SUREFOOT: MR AND MRS OSTROW
USS
Surefoot
, Deck 3 Mid -- Sickbay Suite:
"STINKY COMPUTER!"
Dr Shyrik had been in her office opposite the Crèche, cursing her article for the Starfleet Medical Journal for its inability to write itself, when she heard the exclamation from within. Recognising the voice, she rose from behind her desk, crossed over and entered the other room. "What do you think you're doing, young man?"
Misha Hrelle stood in front of his computer display, his chair knocked away, teeth and claws bared at the screen, his pudgy tail twitching with agitation. The three-year-old cub straightened up and retracted his claws. "Nothing."
The Andorian's antennae dipped down at him. "Whatever it is doing wrong, I doubt if it will be intimidated by your display of aggression. Now tell me what has it done to deserve this display?"
"Nothing!" he snapped.
Shyrik folded her arms. "You lie. I will summon your mother or father to deal with you-"3333
"NO!"
Shyrik learned in closer, fixing a steely glare on him. "I beg your pardon?"
Misha stuck out a defiant chin and replied, "No...
thank you!"
She straightened up again, hiding her amusement at how similar toddlers of all races were. "So, what did the computer do to upset you? Were you looking to play a game instead of learning your lessons?"
"It won't tell me things!"
"That seems strange behaviour for such a machine. What things did you want to know?"
"New Dish Tracks!"
It took a moment for Shyrik to decipher the answer. "Neurodystraxia. The genetic condition diagnosed for your unborn sister." She understood, having been present when Kami Hrelle had the diagnosis confirmed days ago, and knew that the Counselor and the Captain would of course talk to their son about it. "And what did you want to know?"
"I want to fix Sreen's New Dish Tracks!" he exclaimed, as if stating the obvious.
Shyrik regarded him, and dropped to one knee. Her own people were very pragmatic about illness and injury, and to non-Andorians this attitude came across as unsympathetic, even harsh. But that did not mean she had to offer such a response to everyone. especially not this one. "You can't fix her. No one can, not without causing Sreen a great deal of pain. Your parents won't do that to her."
He stabbed an accusatory finger at her. "
You
fix people! Doc Cowboy fixes people! Doc Klingon fixes people! You all fix!"
"Yes," she agreed softly. "We do. But we don't fix everyone. We can't fix everyone. Sometimes people have problems that can't be fixed, not easily, if ever."
"No?"
"No."
His expression changed, and the anger and defiance he was displaying seconds before now melted into a heartbreaking vulnerability. "I'm her big brother. Wanna help her."
Shyrik reached out and brushed back the truculent tufts of fur on the top of the toddler's head, and her voice was gentle and reassuring. "Of course you do. And you
can
help her -- by helping your parents now, and when Sreen is born, by being there for her when she learns to do things, and needs her big brother's help. Do you understand?"
He grunted, pouting.
She straightened up again. "Will a snack in the Mess Hall help your understanding?"
Misha still pouted... but nodded.
Shyrik took his hand and led him out, as Masterson walked by. "Hey, what's up with the Lil' Critter?"
"Hmm?" Shyrik's antenna rose. "Oh,
this
one. He's an overindulged brat who's disturbing my work, so I'm taking him somewhere to shut him up for a while. Do you have a problem with that?"
The human held up his hands. "Me? No. Just be back for our meeting with Commander T'Varik later. And..." He nodded to Misha. "Try to be nice to him, okay?"
She sneered at Masterson as she led the cub out. "You weak-spined races coddle your young too much! You won't see such sentimental indulgence from Andorians!"
*
"USS
Surefoot-A
, Captain's Log, Stardate 50596.53, Captain Esek Hrelle, Commanding: our ship has left Sherman's Planet with the rest of the Thirteenth Fleet, for a stopover at Deep Space Station K7, for resupply and retrofit prior to our new assignment in the war against the Dominion. K7's limited facilities and the needs of the Fleet mean that we will be stationed here for at least a week, but that doesn't bother me. Not only am I in no hurry to rush off back into war following our hostilities with the Klingons, but we have a more enjoyable task ahead of us here to occupy our time."
*
Deck 2 Fore -- Transporter Room 1:
Hrelle rocked back and forth, fidgeting in place, until his wife, Counselor Kami Hrelle, standing beside him, glanced in his direction. "Stop that, it looks like you've got worms."
Standing between his parents, dressed like them in a minikin version of a Starfleet uniform, Misha frowned. "Papa's got worms?" He looked to his mother. "Is he sick? Has he got worms up his bum?"
"No, I don't have worms up my bum, Cub of Mine." When Chief Engineer Grev, standing by the transporter console, chuckled, until Hrelle shot him a dirty look. "Energise already, Chief."
The Tellarite complied, and as twin columns of energy appeared on the pads before him, Hrelle felt tempted to rush up and have his arms already around the coalescing forms, before accepting that the transporter safety controls would simply abort the process. So he tensed until the cycle was complete, producing a tall, slim, silver-haired human male and a shorter, more muscular Bolian female, and he raced up to envelop them both in his arms. "MY CUBS! MY CUBS ARE BACK!"
The breath shot out of Lieutenant Jonas Ostrow and Ensign Neraxis Nemm, and they looked pleadingly over the shoulders of their former Captain, prompting Kami to chide, "That's enough, Papa Cat, or they'll be having their wedding in Sickbay." As her husband reluctantly obeyed, she moved in for hugs of her own. "It's wonderful to see you back here again! And on such a lovely occasion!"
"Thanks, Counselor." Neraxis beamed as she swept Misha up in her arms. "And look at
you
, Ickle Baby! It used to be that you were so small I could keep you in my pocket! And now you're big enough to join Starfleet!"
"I am!" Misha agreed with enthusiastic nods, looking to his mother. "See? Ner-Ner says I can join!"
Kami looked less than fervent at the prospect, however. "Ask me after you stop getting your tail caught in doors." She looked to Grev. "Well, Chief? Have you missed your young protégé?"
The porcine Chief wrinkled his blunt snout. "As much as I miss a dose of fleas."
Jonas smirked and approached. "Don't be mean to fleas, they're probably your only friends." Then he laughed and clasped hands with his former superior. "It's good to see you again, Chief. You should have seen the
Dragonheart
's Engine Room when I arrived, it was like it was being run by Pakleds."
"Oh, I can imagine! And the stench-"
"Like a zerteth pelt left in the sun too long! And their warp efficiency was only 84%!"
"What? Pathetic! Even an incompetent pup like you could do better!"
"Before this descends into more Tellarite Banter," Hrelle interrupted, looking to each of the new arrivals in turn. "I wanted to say thank you both for considering the
Surefoot
as a place to have your wedding. Though I'm surprised that you're not having it onboard the
Dragonheart
. I wouldn't want Captain Nguyen to feel slighted."
"Actually, Sir, he's relieved," Jonas informed him. "I don't think he likes weddings."
"What? Who doesn't like weddings?"
"Someone who's been married four times," Neraxis quipped. "Jonas' mother and my family will be here later, Captain, arriving on schedule."
"No problem, Ensign, we have the guest quarters ready -- and we're posting extra Security everywhere to deal with your siblings."
Still in Neraxis' arms, Misha gasped, eyes widening. "Lazy's coming?"
Neraxis grinned. "Yes, Alazea's coming. She says she's looking forward to seeing you again."
Jonas chuckled. "We might have to make it a double wedding."
The cub beamed at the prospect. "DOUBLE WEDDING! I MARRY LAZY!"
As they walked down the corridor to the guest quarters, Hrelle noted, "The rest of the old Alpha Squad is planning on meeting you over on K7 at 1200 Hours. Your Best Man won't have much time to prepare the Bachelor Party, but we'll accommodate as best we can." The Caitian made a sound of clearing his throat. "So, uh, who's gonna be your Best Man, Jonas?"
"Well, Sir, but I haven't had the chance to ask her in person yet-"
"'Her'?"
Kami nudged her husband. "Yes, Esek; 'Best Man' is a bit of an archaic term. You've been watching too many old Terran vivids."
Hrelle grunted, but then brightened again. "Of course! You'll need someone to officiate the ceremony! Someone of Command rank-"
"Yes, Sir," Jonas agreed. "That's why we asked Captain Weynik to come over for that. He was delighted to do so."
Between his parents again, Misha looked at his father's drooping tail and frowned. "Why Papa sad?"
The younger couple stopped, grinned at each other and turned to face the older couple, Neraxis looking to Hrelle. "Actually, Captain, I was hoping that you would stand in for my late father, and give me away."
The disappointment on Hrelle's face melted away like ice in a supernova. "Me? Be Father of the Bride? Why, I'd be honoured! Privileged! Delighted!"
"I should warn you, he'll be blubbering before you get to your vows," Kami noted dryly.
Beside him, Misha stepped away to avoid his father's Happy Tail smacking him.
"And maybe Misha can be the Ring Bearer?" Jonas suggested, smiling.