Re: Tales of the USS Bluefin - 7: "The More Things Change"
Chapter Eighteen
30 January 2377
Palo Duro, Texas - Flying M Ranch
Earth
T'Ser sat in a very comfortable leather chair with a cup of tea, staring sleepily at a crackling fire. Supper had been a memorable event indeed. The food had been wonderful and she had enjoyed the table banter among the McBrides and their five ranch hands who also came to supper.
Now, seated in the den and wrapped in a serape, T'Ser enjoyed the warmth and the quiet. Bill and Melba were in the kitchen - he was helping Melba put away dishes. They had allowed her to help clear the table, but then shooed her out to the den to relax.
Bill McBride strode into the den and folded his long frame into a rocking chair by a reading lamp and table. He was holding a snifter of brandy. He gestured to his drink.
"Are you sure you won't have one?" he asked.
T'Ser shook her head. "No, thank you. The tea is just right." She looked past McBride at the wall of built-in bookcases (filled with actual books! she marvelled,) and noticed numerous photos and holo-cubes. She walked to the bookcase to peruse the images. There were many group family pictures and images of prize horses and steers. Of course, there were also many pictures of Dale and his younger sister, Debbie.
She smiled at images of Dale as a chubby baby, young boy, gangly teenager, and young adult. She laughed softly at a holo-cube portraying Dale at about 4 or 5 years of age in a bright, red and white cowboy outfit, sitting astride a gray mule.
"That was on his fifth birthday," said Melba, who had walked up behind T'Ser. "For some reason, he loved that old Mule! When he was little, he'd rather ride it than the horses!"
"That's 'cause they were kindred spirits, Mother," said Bill from his chair. "Both tough and stubborn."
"Bill!" Melba said with mock indignation. T'Ser smiled at the thought, and how apt Bill's description had been. Dale had definitely been tough and stubborn!
"And here's his Academy graduation picture," said Melba, proudly, as she handed another cube to T'Ser. Dale peered out at them with his slightly crooked, cocky grin. This image was so much like him that T'Ser's eyes blurred with tears. She had loved that goofy grin!
Melba gazed at T'Ser with kind eyes. "There's something else I want you to see. Come with me." T'Ser followed Melba down the hallway to a small home office. Melba activated the terminal to the house computer.
"Computer, access last four messages from Dale," said Melba.
Messages are now available for viewing. Please indicate video or text only.
"Video, in order they were received." She turned to T'Ser. "I thought you might like to see these. I'll be in the den when you're done." Melba gave T'ser's hand a squeeze, then she left the room, shutting the door behind her.
T'Ser stood still for a moment. The room's only illumination came from a desk lamp and the soft glow of the terminal screen. Taking a deep breath, she eased into an oak swivel chair that squeaked as she pulled it closer to the big desk. On the screen was the brand mark of the McBride's ranch - a letter M with wings.
"Computer, play back first message."
The Flying M disappeared, replaced by Dales' face, seated in his quarters on the Bluefin. "Hey Mom and Dad! Greetings from somewhere in the armpit of the galaxy . . ."
T'Ser's smile widened as she watched and listened to Dale; a tear tracked down her cheek, unnoticed.
* * *
Stardate 54073.8 (30 January 2377)
Star Station Echo - Level 16
Merchant's Alley
Dr. Castille and Lt. Commander Simms moved slowly through the crowd. Castille was content to allow Delta to lead as they moved in and out of shops and kiosks. It had been a very long time since he had been on a date of any kind and he still felt butterflies in his stomach.
They came upon a small Bistro with a small courtyard. "Hungry?" asked Delta.
Castille realized it had been a while since he had eaten anything. "Yes, actually."
"This place has really good Italian food - do you like Italian?" she asked.
"To be honest, I've never had Italian."
Delta's face registered surprise. "You're kiddin' me - right?"
Castille shook his head with a slightly embarassed smile. "No. That's the truth!"
Her face lit up with a brilliant smile. "Well then, you're in for a treat!"
They managed to get a table in the courtyard, allowing them a view of the milling throng of people. Castille allowed Delta to order for them both. She selected eggplant parmigiana with a side of raviolli and a nice, Italian wine of respectable vintage.
As they waited for the main course, their conversation lagged. Delta seemed pensive and a bit distant.
"Delta? Are you alright?" asked Castille, concerned.
"Hmm?" Her hazel eyes had been distant. She refocused on O.C. "I'm so sorry! I zoned out, didn't I?"
Castille smiled. "A little. . . Look, Delta . . . If you're not comfortable going out with me, I understand."
She quickly reached across and grabbed Castille's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Gosh, no, O.C.! That's not it at all!" She hesitated a moment. "I was just thinking about Chief Brundy, that's all."
Castille nodded. "I know that was a shock for you. Were you close?"
She shook her head, a rueful expression on her face. "No, not really. I guess that's what's bothering me. I never really got to know Chief Brundy. He wasn't on the Bluefin for very long, and he was a pretty quiet guy - but nice, you know? I think he hung out with the other non-coms - Brin, Deryx and Sanders - but outside of that, he kept to himself. I always figured that there would be plenty of time to get to know him." She shrugged. "I was wrong."
"I know what you mean. When I was in medical school, I was always focused on my studies and just surviving each day - the class work, lab work, internship, then residency. Then, when I was assigned ship duty, I stayed focussed on my job and never really made time for others."
She smiled. "Well, thank you for making time for me!"
"My pleasure!"
Their food arrived and Castille found that he really liked Italian cuisine. Delta was amused by the gusto with which Castille inhaled his food. After their entree', they ordered Tiramisu and coffee.
"So, O.C., tell me about yourself - where's home?"
Castille placed his coffee cup back in its saucer and pursed his lips. "That's kind of complicated, Delta."
"I'm a good listener," she said, encouraging him.
He shrugged. "Okay - I was born on Earth - Matanzas, Cuba to be exact. I never knew my father - he left when I was still an infant. My mother emigrated to Rigel IV with me and my two older sisters when I was just four years old, so I don't have too many memories of Cuba."
Delta's brow furrowed. "Why Rigel IV? Did she have family there?"
Castille looked down at his coffee cup, rubbing his finger around the handle. "No - no family. My father's involvement with some shady types made it hard for her to keep a job in Matanzas. I suspect he was in the Syndicate." He paused, "Sure, food and free housing were available just about anywhere on Earth, but she hated the stigma of living in government housing. She always told us, "Nothing in life is really free - even the free stuff will cost you." He looked up. "Look, I don't want to bore you . . ."
"You're not boring me, O.C.! Please, go on."
Castille sighed. "We went to Rigel IV because my mother had heard that jobs were plentiful - no questions asked. And that part was right, anyway." He took a sip of coffee and grimaced. It had gone cold. "Let's just say that the type of work mother could get was not what she had anticipated." He swallowed and cleared his throat. "We lived in a pretty rough part of Dronas-Gyr. Probably the worst city on Rigel IV, so you can use your imagination. Mother paid the rent, provided food and kept us clothed and in school. She tried to keep her . . . 'boyfriends' away from us. She wasn't always successful."
Delta had gripped his hand. Her eyes shone with sympathy. "O.C. - How did you cope?" she asked, softly.
"I was pretty street-smart for a kid. I learned how to avoid and evade pretty well. I kept clear of the gangs. Mother would have died of a broken heart if I'd gotten involved with them. Most of the gangs were just training camps for the Syndicate thugs, anyway. So, I escaped by reading, by studying hard in school - such that it was. When I was old enough to leave, I did. Got a scholarship to the University of Chicago, then Johns-Hopkins back on Earth. After I finshed med school and my surgical residency, I decided to see the galaxy by joining Starfleet - and here I am!" He spread his arms and leaned back in his chair, a wan smile on his face.
"What happened to your mother? To your sisters?"
Castille seemed to deflate slightly and his expression grew sad. "I wish I knew . . . I went back to Rigel IV about a year ago, right after the war ended. I had some accumulated leave and wanted to see the family." He paused and gazed at Delta with somber eyes. "But, when I went to the old apartment, they were gone. No one knew where. I found an old neighbor lady who remembered mother and my sisters, but she wasn't much help. She said they left suddenly, about six months earlier, without telling anyone where they were going. I asked how they had been doing, but the neighbor lady got real evasive - like she knew something - something bad - but didn't want to tell me."
"My God, O.C. - that's awful! So you don't have any idea where they went?"
He shook his head. "None. I checked to see if they might have gone back to Cuba, but no luck there. It's like they just fell into a black hole. I've done net searches and checked with numerous police agencies on dozens of planets. Absolutely nada."
* * *
Stardate 54073.9 (30 January 2377)
Thurilin's Moon - Sulistus Prime
Garth regarded the Section 31 operative with barely concealed contempt. Chalmer was an incompetent prima donna, far too full of himself and not half as clever as he supposed. Still, Garth needed the resources that Chalmer could provide. So long as their goals remained aligned, Garth would tolerate the fool.
"So this is all that's left of the infamous Lord K'Tinga," observed Chalmer, lifting the lid of the black box.
Garth gently but firmly took the box from Commander. "I suggest that you be careful with the Req'ti, Commander Chalmer. Without it, we have no DNA from K'Tinga and all our plans would come to naught. Now, have you obtained the required equipment?"
Chalmer maintained a stiff smile. He didn't trust Garth and, truth be told, he thought the man was insane. Still, he had to admit that Garth was a genius and his plan to "shake up" the Klingon High Council was brilliant.
"Certainly, Commodore, though I must say, it wasn't easy! We lost several good agents 'acquiring' the equipment. I hope it will be worth it."
Garth fixed Chalmer with a withering stare. "If you brought me what I need, I assure you that it will be 'worth it,' Commander. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get to work. There is much to be done."
* * *
Stardate 54074.1 (31 January 2377)
USS Bluefin
Star Station Echo - Spacedock 4
Sleep eluded Captain Akinola as he replayed his meeting with Captain Lhar'Shon. Was he embarking on a fool's errand? He didn't think so. Still, he was going to sit down with Admiral Bateson. Morgan probably knew more about Klingon culture than anyone in the sector. Could Garth really pull off this crazy plan? Lhar'Shon seemed to think it was possible, and if so, Garth had to be stopped.
He was also troubled by the thought of collaborating with Lhar'Shon and Starfleet Intelligence. He had developed what he considered to be a healthy distrust of intelligence operatives over the course of his career. Many had proved to be opportunists, others were conspiracy nuts. Most just liked knowing more than you did.
With Lhar'Shon, he was uncertain. So far, she had not lied to him - at least as far as he knew. But he was loathe to place the lives of his crew in her hands, so he was going to be very cautious. But being cautious was not his normal nature. If you dance with the Devil, you're liable to get burned, Akinola! he thought, morosely.
He threw aside the bed covers and padded to the sink, splashing some water in his face. He dressed in the dark and left his cabin to prowl around his ship, deep in thought.
He passed by the officers' wardroom and heard voices. He peeked inside to see Lt. Bane and Commander Strauss talking. Strauss laughed softly and Akinola noticed their fingers intertwined across the table.
He moved quietly down the corridor, not wishing to disturb them. His mood was a bit lighter though. He smiled to himself and thought, At least some things are right in the universe.
* * *
)
