June challenge entry

[Cobalt Frost]

"Lost in the Scent of the Earth of a Freshly Turned Grave"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Now

Somewhere...

A little girl huddles against the rubble of a once-majestic balustrade. One of her four arms is clutching a worn, well-loved stuffed rehendi-tam, the other three are wrapped around her head in a futile effort to drown out the noise. Energy weapons fire – phaser beams, disruptor blasts, alpha meson bursts; the girl is too young to know the difference, not that it would matter if she did – sizzles all around, followed by the earsplitting roar of explosions and the screams of the dead and dying. For war has come to the little girl’s home, war in all its terrible glory.

And as the little girl hopes the shattered catenis rock will offer sufficient shelter against the storm that rages across her world, she cries. She cries because her padra-ken is dead, vivisected before her eyes by an ebon-armored figure with a bright, glowing sword. She cries because her madra-ken is missing, having ran out of their family dwelling when the sky erupted in proton fire. She cries because the unnaturally twisted, unmoving body some distance down the road looks like her madra-ken’s, though the body had been so severely beaten that it’s impossible to tell.

Somehow, miraculously, despite the unimaginable cacophony, someone hears the little girl’s crying. Through the haze of the tears, the little girl sees a face. Too few eyes, and the nose is in the wrong place, but oddly comforting, pretty even. The face belongs to an outworlder; the little girl had seen them before, occasionally, in her madra-ken’s bakery. The little girl knows that the outworlder is a female, though she’s not sure how she knows it. Still, she takes some small measure of comfort in the knowing.

The outworlder extends one of her two hands towards the little girl, speaking in a soothing tone that somehow cuts through the cacophony of battle. She motions with the extended hand, inviting the little girl to leave the shadow of the broken balustrade and come over to her. The little girl doesn’t move, but when there’s a break in the weapons fire and the outworlder motions more insistently, the little girl runs, covering the distance between them in a nerve-wracking five second sprint. The outworlder wraps her arms around the little girl, stroking her cranial crests with a gentle, calming motion. Tears leave tracks in the soot staining the little girl’s face as she nuzzles closer to the kind outworlder.

“Are you hurt?” says the outworlder. The little girl shakes her head, cringing as an energy burst disintegrates a nearby column. “Chikushoume, that was close. We’ve got to get out of here.” The outworlder takes a risk, sticking her head above the embankment she had sheltered behind. Her eyes dart about furiously as she assesses possible escape routes, ducking back down quickly as one of the attackers' scout vehicles lurches into view. A corner of her mind analyzes the scout’s vulnerabilities, and she reaches for a nonexistent weapon at her hip. That thrustergun would certainly come in handy now, she thinks, though she knows that the fight was lost days ago. The fight, but hopefully not the…

A sustained volley of searing bright blasts tears up the small building next to the embankment, driving any further thoughts from the outworlder’s mind as she and the little girl press as close as possible to the embankment. As the building erupts in a shower of wood and earth, the outworlder sees their chance. Using the cloud of dust and debris as cover, the outworlder grabs the little girl in her arms and runs towards a storefront, miraculously untouched by the fighting. They duck inside just as another pair of scouts appear, firing indiscriminately. A subharmonic rumble tells the outworlder that a troop transport is not far behind.

The lights inside the store flicker, barely cutting through the cool darkness, but the outworlder pays the lights no heed. She moves, the little girl in tow, with practiced steps to the back of the store. They reach a storage room; the rumble of the troop transport is shaking the walls of the store now. The outworlder finds a large crate and pulls it open, revealing a passage cut into the hard clay ground. She gives the little girl a fierce hug before kneeling to face her. Reaching into a pocket, she retrieves three rectangular, colored glass chips. The outworlder puts the chips into the pouch on the belly of the little girl’s stuffed rehendi-tam.

“This is very important,” the outworlder says, stroking the little girl’s cranial crests again. “You’ve got to go through the tunnel. The lights will guide you. It’s a long walk, but there is food and water at the first juncture. You can, you must go all the way to the end.” The outworlder takes a bronzium-colored crest from the front of her shirt, and presses it into one of the little girl’s hands. “Don’t lose that. There will be someone dressed like me at the end of the tunnel. Show her this badge, and they will take you to a safe place.” The rumble is almost deafening now. “Tell her you must speak with Captain Gabriel Frost. Gabriel Frost,” the outworlder repeated, saying the name slowly so the little girl would remember. “Don’t show your rehendi-tam to anyone but him. Now go, be safe, and may the light of Evellan be with you.”

The outworlder kisses the little girl on the head, then shoos her into the tunnel, closing the false crate behind her. The little girl waits for a moment for the promised lights to appear and show her the path before going further into the tunnel. A light appears, blinking softly, and the little girl follows it. Sounds from the store echo down the tunnel, walls breaking and weapons firing, and the outworlder… The little girl feels tears stinging her eyes once more as she hurries along the tunnel. In the dim glow of the lights that she’s following, the little girl repeats the name the outworlder told her, repeats it so she won’t forget.

“Gabriel Frost, Gabriel Frost, Gabriel Frost…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

[Cobalt Frost]

USS Challenger, NCC 86126
Slip 13, Gateway Station

Now...

Contragrav boots purring quietly – and after two hours, pinching something fierce – Connie Taylor reached for the mark nine sonic mag-locked to her tool belt. Bracing herself against the bulkhead near the top of Jefferies Tube 32-Alpha-7, she set the access panel back where it belonged and started to seal it back in place. I can think of better ways to spend two hours, she groused to herself. The nature of the repair she’d just finished meant that once started, it had to be seen through to the end, however long it took. If I ever meet the dingbat engineer who designed th… Oh yeah, I married him. She laughed at herself, making a mental note to ask Gabriel about why this particular subsystem was set up the way it was.

With the access panel secured, Connie tucked the sonic into the crease of her palm and consulted the tricorder built into her uniform jacket’s left sleeve. Let’s see, reactivation sequence… Activate interlocks: check, dynotherms connected: check, infracells up: check, and megathrusters are go. Connie was reaching for her combadge to inform Commander R’riel, Challenger’s chief engineer, that the repairs were complete, when Challenger’s holographic avatar unexpectedly rezzed into existence next to her.

“Hell’s bells, Chal,” said Connie, “you scared the bejabbers out of me.”

There is a transmission for you, Commander. I apologize for startling you, but the message is marked ‘high priority urgent’.

“Display mode, please.” The avatar put her palms together and then moved them apart, creating a holographic window where the message began to play. A very unwelcome face appeared.

“Consti… Connie, I’m, I’m sorry to bother you,” her father began. “I know you asked me not to contact you…” Actually, Connie fumed, I told you to go to hell and leave me alone, you worthless bastard. After all the shit you put us through, you’re lucky all I did was tell you off. “…but it’s about Miranda. She’s, she’s… oh god, Connie, they brought her body back yesterday. Stella will be here tomorrow, and I’ve been trying to get a hold of your grandmum, but, you know…” He paused to cough, wiping tears from his eyes before he continued. “The funeral’s going to be a week from now. Please… Just, just please.”

Transmission ends, the avatar said, as the holo-screen went dark and then dissolved silently. The mark nine sonic slipped from Connie’s unfeeling fingers; the only sound for several long minutes was the sonic shattering on the Jefferies Tube floor. When Connie finally found her voice, she managed to squeak out one word.

“Gabriel.”

I’m sorry, Commander, but Captain Frost is with the D’haan Engineering Battalion in the Outbound Sector. It will take a significant amount of time for a message to reach him.

The numbness in her hands reached into her chest, and Connie found herself struggling for breath. Gabriel, I need you, she thought desperately…

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

[Cobalt Frost]

CommuniCore, Command Level 2
Gateway Station

Ensign Lynch handed Adm. Mary MacAllister the mug of Slurm he’d retrieved for her from the CommuniCore replicator. She took a long pull from the mug, sighing contentedly. Ensign Lynch hovered nearby, expectantly.

“Was there something else, ensign?”

“I was contacted earlier by the Dinuusan ambassador.”

And here comes the headache, Mary thought. “What does the little furball… I mean, the esteemed ambassador want?” This time, she added silently.

“The ambassador wants to go to Earth. It seems he has contracted the Dinuusan flu. The diagnosis was confirmed by Medical.”

Adm. MacAllister’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I thought the Dinuusans were immune to the Dinuusan flu.”

“The majority of them are, yes,” said Ensign Lynch. “But there is a small percentage that doesn’t develop a natural immunity. Kind of like how some humans don’t develop immunity to the chicken pox.”

“So Medical is able to diagnose the ambassador’s condition, but they’re unable to treat it?”

“No, Admiral. The ambassador refused treatment.”

MacAllister’s brow furrowed again. “At his age, Dinuusan flu is typically fatal.” A pause, then: “Waitaminnit. If he’s sick, why does he want to go to Earth? Certainly, he could get better treatment back on Dinuusa VI, or here on the station.”

Ensign Lynch shrugged. “It seems he has a favorite doctor – Dr. Walter Jennings – back on Earth, and won’t let anyone else treat him. It’s a small miracle he allowed our people in Medical to take a look at him in the first place.”

“And Dinuusan ships don’t have slipstream drive,” MacAllister said. “He probably wouldn’t survive the trip home.” She sighed. “Apparently, I’m running an interstellar taxi stand. Tell the amb…” An insistent bleeping interrupted the admiral, and she glared up at Ensign Lynch.

“Incoming transmission for you from Challenger, admiral."

“When it rains, it pours,” she muttered sotto voce. She tabbed a control, and Commander Taylor’s face appeared on the screen. MacAllister could tell that Connie had been crying recently. Jesus Christ, what now?

“What can I do for you, Commander?” she said, with a well-practiced false pleasantness.

“I need… I mean, I would like to request permission to take Challenger to Earth. I just found out that my sister Miranda has died, and I’d like to attend the funeral.”

“Permission granted. As it turns out, I was just about to contact you.” Connie cocked an eyebrow quizzically. “Seems the Dinuusan ambassador is sick, and he simply refuses to let anyone but his ‘family doctor’ back on Earth treat him.” At the mention of the Dinuusan ambassador, MacAllister saw Connie’s face sour for a moment. The ambassador himself was a stand-up being, if a bit needy at times, but his Serdan, or aide-de-camp, was a lecherous pervert who’d accosted Connie shortly after Challenger had arrived at Gateway, and harassed her on an infrequently recurring basis. Adm. MacAllister knew the trip to Earth would be very unpleasant, and took a twisted pleasure in that fact. “You are authorized to employ slipstream drive for the trip to Earth.”

“Very well, Admiral,” Connie said stoically. “I’ll contact the ambassador and let him know we’re at his disposal.”

“Thank you, Commander. MacAllister out.”

Connie took a minute to gather herself before contacting the Dinuusan consulate on the station. As she expected, Serdan Sond'ar appeared on the screen.

“Commander Taylor,” he purred smarmily. “What an unexpected pleasure. Finally taking up my dinner invitation?”

Connie ignored his remark, and the leer plastered on his canine-featured face. “Please inform Ambassador Sorv'ar that Challenger stands ready to take him to Earth. I understand time is of the essence; please have the ambassador aboard as soon as he’s able. Transmission ends.”

The comm-signal cut off just as the Serdan was about to open his mouth, no doubt to make another rude comment. Connie knew that she was pushing the bounds of diplomatic courtesy, but she just wasn’t in the mood. She took another moment to try and relax.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ambassador Sorv'ar's yacht appeared next to Challenger’s berth about an hour after Connie had contacted the consulate. Using the bay’s tractor beams, Kromm guided it into Challenger’s main shuttlebay with practiced skill, somehow managing to fit the bulbous, ostentatiously-ornamented craft in the bay without having to leave any of Challenger’s various auxiliary craft behind.

Connie, LCDR K’kon, Lieutenant D’Negel, and Lt. Mokul, decked out in their finest dress whites, greeted the ambassador and his small party as they descended imperiously from the yacht. Connie could tell immediately that the ambassador wasn’t doing well; she could see that his coat was dull and matted in spots, despite the obvious cosmetic efforts of his stylists. She bowed formally, growling out a greeting – as best as she could manage, anyway – in the ambassador’s native tongue. He returned the bow and the greeting, commenting quietly on Connie’s pronunciation. “Quite excellent, for a human,” he’d said with his best approximation of a smile.

“Lt. D’Negel will see you to your quarters, Excellency,” said Connie. “He will also take charge of your security while you’re on board Challenger.”

“Very well, very well,” the ambassador replied tiredly, following Lt. D’Negel towards the nearest turbolift. Serdan Sond'ar trailed behind, sidling up to Connie and giving her bum a quick squeeze.

“Mmm, nice and firm. I appreciate a woman who keeps in shape.”

Connie rounded on him, her eyes flashing with anger. “Touch me again, Serdan, and I promise you’ll regret it.”

The Dinuusan sniffed disdainfully. “You are a woman. You are no threat to me. Besides, I have diplomatic immunity.” He enunciated each syllable of ‘diplomatic’ to emphasize his point. “Please keep this in mind, and treat me accordingly.”

“While you are part of the ambassador’s party, you will be accorded all diplomatic courtesies. Keep this in mind, however, Serdan,” Connie said, her voice low and ice-cold. “I am a married woman. You know full well who my husband is, and… Well, I’m sure you’ve heard the stories.”

“Stories?”

“About the weight that ‘diplomatic immunity’ carries with him. When we get back to Gateway, you can ask the Ko-Dan ambassador about it.”

A look of confusion crossed the Serdan’s face. “But… There’s no Ko-Dan ambassador on Gateway.”

“There isn’t?” Connie said coquettishly. “Funny that.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The trip to Earth was uneventful.

Once Challenger reached earthspace, the ambassador’s yacht slid from the shuttlebay and headed straight for Earth, specifically Cleveland, where Dr. Jennings was waiting to treat his ailing friend. As soon as the ambassador was gone and Challenger had settled into a high geostationary orbit, Connie beamed down to her home, a small town near Kyoto, Japan. She arrived at the church where her sister’s funeral service was being held, one of the last to arrive. And that suits me just fine, she thought, knowing it meant she wouldn’t have to deal with her father. Not yet, anyway, chided a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Gabriel’s. Quiet, you.

The service was fairly standard, as far as funerals go. Stella gave the eulogy; it was pitch-perfect, moving many in the audience to tears. As soon as she'd finished, however, Stella whispered a quick 'goodbye' to Connie before hurrying out of the church. Connie made a halfhearted mental note to find out why later, but it was her turn to speak. She said a few words, muttering something about wishing she’d had more time, wishing she’d kept in closer contact, but the words rang hollow in her ears. They were just the things one said at a funeral. Truth was, Connie missed her sister terribly. Stella, the oldest, had been somewhat aloof towards her sisters, as if emotional bonds would get in the way of the destiny she’d planned for herself. Always so driven, Connie thought. But Miranda, she was warm, kind, and loving, having inherited the best traits of their mother. Connie and Miranda had been extremely close as they were growing up, despite spending most of their young lives firmly entrenched in their older sister’s shadow.

And despite our father’s efforts to control our lives, Connie thought, glaring in his direction. Kenji Taylor took every bit of credit he could from Stella’s successes, imagining himself the architect behind her steel will. Stella had gotten out of the Taylor house as soon as she legally could, so Kenji turned to Miranda and Connie, dominating every aspect of their lives in an attempt to duplicate his ‘miracle girl’. Living in Stella’s shadow, combined with Kenji’s ‘encouragements’, quickly resulted in Connie becoming a textbook overachiever. She had not been a happy child, and after her mother had died…

At least Connie had found a champion and surrogate mother in her grandmother Elisabeth, Kenji’s mother. When she’d run away from Japan, Connie made her way to England, showing up on Elisabeth’s doorstep in a threadbare dress, her few worldy possessions stuffed into a plastic Wal-Mart bag. Miranda had run away too, shortly before Connie, but she hadn’t been as lucky; by the time she was sixteen, Miranda was an emotional wreck, pregnant and homeless in Los Angeles, California. Eventually she’d turned her life around, becoming a noteworthy xenosociologist, a career that took her mercifully farther and farther from Earth.

Connie snapped out of her reverie as the priest finished the service. The mourners got up and proceeded to the gravesite, where more prayers were uttered and more tears were shed. A light rain, mist really, started to fall as the funeral-goers dispersed, leaving the cemetery workers to lower the coffin into the grave. Connie found herself alone, perhaps inevitably, with her father. He looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to launch into a rage-fuelled tirade like she had the last time they’d spoken.

For the very first time, Connie looked – really looked – at her father. The years had not been kind to Kenji Taylor. Connie had heard that he’d been unable (or unwilling) to work for the last several years, spending his days wallowing in self-pity or drowning his sorrows in cheap vodka. Looking back, Connie realized that not much had really changed. As a young man, like many young men his age, Kenji had aspired to join Starfleet, but his lackluster performance in high school prevented him from even enlisting, let alone attend Starfleet Academy. So he’d struggled through college, gotten a job as a faceless paper-pushing drone in a large company, and somehow married way above his level. Nagase Kaoru was the best thing that had ever happened to Kenji; at least, she should have been.

Connie shook her head; she was heading towards memories she didn’t care to relive right now. She looked again at her father, and realized she had nothing to say to him. No need to rant, to hurl curses, to waste her breath. Kenji Taylor had chosen the life he’d led, and made of himself the man that stood beside Miranda’s grave. And Connie had made of herself the woman she was today, despite her father. The weight of her grief still bore heavily on her heart, but there was another weight that suddenly vanished as Connie turned her back on her father. She was finally free of him.

Four days later, Connie knelt by her sister’s grave to say her goodbyes before beaming back to Challenger. The coffin had been lovingly placed in the ground, and the hole filled, though the ground still bore the signs of having been recently disturbed. A hand rested on her shoulder, and Connie placed her own hand over it, finding solace in the cool flesh.

“You arrived in earthspace three days ago,” Connie said. “You couldn’t have contacted me?”

“I’m sorry,” said Gabriel. “I left Outbound Sector as soon as I heard your call, but there was something I had to take care of immediately.”

Connie stored Gabriel’s ‘heard your call’ comment for later discussion, but said, “What could be more important than being at your wife’s side?”

“Making sure your sister didn’t die in vain.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

[Cobalt Frost]

USS Gorky Park, NCC 91928
In orbit of Ke-Noros III, cloaked

Seven days ago...

“Hey boss,” Lt. Samantha Kendrick shouted over her shoulder. “We got a signal from mission specialist Fukamachi’s combadge.”

Captain Savalya Ramius rotated her chair to face the Mission Ops II terminal. “Talk to me, Sam.” I love that Brooklyn accent, Savalya thought. She’s like a hot Bugs Bunny… Savalya was starting to feel her ever-present urges, but slapped them down. Bohze moi, not now. Later, maybe...

Lt. Kendrick hit a control, and a simplified topographical map of the area currently under siege appeared on the main screen. “Looks like she’s in the tunnel an’ makin’ for the extraction point. But she’s goin’ slow. Maybe she’s hurt?”

“Or being coerced at phaserpoint.” Savalya stood up, absentmindedly running a hand through her hair.

“Beamin’ down?” Lt. Kendrick asked. Savalya could see the eager look in Sam’s eyes; it had been a while since she’d been off the ship. Hell, being cooped up in the ship for as long as we have been for this mission has given everyone a fierce case of cabin fever, myself included.

“It’s too risky,” Savalya replied. “A transporter beam would be too easily detected, even by the primitive tech in use planetside. And we really don’t need anyone tracing a transporter signal back to the old gal, especially not after Hoek IV.

“Get your gear, then get down to the shuttlebay and tell them to get the Gorbachev ready to fly.” A pause, then: “And tell Chief Odenuk to make sure the shuttle’s cloak works this time, eh?”

* * *

The little girl emerged hesitantly from the tunnel, seeing the promised outworlder waiting; another female, dressed like the one who’d saved her. She approached the outworlder with a wary confidence.

“Well hello, little one,” the outworlder said, smiling. “My name is Savalya. What’s your name?”

“My name Te-Kam-Kam, but madra-ken call me Blossom.”

“Blossom. Such a pretty name for a pretty girl.” Savalya gave her cranial crests a gentle stroke. “So how did you find your way out here?” Blossom held out her lower left hand, and Savalya knelt down to be on the same level. “What do you have there?” The little girl opened her hand, revealing the combadge she’d been given.

“Bohze moi,” Savalya whispered. “The person who gave you this badge, what did she say?”

Blossom cocked her head to one side. “She say, ‘go to end of tunnel, there be someone dressed like me, give them badge, she take you to safe place.” Blossom’s voice was an eerie imitation of mission specialist Fukamachi’s.

“I will do that, little one. Was there anything else?”

“She say, ‘tell her, must speak with Captain Gabriel Frost’.” At that, Savalya almost lost her balance. They made him a captain? “That might be… difficult, Blossom. Captain Frost is very, very far away.”

“Must speak with Captain Gabriel Frost,” Blossom repeated. “Must.”

Savalya stood and held out her hand, which Blossom took. “We’ll go find him, shall we?” smiled Savalya as she led Blossom to the shuttle. Once inside and certain they’d not been detected, Savalya ‘stepped on it’ and made a beeline for the Gorky Park. Once on board, she made sure Blossom was safely ensconced in the captain’s quarters before heading for the bridge.

“Lt. Okulyo, set a course for the Transition Barrier, maximum warp.”

The South Africa-born helmsman tapped in Capt. Ramius’ command. “Course plotted and laid in, Captain.”

“пойдите!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

[Cobalt Frost]

USS Gorky Park, NCC 91928
En route to the Transition Barrier, at maximum warp

Six days ago...

“Captain, sensors are detecting a deep-layer subspace distortion,” said Commander ch’Thon, Gorky Park’s Andorian first officer. “The waveform harmonics are indicative of the drive system employed by the Celvani.”

“Drop to sublight, Mr. Okulyo,” Savalya ordered. “Put us in the path of the distortion, then hold position. Commander ch’Thon, set condition yellow, and transmit IFF query, if you please.” The Gorky Park dropped out of warp with a familiar grinding lurch. Lt. Okulyo goosed the maneuvering thrusters, pushing the stately Excelsior-class cruiser into the ordered position. About three minutes later, a small ship dropped out of warp off the Gorky Park’s bow and responded to the cruiser’s IFF (Identify Friend or Foe) signal.

“Tactical profiles her as a Temujin-class assault scout,” said CDR ch’Thon, “but we can’t get a read through that hull. Is that… that’s not possible. An isoneutronium weave?”

Gabriel Frost’s face appeared on the main screen. “No peeking," he said, his tone friendly but serious. His eyes lit up when he saw who was sitting in the Gorky Park’s center seat.

“Savalya!” he said. “This is a pleasant surprise. I guess space really isn’t that big.”

“About as much of a surprise as when I found out you’d been promoted to captain,” Savalya laughed. “And believe it or not, we were on our way to find you.”

Gabriel’s face twisted in a quizzical look. “Do tell.”

“Come aboard; I have someone you need to meet.” Savalya paused for a moment, thinking. “That barge of yours won’t come anywhere close to fitting in the shuttlebay. You’d better hard-dock it to the hull and beam aboard.”

“I appreciate the lift,” said Gabriel. “My last superspace capacitor was just about to melt down, and I’d have been stuck.”

“I’ll pretend I understand what you’re talking about and say you’re welcome,” Savalya smiled. “Meet me in the observation lounge. Ramius out.” Savalya turned away from the screen and headed for the turbolift.

“You have the bridge, Commander. And point the sensors at something else. You heard Captain Frost; no peeking.”

* * *

Gabriel guided the Unforgiven toward the dorsal side of the Gorky Park’s secondary hull, docking his yacht on the flat space between the saucer and the warp nacelle pylon assembly. The magnatomic adhesion pads on the Unforgiven’s landing gear locked her to the Gorky Park’s hull, and Gabriel beamed over as instructed.

“Permission to come aboard,” he said as he stepped into the observation lounge behind the bridge. Savalya greeted him with a warm hug.

“Granted, tovarisch,” she enthused. “Bohze moi, but it’s good to see you again.”

“You too, you too. So what’s this about coming to find me?”

“We were on assignment at Ke-Noros III, doing quiet observation, when we got a signal from ‘fleet that we needed to extract a civilian mission specialist.” Gabriel nodded knowingly; ‘quiet’ was a euphemism for ‘under cloak’. “When we got to the rendezvous point, well…”

Savalya headed for the door, indicating that Gabriel should follow. “It’ll be easier to show you.” They caught a nearby turbolift that Savalya ordered to deck seven, captain’s quarters.

In the turbolift, Savalya played with her curly chestnut-colored hair suggestively. “Say, after we take care of this, how about a quickie or three for old times’ sake?”

Gabriel took a half step back, but smiled. “Savalya, I’m married.”

“Married?” she said incredulously, grabbing his left hand and examining the ring she found there. “Hey, that’s not silver.”

“Mithranium,” Gabriel replied casually. Savalya laughed out loud.

“Gabriel Frost, you are the only being I know who can be so nonchalant about wearing something that’s worth enough to ransom a planet. Are you sure we’re not in some bizarro mirror universe or something? First I find out you’re a starship captain, and now I learn you’re – and I’m still not sure I believe it – married.”

“You of all people know that things change.” Savalya nodded in agreement. It wasn’t that long ago that her career was in a death spiral, after all. But thanks to a miraculous second chance, she’d turned herself around and was finally on the right track.

“So who’s the lucky girl?”

“Connie Taylor, my XO.” At this, Savalya’s eyes widened.

“What is it?”

“The plot thickens. You know what you were saying about space not being so big?”

* * *

Gabriel followed Savalya into her quarters, where a very young Ke-Norosian girl sat on the synth-leather couch, singing quietly to herself.

“I take it she was at the extraction point, rather than the mission specialist,” Gabriel said. Savalya nodded.

“She had the specialist’s combadge, and insisted that she must speak with you, and only you. Her name is Te-Kam-Kam, though she said her mother called her Blossom.” Gabriel approached the little girl, arms open and palms facing up in a traditional Ke-Norosian greeting form.

“The light of Evellan shines on this hour of our meeting, little one,” said Gabriel, in Ke-Norosian. “I am Gabriel Frost.” At this, the little girl’s cranial crests perked up and ruffled happily.

“I have something to show you,” she replied, also in her native tongue. She started to reach into her dress-cloak, but stopped and looked over Gabriel’s shoulder at Savalya. “Only you.”

Gabriel looked back at Savalya. “Give us a minute?” She nodded, ducking out into the corridor. As the door slid shut, Blossom pulled out her stuffed rehendi-tam and offered it to Gabriel.

“What a pretty rehendi-tam,” said Gabriel. “They are fun to ride, aren’t they?” Blossom nodded in agreement. Turning the little toy around in his hands, Gabriel noticed the isolinear chips secreted in the stuffed animal’s pouch. He pulled them out and handed the toy back to Blossom. He gave her crests a friendly stroke, then stood and moved over to the desk. A few keystrokes later, the contents of the chips was displayed on the desk’s built-in computer terminal.

“Gods above and gods below…”

* * *

Several minutes had passed since Savalya had left Gabriel and Blossom in her quarters. She was just about to knock on the door when Gabriel stepped out. Before the door shut, Savalya could see Blossom stretched out on the couch, her dress-cloak wrapped around her like a blanket. Gabriel held three isolinear chips in his hand, and wore a very serious look on his face.

“We need to talk.” They ducked into the unassigned quarters next to Savalya’s, and Gabriel told her what was on the chips.

“So someone’s pet black op went south, and they started an intrasystem war to try and cover it up? Unbelievable. Ridiculous!”

“The mission specialist gave her life to make sure this information got off Ke-Noros. But why did she tell Blossom to take it to me?”

“The mission specialist was a xenosociologist named Mizuki Fukamachi.”

“That name is oddly familiar.”

“It should be. She was your wife’s sister.”

Gabriel thought for a moment. Xenosocio… “Miranda! Mizuki was the name her mother used in private, but her birth name was Miranda. No wonder Connie sounded so upset.

“We have to get to Earth as soon as possible.” He held up the isolinear chips. “This cannot stand.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

[Cobalt Frost]

Earth, Makehiro, Japan
(several miles south of Kyoto)

Now...

Gabriel paused a moment to look at the inscription on the tombstone that Connie was still kneeling next to. It was a simple granite rectangle, with ‘Fukamachi Mizuki’ in gold-filled kanji; below that, in much smaller letters, it said ‘Miranda Taylor’. The epitaph read simply ‘2 Timothy 4:7 (KJV)’. Gabriel knew that KJV meant the King James Bible, so he called up the reference on his tricorder. The scripture read: ‘I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith’. He remembered Connie mentioning that Miranda – Mizuki – had always had a strong faith, and that rediscovering that faith had helped her rise above the mess she’d been in, given her the strength to turn her life around.

Gabriel knelt next to Connie and put some of the grave earth in a small stonecrafted box. The box sealed itself with an oddly musical tone.

“Another Celvani custom?” Connie asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“A D’haan custom, actually. The D’hann believe that they were formed from the stuff of the very mountains that dominate their world, so when they die they return to that from whence they came. They believe that a portion of the honored dead’s spirit lingers in the earth it was buried in.” He handed the box to Connie. “They say the scent of this burial earth reminds one that their loved one is always with them.”

“Thank you.” They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, then: “So what exactly have you been doing for the last three days?”

“Calling in favors, and burning bridges I couldn’t afford to burn,” Gabriel replied. “But it was worth it. Savalya – Captain Ramius – and I knew the circumstances that lead to your sister’s death had to be exposed. An innocent world was burning just because some Intel spook didn’t want anyone to know his little black op had gone bad, and your sister gave her life to get the truth into my hands. Like I said, I couldn’t let her die in vain.

“Captain Ramius and I took the intel, and the little Ke-Norosian girl, Blossom, to the Rylosian ambassador, and he got us in to the session of the Federation council.”

“Why? Why not go to the president, or maybe Admiral Durham?”

“The sort of black op that started this mess didn’t feel like something Durham would do, but he’s got his fingers in so many pies, I didn’t want to take a chance. No, we had to blow the lid off this thing, blow it wide open, and we figured in the Federation council, with a full roster of delegates and reporters from every news agency for several sectors looking on, was just the place to do it.”

“You do have chutzpah, Gabriel. I imagine it was quite a scene.”

Gabriel laughed. “You have no idea. After we presented the data your sister provided and the little girl spoke, it took nearly an hour to restore order to the council.”

“I would very much like to meet this little girl,” Connie said. “But what happens now?”

“Blossom has taken quite a shine to Captain Ramius, so she’s with her on the Gorky Park. Which,” said Gabriel as he stood, “is in the task force that’s being assembled to liberate Ki-Noros III, the task force that Challenger has been invited to join.” He extended his hand, helping Connie to her feet.

“Task force? For a non-aligned world?”

“Turns out Blossom’s grandfather is the planetary governor of Ki-Noros III. She formally requested Federation intervention. There was such a hue and cry in the council that the request was approved almost unanimously; Ki-Noros III is temporarily a Federation protectorate. The task force leaves within the hour.

“Let’s give Blossom her world back, hmm?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

End

 

[Cobalt Frost]

You can read more about Captain Savalya Ramius in my entry for the December '10 challenge, "Or With Us You Will Ride", where I introduced the character and her ship, the USS Gorky Park. http://trekbbs.com/showthread.php?t=134457

 

[Rush Limborg]

Fascinating! A most unique take on the theme. Connnie reflects on an "emotional" freedom (from her father), all the while the stage is set for the coming freedom of a world. And while we're at it, a little "the truth will set you free", as well--as the "black ops" is exposed, "off-screen".

Well done.