Surefoot 01:

USS Surefoot, Deck 2 - Cadets' Quarters

Alpha Squad's quarters were unevenly bisected, with the smaller side taken up by three sets of bunk beds and storage spaces for each occupant, and the larger side side by a desks, chairs, information and entertainment wall screens, and the door to the corridor, and the door to the twin toilets, sinks and sonic showers.

"I only had to share with one person back at the Academy," Neraxis groused, sitting on a bean bag on the floor, her boots and socks removed, rubbing her toes. "Now it's six?"

"The Academy is planetbound, spread out over many hectares of area in San Francisco," Jonas reminded her, sitting nearby perusing the files on the desk terminal. "Space is at a premium on these older, smaller vessels."

"And it promotes teamwork," Sasha added distractedly, glancing through the entrance to the sleeping area, where Eydiir was occupying herself. She had been distant, silent, even more so than usual, since their arrival, and Sasha couldn't figure out why. "We work the same shifts, learn to compromise, not hog the sonic showers, all that."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," the Bolian assured them. "I grew up with six brothers and two sisters. I just hope the head in there can handle what I have to offer." She straightened out one blue foot and nudged Jonas in the rear. "Hey, you want to share a bunk with me, Scrappy?"

"Me? Why me?"

"You're lighter, you're less likely to rock the framework at night when you're having a good hard think about Commander T'Varik."

"What? Why would the bunk rock if I was-" He blushed beetroot and looked away again. "Don't know what that means."

Neraxis grinned. "Like I said, six brothers."

"This isn't right."

Sasha's attention turned to Giles as he spoke again, still sitting in the other side of the room, face still abject as it had been since he arrived and found out not only he was bunking with her - but that she was the Squad Leader. "To be fair, T'Varik warned you."

"But my Major's Command."

"And your Minor is Flight Control, like you told us when you were peacocking about on the transport. Every squad needs a member from one of the six Majors. And we needed a pilot on our squad for Away Team missions and simulations."

He looked up at her, sneering. "I bet you're loving this. Being on Daddy's ship, being made Squad Leader."

"Weren't you the one walking around before crowing about how you'd be made Squad Leader and get posted on your aunt's ship?"

"That was different! It's clear who would make the better leader!"

"Watch your attitude there, Giles," Neraxis warned mildly, "Or you'll end up on the Naughty Step again."

"Stay out of this, Bolian! What would someone in Security know about career progression? Your job is to give up your life for everyone else around you!"

"I can make exceptions," she assured him, grinning.

There was a loud, deliberate snapping of a case being shut from the other room. Sasha and Neraxis exchanged glances, before Sasha bit the proverbial bullet and entered. The tall, dark-skinned Capellan kept her back to everyone, standing there, doing nothing but holding her kligat, a wicked three-bladed throwing weapon from her homeworld; though the girl was studying medicine, she remained as formidable as any other member of her people.

"What's wrong, Eydiir? What did I do?"

"Nothing." She set the weapon down on an adjacent table.

"Come on, friend. Dishonesty is not your way."

Now she spun around, her face one of taut anger. "I told Giles Arrington that I would not abide nepotism or favouritism. Do you think I will abide it from my friend?"

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

"This ship! Your father's ship! And your position in the squad! Do not tell me it is a coincidence! Even that fool Giles realises it!"

From the other room, Giles' voice called out, "You know I can hear you in there?"

Sasha ignored him. "You think I knew about this? It was as much a surprise to me as to the rest of us!"

"Are you saying you don't want to be here?"

"Of course I want to be here! I want to be with my father! Is that so wrong? I spent six terrible years thinking he was dead along with my Mom! And then the Universe gave him back to me! As for my position, I earned it! You know I earned it before anyone even knew he was still alive, before he ever got this command! You can't compare me to that idiot out there!"

"I can still hear you!" Giles reminded them.

Sasha couldn't believe this was a conversation she was having with her best friend. After all they had gone through to get here! She wanted to cry. She chose to fuel her anger instead. "Look, you can believe me or not, but I swear, you continue to stomp about in here and spoil it for the rest of us, I'll hit you so many times you'll swear you're surrounded!"

Eydiir scowled, hands balled into fists - but then, just as quickly as it had started, it ended, with her offering a relaxed posture. "I believe you."

"And another- wait, what?"

The Capellan embraced her warmly and roughly. "I needed to see the truth in the fire of your eyes. I have done so. Forgive my doubts." She straightened up formally. "If you wish, you may strike me, and I promise not to kill you for it."

Sasha stared, feeling her temper settle again. "Maybe later."

"If you two have kissed and made up," Neraxis called in, "You'd better get back in here."

Curious, the girls returned, to see Giles halfway out the door, leaving it open as he looked back at them. "I'm not putting up with this. I'm getting this straightened out once and for all."

"Giles-"

"This isn't right, and this isn't fair."

"I agree," Sasha said, taking him and some of the others by surprise. But she had to stay calm, and had to try and reach him; he was a member of her squad, like it or not, and she felt a responsibility towards him. "And I'd probably be feeling the same way as you do. But think about it: how will Commander T'Varik react if you storm up to her now and tell her she made a mistake? She's not exactly a fan of impulsive behaviour."

That gave him pause, though he still asked challengingly, "And what would you do?"

"Me? I'd do everything by the book. Make a formal, respectful query about the reasons why I got it and you didn't. It will also demonstrate your professionalism."

That actually seemed to sink into his brain. He pursed his lips and nodded. "Maybe you're right."

"And..." she added, though she didn't expect to hear herself saying it, "I can accompany you and support your request for answers."

He blinked, paling. "You'd do that?"

"Yes. You are on my team. I support my teammates."

Just then, a newcomer announced, "Excuse me, please."

All eyes turned to the new arrival in the still-open doorway: a slender, hairless humanoid with smooth lime-green skin patched in blues and purples within the wattles under his extended face, wattles extending down to his flat chest, necessitating a cosmetic adjustment to his uniform. He had large red eyes with black vertical slits, open nostrils that flexed with each breath, and webbing on his long, slender fingers, which he now brought together in a self-clasp after setting down his bag. His voice was mild, like someone always commenting on the lovely weather. "Forgive my lateness in arriving, I was required to visit the Chief Medical Officer first."

Sasha smiled; she'd been reading up about the last member of their squad, and in fact had seen him onboard the transport, but never approached him. Now she did, imitating the clasping gesture. "We Stand Together, Kitirik Abyss Zuinthinem, uh... Emijiz." She hoped she'd said it correctly, not having had much time to memorise it after reading his biofile in the squad roster.

The newcomers throat rapidly shifted in colour, and his eyes brightened as he lowered his arms. "We Stand Together. You honour me! Thank you! I am filled with delight!"

Sasha lowered her hands as well, grinning; he was like a puppy out on its first walk. "Did I get the name right? I was practising it in my head but wasn't sure."

"Very much so! Although if it is easier, I accede to answer to Kitirik alone, or even Kit. I am told that Kit is very charming." He beamed at the very notion.

"It is, Kit. I'm Sasha Hrelle, Squad Leader." She ignored the reaction from Giles as she introduced the others; as she proceeded, Kit clasped his hands together again and nodded to all of them.

"Bring any brandy with you?" Giles asked ruefully. "Could do with some."

Kit looked to him, confused. "Forgive me, Respected Colleague, I did not know I was supposed to."

"You know he's not Saurian, don't you?" Sasha pointed out.

Giles flushed. "Oh, uh, sorry."

"Way to be racist there, Sport," Neraxis chuckled. "Do all reptoids look alike to you?"

Kit turned to him. "No offence is received, I can assure you. I am Qarari."

"They're a non-Federation world," Sasha noted to the others. "First contacted ten years ago; talks are ongoing now about their joining the Federation. And Kit is the first of his race to join Starfleet."

"Yes, indeed, Respected Squad Leader. Thank you for honouring me in this way."

She smiled. "I'm a quick learner. Guys, the party is in an hour; I figure that'll give us time to choose our beds, unpack and unwind, maybe even get a look at a map so we don't get lost." She looked to Eydiir. "You want the top or the bottom?"

"Top; I can watch for enemies better."

"Right. And I believe Neraxis has claimed the second one with Jonas."

The Bolian grinned at Kit, nudging Jonas again as she joked, "He's my husband."

"Not really," Sasha clarified, seeing Kit's - and Jonas' - reaction. "So that leaves you and Giles."

Kit turned to Giles. "I will gladly accept either bunk, Respected Colleague."

Giles, for his part, shrugged and picked up his bag. "It doesn't matter to me. I don't think this day could get worse."

Neraxis chuckled. "Giles, you gotta stop saying things like that. The Universe loves a challenge."

Sasha tended to agree, but kept silent. Giles was already worked up without her adding to it.

*

Deck 1, Mess Hall/Lounge:

"Oh, I don't think I like the look of you."

T'Varik paused, while Hrelle just looked amused. The gathering wasn't just a chance for the cadets to meet and greet the officers and crew of their new ship, but also for T'Varik. She had never served onboard a starship before, her entire career having been centred around the Academy.

He probably should have warned her beforehand about Chief Petty Officer Grev, in charge of Engineering. He was a Tellarite, a short humanoid with a snout, fur, hoof-like hands with just three fingers each, and deep-set eyes surrounded by rough skin. And for Tellarites, arguing was a sport; when meeting a new person they would start off by complaining to them, but if there was nothing to complain about they would simply resort to insulting the other - as he just did to T'Varik.

But before he could mollify the situation, the Vulcan straightened up a little more and replied with, "Were you assigned to this vessel because you are as old and decrepit as it, and Starfleet thought you would feel at home?"

Grev grunted, approving. "Pleasure to meet you, Commander."

"And you, Chief." She turned as she noticed members of Alpha Squad mingling, and motioned for one of them to draw closer. "Mr Ostrow, this is CPO Grev, who will be your supervisor and instructor. Chief Grev, this is Engineering Crewman Jonas Ostrow. Mr Ostrow, I should warn you that Tellarites-"

Jonas stared directly at the Tellarite and finished with, "-Stink like a zertith pelt left in the sun too long. The smell must be awful in Engineering."

Grev laughed uproariously, clamping a thick hand on Ostrow's shoulder. "He understands the Banter!"

Jonas beamed. "My Mom works with Tellarites in her salvage company. I grew up around them. Despite that, somehow I still managed to learn something."

Grev's beady black eyes fixed on Hrelle. "Ooh, I like him!" Guiding Ostrow away, he promised, "Come on, meet the others."

Hrelle tried not to laugh as they departed. Elsewhere, he saw Neraxis Nemm with Security Chief Lt. Abed, a tall, robust-looking Terran with bronzed skin, short sable hair and beard, and a love for a lamb phall dish that the Bolian was currently spicing up with chilli sauce.

Then there was the Chief Medical Officer Dr Ling, a Terran woman of Asian descent, with a flat face, narrow chin, and a stony demeanour that could put a Horta to shame. But her meeting with the equally implacable Eydiir Daughter-of-Kaas took both women to a corner of the room to bask in their mutual taciturnity.

And the Qarari Science cadet, Kitirik, was chatting excitedly to her supervisor and instructor, the ship's Counselor, Kami Shall, who seemed equally charmed by the newcomer.

Hrelle frowned to himself as he looked at Kami. In the weeks since taking command of the Surefoot, he found himself getting along well with all of his small crew, just as he was getting used to being a Captain again, and just about everything else.

But Kami was different... they didn't have Counselors onboard ships back in his day, though it was understandable that given his circumstances he would have to see her as a patient on a regular basis, just as she was there for the cadets, monitoring their mental and emotional health while they were participating in the AWE Program.

She was Caitian, too, the first one he'd seen in years: middle-aged, with distracting curves and a full mane of honey-blonde hair and darker fur, who preferred the minidress version of the new uniforms to allow her tail free access, as well as going barefoot to accommodate their people's particular foot structure. As for her scent...

"Is there a problem, Captain?" T'Varik asked.

He pulled himself from the distraction. "Mmm? Oh, uh, I think something's up between Sasha and Giles."

"'Up'? For good or ill?"

"I'm not sure yet. They don't seem to be at each other's throats."

"Indeed? I must confess to the notion that I might have erred in assigning him to Alpha Squad."

"Erred? You?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I believe I stated 'might'."

As if hearing them, the two cadets approached. Hrelle couldn't contain his delight at seeing her, though this time he did manage not to reach out and pull her in for another fatherly embrace. He did offer a nod at Giles, when Sasha spoke. "Sir, Ma'am, Mr Arrington and I would respectfully request clarification as to why I was selected for Squad Leader and he wasn't."

"Crewmen," T'Varik replied. "This social gathering is an inappropriate venue for this discussion-"

"Commander," Sasha interrupted. "With all due respect, Alpha Squad is scheduled to start our first work shift at 0800 tomorrow. It would be logical to settle any outstanding matters in order to maximise efficiency."

T'Varik gave her a look that Hrelle would have called amused derision at anyone trying to apply logic against a Vulcan -- that is, if any Vulcan would ever admit to expressing such emotion. "Very well, if you are comfortable discussing this here..."

She turned to Giles, folding her hands behind her back. "Mr Arrington, your Leadership scores are indeed high, as are Ms Hrelle's. However, she exceeds your scores in terms of Maturity, Empathy, Interspecies Relations and Teamwork. Your own scores in these fields may improve in time, with remedial courses and general life experience, but at the moment, she is overall a more qualified Squad Leader than you."

He was clearly taken aback by the bald assessment. "That- That can't be true- It's her father's doing-"

"Before you make any claims involving favouritism on the part of the Captain, you should be made aware that under the terms that allow Sasha to serve onboard with her stepfather, it was agreed that I would manage all decisions regarding the cadets, in order to avoid any such notions. The decision is mine, made logically and impartially. You will still study on the Command track, but your practical work will be based in Flight Operations."

Giles face reddened, and for the first time, Hrelle felt sorry for him. He reached for a flute of champagne, his whiskers twitching as he brought the rim of the glass to his muzzle, hoping that the kid would take the hint and accept it.

But he didn't. "Perhaps... Perhaps I can exchange places with someone on one of the other squads?"

"The selection of cadets for this vessel was carefully chosen; I will not create further inconvenience to satisfy your desires."

Now he raised his voice. "No, but you don't mind inconveniencing me, do you?"

Sasha looked to him. "Giles-"

"Sasha," her stepfather said softly. "Go mingle."

She looked to him, and then nodded and departed. Alone with T'Varik and Giles, Hrelle focused on not letting his prior history with the boy and his family colour his words or tone. "Mr Arrington, when you've been in Starfleet long enough, rest assured you'll be inconvenienced. You'll miss shore leave, you'll miss promotions, you'll get transfers to places and positions that aren't even your third choice much less your first or second. Holidays, birthdays, anniversaries... all get rescheduled, because the needs of the Service come first. And rank will mean nothing; in fact, the higher your rank, the more likely it will happen."

Giles tensed further. "I request permission to send a message to my father immediately-"

"Denied," T'Varik said flatly. "Submit your request through the prescribed channels, and a response will be made in due course."

"Giles," Hrelle said, drawing closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I remember being your age, planning on being Captain at age thirty, Admiral at age forty, and Ruler of the Universe by the time I died at fifty. And I hated anyone and anything I thought was getting in my way. I had to set aside the Command track myself as a midshipman and work up through the ranks of Security.

And you know what? It made me a better leader. I learned what it meant to swallow my pride and take orders, to serve, to help me see the responsibilities I had to those who would eventually be under my command. And I think this will make you a better leader, too.

In the meantime..." He pointed to a tall, thin Nordic woman with platinum blonde ponytailed hair. "That is Chief Helmsman Lt. Irina Velkovsky, your supervisor. Go introduce yourself. She's had a fascinating career, and has even participated in the Delos 5000 Solar Race. I think you'll get along well with her."

But Giles continued to stand there, face reddening even more, until T'Varik added, "I do not believe that was a suggestion, Cadet."

He turned and departed, and T'Varik turned to Hrelle as if to speak to him.

But not before both of them heard Giles mutter under his breath, "The Bel-Zon must have neutered him when they cut off his tail."

"WHAT DID YOU SAY, BOY?"

Hrelle's vision had gone red as he stormed up to a frozen Giles, roughly spinning him around, relishing the terrified look in the boy's expression as the Caitian was in his face, teeth bared, nostrils flaring, voice still loud as he snarled, "Say that to my face! Go on, you little runt! Say it!"

T'Varik was at his side, "Captain, allow me to deal with this-"

Hrelle ignored her. "You think that's funny? You think it's a big joke what they did to me? DO YOU, YOU LITTLE BASTARD?"

Giles had paled, looking like he would faint at any moment. He was terrified.

Good.

"Captain," T'Varik repeated, more forcefully.

Suddenly Hrelle was aware of everything again. Aware of everyone in the room starting at him. Aware of the smell of urine from Giles. Aware of the broken champagne glass in his hand, the blood now pooling into his fist. Aware of the fear he saw in Sasha's eyes.

He glanced at his First Officer, snapping, "Deal with this. I'll be in my quarters. I don't want to be disturbed by anyone, understood?"