(Author's Note: this is a Surefoot Christmas Special, taking place some months after the end of the last one,
Mother's Cub
, so the next one you read,
My Summer on Vulcan
, will take place between
Mother's Cub
and this one. Maybe a few others. But this one is still canon, and what is revealed here will have a sizable impact in the future. Confused? Just have some hot cocoa, put your feet up and enjoy!
And please accept my most sincere thanks to all of you, for your reading my stories, your support, and your comments over the years! They mean more to me than anything I can put into mere words...)
"Captain's Log, Stardate 50018.12, Captain Esek Hrelle, Commanding: We have commenced our Away Mission as per Admiral Tattok's authorisation, and have begun collecting the cargo and personnel from each of the appropriate ships in the Thirteenth Fleet. The shuttles we're employing are on Silent Running, keeping energy signatures and communications to a minimum so as to avoid detection. Commander T'Varik has assured me that our success probabilities are at 96.7% given known parameters.
I wish I had her confidence. Though I have been on duty for some time, performing my assigned tasks as well as mentoring the latest group of cadets to board, this feels like my first real mission since my recovery from... what happened to me.
My CMO assures me there are no problems with my neural reconfiguration, my Counselor, Wife and Better Half has helped me face the anger and guilt from being a victim of attempted murder, my niece and Chief of Security is keeping me on my diet and exercise regimen, Captains from the rest of the Fleet have sent messages of support, and even my best buddy Weynik has been visiting, helping me relearn many of the fighting skills I seem to have lost following my surgery... and teasing me about money I allegedly owed him but have since forgot about.
But I'm feeling... feeling like a cub fresh out of the Academy and getting his tail wet on his first mission, rather than what I really am: some old cat with over thirty years in Starfleet.
Well, not exactly
old
. Maybe late middle aged.
Early to late-"
"What are you doing?"
He started, mentally kicking himself for not hearing the cockpit door slide open and his wife enter. He turned in his seat to frown at her, waiting for the door to slide shut again before protesting. "It's rude to interrupt a Captain when he's working on his Log."
Kami stopped and stared at him, her eyes saying everything.
He glared at her defiantly. "Yes, I just realised how that sounded out loud. How's the cargo?"
"Fine. The transport from the ships was successful, there's been no disturbances." She drew up into the co-pilot's seat, feeding her tail into the hole in the back and looking out the cockpit window. "How long now?"
He could already instinctively tell, just from looking at the planet that was rapidly growing in the centre of the starscape. But he checked the navigation panel anyway. "Twenty minutes. Why?"
She smiled at him. "Oh, I don't know. I thought you might like to go back into the sleeping quarters and fool around a little before we arrive and go to work."
"What? Are you crazy? With what we've got back there, and Klingons in the neighbouring sector threatening to cross over-"
She raised a finger to her snout and made a shushing sound. "Calm down, Sugartail, I was just teasing. Look at you, your tail's twitching like it was on fire, and not because of the thought of a Bumper Call! What's wrong with you?"
"Nothing," he lied, pretending to be distracted by something on a panel in front of him, while he focused on calming his tail, before he spoke again. "Kami, will you be honest with me?"
She lowered her hand. "You
are
kidding, aren't you?" Then she asked, more softly, "I will
always
be honest with you, Husband of Mine. What is it?"
He breathed in, amazed at his reluctance to open up to his own wife even after all this time. "Have I changed since my brain was reconfigured?"
She seemed to consider the question, even though she always appeared to know the answer. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Esek, but: yes, you have." She rose and knelt beside his seat, taking his hand in hers. "Those pesky little Nanites rummaged around in that cluttered attic inside your skull, rearranged things here and there... and took away a part of you that you thought that you needed, but one that you didn't like.
Having the Beast in there was like having a gun in our house. You convinced yourself that it was safe, that you would only ever take it out and use it when it was needed. And I know the Beast served you well, and I defended his existence to others...
But he scared me, Esek, having him in there with the kind, gentle, loving man I married. And, like an actual weapon, there was always the possibility of a terrible accident happening.
I'm glad he's dead.
And though you lost most of your fighting skills as a result, you also lost the horrible memories behind how you
gained
those skills."
She tightened her hold on him. "I see other changes in you too, and they're not bad things. You've stopped drinking coffee, for one."
He grunted. "Can you blame me? The last coffee I had was a literal killer."
"And you've thrown away all of your Secret Snacks -- even the ones you think I didn't know about -- and are genuinely focusing on your diet and exercise."
He shrugged. "I'd asked Doc Masterson to give me some treatments to quicken the process, but he refused."
She nodded. "And I agreed; it's standard procedure to encourage patients to work for the weight reduction the hard way; it takes longer, but it's more likely to stay off and is emotionally more satisfying. Did I leave anything out?"
He pretended to consider the question, though he already had the answer. "I feel... cold. It runs through me every so often, like I was back in the Archipelago in the dead of winter, a cold that runs through your fur and into your bones. Or maybe those times I ended up in space, without a suit. I find myself shivering, for no good reason. The Doc says my brain's temperature regulation is working fine but-"
"Feeling cold is more than just about feeling a lower temperature," she informed him. "For many, cold represents bleakness, vulnerability, uncertainty. And, as you have just pointed out yourself, it represents your childhood home, where your surgery has had the unexpected side effect of releasing some early, potent memories you haven't recalled in decades." She raised his hand and placed it on the side of her neck as she purred, her vibrations reaching up to travel through the rest of him. "But you know, I can warm you up without our leaving the cockpit, Sugartail."
"Hmm?"
She drew his thumb close to her mouth. "Mmmm... cockpit... I'm sure that word has a very innocent origin... but right now..."
The tip of her tongue darted out and drew around the tip of his thumb.
Hrelle purred. And stirred.
Just as his communications panel chirped, and the voice of Captain Weynik filled the air. "
Moonstone
to
Sureswift
, come in please."
Kami burst out into raucous laughter, helping herself back into her seat as Hrelle let loose a volley of curses, before opening the channel. "This is
Sureswift
, you little prick!"
The Roylan's voice was laced with confusion. "Huh?"