Surefoot 52: ...this Means War

USS

Surefoot-A

, Deck 1 Fore – Officers' Mess

5.5 Hours Until Armageddon:

The room was eerily quiet despite the numbers present, readying for the morning shift.

Captain Esek Hrelle sat at his regular table with the rest of his family, eating without enjoying it. He expected such a reaction, but also knew enough to eat, regardless of the circumstances, not knowing when he'd get the chance to eat again.

To his right, his wife and Ship's Counselor Kami Hrelle, ate as well, though she kept her breakfast small; though she had less direct combat experience than he, she understood the necessity of keeping her strength up in the coming hours.

Opposite her, their nanny Jhess Furore, a veteran of the Caitian Sabrecats in the last Ferasan War, ate more heartily, though Hrelle suspected it was as much to keep up a cheerful facade for the cubs in his charge as for practicality. The spotted Caitian would occasionally bend over the infant chair of Hrelle's daughter Sreen, to coo and tickle her, having fed and burped her before partaking himself. Sreen gurgled happily, oblivious to the tension.

Her older brother Misha appeared less content. He sat in his own elevated chair, had finished his bowl of Claw Flakes, and now focused on observing the surrounding adults and twitching his muzzle suspiciously.

Hrelle watched, hiding his smirk behind a raised mug of tea before finally venturing, "You finished your breakfast, son. You want anything else?"

The four-year-old pushed away his bowl. "I want a Misha Meeting!"

Hrelle glanced at the flanking adults but otherwise controlled his reaction. "And how do we ask for things properly in our family, Cub of Mine?"

Misha growled... but made a show of folding his hands on the table, and with a theatrical flourish asked, "May I

please

have a Misha Meeting, ladies and gentlemen?"

Kami and Jhess snickered, Hrelle following, and they only got worse when Misha frowned at their reaction and rapped the table with his knuckles, in a manner very reminiscent of his father trying to capture the attention in a meeting. "Why you laugh?"

His mother recovered to reach out and scratch behind one of his furry ears. "Sorry, Hon. Now, what is this Misha Meeting about?"

Still trying to look stern, despite enjoying his mother's attention, he pointed up at each of them, and then some of the others in the Mess Hall. "You all smell scared! What's going on?"

Hrelle sighed and set down his mug; he had lost his taste for morning brews long ago anyway. "The Thirteenth Fleet is going to fight some Dominion and Cardassian ships today."

Misha's eyes widened. "We fight too?"

"No," Kami explained. "But we will be there, to find and pick up anyone if their ships are damaged in the fight, and if they're hurt, they'll need help from our medical teams."

The cub frowned. "We can fight! Papa not afraid to fight!"

Hrelle offered a slight smile. "Thank you for saying that, son. But our job is not to fight, unless we have to. I wish we didn't have to fight. I wish we could all live together peacefully."

"Why the Minions and the Cardigans fight with us?"

Hrelle looked to the other adults, letting Jhess jump in now. "Because sadly, some people will say they want to live in peace, but they only want to live in peace with themselves in charge. And if you don't agree with them, they will fight you. Remember your history lessons on the Ferasans and the Caitians?"

Misha scowled, shaking a finger in Jhess' direction. "I no like the Fearies! They hurt Sasha! I wanna kill them!"

Kami reached out and rested a hand on her son's. "No, don't say that. I understand that you're angry, we all get angry when people we love get hurt by others. And there are times when we have to hurt, and even kill, others, to protect ourselves and our family and friends. But we shouldn't

want

to do it. Understand?"

The cub looked dubious at that, even surrounded by adults who were telling him differently. But he nodded. "I protect you and Sreen."

Kami smiled and patted his hand now. "That's fine, you stick with Sreen and Jhess and me and protect us. There will be people we rescue who won't be hurt, but they'll be scared, and needing comfort and reassurance that they're okay now, and that we'll be getting them away safely from the fighting."

Misha slipped his hand out from under his mother's and shook a finger at her. "Okay, but I still protect you!"

Jhess grinned and looked to the other adults. "I don't know about you two, but I feel safer already..."

"SON OF A BITCH!"

The curse came from a nearby table, Hrelle recognising it as Ensign Nancy Yeager, sitting with some others from Engineering; she had spilled her coffee cup, hence her reaction.

Misha looked over, declaring loudly, "Rude Word! Women aren't-"

But then he stopped as Kami patted his hand, suggesting softly, "I think today we can let people swear. They'll be angry and scared and they'll need to get it out of their bellies or they won't be able to do their jobs properly, okay?"

As Misha nodded at that, Hrelle rose and approached, where Nancy had kicked back her chair and stood up, trying to mop up the spillage with her napkin and those of the others, still cursing, until she snapped up at Hrelle's presence. "Sir! Captain, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you and the family! I- I-"

He ignored her, lifting up two of the unused napkins. "Twenty-fourth Century replicator technology, and they still can't produce properly absorbent material... use one to mop up the spill, let it thoroughly soak... use the second one to deal with the rest." He looked up. "Mr Gentry, you're in charge of this operation." Then he moved over to Nancy, resting a hand on her shoulder and guiding her to one of the windows. "Look out there, Ensign."

She was still discernibly flustered and embarrassed. "Sir, I'm sorry- I didn't meant to lose control like that, honestly, I-I-"

His voice remained gentle, patiently insistent. "Look out there, Ensign. Pick a star and focus on it. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth."

"Captain, I have to-"

"You have to follow orders. And talking isn't required at this moment."

Reluctantly, Yeager forced herself to comply, though her body remained tense.

"And relax your muscles," he added quietly. "Not so much that you poop yourself, though."

That broke her tension, and she chuckled, quickly stifling it again. More softly, she muttered, "Sorry, Sir-"

"So you've said already, more than once. You don't have to, though. We're all afraid."

She looked up at him. "You too, Sir?"

He nodded. "Of course. It's one thing to suddenly find yourself in a combat situation, where you have little or no time to ponder what could happen." He indicated the rest of the ships in the Thirteenth Fleet, all moving together at warp speed to their destination. "Now, we have the time. I hate it. I hate knowing I'm taking my ship, my crew – my family – into battle. But I can't change the circumstances that are taking us there. I can only focus on my job, on the things I can control.

And that's all any of us can do. Focus on the things we have control over."

Yeager seemed to take this in, finally nodding again. "I'll do that, Sir. Thank you."

He nodded back. "Dismissed."

As she returned to her colleagues, he took a moment to find a point out there... not a star, but another ship. The

Ajax

was near, captained by his old buddy Weynik, with Hrelle's daughter Sasha as second officer. Sasha had made remarkable progress towards recovering from her recent injuries and traumas, but Hrelle wondered if it was enough to sustain her in the upcoming battle.

Not to mention more immediate unpleasantness they were probably facing now...

*

USS

Ajax

, Deck 2 Fore – Captain's Ready Room

5.2 Hours Until Armageddon:

Lieutenant Jim Madison stepped through the narrow archway as the door slid open, stepping up instinctively to the Captain's desk, expecting to meet him alone.

But not expecting the First Officer, Lt Commander Kohanim on Weynik's right hand... and Sasha on Weynik's left. The Zakdorn Kohanim appeared recovered from his recent wounds following the Ferasan incident, and was his usual superior, judgmental self. And Sasha... she had changed considerably since he last saw her: she had grown back her blonde hair, removed her more recent scars... and strangely enough, stared at him now with a glare as cold as space, their former closeness seemingly forgotten.

Madison took his eyes off of her, focusing on their Commanding Officer. "You called for me, Sir?"

The Roylan Captain fixed his beady black eyestalks up at him. "Yes. We want to know who you work for."

He blinked in confusion. "Sir? I-I don't understand."

Kohanim spoke up now. "The question is explicit, Lieutenant. Who do you report to? What is your mission on the

Ajax

?"

Madison glanced around the three of them in turn. "Sir, I'm a member of the Engineering team, I report to Chief Maryk-"

"You work for Starfleet Intelligence," Weynik cut in sharply. "You report to Admiral Ian Trenagen."

Madison's heart raced in disbelief. Where the hell had they got that idea? "Sir? I've never met Admiral Trenagen-"

"That's not what Captain Hrelle's nose told him. When we ran into you on the

Triton

, his scent was on you. I might fault my best friend for a number of reasons, but I trust his sense of smell."

Madison's heart was racing. This was a nightmare! It had to be! "S-Sir, I went to visit some old friends from the Academy who were posted there! I swear to you on my life!"

"I wouldn't be so bold to wager my life, Lieutenant," Kohanim replied. "Following on from Captain Hrelle's accusation, Captain Weynik spoke with Admiral Tattok, who had his security team on the

Triton

trace your movements during the time you were onboard his ship. You beamed onboard and proceeded directly to the guest quarters... where Admiral Trenagen was billeted."

He shook his head. No, no, he

did

visit his old buddies in Engineering! "Sir, I've never met the Admiral, I don't work for Starfleet Intelligence-"

"Section 31, then?" Sasha finally accused.

He looked to her, forcing himself to face the barely-controlled rage he saw behind her expression. "What? What the hell's Section 31? I don't know what that is!"

She stepped forward, raising the hand she kept at her side, curled up to hide something she now dropped onto Weynik's desk: several small metallic devices, card- and pen-shaped. "Recorders, scanners, transponders, an energy weapon, and what looks like a personal subspace transporter device. All next-generation technology, undetectable by normal scanning devices... and all in your quarters."

He looked down at the items, thoroughly lost. "I- I've never seen these before-"

"Funny, they had your DNA all over them."

"We've run a deep-scan security check of transmissions made by yourself in the past six months," Kohanim offered now, sneering. "Transmissions ostensibly to family members, but all carrying encrypted submessages we have yet to open."

Sweat beaded down his broad face. "WHAT? No! I don't know what you're talking about! I don't have any family!" He looked to Sasha pleadingly. "I told you, my parents were killed at Wolf 359!"

She didn't flinch.

"You're still denying it?" Weynik snapped, rising to his feet. "What's the point? The evidence is undeniable! Why were you sent here? To spy on me? Trenagen and my father have clashed more than once; for that matter, so have Trenagen and I."

"So has Trenagen and

my

father," Sasha added. "And from what I understand, Trenagen and my grandmother. The old bastard rubs everyone's fur the wrong way."

"Even those of us without fur," Weynik returned.

Madison was near hyperventilating now with panic. "Sir, this is a mistake, a terrible mistake! I'm not a spy! I would never betray you!" He looked to Sasha; she knew him, she knew he wouldn't do anything! "Sash! It's me! I wouldn't spy on you! You know that!"

But she just stared back, replying, "I don't know anything anymore, Jim."

"Under other circumstances," Weynik continued. "I'd have had you off my ship to face my father's wrath. But we're all about to go into battle... and I think we'll all feel more secure with you in the Brig for the time being." He pressed a button on his desk intercom.

Madison looked around pleadingly. This wasn't happening! It couldn't be! "Sir-"

The door slid open, and two Security crewmen entered.

"Sir, you can't just lock me up!"

"I think you'll find you're very much mistaken, Lieutenant. We have uncovered evidence which suggests that you are a potential security risk to this ship and crew. We'll commence a formal investigation following the forthcoming battle... assuming we survive. Take him away."

Madison paled, suffused with shock, numbly allowing the men, men he knew and who knew him, to guide him out of the room.

*

Sasha thought that, once they led Jim out of the room, that the tension filling her would lessen, if not abate entirely. It didn't.

And it was obviously noticeable by the senior officers, Weynik responding with a sympathetic, "Sasha, I am aware of how this turn of events will have affected you on a personal level, and normally I would give you time off. But-"

She snapped back to a facade of professionalism. "But today is hardly normal, Sir, I understand. Request permission to report to the Bridge?"

He nodded appreciatively. "Granted. We'll be up before the firing starts."

"Don't leave it too late, Sir," she suggested dryly. "Or I might start without you."

Sasha spared a final glance at the spy tools she had found in Madison's possessions as she departed for the adjacent Bridge at her station beside Ops, her thoughts a storm. Jim had put on such a good show in there, she might have doubted him. Except for what her Dad had reported from onboard the

Triton

, and Weynik's account from his last meeting with Trenagen, and the physical evidence of the tools and the communiques Kohanim found. Maybe he was so good at his job that he managed to convince himself?

"Lieutenant Hrelle?"

She looked up. "Yes, Ensign?"

The Operations Officer, Shanek, was standing there, the young Vulcan male's forehead creasing, and his voice lowered. "Lieutenant Hrelle, my duties have... made me aware of the current situation involving Lt Madison."

Sasha bristled. That made sense; despite the efforts of the senior officers to keep such a scandal quiet from the crew in the hours before going into battle, Shanek would obviously work out what had happened, both as an Ops Officer and as Jim's roommate. "I can't discuss the details with anyone."

He nodded sagely. "Of course. I merely wish to offer my condolences to you. Having personally witnessed the relationship between yourself and Jim during our shared time onboard, I am cognisant about how this might be affecting you on an emotional level-"

"I'm fine, Ensign," she declared quickly, sharply... and immediately following with a softer, more sympathetic, "But thank you for asking. For now, I want you to run Level 4 diagnostics on the weapons and damage control systems; we're gonna need both in full working order before the day is out."

Shanek nodded again. "Aye, Lieutenant." He returned to his duties.

She pretended to return to hers.

*

USS

Dragonheart

, Deck 3 Mid – Officers' Quarters:

4.8 Hours Until Armageddon:

"

Lieutenant Ostrow, Ensign Ostrow, report to your duty stations."

Jonas clung to his wife, the pair of them freezing in place at the sound of their Captain's voice. He made a sound. "I don't believe it. I really

don't

believe it."

Neraxis looked up at him with eyes as blue as her Bolian skin, smirking. "Told you we should have started this sooner." She lifted her head up to kiss him, patting him on the cheek. "You shouldn't have held back, Mr Marathon."

"That's Lieutenant Marathon, Ensign." He grunted, withdrew and rose, the pair of them quickly and quietly dressing. They had been expecting this, of course – they're weren't Squabs anymore – and they had said all they had wanted to say to each other the night before.

Finally Neraxis muttered, "Can't believe you got the Horn mere hours before we go into battle. You must have Klingon blood in you."

He adjusted his jacket, ensuring his pips were straight on his collar, before combing back his silver hair with his fingers. "Well, you weren't exactly resisting me either, True Blue."

"Who can resist those Puppy Dog Eyes of yours?"

They stopped, fully dressed and ready to head out and face whatever was thrown at them.

But they rushed into each other's arms one last time, gripping tightly.

"Starboard Pods 18-20," he reminded her softly.

She nodded, fearing she might start crying; her husband knew every square centimetre of their starship, knew their own duty stations, and the quickest, safest routes to the escape pods where they could meet up in the event of an evacuation... if it became necessary. Which she prayed it wouldn't. They hadn't been married nearly as long as she wanted. Not nearly as long.

It took every effort to part and leave their quarters, before Captain Nguyen's voice returned.

*

USS

Iberia

, Deck 5 Aft – Science Lab 4

4.6 Hours Until Armageddon:

Ensign Kitirik Abyss Zuinthinem Emijiz walked along the row of live animal containers, checking each of the occupants, ensuring the bioscanners, food dispensers and atmospheric tubes were functioning properly... and offering personal attention to all of the reptiles, marsupials, insects, avians, subterraneans and aquatic creatures he had helped care for over the last few months. "I am so pleased to see all of you alive and well, and not appearing overtly disturbed by your transplant from your native environments- ahh, Chester, good evening to you, Proud Bird!"

Within the clearsteel container before him, which enclosed a miniature desert environment, a melon-sized Delta sand peacock sat on a rock, screeching its little head off up at Kit, as it flashed its fan of tailfeathers, whose design mimicked the eyes and mouth of a larger predator.

The reptoid Science Officer flushed his wattles a pleasing purple. "Yes, indeed, consider me most intimidated." He bowed and moved onto the next container, where a pair of Deltan black tortoises were mating. Slowly. Somehow. Kit watched only for a moment, before nodding at them. "Yes, enjoy yourselves while you can. I fear you may be disturbed later." Now he moved onto another container, where a small swarm of Klingon globflies whirled around a miniature rek'lag bush, and Kit's wattles darkened a hungry purple. "And you, my friends, remain as appetising to my eyes as always-"

"Don't even think about it, Ensign. I've counted every one of those fellas in there."

Kit stepped back, straightening up. "Respected Lieutenant! Forgive me, I was just-"

Lt Toby Hopkins chuckled. "-Just playing Doctor Dolittle again?"

The Qarari wheezed with amusement; the other members of the

Iberia

's Science Division liked to refer to Kit with the appellation, which puzzled Kit at first, not certain why they might believe he had obtained a doctorate during his time at the Academy, until he researched the origins behind the name... and found the comparison most complimentary. "Would that I

could

talk to the animals, Respected Sir; I could write some noteworthy dissertations." Then he approached. "I know I should be reporting to my duty station, but I wished to see to the animals. They will hardly be cognisant of the meaning behind our ship's alerts."

Hopkins, a young, swarthy human with a mass of tight black curly hair, let his normally jovial facade sober. "No. No, they won't. And perhaps they're the lucky ones." Then he moved over to the central monitoring station and entered his authorisation codes, never looking up. "Are you- Are you scared, Kit?"