Surefoot 04: Sanction Ch. 02

"You want to tell me what happened?" Hrelle demanded softly.

"A counseling session with Sasha, by way of a K'Gresirr match." She winced again, resting her hand on her lap. "I called for K'Nuran, but then she got me with an illegal kick to my babymaker, before wrenching my tail and then finishing me off with a shot to the face."

"Son of a... what the hell happened to 'Leave this to be settled by the women'?"

Kami winced again. "It *was* settled. To be fair, I got a few illegal shots of my own first."

Just then T'Varik entered from an open doorway leading into the area of sickbay where the other beds sat, and patients could be treated with more privacy. "Cadet Hrelle has not been severely injured. She remains disturbingly sullen and unresponsive, however."

Hrelle growled, turning to the door. "She'll respond to me-"

"Esek, wait!" Kami winced again, clutching her lap. "Damn, that girl knows how to literally hit below the belt." Then she looked up at him. "We have to talk."

"After I've dealt with her-"

"No. Now." She breathed in, ignoring the doctor's continued ministrations. "Captain... after due reconsideration, I think that you should take her to Tau Beta."

Hrelle exchanged bemused expressions with T'Varik, before responding. "What? After all you said to me about letting the past rest-"

"That was my advice to you, and if it was just you, I'd stick to that advice. But Sasha isn't you. As a medical practitioner, I can confirm that not everybody responds the same way to the same treatment."

Dr Ling harrumphed at that and departed.

Kami continued. "It may involve the same criminal and the same crimes, but Sasha has a different set of life experiences to you. I... I think she needs this."

"I must admit to being disturbed by this assessment," T'Varik admitted. "The cadet requires continued counseling-"

"Which I will of course provide regardless - but it's not guaranteed that she will respond in a positive way. And there's a time factor involved now: it will take days to reach Tau Beta in time." She looked to Hrelle. "If it's missed, it will be an opportunity forever lost, and she may never forgive you for it."

Hrelle's stomach twisted into knots. "And you really want me to take her?"

"No. I really want her to see reason now and not have to put you through this. But we all know we don't always get what we really want. She is going to be affected by this, whether she attends the execution or not. And I have to reluctantly conclude that letting her go to this hellish thing will cause her less psychological and emotional damage than forbidding her." She touched her muzzle, moving it this way and that. "Regret for the things we do tends to be more repairable than regret for the things we don't do."

"I remain dubious about the argument," T'Varik commented. "But I will accept your counsel on this matter." She looked to Hrelle. "And though I acknowledge your initial unwillingness to attend, Captain, it would be logical for you to accompany her as her guardian. You did, after all, receive an invitation yourself."

"Yes," Kami agreed. "She'll want to go alone, knowing how you feel about it. Absolutely refuse that demand."

"Damn right I will." He looked to his first officer. "Make the necessary contacts to the Nist, do the admin work to sign us both off, and get Chief Grev to ready the Sureswift for an immediate launch."

T'Varik nodded. "I would strongly recommend another pilot accompany you, for safety and security reasons."

He nodded back, thinking for a moment before looking to the two women again. "I don't want to take a full crewmember away for so long. How about Giles? Do you think he would do it? They seem to be getting along together better now than at the start. I wouldn't order him to do it, of course, but..."

T'Varik considered the suggestion. "Normally I would expect to have him serve as Acting Squad Leader in Sasha's absence, but he does have the necessary practical qualifications, and they can both continue their studies together."

"Yes," Kami agreed. "It would be good for her to have a peer. As well as someone else to talk to." She looked rueful now. "I have a feeling it's going to be chillier than an Andorian winter onboard that shuttle for a while."

Hrelle believed her, turning and entering the other sickbay room, where Ling was running a final check on Sasha before leaving her with her stepfather. She sat there, dour, finding other things in the room to look at.

"I've changed my mind," he announced. "I'm taking you to Tau Beta."

Now Sasha looked at him, regarding him, as if checking to see if he was joking or not.

"We leave in an hour," he continued. "Bring civilian clothes; we can't attend this damned thing as representatives of Starfleet."

"I can go alone."

"That's not up to you."

"I don't need you with me-"

"YOU DON'T GET TO DICTATE TERMS HERE!"

She winced, drew back from him, looking as utterly shocked as he felt by his own outburst. Looking fearful, as she had never done before by him.

He wanted to apologise. He wanted to keep yelling at her. To shake her out of this and convince her how wrong this was. He wanted to crawl away in shame for scaring her like this, despite the circumstances.

Instead he forced himself to relax, to keep his following words on the level of a whisper. "And you'll apologise to both the Counselor and the Commander for your behaviour to them. And be thankful *we* weren't fighting. If you tried to sucker punch me the way you did Kami, Dr Ling would still be trying to wake you up."

He turned and departed, ignoring the looks from Kami, T'Varik and the others as he stormed out of Sickbay.

*

Somewhere Else, Six Years Ago:

Hrelle's slave cell pen was a stark, cold enclosure with floor mats, an open toilet and no privacy. Most of the thirty slaves slumped to the floor, tired, hungry and despondent. Peran, however, proceeded to the secret compartment in the floor near the corner where they hid things they had collected, notably horrible ration sticks they had saved for times such as this. "Here, some for everyone."

Hrelle had his back against a wall, looking at all of them, thinking about the failed attempt. Everything should have worked... they should have been on their way by now... but now he allowed himself to be distracted by the Bajoran. "I thought we agreed not to dip into our emergency rations without a vote."

Peran looked back, offering a slight smile. "My apologies, Captain. You are correct, of course. Should I take the food back while we carry out the proceedings?"

Beside Hrelle, the Klingon, Krihoq, watched with his one good eye, the other one an open socket that he had earned from the Breen months before, along with several smashed skull ridges, and snarled, "Bring me my ration stick, you ptakh, or I'll feast on your miserable bones."

Peran never looked back as he continued handing out the food. "You would find me poor sustenance, Klingon. Bajorans are held together with gristle, prayer and bad luck."

"Mostly bad luck, I hear." Nitreek sat as far away as she could from Krihoq as she accepted a stick. She was a frail-looking, pale, coal-haired woman of Uhlan rank, a former technician on a Romulan surveillance craft who survived its self-destruction when they were attacked by Orion raiders. Somehow, the girl had been sent here instead of being forced into sex work somewhere else; whether that was a fortunate mistake for her or not was not for Hrelle to say. "It's a wonder the Cardassians haven't exterminated your people outright."

Peran handed her a stick, unoffended. "But if they did that, who would they have to look down on?"

Hrelle exchanged glances with Peran as he accepted his own ration, the two of them almost smiling despite the circumstances. Hrelle once more thanked the Great Mother for having the man here; what he lacked in combat or technical skills, he more than compensated for with his counseling. And his nous. "Hold it, Monk." He split his own ration stick in two. "You seem to have miscounted. You forgot to take one for yourself."

Peran looked at the proffered half. "That's okay, Captain. I am fasting. It is a Bajoran religious holiday."

"Oh? Is it the Feast of Talking Crap? Eat, or I'll pin you down and feed you."

Opposite Nitreek, Raul Ortez, an older Terran male, a former officer with the Federation Merchant Marines, with receding grey hair and hangdog features, rose to stared at them in disbelief. "How can you just sit here, acting like nothing's happened?"

"We know what happened," Hrelle noted between bites. "We tried to escape, and failed."

"Yes, but why? The Breen suddenly had their brute squad surrounding us! Without warning! That was no coincidence!"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that the only way they could have shown up like that was if they were tipped off! Someone here betrayed us!"

The room held its breath, but everyone rose to their feet, looking to each other before Hrelle declared, "Your hunger's talking. And your disappointment."

"No," Nitreek disagreed warily. "He's right. We've watched them carefully, monitored their shifts, the arrival of the freighter, the change in work rotas and the security sweeps... everything was accounted for. Except betrayal."

"I refuse to believe it," Hrelle declared, shaking his head. One of them would betray the rest? Nonsense. "Maybe there was something we didn't account for? Maybe they've been secretly monitoring us, knew all along what we were going to do?"

"That is not their way, Captain." It was Yerpsek, a Yridian engineering specialist taken from one of his people's merchant craft. With his big ears and ubiquitously-wrinkled pink skin, he looked like a shaved rat soaked in vinegar and left in the sun too long to dry, but he maintained his people's reputation for furtiveness, as well as information gathering. "The Breen are as blunt and obvious as hammers. Their policy with regards to their slaves is not pro-active, just reactive."

"Exactly!" Ortez shouted, looking to the rest of the group, feeding their growing shock and anger. "Thanks to your poor leadership, Captain, we have a traitor among us, scuppering our plans!"

That drew more sounds of outrage. Hrelle glowered at the man; he had been in nominal command of this group before Hrelle had arrived, and always resented how the others voted the newcomer, with his size and Starfleet experience into leadership. Now, while he did his part to work towards their mutual freedom, still he always took every opportunity to erode Hrelle's standing among them. And this latest failure was a golden one for him.

"No!" Hrelle shouted them down, gaining their attention once more from sheer force of will. "Why in the Seven Hells would any of us damage our chances of escape?"

"Maybe there are those among us who are naturally inclined towards treachery?" Nitreek suggested, shooting a look at Krihoq.

The Klingon growled, baring his teeth.

"Stow it, you two." Hrelle continued to address the crowd; without their support, he would have no leadership, they would have no unity, and they would never get out of there alive. "This is about our mutual survival. Yerpsek, you're our Breen expert. Do they ever offer bribes or rewards to prisoners for information?"

"No, Captain. They are too assured of their ability to overcome any rebellion or escape attempt."

Now Hrelle focused on Ortez. "There, see? I'd love to hear what other possible reason someone here might sabotage our efforts."

Ortez was sullen and silent, as were the others. Hrelle was ready to dismiss such talk and begin planning for the next attempt.

Until someone did speak up. "There may be another reason, Captain."

Hrelle turned in place. "Peran?"

The Bajoran monk had his hands tucked into the tattered folds of his robes, his face worn and sad and regretful. "It may be because a member of your group had a vision. A vision from his Prophets. A vision that told him to stop the escape, as it was doomed to fail, resulting in the deaths of all."

No. No... "Peran... it can't be..."

"YOU, Monk?" Krihoq exclaimed, his one eye saucering. "You betrayed us?"

"I refuse to believe it," Nitreek frowned.

"That's because it's not true." Hrelle approached his friend warily. "You're covering for someone else, aren't you? You have to be."

But the look in Peran's tear-welled eyes told him otherwise. "No, Captain. This all falls upon me. As I stood distracting the Breen by the bay door, my mind cleared, and... and the Prophets spoke to me. It was not the first time; I remember them coming to me as a boy, guiding me to the people who would protect me and lead me off of my homeworld to escape the Cardassians.

And they returned to me today. They told me that if we entered the freighter and departed, it would have been blown to pieces within minutes because of a faulty baffle plate on their warp core. Now was not the time to try and escape. I couldn't get back to you to warn you, the plan was already in motion. So... I informed the Breen." He swallowed. "I am truly sorry, Captain. All of you. But I promise you, my vision was real."

Hrelle felt as if the Breen had stunned him again. "Why... Why did you have to say anything? You could have kept quiet-"

Peran smiled. "I am not one for hiding the truth, especially when it involves my faith. And if this was not settled now, it would have ripped this group to shreds."

"Hah!" Ortez crowed, turning to the others again. "So much for Starfleet's assurances about there being no traitor, eh?" As he cultivated more fury, the man looked more confident than Hrelle had ever seen him. "Your Bajoran friend condemned three of our fellow prisoners to death, and us to further servitude in this Purgatory! Now... what do you intend to do about it?"

Hrelle still stared at Peran, wanting to throttle him, wanting to shield him. He looked so regretful about the outcome of his sabotage, and yet still resolute that his act had been the correct one. Now he faced Ortez, growling, "What do you expect me to do?"

Cruel satisfaction marred Ortez's features. "That should be obvious. There's only one punishment for betrayal among us, Caitian."

"No!" At the protests from the others, he repeated, "No! We are not animals! We have to be better than our captors!"

"Well, that's not surprising!" Ortez addressed the crowd as well. "Of course he's going to protect his friend!" At the urging of the others, he faced Hrelle once more. "I say we call a vote! All those in favour of the Bajoran being killed for his crimes against us, raise your hand!"

So many hands rose. Nearly all of them.

Hrelle met all their expressions, silently pleading with them individually - Nitreek, Krihoq, James, Yerpsek, Al-Haq, Yung, O'Hanlen - but failing to reach them.

"I believe that's almost unanimous, Captain," Ortez sneered. "And as our leader, it falls upon you to deliver the sentence."

*

USS Surefoot, Deck 2, Alpha Squad Quarters:

Giles shifted in his place on the floor, silently avoiding Neraxis, sitting opposite him, teasing him once more by nudging his foot, as all of them continued to silently study the notes they collected for the latest Astrophysics exam. The group had been subdued after the incident in the holodeck; Giles hoped that the Commander, the Captain and the Counselor could sort things out.

Thoughts of family returned him to the visit he had from his aunt Lucille, captain of the Impala, who pursued him here to assign him the task of spying on Captain Hrelle and relaying any intelligence on an encrypted communicator she'd given him. He hadn't done it - yet - partly because he felt terrible about doing it, partly because... there was nothing to report.

Captain Hrelle was unconventional, of course, but he never did anything suspicious. What could he do? They were on a simple run around the Leonis Sector, delivering supplies and maintaining buoys. The ordinariness here outweighed any extraordinariness that could occur, and Aunt Lucille's claims that Captain Hrelle must have been some sort of undercover spy or criminal seemed outlandish.

The door to their quarters buzzed, waiting for Eydiir, sitting next to Jonas and appearing more sullen than usual, called out, "Enter."

The door slid open, and Captain Hrelle's large frame filled the doorway as Alpha Squad rose to their feet. "Apologies for the interruption, but may I speak with Mr Arrington privately?"

"Me, Sir?" Giles glanced at the others, before continuing with, "Of course. Where?"

The Caitian nodded to the door that led into the squad's bedroom, following the younger man inside and letting the door to it slide closed again. He glanced around the set of three bunk beds and the clothes and other possessions, his nostrils wrinkling in disgust. "Seven Hells, teenagers stink..." He shook his head. "Sorry. How are you and the others doing, Giles?"

"Us, Sir? We're, ah, we're okay."

"Good, good. This... business with the Nist has been upsetting, to say the least. Sasha did not take my forbidding her to attend very well." Hrelle frowned. "But I've since changed my mind, thanks mostly to the Counselor. We're hoping to leave in an hour. And Commander T'Varik has suggested that I bring another pilot along, to cover for me, and to mind the ship while we're at the Nist outpost. I was thinking you might be interested in the job?"

"Me, Sir?"

Hrelle nodded. "You have the experience, both with piloting and with spending long periods of time in a small environment - if I recall correctly, you once told me you went alone for eight days in your solar yacht around Beta Aquilae."

Giles paled, surprised that he would remember a detail like that. "Yes, Sir."

"Well, this is gonna be longer: five days there and five days back, with a few hours waiting for us. The Sureswift is better equipped than any solar yacht, with a replicator, sonic shower, entertainment unit, the works... and, if you accept this, you'll be in command of both the vessel and the mission."

"In command? Me? Why?"

"I don't expect you'll face any trouble with the Nist while we're at the outpost, but I want you to have the necessary credentials just in case. The time away from the Surefoot will count towards both your Command and Long Range Mission Academy credits, as well as earning actual time in service and pay. T'Varik is arranging for you and Sasha to keep up with your studies and take the Astrophysics exam remotely, so neither of you will fall behind." Hrelle then offered a smile. "And you'll be one of a select few to pilot a ship at a sustained Warp 9.5. And in a ship that small, you can almost feel the dilation of the space outside when you touch the viewport."

The thought of that was... enticing, Giles had to admit to himself.

"There will be a downside, however: chiefly being stuck onboard for something more than ten days. And... Sasha and I aren't on friendly terms at the moment. Hopefully we can come to terms with this, but... she could probably do to have someone around besides me." He smiled. "So could I. I might even bore you with a few stories of my time on the Furyk."

Giles smiled back. It sounded like an incredible opportunity for him, despite the circumstances. "I'd... be honoured, Sir."

Hrelle nodded. "Then you'd better pack. Report to Aft Shuttlebay at 1700 Hours and begin pre-flight checks on the Sureswift."

Giles straightened up. "Yes, Sir."

Then the Captain departed, leaving Giles staring out the door, before dropping to reach under his own bunk and collecting his case to pack.

"Giles?"

He looked up to see Eydiir, Jonas, Neraxis and Kitirik all crowding around the doorway, all obviously curious about the meeting leaving Eydiir to express it. "What was that about?"

He was flinging clothes, underwear, socks into his case. "The Captain and Sasha are going to the execution now. They need me as a co-pilot... well, actually the Mission Commander." He couldn't help but be excited over that.