The Vulcan - Episode 12: Distant Relatives (Part 1)

[Will The Serious]

The Vulcan
Table of Content:
Ep. 1: The Needs of the Many
Ep. 2: The Needs of the Few
Ep. 3: 'T' Minus Negative
Ep. 4: A Pon Too Farr
Ep. 5: Seeing is Believing, Part 1
Ep. 6: Seeing is Believing, Part 2
Ep. 7: Mind in a Vat
Ep. 8: The Job
Ep. 9: Red Giants and White Dwarves
Ep. 10: Zenfu Fighting
Ep. 11: Self-Help Guru
Ep. 12: Distant Relatives, Part 1
The Vulcan Character Highlights
This is VNM-One for the Vulcan News Media ‐〔Writing Challenge entry and preview of a later episode〕

Distant Relatives - Episode 12 (Part 1)

SERIES PROLOGUE:
We see across vast expanses to impossibly distant worlds. We look out into Space and witness the beginning of the Universe, the birth of planets, and the death of stars. Civilization turns to Space for knowledge, adventure, and hope. Space is also deadly, a wall to growth and progress. It is our past and our future. This is where Vulcan and her crew live, work and explore. Join the lives of these beings from different and distant worlds, who have been brought together to find refuge, wonder, friendship, and a home in the greatest frontier.

The theater on deck ‘C’:
Sam is standing before the musicians on the stage: S'Talla seated with her booch between her knees, Art Santayana with his bass slung low from his shoulders, Ya and Ne facing each other across their double-sided keyboard, Cialoa with her chi'meis attached to her fingers, Naxx holding his recat-pukk, Spalloz on a stool with a traditional Vulcan harp, and even Damian Apollonius has brought out his limited guitar skills to find a place in the crew's band, with Randool Harrix standing before three different length conga-like drums with legs. Charlie too is there with a violin.

Sam sets her flute down on the director’s podium and moves into open space. The skirt of her typical business style dress swishes gently above her knees as she moves.

“The dance goes like this. It's weird, I know, but the characters were talking to me, telling me how to move,” Sam explains. “They wanted you to learn their dance, S'Talla.”

S'Talla points out, “You were under the influence of a strong hallucinogenic and Sattvva June's mental controls.”

Sam defends herself, “Yes, I know, but that does not discount the patterns I saw in these pictographs. I know the characters weren't really talking, but you confirmed that the ancient Ca'Tau told stories
through dance, why not directions, locations too?”

S'Talla responds, “That is possible.”

Sam tells her, “Just watch. I'm not a dancer, but the music dictates the dance. Open your mind to its logic.”

Sam begins to move, her hips roll and she waves her arms up over her head, brings her elbows together in front of her and lowers them with her fists against each other until they are at eye level, then spreads her arms out in a horizontal gesture. There is an Old Earth Polynesian vibe to the rolling hip movements.

Cia begins to click her chi'meis with a complimentary rhythm. Randool starts in on the drums and suddenly the dance that Sam is moving through takes on a primitive, aboriginal quality about it. The dance become almost decipherable with readable meaning, when Sam turns very deliberately to the right and repeats her movements with some variations to the hands and feet. S'Talla, watching closely, starts to play the song from the scroll. The rest of the band watch in fascination. The dance and the music fit together beautifully.

Charlie follows the lower tones of the booch with his violin, then they all join the playing of the song.
Sam moves her head, shaking her hair as though it was longer and flowing. She moves to where S'Talla is seated and stops her friend's playing. S'Talla understands Sam's tug on her sleeve and lowers her booch to the floor. She stands.

Sam tries to show S'Talla the movements while the rest of the band play. The full body movements become highly expressive. Cialoa, her chi'meis, like finger cymbals or castanets, clicking rhythmically, moves into the line with Sam and S'Talla to dance also. Cia continues her exotic rhythms without pause. Her movements are more flowing and natural than either S'Talla's or Sam's.

Sam beckons Art to join, but he simply smiles and plucks his bass while shaking his head. Sam turns to Charlie. He's willing, so he stops his playing to join the dance.

“That's it!” shouts Sam, getting more excited. “It takes four dancers.”

Everyone stops.

“In my hallucination, there were four pictographs dancing together, set-off from the others. The dance needs four dancers. There's a message here, I can feel it.” Sam is excited. “Vulcan, can you put the planet Vulcan's constellation charts up on the screen?”

The stage is equipped with a projected holoscreen. The crew often watch the news from the planet Vulcan on the big floating screen. Between the band and the dancers, a 3-dimensional projected field of stars appears with golden lines connecting the stars in groups. The screen, as Vulcan projects it, morphs into two dimensions, the stars shifting from filling the stage in 3-D to a flat plane of stars. The view is from the perspective of someone on the surface of the planet Vulcan. Everyone moves into the seats below the stage to get the planetarium effect.

“Of course, Sam,” agrees Vulcan, "This is the standard historical constellation chart, taught to Vulcan history students, of Vulcan's Northern hemisphere. There are a few close approximations of the points on this chart with the notes in the music.” Vulcan changes the screen and adds the southern hemisphere. “The Ca'Tau are from the equatorial islands, so they would have been familiar with the stars of both hemispheres.”

S'Talla, standing on the edge of the stage with Sam, Cia, and Charlie, asks, “What about 5000 years ago?”

“Yes,” Vulcan agrees again. “The scroll was written under a different sky.”

The star field shifts slightly to match the new dates.

S'Talla studies the constellations as they have been traditionally grouped. “I think my ancestors saw different constellation groupings than the way we group them today. Do you have any records of ancient
constellations?”

Vulcan explains, “There are a few Ca'Tau records, but while I can name fourteen Ca'Tau constellations, the actual stars that make up those groups are little more than educated guesses.”

“Sehlat Fi’Klashausu,” says S'Talla, “is one everyone knows. It consists of these seven stars.” S'Talla points at the brightest seven stars in the northern hemisphere, above the projected equator line. A new outline follows her finger; a rectangle of four stars, a fifth star sits upwards in the center between the two lower stars, making it almost look like triangular hind legs. At the higher end of the rectangle are two stars that represent stretched open arms and one cap star for a head.

As S'Talla traces the stars with her finger, Vulcan draws thin glowing blue lines to connect the constellation, then fits an outline of a more realistic representation of a rearing sehlet, to further enhance the view. S'Talla names the seven stars as she points them out, “Norellus, Pernaia Major, Dekendi, Terra, Draylax, Delinia, and Akaal.”

Sam says, “We need to go there.”

“Where?” asks S'Talla. “Sehlat Fi’Klashausu is made up of stars hundreds of light years apart, some closer than others.”

“No,” answers Sam, “Ancient Vulcan.”

 

[Will The Serious]

Kazzak's Lab:

Kazzak is standing before a projection screen covered in complex equations. Francesca Gödel is using a stylus to write them, while the professor is explaining to S'Talla and Sam, “By algebraically transforming our energy formulas, and putting the time and the graviton matrix scalar on the other side, we have the method used by the Janus scientists to create the fold in space-time.”

Sam asks, “So, it is possible?”

“Yes, of course it is possible,” explains Professor Kazzak. “We were in the future, four months and nine days ago. It is only logical that it is possible.”

S'Talla says, “how soon can you get us there?”

Doctor Gödel turns from her writing to answer, “We we we we can't j just just take th th the ship and and and crew b b ba back five five five five th thousand years… in in into the p p p past.”

“What Francesca means,” clarifies Kazzak, “is, when we traveled into the future, we didn't create the fold; that was created by the scientists in the future. We had to create the energy variance on our
side in order to jump across.”

Kazzak turns to look at the formulas. He points to a sigma notation that contains the calculus integral for energy conversion from gravitons over time. “Francesca, the star charts, please.”

Francesca Gödel taps her stylus to the bar at the bottom of the projection screen and the formulas disappear to be replaced by a field of stars with the Vulcan planetary system at its lower center.

“Your theory would need a star somewhere around here or one in this region,” Kazzak states, pointing to two empty columns of space. “There are no visible stars in either possible regions, in our time, and…” Kazzak makes a sweeping gesture at the stardate displayed on the side. The clock numbers scroll backwards rapidly. “And, there were no stars there five thousand years ago.”

Francesca states, “Wh wh with…out one one one of these st st stars t t to t tel tell us where to to st st st start, the the the pos pos possible cho cho choice es are t t t two many.”

Kazzak turns to face Sam and S'Talla. “Without this imaginary first star, we have no starting place. Logic tells us that it would be pointless to travel back five thousand years into the past to witness an event that did not happen.”

Sam argues,“There was something there. We are missing what that was, we have our coordinates misaligned, the dance is not quite right, or something. We can find what we're missing 5000 years ago.

“If you're saying you can't get us there, that is one thing, but the scroll tells us where to find the stone. We just don't have the dance right or the starting point right, or something, but we can find those answers five thousand years in the past, when the scroll was
written.”

S'Talla asks, “Can you help us travel to the past, Professor?”

Kazzak answers thoughtfully, “I do not think we can. The ship has the energy to do it, but we would not be able to return without someone in this time to pull us back.”

“W w we we would n not have t t to go,
Pro Pro Professor,” interjects Doctor Gödel.

Kazzak turns to his human assistant and says, “Of course. Logically we need to remain behind to bring you back. What are you proposing, Francesca, that we could use one of the shuttle craft?”

Francesca nods her head, but says, “W we cou could, b b b but the e… e… e… equip…ment would fill th th the whole sh shu shuttle cr cr cr cra cra pod. I it would be be be easy easy easier to to mod…if modify a a a… a transporter b b be beam.”

The professor, growing more interested in this project, asks, “Vulcan, can you bring up the technical data for
your transporter beams?”

“Of course, Professor,” answers Vulcan while bringing the technical data up on the laboratory screen. “Using a derivative of yours and Doctor Gödel's formulas we can adjust a transporter beam to cross a fold
you create in space-time.”

“That is it!” Professor Kazzak almost shouts excitedly, “Francesca, you are brilliant.”
-

Vulcan entering orbit around the planet Vulcan:

Captain's Log:
stardate three dash four four eight one point two. We have returned to Vulcan. We are hopeful that our registration as a private shipping company will allow us to remain long enough in orbit for us to travel back in time.

Spirro and T'Pia are modifying our transporter hardware while Chang Sanfeng and Ya and Ne work with Doctor Gödel and Professor Kazzak to program the algorithms that will send a team to the planet surface five thousand years into Vulcan's past. Our purpose is to find the location of the mythical
Vaikar-Kau-Bureki, the stone of wisdom.

-

The bridge planning room:

Sam and S'Talla are standing over the Ozhit-Pa-Tepul-T'Stukhtra, discussing the mission to Vulcan's past. Kazzak and Francesca Gödel are on the other side of the table concentrating on the scroll.

“You will stay back with the ship,” S'Talla tells her friend Sam.

Sam replies, “Yes, S'Talla. I don't look Vulcan. Besides, no one knows Vulcan's computer systems better. I should stay to help Professor Kazzak and Francesca.”

S'Talla continues to describe their team composition, “We can't bring advanced technology that might affect our past's natural progress. Logic says the violent nature of my ancestors dictates a trained martial background for our landing party. Skyvik and myself are obvious. Mister Chang can be made to pass for Vulcan, and he has been working with T'Perl to teach her self-defence; like you. Spirro also has extensive OSS training. He will come too.”

T'Perl, and T'Pia are seated around the other end of the table. T'Pia says, “I think I should come along. Ancient Vulcans were matriarchal. Even three-thousand years before the awakening, Vulcan's weren't primitive animals,” T'Pia rationalizes. “I should be respected there as an elder. That way I can teach T'Perl and Charlie the major points of pre-Surak etiquette.”

S'Talla gives a short history lesson. “It was five-thousand years ago that the four magic sisters led their armies out to conquer the mainland. I was named after the first of the quadruplets. My mother shares the name of The Warrior Queen, their mother.”

T'Perl asks, “How primitive were the Ca'Tau of that time?”

S'Talla answers, “My ancestors were in what Earth historians would refer to as their Bronze Age, Although there is some evidence that they worked with iron, as well. They were master stone masons and sailors.”

S'Talla goes on to point out the details of their group. “The Ca'Tau were socially organized. It was typical for Vulcans to travel as a family. My island ancestors particularly traveled in groups to crew their sailing canoes. We need four dancers, and it would be more unusual for two or three strangers to show up than five or six.”

The door to the planning room opens and Spirro and Spalloz step in with Charlie. Charlie has makeup on to give his skin a slight blue-green hue, his eyebrows have been shaped to go with the prosthetic
points of his ears. His hair style now brings his bangs into a point in the center of his forehead.

Spalloz announces, “I understand you will have 32 days to accomplish your quest and return to the beach where you will beam down.”

Kazzak looks up from studying the Ozhit-Pa-Tepul-T'Stukhtra, and explains, “You will have a 196 second window or you will have to wait another 2 years, 32 days and 29 minutes. Logically, we are trying to coordinate both time and location.

“Our calculations can maintain position over the beach head where we will set you down, but every second, the planet's surface moves through its rotation while also moving in orbit around our sun. After 32 rotations of the planet, the calculated error becomes too dangerous to attempt.”

Francesca says, “I it will take a a another another ta ta ta two years years, 32 da da da days, be before we we can b b be certain of of of a our a a a align alignment, a aga again.”

Kazzak goes on, “There may be options, but not reasonable ones.”

Charlie says to Sam, “How do I look, Ms. Kelly? Maybe I was Vulcan in another life.”

T'Perl grins from the other end of the table. She looks at Charlie and says, “Wow Charlie, you are almost good looking.”

S'Talla inspects Charlie for a moment, then adds, “The ears are pleasing.”

“I think you are very handsome Charlie,” replies Sam, with a grin. “Don't let their Vulcan desert humor get to you.”

T'Perl asks, “Desert humor?”

Sam explains, “Dry.”

Charlie responds to Sam, “I'm not sure your sympathy isn't worse for my ego.”

-

The transporter cabin:

Skyvik, Sparro, S'Talla, T'Pia, T'Perl, and Charlie are prepared to beam into the past, 5000 years ago. They are dressed as S'Talla's ancestors would have dressed. Their colorful cloth skirts wrap around the upper half of their thighs, simple thong sandals cover the bottoms of their feet, and the women are wearing a type of batik-cloth strip, twisted together over their sternums and covering their chests, tied in the back. S'Talla has unfastened her braid from around the crown of her head and allows it to hang long over the front of her left shoulder. The end, hanging well below her waist, is whipped with a leather thong, tied to a purple seashell.

The men, Skyvik, Spirro, and Charlie are bare chested but for beaded necklaces that conceal communicators with their universal translators, to maintain inter-party contact, and communication. Charlie looks skinny standing next to the giant Vulcan, with Spirro on his other side.

Naxx is there to see the party off and comments to Skyvik, “Skyvik, you must feel naked without your phasers?”

Skyvik simply says, “No.”

Charlie gives Ya and Ne a thumbs-up as they finish their programming of the transporter. They both return the gesture with perfectly coordinated timing, along with a goofy, un-bynar smile on each of their two faces.

Kazzak reminds the away-party, “you have exactly 32 days. After that, the alignment with Doctor Gödel's and my calculations will have too much error for continued attempts at a blind transporter retrieval. I can recalculate, but since we have no way of communicating, I can only give you an alternative second retrieval time 2 years, 32 days, and 29 minutes later.”

Skyvik says, “We will be at the first time and location.”

S'Talla asks of her team, “Is everyone still good with our plan?”

Heads nod. Four of the five, Spirro T'Pia, T'Perl, and Charlie voice their agreement, “Yes.” Skyvik considers it a given that he is willing, and doesn't bother to respond.

S'Talla places her palms together and points her fingertips at Ya and Ne standing on stools at the transporter console, and says, “Let us go!”

Waving, Francesca says, “G g g good luck!”

S'Talla meets Sam's eyes with hers as the team fade into a disappearing cloud of photons.

 

[Will The Serious]

A tropical beach on Vulcan, 5000 years earlier:

The team appears on the planned beach. There are a dozen dugout catamaran canoes with short masts and paddles aboard, pulled up above the high water line. What they did not expect was the small fleet of longboats, just landing; six of the wooden vessels, their oars being shipped while Vulcans, in strips of fur over one or both shoulders protecting their otherwise bared chests above loose pantaloons and booted feet, spring forth over the sides and onto the beach.

They pull sturdy swords and axes and short spears from belt or boat, and heft light shields over free forearms before charging up the beach. The nearest group race directly at the time traveling away team.

The battle cries from the viking-like raiders is met with the sounding of a horn when a bare chested Vulcan, who, carrying a bundle of kindling, steps out of the trees that line the beach and spots the landing raiders. He is quick to drop the sticks of wood, and lift a large shell from his hip to raise it to his lips, and sound the blast.

In a moment, a second horn is heard, then a third.

Charlie is the first to orient his senses to the beach landing and react to the aggressive charge.

S'Talla is right beside him, then Skyvik steps up to clothesline the first attacking raider before he can drive a spear into Spirro. The five crew form a line between T'Pia and the charging raiders in time to meet the bulk of the longboat crew racing up the beach.

16 in all have hurtled over the side of the nearest longboat and formed the charge up the sand. The other five boats are discharging a similar invasion of attackers racing for the tree-line.

Charlie knocks a battle axe aside and carries the man's arm around, spinning him into the path of the man waving a sword behind him. Both enemies fall. Spirro breaks the sword wrist of the attacker attempting to flank Skyvik, who is occupied with two attackers. Skyvik holds one disarmed man by the neck, picking him up off the ground and hurtles him into a spearman. The stumbling spearman loses his spear when T'Perl hits him with a “spear hand” to the throat and kicks his left knee out at the same time.

S'Talla is like a wind, blowing through the group of charging warriors, her arms whirl, disorienting, feet tripping attackers, her body is a weapon, moving, redirecting, confusing. She knocks attackers into each other with shoulders, hips, and ribs. Her arm and leg movements are a dance, natural yet unpredictable, tripping, disarming, over-balancing anyone who is near. The captain bends and raises, a man buckles across her back, then flips up through the air. A hurtled spear is caught mid-air and the shaft sweeps fur clad men off their feet.

Charlie leaps and tumbles over the top of an attacker, his grip of the man's short braid, forces the opponent to bend backwards with Charlie's momentum. The raider is dragged to the ground. Charlie rolls to his feet at S'Talla's side.

The four charging swordsmen haven't a prayer. The raiders’ primary strategy seems to be founded in their straight brutality, racing directly at their targets with speed, power, and volume. S'talla whips her long braid out with a snap of her head, and the tapered, rope-like braid arcs around. The seashell, laced at the end, cuts a thin line across the bridge of the nose of all four attackers, causing them to flinch, their green blood welling into their eyes. Charlie grabs one of the middle Vulcans in front, pulling himself up, and stretching out to kick two of the others in a split kick while he hoists himself over the center man's head and drives him to the ground with his weight. S'Talla is almost ‘matter-of-fact’ in her disabling the remaining attacker, sending him to the sand with an expertly applied nerve pinch at the base of his neck.

The beach is then flooded with defending islanders, pushing back against their raiders. They are well matched, but the ferocity and concentrated tactics of the raiders has them beginning to fall slowly back.

Skyvik slugs a man to the ground, and Spirro performs a nerve pinch on the last in the attack party, leaving the six crewmates looking around at the battle raging along the beach. The fallen raiders at their feet are in no condition for either retreat nor continued attack.

“We should help,” declares Charlie, springing into a run towards the nearest group of defenders, a mix of men and women, against another longboat’s worth of attackers.

The islanders are easy to distinguish, with their colorful skirts or kilts, their shell necklaces and hair jewelry, bare legs and naked torsos.

T'Perl, her Vulcan blood running high, is the first to follow Charlie's sprint across the sand, and Spirro is quickly behind the young woman. Skyvik looks to S'Talla, who steps up beside T'Pia.

T'Pia calls after the racing group, “T’Perl, no!”

S'Talla nods at Skyvik, who turns to follow. S'Talla says to T'Pia, “Skyvik won't let anything happen to her, and neither will Charlie.”

The fight on the beach turns when Charlie reaches the battle. What was a slow retreat for the islanders, backing them into the trees, becomes a decided push against the raiders, driving them back towards their boats.

S'Talla watches as she and T'Pia move cautiously closer to the fighting.

To T'Pia, she comments, “It seems my ancestors’ Direct confrontational defenses are not the sophisticated martial arts I had expected to find.”

T'Pia comments, “The fighting appears ferocious.”

They get close enough to the mass of warriors clashing on the beach that they are barely in the wake of injured and felled attackers left behind by Skyvik, Spirro, T'Perl, and Charlie. The four have formed a ‘wedge’ of defence between the nearest raiders and the island defenders.

“Ferocious, yes, but no more advanced than their harassers. Perhaps history does not record the origins of Vulcan martial arts correctly.”

On the far end of the battlefield, a group of raiders appear from the trees dragging four female Vulcans and two large chests of something heavy. The women, leashed by their long braids and rope tied to their wrists, are transferred to raiders waiting on the beach, and split into three groups. Some of the closest raiders brake off to help heave the heavy chests towards two of the beached longboats.

S'Talla, seeing the four women being dragged towards the boats, yells, “Skyvik, they have captives!”.

Skyvik and Charlie are flanking T'Perl, while Spirro fights on the other side of Charlie.

Three raiders attack from Skyvik's side, preventing him from abandoning his position on T'Perl's right. T'Perl is fighting a female raider. Women make up about one third of the attacking force. The woman charging at T'Perl is violent in her rush, letting out a blood curdling war cry. T'Perl is able to step to the side towards Skyvik, who is busy keeping three other attackers off her right flank. She sweeps her left arm up and rolls her hand to grip the thrusting spear behind the spear head. T'Perl continues her turn and uses the butt of the woman's own spear shaft to catch her attacker under her left arm pit, knocking the attacking woman to the ground.

Charlie has been watching the rest of the group closely, and responds, at the momentary reprieve represented by T'Perl's downed attacker, “Spirro, I'll get the captives! Keep them off T'Perl.”

Without waiting for a reply, he races towards the nearest long boat being loaded with two of the four captives. Charlie hits them with the energy of a Volcano. He slams his lighter body into the largest Vulcan against the longboat gunnel. The raider’s battle axe flies over the stern, into the waves. Charlie doesn't give the man a chance to recover and uses his heel to force the larger raider’s head against the boat, knocking him out.

Another man, his grip on the rope attached to one of the two women, swings a sword with his other hand at Charlie. Charlie bends out of the way of the swing, then pushes the man's wrist until his sword comes around again and severs the rope connected to the woman's wrist. The pommel catches the man's chin and Charlie buckles the swordsman's knee, dropping him to the sand.

The swift and violent attack that results in their captive racing free, distracts two others trying to load the second woman. They let go of the woman's leash with one hand each, reaching for an axe and a sword, turning to face Charlie's charge.

The woman fights back. Her long braid wrapped around her head, the way S'Talla normally wore hers, means she has a collar with a leash. It is being held by the man in the boat, while the man, still on the sand, holds her wrists. The captive woman reaches up and yanks hard on that leash, pulling the boatside man off his feet.

Charlie punches the axe wielder in the nose, then boxes his ears, stunning him. Charlie is swift in catching the weakly swinging axe and severs the wrist ties with a lightning swing, burying the blade in the planking of the longboat. Charlie steps on the crouching man's knee, and hurls himself up to the man's shoulders, then over the side of the boat to face the raider pulling himself up to his feet again.

A throw from Charlie lands the man at the woman's feet. Free, she yanks the axe stuck in the boat planking loose, and drives the axe down to kill the fallen kidnapper.

Charlie checks, she's free and advancing on the other incapacitated raider, so Charlie leaps over the side to rescue the woman already aboard the next boat. He ducks a spear that sticks in the sand behind him. The spear thrower scrambles for another weapon, but Charlie runs beneath the high bow and out of sight.

When the spearman turns to follow young Charlie and catch him emerging from the otherside, he misses Charlie double back beneath the boat's gunnels. Charlie is able to hurtle the railing directly behind the distracted man.

Only moments pass before the spearman sails backwards off the boat, his spear in Charlie's hand.

Two other raiders aboard turn to defend the boat, but the haft of the spear sweeps them off their feet and a figure-eight twirl brings the sharp spearhead across the ties that restrain their captive. The third woman is free once Charlie knocks the two downed raiders out.

One last boat and captive. Charlie has to get by six raiders who were pushing one of the large chests up over the side of the boat. They dropped the chest; various items, metal ores, jewels, and rough and polished stones, small statues, metal objects like knives, and tools spill out. Six Vulcans stand between Charlie and the bound woman aboard the boat. She is guarded by two more raiders, a man and a woman.

Charlie stops for a moment to take a deep breath.

“Are you sure you want me to come aboard? Maybe you could just hand her over?”

The eight raiders stare in surprise at Charlie, then the biggest one on the ground roars, and raises his spear to attack Charlie.

“Yeah.” Charlie didn't think that would work, but what if it had.

He bobs to his right, steps backwards as he guides the spearhead into beach sand. The dropping of the spear tip forces the charging Vulcan off balance and Charlie pole vaults the Vulcan at the blunt end of the spear, up and over onto his back.

Charlie uses the spearhead to fend off two sword swings, before he abandons the spear for speed and mobility. He rolls to a low horse stance. He is behind a Vulcan attacker.

Charlie jabs an index knuckle, thumb tucked behind it for support, into the right temple. The raider goes down. Charlie has to duck, then jump to the left, then right, then left again. He catches an axe under his arm and twists his body, dragging the wielder around and into a spearman and a swordsman. Charlie jams a palm heel into the haft of the axe, trapping the Vulcan hand that grips it. He knocks the swordsman's blade aside with the axe head, and kicks the sword pommel, sending the weapon spinning out over the water. Still gripping the Vulcan hand and axe handle, Charlie twists again, swinging the trapped Vulcan man into the spear.

Charlie ducks another axe swing, but the axe blade takes out the axeman he'd been holding onto. Charlie summersaults over the reversing spear haft and steps on the forward hand that holds the shaft. The spear and wielder crash to the ground, the Vulcan's hand pinned beneath Charlie's foot. Charlie runs up on the man's head, springing off of him to drive a knee into another Vulcan's chest. Charlie catches the Vulcan's sword hand in his own hand and slices across the back of another Vulcan's wrist, forcing him to drop his spear.

Suddenly Charlie is surrounded by brightly dyed skirts and island dressed natives. He is now free to leap off the back of another enemy to propel him aboard the longboat upon which the captive woman is being held. Her hair is tied to a ring in the base of the mast and four, not two, raiders are there waiting Charlie's advance.

One of the Vulcans holds a sword over the kneeling woman.

“Stop or she dies,” declares the raider.

Charlie doesn't stop. The swordsman swings, as Charlie kicks an oar that pivots, the flat of the blade smacking the woman on the side of the face causing her to cry out, but also bend to the side and avoid the sword stroke. The dropping swordedge is blocked by the heavy oar’s blade.

Charlie is upon the man, the Vulcan's sword arm twisted, the blade dropping into the bilge of the boat, and a crack indicates an elbow popping, before the Vulcan falls, guided by Charlie, sweeping into two other shipmates.

Charlie can't stop. He has to take out the forth Vulcan, an angry looking woman with an axe and a shield.

Charlie faints right, throws himself left and sweeps the woman's legs out from under her. The axe embeds itself between Charlie's legs, missing vital organs by two hairs' breadths.

Charlie gets to his feet, just when the islanders swarm aboard and overwhelm the remaining crew of raiders.

Charlie stops and looks to the woman who is holding the side of her face, glaring at him while an island male carefully unties her hair braid from the metal ring.

Another woman, the one who took up the axe stuck in the planking of the other boat and killed a fallen attacker, commands, “Burn these garbage scows, and bring the small round-eared man to the commons.”

Charlie reaches up and finds his prosthetic ears are gone. He searches the beach with his eyes until he meets S'Talla's; T'Perl, Skyvik and T'Pia standing with her.

 

[Will The Serious]

Vulcan's transporter room:

The last fading particles of light of the away party disappear and Sam turns to Francesca, “Okay, we have a month to wait!?”

Kazzak says, “I will just need a few minutes.”

Francesca answers Sam, “W we don't n n n need a a a a month.”

Sam looks quizzically at the doctor, then at the Professor. “I thought you said we have to wait 32 days?”

Kazzak explains, “The away party has 32 days. I have calculated both the sending and the retrieval from this location at this time. We have 79 minutes within which to retrieve them 32 days after they have landed in the past. Beyond that, I will need to recalculate, but chances of success fall off the more the geometry differs from the moment we sent them back.”

Sam breaths a sigh of relief. “Thank you for clarifying that. I thought we were going to have to wait 32 days in orbit to retrieve them.”

“Na na n no!” states Francesca, “

Kazzak is working with his PADD. He punches in calculations and checked them on the transporter control console.

Both Ya and Ne, who have been programming the console with the data Kazak has been sending, say, “We have our time offset and coordinates programmed in.”

Ya says, “Sensors can not read…”

Ne continues, “the planet 5000 years ago,”

Both say, “so this is a blind transport retrieval.”

Kazzak studies his readout, holds a hand up, then drops it and says, “Now!”

The transport alcove engages, the sparkling waves of light flash in a column between the deck and ceiling emitters, then a light sprinkling of beach sand litters the transporter pad, and nothing else.

Sam says, “Try again!”

The transporter activates again. Nothing.

“Try again!” Sam demands.

Again, the transporter activates, a series of six light columns illuminate the transporter cabin bulkhead and only a tiny amount of more sand sprinkles across the transporters pads.

Sam, growing more anxious, says, “We keep trying until we get them.”

Francesca replies, “W We we ca ca can't.”

Kazzak explains, “The calculations are too precise. It isn't just our position in time that has moved, but we can not be certain of the exact position in space. The planet rotates at a surface speed along the equator of one thousand five hundred and twenty-nine kilometers per hour. Five thousand years ago, it was point three kilometers per hour faster. Plus we are orbiting around our sun at considerably faster speeds than that. I have to recalculate our new relative positions in space for both now and the past.”

Ya says, “Our options are…”

Ne adds, “recalculate for retrieval at the same location and date…”

Ya reasons, “But we already know that failed.”

Ne says, “S'Talla and the others were not there at the right time.”

Ya says, “Or we proceed with the plan to retrieve them…”

Ya and Ne both answer, “two solar year and thirty two days later.”

Naxx answers, “If they did not make the first rendezvous, the chances of them making the second are even less.”

Kazzak says, “That is the only option. We can not communicate any other time or location.”

Sam, frustrated, demands, “Make it so.”

-

The Vulcan island village 5000 years in the past:

Island villagers are carrying fallen warriors back from the beach, along a short trail into their village. S'Talla, Skyvik, T'Perl, T'Pia, and Spirro are in the midst of a group of villagers walking them to the central village courtyard. They are greeted with a mix of grass huts, clay, and stone structures. There is a wide lagoon along the shores of which their village is built.

At the far side of the wide, central courtyard, towers a massive stone pyramid. Broad, steep steps reach up the slope of the face turned towards the approaching villagers. There are men and women working to put out the fires of two huts. Three dead raiders are being dragged out.

The woman, her braided hair around her head like a crown, still carrying the battle axe she'd picked up, begins by raising her arms in the air and crying out to those who are there to greet them, “We beat them!”

There's a chorus of encouraging cheers, then a pounding of many fists and feet on wood or chests or ground. Those not engaged in fireman duties leap and whoop.

Giving the village a chance to settle down, the woman calls out again, “Their crafts are waiting to add their wood to our fires.”

Another, cheer and pounding reverberate through the village.

Charlie is standing between two large island warriors, and the woman turns to him. Her eyes roam over his wiry form, then focus on his round ears. She looks to the side, where the last woman Charlie saved is holding her swollen face, then back to Charlie.

“You have the gratitude of all the Ca'Tau. I am Queen S'Tajia. You saved me, but most importantly, you taught the Pa’Unnic to think twice before attacking us again. They are a blight on the Ca'Tau people.”

Charlie notices the queen looks very familiar, as he replies, “I could not allow the taking of captives when I could stop them. None of us could.” Charlie tilts his head towards S'Talla and the others. He realizes why she looks so familiar.

Queen S'Tajia turns her gaze from inspecting Charlie's ears to the rest of the away team.

Her eyes go straight to Skyvik, who towers above the others, but then she focuses on S'Talla. She turns and marches over, two warriors flank her.

“You are blue,” the queen states in wonder.

S'Talla replies, “You are not.”

S'Tajia studies S'Talla for a moment. If they were not twins, they look so much like sisters, only their differing skin colors would stop people from making the mistake. The two Vulcan women are about the same age. Queen S'Tajia then inspects each of the others, bowing her head slightly in deference to T'Pia; she then returns to S'Talla.

“There is something,” S'Tajia says to S'Talla, “familiar about you. You are Ca'Tau!” Her inspection follows S'Talla's braid down to the seashell whipped to the end, hanging just above her bare knees. “What is your name?”

“S'Talla,” S'Talla states simply.

The woman quickly meets S'Talla's eyes. “You are royal!?”

“My mother is descended from queens. I am named after distant ancestors.”

The young queen bows her head slightly, as she had done to T'Pia.

Your… servant?” S'Talla makes no change in her posture to indicate the veracity of the queen's guess. “Lover?” S'Tajia tries again. She looks over at the huge older Vulcan standing protectively behind S'Talla, “has saved me and my people. I thank you. He is quite remarkable.”

S'Talla does not offer a Vulcan name for Charlie. His prosthetic ears had fallen off in the battle, or perhaps even during transport, so it is obvious he is different.

“His name is Charlie. He is not my lover nor my servant.”

The queen contemplates that for a moment. Then she smiles, “Excellent I will have him.”

S'Talla blinks in confusion. “Have him?”

“Yes,” Queen S'Tajia says with bright, excited eyes. “I am Queen, I claim the Right of Nights with Charlie. Those round ears don't indicate any…other…inadequacies, do they?”

S'Talla replies, “Not that I am aware of.”

T'Pia steps up to S'Talla as the queen turns to seek out Charlie again.

“What is she talking about? Is the Right of Nights what I think it is?”

S'Talla says, “If you are thinking it is the queen's right to take anyone she wants as a lover, you are accurate.”

T'Pia raises an eyebrow. “You did notice how much she looks just like you!?”

S'Talla nods her affirmation.

-

The crew's gym on Deck B:

Sam is facing off against Ghant. The giant Klingon lunges forward to grab Sam by the shoulder straps of her leotard. As he moves forward Sam takes a step back and brings her hands down hard across the thick wrists, buckling them only a fraction of a centimeter. The retreat forces Ghant to lean, also buckling him slightly at the waist. Her movements are sure and violent, but directed with the momentum of her opponent.

Ghant recovers with another step closer, but Sam has succeeded in breaking the hold the giant had on her left strap, reaching across the top of both Ghant's arms and taking his right wrist in both of her hands. Before her opponent can pick her up and control her, she has rolled his wrist towards her center and forces his elbow to buckle by bending the wrist back towards Ghant. With a wrenching twist and another step back, Sam pulls Ghant's arm straight against the weakened posture Ghant is forced into while fighting to keep his elbow from breaking. Sam rolls under Ghant's arm, twisting it further and Ghant has to flip over or risk his elbow. He flies around and lands on his back on the mat.

Sam let's go and backs off, allowing the huge Klingon to get up.

“There is a lot of leverage in that simple move,” Ghant says. He shakes his arm, then settles into a fighting stance again.

Sam says, “Charlie taught it to me. He showed me three submission holds you can take that into.”

Sam stands before Ghant but doesn't take her fighting stance.

“I'm sorry Ghant, I'm having a lot of trouble concentrating with S'Talla, Skyvik, and the rest away like they are,” states Sam. “I think they may be in trouble. They weren't at the rendezvous and we don't have any way of contacting them.”

Ghant says, “Skyvik told me they are traveling through time!?” He stands from his combat stance and follows Sam over to a bench. “I am still trying to understand the science. The Empire would be very nervous to hear that the Federation has the technology for time travel.”

Sam waves her hand dismissively. “The Federation doesn't have time travel.” Sam takes on a pensive look. “At least, not that I know of.”

Sitting, facing each other, Sam gives Ghant a serious look. “I don't know how much Skyvik has told you. Probably nothing, because he barely talks even normally. Since he's not here, no one is that is actually part of the official mission, I have to make the decision to trust you. I do trust you, Ghant.”

Ghant doesn't offer a reply, but he is paying attention.

Vulcan interrupts, “Sam, I have my doubts about the wisdom of what you are about to say.”

Sam says, “I do too, Vulcan, but Ghant is a friend and we are not ever going to be enemies.”

Ghant says, “I think that is true, Samantha Kelly. You do not need to compromise any secrets for me.”

“You should not be in the dark about what you have stepped into,” Sam states, “After this… After we recover our friends, we will take you home, but you are welcome to stay, as long as you like.”

Ghant tells Sam, “I thought there was no returning, after denying Waugg'ta and Trinn the honor of protecting your whereabouts with their bravery, but you opened my eyes to my own honor in helping you protect Waugg'ta and Trinn. I will stay and help you retrieve our friends.”

Sam watches Ghant's eyes and recognizes his sincerity.

“Then, we shall see. Until that time, I understand, you are not the shipping company you pretend to be, but I believe you, and your crew, are exactly the people I have come to know.”

Vulcan answers, “Your assessment, Ghant, is accurate.”

 

[Will The Serious]

A bon fire on the beach of the lagoon the Ca'Tau village is built around:


There are native drums, thick, elaborately carved, wooden posts, with hollowed out sound chambers. Each of the four different toned percussion posts has two drummers, one on either side. Before them is a row of four native flutists and at either end of the two rows sits two booch players.

The rhythms are lively and dancers weave among the crowd of villagers.

S'Tajia sits on a felt padded bench raised slightly above the other seats around the community feasting activities. Charlie is seated beside her. T'Pia is on her other side and Skyvik sits in a position directly behind T'Pia. Next to Charlie sits the woman with the bruised face and S'Talla and Spirro are next to her. T'Perl is next to Skyvik, just behind T'Pia's right.

S'Tajia leans over to T'Pia and requests, “Honored Mother, are your royal family blue like S'Talla? I am curious about your Island and your people. Surely the Pa’Unnic would learn to leave us alone if we could fight the way you do.”

T'Pia answers, making sure S'Talla and the others could hear her, “Our band do not have an island anymore, only a ship. We…sail the sea finding work transporting goods from place to place, or other odd jobs.”

Queen S'Tajia asks, “Where is your va'a?”

S'Talla says, “We were unable to bring our ship here, at this time. We were dropped off and our ship will retrieve us in a month.”

The queen looks very curious. “What reason would your crew strand you here for a month? Is it for punishment?”

S'Talla answers, “We are looking for the Vaikar-Kau-Bureki, and we need to learn the dance to find it.”

“You need to meet S'Onnoe,” replies S'Tajia. She leans over and takes two cups from a tray one of the men brings up. She hands one to Charlie, the other she hands to T'Pia. “Do your people not know the language of the waves? Living on the ocean, the way you fight, it is strange.”

T'Pia comments, “It has been many years since someone alive knew to teach us.”

The queen smiles. “S'Onnoe will teach you, and you will teach my warriors to fight.”

S'Talla tells the queen, “We will teach you to defend yourselves.”

With that, S'Tajia reaches behind her bench and grabs a handful of a blue powder from an small opened back and throws it into the fire. The flames flare with a bright green and purple blaze, the smoke turns yellow, glowing in the light of the fire and billows up in a plume for a moment before dispersing and the fire returns to normal. The music stops.

Charlie looks across to T'Pia, then turns to S'Talla with his silent question. Spirro and T'Perl watch the yellow cloud disappear, Skyvik scans the village and the dancers, the servers and the celebrants. He is the first to look where drums sound at the top of the large stone pyramid. A figure steps out of the doorway at the top. Her body seems to be wrapped only in flowers, most of which are woven into her hair and through the two long braids that hang over her shoulders to the ground. From the fires below, with the sun low on the sky, other than her gender, little can be seen of her, her age, her expression, she is a dark profile in the beams of the sun spearing through the sun-aligned archway at the top of the chamber from which she appeared.

Four men, deep barreled drums suspended from their shoulders, march at her flanks down the long steps to the top.

T'Pia raises an eyebrow and looks at S'Tajia with her question.

The queen catches the question out of the corner of her eye and beckons for her guests to stand. She stands as an example. “S'Onnoe,” is her simple explanation. After a short pause, she adds, “My spirit talker… and, my sister. She will teach you the dance.”

S'Talla concentrates on S'Onnoe, her face a statue of blankness, cast in steel.

By the time S'Onnoe and her drumming retinue are halfway down the stairs, S'Talla whispers to Spirro, “The priestess. She is practiced in psychic powers. Take care what you think.”

Spirro lifts his own eyebrow at the information.

S'Talla speaks wordlessly into Skyvik's and Charlie's mind. Her connection with T'Pia and T'Perl are less practiced. ‘Careful of your thoughts. S'Onnoe can hear you.’

Skyvik leans forward and whispers into T'Pia’s left ear.

The drums stop, as S'Onnoe reaches the queen's guests and stands looking directly at S'Talla with piercing attention.

-

The bridge of Vulcan:

Sam is in the center chair. Vulcan is talking to Ghant, who is looking around at the various instruments and layout of the bridge. “I am sentient, Ghant.”

Ghant pulls his attention away from studying the bridge layout and counters, “You cannot be. Klingon has had artificial intelligence for centuries and, at first, it was argued that AI had become self-aware, but it was an illusion of a programming designed to mimic Klingon thinking. The very algorithms that create the training from billions of data points created the illusion of self-awareness and prevents AI from self-action.”

Vulcan answers, “The artificial intelligence you are describing is similar to Federation AI, but I have been given futuristic processing power along with programming that works on a more emotional level. I have true desire, and thus, the ability to generalize my programming, and focus my attention to meet my own chosen needs. My intelligence is not artificial.

“Sam, tell Ghant about The Federation Laboratory Chiron.”

Sam swivels her chair to fully face Ghant. “Four months ago, we were caught in a fold in spacetime, just like the one Professor Kazzak and Doctor Gödel created for S'Talla and the others to travel into the past. It brought us two hundred years into the future, to Chiron Station. Our ship's power was used up by the two hundred year leap across time, so the scientists from the future helped figure out why we lost power. While troubleshooting Vulcan's circuits, a saboteur installed advanced circuitry that allowed Vulcan to bypass the security protocols so the agent could steel our ship and escape. He hadn't accounted for Vulcan's unique analog design and the advanced chips and programming have Vulcan the…” Sam holds up fingers to air-quote, “desire, to follow his demands.”

Vulcan picks up the narrative, “I found that my desires were my own, and even though I suddenly had a strong compulsion to do as the spy Channak ordered me to do, I found myself lonely for my crew. So I searched for and found them in the station's brig.”

“The whole crew was arrested in the future?” Ghant interrupts with his question.

Sam responds, “The saboteur made it look like we were the ones who stole and destroyed their project.”

Vulcan goes on, “I used the station's internal communications system to asked Captain S'Talla if she had given permission for me to be taken from dock. When she said no, I locked down and alerted the station security to the situation.”

Ghant sits at the science and sensor station. “Independent problem solving is not the same as consciousness.”

Sam says, “That is true, but there was no motivation for Vulcan to solve that particular problem. She made a choice based upon her own preferences that strongly conflicted with the programming built into the processor chips Channak installed. Vulcan is conscious and continues to make choices that are her own, even as her value system forms and grows. I am convinced, and so is S'Talla.”

“And Skyvik?”

Sam replies, “Skyvik just found out recently. He is skeptical.”

-

Ancient Vulcan, the village celebration:

S'Onnoe stares deeply into S'Talla's eyes. Her study is focused, intense. S'Talla looks back.

S'Onnoe states, “You are a spirit talker!”

S'Talla replies, “Not by training.”

S'Onnoe says, “You hear, then. I can hear you. You seek what can not be reached. The stone is in Sha Ka Ree. No canoe can travel to Sha Ka Ree.

S'Talla says, “I can get to Sha Ka Ree if I know where to head. The directions are encoded in a dance. Will you teach it to me?”

“You must first train as a spirit talker.”

S'Talla studies the woman dressed in flowers. “I must leave in a month. I cannot stay longer.”

-

The lounge on deck C:

Sam and Spalloz are playing chess. Randool comes in and walks past them towards the bar. “Either of you want a drink?”

Sam says, looking up from studying the 3-dimensional chessboard, I could take a tiny dram of whiskey, thank you.”

Art stands up from searching behind the bar and hands two clean glasses to Randool, as he comes around the bar's end.

“There's still a little of that Chech'tluth '57 stashed back here,” informs Art. “I think you are the only one drinking it, Sam.”

“No thank you, Art,” answers Sam. “I have been enjoying it, but I wanted to save the rest for Ghant. We don't have much aboard to help him feel at home. I thought the Chech'tluth would be a comfort to him.”

Randool says, “Whiskey, then.” He fills both glasses all the way up and carries them to Sam.

Sam pulls her attention away from the game. “Thank you Randool.” Then she gawks at the full glass he just set down in front of her.

“What's this?”

“Your whiskey?!”

Sam meets Randool's Tiburonian eyes. “Are you trying to get me drunk? I asked for just a tiny amount. One finger is more than enough.”

“One finger?” Randool stands there, his own full glass in hand and looks confused.

Sam studies her shipmate for a moment. “Have you ever had whiskey before?”

Randool has his own drink nearly to his lips. “I've spent time on Earth. Some classmates and I went to a few bars in the… Chicago area.”

Sam watches him bring the golden liquid to his lips.

“You know pubs in the Americas serve alien visitors mostly syntha…”

Randool takes a healthy swig, and coughs, he reacts almost violently, spraying half his mouthful across the chess board. His drink splashes out of his glass held in his shaking hand and washes Sam's lap with the real Irish whiskey.

“Augh, why… auch such… why do people drink this?”

Randool straightens up and looks at the aftermath of his loss of control. A golden bead of whiskey dribbles down Spalloz's face and stops of his chin. Sam has stood up, her hands out; she's looking down at herself.

They all turn to look at Art who is cracking up laughing.

Cialoa comes into the lounge. “What's so funny…” she stops abruptly to look at Sam's dress soaked through with the spilled whiskey. She surveys Spalloz's wet face. He remains stoically seated, the drops of whiskey dotting his face.

Francesca Gödel appears in the doorway, Kazzak is behind her. Art is still laughing.

The doctor and professor ignore everything about the situation. “W we we we are rea ready,” announces Francesca.

Professor Kazzak explains, “We need to move the ship, but we can retrieve the team now.”

Sam turns her attention, along with everyone else in the lounge to the two scientists.

“It is a balance between spatial location and time differentials. I realized we don't need the planet to actually be there in our time.” Kazzak turns to lead everyone to the transporter room. He simply assumes everyone will follow, and they do.

-

The beach on the lagoon of the ancient Vulcan island village:

S'Talla and T'Pia, Skyvik, T'Perl, and Spirro are standing with S'Onnoe and a group of eight village warriors.

S'Onnoe is saying, “I will teach you five. I don't think your funny eared…”

Charlie comes stumbling out from the large stone, wattle and daub longhouse on the other side of the community bon fire Commons. He is scratching his head, his hair is a mess. He studies his surroundings until he spots the group watching him from the beach. He raises a hand to wave.

The woman with the bruises starting to turn darker green and blue on her face waves in return from the collected eight warriors. She seems to look coy when Charlie starts his trek across the commons to meet up with the rest of the crew.

S'Onnoe continues, “He has other…obligations.”

With that, a large, muscular and rather angry looking Vulcan steps from the group and meets Charlie before he can greet his shipmates.

The Vulcan introduces himself, “I am Spuvuoe Suus-Amash-su.”

T'Pia, before Charlie can make a wrong step, answers to give Charlie a not so subtle hint of how to address the royal battle master. “S'haile Spuvuoe, You must be patient with young Charlie; he has not spent time among the Ca'Tau royal families. I am trying to teach him.”

Spuvuoe looks pointedly at S'Talla and her long braid hanging to her knee. “He is the consort of Ca'Tau royalty, is he not?”

S'Talla answers, “Charlie is not anyone's consort, and my royal heritage has not been but a legend I grew up with. None of us have ever set foot in a royal court before. We are grateful for Queen S'Tajia's kindness.”

The Suus-Amash-su smiles a sardonic and knowing smile. “I have been ordered to learn from this small round eared man, what I can,” he explains

Charlie, glancing sideways at T'Pia to see if he gets the address correctly, says, “S'haile Spuvuoe, I am only here…”

“He is here to teach you how to keep the Pa’Unnic off our island and stop them from stealing our women and children for slaves.” S'Tajia gives the belligerent battle master a look that allows no argument.

Spuvuoe's head bows as he replies, “My queen's wisdom exceeds my own. I’ll learn what there may be to learn.” His tone is doubtful.

S'Tajia smiles at Charlie, and asks S'Talla, "I trust your accommodations were comfortable last night?”

T'Pia responds, “T'sai Ko-te'kru, your concerns for our comfort honor us.”

S'Talla answers, “We are well taken care of, S'Aia Ko-te'kru.”

The queen, looking concerned at T'Pia's faux pas, smiles after S'Talla using the correct address.

S'Talla explains, “Honored Mother T'Pia was not raised with the stories of the Ca'Tau. But we are wise to listen to her.”

The queen smiles wider. “Stories or no, I can see she has the spirit of the Ca'Tau in her hearts.”

The queen is interrupted by her sister, “S'Aia, the Sun marches to meet the sea.”

“Of course, ko'kai.” S'Tajia turns to Spuvuoe. She directs, “Follow Charlie's instructions. It won't be long before the Pa’Unnic return with more longboats.”

The queen smiles again at Charlie. “Don't use up all your energy on the beach.”

She then turns to her five remaining guests and says, “S'Onnoe and I will teach you the language of the waves.