Wednesday, January 26, 2011

[USS Charon] SD241101.26 || Joint Log "New Beginnings" Part III || Capt Shiarrael t`Rehu, LtCmdr Sakarra Tyrax

[Family Estate, Kir province, Vulcan]
3rd Day in the month of D'Ruh, YS 9023

The sound of the crying infant was faintly nostalgic.  Shiarrael smiled at mother and child as she turned her attention to Sakarra, while approaching her second she spoke "I'm sorry to intrude but there is an urgent matter I must discuss with you."  She glanced hesitantly at the other Vulcans "it would be best if we discussed this in private.  It is not something meant for their ears."


"Oh Miss Sherry, no need to be all mysterious. It's not like you are talking to .."

"Mother." The steel-haired Betazoid gently placed the little one into her mother's arms, if only to occupy her hands with something other than give poor Silek any more bruises, and gave a brief nod of greeting to his daughter's Captain "If madam t`Rehu has come here in such a state, I think we should let her …"

It took no more than the soft rustle of heavy robes to make silence fall over the room, and even the newborn ceased her wailing to hiccup. What had seemed an unmoving statue in the warm shadows, seated on a chair that seemed too simple, too bland, too unadorned to even be noticed, resolved into a frail-looking woman in a Matriarch's heavy robes. Frail looking until one saw the face, exquisite in its fine, chiseled form even with the lines of over two centuries engraved upon it. Until one saw the proud carriage, the slender shoulders unbowed by a terrible weight.

Silver-white hair, crowning that silent face in elaborate coils, and eyes the colour of smoked topaz. Ancient as mountains, sharp as the finest blade.


One would have expected the voice belonging to such a being cracked, old, gravelly. Instead, it was still the clearest, most melodious soprano this planet had brought forth in centuries, strong and resounding even in a low, even timbre. "Ved roel, kanu."

It was not a voice that commanded. It simply expected to be obeyed.

"You are here, then." The storm-grey gaze settled on the Rihanha, examining her, as silent and fierce as Nevasa over the Forge. "Come."

Without a further word, T'Leia turned, while the young woman whose features so much resembled hers gave a courteous half-bow of greeting to her Captain and followed her grandmother's unspoken request. Both of you.


What was this feeling?  So familiar but she could not quite put it to memory.  Shiarrael stared at the woman, there was awe, but mostly the feeling of a presence so great that it pushed upon you unwillingly.  It was a suffocating feeling and she was half tempted to utter something but was reminded of the human expression 'it is best not to push ones fortunes' indeed, it had taken her some time to understand that wording.  Fortune had always been something she considered myth, even so, this was not the time.  No, she should tread cautiously.  However, as she took the first step towards the woman's shadow the memory struck her.  The tall unobtrusive form of her grandfather standing before her on the bridge of the Saeihr'llaiir- even when he was so frail he could not walk unaided the old warhorse still had that intensely assertive presence much like the woman in front of her. 


It was this thought that steeled Shiarrael's nerves as the trio made their way down the hallway.  She took a deep breath "ni'droi'ik nar-tor- however, this is a matter between a S'thora and Nerien.  An urgent matter at that."


"Yes. It is."

The Rihanha's boots were the only footsteps on the ancient stone, as the two Vulcans seemed to float with only the rustle and sigh of heavy robes announcing their presence. Not even the V'Ket had followed, stopped by a near imperceptible gesture as the Matriarch led the way down another, smaller set of stairs to a sunlit little chamber overlooking the gardens. More honey-golden stone, with a floor the colour of polished seashells, a desk so old it seemed to have stood here since the dawn of time. Subtle fragrance of lilies and roses, herbs and spices mingled with wood polish and the warm scent of the unlit brazier.

"Captain." For the first time, Sakarra spoke directly to her S'thora, offering one of the simple yet exquisite chairs with a small gesture while the Matriarch settled down silently, for a second almost seeming an indulgent grandmother observing a favored child. The impression came and went, as fast and easily missed as a gust of wind rustling the leaves. "She knows. Spock is … family."


That alone was an admission that came hard to a Vulcan, to openly reveal Clan-ties to an outworlder. No matter how close, or how distant, it was a private matter. Those who needed to know, did.

In truth, Sakarra was astonished T'Leia had not only permitted, but made it quite clear this was to be … an exception. And while the young woman could only speculate as to the Matriarch's motives, she also knew in her heart that it had been she who had made Sovar warn Charon, who had sent her own sister to guard the planet with the one ship that would fall victim to no deception, follow no command but hers.  Who had quietly listened to a garbled message from the far reaches of Rihannsu space and suddenly all those city shields that had been receiving overhauls for weeks at the insistence of a rather stubborn engineer had hummed to life.


"I shall not keep you, S'thora t`Rehu." Always, at first glance the woman was as unmoved and serene as Seleya herself, expressionless and unreadable. Only if one dared look close was there a sense of energy in the way she held herself … perhaps too much energy, held in check by a frightening control, a will against which steel would bend like water.

Again that silent regard of old, old eyes, more scorching than the white-hot sun, examining.

"You are ordered to seek who bombed the embassy. To find who killed Enor. To find Spock. With the latter, I may be able to assist."


Her nostrils flared at the subtle perfumes- the smells reminded Shiarrael again of her grandfather.  Images of him working his own gardens flashed through her mind as she offered Sakarra a slight nod while taking the seat in front of the Vulcan matriarch.  The woman had the same sun-warmed leathery features of her grandfather, it almost pained her to look at T'Leia, the similarities were so resounding.  She leaned back in the chair as Sakarra announced the news.  So they are related to that old Fvai?  She smiled, not entirely surprised.  Her cousins held so many secrets that she had long since been dulled to the effect of their revelation.


"So you are kin to Spock."  Shiarrael posture loosened as she looked into those ferocious eyes "that is not so much as a surprise as your offer of aid.  I must be blunt so do not take offense matron.  I will admit certain difficulty in trusting your kin- an irony considering the source; however I know you have aided us greatly.  The V'tosh Ka'tur have enlightened me and their word is paid with an honesty I come to trust."

Shiarrael stood and looked down at the woman- her trembling nerves calmed as a liquid steel flowed into her veins and she pressed her hands against the polish wood of the desk "I will accept your aid and I will guarantee to you that we will locate Spock.  But it comes with warning.  I know you have done me great honor by revealing this knowledge- but I will not make the mistake of allowing myself to be a puppet of your peoples whims again.  I was once an ignorant fool- perhaps I still am a fool, but I am not longer as ignorant.  Your people have a habit of omission- if we work together that habit must cease.  You are powerful- but power can be much like a hlai's dropping: putrid and infested with worm things."


[End Log]


Captain Shiarrael t`Rehu

Commanding Officer


Commander Sakarra Tyrax

Executive Officer


USS Charon


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