[USS Charon, Deck Three]
She caught herself pacing, and stopped in the middle of the room, brows knitting together in a Vulcan frown.
Rather than settling her mind, the attempt to meditate had brought to the surface an abundance of matters she had put aside before, and now all were clamoring for attention at once. It was quite a nuisance.
Although Sakarra had found it slightly more difficult to reach the restful state of deep meditation during the past three weeks, it had remained manageable. Not to mention the fact that Charon's repairs were progressing apace had kept her occupied every waking hour.
Now, with even the last report for the CO finished and the ship slowly returning to normal operations, the young Vulcan found herself with spare time on her hands, and she was becoming … restless. This was unacceptable.
Forcing herself to focus, she cast the meditation pillows one more glance and finally picked up the lyre. Settling behind her clean and empty desk, the raven haired Vulcan cradled the instrument in her lap, and after a few seconds thought, a soothing, melancholic melody filled the room.
Unbidden, the memory of ch`Dabhae surfaced, but this time she did not fight it.
It was the curse of being what she was, that one should be able to fully understand the death of a million, as easily as another could fathom the death of one.
Cold reason said it could not be changed, and it was of no use to dwell on things they might have done differently, even if they could have. Logic dictated that right here and now, all one could do was accept the grief and let it pass. All she needed to do was allow it to, instead of holding on.
If only it were not so difficult.
Supple fingers moved over the ka'athyra's strings, and Sakarra leaned her face against the old, fragrant wood. In a flash, the image of sickbay appeared, and the surreal air of the experience evaporated to leave her with another cold fact. One that could safely be called ironic.
That it should have been an eccentric Rihannsu surgeon to whom T'Sora's daughter owed her life, and whose blood was now running in her veins.
A life saved only so she could proceed and take others, more emerald blood spilled in Charon's corridors and on the bridge, and every single drop etched in her memory with terrible clarity.
Truly, the universe had its very own sense of humor.
With a low pitched, pleasant hum, a light on the young woman's desk sprang to life. At a murmured command, a screen appeared hovering over the dark polished surface, displaying letters and a registration. The USS Guardian was in sensor range.
So, T'Pelar at last.
For several heartbeats, a steady gaze rested on the screen, but it was far from the calm serenity one should expect.
[USS Guardian, Guest Quarters]
"We will arrive at I'Rak Prime presently, t'sai."
"Yes."
"Do you wish to be present on the bridge during final approach?"
"And deprive Captain Bravado of his reunion? I think not, Sakov."
The middle aged Vulcan in the somber, heavy tunic gave a small half-bow towards the tall figure by the window, and were he any other species he might have smirked.
The journey from Federation Space to the far reaches of the Star Empire had been interesting for him; but the by far most fascinating events had been the brief, and from a Vulcan's point of view, outright turbulent interactions between T'Pelar and said Captain.
Faced with a human whose arrogance nearly matched her own, T'Pelar's demands to expedite their journey by any logical means had met with little more than disinterest and occasional sarcasm. Silently, Sakov had to appreciate the human's sense of humor. Although rather crude to a Vulcan's refined sensibilities, it was nonetheless unique. And it had the added merit of keeping the councilwoman at bay, which was a feat not many mastered.
Watching Aiden Bravado and T'Pelar interact was fascinating enough to make up for any displeasure the lady was prone to direct towards her staff later on.
Outside the large window, stars streaked past on a backdrop of utter darkness.
"Will you be contacting Captain Rehu from your terminal here?"
"For what purpose, Sakov?" she did not move from her position from the window, and her eyes remained fixed on the stars. One could have thought the lady in her heavy robes was impatient about some matter, but of course it would have been rude to point that out.
"She will certainly be ... engaged with other matters. However, you may send a message that I should appreciate a meeting with her Science Officers at the earliest opportunity. It would also be prudent to inform Rehu my colleagues have requested a tour of the Charon's sensor pod."
"Of course." Sakov nodded. Perhaps he could join this tour as well; the Luna class pods were interesting even to a microbiologist such as he, simply because they were quite unique.
In a glittering kaleidoscope of colors, the stars resolved themselves into unmoving dots of light, and as the Guardian coasted to port, the looming shape of a Warbird's beak became visible outside the window. What could have prompted the Charon to seek refuge here, of all places?
The preliminary reports Sakov had perused told an even more incredible tale than the previous ones, but even so. They were far off course yet again, and in the middle of a Rihannsu fleet facility.
Perhaps T'Pelar had been correct after all, and telling the Yel-Halitra (Starfleet) of the stakes in the matter would have meant handing the information to the Galae as well.
Above them, a silver shape became visible, strangely subdued with her silent running lights and darkened warp nacelles. A few workbees fluttered about Charon's hull, but to Sakov's sharp eyes there was no discernible damage. Considering it had only been three standard weeks since the vessel had begun repairs, and taking into account the damage listed in the report, the Vulcan was somewhat surprised.
T'Pelar favored the Starfleet vessel with a long stare out of teal-blue eyes and then slowly turned to face her aide. "Inform the councilors I wish for a meeting in precisely one v'hral. And have Kovel see me this evening."
"Ha, t'sai."
So, she was not about to waste any more time.
Deep in thought, Sakov turned and left the suite, wondering if the ripples they had caused by casting a stone into a silent pond would turn into floodwaters.
[End Log]
Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm Officer, acting XO
USS Charon
T'Pelar
Councilor, Vulcan Science Ministry
&
Sakov
