Surefoot 22: Birthpains

And as they recounted the events, and relived them, some began to cry. And Hrelle would pick them up and put them in his arms, holding them and assuring them that everything was going to be okay now.

And he watched C'Rash, a mix of emotions on her own face as she tried to help the children, being a surrogate big sister – but occasionally glancing at him with a curious – and fearful? – expression. He suspected he knew the reason why, but now wasn't the time for discussing it with her.

Just before the five hours had passed, Rrori called back, "Sir! Come up here, now please!"

Reluctantly he set the sleeping child down on the floor with the others and proceeded. "What is it, Cadet?"

He nodded. "We have Skarosian patrols coming in! I think that cloaking device we don't have might have burned out or something!"

Hrelle took his seat again, keying in the subspace communicator commands to flood all local channels. "Time to blast some Bowie..." Seconds later, the flight deck, and the surrounding subspace, filled with the sounds of musical instruments, and a familiar, charismatic voice declaring, "Let's dance / Put on your red shoes and dance the blues..."

C'Rash joined them on the flight deck. "Are you playing that idiotic music again?"

"Do you want your furry ass kicked, Lieutenant? Because knocking Bowie – my best mate – is how you get your ass kicked." To Rrori he ordered, "Now's the time to take evasive action." He turned and ordered, "Computer: Deactivate Prowl, divert all power to engines and shields." He pulled up a tactical display of the pursuing Skarosian patrol vessels. "Mr Rrori, plot a course along... here..."

The younger Caitian frowned at that. "That will allow them to group together, form a more effective attack pattern. And unless we have some weapons to go with the cloaking device we don't have-"

"Lt C'Rash, is the trilithium still secure in the hold?"

"Yes, Sir, but-"

"Detach the transporter inhibitor from its casing, and on my command, beam it out to..." He paused and called up a new reading. "These coordinates."

"You're just dumping the trilithium?"

"Well, it's too volatile to keep onboard with all these dangerous moves we're making, especially with a ship full of cubs. We have to get rid of it, for Health and Safety reasons."

C'Rash stared at him in disbelief – then got it. "On my way, Sir!" Moments later, she called back to them. "Ready, Sir!"

"On my mark," he replied calmly, "Ready... steady...NOW!"

Hrelle brought up a rear tactical display, saw the three Skarosian patrol vessels as floating circles like fireflies.

Then one firefly seemingly went nova, its shockwaves catching the other two in its explosive wake.

"It worked!" Rrori exclaimed needlessly.

"Yes," Hrelle replied simply. "Now, let's get back on that direct course again. And keep an eye out for any Bowie fans out here."

*

"Explosion detected inside the Oort Belt of the system!" Neraxis announced loudly. "Trilithium-based!"

Neheru gripped the arms of the Captain's chair. "Scan that immediate area."

Seconds later, Eydiir, who had taken Neheru's place at Ops, reported, "I'm getting a subspace signal, audio only."

"Let's hear it."

The Bridge filled with a familiar song and voice: "If you say run, I'll run with you / And if you say hide, we'll hide..."

"It's the Captain!" Jonas Ostrow declared from Engineering, grinning.

"It does not sound like him," Neheru quipped, smirking to himself at his little joke. "Contact the Firetail and inform them... of the source of the music, and ask them if they want to help us investigate that area."

*

The children had fallen back asleep again; Hrelle, sitting in a nearby chair, wished he could have replicated some fresh clothes for himself, and felt like doing the same, attributing it to the subtle vibrations of their ship moving at high warp.

C'Rash joined him, bringing with her a steaming mug of raktajino from the replicator, and took a seat opposite him. "You want one, Sir?"

He shook his head, talking softly. "I never asked you if you obtained the information from Dissak."

She nodded. "The Cardassians are looking at Starbase 220, Banaris Sector."

He frowned. "That... doesn't make any sense. It's certainly important, it has a major port and shipyard, but it's a hundred light-years away from the Border. There's no way a Cardassian invasion could reach it without being intercepted by Starfleet along the way."

"Maybe they'll be equipping a terrorist attack, to strike from within? Dissak seemed sincere enough about it, and the data appeared genuine. Unless the Cardassians paid him to feed us false information? I wouldn't put it past them."

"Then they should have picked a more plausible location for a false flag operation." He shrugged. "Ah well, that's for Starfleet Intelligence to worry about. Not us."

She nodded, the mug in her hands drunk of its warmth if not its contents. Finally, awkwardly, she commented, "You pulled quite a number on Dissak and his men back there."

He stared back at her soberly. "I didn't 'pull a number'. I killed thirty-eight people. Maybe more, if there were people in the buildings I razed.

And in answer to your other, inevitable questions: Yes, I know what I did. Yes, that was my Beast you saw. Yes, their deaths will cling to my conscience for the rest of my life, like all the others still do." He leaned forward, took her mug and sipped at the Klingon coffee, wincing at the bitterness. "And yes, I would do it all over again if I had to."

He looked to the children. "I could say that I was simply taking all steps necessary to protect the lives of Federation citizens and my crew. And it'd be true. But it wouldn't be the whole truth. I enjoyed killing all those men. Because I knew what they would have done to these cubs. Because I know what was done to me."

He looked back at C'Rash. "You joked tonight about my reliving my 'Glory Days'."

Her expression narrowed with embarrassment. "Captain, I-"

"Let me tell you about those 'Glory Days'. I had already been tortured, mutilated and broken by the time I was sold to the Orion Matchmaster Surinh Dag. But I still had something like pride left in me then. Because I thought that after a year working in a Breen asteroid mine I could face anything.

I was wrong.

Even as my new master built up my body, addicted me to aggression drugs and put pain implants in me, he stripped away my decency. All thoughts about reverence for life and mercy and compassion were forcibly ripped from me, and in the effort to stay alive, to survive and just not stop feeling pain... I let it happen. I embraced the Beast, because it gave me the illusion of power and strength and control over my own life.

I have had time, and life, and soul, taken from me, and molded and forged to make the Beast, and I will never get rid of him." He paused while he drank again. "But... If I can't get rid of him, I can at least use him for good."

Then he quickly set aside the mug as pain gripped him.

C'Rash leaned forward. "Sir- what's wrong-"

He shushed her, but urged breathlessly. "Medical kit- 100 milligrams- metrazene- hurry-"

Quickly she rose and complied, preparing a hypospray and administering the drug to his neck on his order. Moments later, he leaned back in his chair, looking visibly relieved as he whispered, "Thanks."

"What in the Seven Hells was that about?"

He didn't answer immediately, either to gather his strength or out of general reluctance. "Heart arrhythmia; my ticker has taken a lot of punishment over the years." He patted his belly. "All the shuris snacks I've downed since coming back from slavery haven't helped, I'm sure."

"Does Aunt Kami know?"

"No." He looked up at her. "Nor will she, is that understood? She has more important things to focus on now." He rose to his feet, swaying a little until she caught him by the arm. "I'm working on it myself, trying to lose some of this weight-"

"Try harder," she urged. "There's too many people who need you. Myself included, you fat bastard." Then she amended, "I mean, Sir."

He looked at her and smiled.

Then Rrori called back to them from the flight deck. "Sir! We're exiting the system, and the Surefoot and Firetail are waiting for us! And they wanted you to know that the Counselor went into labour several hours ago!"

He beamed. "She did?" Then the smile dropped. "SHE DID? Oh damn, I think I need more metrazene. Damn. Damn, shit, damn, piss, fu-" Then, when he saw that some of the children had woken up and were listening, he turned to them, raised a finger and added, "-Are just some of the words you shouldn't use in polite company."

*

Hrelle felt a little guilty leaving C'Rash and Rrori to dock with the Surefoot to seeing to the disembarkation of the rescued children, while he was beamed directly to Sickbay. That guilt vanished like water on the sun as he moved to the rear of the Suite, catching scents both familiar – Kami, Sasha, T'Varik, Dr Ling – and unfamiliar. "Kami? Kami, darling, I'm so, so sorry-"

"Shush," she scolded him, looking tired but still smiling, the bundle in her arms resting against her chest. "You'll wake your son."

He stopped and stared in utter wonder and disbelief. Nearby, Dr Shalom noted, "There had been complications, and we had to perform local surgery, but everything went perfectly well, mother and cub are fine and..." She smiled. "And you're not listening to a word I'm saying."

Hrelle drew closer, feeling Sasha's hand on his shoulder as he leaned against the side of the biobed, reaching up and touching Kami's cheek, softly repeating, "I'm sorry-"

She smiled – but then sniffed and frowned, alarm crossing her features as she sensed the change in his feelings, the one he was desperate to suppress and not let spoil this wonderful moment. "What happened? What did you do?"

"We... we found some children... they were..." He blinked and turned his head slightly. "Commander, the SS Beltane was the victim of an Orion slaver raid. They abducted fourteen children. We found them on Skaros. Their families need to be contacted, right away. Top Priority."

"I will deal with it immediately, Sir," the Vulcan promised, departing.

Kami smiled again. "Well? Aren't you going to pick him up? My arms are tired."

Hrelle grinned and reached out, slowly, carefully easing his hands under his son's head and back. Misha Hrelle's fur was immensely fine, and coloured mahogany, his ears pointed and his cheeks chubby. His eyes were closed, but his little tail and dark nose at the tip of a stubby snout twitched as his father drew him closer, letting the infant cub rest against his chest as he breathed in the new scent. "Hello, my little Warrior Prince. It's your Dad here."

Misha began purring.

Hrelle began weeping with pure, unbridled joy.

*

"USS Surefoot-A, Captain's Log, Stardate 47451.8, Captain Esek Hrelle, commanding: the next of kin of the children we found on Skaros have been contacted, and Starfleet vessels are now coordinating to provide escorts for the children to be returned to their families at utmost speed. I wish to commend the actions and maturity of Master Sevrik, whose assistance with his fellow captives was paramount in their rescue from captivity. He is a credit to his family. They all are. And I hope they will be able to put this terrible experience behind them and go on to lead the lives they deserve.

Starfleet Intelligence has questioned my actions in killing Lur Dissak, a potential source of information for them on Skaros, but they're not too vocal in their protests, given Dissak's other activities. I don't give a damn what they think – and I want that in the official record.

Besides, I have other concerns now..."

*

"Go on, T'Varik. You're his godmother. Take him for a while, he needs to recognise your scent if you're gonna be babysitting him for us."

The Vulcan eyed Kami, since released from Sickbay and back on her feet. "I... would not wish to disturb him if he's sleeping."

Sasha, sitting nearby, grinned. "Are you scared to pick him up, Commander?"

"I will not dignify that with a reply, Ensign."

"And yet you just did."

"Go on, T'Varik," Hrelle urged, smiling too.

The Vulcan finally reached out and accepted the bundle, carefully moving Misha to lie against her right breast, his head resting on her shoulder, her hand supporting his rear, one thumb curled against the base of his tail. "He is surprisingly heavy for his size."

"Are you saying my cub's fat?" Kami teased. "Blame that on all the male genes on both sides."

"He is purring," T'Varik also noted. "It is a rather... hypnotic sensation." She frowned slightly. "Oh."

"'Oh'?" Kami frowned too. "What's wrong? What is it?"

"Nothing is wrong. He appears to have an erection."

Sasha laughed. "Seriously? At that age?"

"It's not uncommon," Kami pointed out to the girl. "Especially if he's the product of your father's Amazing Sperm."

"Eeeuww."

"That's my cub!" Hrelle declared, grinning.

*

EPILOGUE:

Imperial Palace, Planet Skaros:

The conference room in the Imperial Palace was sealed for the meeting: a half-dozen men and women from as many races, sat around the polished stone hexagonal table, the furnishings simple, archaic, but the devices they held and read from modern.

At one side of the table, facing the tall twin doors, an older pale human of advanced years, lean and with straw-coloured hair and beard and in a plain black suit, stared at the holographic footage conjured at the centre of the table, images of the chaos at Dissak's estate. "How dreadful, Lur. We are frankly amazed that you survived. It is most fortunate."

Sitting across from him, Dissak gripped the edge of the table with his good hand. The right side of his head was encased in a silver-grey dermal regenerative mesh, and the anger and horror reflected well enough from his one good eye. "Fortunate? You call this fortunate?" He pointed to his damaged parts.

"Of course, Orion," pointed out an older Andorian with a drooping antenna. "Don't you believe it fortunate that you survived to tell your friends about what happened?"

Dissak grunted, looking around sourly. "'Friends'. Friends would not have allowed such a vicious and unprovoked attack like this to take place in the first place-"

"Mister Dissak," said the bearded human, "Do you really wish to continue with this pointless deception?" He reached out and froze one image on the screen, that of a Caitian male, his arm around a guard's neck.

"Deception?" Dissak echoed. "Mr Giger, I- I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Please," the man cut in, green eyes narrowing, "Spare yourself some small measure of dignity. Do you think that anything gets past the Bel-Zon? Do you think we did not have operatives of our own working in your employ, monitoring your activities? Do you think we could not access your computer to run audit trails?"

He leaned in, peering through the holoimage, as if seeing Dissak through the Caitian's eyes. "We know you contacted Starfleet to sell them back the information you sold the Obsidian Order. You did this without the sanction of the Hexad. Presumably so as to keep all the profits to yourself, rather than provide the required tithe to us."

Dissak began to sweat. "N-No, Simon- Mr Giger- my assistant- he should have provided the paperwork to you-"

"You are a part of this Hexad," a thin, scarred Tellarite reminded him, black beady eyes fixed with scorn on him. "Or at least, you were."

"It was part and parcel of the agreement the six of us reached when we formed the Hexad and rebuilt the Bel-Zon here," Giger added. "All of our activities are cleared by the group, to prevent surprises such as what you experienced, and a portion of all profits made are fed back into our treasury. You failed in both. As a result, the local Skarosian government became most concerned about offworlder activity, especially with the loss of three patrol vessels at the edge of the system. The cost of damage control was most considerable."

"We got a sweet deal going on here, Dissak," a fat Bolian sneered. "Holy Hraxor, we have our own bloody moon to cultivate Vraxoin! You think we could get away with that in Federation territory?"

"Then there's the children," growled a Klingon woman with a wicked scar running down the right side of her face from her cranial ridges. "Federation children you secretly purchased from the Orion Markets and brought here to sell again! You thieving petaQ, I manage the Sentient Trafficking for the Bel-Zon!"

"N-No, Mvulkoh, they were- they were for my own personal use-"

"More lies," the Andorian glowered. "We found the recording equipment in your lower levels, the arrangements for the secret auction."

"And as if all of that was not heinous enough," Giger continued, rising to his feet, and pointing at the image of the Caitian in front of them all. "You brought this man to our doorstep, made him aware of our presence here."

Dissak paled a light green. "Esek Hrelle? The Beast? So what?"

Giger glared hard as he leaned forward, hands flat on the stone table. "When my late brother Alexander ran the previous incarnation of the Bel-Zon, Captain Esek Hrelle was the target of a Vendetta Contract taken out by one of your people; that is how Hrelle ended up a slave, a fighter, your so-called Beast."

Then he straightened up. "Since his escape from captivity, we have chosen to focus on building our organisation on Skaros, and to keeping an eye on him – thanks to an operative we have on the Surefoot. Now, thanks to your actions, we might have to finish him off before he becomes wise to us-"

A warning beep from Giger's PADD made him look to the others. "He's on his way here."

The six of them rose and walked to the centre of the room facing the tall twin doors, dropping to one knee. The doors were pushed open, and a dozen huge armed and armoured Skarosians entered, flanking out wide and allowing a single small figure to enter, preceding by crawling supplicants who quickly and efficiently laid out special carpeted panels so the figure's divine feet would not to touch the same floor as mere mortals.

The figure itself was short, hairless, with wide round eyes and the scaled, segmented face of his people, and blue and yellow silk clothes that swished softly as he walked, stopping before the six figures in the room.

Giger knew to keep his head bowed. "Imperium! You grace us with your presence once again! Thank you for this honour!"

Sonoda, the Imperium, the Living God and Light and Life of Skaros, regarded him. "You may look at me."

Giger raised his head, smiling politely. "And how are you today, Your Excellency?"

Sonoda offered a broad smile, and a hint of the twelve-year-old boy behind the divine title. "I used that Klingon blade you got me! I used it on a prisoner, a fat man, and the blade went right into his gut! And when I pulled it out again, the curved bits on the blade pulled out some of his intestines!"

Giger chuckled broadly, deliberately. "Excellent, Imperium! I wish I'd been there to witness it!"

Sonoda nodded eagerly. "He had said bad things about me. He won't be doing that again."

"He most certainly will not. All those who disrespect you should suffer like that-"

"What have you got me today?" the boy asked expectantly.

Giger smiled and nodded to Thyluk, who rose and collected a brown box, returning with it as Giger explained, "This is a very special and rare weapon." He opened the box and drew from it a black and silver L-shaped weapon. "A Varon-T Disruptor. The beam it fires tears apart an object at the molecular level, slowly and, I am told, most painfully."