Monday, October 12, 2009

[USS Charon] SD240910.12 || Personal BackLog "Golden Land" Part II || CHO - Sakarra Tyrax

O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our Empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limit to their sway,—
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
(Lord Byron)

If they had drawn attention to themselves before, they certainly did now.
Sure there were a few off-worlders cautiously navigating their way through the crowded streets, watched carefully by civilians and uniformed personnel alike, but for the most part people were too busy to spare more than a glance or two. So, the people from that lloannen'galae ship had received permission to do some shopping and what they called 'exploring'. They better behave themselves. There were more important things to worry about. Dinner for example. And why was no one watching this inquisitive child? She was going to get hurt if… well that was certainly a sight for sore eyes.
Amidst a chorus of chuckles and some irritated glances, the Betazoid chased after his little one, trying to prevent another incident like the one with the bread and the flowers, but Deities knew this child was not only fast but near unstoppable if she wanted to.
And now she was..  oh dear. The crate with pale lavender colored berries had caught her attention and with a joyful gurgle, the toddler leaned over the edge and… tipped over.
A quite puzzled but thankfully not angry looking merchant retrieved the child whose face and wild black curls were now satiated with berry juice.
"Ihor." the little one declared proudly, prompting an actual grin from the woman with the salt-and-pepper hair.
"Aren't you just…" the woman cradling the little girl in her arm paused when she saw a rather breathless male coming to a skidding halt in front of her, his face displaying equal amounts of humor and embarrassment.
What did this alien want?
"My sincere apologies, Madame. I will of course reimburse…"
"This is YOUR child?"
The woman looked back at the little girl with the elegantly shaped ears and noted that indeed her unusually black eyes looked very much like … well, judging from the way she waved her little arms at him, …
The way those Feds were interbreeding, it could confuse even the most reasonable person.
"You should be more careful." she said sternly, handing the child back to her father.
"Indeed he should." A stately looking woman walked up to them, one eyebrow raised in a most eloquent manner. But there really was no doubt about that one's heritage. Was the whole Fed Fleet going to converge at her shop today?
'Seven point four minutes. A new record I should think.'
'Proving my point that you CAN leave the two of us out of your sight for five minutes. Just not seven.'
'Point four.'
'Quite right, Imzadi. Quite right.'
Snorting in mild disdain, the elderly merchant pointed at the Vulcan woman "Not very logical to leave these two running around causing trouble, is it?"
"I am inclined to agree."
"Thought so."

About 12.8 minutes later, the three of them were making their way down another street, leaving behind a woman who had not only been well compensated for the lost fruit but in fact had sold her entire supply of Ihor for the day. Might as well stock up on them since the little one had developed a taste for it. 
"So did you find the one we're looking for?"
"There is a 98.7 percent probability that this merchant will have… no, ko-kan. I do not believe you should attempt to climb this roof. The bird would be long gone in any case."

The Vulcan woman stood in the warm sunlight filtering through one of the windows, attempting with limited success to stop her nose from wrinkling. The scent of the exotic flowers she was carrying mixed with the intense aroma of the wines in this shop was proving quite … interesting.
As was, for that matter, the icy politeness of the shop's owner who now was showing minor signs of frustration as well.
The little one, once again safely on her father's arms, was completely entranced by the play of light on the purple blue liquids and thankfully seemed not inclined to take another shot at exploring.
"What about this one?"
The merchant's really quite striking features showed a small frown now as the elegant Vulcan woman slowly shook her head. Following her nose, quite literally, she picked up one of the samples provided and held it out to her mate.
"This, I should think."
"Holy Rings of Betazed."
A wave of amusement coursed between the Vulcan and the Betazoid, unseen and unfelt by anyone but possibly the little one who gave a small giggle before waving her little hand at a beautiful pitcher made of stained glass.
Leaving her beloved to negotiating the price, the raven haired Vulcan was at first surprised to hear the low price asked by the merchant. Surely, this wine was worth a multitude… when she heard her mate's counter-offer however, both brows shot up in utter astonishment. Was he attempting to buy the entire store and four more like it? Yet his smile conveyed that he was rather certain what he was doing … fascinating.
And indeed, the merchant seemed pleased. Surprised, as his brief glance in her direction confirmed, but pleased nonetheless.
This would require further research. But for the moment, she would either need to find a place that was slightly more quiet than this bustling, exuberant city, or a bottle of the wine. Either should suffice.
[Some time later, USS Bellerophon, Transporter Room two]
"Evening, Commander. Mr Tyrax. Had a good time?"
"You could say so, Chief." the Betazoid chuckled, shifting the child's weight a bit. She was leaning against his shoulder now, breathing softly, clinging to the 'Lagga' she had been given by the first merchant.
"Don't mean to bother you, but there's a shipment of seedlings and such sitting in the cargo bay and someone's been throwing a fit. Import regulations, health concerns, whathaveyou. Science signed off on it but you know them bureaucrats, they want the botanist who ordered them things to take a look."
"Of course they do." The dark eyed man turned to his Imzadi who simply nodded and placed the sweet smelling flowers carefully onto the stairs before holding out her arms to the little one.
"Well, those people are nothing if not prompt, have to grant them that. Where to, Chief?"
"Cargo bay three, Mr Tyrax. And aye, prompt they are. Stuff arrived over two hours ago."
"Not bad considering the gentleman had to order some of the stuff himself first."
He gently placed the child into her mother's waiting arms before picking up the flowers and smiling at the two people who meant more to him than even a Betazoid had words for.
Chief Bonan watched with a father's practiced eye how carefully the Vulcan Commander held the little one with the wild black curls and grinned just a bit when he saw that the girl could barely keep her eyes open. Yup, asleep. Amazing how kids could do that, really. "Good night then, Commander T'Sora."
"Good night, Chief Bonan."
She walked down the corridor to their quarters and felt the child stir in her sleep. For a moment, she experienced a surge of concern. Vulcans, even hybrids, rarely dreamed and if they did, it was usually a sign of distress. There was the temptation to enter that dream, it would be so easy, and make it go away, leaving nothing but peace and comfort. Chiding herself just a little for this possible overreaction, she carried the little one into their quarters and ordered low lights. Studying the face framed by unruly black hair, she felt her grip tighten around the girl's small body. Sakarra did not complain, although the smile lingering on her happy features grew just a little wider and she relaxed against her mother's chest.
Dreams of birds and flowers and a golden sky floated at the outer rims of the girl's consciousness and if anyone had seen the expression on T'Sora's face, they might not have recognized the calm and unshakeable Science Officer. Feeling her daughter's rapidly beating heart under her hands, the Vulcan smiled enigmatically.
"Vakh hal-tor ish-veh."

[End Log]

Lieutenant Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm Officer
USS Charon