[Chi-ree, province of Xial]
2nd Day in the month of T'lakht, YS 9022
"What if she will not come?"
"Then she will not."
"You are free to beseech her in person, Morvan."
Not at all surprising to the few people gathered in the rural, charming house at the city's outskirts, the male in question scowled and huffed, but finally nodded assent.
"You will send it to Charon?"
"It seems the most reasonable approach, as T'Ylan will be able to route it directly from the station, making it appear as regular communication."
Five pairs of apprehensive eyes watched as Lorot touched a tiny, dancing light hovering over the desk, causing the garnet letters twirling in mid-air to dissipate.
[USS Charon, Captain's quarters]
Considering the amount of destruction, it was no mean feat for the console to light and give a pleasant, non-intrusive chirp. Just one message of many routed to this terminal, but for some reason this one jostled itself to the front of an impressive queue, a youthful bully elbowing aside boring reports and idle clutter until distinctly Vulcan letters danced serenely on the otherwise pitch-black screen.
A poem, no more, no less.
One the intended recipient might recognize, or not. Hardly did it matter, for as soon as she would touch the screen, the words "Day after tomorrow. Sas-a-Shar." would appear in plain Federation letters.
But in truth, the single stave in steheht mode was one every Vulcan child knew, and like as not, every Rihanha as well.
She would know.
Enthrone your pasts:
this done, fire and old blood
will find you again:
better hearts' breaking
[36 hours later...]
The doors opened revealing a haphazard disheveled mess. A tired Shiarrael rubbed the rings beneath her eyes as she stepped into the wreckage that had once been her quarters. If one didn't know better one might have thought it the aftermath of a drunk Klingon orgy. Chairs were strewn about- their wooden legs splintered and scattered into several corners. Her coffee table was now carefully nestled against one of the large window as if she was bracing the window for some impending storm. Beneath her boots she could hear the crunching sound of children's toys as she walked in. With careful precision she ignored the disarray to preserve her remaining sanity and navigated herself into the bedroom where she could gather up Ael and Nnoil's clothes- the restless children were finding Vulcan attire rather insipid.
Her hands sifted through the pile of clothes that had been tossed out of their drawers during the chaos of Ambassador Lamont's command of the Charon. Every now and then her fingers would land on one of their favored attire and she would stuff them into a small brown duffel bag she had carried on board with her. Even a week after their arrival her mind still had yet to digest the scope of what had happened. Part of her still refused to address it fearing her mind would thrown into complete anarchy. Part of her feared the reality. She chuckled and fell back into the pile of clothes- it was a bitter and sad laugh "I have become Riov Irhein- soft and foolish." She tilted her head back to stare at the mess in her bedroom when her eyes noticed the dim blue light blinking against the communications panel. She stood up and walked over to it; a message was already displayed on the screen.
Her lips moved slowly as she mouthed the words of the message- why is this familiar to me? Shiarrael wondered. "Better hearts' breaking than worlds..." She spoke aloud this time- the words flowed out of her mouth with understanding, but why? Why do I recognize this? She closed her eyes and thought on it- repeated it once more in her mind. Finally her eyes split open as a spark of realization ignited in them "S'Task!" She bit the edge of her lip. His words to Vulcan when he departed with the declared...why have I been sent this? The blue glow of the message reflected in her eyes as she studied it. Sas-a-Shar is was the Vulcan name of what most referred to as the forge. It was an area of intense interference...was this a trap?
Even so- it had to be investigated. Her eyes focused on the time. It was sent hours ago, I do not have much time. She pressed her commbadge "Engineering, this is the Captain. I know you have important matters to attend to, however, I must ask you to pause for a moment. I have the need of a shuttle. Please ensure that one is ready for me within the hour."
Neyes had been walking over to the core diagnostic control in Engineering when he heard the Captain's voice ring in over the comm system. At the mere mention of the shuttle, he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. He had a flash memory of the agonizing few hours he spent cataloging the completely destroyed shuttle bay and the surrounding sections. Someone had literally detonated an over sized and hand-made explosive, which in turn had ignited the entire area. It was a disaster. There were no shuttles to ready anyway, at least not on board Charon. "A shuttle. Huh. Well I'll have the Vulcans send one of the replacements over. You'll have to get it at an airlock, though. Deck 5, port side. I'm not sure if I can get someone to send it in an hour though." He said.
"See to it personally then." Shiarrael added with enough emphasis to hint that she would hold him responsible if it were not. With that done she turned and walked over to her nightstand which had been tipped over. She kicked it face up and pulled open the top drawer. Reaching in she grabbed a PADD and returned to the communication panel using it to download the message. When it completed she grabbed her bag and hurried out of the room exiting her quarters soon after. Halfway down the corridor she stopped realizing she was ill prepared to trek through the desert forge wearing only a simple uniform. She needed equipment, but where? The ship's armories had been emptied while the Charon underwent overhaul. She frowned but quickly realized the remaining security contingent aboard would still have some equipment for their own use. Shiarrael stuffed the PADD into her bag and made her way to the turbolift.
[A short time later]
Like most of the ship security was virtually empty save for a few yellow shirts who stood around a center console going over something on the screen. Heading the group was a young woman. Shiarrael's eyes narrowed slightly. A Klingon? No, not a full Klingon, her ridges were not pronounced enough. A hybrid. "Jolan'tru." Shiarrael issued the Romulan greeting "I'm sorry, we have yet to meet, however I require the use of any survival equipment remaining aboard..." she paused " I have yet to peruse the new personnel files. You are Lieutenant...?" She asked the half-breed.
K'tara's shoulders tightened visibly at the Romulan greeting, obviously still not used to the amount of green-blooded crew members on board. She nodded once to the rest of her crew, causing them to disperse before she shut off the screen and turned to Shiarrael, assuming an attention stance. "Lieutenant K'tara Sevarius. … Ma'am. We're currently being stretched short on our equipment. May I ask what you need it for?"
"I have been sent an obscure invitation to a meeting in the Vulcan's forge." Shiarrael unzipped the duffel bag and pulled out the PADD setting it down onto the security console "I have decided to accept it and before you begin a lecture about my security- do not concern yourself. I will be fine. " It seemed that most all these Federation security types were aggravating creatures who always felt obligated to warn and lecture about security to their superiors. She hoped this half-klingon would be a bit more pragmatic.
[to be continued...]
Captain Shiarrael t'Rehu
LtJG K'tara Severius
Chief Security Officer
Ensign Landon Neyes