Surefoot 61: Answer the Call

USS

Surefoot

, Captain's Ready Room:

Admiral Tattok knew how to seem tall. Being of a people that was seen as shorter than most of the freakishly-tall races in the Quadrant, he had long-since grown accustomed to compensating through sheer force of personality. His rank and reputation illustrated his success in that area.

Nevertheless, now was not one of those successes, feeling very small right now as he briefed the assembled senior officers of this ship -- and his own son, Captain Weynik of the

Ajax

-- as to the incredible turn of events of the past day. "The reports from the

Pericles

scouting the edge of the system have confirmed the worst: a combined fleet from the Dominion and the Ferasan Patriarchy swept into the Caitian sector.

The Caitian colonies on Azure Aura, Perigord and Alchemy have been destroyed... with no survivors. There is wreckage on the outer perimeter of the Caitian system identified as the remains of the Caitian Planetary Navy... again, with no survivors.

A Starfleet research vessel, the

Kanaloa

, was in orbit around Cait engaged in shore leave when the invasion fleet swept in; they barely escaped, having had to leave some of their personnel behind. And... a subsequent broadcast from Cait itself has confirmed the Ferasans have decimated the planetbound Militia and seized control."

The group reacted, the greatest reactions from those in the foreground: Weynik, the First officer T'Varik and Chief of Security Lieutenant C'Rash Shall, who held the greatest familial ties to those currently stranded on Cait. The Vulcan T'Varik was the first to respond, more with a statement than a question. "There is no news regarding Captain Hrelle and his family."

"Nothing as yet. But of course, they are experienced, highly capable officers on their home territory-"

C'Rash growled, the black-furred female baring her claws and teeth. "When do we go?"

"Lieutenant-"

"Yes," Weynik cut in. "When do we go? The

Ajax

will be ready to warp in five minutes. T'Varik, you can command here, we'll let the others in the Fleet catch up with us-"

"Captain..." Tattok started.

The Vulcan's face remained taut and fixed on the Admiral. "I believe we have yet to hear the worst of today's news."

The Roylan senior officer grunted. "You are correct, Commander. This invasion has occurred almost simultaneously with another, into the Betazed system. The Dominion assembled their forces in the Kalandra sector, which Starfleet Intelligence had believed was too far from their supply lines to present a major threat.

The attack caught the Tenth Fleet, assigned to protect Betazed and its outlying colonies, out of position on a training exercise. The Dominion met little resistance from Betazed's obsolete planetary defence system, and was able to conquer the planet in a mere ten hours-"

C'Rash stepped forward, fighting as T'Varik and Weynik grasped her arms and held her back. "I don't give a shit about the fricking Betazoids!

My Matriarch's dead!

My family's trapped on the Motherworld, with those Rat-tails threatening all of my people! Why are you talking about Betazed?"

Here we go...

"Because effective immediately we'll be joining the Tenth Fleet in retaking the Betazed sector."

The group lost all attempts at maintaining professional decorum now, audibly protesting, Weynik being the one bold enough to demand, "What makes the Betazoids more deserving of help than the Caitians?"

"I suspect it is not a question of the Betazoids being more 'deserving'," T'Varik ventured, though her voice remained taut. "But rather the greater strategic importance of the Betazed Sector in comparison to the Caitian."

Tattok nodded. "That is essentially correct, Commander. With Betazed under its control, the Dominion is now in a position to strike at the heart of Federation territory, including such core worlds as Andor, Tellar, Alpha Centauri, Vulcan... and Earth.

In comparison, Cait sits in a more remote, less inhabited sector of space, and was considered a less valuable target for the Dominion. Also, traditionally, the Caitians have always been more than prepared to defend their sector, especially against Ferasans. So, no serious consideration was ever given to assisting them."

C'Rash crossed her arms, her teeth bared. "Well, that worked out fricking brilliantly, didn't it, asshole?"

T'Varik tightened her hold on her partner... but stepped forward. "Admiral, please excuse Lt Shall's outburst. The shock of this news-"

Tattok raised his eyestalks to her. "Apologies, Commander, I was momentarily distracted. Was there some outburst I missed?"

T'Varik raised an eyebrow, but accepted the subtle acknowledgement. "Admiral, I must confess to my own emotional contamination to this news. We all share concern for Captain Hrelle and his family, for all the planet."

"Yeah," Weynik agreed darkly. "I've tangled with the Ferasans before. They're savage, monstrous- Damn it, Dad, Naida only just left the planet after vacationing with the Hrelles! If my daughter --

your granddaughter!

- had delayed returning home by one day-"

"I know," Tattok confessed, looking to the others. "And I share the same feelings. And I'd like nothing better than to lead the Thirteenth Fleet to Cait and drive the Ferasans and Dominion into the sun. But we simply do not have the resources at this time to divert to Cait.

But we're not giving up on them. There are operations in place to learn what we can, and see if we can make secret contact with Captain Hrelle." He stared up at C'Rash, awaiting a response.

The Caitian tightened her posture... but then relaxed and straightened up, glancing at T'Varik. "We- We were due to start our shore leave tomorrow. We should have left with Uncle Esek and Aunt Kami. We could have been there, with them, helping."

Tattok nodded. "You have my understanding and sympathy, Lieutenant. As it happens, I will selfishly be grateful that you and Commander T'Varik are still here, as we need all the experienced, familiar hands onboard. The Fleet leaves within the hour to join the Tenth."

He looked to T'Varik. "Effective immediately, you are temporarily promoted to the rank of Captain, and will assume command of the

Surefoot

. I realise that this is short notice for you, Captain, and under adverse circumstances, but I have faith that you will prevail."

T'Varik nodded formally, but asked, "I will appoint a temporary First Officer-"

"One is already on his way," Tattok informed her. "Commander Dominic Murphy."

"Who?" C'Rash snapped, her twitching tail matching her tone.

"Technically he is a Captain," Tattok clarified, ignoring C'Rash to focus on her partner. "Having just finished a long tour as Senior Science Officer on the

Sherwood

, he is due to take command of the Messenger, but they've had delays in their latest refit, so he has agreed to remain at his Commander rank and assist you temporarily. He is highly experienced."

"This crew has enough experienced officers to take the role," Weynik pointed out. "Why bring in an outsider?"

T'Varik folded her hands behind her back. "I suspect the Admiral has chosen Murphy precisely because of his 'outsider' status. To provide oversight."

The Roylan Admiral made a sound. "Your powers of perception do you credit. I am aware of the... close familial ties that 'Papa Cat' has cultivated on the Surefoot. This has served you extremely well in the past, I must admit. But it may also offer a temptation should certain individuals choose to -- I don't know, accidentally find themselves on a rescue mission to the Caitians? -- and I have made Commander Murphy aware." He focused on T'Varik. "Not that you would ever act in such a brash, emotional manner, Captain."

"Of course not, Sir," she lied.

Tattok regarded her, before looking to his son. "We need to return to our respective ships, and prepare to move out with the rest of the Fleet. Captain T'Varik, under the circumstances we'll forgo any formal celebrations of your temporary promotion."

She nodded with genuine, if understated gratitude. "That would be appreciated, Sir."

As the two Roylans moved to depart from the room, Weynik looked to T'Varik and the others remaining. "You need anything, anything at all, just let me know."

"Thank you, Captain." As they left, T'Varik turned to the remaining crew, a mix of old and new, many still looking shocked by the news, both about the invasion, and about their inability to respond to it.

And about her promotion to Captain as well, no matter how temporary?

She reminded herself.

Then she dismissed such notions as illogical and unnecessary. Anyone who knew her would know that as much as she desired command, she would not have wanted this at such a price. They needed decisive leadership, reassurance.

And it fell to her to provide it. "Lt Bellator, prepare for the arrival of Commander Murphy. Lt Arrington, Chief Sakai, prepare the ship for departure. Doctor Masterson, brief the rest of the medical staff as to the circumstances... and recommend an appropriate person to fill the role of Counselor, should the need arise. And rest assured, should further information be obtained about Captain Hrelle and his...

our

family... then I will keep you appraised. Dismissed."

Everyone responded, and then left. Everyone but C'Rash, whose stress was clear even without the psychic rapport they shared as partners. The Caitians paced like some animal in a cage, going mad, her growls growing louder and louder until she let out a roar, claws bared and head tilted back.

Then she bent over, her breath ragged, prompting T'Varik to approach-

-Until C'Rash growled again. "You... You kept us delayed here!"

"Yes," T'Varik agreed.

"If you hadn't, we'd be there now, helping out in the fight against the Rat-tails!"

"Yes."

"Instead, we're stuck here! Helpless!"

"Yes."

C'Rash snarled furiously, "IS THAT ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY?"

"No." T'Varik drew closer, her voice lowered, uncharacteristically vulnerable and emotional. "I need you, Beloved. I need you to forgive me for the circumstances that have separated us from our family. I need you to take the time to grieve for your Matriarch... later. And I need you to support me, with the responsibility I must reluctantly bear, instead of following our shared instincts and running to the aid of our loved ones."

She held out a hand, fingers outstretched. Inviting.

C'Rash drew her paw up, to intertwine her fingers with her partner's, before pulling them together into a tight, fierce embrace, both of them needing each other far more than either would ever admit out loud. Or need to.

*

Capitol Building, First City, Planet Cait:

Melem-Adu, Pridemaster of the Black Pelt Pride and Master Governor of the planet, picked the last of the meat he found on the bone in his paws, before tossing the bone over his shoulder and licking his fingertips, never looking up at the Caitian who stood silently several metres away, flanked by Ferasan guards. "So... you're Renthri Lessade, former Governor of some shitty little icebox of a province in the Northern Circle?"

The Caitian, an older male with russet fur and a fearful, confused expression in his eyes as he glanced at the Ferasans who had appeared in his home hours before and dragged him here, swallowed. "I, ah, I am still the Governor of the R'Trerah Gulf and Archipelago-"

Melem-Adu looked up at him finally.

"Unless you say differently, of course," Lessade clarified hurriedly.

The Master Governor smiled and rose from his side. "Don't look so glum, Caitian. You're getting a promotion, effective immediately: you are the new Provisional First Minister."

The Caitian male started. "M-Me? The new First Minister?"

"Provisional," Melem-Adu clarified.

"B-But- the Electoral process-"

The Ferasan Master Governor held out his arms, as if to encompass the world. "First Minister, look around you! Your planet is in chaos! It has been ruled by a cabal of females who have dominated the government, industry and the military for generations! And now their attempt at the genocide of my people has backfired, but it is

your

people who will suffer as a result!"

"Suffer? What do you mean?"

Now Melem-Adu frowned. "Have you not been keeping up with the news in your little icebox? The Starfleet-sponsored terrorism attempted by the Caitian Militia has spread metreonic fallout throughout the world! Millions of lives are at stake! Many will die, and many more will become permanently sterile, without our immediate help! We have no time to engage in a lengthy and corrupt electoral mechanism!"

Now he pointed to Lessade. "I will continue to supervise the behind-the-scenes rescue and security operations, while you provide the population with a familiar face, to reassure them that we are here as benefactors, not conquerors. Well? Are you up for the challenge?"

Lessade swallowed again, eyes wide. "In the face of such calamity, how... how can I possibly refuse you?"

Melem-Adu shrugged. "Well, you

could

be like the last Caitian I brought in here four hours ago and offered the job.

He

refused, quoting procedure and legislation... and he ended up in the kitchens."

He licked the last of his meal off his fingers, looking to one of the nearby Ferasans. "ThirdSon, find some unoccupied office for our new First Minister, make him comfortable, get him some food, good clothes and females to keep him company." He spared a final look to Lessade. "Don't worry about speeches or appearances; we'll tell you what to say and do. Scurry along now, Caitian."

Minutes later, Melem-Adu stepped into the Operations Centre, now fully staffed with Ferasans, with Jem'Hadar standing guard in the periphery, and Melem-Adu's Seconds, a dozen senior Pridemasters who helped him unite their people in order to gain substantial amounts of glory -- and the spoils of conquest.

Standing slightly apart from everyone else, the Dominion's representative, the Vorta Weyos, remained silent and observant as always. Melem-Adu kept his initial disgust at the effete furless humanoid in check; the Patriarchy needed their auxiliary forces, and their fearsome reputation. At least for now. "Well? What do you think of my operations here?"

The beige-skinned figure turned and smiled unctuously. "I'm quite impressed with the efficiency with which your forces have seized control of the planetary infrastructure." He raised a slight hand and indicated the various overhead displays. "And my Jem'Hadar troops are reporting successes in their efforts to search the former sites of the Caitian Militia bases for survivors."

"Ah, yes, the 'Rescue Teams'." Melem-Adu and several other Pridemasters laughed at that. "Rescuing them from survival!" He began gesturing to the other displays. "Our Orbital Transporter Network will be operational before tomorrow. We are also locating and eliminating those planetbound operatives of the Mother's Claws." At Weyos' expression, he explained, "The Caitian Secret Service. The intelligence data we received included the identities of many of the secret agents, who may prove to be disruptive to our purposes.

Most importantly, however, are our efforts to manipulate the Caitian social media platforms."

Weyos' brow furrowed. "'Social media'? I am not familiar with that term."

The Pridemaster grunted. "Unsurprising, given the strong, homogenous nature of the Dominion. The Caitians are sickeningly gregarious: all soft and fuzzy and desperate to share with everyone else their feelings and opinions and images of their meals and their mates and their cubs' first shits. Through Cynet platforms with twee names like Purrsona, MyClan, Spacebook and Pawprint, they offer their perceptions of the world around them... and they get their perceptions shaped in turn.

So now we are the Shapers of those perceptions: we are feeding them accounts of Caitians confirming the facts of my speech yesterday, detailing past atrocities committed by the Militia and the Matriarch's Tribunal, the war crimes of Starfleet and the Federation... and of course, the Metremia Threat."

"I see," Weyos opined, nodding. "But surely they won't be that susceptible to manipulation?"

"Not all," the Master Governor conceded, "But they will find themselves in the minority, without outside corroboration. We're also restricting and amending the public information databases to support our claims."

The Vorta nodded in understanding. "You will compensate for your comparable small numbers though propaganda, and claim their hearts and minds. Efficient." He paused and asked, "And the Camps you require? You have selected appropriate sites around the planet?"

Melem-Adu nodded back. "Local industries will be conscripted towards their construction. And we're scanning the medical databases for suitable candidates." He smiled broadly. "Everything is going to plan."

*

Shall Clanlands, Mnara Province:

Bneea looked at the growing numbers of clan members who have been arriving, wishing it had not been for such a terrible occasion. Indeed, the last time had been some years ago, at the wedding of Kami's son Mirow, when they first met Captain Esek Hrelle.

It would be like this over the coming days, with relatives, Kin and Bond and Kith, and outsiders showing up, offering their condolences over the loss of Ma'Sala. He had expected more outsiders, people who knew Ma'Sala through their prominent role in the Navy, but perhaps they were more wrapped up in the overwhelming news of the Occupation.

His husband Mi'Tree, ever the showman, was more accepting of the attention, albeit at a more subdued state than normal, regaling younger relatives with anecdotes about the early days when Ma'Sala had courted Bneea and he, and how she described them as 'two sides of one magnificent male'.

Bneea grunted to himself. It hadn't quite been like that; Mi'Tree was always more flamboyant, more lively, but also more likely to get himself and others in trouble, and Bneea, the quieter, more reserved one, would also be the sensible one who bailed everyone out, who was self-reliant.

Oh Ma'Sala... I knew in the back of my mind that this day was always just around the proverbial corner, with your profession. I just figured -- and hoped -- you were too tough to let Death take you-

"Bneea."

He turned, gasping at the sight of the older female with ash-black fur standing before him, a female with a strangely familiar scent and face.

"S'Groaw?"

She grunted, nodding curtly. It had been literal decades since he had last seen her, but she appeared in fit condition, dressed in an expensive-looking mourning dress, her tail drooping a little with age. "Bneea... it's good to see you again."

"Thank you." He nodded back, not quite sure what to say, the memory of the female's last visit to the Clanlands still raw even after all this time. Despite those feelings, he reminded himself, this was a solemn occasion, and not one for clawing up the past. "You look well."

She grunted again. "I feel like shit. Gravity is a harsh mistress on your back, boobs and tail when you reach our age."

Despite himself, Bneea smirked. You're still very much Ma'Sala's sister. "Thank you for coming. I know the circumstances of your last time with the Clan weren't... ideal..."

"That's putting it mildly," she agreed. "But in retrospect, it seems so petty now. All I can think of is all the time wasted since then, and now I don't have the chance to mend the fences with her." She glanced around. "Your daughter, Kami. Is she not here? As Ma'Sala's daughter, she should be present."

Bneea raised his muzzle. "Upstairs, with her infant Sreen. She is still coming to terms with the news of her mother's loss."

S'Groaw frowned with disapproval. "She's an adult, not some cub that needs her snout and arse wiped."