Surefoot 04: Sanction

"Captain's Personal Log, Stardate 35276.61, Captain Esek Hrelle, Commanding: the Surefoot is currently engaged in a maintenance and upgrade cycle of a series of automated subspace communications and surveillance buoys within our sector, an opportunity for our cadets to gain practical experience in an extravehicular environment, so we're getting them to suit up and head out there rather than tractor the buoys into our shuttlebay and do the work inside. They all sound keen to get out there in suits, though I suspect that enthusiasm will dampen after they start cleaning the vomit out of their helmets.

On a personal note, I'm feeling... I'm feeling a little..."

Hrelle sat behind his desk, silent, until the computer prompted him with, "Do you wish to continue recording?"

"Yes." He stopped and rubbed the sleep from his eyes and scratched at the fur on his muzzle and throat before actually continuing. "I'm feeling a little distant from my stepdaughter Sasha. I took this post mostly for the opportunity to participate in the Academy's Advanced Work Experience Program, which I knew she was in, in order to make up for the years I'd spent as a captive. And we do see each other, every day, have lunch, talk.

But it's not been the same of late. I'm sure it had something to do with my meeting Barbara - Professor Gianopoulis - on Luntanu last week, and though she said she was happy that I found someone of interest since her mother died, I can't help but feel that this development has distanced us. Sure, she's my stepchild, will always be my little Runt of the Litter. But she's also an adult, living a life of her own, separate from mine. She has friends, goals, interests, opinions, ambitions that I have not helped shape or given her. And I'm happy that she has.

But there'll always be a selfish part of me that wishes she was a child again, riding on my shoulders to get a better look at the Universe, and letting me sing her lullabies at night-

Oh, screw this! Computer, end recording!"

He breathed out, What maudlin, self-pitying nonsense! If Kami were here, the Counselor would be smacking his snout for this! Sasha was a hard-working, ambitious young woman, juggling her duties as a cadet, a crewmember of his ship and leader of Alpha Squad. What did he want her to do, devote all her free time to making him feel less of a dunsel?

His stomach growled as if in agreement, and he comforted himself with the thought of his imminent breakfast. He grabbed his PADD and left for the mess hall, determined to get a start on his daily admin work before his shift started. He might even get a chance to suit up and head out with one of the squads - not to keep an eye on them, and certainly not because he enjoyed the experience, but to maintain his own EVA qualifications.

But that was later. Now... "Two helpings of Terran French toast with cinnamon, side order of crispy bacon, and strawberry-flavoured maple syrup," he told the replicator wall panel happily.

"Unable to comply," the machine responded, sounding just a little too smug for Hrelle's liking. "There is an override from Chief Medical Officer Doctor Juliet Ling regarding your food choices. You are restricted to one of the following: one half-grapefruit, Terran or Rigelian origin; two slices of toast; one assorted fruit cup selection; corn flakes-"

"Shut up." The blush he felt beneath his fur was compounded by the crew and cadets, waiting in line to use the replicators and hearing the conversation. Dr Ling had threatened to limit his choices if he didn't make an effort to reduce his weight, but he barely had time to do something about it! It had only been... well, eight weeks, but still... "Computer, the French toast and bacon isn't for me, it's for a friend, he's caught in a dimensional rift and can't come to get it himself. So provide it. Now."

"Unable to comply."

Hrelle growled.

"Excuse me? Captain?"

He stopped growling to look behind him at Cadet Chaudri, the Flight Conn member of Beta Squad. "Yes, Rina?"

The impossibly-young and slim Terran girl with almond-coloured skin and eyes smiled slyly. "If you order a fruit cup, Sir, I'll order French toast and bacon and we can switch at the table."

"Why, that would be-" But he bit back the rest of his initial response. He had to set an example, after all. "That would be *wrong*, Cadet. The good doctor obviously had reason to put me on a diet, and I must accede to her... wisdom. But thanks for the offer, anyway." To the replicator, he asked, through clenched teeth, "One half-grapefruit, Terran."

"You are allowed eighteen grams of cottage cheese as an accompaniment with this selection. Would you like this included?"

"WHAT?" he proclaimed loudly, sarcasm as thick as how he imagined the syrup on his desired breakfast would have been. "A whole eighteen grams? Oh Bubulah, you would be spoiling me with such gastronomic extravagance!"

To the laughter of those around them, he then proceeded to tell the computer exactly what it could do with eighteen grams of cottage cheese.

A plain half-grapefruit and spoon materialised on a tray before him.

He took his tray to an empty table, grimacing before taking even his first bite. After all he'd been through, you'd think they'd offer him some dispensation to have a bit of a belly. It may not appear too flattering, especially in the current uniforms, but it wasn't as if he was in the Diplomatic Corps or a model on recruitment posters.

The taste of the grapefruit was exactly as he expected, and he cursed Dr Ling with each subsequent spoonful, as he lifted up his PADD and began skimming through the unread mails: further intelligence reports on the Galen Border Conflict, with consequent instructions to increase tactical exercises for cadets and crew, effective immediately; General Orders requesting any available intelligence on some race known only as the Ferengi, who until recently had only been sporadically reported; Signatures required for authorising warp core component replacements when they arrive at Starbase 156 next month-

He stopped at a mail with an unfamiliar Origin address; after a moment, he found it was relayed through the buoys from outside of Federation space. He opened the mail and began reading. He quickly forgot the rest of his breakfast.

And he never heard his first officer approach, tray in hand. "Good morning, Captain."

He grunted, not looking up from his PADD.

Commander T'Varik took his response with typical Vulcan stoicism, taking the seat opposite him, her own tray sporting an identical grapefruit but with cottage cheese. She indicated his rejected breakfast. "Dr Ling had warned me of your dietary change, and instructed me to inform you that I am unable to have her orders rescinded."

He never answered.

"If you are reading about the Galen Conflict, rest assured I have already added the holodeck exercise programs and altered the Squads' training schedules to accommodate them with immediate effect."

"I'm not," he said distantly. "I've received a personal message from the... the Nist Justice Hive."

The announcement almost provoked a discernible reaction from T'Varik. "The Nist? Why would the law-enforcement agency of a non-aligned world be contacting you?"

"They, um, they have apparently been conducting a trial of a Federation citizen, a Terran by the name of Alexander Giger." His voice sounded faint, dream-like, even to himself. "The man had been found guilty by their courts of numerous charges, including multiple acts of murder, theft, terrorism. He has been sentenced to death in ten days' time, on a Nist research outpost on Tau Beta VI."

T'Varik nodded. "Tau Beta is in the sector adjacent to our own, approximately 36.4 light years from our current location; they are studying natural microsingularities in that system, as is a Federation outpost on Tau Beta III. But I am unfamiliar with the individual they have tried and convicted. And I remain at a loss as to your involvement in this."

Hrelle set aside the PADD. "It is apparently Nist custom to invite the next of kin of a condemned criminal's victims to witness their execution, as a demonstration of... justice in action. This Alexander Giger is said to be a senior operative in the criminal organisation known as the Bel-Zon, and was allegedly responsible for the attack on the USS Furyk and Station Salem Four."

He didn't need to tell her the rest, about all the deaths that resulted on his old ship and station - including his wife Hannah, Sasha's mother. His first officer knew the rest.

"Captain," T'Varik finally asked, sounding careful with her next choice of words. "Were you aware of these legal proceedings before today?"

"No. I was never contacted, not to bear witness or to participate in any way. I never even heard of this man before today." He paused, and then ordered, "I want you to contact Starfleet Intelligence, Priority Channel One. I want to know everything about him, and this trial. I also want you to get in touch with the local Judge Advocate General's office, to find out what our legal standing is with regards to a member of Starfleet attending such an event. I know relations have been strained between our governments, though the message indicates the Justice Hive would grant temporary visas for all attendees, but I want to know what our side says."

"Captain... do you intend to accept the invitation?"

He heard the tone in her voice, knew how she felt about the subject. "Just get me that information, as soon as possible." He rose to his feet. "Help yourself to what's left of my breakfast, I've lost my appetite."

*

Space, Communications Buoy 6314-558:

Sasha Hrelle couldn't stop hearing the creaks that her spacesuit made with each move she made, and couldn't stop thinking that there was a leak, somewhere, despite the advanced safety features in place. Instead, she focused on passing her diagnostic tricorder over the areas on her section of the buoy, and indulging in the conversation du jour. "I say he's a prince. A prince on his homeworld. Not with any actual constitutional power, of course, it's a ceremonial title, but it would still be highly respected. Prince Kitirik of Qarari."

On the other side of the buoy, scanning her side, Neraxis grunted. "That has to be the stupidest idea ever conceived. I mean, I love our little bug eater, but... Kit? A prince?"

Sasha wished she could ignore the scratch on her nose. "Is it more stupid than your idea of him being a master criminal on the run from his homeworld? He wouldn't say Boo to a tribble."

The Bolian was drifting away from the buoy, and hooked one of her boots around a nodule. "Hey, he was the one who said he and his government 'agreed to disagree'. How else can you interpret that?"

Sasha remembered. A week before, when they had performed their first Away Mission exercise on Luntanu, their Science Specialist Kit mentioned him needing to seek asylum away from his homeworld, and refusing to go into detail. Since then, the speculation as to his reasons reused to go away. She had done some cursory research on his homeworld, but the only recent relevant news she could find on it was about an imminent war they were about to have with a neighbouring planet. "What do you think, Giles?"

From the nearby shuttle, its hatchway open and its spacesuited pilot sitting on the step like a child waiting for his father to come home and play, Giles Arrington made a thoughtful noise before replying, "It was a love affair gone wrong. He fell in love with a female, he had to leave-"

"Why would that be a problem?"

"The Qarari females get together with the males only for breeding purposes; Kit told me. There are strict laws among their people against relationships between the male and female genders, to prevent one gender from dominating reproduction."

"I take back what I said before," Neraxis declared. "*That's* the stupidest idea ever conceived. You really think Kit is the Qarari equivalent of Darom?"

"Who?"

"From the Bolian epic? Darom and Osega were young forbidden lovers, drawn together despite their families being mortal enemies."

"So, they're your Romeo and Juliet?"

"No, Romeo and Juliet's *our* Darom and Osega, you Terracentric jerk! Why do humans always have to compare everything with their own reference points?"

"Enough," Sasha intervened. "Eydiir, what do *you* think?"

The Capellan was their Medical Specialist and had no reason to be out there, but still needed to log the minimum hours to qualify for Extra Vehicular Activity. She floated down from the far antenna array, as if needing to speak to them face to face rather than over their comlink. "I think that it doesn't matter. I think that if Kitirik wanted to tell us about his background, he would have. I think that whatever his past, he has since proved himself to be a loyal member of our squad. I think it is dishonourable to be speaking about him on a secure channel without his knowledge. And I think this discussion should end. Now."

Everyone went quiet. Then Neraxis picked up with, "You know, Eydiir, you really need to speak up for yourself sometimes and tell us how you really feel. All this repression can't be good for your bowels."

"But she has a point," Sasha conceded with some shame, looking at the helmeted face of her friend. "Don't you get tired of being right all the time?"

"Yes, it can be debilitating. Perhaps if you could carry some of the burden once or twice it would be less so?"

Sasha smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

"Respected Squad Leader," came a new and familiar voice on an adjacent channel. "Friend Jonas and I have completed our work on the next buoy and await collection."

"We're on our way, Kit, just hang tight."

"It would be most appreciated, Friend Sasha. Like the dorm parties back at the Academy, there is not much here in the way of atmosphere. Kitirik out."

Sasha grimaced, then asked the rest of them, "Can we please stop encouraging him to tell jokes?"

*

Deck 1, Captain's Office:

T'Varik presented her findings like any other report. "Alexander Giger is listed as a Federation citizen of Terran origin, born in Mojave City, United States on Stardate 9114.05, but very little else is known or proven: no business, no family, no connections. In fact, records indicate nothing of him for the last twenty years, anywhere. Two months ago, the Nist Justice Hive reported capturing him on a vessel with Orion registry, and identified him as a senior operative of the Bel-Zon."

Sitting nearby, Kami asked, "Why would the Nist be interested in capturing him?"

"Among those killed on Station Salem Four were two senior officials in the Nist Trade Hive, there to secure shipping contracts in the Banaris Sector. Although their Justice Hive recognises Mr Giger's complicity in the murders of the crew of the USS Furyk and the others on Salem Four, it is primarily for these officials' deaths that the man has been tried and convicted."

"So why take him to Tau Beta VI to be executed, and not just do it on their homeworld?"

"Given the distance to their homeworld, and that a large number of the next of kin of Mr Giger's victims are Federation citizens, this is being interpreted as a gesture of good will on the part of the Nist; their Justice Hive was apparently surprised by the Federation responding to this gesture by formally protesting the execution of one of their citizens within our space. However, as their outpost on Tau Beta VI is seen as Nist territory, they are legally entitled to carry this out. The Justice Hive did share their evidence against Mr Giger with Starfleet Intelligence and the Federation Bureau of Investigation, and it was apparently convincing enough for the latter to make a failed extradition request."

"But we still don't know for certain that he's guilty-"

"He is," Hrelle announced simply, never taking his eyes from the image on the PADD before him, the image of an older, pale-skinned human male with receding grey hair, broad nose and a jutting jaw.

"Are you certain?" Kami asked.

"I looked up at this man. I was begging, pleading to him, sobbing like a cub as his men cut off my tail with a blunt blade, on his orders, while he watched. I won't forget his face." He dropped the PADD onto his desk with a soft slap. "And what did the JAG office say about my going?"

The Vulcan straightened up. "They were not exactly sanguine about the idea, given the nature of the visit and the current diplomatic status between the two governments. But it wasn't forbidden, either. Apparently invitations were sent to other Federation citizens, including the next of kin of the crew of your former vessel and those killed on Salem Four, and it was alleged that some have accepted; there are no legal prohibitions against their attendance. The Judge Advocate General's office strongly suggested that if you do go, you do not go in uniform, or take part in any media events that might be turned into propaganda."

He nodded. "Thank you, that makes it much easier." He looked up at them. "I'm not going."

Both women appeared to relax, albeit to differing degrees, a smiling Kami asking, "Easier? How did what they said make it easier?"

"Because if they had forbidden me from going, I'd never know if I would have gone if I could. Now I do. I've seen far too many people killed in my lifetime. I have no interest whatsoever in seeing another, no matter the circumstances."

"Good for you," Kami grinned.

"A laudable sentiment," T'Varik agreed.

He rose. "So, let's forget any of this happened and get on with our lives, shall we?" He sighed. "T'Varik, would you be so good as to get a cheeseburger for me?"

*

Deck 1, Mess Hall/Lounge:

Alpha Squad carried their trays to the nearest table, Sasha's belly rumbling in anticipation of the delicious-smelling bowl of beef in black bean sauce and rice in her bowl. She hadn't eaten breakfast in anticipation of her EVA work that morning, terrified of throwing up in her suit; although the internal systems would have did their best to clean up any mess, it wasn't perfect, and the smell would probably linger almost as long as the ridicule she would have received from the others.

Across from her, Jonas looked to his right and grimaced. "Watch out, Mr Smug Jerk is here too."

Sasha didn't even bother to look up, knowing who he was talking about: Jared Miro, Beta Squad's leader, and for a while, the object of Sasha's affection.

Okay, lust.

They had almost had sex not long ago, when they were on Luntanu engaged in an Away Mission exercise, but Sasha had backed off at the last minute, and Jared said some stupid things about her Dad. Since then, they hadn't so much as exchanged two words together, in those few times when their two squads met together. "Forget about him. I've moved on."

"Well, he's not doing the same about you," Giles informed them. "According to Rina, he can't get through a day without mentioning you at least once. He's pissing them off."

Eydiir looked at him. "You seem incapable of doing the same about Cadet Chaudri. You are always talking about her."

"We're both helmsmen, we take the same courses, study together. So what?"

"So nothing. I am merely pointing out the hypocrisy of constantly speaking about someone who complains about someone else constantly speaking about someone."

Giles blinked and looked to the others. "Can somebody put that last sentence into a readable diagram so I can understand it?"

"I would be delighted to, Friend Giles," Kit offered, setting aside his plate of beetles and grabbing his PADD.

Neraxis nudged Jonas beside her. "See what you started? There's some weird love pentangle going on here." She looked over at Sasha. "Sash- Hey, Sash, what's wrong?"

The others stopped what they were doing when they saw the expression on their Squad Leader's face, as she perused her own PADD, her lunch forgotten.