November/December 2023 Challenge Entry: "So Comes a Fragile Dawn"

[Cobalt Frost]

Previously, on Star Trek: Flight of the Challenger

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

John “Mad Jack” Perceval, Starforce’s “golden boy” and captain of the USS Coventry, has arrived in Celvani space to participate in a series of wargames with USS Challenger. Gabriel and John have a history from their Academy days. After the wargames – 7 to 3 in favor of the Coventry – a party is held in celebration, and long-simmering tensions between Gabriel and John come to a head, leading to a physical confrontation in a holodeck simulation of a martial arts arena where Gabriel beats John to within an inch of his life…

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

John “Mad Jack” Perceval thought… well, he couldn’t actually think much of anything. It was a minor miracle that he was still conscious, considering the pain he was in from the clinically savage beating he’d just received. Mad Jack was only slightly aware of the man standing over him, could barely hear the contrast of the man’s rhythmic, measured breathing to his own, labored and wet. He thought the man was talking, but Mad Jack couldn’t really tell over the panicked beating of his heart, roaring in his ears.

“Two years, you son of a bitch. Two years, you made my life a living Hell. ‘Oh, Mad Jack,’ they said, ‘he was only kidding. He didn’t mean it like that,’ they said. ‘You’re taking it too personally,’ they said.

“And you… ‘Put it on my tab,’ you’d say, to excuse your latest antics. No matter how inappropriate, how reprehensible, how sub-human your behavior, you’d just flash that million-credit smile and say ‘put it on my tab.’ And there would be laughter, and more smiles, and the Academy faculty that was supposed to be looking out for all the cadets would look the other way. ‘Put it on my tab.’”

Mad Jack felt a hand grab the front of his bloodstained gi and pull him up. His eyes focused long enough to see the look of cold, unadulterated hatred on Gabriel’s face before his vision went blurry again. Gabriel drew his right hand back in preparation for a final, fatal blow.

“Your bill has come due, asshole, and I’m here to collect in full.”

“Good Lord, Gabriel,” came a voice from the shadows. “Did you actually just say that out loud?” Gabriel flinched at the sound, but otherwise remained unmoving, fist ready to strike.

“Captain Frost!” The voice barked with an unmistakable tone of absolute command. Gabriel held his stance for another long moment, then released his hold on the gi. Mad Jack’s insensate body collapsed to the mat with a sickening, wet thud, as Gabriel reflexively came to attention.

“Sir,” said Gabriel crisply, as Admiral Durham stepped to the edge of the mat. He took in the scene in one impassive glance before focusing his gaze on Gabriel. Durham stared silently, knowing the pressure was bearing down on Gabriel like a ton of isoneutronium.

"Proud of yourself, Gabriel?" asked Adm. Durham after a long minute, harshly breaking the silence.

"He had it coming," Gabriel replied, his voice weakly defiant.

"Oh, that's mature. The true mark of a Starfleet," and the way Adm. Durham said 'Starfleet' made it sound like a vile slur, "officer. I thought you were better than this. I've known he was egomaniacal and infantile, but at least it never got the better of him."

"The great 'Mad Jack' Perceval," Gabriel whispered. "Starforce's poster boy. Puts Jim Kirk to shame." Gabriel turned to face Adm. Durham. "Do you know what he put me through?"

"I do. And I thought you able to put it behind you, to rise above. That would be the mark of a Starfleet officer, of a captain of a ship of the line."

"I am prepared to accept what punishment you deem appropriate," said Gabriel.

"Punishment?" he erupted. "You should count yourself damned fortunate I stopped you before you killed him, otherwise I'd see you ride the lightning, or whatever it would take to kill a freak like you. As it stands, you'll spend the rest of however long you live in the most isolated hole I can find." He got to within an inch of Gabriel's face. "I am personally going to nail your necrotic ass to the WALL! I'm going to..."

Durham paused as he realized just what a court-martial could reveal, and what that exposure would do to his plans. True, he had most of the JAG corps in his pocket, but he couldn't take the chance on anything getting out. Even rumor and innuendo would be damning in the court of public opinion. And he was close, so close...

Durham stepped back a pace, and his eyes narrowed. Gabriel couldn't help it; he flinched again under Durham's void-cold gaze.

"Unless...”

 

[Cobalt Frost]

"So Comes a Fragile Dawn"

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

Two Days Later

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

“I wanted to be a captain, to have a ship of my own… But not like this, Gabriel. Not like this.”

“It’s OK.” Gabriel gave Connie a wan smile. “Challenger is your ship. She always was.” He sealed the last container, and it vanished in a transporter beam. Gabriel tabbed his communicator.

“Kromm, prep the yacht for departure.”

“HIja’wlj joH’a,” replied Challenger's Klingon CAG. “SoH Daq vagh.”

“But with a court-martial, we could have aired Durham’s dirty laundry! We could have…”

Gabriel shook his head. “We’ve got theories and conjecture, some circumstantial evidence, but no real proof, no ‘smoking gun’. Besides, Durham owns the JAG; any ‘dirty laundry’ we tried to present wouldn’t even make it to the courtroom. It would get slapped down by.. by some lawyerly maneuvering or some sort of legal mumbo-jumbo.

“This way, the stain of what I did won’t tarnish you or the crew. If I hadn’t agreed…” He sighed. “It may not seem like it, but it’s better that I did what I did.”

Connie opened her mouth to continue the argument, to try a new tack, but the look on Gabriel’s face put paid to that idea. She threw up her hands in surrender.

“Fine. You know what? Fine. Just… just go. Go do whatever it is you think you need to do, go… Go take care of yourself.” A bitter grin crossed Connie’s face. “I guess that’s what you’re best at.” She stalked past Gabriel and into the corridor, leaving him alone in his freshly-emptied quarters.

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

A little while later, newly-minted Captain Connie Taylor stood alone in a small observation lounge on Challenger’s upper saucer. The lounge’s windows looked abaft, affording a view of the rear third of the saucer as well as the sleek nacelles and Challenger’s unique wing binders.

Connie toyed idly with the fourth bar on her collar as she stared out the window, her gaze unfocused. Thàla, Celvanos’ first moon, appeared near the planet’s north pole, and her warm light cast a subtle glow and soft shadows through the unlit lounge. Reminded of autumn nights in her hometown of Makehiro, Japan (just south of Kyoto), Connie felt a sudden pang of homesickness. She looked at Thàla and the blue-white gem of Celvanos beyond; it was a beautiful world, certainly, but it wasn’t… Well, it wasn’t home. Connie wondered absentmindedly how Gabriel had taken to Celvanos so quickly, and if she’d ever feel like he did about that world and its people.

A series of subharmonic thumps brought Connie out of her reverie; it was the sound of armored hull plates unlocking and retracting. A moment passed.. two.. three, then Gabriel’s yacht Unforgiven appeared, its ventral showing carbon scoring from weapons fire that Connie didn’t remember. She’d asked Gabriel once why the yacht docked upside-down in relation to Challenger, but when he started in on structural integrity and spaceframe volume optimization, she’d tuned out and just nodded politely until he was done.

As the Unforgiven cleared her docking cradle, a pair of workbees hove into view, towing what Gabriel had called a ‘slug’. Connie had rejected Gabriel’s offer of a replacement yacht, so he pulled the slug from storage somewhere and had it brought to Gateway. Connie didn’t know what, if anything, was in the slug, nor did she care. Gabriel said it was to fill the hole left by the Unforgiven; Connie had just shrugged and promptly forgot about it.

Ion streams flared as Unforgiven’s RCS quads fired, pushing her higher relative to Challenger’s saucer and slightly to the left. The workbees moved in, taking just a couple of minutes to seat the slug. Once the hull plates slid into place over the slug, the workbees jetted back towards Gateway’s service docks. Connie watched until they disappeared from view.

A faint musical tinkling, not unlike brass windchimes, sounded as Challenger’s holographic avatar rezzed up near the back of the lounge.

Your orders, Captain?

Connie thought she’d felt a subtle tinge of acid in the avatar’s tone, especially the way she’d said ‘captain.’

That’s right, thought Connie, her lips tightening. I am the captain. Everyone bloody well needs to deal with it. “Ship’s status, Mr. K’kon?” she said cooly. The avatar opened a channel to Challenger’s new XO.

“We’re getting the deuterium tanks topped off, Captain; should be done in ten minutes.”

“I want Challenger ready in all respects to depart in one half-hour standard.”

“On your word, Captain.”

“Excuse me?” Connie frowned.

“Oh, apologies,” K’kon chittered, before replying according to standard protocol. “Aye, Captain.”

“Very well, XO.” Connie turned her head slightly to acknowledge the avatar, though her eyes remained fixed on the Unforgiven.

“Do we have any pending assignments?” she asked.

No, Captain.

“Standard patrol route, then. And have Mr. Mokul plot a side trip to the Athoki asteroid range; the gunnery crews could use some practice.”

On your word, Captain, said the avatar pointedly before derezzing.

Great. On top of everything else, I’ve got a pissy AI to deal with. Connie glared at the Unforgiven, hanging lazily above Challenger. For some reason, she was annoyed that the yacht was still upside-down relative to Challenger.

“Just leave already!” she barked. “Blessed Hell, just go!” Connie’s ire unexpectedly burned off, replaced by a tightening in her chest and an odd feeling, like she was losing something she didn’t know she’d had.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered. The words spilled out of her mouth almost before she knew what she was saying. Her reply came in the blaze of Unforgiven’s impulse engines as she rotated 180 and leapt away from Challenger, describing an arc that would carry her in the direction of Corvalos, third world in the Celvanos system and home to the dwarven D’haan. Within seconds, the yacht had disappeared.

Challenger is yours now, said a voice in her head; it was oddly familiar yet somehow unrecognizable. All yours. This is what you wanted, and now you’ve got it. So why aren’t you happy about it?

Connie found she didn’t have an answer.

 

[Cobalt Frost]

Eighteen months later

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

GABRIEL, ESCHEWING THE AUTOMATED landing sequence as always, smoothly guided the Unforgiven, his one-time captain’s yacht and often home-away-from-home, into her berth at the top of his starship’s saucer section. As he stepped out of the yacht into a dimly-lit hallway, he was greeted by a young girl’s excited voice.

“You’re back! You’re back!”

“I missed you, Seraph,” Gabriel smiled.

“I missed you too, Daddy…”

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

Two years later
Gateway Station, Admiral MacAllister's office

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

“I’m sorry, Admiral; you want us to go where?”

“I know it sounds absurd, Captain Taylor,” said Admiral MacAllister, “but I need Challenger in the Vuuldhr’an system.”

“With a full battle group in tow?”

Adm. MacAllister forced a smile. “Just Challenger. We’ve actually been invited… Well, you have, at any rate. This could be a diplomatic coup, Connie.”

“Or it could be a trap. The Vuuldhr’ar aren’t above taking hostages, and we’d be a tasty choice. The Vuuldhr’ar have some long-standing grievances with the Celvani.” Connie paused, a sardonic smile crossing her lips. “Then again, who doesn’t?”

Adm. MacAllister laughed. “Sure seems that way. And if if were my call, there’d be a few more ships tagging along.” She shrugged in a ‘what are you going to do’ sort of way.

“On a completely unrelated note, Tacrons 8 and 11 have live-fire exercises in the next parsec over. Been on the schedule for months.”

Connie cocked an eyebrow but smiled knowingly. “That’s.. good to know.”

MacAllister smiled sweetly. “Isn’t it just?”

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

“Well, that was anticlimactic.”

“You would rather they’d tried to take us hostage, Captain?” asked Avallios flatly.

“Or shot us out of the sky?” Lt. Mokul chimed in. “Sweet O’ahu, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many cannon.”

Connie had to nod in agreement with Mokul’s statement. She turned towards Avallios. “Don’t get me wrong, Lieutenant; I’m glad things went smoothly. But with all the tension and anticipation going in to the encounter, to have what happened happen, it’s…” Connie sighed. “It’s unsatisfying.”

She took her place in the center chair and focused her attention on the viewscreen, sighing again. “Set a course for Gateway Station, Mr. Mokul. And Mr. Avallios, call ahead to Carluccio's if you please.

“I need a pizza.”

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

“Gateway Harbor Control, this is starship Challenger, requesting clearance and flight vector to Gateway Station.”

Expecting to hear Gateway’s harbormaster on the comm channel, Challenger’s bridge crew was rather surprised when Admiral MacAllister appeared on the main viewscreen.. “Back already?”

“Meet me at Carluccio's,” said Connie. “I have a pizza waiting, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

There was a chirp-chirp, and the harbormaster’s voice came over the bridge speakers. “You are cleared on approach vector four-alpha-seven, slip 13. Welcome home, Challenger.”

“Proceed on assigned vector, Mr. Mokul. Ahead one-quarter impulse.” A few minutes later, and Gateway station came into view. As Challenger approached, switching from impulse drive to maneuvering thrusters, heading for her berth of slip 13, Connie noticed a new ship docked at Gateway. She was bigger by a third than Challenger, with an oddly familiar design.

“Blessed Hell!” she exclaimed, opening a channel to the station. “What’s that in slip 17?” Again, Adm. MacAllister appeared on the screen.

“I’ll meet you at Carluccio's. You’re buying the drinks, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

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

“All stop, Mr. Mokul.”

“Aye, Captain. Helm answers all stop. Thrusters to stationkeeping.”

“Very well. Mr. Avallios, please transmit the pre-arranged arrival signal.”

“Aye, Captain.” Avallios keyed a sequence into his console, and was rewarded with an oddly reverberating ping! A minute passed in silence before two metal behemoths appeared on the viewscreen. They moved with a grace that defied their demonic bulk, taking up positions to either side of Challenger.

Accompany us.

“You heard the, ah, man, Mr. Mokul. Match their course and speed.

“Matching course and speed, aye.” The two monstrous ships shot forward, with Challenger keeping pace between them. Connie desperately wanted to raise shields and arm weapons, but she’d been specifically instructed not to. After all, she thought with a mental eye roll, we have to be diplomatic about the whole thing. Whatever the ‘thing’ is.

After about 15 minutes at high impulse, Challenger’s gargantuan escorts came to an abrupt stop. Arrayed in front of them was a wall of starships, each one as demonic as the ones flanking Challenger, but larger by a factor of ten. Connie found her throat was suddenly very, very dry.

“Open a channel,” she croaked.

“Channel open,” Avallios replied.

“Bah weep graanah weep ni ni bong,” Connie said, praying her pronunciation had been correct.

Bah weep graanah weep ni ni bong, a voice thundered in reply. It came from everywhere and nowhere, and Connie almost jumped out of her skin.

This is yours. A large object, a mix of spaceship parts and asteroid rock, appeared on the bridge, managing to just barely avoid squashing anyone. Take it and go. All the ships vanished in a heartbeat, seemingly leaving Challenger alone.

“Thank you?” Connie squeaked to herself. She took a moment to regain her composure, then: “Rotate 180, Mr. Mokul, and take us out. Same course we came in on, same speed.

“Somebody beam that thing to a cargo bay, if you please. And if it’s not too much trouble, I could use a new chair.”

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

Adm. MacAllister slugged her glass of Ol’ Janx Spirit and poured another snort. “And that was it?”

“That was it,” Connie replied around a slice of Hawai’ian pizza.

“All that, just to return a derelict space probe. Vuuldhr’ar. Go figure.”

“Do we know where the probe originated from?” asked Connie.

“Not yet. Tech-heads are still working on it. But it’s old, very old.” MacAllister took another drink. “Vuuldhr’ar,” she repeated. “Although, it’s the most we’ve heard from them in decades that didn’t involve some level of vitriol or actual weapons fire.” She polished off the glass but didn’t refill it.

“You know, Admiral, I can’t say as I’ve ever seen you drink anything other than Slurm.” Connie took a final bite, finishing off the slice.

“I usually don’t. But after the headache I got when Captain Frost showed up, I needed something a lot stronger.” She poured another snort, slugged it, and reluctantly corked the bottle.

Connie choked on the bite of pizza she’d just taken. “Waitaminnit… Gabriel? Gabriel’s back?” Connie’s tone was equal parts incredulous and steaming mad. “Since when? And did you say captain?”

 

[Cobalt Frost]

Gateway Station
Admiral MacAllister's office

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

“Every day is Hallowe’en for you, isn’t it?” Adm. MacAllister gave Gabriel a disdainful once-over. “What in God’s name are you wearing this time?”

“I know a few changes have been made recently, but I thought you’d still recognize the uniform of an officer in the Celvani Star Navy.”

“Since when did you get a commission in the Celvani navy?”

Gabriel smiled sheepishly. “Since a few weeks after I’d made first contact with the Celvani. I just never mentioned it to anyone.” He shrugged. “Never had a reason to.”

“You didn’t think a Starfleet officer being commissioned in the navy of a foreign power was worth mentioning?” MacAllister sputtered.

“I never thought I’d be back here,” said Gabriel, with more than a hint of sadness. “I tried very hard to make sure I never would have to come back.” Gabriel sighed. “You know what they say about the best-laid plans of mice and men.”

MacAllister shook her head, pinching her nose between a thumb and forefinger. “And here I’d thought to have been rid of you. Durham let you resign your Starfleet commission, you disappeared for a couple of years… Best-laid plans, indeed.

“I suppose they gave you a ship and crew to go with that ridiculous costume?” Gabriel gave her a knowing smile. “Well, that’s just fantastic. Just goddamned fantastic.” She took a long pull from her ever-present mug of Slurm. “I’m sure I’ll regret asking, but why are you here?”

“Seraph is unattached to any fleet,” Gabriel said. “I have complete discretion as to her deployment and operations.” At this, MacAllister’s eyes widened, though she refrained from commenting. “Given Alliance and Starfleet force disposition in Gateway Sector, and renewed Kethurian aggressions, I thought it would be prudent to place Seraph under your aegis.”

MacAllister laughed mirthlessly. “Contrary to what you and several million Celvani may believe, Mr. Frost, the universe does not revolve around you. We are more than capable of fulfilling our missions without your undoubtedly overpowered new toy.”

Gabriel bristled. “Admiral MacAllister, I will anchor Seraph at Gateway, and I will operate her where and when I please.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You know that Gateway Station belongs to me, and that Starfleet operates here at my discretion.”

“Bullsh.. You’re serious?” Again, a knowing smile. “The Celvani actually gave you the station? I thought that was just some cockamamie urban legend.”

“You’d be surprised what the Celvani have given me,” said Gabriel. The smile disappeared, and his voice cooled considerably. “Or what I could take, if I really wanted to… If I were that kind of man.

“I came to see you out of professional courtesy, Admiral,” he said, resuming a pleasant mien. “We may not like each other, but I have a high respect for your considerable command skills and your conduct as an honorable officer

“My offer is genuine, Admiral, but not indefinite. With or without your blessing, I intend to get Seraph under weigh shortly after Challenger returns and the personnel transfer is complete.” Gabriel handed MacAllister an isolinear chip. “Lt. Avallios is being recalled, and I’ll be taking Kromm and a few others from Challenger.”

“I’m surprised you don’t want Connie Taylor back as your XO. Why not take her, K’kon, Lt. Priest? You know, get the band back together.”

Gabriel shook his head. “And take your best captain from her ship, especially now? Gods above and gods below, Mary Catherine, do you think I’m that much of an ass?” She opened her mouth to reply, but Gabriel cut her off.

“I’m here to help, Admiral, but on my terms. If you can live with that, Seraph and her crew are at your disposal. If not, well, steer clear of Slip 17. Offer’s good until Challenger arrives.” He saluted smartly, then spun on his heel and left the admiral’s office.

The door slid shut after him, leaving MacAllister alone with her thoughts and the Vivaldi that had been playing softly in the background.

“Shit.”

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

Gateway Station
Carluccio's Pizza

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

MacAllister sighed. “Gabriel parked that monstrosity a few hours before Challenger got back. He’d strolled into my office about a week ago, to let me know he was coming back with a ship,” she grabbed a breadstick, “though as far as I know, he’s been back from wherever he’d been hiding for about six months.”

“Six… six months?” Connie took an angry bite of pizza. “I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Him.” Another bite. “What does Adm. Durham think about all this?”

“To be honest, I neither know nor care.” She finished the breadstick. “Not that it matters much what he thinks… at least, in this case. Durham let Gabriel resign from Starfleet, and as a Celvani citizen – because of course the Celvani gave him citizenship – if Gabriel wants to accept a billet in their armed forces, that’s his business. If the Celvani want to put him in command of an overgunned battlewagon, that’s their business.

“Unfortunately, now it’s all my business, and my headache.” She eyed the bottle of Ol’ Janx Spirit greedily, but left it alone. “No rest for the wicked, I suppose.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Gabriel is not some wet-behind-the-ears cadet. He’s actually a competent starship commander.” Connie laughed. “Believe me, no one is more surprised than I.”

“Any command competencies he may have can almost entirely be credited to you.” Connie knew that wasn’t completely true, but she wasn’t going to argue with the admiral. Besides, it was evident that some of Connie’s command tendencies had rubbed off on Gabriel.

“Well… yeah,” Connie smiled. MacAllister picked up another breadstick.

“Now, we’ll see how well he does without you…”

 

[Cobalt Frost]

Two days later
Gateway Station parade grounds

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

“Adm. MacAllister, I present the officers and crew of the Free Stars Alliance strike cruiser Seraph.” In near-perfect unison, the crew snapped to attention and saluted in the Alliance style. Gabriel offered a Starfleet salute, which MacAllister returned, a professionally neutral expression on her face.

“At ease,” she said, lowering her right arm. Seraph’s crew relaxed into the indicated position. MacAllister noted that, while the slight majority of the ‘rank and file’ were Celvani, Seraph’s crew in general and her command crew in particular were drawn from a widely diverse representation of Alliance member – and a few non-member – races.

“That’s quite the, ah, unique mix in your crew,” she remarked to Gabriel. He nodded in acknowledgment of MacAllister’s diplomatic choice of words; he was fairly certain she’d wanted to say ‘menagerie.’

“I wanted to represent the diversity of beings in Alliance space, and be able to call on the strengths of those beings. We are ready to help, how and when we may.”

“I’m sure there will be use for you,” Adm. MacAllister said, still professionally neutral. She turned her attention to the assembled crew. “On behalf of Starfleet and the Alliance, I thank you for your willingness to serve. You are already heroes.”

Seraph’s crew came to attention and saluted again. MacAllister returned the salute, Alliance-style this time, before heading towards a nearby bank of turbolifts. Gabriel turned to address the crew.

“At ease. Seraph will weigh anchor in two days standard; I expect everyone to be aboard in no later than 36 hours standard to begin final preparations for launch. Until then, enjoy your liberty.” He took a moment to look over the crew, nodding appreciatively.

“Dismissed.” Seraph’s crew dispersed, many heading towards food cards or restaurants, while some remained on the parade grounds and engaged in conversation. Gabriel headed towards a bench near a large battleglass window, where a little girl was busy looking at the ships arriving and departing Gateway.

“Thank you for waiting, Seraph,” said Gabriel, sitting next to the girl.

“It was fun, daddy. I love watching the ships come and go. And Celvanos is really pretty today.”

“Yes, yes she is.” They sat in silence for a few minutes, looking at the planet. “See those clouds? There’s a storm forming near the island of Khor’u. It’s going to be a big one.”

“We should warn the fishing fleet,” Seraph said matter-of-factly.

Gabriel stood. “I’ll get a message out, then I’m going to grab a sandwich. Would you like anything?”

“Just some cantu juice, please.” Gabriel headed towards a quiet alcove, tapped his commbadge and sent a signal to the Celvani fishing fleet near Khor’u. As he turned to go to a nearby food cart, he saw Connie.

“That was an impressive display back there, you and your crew.” Her tone was somewhat friendly, but the fire in her eyes spoke volumes to other feelings.

“Conni.. ah, Captain Taylor. I imagine you have a few questions…”

“You could say that,” she growled.

“There are certainly things we need to talk about, but now is really not…”

“Mommy!” Seraph ran towards Connie, latching on to her with a bear hug. Connie returned the hug with a surprised stiffness, looking at Gabriel and mouthing 'mommy?' as she set Seraph down.

“Seraph, sweetie,” said Gabriel, “remember your manners, please.”

“Sorry, daddy.” She bowed politely, and in flawless Japanese: “O-kaa-san -- boku wa Serafu desu. Domo yoroskiku onegai shimasu.” Connie looked very much like the proverbial deer in the headlights.

“Mommy?? "

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

 

[Cobalt Frost]

The first two posts take place after (and slightly edit the ending of) "And Welcome, Hail! Damnation"; the rest of the entry takes place after "Far Away, Far the River."

https://www.trekbbs.com/threads/june-challenge-then-welcome-hail-damnation.123641/

https://www.trekbbs.com/threads/september-challenge-far-away-far-the-river.128701/

 

[Will The Serious]

Your characters stand out for their wonderful development and individuality. Gabriel and Connie seem to have an unsettled relationship that clearly wants desperately to be settled. I can't wait to see how that finally lands. Great ending with a little personal cliff hanger too. What a reunion.

-Will

 

[Oddish]

Liked the Ol' Janx Spirit reference.

 

[Robert Bruce Scott]

Nice turnaround on the surprise parenthood angle...

Thanks!! rbs