Surefoot 89 Eight

Jaggel Province, Orion Prime - Years Ago:

"He's here, Sire."

Surinh Dag stopped posing in front of the tri-mirror... after a final indulgent moment of admiring the intricate silk pattern of his new jacket, crafted by the fingers of the finest child slaves of the Ngazorc Province

. I will think of your tireless efforts every time I wear this in public, you talented little sprouts.

He ran a thick hand over his bald green head, noting a re-emergence of stubble, promising to take a club to his groomer for his carelessness, as he turned around and stepped forward. "Well, let's have a look at him."

His majordomo swallowed. "I should warn you, Sire, he is... malodorous."

Surinh Dag smirked, returning to his chair and arranging himself upon it like a bride awaiting her betrothed. "I didn't buy him for his pleasant musk. Bring him in."

A gesture, and then the doors to the anteroom parted, and two guards dragged in a bundle of rags and fur bound together in chains and a collar. Surinh Dag affected a casual air as he signalled for another slave to bring him a fresh goblet, but kept an eye on the new arrival, seeing more than just a broken thing. He saw something beneath, a coiled spring, ready to take its chance to strike out and escape... or kill.

Good, good... the Breen hadn't broken him entirely...

He stayed silent as they dropped the prisoner to the marble floor at Surinh Dag's feet, and as his slave brought him his drink, he held the gold goblet in one hand, swirling the magenta liquid within as he regarded his latest possession. "Well, now, look at what dragged in the cat..." He chuckled, before finally addressing him. "Captain?"

The bundle of clumped, knotted, burnt fur on the Caitian's head stirred at the mention of the rank, and he looked up at Surinh Dag from under the unruly mane, one eye visible, fixed and unblinking.

Yes, there it is... the fire he'll need...

The Orion smiled back at him. "Captain Esek Hrelle, former Starfleet officer, former Shipmaster of the USS

Furyk

... I am Surinh Dag, Sire of the Orion Deathmatches, the most popular entertainment within the Empire. Welcome to your new home."

Hrelle made a raw guttural sound, before baring yellowed, ragged teeth and responding, "Stroke off."

One of the guards drew closer, raising a neuroleptic stunstick to strike the slave in response - until Surinh Dag stabbed a finger at him, snarling, "Touch him and I'll have you flayed."

The guard drew back again, chastened, before the Orion master focused on Hrelle again, genial once more. "Past Sires have played the Patriotic Card, focusing on building and honing Orion champions for the young sprouts to admire, but I've developed an eye for potential talent among off-worlder

kafirlirs

like yourself. In fact, this business plan has let me become very wealthy and very powerful." He lifted his goblet towards Hrelle. "And I have a feeling in my gut that

you

will take me to new heights of both."

"Stroke off," the Caitian growled.

Surinh Dag took a drink. "You will be cleaned, deloused, groomed, fed, healed... and enhanced. We have chemicals, narcotics, nanoprobes, a training regime second to none. We make champions here. Oh, I know you'll resist - I would be disappointed if you didn't - but we'll also have additional pain-inducing implants placed at key nerve clusters within your body, to remind you, only when you need reminding of course, of your new lot in life.

But the reverse will also be true: when you fully embrace your servitude with me... and you will, I promise... you will be suitably rewarded, with food and comforts better than many free Orions experience.

And those free Orions will watch you onscreen, talk about you the next morning at work and on the transports, bet upon you, the Sprouts will pretend to fight you in the schoolyards, they'll buy your merchandise, and cheer on..." His brow furrowed in thought. "Ooh, what shall we call you? 'The Caitian Conqueror'? 'Lion-O'? 'Power Cat'? 'Bloodclaw'?"

"Stroke off."

Surinh Dag shook his head. "No, that won't do..." He smiled in triumph. "'The Beast'. Yes, yes, simple but powerful, a word even the youngest sprout out there will understand..." He raised his goblet again, this time in salute. "Welcome to your new life, Beast. And I truly hope that you can expand your vocabulary with your next response."

Hrelle glared up at him, still growling... before finally declaring, "You... will... regret this day..."

The Orion laughed, not listening anymore, his mind already filled with the fortune he would make from his Beast.

*

Orion Blockade Runner

Green Death

- Now:

Surinh Dag lifted up his feet and rested the heels of his massive boots onto the edge of the desk, resting his folded hands onto his belt as he regarded the image of the human on the screen. "Everything is proceeding as planned, Bastien. We remain undetected by Starfleet, and our pawn on Salem One has been compliant. Has the Galaxy's Richest Psycho left the station yet?"

Bastien Dumont reacted to the remark.

"Monsieur Zorinn has just departed... and I would advise a more respectful attitude to our sponsor; none of us would be where we are without his generosity, and if he wishes to participate in our plans in his own inimitable fashion, we must indulge."

Surinh Dag looked away, signalling Nuvauth, the Shipmaster's personal slave, a petite Romulan child with sable hair tied back to display her pointed ears and brow ridges, to bring him more wine. Then he turned back to his human partner. "We could have delivered the Virus to Hrelle in a hundred different, safer ways."

Dumont shrugged.

"Or, more simply, we could have blown up the station. But then the customer is always right,

n'est-ce pas

? And once our plans are completed and we have taken control of the sector, our sponsor will move onto other interests, leaving us to reap the continued rewards. Speaking of which, we need you to keep monitoring the Kzinti border; our felinoid allies are amassing, but their bloodlust might make them cross early before we're ready."

He reached out and accepted the proffered goblet from the slave without acknowledging her. "Understood. We'll talk again at the pre-arranged time. End Transmission."

The wallscreen went black, and Surinh Dag looked across at the other remaining occupant in the room, unseen and unheard during the communication. "Well?"

Nesrac Sur, Shipmaster of the

Green Death

and Surinh Dag's second, drew out a long black cigar from a stasis box, bringing it over. "Here you go, Sire."

Surinh Dag accepted it, looking up curiously. "Not joining me?"

The other Orion produced a lighter as he shook his head. "Too many bad memories. My father indulged in it too much in his final days of self-pity and melancholy."

Surinh Dag nodded, knowing of Nesrac's father, Daalen Sur, former Shipmaster of the

Green Death

, and frequent nemesis of Hrelle before the Caitian had been enslaved, a relationship that had ultimately broken Daalen. He bit off one end of the cigar, spitting it to the floor to let Nuvauth scurry over as trained to retrieve it, before he leaned forward to let his partner light the other end. "You don't mind me indulging, though?"

"No. Maybe you can help me associate it with more positive memories."

"That's the attitude: Don't let the past define your present, or especially your future. And our future will be filled with fortune and glory. Once we have this sector, the Orion Syndicate will pay heavily to safely transport their contraband deep into Federation space, bypassing the customs and security checks."

Nesrac Sur nodded in appreciation. "You'll be wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice."

He regarded the younger Orion. "

We

will, Sprout. You won't have to remain on this old bucket; you could get a brand new ship." He smiled and pointed the smouldering cigar at him. "Or, consider this... you could even

succeed

me."

"Succeed you? I don't understand."

"Once we take control of the sector and establish ourselves as a profitable business, I'll train you to take my place, working with the Bel-Zon, the Syndicate, the Kzinti, Paserak, Zorin, anyone else who wants to use the Ballista warp catapult."

Nesrac Sur stared, bemused, before taking a seat opposite him. "But if I did that, what would you do with yourself?"

Surinh Dag puffed away. "Me? I'm thinking of taking my accumulated wealth and returning to Orion, and restarting the Deathmatch industry. I have a new idea: child gladiators." He chuckled. "Can you imagine it, watching little Sprouts too young to have hair on their

cuksirs

trained, armed, and fighting each other to the death? And we'll definitely use children of other races. And when they're old enough, I can sell them off as private bodyguards... or whatever else their owners want from them."

Nesrac Sur frowned. "Sprout Gladiators?" He shook his head. "I don't know. The winds are changing back on the Homeworld. The new Supremor has already banned Deathmatches, and is trying to abolish the slave trade, in order to open up formal trade agreements with the Federation, the Ferengi. And the idea's gaining popularity-"

"I've heard that song before; he won't be the first Imperial Ruler to find a Syndicate knife in his back for stirring up trouble." He paused, taking another drag and blowing out the smoke thoughtfully. "According to the stolen files from Salem One, Commodore Hrelle has a young son, with a history of violence in defence of his family. If he has a tenth of the potential of his father, I could have a new Beast in my stable..." He looked up again. "Well? Have my plans piqued your interest?"

Nesrac Sur smiled, and beckoned to Nuvauth for a cigar of his own, lighting it up and putting his own boots onto the desk. "You trust the traitorous bitch on Salem One to continue to cooperate with us?"

"Trust? I trust Lt Dassene to comply in order to keep her family alive; her Counseling records indicated strong guilt over leaving them behind to escape into Federation space and join Starfleet. That, and her position as Hrelle's Adjutant, makes her an ideal pawn." He smiled. "She's probably sitting in her quarters on Salem One right now, sobbing in despair."

*

Caitian Flyer

Tailless

, Deep Space:

Lt Zir Dassene stood at the doorway of the cockpit, staring at the back of the older, blonde-haired woman in the pilot's seat, the human too engrossed in her work to have noticed Zir's presence yet-

"Can I help you with something, Lieutenant?"

Zir started, before steeling herself and entering, distracted by the dilated warpfield outside, indicative of the advanced propulsion this private starship sported, raising a twinge of envy in her.

"Lieutenant?" Sasha repeated, "I thought you were resting up before the next briefing?"

Zir heard the slight shift in tone - a query tinged with accusation, something she'd heard more than once from the human's Caitian father - but ignored it to continue with her reason for being there. "Yes, I- I wanted to thank you for doing all this for my family."

Sasha Hrelle still didn't look away from her work. "Well, technically I was ordered to do this by our mutual commanding officer, but I'm happy to oblige." She paused and added, "It's not as if it's the first time I've helped rescue a relative of an Alpha Squad member."

Zir frowned at the reference, then remembered the incident when she had turned to Sasha before to help save Peter Boone and his daughter from the Dominion, when the latter had invaded Gault. "Yes. I don't recall thanking you for that, either."

"You did. Can I help you with anything else?"

Zir breathed in, before stepping closer, hoping to get the other woman's full attention and not just be dismissed, her superior rank be damned. "The deadline for when Surinh Dag tries to contact me is less than eight hours away. I know the Commodore and Commander Somerset have a plan to try and trick him by using a hologram of me in my quarters, but we can't be sure it'll fool him-"

"I know all this, Lieutenant."

"What's your plan for rescuing my family?"

Sasha leaned back, taking her hands away from the workstation and looked up at Zir, the human appearing tired. "Don't have one yet."

"What?"

Sasha rubbed the corners of her eyes. "I have

ideas

. The more information I gather, the more solid a plan I can form from those ideas."

Zir's heart began racing. She had felt such relief when Commodore Hrelle had assigned his daughter to help find and free Zir's family; after all, Lt Cmdr Hrelle had been instrumental in freeing her adopted planet from occupation by the Ferasans, and she had earned a redoubtable tactical reputation before and after... even if she was psychologically damaged because of all that.

Zir had expected to hear a plan already formulated and ready to be put into action. Not this... pitiful response. "B-But you picked a whole team to accompany you! How can you do that if you don't have a plan yet?"

Sasha checked some controls. "Oh, I think they'll all be useful regardless of what we end up doing."

"Useful? What, like that Caitian cadet? And the Capellan Nurse? And Tori Emoto? And what about Urad? He's still recovering from his burn trauma! Where's your reasoning behind them? Behind any of us?"

Sasha stared at her for a moment, before rising, stretching and walking over to a replicator unit. "Coffee, Caitian Mnara Blend, black, very sweet." As the order materialised, she retrieved the mug, blew on it and returned to her chair. "Well, not that I have to justify my decisions, but, in no particular order: you're obviously here because it's your family and your people, and you have combat experience.

Lt Mori is also here for his combat and flight experience, as well as his familiarity with my ship and its Caitian systems, which is also the principal reason I chose Cadet C'Riir; in addition to his Science qualifications, he is also his squad's backup Flight Ops Cadet, and he has experience flying Caitian vehicles back on the Motherworld.

Eydiir is here for her medical qualifications and because she's a badass who doesn't frighten easily, and Ensign Emoto is here because she has expertise with Orion ship systems-"

"She does?"

Sasha nodded, almost but not quite sipping her coffee. "Yeah, she wrote a paper on it for the

Cochrane Institute Review

three months ago."

"She did?"

"Yeah. Didn't you know? Thought she might have tapped you for information."

Zir felt her face flush with embarrassment. Yes, they hadn't been as close as when they all served together on the

Surefoot

, but Tori hadn't even mentioned it! "And Urad? You really think he's up to it after all he's been through?"

"He seems to think so; he jumped at the offer when he heard it involved saving your family." Sasha leaned back in her chair. "Oh, and of course

I'm

here because I have a killer pair of boobs. My Girls are the stuff of legend-"

"Are you drunk again?"

Zir shouted now - immediately regretting it. Softer now, wishing she could crawl into a black hole, she added, "I'm sorry, I should never have said that. I know I'm upset about my family, but that was uncalled for, Ma'am."

"Stop calling me 'Ma'am'. Call me 'Sasha', or 'Lieutenant Commander', or 'Your Royal Sex Machine'." She drank now, wincing at the taste of it, or the heat, or both, or neither. "And I don't remember you saying anything uncalled for; I was probably hammered at the time. I can only imagine what you're going through now, having loved ones in danger through no fault of their own. Not that I've ever been that close to

my

family."

She hid a smirk behind another sip, before continuing. "I don't know precisely what we'll be facing, or whether or not we'll be up to the challenge. We never

can

know these things. But my Dad once said,

'If you have to make a plan, make one not out of steel, or stone, but sailcloth'

."

At Zir's expression, she elaborated, "Sailcloth seems flimsy, but it's strong, and very flexible. It can fit on any size of mast and boom with a minimum of time and effort, you can make it as tight or as loose as it needs to be at a moment's notice, and it'll move to the changing winds and carry your ship where you ultimately want to go." She drank once more. "You're not gonna get any sleep before the briefing, are you?"

"Probably not," Zir admitted.

Sasha pointed to the co-pilot's seat with her mug hand. "Sit down. You know anything about Orion Natahv-class Blockade Runners?"

Memories flooded back, a torrent of them, all unpleasant: her flight from Orion on one such vessel, the

Ngoutuk

, commanded by a seven-cursed bastard named Hazaak Sur, a walking pig who reneged on the agreement he made with Zir to get her into Federation space, instead drugging, raping, branding and imprisoning her on his ship, until she was forced to kill him to escape, leaving her scarred and haunted forevermore. "A little. What do you need?"

"I need an analysis of its shield strengths, structural integrity, power systems, anything, everything-"

Zir nodded. "'Leave no crumbs, to get in my fur'."

Sasha chuckled. "Papa Cat still says that?"

The young Orion smiled, despite the circumstances.

*

Science Cadet Hesh C'Riir tried to focus. He really did. It had been a supreme honour when Lt Cmdr Hrelle had shown up unexpectedly, offering him an opportunity to join her on an actual, real mission, with no prejudice to him if he wanted to refuse.

As if he would! Mother's Cubs, to have the chance to work alongside the Liberator of Navron? His parents wouldn't believe it when he wrote to them next! Besides, he felt an obligation to make up for Ange Boladede, his former squad member, who had committed that heinous act against Counselor Hrelle.

That was, assuming he could stay focused, and not end up looking like a tail-chaser in his first Season, while working in close quarters with Lt Mru Mori. He had seen him around Salem One with Lt Cmdr Hrelle, of course, and when they had participated in a private memorial ceremony for those who had died during the Occupation.

But now, in the midsection of the flyer where a Holoconsole provided a flight simulator, and Mru trained in the basic operations of the

Tailless

, C'Riir couldn't stop thinking about this gorgeous male sitting beside him, any more than he could stop taking in the other male's enticing scent. It had been so long since he'd been around his own people.

Especially not bohunks like Mru...

It was insane! Lt Mori wasn't interested in other males, he was bonded to the Commodore's daughter, and C'Riir was supposed to act in a professional, mature manner, not like some clueless cub! It was embarrassing! What was he going to tell Gela, Rachel and the others when he got back? That he spent most of his time away wanting to go off and stroke himself-

"Cadet?"

C'Riir blinked. "Sir?"

The older male prompted him. "The Prowl Drive?"

"Oh. Oh, yes, Sir!" He reached out and disengaged the device on the shop simulation. "Does it always need to be shut down at Warp Nine?"

Mru nodded. "The Prowl will end up reacting to the higher speeds of the flyer, rendering it useless as a cloak. Stealth or speed, not both." He leaned back. "We'll be taking over in the cockpit for Lt Cmdr Hrelle shortly, where you'll have a chance to put all of this into practice. I know it's a lot to take onboard, but-"

"No, no, Sir!" he insisted, still trying to ignore the older male's scent. "We have one of the largest shuris ranches in Mrestir, thousands of square kilospans, and I'll often use one of our own mini-flyers to inspect the property, rather than send a drone. The principles are pretty much the same." He chucked. "Of course, we didn't have phasers and microtorpedoes to deal with the sliphoppers."