"Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried."
(Lord Byron)
[Auxiliary Control Room, Temep Shar – coordinates unknown]
8th Day in the month of et'Khior, YS 9021
"Star'uh, traveksu."
"El'torau kwitau-yeturek eh sviribau-gol'dvunek na'sateh leh-oh."
"Mish-shal."
"Meslak teslaya."
Sajel could see it in their eyes, although none said it out loud.
Unfortunate. Highly unfortunate.
"Have we ascertained our location?"
"We have."
Tall, willowy T'Min did not turn around but simply brought the screen in front of her to life – even flickering badly, it gave everyone a very good image of their current location. This time, the half dozen Vulcans in their terracotta colored uniforms actually shifted ever so subtly.
They might as well have said 'Oh, damn'.
He could hardly blame them, seeing as the odd colorful metaphor presented itself in his mind as well. The human expression 'Royally screwed' being among the first. And for the first time in his eighty four point five two years, Sajel actually had an inkling what the phrase meant.
Only the two Scientists, standing apart clearly in their cobalt blue garments, seemed to find something redeeming in their predicament. In fact, both V'Lin and Havor were already gravitating towards the screen, curiosity for the moment drowning out the air of uncertainty and silent grief that had lingered about them like dark clouds since …
No time for this. Let them do whatever they thought was worthwhile, he had more pressing issues to address. With a gaping hole in main engineering and the bridge all but gone, there was only one logical course of action if they wanted to send a distress signal – IF they wanted to. Considering where they were stranded, it might well amount to suicide to do so.
"Zhel-lan, if I may?" young S'Kal had obviously seen something of interest as well and his so surprisingly gentle brown eyes were fixed upon the upper right corner of the crude screen.
"Proceed"
The scientists had already caught on and moved the star chart accordingly, but the sensors simply did not function well enough in their current state. The best they could display was a blinking, deep red symbol and a 56.77% probability.
Minshara-Class.
Even if they could sustain one quarter impulse, it would take them nearly a year. Already their supplies were dwindling after having been stranded for longer than this trip had ever been meant to take. No engineers, only T'Min with the sharp mind and Suril with the talent for improvising the unfathomable, no healers because they had not been deemed necessary for a test flight, and most of all – no Captain. The probability of success was … negligible.
But while their lives were weighing upon him, giving up was simply not an option. Sajel looked over the fourteen Vulcans crowding the room with him - the six other V'Ket, spared the disaster because none had deemed them important enough to be on the bridge during launch, the two scientists who had been equally unimportant and content to monitor their flight from this small room rather than engineering, and the six technicians, assigned to monitor and reroute the temperamental power flow in various areas of the ship. It had saved them, when everyone on the bridge and every last engineer who knew about the intricate workings of Temep Shar had perished in the violent, abrupt end of her test flight.
He could see in their unmoved, stoic faces that they wondered if it would not have been a more merciful fate. But even though they would not be able to repair the ship, they had shown an uncanny ability to ... improvise.
T'Min seemed to sense that no logical conclusion was coming forward in her superior officer's mind and quirked a brow. Quietly, he nodded.
"There is a way, osu." She set her dark eyes on the technicians, noting the stained, deep red tunics and the air of weariness that seemed to enfold them. After weeks of simply trying to survive, let alone keep the ship from coming apart, it was hardly a surprise – and yet she would have to ask even more of them.
Her sand-blonde hair was bathed in the ruby-red light of the console before her as she brought up every last detail the sensors were able to display "A detour, mayhap two. Here." She pointed "and here."
V'Lin gravitated over and furrowed her finely slanted brows, then nodded. "Indeed. It would appear that while our location is unfortunate in political terms, it is most advantageous in other ways. We will be able to obtain sufficient fuel to power the engines and replicator network – if it can be repaired."
They stirred, then. Be it ancient instincts, cultural idiosyncrasy, or simply the fact that there were two calm, unshakeable voices in the midst of chaos, every gaze in the room came to rest on the two women, ready to follow their lead.
Sajel exhaled quietly and inclined his head. "Then this is how we shall proceed."
[Main Engineering, Temep Shar – coordinates unknown]
14th Day in the month of D'ruh, YS 9022
The vista was what a human would likely have called breathtaking, although it would have been unsettling as well, had the silent Vulcan allowed himself to feel such a thing.
Behind the forcefield that protected main engineering and the people within from the unforgiving emptiness of space was … the very opposite of emptiness. The birth of stars, and all the grandiose splendor this entailed stretched before Sajel's contemplative gaze.
He had noticed more silver streaks in his ebony hair this morning, reflected in T'Min's gentle eyes before they had left what qualified as their quarters for lack of a better term, and faced another day on their ship who was … dying. Slowly, inevitably.
And still, for this sight alone, it might have been worth it. All of it.
If he had one regret, it was that he could not share the marvels they had seen during their slow, agonizing voyage towards a planet that was still out of reach and likely to remain so, with those back home.
Home.
The hirat growing on the hills and wrapping their graceful vines over the stone walls of his house had to be budding now. Soon, the warm, sweet scent would waft over the steep cliffs over Kel, mingling with the salt and ozone of the nearby sea. He had shown it to T'Min and lived a rare moment of amusement at her sudden frown. The deep hues of Thanar and her waves crashing against amaranth-red rocks were more menacing than a Le-Matya to she who was of the dry, flat midlands.
It had been another long, sleepless night after young Havor had nearly died in the explosion of the EPS conduit, and they had kept watch. All of them. Silently speaking to him … of home.
To everyone's surprise except perhaps V'Lin's, he had recovered. Even fashioned himself a crutch from debris – and of that they still had plenty – to hop with as much enthusiasm as he dared show from one console to the next.
Sometimes Sajel wondered if this young one was not the only true scientist this vessel had ever carried. Oblivious to anything but the marvels he had found himself in, he cared little that none might ever know what had become of them, that all he learned would be lost as well. And soon, unless …
His gaze shifted to the three figures crawling over the hull just outside the forcefield, their copper suits and helmets reflecting the indigo hues of a swirling nebula. He knew her, by the graceful ease of her movements, even weightless. Deep within, waves of tenderness and worry stirred and were quietly accepted. She seemed satisfied with their progress – her steadily moving hands told him as much. The air was getting thinner again. Even if they could repair the broken conduit, it would be some time until all but young S'Kal who found any air but that of the high slopes of Nal'Shin very rich indeed, would be able to breathe in something approaching comfort again.
"Zhel-lan."
The voice was … surprised. Cautious. It made Sajel pivot around with something nearly approaching his old alacrity.
"Report."
"Sensors showed a warp signature, osu."
"Showed."
The terracotta-clad male nodded curtly, tapping away at the console. They had long ago ceased to carry their arms, but Sajel noted the quick glance towards the makeshift bunks in the corner, where swords lay next to blankets and holstered sidearms were neatly arranged on the smooth, unlit surface of a broken panel.
"Ha, S'haile. The trail has ceased … there."
"Origin."
A hard expression on his face, the other shook his head. The sensors had been so badly damaged, no amount of repairs or improvisation had been enough. It was astonishing they had even been able to pick up … whoever was out there.
Well, there were only two likely options, no?
"Have they detected us."
"Unlikely. There is much interference – unless they know what to look for …"
"Understood."
Sajel turned back towards his companion and the others, absorbed by their repairs, and waved for S'Kal to bring them back. Either way, the matter of breathable air would not be a concern for much longer.
His sword's hilt gleamed in the indigo light as he contemplated and dismissed the option of retreat. If the Sundered had found them … there were worse ways to die than with one's ship.
[End Log]
