Surefoot The Nist Sanction Ch 03

USS Surefoot, Deck 1, Conference Room:

Commander T'Varik stood at the end of the room, beside the display listing the key points of the morning meeting. Naturally the Vulcan did not need to refer to the display to remember the points being discussed. "The operation to continue retrofitting the subspace communications buoys in this sector of space is proceeding ahead of schedule; given your relative lack of experience with the practical applications of extravehicular activity, I must commend your overall performance with this."

The three cadet squads stood or sat around the room, each of them naturally separated; Eydiir remained standing, though a seat had been offered to her by Jonas when they first arrived. She preferred to stand; with Sasha and Giles away, going to that... distasteful display on Tau Beta... they were two squad members short compared to the rest, and though they were all meant to be colleagues working together, it left her feeling at a disadvantage.

It hadn't helped that Sasha and she had left on such cold and distant terms. Sasha truly believed that Eydiir, given the latter's life spent among the Capellans, a violent and vendetta-driven people, would understand Sasha's own need to see the killer of her mother killed himself. Eydiir did understand; that did not mean she approved. She hoped that Sasha's thirst for vengeance would be sated after this, and that they could go back to being friends again.

"In less commendable news," T'Varik continued. "Chief Engineer Grev has reported that several cadets have been witnessed visiting the secondary hull via the pylon Jeffries tubes. He refused to provide the names of these cadets, but confirmed that they are not engineering staff and have neither a requirement nor authorisation to visit these areas. I can only conclude that these visits are for the purpose of clandestine sexual activity."

She allowed the expected titters among the young crowd to pass before continuing. "These trips will cease immediately. My relaxation of Academy regulations regarding sex between cadets did not include a mandate to enter restricted areas of this ship, or to engage in Public Displays of Affection. I strongly suggest you behave like mature individuals and limit such activities to your quarters, or to your private holodeck time."

"Excuse me, Commander," Gamma Shift's Medical Specialist Bob Beaudine, a strapping Terran with pepper-black hair, spoke up, smiling. "But with six people living together, privacy isn't always possible for... such activities."

"Consider it a test of ingenuity, Mr Beaudine. To continue, the Astrophysics Exams will commence from 1600 Hours tomorrow. Your assessment times will be posted, and I advise-" She paused as she saw Jared Miro, Leader of Beta Squad, raise his hand. "What is it, Mr Miro?"

He rose, unnecessarily, to get everyone's attention. He was Argelian, looking very humanoid with swarthy skin and a lean face, which now flushed further. "Commander, I was hoping you could satisfy our curiosity: Sasha Hrelle and Giles Arrington have left the ship suddenly. Has something happened?"

Eydiir glowered. She did not like him. She never did. His people espoused love and sex the way hers did a martial attitude to life. But his own attitude translated into a smarmy, libertine demeanour, and he had attempted to seduce Sasha, insulting her father the Captain when his efforts proved unsuccessful. She preferred to try to ignore him. Now, however, she felt the need to speak up. "What business is it of yours?"

He gave her a look of exaggerated hurt. "There's no need for such aggression, Cadet. I was merely showing concern for our colleagues. And for yourselves." He looked back at T'Varik now. "With Alpha Squad's first and second-in-command away, I am offering my services as Squad Leader for the duration, to supervise them with the continued buoy retrofits and the Exam."

"You can supervise kissing my hind ridge, Miro," Neraxis offered him, the Bolian's blue skin darkening, as she offered him her middle finger in punctuation.

"We don't need your help," Jonas added, scowling. "Or want it."

"You are proving to be a most invidious individual, Mr Miro," Kitirik noted, adding, "Apologies for my outburst."

"I believe my Squad has made itself clear how it feels about your suggestion," Eydiir finished coldly.

"Alpha Squad," T'Varik spoke up, recapturing everyone's attention. "Regardless of your feelings about Mr Miro's offer, I will make the final decisions regarding your supervision." Now she focused on Jared. "Sit down, Mr Miro."

The Argelian did so, avoiding looking in the general direction of Alpha Squad. But Eydiir continued to glare at him.

*

Shuttlecraft Sureswift, Deep Space:

Giles didn't notice the beeping at first. He was in one of the two cots in the sleeping compartment of the shuttle, trying to get used to the arrangements. The compartment was smaller than the one in their squad quarters, and there were different ambient sounds. And his sleep had already been troubled, given the tension within the small craft between the other occupants: Captain Hrelle and Sasha, who had made awkward silences an art form whenever they were together, and only appeared to relax when they were alone with Giles.

Still, it was a persistent enough sound for him to finally take notice, though he didn't really stir fully awake until he realised it was coming from his case, directly beneath the bunk. He sat up in the dark, rubbing his eyes as he leaned over and drew out his case, opening it and fishing through his clothes for the source of the sound-

Yes, it was definitely his communicator, an old-fashioned model from the previous century: matt black finish, with a flip-top silver grid and a classic minimalist design to the function buttons and round display, which now blinked in time with the beeps. It looked like an antique, but he knew better.

Suddenly aware that one or both of the other occupants of the shuttle might enter at any time, he worked the controls. "Umm... hello?"

"Giles? Is that you?"

His jaw dropped. "Dad?"

The voice came through loud and clear, and Giles remained amazed by the technology, a product of his older brother's office at Starfleet Intelligence, allowing real-time audio communication over so many light-years. "Son! It's good to hear your voice! Can you speak?"

Hearing his father's voice lifted his spirits, even as he continued to feel dismay and guilt over the secretive nature of their communication. "Yes! Yes, I can! How are you?"

"How am *I*? I've been worried sick! Why haven't you contacted us? Why did I have to do it?"

"What? I've sent letters to you each week-"

"I'm not talking about the official communication, you idiot! Your Aunt Lucille gave you this very valuable device for a special mission! And you've not sent one damn report! Are you being kept from contacting us, son?"

"No, Dad, it's not that!" He was glad it was only audio communications, so he didn't have to look at the man's obviously stern expression. "There just hasn't been anything unusual happening! At least, not until now..."

"Now? What is it? What's happening now?"

Giles mentally kicked himself for even saying anything; he just felt so obligated to please him. "It's just- we're heading for the Tau Beta System."

"What? That's not in the Surefoot's patrol sector!"

"I know. We're not in the Surefoot, we took the Captain's Shuttle yesterday. Captain Hrelle and his daughter are going to the Nist's science outpost. Someone is being executed, and they've been invited to attend."

"Yes, I heard about that. And why are you going along?"

"I'm co-piloting. I'm also... I'm also in command of the mission."

There was a pause, and then his father said, "That was clever on his part."

"Dad?"

"Hrelle, giving you that little token of responsibility, make you feel like a big man, while giving him a chance to keep a close eye on you."

Giles winced. Did his father really think that? "It's not like that, Dad-"

"From now on, son, I want regular reports. I don't care if you think what's happening is noteworthy or not, just report what happens, and let the adults make the decisions. Is that clear?"

Giles felt his face flush. "Dad, Captain Hrelle is not a bad man-"

"Son, no disrespect, but you are a wet-behind-the-ears kid, who has no idea how devious and dangerous that man can be. You know, when your brother was just a little bit older than you, he was already serving onboard the Intrepid, facing down the Tzenkethi at M'Kemas III. You could do worse than to emulate him. Start making regular reports from now on, is that understood?"

Giles felt his face tighten, as he lied, "I have to go, bye." He slammed the lid down and cut the transmission. Every time he talked to the man, suddenly Giles was eight again instead of eighteen. And his brother Matthew would inevitably be mentioned.

Matthew: the Golden Boy of the Family. Giles grunted to himself. He'd grown up hearing so much from his father, his aunts and uncles about Matt's efforts in Starfleet. It was later, when he was old enough himself to access the records at the time, that Giles learned that the Intrepid remained in the rear during Starfleet's last fight with the Tzenkethi, never seeing any action. But certainly talking up a storm about it.

He stowed the communicator, brought up the lights and dressed, before emerging into the rest of the shuttle. The Sureswift was divided into three sections: the aft, with the study/dining area, replicator, entertainment unit, and toilet/sonic shower; the midsection, with the sleeping compartment; and the fore section with the cockpit and single-pad transporter.

It was a remarkable little ship, though with the amount of sustained high-warp travel it was required to do when travel via the Surefoot was impossible or impractical, it was little wonder that its warp core required replacing as often as it did.

He looked forward, seeing the cockpit empty, and wondering where the Captain was-

"Computer: small double pepperoni pizza."

"Unable to comply. There is a medical override from Chief Medical Officer Doctor Juliet Ling regarding your food choices. You are restricted to one of the following: broccoli and feta omelette; white bean and herb hummus with assorted crudites-"

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?"

Giles approached and was about to offer to order him something under his own name, when the door to the toilet opened and Sasha emerged, momentarily startled by the presence of the other two there, before lifting up a PADD from the adjacent table and sliding down to sit on the floor, immediately becoming engrossed in her work in order to avoid acknowledging the Captain's presence.

He watched Hrelle look at her a moment, before turning to face Giles. "Evening, Giles. No need to rush forward to take over, grab yourself something to eat first."

"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir." He drew in to let the Captain pass - dragging all the tension in the compartment along with him like the nets on a fishing boat. It made Giles' stomach queasy, reminding him too much of his own household, before his mother finally left to start a new life for herself in some colony on the Outer Rim. He wanted to help them, if only to see someone with a healthy relationship. He called up a coffee from the replicator and looking down at Sasha. "You want one?"

She never looked up. "No thanks." She set the PADD down and rubbed her eyes. "Gravimetric accretion, subspace compression, micro protoplanetary meshuggenah. It's all gibberish now. Don't know what's wrong with me."

"Maybe you're distracted? Perhaps with unresolved issues?"

Now she peered up at him. "You making a career change towards Counseling?"

He smirked, sliding down to the floor beside her, cradling his ceramic mug in his fingertips. "No thanks, I like talking about myself too much to let others in on the conversation." He nudged her shoulder with his own. "You know, there's a veteran Starfleet officer at the front who might be able to help us pass this exam-"

"Cut it out, Giles. You don't understand."

"Then I'm sure you can explain it to me. We have plenty of time."

"There's nothing to explain."

"I'm curious: what's going happen after the execution when we return to the Surefoot? Are you staying in Starfleet? If so, will you ask for a transfer to another ship, or will you stay with us? And if are, will you finally start talking to your father again-"

"He's not my-"

But he held up a hand, cutting her off. "That's not you talking, Sash. That's not the woman who punched out Jared Miro for insulting her Dad. That's not the cadet who stood up to my brother to defend her father's good name." He smirked. "Or the one who probably wanted to hit me once or twice when we first met. Fortunately, in my case, my charm won you over."

Sasha had to suppress a smirk of her own, in her effort to stay sullen.

But then he grew serious, sipping at his coffee before continuing. "You know, when I was younger, I was such an ungrateful brat. My father gave me everything he could think of. He gave me a solar yacht. He gave me trips to the Starfleet Museums on Earth and Titan with VIP access. He gave me tutors and nannies and cooks who waited on me hand and foot, and made sure that everyone knew whose family I belonged to wherever I went.

But that wasn't enough for me. I wanted more. I wanted..." He looked up at the ceiling. "I wanted him to read me bedtime stories, and check the closet for monsters. I wanted him to put me on his shoulders so I could touch the sky. I wanted to go rock climbing with him, or gather autumn leaves, or have him teach me to swim instead of hiring someone. And when I was missing my Mom, I wanted him to comfort and reassure me, instead of telling me to man up." He set aside his coffee cup, its contents no longer desired. "I wanted him to be like the Dad you have."

"Giles-"

"Don't throw all that away. There is nothing you two can disagree about, absolutely nothing, that would be worth losing what you have with him."

She frowned, unable to look at him, as if her tears weighed down her face, as she murmured, "I know. But... I said such terrible things to him. I- I don't know how to make it up to him."

"Maybe you don't have to do anything," a new voice suggested.

Giles looked up, as did Sasha, as Hrelle entered, standing there before sliding down at Sasha's other side. He breathed in and out, drawing his knees up and staring at the bare wall opposite them. "Maybe you don't have to do anything but listen to me."

"Dad-"

He held up his hand to stop her. "Sasha... I'm sorry. I still believe that what they're going to do to Giger is morally wrong. And I still believe your mother would agree. But... you have the right to feel differently. I can't see you, treat you, like you're still the Runt of the Litter. You're not my little girl anymore." His voice broke. "I'm sorry to let you down-"

She twisted in place to hug him.

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged back.

Nearby, Giles reached for his coffee mug and stared silently into it, letting the father and daughter have their moment, thinking about the confession he had made to Sasha about his own father, still shocked at how truthful he'd been.

*

Somewhere Else, Six Years Ago:

Hrelle's voice was almost hoarse. He begged, pleaded, demanded that they reconsider their verdict. There was no point, no justification, in killing Peran now. It wouldn't undo what he had done. It wouldn't teach him or others a lesson. It would serve nothing but their need for vengeance.

His protests fell on deaf ears.

Hrelle stared in worn disbelief at the mob, his voice breaking. "Listen to me... this isn't necessary..."

"You heard us, Captain," Ortez declared, looking both grim and gleeful. "Or are refusing? Are you relinquishing your command over us because you haven't got the guts to do what is necessary?"

Hrelle almost took him up on that. It was too much, he was too tired and hungry and angry and-

"Esek," Peran finally said, drawing close to his friend. "I was prepared to accept this fate the moment the Prophets gave me the vision. Please... better that it be done this way, by someone who cares, rather than an anonymous shadow smothering me in my sleep." He reached out and took the Caitian's hands in his own. "Why are you so distressed? I'm going to be with the Prophets soon! And you'll be stuck here eating terrible food and listening to Krihoq and Nitreek bicker endlessly."

Hrelle felt tears, but they were weak, as he was. "Peran..."

Now the Bajoran reached up, touched Hrelle's ear, while he closed his eyes in regard. "Your pagh, your spiritual force, is strong. Strong and pure. I know how difficult a task this will be for you. How wracked with guilt you'll feel afterwards. You must forgive yourself. Promise me you'll forgive yourself."

Hrelle could feel himself trembling. Of all the burdens he had carried as a leader, where in command of a ship or this band of slaves, nothing had come close to this. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it.

"The vision the Prophets gave me told me much, Esek," Peran continued, whispering now. "You will need your strength, and your forgiveness, because... I fear it will be many years before you return to your daughter, and your life. And it won't be while you're still here, but elsewhere. But it will happen. You just have to keep going."

He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it.

Peran drew closer, allowing Hrelle to embrace him fully, the Caitian's hands moving up to the Bajaron's head as if to cradle it.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't-

-CRACK-

Hrelle gripped the man's body tightly, holding him up, cradling his head on the Caitian's shoulders now that the neck... no longer could. There was a shuddering, as if Peran might have still been alive. But Hrelle knew better, that the shuddering was from his own body; the break had been textbook perfect, the shock sending Peran into immediate unconsciousness, the breathing stopping, and the body would soon follow the brain.

He slowly descended to his knees, guiding the body of his friend, the friend whose life he had just taken, to the floor, guiding his hands to a folded place on his chest and closing the eyes. He half-remembered prayers chanted by the monk, but decided for a simple thought: Goodbye, Peran Sayr. Be with your Prophets. Wherever they were, it has to be a better place than this hole.

"Well," Ortez was saying loudly, drawing up behind Hrelle, "Now that you've finally done your job-"

Later, Hrelle would try and fool himself into thinking that his mind had withdrawn, that it was his body operating on instinct, out of his control.

But that was a lie. He was fully aware of what he was doing as he rose, leaping towards Ortez, baring the man's throat and sinking his teeth into the bristly flesh, incisors easily piercing the skin and the soft tissue beneath, drawing some away in his mouth as Ortez's carotid artery sprayed all over his face.

Ortez tried to scream, but only managed a gurgle as his body convulsed, futilely trying to escape. But Hrelle held him close, fingers gouging out his eyes and ripping away his nose and ears as his teeth tore into him, again and again.

The smell of fresh flesh filled his nostrils, as did the hot blood over his own face, his fur and clothes. He crouched over Ortez, growling steadily as he watched the life spurt out of the Terran, blood running away along the cell floor in all directions, until the heart stopped beating.

Hrelle resisted the urge to swallow the first fresh meat he had tasted in nearly a year, spitting it out before looking around him, growling steadily at the horrified faces of Nitreek, Krihoq, all the others, the men and women who had pushed him into committing a senseless, needless murder today - and ended up with more than they bargained for.