Surefoot 36: My Summer on Vulcan

"Bring in Captain Hrelle!"

Sasha was dragged, manacled and bloodied, across the stained, cracked stone floor of the ancient hall, to the jeers of the armoured warriors on the sidelines, ready for the spectacle of the imminent duel.

When they released their hold on her, she struggled back to her feet, her chin raised defiantly at the Klingon who stood on the raised dais before the banner of his House. He was a young male with a patch bolted over where his right eye used to sit, and the sneer he offered her revealed crooked, yellowed teeth. "So here she is, at last, the petaQ Starfleet captain responsible for the death of my honoured father!" His men roared loudly, boisterously, as his hand rested on the hilt of the mek'leth blade on his belt. "Well, Captain? Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

Sasha wiped the blood from her mouth onto her sleeve, and held up her bound wrists. "I say... release me, Khlaris. Release my hands and let me face you like a warrior, rather than like some animal. Or do you fear me so much that you need me chained up in your presence?"

The Klingon grunted at the taunt, and nodded to his men, who approached her again and removed the restraints - stepping back quickly, in case she tried to fight them again. But she ignored them, keeping focused on Khlaris. "And I will also say to you that your father Athagh... was my greatest opponent. No one has ever come as close to killing me as he had. How close, you might ask?"

She reached up and peeled back the collar of her Starfleet uniform as much as the sturdy material would allow, revealing an ugly scar running from her collarbone to the back of her ear. "He nearly took my head off. I'll carry this with honour, and drink a toast to him every year on the anniversary of our deal."

A rumbling sound of surprise ran like a tremor through the assembled as she adjusted her uniform again, and Khlaris reacted to the unexpected praise for his father, before spitting and sneering, "You think mere words and promises will assuage my thirst for vengeance, Hrelle?"

She shrugged. "Probably not. It didn't for me. When I was half your age, a group of cowardly, criminal petaQs murdered my mother. They shot her in the back, never even giving her a chance to die with honour. And years later, when the opportunity came to witness the execution of the man who led those scum... I gladly claimed it."

She took a step forward. "But... I won't fight you today, Khlaris. I think that honour must fall to my son. He was with me when your men abducted me, and he stands ready to face you."

That provoked another rumble among the Klingons, and a greedy smile from Khlaris. "Yes... YES! I accept the challenge! Bring forth your bastard son!"

"Okay." She turned her head and called behind her, "Shalom! Come here, sweetie!"

The Klingons behind her parted, allowing a waist-high, six-year-old Caitian male cub with auburn fur, sharp-pointed ears, a blunt muzzle and a thin, excited tail to step forward. He wore shoes, jeans and a black T-shirt emblazoned with the Starfleet logo, and as he faced Khlaris, he bared his tiny teeth and claws and gave a minikin roar of challenge.

"Computer," came a voice from an unseen source, "Pause Program."

Khlaris, the other Klingons and the Caitian cub all froze, and silence blanketed the room as Sasha turned to see a dozen young Starfleet officers emerge from a seemingly-empty corner of the Hall, led by an older, dark-skinned Vulcan male with Commander's pips on his uniform, a strong broad face that was, unusually for his people, framed with a trimmed moustache and beard flecked with grey, and bright blue eyes that showed more animation than one might expect from one of his people - unless, like Sasha, one had experience living and working with them. "Lt T'Shul, why did you interrupt Lt Hrelle's exercise?"

T'Shul was a gaunt Vulcan female Sasha's age, with sable hair and a narrow chin, like Sasha newly graduated from Starfleet Academy, only from the Academy Annex here on Vulcan rather than on Earth. She adopted a formal pose, hands behind her back. "Commander Haluk, I wish to formally protest Lt Hrelle's response."

In the group, someone - Sasha recognised it as Lt Luckinbill - muttered, "Here we go again."

Sasha echoed that sentiment, folding her arms across her chest and facing T'Shul; since Sasha's arrival on Vulcan to participate in the elite Advanced Command Training course, T'Shul had become an almighty pain in Sasha's toches, constantly challenging her responses, her attitude, her everything, to the point where Sasha was beginning to suspect the young Vulcan was a plant designed to test her resolve. "I haven't even finished, T'Shul. What can you possibly have to protest about?"

"Much. This exercise was designed to test our responses to critical situations. Your response is both facetious and ethically questionable."

"Oh, is that right, Bubulah?"

"Yes. You have fashioned a false scar for yourself, and false stories regarding its origin and your witnessing the execution of your mother's murderer, all in order to ingratiate yourself towards Khlaris. Lying is not considered a virtue among Starfleet officers. Even human ones-"

"The scar is real, T'Shul," Sasha informed her. "As is the story of seeing my mother's killer executed."

The group went silent at the revelation - as Sasha expected. She had just wanted to come here, take the course, and learn everything she could from it before moving onto her first assignment. As it happened, she found herself enjoying the experience and making new friends among her fellow participants. But she would have much preferred to keep certain aspects of her past to herself, and not be That Girl, the one that people talk about when she's not around.

In the group, Lt Russ, a tall, blonde beanpole of a man who loved to smile, now frowned. "Seriously? What- How did you-"

"The details aren't important," she added quickly. "But I did amend the origin of the scar for Khlaris. I thought, since it was there already, I could make good use of it to build a connection with him." She looked to Haluk. "Would that be considered wrong, Sir?"

The instructor folded his own hands behind his back. "Deception for a higher moral gain, such as the preservation of oneself or others, is considered ethically acceptable."

But T'Shul remained undeterred. "With respect, Sir, it is not acceptable to intentionally endanger civilian minors, such as Lt Hrelle's alleged child."

"Alleged?" Sasha moved to stand behind the still-frozen hologram, bending down and wrapping her arms around him protectively. "He's not 'alleged'! I went through fourteen hours of labour to push this cub out!"

That provoked chuckles among some of the other participants, as T'Shul turned back to Haluk. "As she continues to demonstrate even now, Sir, she is not taking her opportunity here seriously."

Their instructor raised an eyebrow. "And yet, her scores consistently exceed yours. Perhaps you are in fact questioning my competency in administering this course?"

T'Shul stiffened. "That is certainly not the case, Sir. But there is no logic in her choice of program modification. An adult Caitian male accompanying her would at least have been more efficacious in defending her from the Klingons than her manufactured child."

"A cub," Sasha corrected. "They're called cubs. And it's my choice, T'Shul. As to why I chose him, maybe you should have let me proceed, instead of interrupting to kvetch at me like an old woman?"

"I must agree," Haluk declared, facing T'Shul again. "And I would put it to you, Lieutenant, that your failure to see the logic in your colleague's choice does not automatically equate to a lack of logic. Perhaps in future you should consider curbing your seemingly-natural urge to interrupt and challenge?"

T'Shul's face tightened, betraying the relative lack of emotional control typical of Vulcans her age, before nodding and replying, "Yes, Sir."

Haluk returned to Sasha. "Lieutenant, do you wish to restart the exercise from the beginning?"

"Thank you, no, Sir. It's almost the end of the day, and I think I can jump right back in where we left off."

Haluk nodded and silently ushered the others back to the corner of the room, ordering, "Computer: Continue Program Hrelle 4-7."

The group vanished, shielded by the program from being seen by the holographic characters, who were reacting to Shalom's challenging roar... with raucous laughter.

Shalom stopped and looked to Sasha with confusion. "What's wrong, Mom? Did I do it wrong?"

She smiled and tickled the back of his right ear, making him squirm and purr. "You did beautifully, darling; your grandparents would be so proud of you!"

Khlaris snarled, indicating the cub. "What is this? Are you mocking me, Captain?"

Sasha stepped forward. "No, I'm reminding you. Reminding you that you are no longer Khlaris, Son of Athagh, a young man grieving for his father. You are Khlaris, Head of the House of Khlaris. From the moment your father died, you had to see with new eyes.

Your father died honourably, and now sits in Sto-Vo-Kor with all other honoured Klingon warriors, and I swear on my cub's life that I will forever honour him as my greatest foe, and defend his name against any who would sully it.

But he does not need you to avenge him. And he, and you, will not be served by killing my son, or me. Our governments may be at war now, but governments rise and fall with the sun. Honour Remains."

She stepped up to him, right arm outstretched. "'Gorgh ghob rIn e' Sov Suvwl': 'A Warrior Knows When His War is Over'."

He stared at her, brow furrowed, as if seeking some deception behind all of this, even as he was aware of all eyes upon him, awaiting his response.

Then he stepped up to her, clasping her arm. "This War between us... is over, Captain."

Shalom cheered along with the other Klingons.

Then Khlaris, the other Klingons, Shalom and the hall around them vanished, replaced by a large, stark, windowless room, patterned from floor to ceiling with yellow gridlines over black. Haluk and the group approached Sasha, Haluk inviting, "Opinions?"

"Nicely done," Russ noted with his typical smile. "I like a happy ending."

"I want to take Shalom home to my little sister," Lt Lenard, a handsome, dark-skinned human male laughed. "She's about his age and is already looking for a boyfriend."

"Who's the father, Sash?" Russ asked.

"I'll never tell," Sasha retorted, patting the frozen Shalom on the head.

"Opinions related to the Lieutenant's actions in the scenario, perhaps?" Haluk clarified mildly.

"Well, Khlaris didn't disembowel her," Lt Blalok, a stocky Trill woman, quipped, "So she did better than me."

"She did better than any of us," Lt Luckinbill, a slim, freckled, red-haired human female pointed out. "Including you, T'Shul. Didn't Khlaris shoot you in the head with his disruptor while you were in the middle of quoting Interstellar regulations regarding abduction?"

T'Shul did not deign to respond to the question, or the consequent laughter it produced, leaving Haluk to continue. "Lt Hrelle did survive longer than any of you. Why?"

"The rest of us tried to cheat?" Russ suggested, smirking.

"I would not use the term 'cheat'. But the rest of you who requested modifications to the program such as hidden weapons, personal communicator and transporter units, allies in disguise among the Klingons, cloaked ships in orbit waiting to rescue you - none of which were exactly novel in our history of running this exercise, I should point out - chose these to help you escape, or fight, rather than address the problem to a resolution that would satisfy both sides.

These were short-term solutions. Had your own efforts helped you escape Khlaris, he would have continued the vendetta; had they helped you kill Khlaris, in his own House, his successor would have been compelled to continue the vendetta."

"I would remind you, Sir, that I did not attempt to escape, or kill Khlaris," T'Shul announced. "I attempted to address the problem to a resolution that would satisfy both sides. But there was a problem with the program. It refused to see logic."

"There was no problem with the program," Sasha countered. "It was just unwilling to see your logic. To Klingons, seeking vengeance for the death of a family member is perfectly logical, and an accepted aspect of their culture, whether or not we agree with it. You, standing there and telling Khlaris about how he should behave in a civilised manner and release you, was just an invitation to get your sinuses cleaned out with a disruptor."

"Lt Hrelle is correct," Haluk noted. "In her own singular fashion. She possessed the insight to create a holographic offspring of such youth that Khlaris could refuse to fight him and still retain his honour in front of his people. She empathised with him, and employed an appropriate quote from Kahless to help him end the vendetta. This is why she succeeded.

Should some or all of you go on to command positions, you may find yourselves in situations where you might respond with Fight or Flight, and admittedly these might prove to be, if not your only approach, then certainly the most desired approach. But statistically they are short-term solutions, and one must always be conscious of this, and to always consider what is colloquially referred to as 'The Big Picture'."

Haluk relaxed his stance a little. "As you will already be aware from previous announcements, Vulcan is about to commence Wan T'naehm, a time of historical remembrance. Many Vulcans will return to their ancestral homes to rejoin family and meditate on the paths our people have taken to get to where we are now. As a result, many services this weekend will be running at minimal capacity, including our own facilities, so you may enjoy this time on leave. I would strongly advise you to take the opportunity to visit our many museums here in ShiKar and elsewhere. Vulcan has a deep, rich history of which many of you will be unaware, and you may even find it more fulfilling than spending all of your time in the Southern District Karaoke bar I know many of you frequent.

Dismissed - Lt Hrelle, a word, please?"

Sasha froze as the others departed, immediately running all the reasons through her head why the instructor would want to speak with her privately - none of them good - and as the doors closed again, she straightened to attention and announced, "Sir, I apologise."

He furrowed his brow. "What for?"

"I... don't know, Sir. But knowing how easily I irritate some people, I was just being pre-emptive."

He raised an eyebrow. "Very pre-emptive, in this case at least. In fact, it was I who was prepared to apologise to you."

"You, Sir?"

"Yes, for allowing Lt T'Shul to interrupt your exercise, and for leaving open the potential for you to feel forced to reveal personal details about your past that I correctly suspected you would have preferred to keep to yourself." He paused and elaborated. "I am of course familiar with your history, as I am of all the Course participants. I know of the Bel-Zon attack on Station Salem One, and the death of your mother... but I was not aware that you bore witness to the execution of her murderer."

She nodded. "His name was Alexander Giger, a senior operative in the Bel-Zon. The Nist government had captured and condemned him, because the raid on Salem One had also killed some of their people. They invited the next of kin of all the other victims of that day to attend. I... was desperate to go, though my Dad tried to convince me that it wouldn't give me any comfort or peace or satisfaction." She swallowed, still vividly recalling the image of Giger in that execution sphere, writhing in agony as he was being eaten from within by Nist larvae planted earlier in his stomach by his executioners...

She shuddered. "Dad was right. I should have listened to him."

Haluk nodded in understanding. "Your reaction to the others indicated that it remains a sensitive subject... as does the origin of your scar. We will not speak of it further.

I also wished to congratulate you on your success. However, you should know that the psychological and cultural subroutines in the Khlaris character would have allowed for a 35% probability that he would have accepted the challenge and attacked Shalom. What would you have done if that had happened?"

"I would have killed him."

His expression narrowed.

Silently inviting Sasha to explain herself. "I don't say that as some empty boast, Sir; if you do know as much of my history as you say, then you'll know that I already have killed. And not from a distance with a phaser or a disruptor, but up close and personal, using everything I've learned, including Caitian K'Gressir, Klingon Mok'bara and Roylan Aikido. I have the experience, the training... and, when it comes to defending members of my family, even holographic ones, I have the will, too." She breathed out. "But for the record, Commander, I'm grateful that Khlaris took the High Ground in responding to me."

Haluk raised an eyebrow. "If the Khlaris character was sentient, and had to face you in combat, then I daresay he would be grateful, too. Enjoy your break, Lieutenant."

She offered a slight smile of gratitude at his support. "Thank you, Sir. You too."

To her surprise, she found the other participants waiting in the corridor just around the corner from the Holosuite, Russ the first to ask, "You okay, Sash? You're not in trouble, are you?"

She grinned. "Nope. Haluk was merely gaining my insight to possible different reactions from Khlaris. Oh, and he ordered all of us to go enjoy ourselves. Especially you, T'Shul; you have to do Karaoke."

The Vulcan raised her chin as the others chuckled. "I find that as incredulous now as when you have broached the subject the previous eight times. Besides which, I am returning home tonight to spend the break with my family."

Sasha smiled. "Taking advantage of still being on your home turf, huh? I'm envious."

To her mild surprise, T'Shul offered an almost saturnine, "If you knew my family, you might find that envy curbed somewhat."

Sasha almost laughed at what was an apparent attempt at humour, but there was something about the other woman's expression, a feeling barely hidden behind the stoicism. She was tempted to ask further, but then remembered how she felt when her own personal matters were made public. Besides, T'Shul and she were hardly friends, were they?

*

The image of the large-framed, grey-furred Caitian female filled the screen of her desk monitor, as she frowned at Sasha, as if responding to the occasional interference to the transmission from the growing stellar activity. "Are you okay, Grandcub?"

Sasha frowned back. "Yeah, Grandma, why?"

Ma'Sala Shall, Fleet Captain of the Caitian Planetary Navy, nodded at her. She looked down, confused - and then understanding and cursing. After returning to her quarters in the local Starfleet Headquarters Accommodations Building and cleaning herself up following the exercise, she had turned the room temperature down and sat around in her vest and boxers - Hot as Vulcan wasn't just a phrase, she had learned upon arriving here, but a way of life - to bask in the coolness. Now her nipples were peaking through the vest material, and she grabbed a discarded towel from the floor and wrapped it around her neck to hang over her chest. "Grandma! You're not supposed to notice things like that!"

"How could I not? You could poke someone's eye out with those!" Ma'Sala chuckled. "So, still dazzling them there?"