Planet Ferasa Prime, Forty Years Ago:
The newborn infant wouldn't stop crying.
His parents, his Pride, tried everything: soothing music, massage, scented candles, doctors, even sedatives. They worried and argued and demanded and postured and fretted amongst themselves about what was wrong with him.
He was of course too young to understand, let alone tell them: that what was wrong was the constant discordant Noise from their thoughts and emotions, as they worried and argued and demanded and postured and fretted amongst themselves about what was wrong with him. And the more they did all that, the worse it got for him.
It had started when he was still in his mother's womb, but at least in there, it was dark and warm and wet, and his brain and its near-unique abilities were still developing. By the time he emerged into the Outside, however, the Noise was louder, more defined, a relentless din that allowed him no respite.
And all he could do in response was cry. And all that the sedation did was prevent him from expressing his pain and despair.
He didn't comprehend their talk of him being a Defective, like so many newborn Ferasans those days, and how it would be better to just euthanise him and try again.
He didn't comprehend the intervention of another Ferasan, a stranger, who inexplicably found them and offered to take the infant away, never to be seen again.
He didn't comprehend how readily they accepted, already having given up on him as they planned for another.
He didn't comprehend anything... not until the Stranger had taken him out of the city, taken him far away into what remained of the Wilds, hundreds of sestares away from other Ferasans, other minds and emotions. It was only then that the Noise had subsided, leaving him swaddled in a blessed pacific silence, allowing him to focus and enjoy the new sights, scents and sounds of the forests and the animals.
And the comforting single voice of the Stranger somehow projected into his head:
Rest easy now, Cub. I felt your pain, your anguish from far away; it was what drew me to you. But our solitude out here will give you a well-deserved peace, and allow me to teach you to shield the thoughts and emotions of others whenever you're forced to be around them. And once armoured with such skills, I will teach you how to live and thrive here in the Wilds.
The newborn infant still didn't comprehend anything. But he
did
sleep, truly sleep, in the Stranger's arms, for the first time in his fragile little life.
*
Planet Cait, Capitol Building, First City, M'Mirl Province, Today:
Melem-Adu, Master Governor of the Occupied World of Cait, stood at one end of the Mission Table, feeling angry and helpless and angry and impotent and angry and confused. And angry some more. And as he looked and listened and argued with those around him, the only comfort he could take at this time is the knowledge that, despite his insufferably oily demeanour, the Vorta Weyos was almost as frustrated as Melem-Adu.
Though Weyos still continued to bleat from the same tired old Dominion propaganda sheet. "The Jem'Hadar are the finest warriors in all the Quadrants of the Galaxy. Perhaps even beyond."
"Mmmm," Melem-Adu moaned in apparent agreement, the Ferasan crossing his arms, ignoring the Jem'Hadar at the table who looked up at him, as if believing he might be mocking them. "Then there will be a reasonable explanation for how four of your attack ships blew up over the Free Seas of Cait?"
The oatmeal-coloured humanoid fixed his soft purple eyes from his side of the table at the Master Governor. "There
will
be one, of course. We ran very thorough scans of the area-"
"-And found nothing, I know, we've been over this often enough. Maybe it was some Caitian monster from the depths of the oceans that swallowed them whole?"
Weyos' gaze narrowed. "That is hardly a helpful attitude, Master Governor, if I may be so bold."
No, you may not. All that you may do is scream your little lungs out while I eviscerate you and see if your insides are as grey and shapeless as your outsides.
He looked to the Jem'Hadar First standing beside Weyos. "Rurid'alok, the Caitian military employed a cloaking device they call a Prowl. The intelligence we were provided on them allowed us to overwhelm their Navy's forces when we first arrived in their system, but the Caitians must have made improvements to counter us."
The apple-green, pebble-skinned reptoid nodded curtly. "That is reasonable. The Caitian flyer which passed over the port of Sekuro on its way to sea dropped off our scanners, even with the compensatory improvements you supplied us."
Melem-Adu nodded; he would much rather have been working directly with Rurid'alok from the start, then having to go through the shapeless bag of smarm that was his Vorta leader. "No cloak can be perfect; there was a leaked report some years ago about Starfleet employing a tachyon net to detect Romulan ships crossing the border. You can perhaps engineer something similar to-"
"No," Weyos interrupted.
Melem-Adu looked back at him. "What did you say?"
"I said No. Master Governor, the Dominion forces are meant to be present here in a minor capacity; maintaining a presence on the outer edge of the Caitian system to prevent incursion from Starfleet, while we watch and assess your performance as a measure of your suitability to join us. Yes, I indulged your desire for helping in tracking down Captain Hrelle, but our further direct involvement will only skew that measurement... and might cost us more ships and personnel in the process." He paused and smiled. "I am
terribly
sorry, Master Governor, but I must respectfully refuse your request."
Melem-Adu glared back in disbelief, slowly baring his teeth as his thin tail snapped behind him like a whip. It was all unravelling. He had lost two of three sons to this misbegotten rock, entire Prides were being slaughtered by the monstrous Caitians, the transport ships were behind schedule, the Caitian sheep were resisting in masses, and his own forces were stretched thinner than sinew.
And now this bland eunuch is denying him his Jem'Hadar soldiers and their advanced ships and equipment. If Rurid'alok was here alone, he would surely agree; they may have been clones as well, but the Jem'Hadar at least shared the desire to strike back, at making opponents pay for their deeds-
"Father?"
He spun in place, offering his last male offspring his full fury. "What do you want?"
ThirdSon drew back slightly, fear in his scent, but otherwise stood his ground. "Father, the courier vessel carrying the Hunter Prime has arrive, and they are prepared to beam him down-"
Melem-Adu drew up and swung out his fist, striking the younger male across the stunted snout. "Wretch! I am trying to maintain a hold on this paltry planet, with the very Universe against me, and you come to me with this triviality?" The contempt and hate he felt now, with being left this pale cub, something little better than the Vorta, while his more beloved sons were dead, bubbled over. "You miserable pile of afterbirth! Enam-Bel and Hap-Tek, two
worthy
sons, dead! And yet
you
still live?" He struck ThirdSon again. "Why, Wretch? Why can't you manage this one little task without my participation? Come on! Tell me why, you worthless little bastard!"
He swung out a third time -- but ThirdSon caught him by the wrist before he could connect, fury in his eyes and scent, teeth bared and hissing hot breath as he practically shook in place. "Because... I have not been Named... and for the Patriarch's Hunter Prime to be met by a Nameless member of our Pride could be seen as a grave insult, and could bring us all down." His nostrils flared. "Not that you're not doing an effective job of that on your own, you pitiable old fool."
Melem-Adu's whole body tensed. His third son had always been a poor shadow of the first two. Never brave or reckless or even conniving or cowardly. Just... there, in the background. Even females made a better impression than him.
Now... now he openly insulted his own father, in public.
Melem-Adu smiled. "The Hunter Prime will be greeted by Nusum-Adu."
ThirdSon reacted, with unexpected bemusement. "I- Who is... Nusum-Adu?"
"You are. You are no longer Nameless. Regrettably circumstances prevent us from holding a ceremony or celebration at this time, but perhaps later."
The younger male frowned, still holding onto Melem-Adu by the forearm. "But it- a name is usually only awarded after an act of bravery."
His father's smile widened. "You finally stood up to me. No mean feat." He shook off his son's grip. "Don't make a habit of it, though. Go, see to our guest, give him whatever he wants, just keep him out of my fur."
The younger male straightened up, recovering from the shock of suddenly rising considerably within the hierarchy of their Pride, and nodded with gravitas. "Yes, Father. I will!"
As he departed, Melem-Adu returned to the Mission Table, looking out once more at all the red spots representing areas where the Caitians were causing difficulties: protesting, shutting down key facilities, blocking traffic, openly demonstrating. Their conquerors couldn't run things as well without their compliance.
"Well, I must say," Weyos cooed, framed with a simpering smile. "Watching you take the time from your plethora of more important problems, to repair the damaged relationship with your remaining son like that, is unexpectedly heartwarming."
The Ferasan never looked up from the board. He had to make a show, a demonstration of force. If the Caitians were determined not to live within the lies spun, then he'd give them the brutal truth. "Well, I must say, listening to the opinion on family from a sexless creature cloned and grown in a tube, is expectedly tail crinking. If you're not going to assist us in our work, why are you still here?"
"I told you before, Master Governor, I am assessing your performance. How you manage the Occupation will determine whether or not the Ferasan Patriarchy becomes part of the Dominion." He paused and added, "So much responsibility on your shoulders. Can you handle the burden?"
"Watch and learn," Melem-Adu ignored him now, feeling bolstered by his growing certainty over what his next action against these Caitian animals should be.
*
Nusum-Adu. Nusum-Adu. Nusum-Adu.
He kept running it through his head. He was Named. Just like that. Incredible.
As he strode back to the Operations Centre, a part of him acknowledged that his father had probably done it just because ThirdSon -- Nusum-Adu -- had been the last of Father's male offspring, that he just wanted to get rid of him to deal with the new arrival, rather than face the humiliation directly.
It didn't matter. He was Named... and with the same direct Patronymic Suffix, a particular honour! His personal authority, his personal power, had now risen considerably. And those males in their group, younger males who had been out there and won Names and responsibilities for themselves, and who had looked down on him... well, now they had to kiss his tail. And mean it.
