Surefoot 76: Under New Management – Celebrities & Fan Fiction – Free Sex Story

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“USS Surefoot, Captain’s Log, Stardate 54891.12, Captain T’Varik Recording: Following our arrival at the mining colony of Scesity in Salem Sector, and the apprehension of the band of Marauders that had been menacing the colonists, we are remaining to offer technical and medical aid to the inhabitants, before we proceed to Station Salem One.

The incarceration of the Marauders has highlighted the need for a Federation Commissioner to provide the legislative authority at the station, a need which Commodore Hrelle has acknowledged, and he has assured me that one is arriving with the Academy cadets who will supplement the station and Squadron crew.

On a personal note, I will admit to a logical level of relief at the end of the Dominion War, and a commensurate sense of enthusiasm at the possibility of performing missions of more scientific and altruistic natures. I am conscious of the number of cadets and recently-graduated cadets who have essentially grown up knowing nothing of Starfleet life but its military aspects, and how this blunt education might affect their outlook in their continued careers… and in their dealings with civilians.”


“Screw you and the horse you rode in on!”

T’Varik quickened her pace towards the Refinery Operations Room as she heard the outburst from Ensign Tori Emoto, fearing the proverbial worst.

Fortunately as she entered and surveyed the situation, she found that no one had come to blows… yet. Emoto stood with her support crew behind her, looking up angrily at the head of the Scesity technicians, a beefy, bearded middle-aged human male in a threadbare ruby-red utility jumpsuit glaring down at the shorter female. “Listen, Kid, you’d better rein it in right now, or-“

“Excuse me,” T’Varik interrupted. As the attention in the room turned to her, she folded her hands behind her and continued. “You are Chief Supervisor Simonson, are you not?”

He turned to her, his expression growing less challenging at confronting an older, more experienced and confident Starfleet officer, but still retaining his belligerence. “Yeah! You want to make something of it?”

“Possibly: I want to make it the subject of a complaint I will raise about what sounded like an imminent threat to a member of my crew.”

Simonson drew back, both literally and emotionally. “Threats?” He pointed to Emoto. “Are you surprised? Who wouldn’t react like that when you have someone like her treating us like imbeciles, like we haven’t been working at this job since before she was born-“

T’Varik raised a hand to cut him off, looking in Tori’s direction now. “What has prompted this aggression on both sides, Ensign? And please respond without profanity or vitriol.”

Emoto straightened up, having regained her composure, though her voice retained a strained tone. “I was trying to explain to the Chief Supervisor here that if he dragged himself and his friends into the Modern Age and replaced the isolinear circuitry in their processors with one of our spare bio-neural gelpacks, they could run this entire facility from this one room instead of having their operations spread over three control sections! But they don’t seem able to grasp that concept!”

T’Varik saw Simonson ready to respond, but the Vulcan beat him to it, still addressing Emoto calmly. “Or perhaps they are more concerned that any perceived increase in efficiency through the use of more modern innovations such as bio-neural circuitry is offset by its limitations: the inability to readily replicate replacement components, for instance? They are in an isolated corner of the Federation after all. Not to mention the susceptibility of gelpacks to airborne infections that a ship-based environment is better able to protect against? Or maybe it was the lack of qualified training in bioneural circuitry maintenance that they would require before we could supply said gelpacks, a delay that they cannot afford now that trade will return? Shall I continue?”

Emoto blanched at that, her own level of attitude rapidly diminishing with the revelation, before she turned back to the Supervisor. “I’m, ah, sorry I lost my temper with you, Mr Simonson.”

“And so you should, Missy! You Starfleeters think you can come strutting in here now after all this-“

“Mr Simonson,” T’Varik interjected, cutting him off again. “Our time here will be limited. You would best serve your people by staying focused on what we can provide for you. Mr Arif, please take over. Ms Emoto, follow me.”

The two women strode out into the corridor and towards an open observation platform, overlooking a warren of vertical and horizontal conveyer belts, transporting unrefined and refined ore to the fabricators or the underground and above-ground storage towers. There was a pungent scent of machinery lubricant and reactive agents in the air, but T’Varik ignored it. “Ms Emoto… Tori… I have plans for you.”

The young human stood beside her, as if they were genuinely interested in the operations below. “Captain?”

“When Chief Sakai formally transfers to Salem One as their Chief of Engineering, we will need a replacement. I am already seeking one, but Mr Arif will serve in that role temporarily. Everyone will be expected to step up and assist, yourself included.

You were field-promoted to a graduated state following the events of the Battle of Khavak. Had this not happened, I would have guided you in your final year towards Command courses. Your expertise in diagnostics and Engineering analysis of alien systems has been well proven, but you require additional training in Command, so that you can learn to take the lead on Away Teams, and eventually reach the position of Assistant Chief Engineer… and after that, Chief Engineer.”

Then she turned to face her. “You will not reach it by spewing abuse at the people we’re trying to help, however.”

Emoto swallowed, her skin flushing. “They’re all blaming us for not being here when those Marauders showed up!”

“Not all. Most understand the circumstances behind our absence, and accept it; they were given the opportunity to return to more populated areas of the Federation when this started, after all, and were briefed of the potential consequences of remaining without our presence.

But for those who have been hurt, or who have lost loved ones in our absence, emotional wounds, however unjustified and illogical, can arise. We must be empathetic to those around us, and not take what might be directed at us personally.” She looked out again. “I am pleased that you apologised to Mr Simonson without any prompting from me.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. I’ve- I’ve been paying attention to the Counseling sessions-“

T’Varik raised a hand. “You need not explain further; the reports I have received from Counselor Auger have been encouraging. But as you will have already noticed, we have entered a new era, and changes are afoot, for all of us. We must be prepared to take on new responsibilities.” She raised an eyebrow. “Myself included. When my nephew arrives with Commander Haluk and the cadets, I will be taking on the responsibility of Parent. It will be… challenging. But I will still face it.”

Emoto smiled up at her. “I’ll be more than happy to assist, Ma’am, if he needs work on his profanity and vitriol.”

The Vulcan offered her a wry expression. “Should that need arise, I can think of no one more qualified.”


Esek Hrelle leaned his head back and purred as his Wife Kami worked her magic on his neck, letting him put his shields up to the chaos around their quarters, while Sasha, Misha and Sreen ran around with all their friends, the gaggle of cubs suffused with sugar from Sasha’s eleventh birthday cake.

Hannah leaned in close to the side of his muzzle and rubbed her smooth human cheek against him. “Regretting not renting out a station Holodeck for the party?”

He chuckled, ignoring the lingering pain from the injuries he was still recovering from following his latest mission on the Furyk . “Regretting not getting a slice of cake myself-” He drew back his legs as Sasha led her prepubescent Away Team past him, bellowing like Klingons, before stretching out once more, patting the space on the couch beside him.

Kami accepted the invitation, curling up as both of them looked out of the living room window, seeing the disc-shaped Surefoot make its slow, inexorable orbit around Salem One, keeping its ever-vigilant watch for danger. Because Danger was always there, always would be there, threatening him, threatening them all, never ending, never ending, never ending-

“Was it really bad?” Hannah asked, snuggling up closer.

He grunted, not wanting to go into detail, not wanting his Wife or cubs to have to know even a tenth of what he went through out there to keep them all safe. This was his home, his sanctuary from all of that. He stroked Kami’s mane and murmured, “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.”

Then his combadge buzzed as his First Officer on the Furyk broke the mood, ready to call him out to finally die. “Papa? Gabba bodda-“

“-Bodda bye bye!” Sreen declared, waving at her bottle as it slipped out from her sleeping father’s paw and hit the carpet.

Hrelle started as he snapped back to an awakened state, instinctively tightening his hold on his infant daughter as he bent forward, picking up the bottle again and sticking it back in Sreen’s mouth, and glancing around to make sure no one had seen him fall asleep. Again.

But though they were in the Colony Administrator’s Office, they were alone, the door open but no one outside. He had agreed to take a break and hold onto Sreen while the search went on for her big brother, off gallivanting somewhere within Scesity Colony with Peter Boone’s daughter Abby.

He never expected to fall asleep before Sreen finished her bottle, but then his sleep patterns had been out of whack for days since his promotion and new orders. And all with variations of the same dream, too. Not that he was going to admit as much to his Wife– his current Wife, that is-

“There you two are!”

He turned in his seat and smiled as Kami walked in, Sreen purring now at the sight of her mother even as the cub continued to finish her bottle. Hrelle made a sound. “Please tell me Mr Gyver has found our wayward son and his girlfriend.”

“Not yet, and I hope our new Chaperone isn’t chastised too much for letting him and Abby escape his grasp, he’s young and still learning how wily cubs can be. They won’t be in any real danger here now with the Marauders locked up, and it’ll be easier keeping an eye on the cubs when we’re on the station with its internal sensors, so no reprimands on Gyver’s record from the Big Commode.”

“That’s Commodore. A commode is a toilet.”

“Ooh, I never knew that.” She bent down and took Sreen and the bottle from him. “Fall asleep again? Have another Dream?”

He frowned. “I told you before, I was just resting my eyes that last time. Same as now.”

Sreen spat the nub of her now-emptied bottle from her muzzle to belch, point at Hrelle and announce loudly, “Papa Seepy Time! Papa Snoar!” Then she made a snoring sound in punctuation and laughed until she snorted. And then laughed at her own snort.

Kami eyed him. “You’ll settle down once we get there, and find some catharsis from visiting your old home.”

Hrelle helped himself out of the chair and flexed his limbs, still feeling the effects of his earlier encounter subduing the Marauders that had menaced this colony. “I don’t need catharsis. I’m fine… and I have better things to do than hang around here. But if Mr Gyver can’t find Misha and Abby by the time I finish talking with Sternhagen, call the Surefoot and have them use their sensors. Or go use those vaunted Caitian tracking senses of ours to find our son rather than pester me.”

Kami offered an old-fashioned, mocking salute. “Whatever you say, Commode.”

He grunted once more and walked around them and back outside, getting himself psyched to find his own quarry.


Misha Hrelle stopped chasing after the furry brown creature he and his friend Abby Boone spotted in the mud-patched rocks at the edge of the colony, to let the human girl catch her breath, her face red and eyes wide. “Where’d it go? Where’d it go?”

His eyes stayed focused on a collection of wrinkled rocks with red and grey ribbons, his nose twitching at the scent. “There!”

Abby leaned in and peered in that direction. “I don’t see it!”

He laughed, pointing at a section of the rock. “He’s there! Keeping still!”

She leaned in, clutching the shoulder of his minikin Starfleet uniform, brightening. “I see it! Wow, Misha, you’re a great tracker!”

Misha grinned; since Peter Boone came back to the Surefoot with his cub Abby, he’s had such fun playing with someone his own age instead of his stinky baby Sister. And now they were on a real planet, with so many wonderful smells, he can show off the skills his Papa and Cousin C’Rash have been teaching him!

“Hey! You two!”

Both children turned, seeing a half-dozen colony children, Human, Tellarite and Andorian, some Misha and Abby’s age but most older by a couple of years. The oldest one, a stocky boy with a pug nose and curly ginger hair, looked angry. “What are you doing here?”

Misha was initially wary of the reaction from the older boy, but his Mama always told him to Start With A Smile. He smiled. “Hi! I’m Misha! This is Abby! We’re from the Surefoot!”

The boy looked angrier now, pointing at him. “We don’t want to know your stupid names! You have some nerve coming here now! Get off our planet!”

Abby looked fearful now, tightening her hold on Misha’s arm. “Come on, Misha, let’s go…”

But the little Caitian stood his ground, staring up at the boy. “Why you being mean? We’re Starfleet! We help!”

“Starfleet doesn’t help!” the boy declared, his face turning russet. “They weren’t here when the Marauders were hurting us, killing us! They were far away, being cowards!”

Misha bared his teeth, feeling his fur stand on end and his tail twitch. “Starfleet not cowards! My Papa and Mama and Big Sister and Cousin and Godmama and me are in Starfleet! We fight Jammies and Fearies and Snakes!”

“Misha, please,” Abby pleaded.

The boy, standing a head taller, leaned in, sneering and snatching the fake combadge from Misha, dropping it to the muddy ground and stepping on it. “You’re not in Starfleet! These are just baby’s clothes! And everyone in Starfleet is a dirty coward! Especially your Fat Dad!”

Misha roared and leapt on him.


“Captain Sternhagen.”

The woman never stopped striding to her domed home, the one he had identified from perusing the Administrator’s office records. “Never heard of her.”

Hrelle persisted. He had identified her following the arrest of the so-called Invincible and his pack of a-holes, but she had avoided him while he was caught up in his duties. He assumed it was just a general reluctance to draw attention to herself. “I recognised you immediately, Captain.”

The older human stopped at her doorway, indicating her grey all-weather jumpsuit. “You’ve got the wrong woman, Commodore. I’ve never been in Starfleet.” She disappeared inside, closing the door to him.

He opened it again, stepping inside to see a cluttered mess of recycled and kitbashed equipment, sitting in a stagnant pond of stale scents. He focused on her as she stood near a table, hand wrapped around a whiskey bottle. “You’ve no right to just barge in here!”


“Sorry, I’m Ruth Sternhagen. You’re obviously mistaking me for my twin Sister Kate.” She poured herself a shot. “She died years ago.”

He crossed his arms. “You never had a Sister. In fact, you once boasted that after you, your parents swore off having any more children.”

She glared at him sharply, before turning away. “Don’t know what the Hell you’re talking about, Commodore. Beat it.” She downed her shot and looked away.

“You resigned,” he continued, watching as she began to pace. “After the Furyk disaster, the attack on Salem One. Why?”

Sternhagen stopped in her tracks, momentarily her older self. “You really have to ask that, Hrelle? I commanded the station. I was responsible for the safety of everyone onboard… including your late Wife. I failed her. I failed them all.”

“You were investigated by Starfleet Intelligence after the fact,” he reminded her. “And found not culpable. You had been overwhelmed when the Bel-Zon had taken our security codes.” He grunted. “They were more eager to pin it all on me.”

“That was a crock of shit on their part.” She returned to the waiting bottle. “I told them as much at the time.”

“I know. I read the original reports. Thank you for your support.”

Sternhagen looked at him again incredulously. “You’re thanking me? Hannah died on my watch! I can’t believe you don’t still blame me for it!”

Hrelle focused his gaze on her and kept her captive with it, his voice dropping an octave. “Kate, since escaping slavery I’ve done some thorough investigations on my own, assisted by the considerable Intelligence resources of the Caitian Mother’s Claws.

I promise you: if I had any notion, any notion at all, that you were involved with the Bel-Zon at the time… we would have met long before now.

And our encounter would have been far, far less amicable than this one.”

She stared back… before reaching for another shotglass. “Why are you here? Apart from cleaning up the trash?”

“You heard me talking out there with those Wolf Pack stroke-offs. They forced a promotion off me, kicked me off my own ship and told me to take over at Salem One. I have a skeleton crew and some gifted cadets on their way, but I need key personnel, experienced hands. I’ve got Security, Medical, Engineering and possibly Science covered, there’s a Federation Commissioner on her way as well with staff to handle the bureaucracy. But I need a Station Master, a Chief of Operations, someone to run the day to day business.”

She poured out another two shots and set down the bottle. “Really?”

“Really. I understand why you felt guilt about what happened, despite it not being your fault, and your need to punish yourself by leaving and hiding out here. But it’s pointless. And a waste of your considerable talents.”

“I resigned, Esek. Long ago. The uniform doesn’t fit over these hips anymore.”

“Don’t talk to me about uniforms and hips. And your commission can be reactivated, with immediate effect.” He tapped the Commodore’s insignia on his collar. “These have magical powers.”

Sternhagen lifted up her glass. “I’m happy here.”


“Really. It’s peaceful and quiet here, with no responsibilities apart from fixing the odd tricorder or phaser drill attenuator. I’m not up for anything more strenuous than that.”

“The colonists here reported that following the murder of their last Governor by the Marauders, you became their de facto leader. You kept them alive. And from the equipment I saw out there on the landing field, you were prepared to sacrifice yourself to save the colony. You can take the woman out of Starfleet, but you can’t take Starfleet out-“

“Shut up, Esek. If I wanted to listen to hoary old clichés I’d go to the Norpin Colony with all the other ancient farts.”

He regarded her for a moment, wanting to reach her, wanting to shake her or hold her or walk away from her. “Okay, don’t come back… permanently. Just come with us and give the place a once-over. You have the most direct, recent experience with the station. Let us know what we need to get up and running as quickly as possible. And then we’ll take you back here. And you can name your price.”

Sternhagen regarded him back, before grumbling, “Alright, already. Do you pester your Wife this badly?”

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