Surefoot 63: Red Flags

Prologue:

The camp on the steppes of the Ravath Province was not on any maps of Cait, or in any directory accessible to the inhabitants of the planet. It consisted of a score of windowless buildings of various sizes, an open area for flyers and land vehicles, and a perimeter of a high razor wire fence studded with sensors, and topped in places with security towers that swept more intense sensor beams over the surrounding area. Nothing could approach without being detected.

A black-furred Caitian male Agent approached without being detected.

He was covered from head to toe, even his tail, by a bodysuit coated in sophisticated materials that masked him, not only from the sensors, but the natural senses of the Enemy. As he approached the fence, he slowed, knowing that his bodysuit could not mask his mass from the inner sensor ring, and so touched a control on his wrist, activating a phase shifter that let him continue onward, walking through the fence without disturbing it or the sensors.

The Agent drew closer to one building, finally switching off the shifter and breathing again; it was a useful device, but one of limited utility due to its power requirements and its effect on his body. He kept to the shadows, remaining still whenever one of the Enemy guards passed by, moving like they had already won.

No, you snaggletoothed kussiks,

he thought to them.

The fight's not over. Not just yet.

He moved closer to his intended target, the camp's largest structure, a black box of an industrial building that looked like a factory built to mass-produce dread. He checked the power levels of his shifter, calculated he needed the remaining amount to safely escape the camp, and chose from his utility belt another means of entry: a hand phaser, its silent black beam vaporising a small part of the building's wall.

Naras,

came a familiar female voice in his head, courtesy of a subcutaneous communicator comprised of technology not available to anyone outside of certain parties.

Not now, Nenjo,

he thought back, not needing the distraction, studying the layout of the interior: a series of individual medical examination and treatment rooms, interspersed with storage cubicles and offices- there.

You can at least give me an update,

she chided, her anxiety lacing her cybernetic transmission.

Naras knelt down at the door lock, retrieving an exceiver from his belt and letting it do its magic.

I'm in the camp. There are extensive medical facilities here.

But?

she prompted.

He ground his teeth; his sister could always pick up whenever he was holding something back.

I've not yet seen the type of decontamination features expected to detect and treat metreon isotope contamination.

What, the Ferasans are lying to us? Shocking.

The door unlocked, and he straightened up, finding a standard office, starkly furnished, entirely functional, and moved to the desk terminal, adjusting his exceiver's controls.

Stay focused. Have you located her family?

Yes: they're still on their Clanlands, though Captain Hrelle and his human daughter having been travelling around-

He frowned under his bodysuit.

Ma'Sala's kin are still there? We need to get them to safety!

They've altered their identities pretty thoroughly. I recognised one of Professor S'Li's classic encryption algorithms-

Doesn't matter. They're famous in their own right even without being the Fleet Captain's kin! Contact them, take them to the Island-

Naras paused as he watched the terminal come to life, with records of Caitians being gathered from all over the Motherworld, ostensibly on account of the so-called Metremia Threat, having general medical tests, genetic scans- fertility tests for the females? And what was this Factory many of them were being sent to from here-

He started as the lights flared to life around him, and screeching alarms pierced his ears. Immediately he transmitted the data he had just collected to their current homebase.

I've been made.

Get out of there, Brother!

He was already moving. Since the Onslaught, when the Ferasans wiped out the Militia and the Planetary Navy and took over the Caitian government, the members of the Mother's Claws had been on the run, leaderless following the death of Ma'Sala, and they were rapidly losing contact with their fellow agents, from death or disappearance, whether self-imposed or caused by the Rat-tails...

But regardless of their current straits, they had responsibilities to their people, to find out what the Enemy was doing to those selected to come here.

Naras raced to the hole in the wall he had created, mentally calculating the distance to the beam-out point outside the camp, even as his eyes took in the many, many Ferasans converging from every direction, weapons drawn, none of them realising that the duonetic scrambler on his belt would prevent their use... and that his phase shifter will deal with those Rat-tails who want to get physical.

He raced towards the fence, his mind jumping back to when Nenjo and he were cubs not even into their first Season, chasing each other's tails around the garden, quarrelling, laughing, without a care in the world. Never even thinking about what tomorrow would bring, let alone decades later. Never thinking about dying.

Nenjo...

he thought for a final time.

Beloved Sister... protect Ma'Sala's kin. Assist them to help free the Motherworld.

Naras, what's happening? Get back to the beam-out point, Brother!

He switched on the phase shifter before the first of the Ferasans could grab him. He indulged in a moment of satisfaction as he watched them pass through his body, more than once slamming into each other, shouting and cursing in confusion at being able to see their quarry, but not touch him.

And despite himself, he wondered if he might actually make it out alive.

A second after the power to the phase shifter depleted entirely, and he solidified halfway through the fence, that wonder was rudely driven from him, along with his life.

*

Capitol Building, First City, M'Mirl Province, Planet Cait:

Provisional First Minister Renthri Lessade drew back, having quickly grown accustomed to speaking to the unseen hundreds of millions around the planet, offering them the most mature, confident and commanding facade he could manage.

"Fellow Citizens of Cait: it is with a heavy heart that I must impart the gravest of news. The Metremia Threat created by the traitors in the Caitian Militia and their Starfleet collaborators has worsened. It saddens me profoundly, as it saddens all of us, to hear of the growing reports of cases all over the Motherworld.

Metremia is an insidious degenerative disease, one which will not display any outward symptoms... until it is far too late. And, tragically, those who carry it can unknowingly spread it to their parents, their spouses... even their cubs.

But we must take heart! Our Ferasan cousins, who now shield us from being seen as enemies by the Dominion, are continuing to run scans of the population, finding those infected, and inviting them to attend the isolated medical facilities being set up now. We will be forever in their debt for their selfless contributions to our welfare."

He leaned forward in his chair. "Those identified as infected must respond with immediate effect and accompany the professionals when the transport vehicles arrive for them; any delay can be fatal. They may take a small carry-on luggage item with them... but they must go unaccompanied.

I know this will be emotionally difficult, especially with those young cubs who have been infected, but the medical facilities do not have the capacity to accommodate any more than the infected or the medical staff. We will provide regular updates as to the condition of their loved ones, but for security reasons, we cannot arrange for visits or communications, at least not at present."

He offered an angry furrowed brow to the cameras. "But as sorrowful as we all are at the medical emergency we face, I am even more saddened... and angered... at the number of terrorist acts being committed by the Enemy Within: those surviving members of the Caitian Militia, and their Starfleet paymasters, who are even now conducting acts of murder and sabotage, in their execrable efforts to impose their militaristic, dictatorial agenda upon us. None of us are safe --

not even innocent cubs!

Until their threat is dealt with once and for all, we must endure certain temporary limitations to our liberties: travel must be restricted for only essential reasons; public assemblies and demonstrations not approved by the Provisional Government must be denied; certain suspect citizens must be temporarily detained indefinitely to allow them to assist the Provisional Government; and there must be necessary searches of industrial and private residences.

We will of course keep such limitations to a bare minimum, never to be abused... and we will rely on the innate, unparalleled qualities of cooperation and understanding of our people, to assist our Ferasan cousins, allies and benefactors.

Our futures lie together."

The indicators confirmed the transmission had ended.

At the side, a bored-looking Ferasan was leaning against a wall, but now breathed out, grinding the sabreteeth in his muzzle. "Come along, Puppet, let's get you back into your box..."

*

Elsewhere in the Capitol Building, Melem-Adu, Pridemaster of the Black Pelt Pride and Master Governor of Cait, picked at the remains of the meat on a femur bone, tossing the bone over his shoulder and belching loudly.

At the table, sitting before a bowl of untouched nuts and berries, the Vorta Weyos cocked his head and looked at the Ferasan with curiosity. "Is that a healthy response to the food?"

Melem-Adu wiped his stubby muzzle on his sleeve and reached for his wine. "Better out than in. Don't Vorta belch?"

"No, our diet is simple, and does not induce such extreme gastronomic reactions within us."

The Ferasan grunted. "Throw away the nuts and berries, my friend, and tuck into some fresh meat. It'll put fur on your chest and juice in your balls."

Weyos smiled politely. "Thank you, Master Governor, but I doubt if either modification to my physiology would augment my ability to serve the Founders. Perhaps if you're finished, we can commence our daily briefing?"

Melem-Adu drank from his goblet, gesturing to a young Ferasan male standing warily near the Jem'Hadar who were present to guard Weyos. "Approach!" As he obeyed, Melem-Adu gnashed his sabreteeth with pleasure. "Hap-Tek, my First Son: tell our Dominion friend of our security successes."

The male, with thick vertical blue war stripes on his muzzle, straightened up proudly, displaying the colourful symbols of his affiliation with the Black Pelt Pride, as well as his more specific high standing within it. "We have complete control over the planet and its infrastructure, our Personal Transport Network is fully operational, and we are arranging to empty the government treasuries of gold-pressed latinum and other valuables. We have collected nearly all of the Caitian Militia operatives who were not wiped out in our First Strike, and the civilian Constabulary are obedient sheep, following the directives of the Protection Act."

Weyos nodded at that. "And your search for the Starfleet personnel still at large on Cait?"

Hap-Tek looked hesitantly to his father, who drew in a breath and answered for his son. "Not as successful as we would prefer; some have been collected and disposed of, but there has since been a purge of all computers of references to Caitian and non-Caitian Starfleet personnel on the planet.

My second son, Enam-Bel is in Shanos Minor now, where we believe there are some potential leads among the Militia prisoners." He grunted. "More than likely any Starfleet scum on the planet are hiding like vermin, afraid of us."

"One would hope," Weyos replied. "And one would hope you are still maintaining vigilance against the potential threat, rather than act like a pack of... looters?"

Hap-Tek growled, stepping forward. "How

dare

you? You effete vegetarian, I will-"

Melem-Adu raised a paw to stop his son... fully aware of the Jem'Hadar standing guard nearby, reaching for their weapons at the potential threat to the Vorta. The Pridemaster kept his gaze fixed on Weyos. "Please excuse my son; youth can be impetuous, especially with a race as proud and passionate as we are."

Weyos offered a smile that didn't reach his purple eyes. "And desperate, too, I imagine, given your current genetic problems."

The Pridemaster started, then bolted to his feet and glanced around, fixing on Caitian servants in the background. "REMOVE THEM!" When this was done, Melem-Adu glared at the Vorta. "What do you know?"

Weyos leaned forward now, casually reaching for the bowl of nuts and berries. "Enough, Master Governor. Enough to know this operation is about more than finally conquering your ancestral adversaries, or looting their treasuries... or even of petitioning to join the Dominion." He selected a large, juicy-looking orange berry, popping it into his mouth and consuming it before adding, "It's about your race's survival."

Melem-Adu looked to his son, his heart quickening.

They knew...

"We need to keep this known only between the Patriarch, the highest Pridemasters and their First Sons. Should our people learn of the strength of our calamity-"

"Or your enemies," Weyos offered, reaching for a nut now, as if the revelation had triggered his appetite. "Quite understandable. Do not fear, Master Governor, your people's secret is safe with the Dominion." He popped another nut into his mouth for punctuation.

Melem-Adu controlled his reaction.

You miserable, unctuous

cur... if we didn't need your forces to watch the outer system, while we focus on our needs...

*

Kaijushima Island, Meztika Sea:

"Oh my God," Sasha Hrelle whispered softly to herself at the sight of the dinosaur.

It was the largest land animal she had ever seen in the flesh: as big as a house or more, with four massive legs like elephants, and a long curving neck leading up to a tiny head that occasionally dipped down to rip at some foliage it passed on its way to a wide clearing. Its leathery hide was a mural of bright coloured stripes that helped camouflage it while in the jungle, every step it took a rumble, and its spiked mace-like tail contributing a further beat as it thumped into the soil.

She watched with the wonder of a child. She had read about dinosaurs on Earth and of similar creatures on other worlds -- Hodgkin's Law of Parallel Planetary Development applied to sauropods as well as humanoids, it seemed -- and she had seen ancient movies detailing them, and even holodeck programs recreating them. But this... this was real!

She watched as the beast continued out of the jungle and into the clearing, where others of its kind awaited, the creatures making trumpeting sounds of greeting, like elephants. And around them, smaller beasts -- some with spiky backs, spinal plates or armoured plating, some two-legged as well as four-legged, some even possessing bat-like wings -- drank from the river that cut throughout the clearing, occasionally snapping at those animals who came too close.

She wiped the sweat from her brow once more as she stayed hidden.

Amazing.

"Wow."

Sasha turned as her father approached, Captain Esek Hrelle staring out at the clearing as well, pointing to the various different species. "Gojiras, Megalons, an Ebirah at the edge, two Rodans humping -- ouch, that looks painful -- next to a family of Gameras, a Ghidorah..." He purred to himself. "I had a picturebook with all the names of the species on the island." He sniffed the air. "It's one of the more amazing places on Cait: an isolated island with an ecosystem untouched since the planet's prehistoric era."

"Yeah... but why isn't this a tourist attraction?"

"It was considered, once or twice, but the prevailing wisdom has always been that the animals here should be left in peace, and only studied discreetly." He nodded. "Which should work in our favour. Come on, Mori is having some trouble getting the support systems online."

She nodded as well and followed him back towards the half-hidden vertical hatch, glad to be getting out of the heat and humidity as they descended, their boots echoing on the metal rungs... and Sasha becoming acutely aware in the confined space now that just a short while up there was enough to make her reek like a dead pig stuffed with even deader rats.

Sorry, Caitians, but you're gonna have to live with my aromatic bouquet until the systems are up and running.

The ladder took them into a darkened corridor lined on either side with crates and barrels of many sizes and shapes, a corridor that branched off in various directions at various junctions. When the latest addition to the Resistance had recommended Kaijushima and Sasha took them here in her flyer the Tailless, she had expected a small unmanned research outpost at most. It had been musty from being locked up for years, but a reactivation of the environmental controls soon cleared that.

They entered the station's Ops Centre, a standardised open circular area of screens, monitors, stations and desks. Most were active now, without having anyone sitting there... except for one station, where a young, chestnut-furred Caitian male in a cherry-coded Starfleet uniform was hunched over, his tail twitching through the hole in his chair, muttering to himself before letting out a filthy curse.

"Problem, Lieutenant?" Hrelle asked dryly.

Lt Mru Mori started at the interruption to his frustration, gasping and almost knocking his chair over in his rush to stand to attention. "Captain! I'm sorry, Sir! I didn't mean to lose my self-control, it won't happen again, I promise-"

He waved off his apology. "We're all working Above and Beyond here, Mr Mori; swearing will be part of all our repertoire before we're done." He indicated Sasha. "Especially from Funky Trashmouth here. Okay, Runt of the Litter, let's help the young Lieutenant here." He sniffed the air near her. "Prioritise the sonic showers if you can."

Sasha offered him her middle finger as she approached Mori, drawing up a chair to sit beside him. "Okay, Mru, let's have a look and see where the bugs are." She made a face as she stretched out an arm and breathed in --

Jeez, Sash, you stink like a mugato's ballsack

-- and then pulled it back as much as she could. "I apologise."

He glanced up. "Apologise? For what?"

"Are you kidding? You don't smell me? I whiff like out-of-date Bolian takeaway wrapped in one of my baby sister's used diapers!"

Mori frowned at her, the tip of his snout wrinkling in mild distaste. "You, ah, don't actually smell bad to me at all. I'm rather used to human scents; I spent almost four years at the Academy rooming with one who, ah, loved to exercise. All the time. More than he liked to shower." He smiled. "You're fine in comparison."

She smiled back. "I like you. You talk like I smell."

*

Hrelle smiled to himself as well as he listened to the young cubs' banter, as he left the Ops Centre for his next port of call, following his ears to the sounds of crates being opened and doors unbolted.

He found who he was looking for in a large dormitory, the bedframes and mattresses stacked along one side of the room, and two Caitian males peering into a large opened crate. "Gentlemen? How are we doing?"