Neheru, a Kelpien who looked uncannily like a gangly scarecrow with a shrunken peach-coloured face. He reported, "Confirming receipt, Captain Sasha." At Hrelle's expression, Neheru grinned shamelessly.

"And Ms Nemm and I are proceeding to the Cargo Bay to check on the satellites. We're getting some tricorder readings from down there we weren't expecting."

"Acknowledged, Ensign. Surefoot out." A sound from the Tactical station drew his attention as he swivelled his chair around. "Lieutenant?"

His Chief of Security's tail was swishing from the hole in the back of her own chair, though Lt C'Rash's reaction seemed more from distraction than pleasure. The young black-furred female's brow was furrowed as she studied something on her panels, and she was growling to herself.

"Lieutenant?" he repeated. "Something wrong?"

"No. Yes. Yes, Sir, possibly. There are discrepancies with the End User certificates the Eight of Swords' captain filed with Starfleet Command and the Merchantfleet Authority. And there are mismatches with their logged flight plans and the flight recorder data we're receiving now."

"What sort of mismatches?"

"For one thing, the flight plans indicated they should have been in the Sierra Sector a month ago, but the recorder has them in the Maxia Sector, in Nekrosi territory."

Hrelle grunted, appreciating how seriously the young officer - and his niece by marriage to Kami - was taking her job. "Civilians aren't always the most meticulous record keepers-"

"It's more than that, Sir. I contacted the Bajoran Interior Ministry to update them on the status of the weather modification satellites they're expecting."

"And?"

"And... they have no record of expecting any."

Over the speaker, Sasha's voice returned. "Ensign Hrelle reporting: we're entering the Cargo Bay. It's a bit of a mess down here."

Behind Hrelle, Neheru spoke up, an alert to his face. "Captain, maybe Alpha Squad should stop what they're doing until we reassess the situation-"

"Captain!" C'Rash barked suddenly, anxiously. "There are arrest warrants out for the Eight of Swords captain and crew from the security at DS9, for suspected terrorist involvement-"

Hrelle threw aside his coffee and bolted to his feet. "Sasha! Don't do anything-"

Her scream filled the Bridge.

"SASHA!" He looked to Neheru. "Beam them back! Now!"

Neheru's fingers danced over his control panel. "I have a lock on the others, but there's interference around Sasha I can't identify-"

Hrelle's breath caught in his throat. "Sasha, report! Someone report, now!"

He heard shouts from his stepdaughter, and then Neraxis spoke up anxiously. "Captain, Sasha touched one of the satellites, it's- it's trapped her- she's been injured-"

"Trapped? Injured? How? Can you free her?"

"I'll try, Sir." After a few agonised seconds, filled with further cries and curses, Alpha Squad's Security Specialist reported, "Sir, some sort of wires from the satellite have pierced her arm, snaring her! Trying to free her is just making it worse-"

"Don't do anything further until we get there!" To Neheru he ordered, "Get T'Varik up here and update her, and send Dr Ling to Transporter Room 1!" He motioned for C'Rash to follow him off the Bridge, feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his furred chest.

His baby. His baby was hurt...

*

SS Eight of Swords, Stardate 45398.51 - 22 minutes until Ensign Sasha Hrelle's death:

Three figures beamed into a corridor outside of the transport's Cargo Bay and strode inside, finding the rest of Alpha Squad already assembled there, arguing until they acknowledged the new arrivals. Hrelle immediately looked past them to an open area, where a black, disc-shaped object with roundel panels sat on the floor - and Sasha knelt beside it, her right hand and forearm flat against the shiny surface, her face and scent suffused in pain. "Sasha? Are you okay?"

"No, Godammit!" she snapped. "I'm impaled on this thing! Now get me off it!"

"Stay calm!" Hrelle looked to Jonas Ostrow, the Deputy Squad Leader. "Report."

The boy's face looked pale even under his mop of silver-grey hair. "Sir, when Sasha touched the surface of that... device... monomolecular tritanium filaments shot out into her arm."

"Filaments?"

Neraxis nodded. "Yes, Sir. She was just resting her hand on it. I nearly did the same, and almost got caught, too."

"What is it, some sort of anti-tampering mechanism, or-"

"I don't think so, Sir," Jonas informed him. "I think it's something more akin to a clamping device. The filaments act like the roots of a plant, extending into a ship's hull, anchoring it more effectively and efficiently than a magnetic plate or tractor beam. But I don't know why weather modification satellites would need something like that-"

"They wouldn't. Doctor, Lieutenant: follow me. The rest of you stay here, touch nothing." Cautiously he approached, silent, as if his voice was swallowed up by the soft whine of the Security and Medical tricorders his offers carried and used, until he squatted beside Sasha. "Hey, Runt of the Litter."

"Hey, Fat Cat." She looked up, adjusting her legs slightly as if cramped, her face red and tearful with pain. "Some present you got me."

"Sorry; next time, I'll get you that pony you always wanted." He frowned at the sight of the almost-invisible wires extending up like hairs from the surface of the device and into her hand and forearm, piercing her skin and the sleeve of her uniform, looking as if she had been threaded onto the object by an old-fashioned sewing machine. Dots of blood appeared here and there, obviously from when she had initially struggled to free herself.

"Nobody else touch the surface," C'Rash warned, moving around the circumference of the object. "The entire dorsal side has the same anchoring mechanism."

Sasha nodded. "Suppose it could be worse. Can you imagine if I'd sat on it? Now I know what a fish on a hook feels like."

Ling knelt down, opened her medikit and withdrew a phaser scalpel. "Well, Ensign, let's see if we can get you released back into the sea..." She brought the tool to the space between the girl's arm and the object.

Until C'Rash snapped, "NO! DO NOTHING!"

Hrelle glanced up, his hackles rising at the look of terror in the young Caitian's expression. "What is it?"

C'Rash swallowed, switching off her tricorder, her voice low. "No signals, no scanners, no attempts to free her! This is not a satellite. It's a Nekrosi space mine. A mine with a subspace isolytic warhead." She looked around. "They all are."

"What?" Sasha squeaked. "Bullshit!"

"I wish it was. It explains why the crew just abandoned ship and fled rather than send a distress signal." She was staring at the object with more than a little fear. "What's worse... this mine thinks it's clamped onto a target, and it's armed. If we try to cut you loose or beam you away..."

Hrelle looked around as well; there were dozens more here.

He vaguely remembered an intelligence report month regarding the fall of the Nekrosi government, and consequent sales of much of their armaments and technology to criminals and non-aligned powers, but never expected to see anything from it this far across the Quadrant.

He bared his teeth at C'Rash. "And why didn't you detect that these were mines when we first arrived? What were you doing, licking yourself?"

She was visibly stung by his rebuke - not that he cared at that point - but recovered to reply, "The mines are sized and shaped very similarly to the satellites in question, Captain, Sir, probably the main reason they chose to label them as such, and the casings around the isolytic warheads shield them from everything but close-range scans. Maybe if you'd let me run a security sweep of the ship before giving it to my tailless cousin as an indulgent birthday present-"

"Are you blaming me for your error, Lieutenant-"

Then they both stopped as Sasha's breathing quickened, until Ling pressed a hypospray against the girl's neck, and she discernibly calmed down again. The doctor nodded to her. "A mild sedative; keep as still as you can." Then Ling looked up at the Caitians, her expression harsh. "Still, and free of unnecessary stress."

Hrelle felt himself blush under his fur, and glanced at C'Rash. "Sorry. Can you disarm it?"

"I can try." She slapped her combadge. "T'Varik, you there?"

"Of course, Lieutenant."

"Sasha is trapped against an armed Nekrosi mine, one of dozens onboard. I'm going to try and disarm the warhead, but you need to acknowledge that if it goes off, it'll set the others off as well, and the resulting explosion will rip into local subspace and make this area a no-warp zone."

"Acknowledged."

C'Rash looked back at Hrelle as she continued. "I'm also going to recommend withdrawing the Surefoot a minimum of ten kilometres; any closer, and a subspace explosion would rip through you even with full shields."

Hrelle nodded. "Do it, Commander."

"Aye, Sir."

"Also, beam me over an EOD Kit," C'Rash ordered, "Along with a communications headband tailored for my beautiful Caitian skull. I'll want it linked to the Holodeck; there's a good Demolitions Expert program in the library. I'll want it watching and assisting."

"Understood, Lieutenant. I will also have the Engineering and Science cadets and crew on hand there to offer any advice."

"Good, I could use it. Beam the equipment into the corridor outside this Cargo Bay, avoid any unnecessary energy signatures in the vicinity of the mines."

"Aye, Lieutenant. Do you require anything further?"

C'Rash smirked. "Only when this is done: a good long bath, and someone to groom my fur. Think you can handle that as well, Commander?"

"I will assume that you are being facetious to alleviate Ensign Hrelle's anxiety, and choose to not comment further. T'Varik out."

"Doctor, you and the other cadets go," Hrelle ordered, patting Sasha's shoulder as he rose. "I'll be right back."

"Okay," she quipped. "I'll just stay here."

He escorted Ling back to the rest of Alpha Squad. "You can't do anything more here, go back to the ship."

"Sir," Jonas protested. "I can assist Lt C'Rash, I've studied Nekrosi technology."

"And I've had EOD training as well," Neraxis pointed out.

"Sasha will need to have her vital signs monitored," Eydiir added.

The others spoke up as well, but Hrelle raised a hand for silence. "Thank you, but no."

As he heard a transporter whine from outside the Cargo Bay, Ling drew in close to him, her voice low. "Keep her from moving about as much as you can; right now, those filaments are doing nothing more than immobilising her arm, but if they extend into her chest, or worse, her head, they could interfere with her vital functions."

He nodded in acknowledgement - then frowned at the scent and sight of his wife entering, carrying the requested equipment. "Great Mother..."

"Thanks, that's quite a compliment."

"What are you doing here? You're pregnant!"

"Yes, I suspected something like that when I stopped being able to see my nethers." She looked past him to Sasha. "And how's she doing?"

"How's she doing? Are you kidding me?" To the others he snapped, "Get back to the ship, now!" To Kami, he added, "You, too!"

But the Counselor merely looked to them and said, "Go on, I'll catch up." As they departed, she asked, "Okay, let's try a simpler one: how are you doing, Esek?"