Wednesday, September 9, 2009

[USS Charon] SD240909.09 - Personal BackLog "Out of the Dark" Epilogue - CHO - Sakarra Tyrax

[outside the Vulcan Ministry of Defense main building, Shi'Kahr]
"That's IT?"
"What did you expect, Commander? They're Vulcans."
"Oh, for cryin' out loud, Thrandasar."
The five people in Starfleet dress uniforms (although in Lieutenant Sithundë's case 'uniform' was quite literally a bit of a stretch) barely drew any glance from the many natives walking by, although their raised voices earned them a quirked brow or two.
Huddling together under the tall stone columns which provided shade but certainly no respite from the all encompassing heat of Nevasa's early afternoon rays, they looked a little lost, and in the case of all but one, confused and irritated.
"The question is valid, Commander." The small, hazel eyed Vulcan doctor stated levelly. One could almost miss his presence between the two towering humans, the equally tall Andorian and the Sulamid who by now had displayed an extraordinary range of colors.
"What precisely were your expectations? The facts are clear, after all."
"My expectations? Oh, I don't know, Sutok. Maybe something more than 'Thank you for coming, your statement has been filed, have a good day now.' Maybe I was wrong to think anyone would be just a little upset about losing 23 of your people. Maybe I thought someone would want to do more than just file those lives away and get on with business!" Ranil was almost shouting the last words, making his tactical officer turn into an all new shade of embarrassed indigo.
"What the Commander means, lad" the Scottish engineer cut in before his CO would give himself a stroke, getting all upset in this heat "is that from his point o' view there could 'of been a bit more mention of the Seleya crew and the pilots of them little… what's them called? Vale?"
"D'Vahl." Thrandasar murmured.
"That one. Twenty three of 'em dead, Saints know how many more hurt. 'Cause they wanted to help us. DID help us. And now we're bein' told we canna even talk about it? Gotta forgive a human for sayin' so but that's bloody cold-hearted is what it is."
"You may talk abut it, Mr Donegal." Sutok pointed out quite reasonably.
"You have merely been asked to use discretion in doing so."
"Meaning," Thrandasar said without bothering to hide the disgust in her voice "that someone on Vulcan will be very polite about asking someone in Starfleet to hush up the fact their brand new ships have just stumbled over three warbirds, and if the Romulans didn't already know they had them, now they had a chance to take a really good, long look. But never mind that, Starfleet's gonna fall over themselves to put the big fat seal of 'Shut up' on the entire thing. What I don't understand is WHY. It's not like anyone did anything WRONG, or did I miss something?" she gave Sutok a long, angry stare, but the smaller man only shook his head.
"The purpose of this inquiry was simply to confirm that Seleya's captain made the logical choice based on the information available. It is obvious that she did, so no more needs to be said. Or done, Chief Petty Officer."
"Gods help me, Sutok, but I will never understand you or your people."
Commander Ranasinghe's anger had evaporated, leaving him only with a vague sense of confusion and sadness.
They had all been so terribly polite in there, so completely somber, and they had gone about the whole thing in such a swift, efficient way that it could freeze a human soul.
There had been Seleya's Captain making a brief, calm statement.
Yes, the test flight and intention to test the fighters new impulse engines had been approved and filed accordingly.
Indeed, the distress call had been received at such and such time, Ranil never could make sense of Vulcan dates and times, and it had been clear sufficient aid would not arrive in time.
There had been a 38.7 % probability that Seleya's intervention would give Starfleet sufficient time to respond.
Deemed acceptable.
The fact that said Captain was yet another woman had not even provoked comment from Mr Donegal until it became clear that she was also related to the pilot Thrandasar called "Ohashsu". At that point the Scot had clearly voiced his opinion about a captain who would send 'yer little lassie' into harm's way, which had been duly noted by the silver haired Vulcan male in charge of the proceedings and then … not disregarded. Just, …
'Almost as if it didn't matter. And I still don't even know her name. But I guess she'll always be Ohashsu to us.'
They had not even asked her anything, the little pilot in her uniform that looked much more somber than the warmly colored, almost sensual flight suit he had first seen her in, although this one was decidedly elegant and dignified.
Just asked the captain if she had approved the young woman's mad maneuver and ordered that an emergency beam out be attempted.
Despite the heat that even a native of the Indian subcontinent had trouble getting used to, Ranil shivered.
Is it your assessment that 'Seleya' has made any and all reasonable attempts to render aid, Commander Ranasinghe?
So noted.
Any and all reasonable… are ye people mad?
Do you wish to add something to your statement, Commander Donegal?
Laddie, there's a lotta things I wish, first and foremost that you'd get yer head outta yer …
It had taken a sharp look from his CO to stop the Scot from going off on one of his rants, but his face still looked as if he wanted to toss a caber at somebody.
And through it all there had been the silver haired matriarch sitting off to one side, not saying a word but seeing and hearing all. Ranil couldn't help the feeling that somehow it would be that one who would make the polite request Thrandasar had mentioned and that indeed Starfleet would scramble to oblige.
"But who are you, and how do you fit into all this?" Ranil murmured, wiping some sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his dress uniform.
"Commander?" Sithundë was obviously a bit confused by his CO's last statement, but Sutok simply nodded in that placid, almost philosophical way of his. Ranil found it annoying enough that his facial expressions were so easy to read to the Vulcan, but that even his train of thought was so obvious was a bit much.
"Well?" he almost snapped at his chief medical officer, who took it without batting an eye.
"She is T'Leia." Sutok said, as if that would explain everything. Not that it really explained a damn thing.
"One of 'ese days, doc .." Commander Donegal looked about ready to find himself the Vulcan equivalent of a caber but then something caught his eye and he started waving madly "There's our bonnie lass!"
Thrandasar spun around and saw the slender, long legged figure of the little pilot emerge from the ministry's gates and walk out into the rows of columns "OY! Ohashsu!"
This time, several Vulcan heads turned towards the Andorian, including the one towards whom the greeting had been directed.
But where everyone else seemed surprised, the black haired young woman simply looked in their direction, not shielding her proud black eyes from the sun that shone directly in her face but seeking the source of all that noise with an unblinking gaze.
Ranil thought he saw the briefest flicker of... something… cross her face before she raised her hand, parting it slowly in the Vulcan salute.
"Yea, you too." he murmured "Do me a favor and live really, really long."
"And prosper an awful lot" the Scottish engineer sighed as a patch of darkness in the shade of the columns suddenly began to move and resolved itself into the shape of a dark, tall Vulcan approaching the young pilot. How could anyone not have seen that man earlier? There was a quiet intensity about the guy, a hint of carefully controlled energy in the way he held himself. And he obviously knew 'their' little Ohashsu well, because…
"Oh this very sweet." Lieutenant Sithundë flushed a happy ivory "I did not know Vulcans hold hands."
"They don't." Thrandasar looked thoughtful but grinned at her superior engineer's crestfallen face. "It's called el'ru'esta and it simply means they're close. Friends, family, maybe both. You can still try and ask her for lunch, he's not gonna come at you with a Lirpa. Sir."
"I dinna know you're such an expert on the pointy eareds, Thrandasar. An I would 'preciate if yer kept them innuendos to yerself."
"No boyfriend?" Sithundë sounded mildly disappointed but he was still displaying a happy coloring, it was nice to se the little humanoid had someone waiting for her, even if it was 'just' a buddy.
"No." Sutok looked after the two other Vulcans who had moved off towards the arcades leading down into Shi'Kahr's Old Quarter after bidding them a brief but outright friendly farewell. "I should think not."
"About that lunch though…" Thrandasar gave a hopeful smile "I mean, the Charleston won't be here to pick us up for another couple of hours and I hadn't planned to sit on my hands until then."
"Lunch?" Ranil almost gaped at the stately figure of the Andorian woman "Thrandasar, I take it all back. Vulcans are a mystery but you are …"
"Hungry, sir. And familiar enough with the green bloodeds, no offense Sutok, to know they'll do things their own way and get their way in the end, no matter how I get my antennae in a twist."
"None taken" Sutok replied in that good humored way of his "And if you have a taste for vegetarian Lasagna, there is indeed a most pleasant restaurant…"

[End Log]

Lieutenant Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helmsman
USS Charon

Hashsu - flier, pilot.
Ohashsu - honorific form, implying an expert pilot. In the given context, a humorous term of endearment, similar to the human term "Ace"