Surefoot 22: Birthpains

Sasha took Kami's hand, holding her head and looking into the woman's eyes, the woman who had become a surrogate mother to her these past two years since boarding the Surefoot and marrying her Dad. "Everything's going to be fine."

Kami nodded weakly, baring her teeth at the latest contraction. "Your- Your father will be okay-"

"Yes," Sasha agreed, wanting desperately to believe it.

"He'll come back safe."

"Yes. Yes, he will."

"And then," Kami promised breathlessly. "Then I'm gonna kill him for not being here..."

*

"Admiral, Captain Hrelle's wife is currently giving birth. She is very concerned for his safety – as are we all. In addition, there is also our Chief of Security, and a fourth-year cadet who volunteered for this mission."

"I am aware of all this, Commander," Tattok reminded her from the viewscreen in the Ready Room. "I may not serve with them directly, but my concern for them is no less than yours, or anyone else's onboard the Surefoot."

"I did not intend to suggest otherwise, Admiral. Have you attempted to reach SI's contacts on Skaros?"

"We have. They... no longer appear available."

"Sir, request permission to take the Surefoot-"

"Denied."

"Admiral-"

"Commander, no Starfleet vessel or personnel is allowed in the Skaros system. Is that understood?"

T'Varik focused her mental disciplines as she replied, "Yes, Sir."

Tattok regarded her for a moment longer, before asking, "And how have the repairs to the Firetail proceeded?"

"Completed, Sir, apart from cosmetic damage to its hull."

"That's good; it is important that we assist non-Starfleet vessels such as they whenever we can. Towards that end, I have been in communication with the Fleet Captain of the Caitian Planetary Navy."

T'Varik raised an eyebrow. "Ma'Sala Shall?"

"Is there a problem, Commander?"

"No problem, Sir. Fleet Captain Shall is Counselor Hrelle's mother."

"Really? What a coincidence. Anyway, she and I have agreed that the Firetail requires a testing of the repaired systems following its recent brush with the Ferasans. You are now assigned to engage in an exercise to assist in this testing. You will follow behind it, wherever it might go, and measure its warpfield cohesion, energy signature, and so forth." He paused and added. "Wherever it might go. Is that understood?"

After a moment, she replied, "Yes, Sir."

"Coordinate with them. Tattok out." The screen went dark.

She took an interminable amount of time – 2.856 seconds – analysing the curious exchange with the Admiral, before touching her combadge. "T'Varik to Bridge: hail Captain Pnarun on the Firetail, and then inform the crew that we will be assisting our guests from Cait in an... exercise."

*

Dissak's estate, which contained his villa as well as his casino, was built on a wooded slope overlooking the city. Hrelle and C'Rash entered the club, both of them in matching black Caitian suits with gold trim. The interior was long, sprawling, dark but also gleaming and mesmerising with an array of lights and sounds from the single- and multi-player gambling machines, as well as tables where larger numbers of players collected to play a plethora of games from a score of different cultures.

They ignored these, however, to stride up to a set of private doors guarded by a pair of hulking Nausicaans, one of them nodding to the Caitians. "Private section, no admittance."

"That's okay," Hrelle assured them. "We're here to see Lur Dissak. He's expecting us."

"We know of no Lur Dissak," the second Nausicaan announced, "And he is not expecting anyone tonight."

Hrelle blinked. "I'll assume the contradictory statements are due to a Universal Translator malfunction rather than natural stupidity. But really, you or your wife here should go check with him-"

"Wife?" the first Nausicaan snarled. "I am Peergg's husband, not his wife! You have a problem with two males marrying, you bigot?"

"What? No, of course not-"

But before the argument could escalate, the doors behind the guards swung open, and a short, balding human with tight blonde curly hair and a narrow nose emerged. "It's okay, guys. Mr Dissak is in fact expecting them." He beckoned the Caitians. "My name is Martin Farro, Mr Dissak's personal assistant. Please, follow me."

They did, walking along a winding corridor – and a number of security scanners, transporter inhibitors and weapons detectors/deactivators built into the walls and floors – before emerging into an open area with huge windows that offered a magnificent view of the gleaming spires of the city below.

But even without the view, there was enough here to marvel at: plush furniture, artwork from a dozen different worlds on displays on walls or in glass cabinets, and beautiful people lounging around the host. "There he is!"

Hrelle controlled his reaction to the appearance and scent, knowing what to expect but still feeling his heart race. His experience with Orions had never – ever – been pleasant, and he was certain there were some of them out there in the Galaxy who weren't corrupt, unpleasant supporters of slavery and criminal activity. But he doubted it.

Even with this one, who seemed younger and smaller than most of his race, though his olive skin and bald head was typical enough, as was the thoroughly tasteless gold and crimson suit. He held out his arms as if to embrace the world. "At last! The Beast has arrived!"

Hrelle tensed further as the man approached, and it took all his effort not to pop out his claws – but fortunately the man did not embrace his guest, but instead stopped and declared, with abject adulation, "I can't believe it! He's here! He's actually here! My hero!"

"Your... hero?"

Dissak nodded, grinning with jewelled teeth. "You bet!" He glanced down at Hrelle's belly. "You're a little more... big-boned than when I last saw you, but there's still the same fire in your eyes! The same fierce power!" He looked to C'Rash now, but with a different sort of interest. "And who's this delightful creature?"

"Lt C'Rash, my niece, Chief of Security and bodyguard."

Dissak guffawed at that as he approached her, looking her over with open desire. "With a body like yours, you're the one who needs guarding." He reached out, took her hand and raised it to his lips to kiss it.

She pulled her hand away before that happened, however. "I can guard myself, thanks."

"Careful," Hrelle warned. "She bites."

Dissak laughed, recovering quickly as he returned to Hrelle. "Look at you! In the flesh!" Then he turned to a Klingon lurking in the background, pausing to introduce him. "And this is my Chief of Security. Well, Khersaq? Didn't I tell you? Isn't he something?"

The Klingon was tall, dark, young and full of attitude, sneering at Hrelle and responding with, "Yes, he is something: a fat, flabby joke. Is this really the mighty Beast you keep gushing about?"

"What?" The Orion practically gasped. "You've seen the videos! That Klingon's spine he'd snapped!" He looked back at Hrelle expectantly. "Do you remember that match? Huh? Do you?"

"No," he lied softly.

"No?" Dissak grinned and raced back to his desk, retrieving a remote and aiming it at a large screen over the fireplace. "You're in for a treat!"

The screen suddenly filled with an intense scene, in widescreen and full colour, of two figures in a fight to the death: a younger, thinner, scarred Hrelle grappling with a lean, bleeding Klingon.

"Yeah!" Dissak cried enthusiastically, balling his hands into fists and throwing punches in time with the action on the screen.

Hrelle looked away, and prompted a bemused C'Rash to do the same, not wanting her to see him like that, though at least he was handling it better than months before, when the Ferasans brought up his murderous past without warning. "Mr Dissak-"

"Wait!" the Orion pleaded, not taking his eyes off the scene overhead. "Wait for it- here it comes..."

CRACK!

The onscreen crowd roared, and Dissak joined them. "YES! That was awesome!" He turned off the screen and looked to the present Hrelle now. "How did it feel? You were fighting with him for over 36 minutes! I can't imagine doing anything for 36 minutes, and there you were, fighting to the death! That was a record for you! What motivated you?"

"Staying alive," Hrelle replied simply.

Dissak laughed at that. "Always the kidder! I owe you so much!"

"What do you mean?"

"I worked with the company that broadcast the matches throughout the Orion network; it's where I got a taste for information gathering and sales. And it's where I made a fortune off of your many victories, the stake I needed to set up my own business here." He practically danced around the open room. "This is all thanks to you, Beast!"

"Don't call me that."

Dissak ignored the response. "Come on, Beast! I want to show you off to my friends, get some images taken, have some drinks, talk about some of your favourite matches-"

Farro drew up to his employer. "Perhaps you can take them down to the nightclub, Mr Dissak? I have that merchandise to image for the auction tomorrow, and I don't want to disturb you."

"Excellent notion, Martin!" He beamed at Hrelle. "The drinks are on the house, as much as both of you want!"

"Mr Dissak-" Hrelle interrupted, softly but firmly.

"Call me Lur."

"Mr Dissak... we came for the information, to pay you and then leave. We're already overdue to return to our ship. I know you're a very busy man, so-"

The Orion frowned, glancing back at his chief of security. "Is it Khersaq? Are his insults getting to you?"

"Not at all." He spared a glance at the Klingon. "I don't care what he has to say; his opinion isn't worth the shit under my boots. I just didn't come here to drink and reminisce with you."

The room seemed to hold his breath, waiting for the response from the man who obviously was unaccustomed to being refused anything. Until he smiled, equally taut, and replied, "Maybe not. But if you want to know what the Cardassians know... you will now."

*

On the Surefoot bridge, T'Varik sat in the Captain's chair, the cadets of Alpha Squad at their various stations and attentive to their duties as she proceeded. "Helm, maintain our present distance from the Firetail, matching their vectors as best you can. Science Station, monitor their energy emissions. Engineering, compare the Firetail's engine performance with our own; I would like a report compiled with recommendations as to any improvements we might implement."

"Commander," Lt Neheru said from Ops, taking the place of the absent Sasha. "I am compelled to inform you that we are on approach to the outer perimeter of the Skaros system."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

After a moment, the bemused Kelpien continued. "Commander, standing orders are clear about entering the Skarosian system-"

She turned in her chair to face him. "Lieutenant, I do not believe anyone said anything about entering the system. We are assisting the Firetail with a number of diagnostic tests; that is all." Then she faced forward again. "Tactical... while we do this, I wish to test our passive scanning systems. Can you access the recorded energy signature of the Caitian warp shuttle employed by Captain Hrelle and his party?"

At her station, Neraxis frowned, her bald blue head creasing with confusion. "The energy signature? Sure, Commander, but why?"

"I want you to run passive scans on the system for its signature. Passive, I must stress again, not active, as that could be perceived as an aggressive action towards the Skarosian Empire. Am I clear?"

The Bolian grinned. "Yeah, I think so, Commander."

"And Lieutenant Neheru: monitor the Skarosian communications traffic. Passively, of course. Report anything unusual."

Neheru started to enquire further, but then simply gave up and replied, "Yes, Ma'am."

*

Dissak's casino had a bar and a nightclub section, the latter a pounding assault on the senses: lights and noise and heat and scent, as the young and wealthy, both native Skarosians and offworlders of many races, came to dance, drink, and ingest substances that would be illegal outside of this system.

And Hrelle endured an interminable number of opportunities to have Dissak introduce him to nameless acquaintances who had no idea who the Caitian was or why they should be so pleased to have this exceptional honour – but who knew better than to risk offending their host.

At some point, Hrelle excused himself to step outside for some air, staring up at a tiny white moon with the blue and green streaks across it. He pressed his forefinger against his right cheek and held it there; after returning to the hotel and repairing the damage given to him in the Skarosian jail, he had implanted another dermal communicator. "Mr Rrori?"

Seconds later, a familiar male voice vibrated near his right ear. "Captain? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, just checking in. We're with Dissak now, and we're hoping to conclude negotiations shortly. Once he's cleared Air Traffic Control for your approach, we'll send you the coordinates."

"Understood, Sir."

After a moment, Hrelle asked, "Have we- has any messages been received? Or have you been able to-"

"Sorry, Sir, but the Skarosians are still flooding subspace."

"Acknowledged. Hrelle out."

"Well, that's clever. Nice undercover work there, Fat Boy."

He didn't turn to face his Security Chief approach. "I knew there was no one else around, Lieutenant. I'm not that old and feeble."

C'Rash drew up to him. "I knew I should have come alone."

"Are you forgetting Dissak asked for me? I'm The Beast, not you. The only thing beastly about you is your attitude."

"That Orion is a freak," she declared, "He makes my fur stand on end. If he wasn't so valuable to Starfleet-"

"Why should that make a difference? He's not an undercover operative pretending to be a criminal, he is a criminal. And he's allowed to continue to be a criminal with impunity because he might be useful to us. What does that make us?"

She grunted, but then continued with, "Still, it must be quite the ego stroke for you."

He glanced at her. "Excuse me?"

She smirked now, staring up at the stars. "Come on, Jumbo, your Number One Fan brings you down here to relive your Glory Days, it must put some tightness in your boxers-"

She never saw him draw up to her face until their snouts were almost touching, and she felt his hot breath on her, His gaze was dark and narrow in the light from the building, teeth bared as he snarled, "You know this cute little act you do where you insult me and I put you on the nearest Naughty Step? It stopped being cute a long time ago. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of you-"

"What treachery are you planning out here?"

The Caitians turned and faced Khersaq, standing at the entrance, scowling. Hrelle grunted. "No treachery. Just a family argument. Like all the ones your parents used to have about whether they should feed you to the family targ, or just put you in a sack and throw you in the nearest river."

The Klingon cursed him. "I would disembowel you, but the shame of killing such a bloated monstrosity would sully my family honour!"

C'Rash drew up between them, baring her claws and fangs. "Back off, petaQ!"

Khersaq laughed. "Your little kitty cat is most loyal. Does she always fight your battles?"

Hrelle forcibly moved her away to face him again. "I don't need her to kick your ass back to Qonos; you're just not worth the effort. Now, we're going back inside, and we're telling your Master that we're done stroking off down here, and that we're going back up and completing this exchange. If he doesn't want to do that, then the deal is off and we're going home. Now, are you gonna step aside, or are you gonna find out what this bloated monstrosity can do to you?"

The Klingon growled at him – but then smirked and stepped aside. "Yes! The sooner you're gone, the better!"

They re-entered the premises, eventually finding and convincing a reluctant Dissak to finally get down to business. They were ascending along a private passage back to Dissak's quarters above, when Hrelle caught a sound and scent that made him stop and stare at another set of stairs leading downwards again, opposite them.

His halt drew the others' attention, the Orion asking, "Is there something wrong, Captain?"

"Yes," he admitted, sounded embarrassed. "I think I had too many of those Rigellian canapés in the club. My stomach's gonna have a warp core breach." He clutched his belly and belched. "Sorry. Where's the toilet?"

Khersaq made a mocking sound, but Dissak smiled and nodded. "Back the way we came, first door on the left. Shall we wait?"

"No, send the clearance and coordinates to our ship, C'Rash can verify and collect the data. I, ah, might be a while." He belched again, covering his mouth. "Sorry!"

The others turned and continued towards the main room, the Klingon sparing him a final look of contempt before following. Hrelle stopped pretending to be gaseous, and snuck across to the opposite stairwell, following it down – not towards the nightclub as he expected, but one where the sounds and scents he had picked up grew stronger, before he reached a door and quietly opened it.

And looked into a nightmare.

*

Sasha had been steeling herself for the worst. She had heard numerous horror stories about childbirth, for several races. Of them all, the one she dreaded the most was the notion that the expectant mother might poop during the birthing process, because apparently the same muscles down there were being used, and she really didn't know how she could face Kami afterwards if Sasha witnessed that.

But so far, everything seemed to be going fine. She held Kami's hand, assuring her, "You're doing brilliant! You're-" She gasped as Kami's grip tightened, the woman in obvious and intense pain.

As if in illustration, one of the lights on the biobed monitor overhead went on alert. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

Dr Shalom looked agitated. "One of the cubs' claws has snagged on the cord, causing an internal laceration- it's caught, there's distress- Seven Hells-" Louder now, she shouted out, "Doctor Ling, we need a surgical kit in here! Stat!"

*

It was a windowless room, with barely any ventilation and the only light from portable units standing in one corner, around a set of holocameras. There were mattresses, and a toilet, and emptied cartons of food and drink.

And children. Collared, frightened children.

There was fourteen of them, aged between four and, Hrelle guessed, twelve, of many races: human, Vulcan, Tellarite, Rigellian, Andorian, Denoublian and Trill. They were dressed in various types of sleepwear, though they didn't look as if they had had much sleep lately. Their collective scents had reminded him of those times he'd visited Sasha's classroom back on Station Salem Four years ago to give them presentations on safety and exploration.

Except here, fear and despair suffused the air here.

Most of them were huddled together in one darkened corner, while in another, the one with the lights and cameras, Dissak's PA Farro was on one knee in front of a young human girl in a nightdress, with blonde hair and a tearful expression.

One of the children in the group saw Hrelle and gasped – stopping when the Caitian brought a silencing finger up to his nose as he quietly approached Farro, who remained focused on the girl in front of him. "It's okay, Libby, you can do it. Give us a smile for the cameras. We don't want your new parents to think that you're not a happy little girl, do we?" When she continued to make weeping sounds, he added more sternly, "Do I need to get Mr Khersaq to come down here and punish you again?"