To hru'firh S'Khnialmnae, erei'Enriov, RRW Mhr'vaat,
From siu-Riov R'veik tr'Khnilamnae, RRW Ei'Krih, en route 12th Fleet HQ,
Shaoi khon, rekkhai; if you are as well as you can be, then rest assured I am as well as I should be. I am en route to Khitomer, a slight departure from our flight plan, but one brought about by recent events ; I confess I am not eager to reach that place, nor the uncomfortable situation it will cause me. The Terrans have a quaint way of expression, “needs must when the devil is driving” that seems to me is as close to an understanding of mnhei’sahe as they will probably get; in the case of the ei’Krih it isn’t the aehall’s driving so much as what drives him, as I will explain.
It began when Riov tr’Mian set our shuttle down in Ker’rat System to pick up another passenger. Dr. Nablio had been doing some archaeological research in some ancient ruins on Ker’rat IV, where it seems the Preservers had spent more time than with most of their seed cultures. The doctor had become fascinated with the records he found there, and after five years studying alone was most eager to regale me with every detail of his research. I listened, although he had acquired an annoying habit of answering his own questions; yet I found that the constant stream of information spoke as much of his research as it did of his own psychological condition. I was fascinated by the development of his mind and habits after such isolation and the Doctor became my own study subject as much as the Ker’rat ruins did, by extension of his work. He was very proud of his findings, and had brought back volumes of data- Opus Magnus he called it, his eri drae’et.
He carried with him one treasure, a single fossilized flower caught in amber. The doctor had huge hopes his Lazarus Flower as he had named it would change medicine and cement his name in the scientific journals. I questioned him on this oddity, knowing his given-name as Gerald and by his own admission, there being no Terran tradition for a hidden-name – wouldn’t it be better to attach his own name to the flower? Apparently there is a tradition of returning-from-death completely cured of all ailments in their culture, proceeding from a recorded act of such occurrence with deep religious connotations; and Lazarus was the name of the man so returned.
I was so caught up in this cultural tidbit that I missed, at first, the importance of his Lazarus Flower. The recordings he had found at the ruins spoke of a plant given miraculous healing power by a heavenly race, which he deduced to have been a branch of the Preservers. Anyone who ate this plant’s flower and followed a regimen of dietary rules for seven days would be miraculously healed. Unfortunately the flora of Ker’rat IV had undergone a cycle of destruction during one of its frequent volcanic eras and the only surviving sample of the “miracle plant” was this amber fossil. Quite a treasure indeed. Dr. Nablio hoped that a combination of genetic cloning and a replicated habitat based on the records he had unearthed would allow him to grow the plant once more in a laboratory environment.
We discussed (I should say, he discussed as it was largely one sided) the possibilities and the impact of his find at great length. I offered myself as an assistant, should my own plans not be fruitful and he was delighted at the prospect of working together. It was during one of our planning sessions that the Riov announced an unexpected stop; we had come within range of a Khe'lloann-mhehorael distress signal and were en route to render aid. It originated from a minor planet in the center belt of the Ker’rat system but there was sufficient magnetic interference from the mineral-rich planetoid to obfuscate the shuttle’s scanners. We set down within +/- 5,ooo RSU of the signal in a rather dense jungle. Both Dr. Nablio and I offered our assistance and the Riov having armed himself (and we adequately equipped) we set out to locate the signal by triangulation.
I have never studied a more stubborn planet, nor expected such a difficult trek. At every turn the flora turned against us, and trails blasted by disruptor burn would see new growth literally crawl back before our eyes to take back the precious soil. We slogged on as best we could, and even the doctor’s perennial joviality was silenced by the effort. It was during one of our more difficult passes, a climb over a fallen log viciously attacked for nourishment by every vine in sight, that disaster struck.
It came out of nowhere. My first instinct was to duck when I heard the gruesome gurgling, all thanks to your training. The doctor fell on my side of the log, the Riov on the vanguard side of the climb having missed the whole incident. Gathering my wits I proceeded with caution to the fallen doctor and immediately diagnosed his injury- no mystery, as there was protruding from his throat a good length of wooden spear. While the Riov scouted around us I removed the implement by the most direct route, that being breaking the shaft and dividing it from the point. There was great damage and the doctor was drowning in his own blood so I triaged as I could with the limited equipment at hand and stabilized him by sedation. Of our attacker there was no trace, but examining the spear point I discovered it was topaline- a rich metal favoured by the Khe’lloann for its durability. Were we facing an ambuscade? Had the khe’lloann lured us here to take our precious Lazarous data? I confess such irrational thoughs flooded my heart as I crouched there in that foreign jungle, thoughts eagerly espoused by our Riov.
He resolved to push on, himself armed and on watch while I dragged the doctor in a makeshift hiera’aht- a process that the imposing jungle made strenuous in spite of the terran’s light weight. I thought while we carried on thus, and came to the conclusion it couldn’t be the khe’lloann. They couldn’t have known what we carried, they could have just used disruptors, they could have overwhelmed our little scientist party… the more I thought the more I chided myself for my initial lack of clear thinking. These thoughts lulled my attention, which I know regret. It was thus exhausted and on constant guard as we were reaching the source of the distress signal that the Riov thought he saw movement- he fired, repeatedly, and tossed a plasma grenade. Shouting he ran into the clearing and I, lowering my burden, followed close behind; he fell at my feet, decapitated by a simple trap rigged from a blade and a whipping tree branch.
I stood in the small clearing, done and alone. At my feet was the body of a small child, a Khe’lloann child, dead of multiple wounds. Besides him lay the decapitated body of my once-Riov; behind me,struggling to draw breath, lay the brilliant and jovial Dr. Nablio. Before me were the ruins of a Khle’lloann shuttle. I stepped in away from the toxic fumes of the grenade and examined the last, as a means of focusing my thoughts. There were ship logs, and patching together a translator was easy enough. That's when I met her.
She was a proud woman, who had fought hard and long for her hfihar. Athough not a hrufirh herself, she had all the characteristics you'd recognize: fierce protection, cunning diplomacy, and unquencheable ambition. She was the strong wife of her male hrufirh and the bearer of his only son. She had fought for the survival of her hfihar after her husband's death and had protected her young heir until he could claim his place among the khe’lloann great hfihars. There is some coming of age trial, it seems, and she was bringing her hope child to face them when disaster struck their shuttle. With her last strength she set up the distress signal and recorded her last wishes- that he be brought at last to Quonos, there to reclaim his hfihar. I never met her, but I knew her in you.
Back out in the clearing, with little time and less equipment I faced my choices. Mnehi'sahe had brought this, in the whispering winds, and there is no denying the price when aehallh is your pilot.
I travel now to Khitomer, with young Spirit of Vengance. The extract from the Lazarus Flower has restored him completely and I've had to keep him partially sedated for the protection of our little space-home. He picked the name himself, and repeats it incessantly in his native tongue- something i couldn't do without significant damage to my vocal chords. We are several weeks away from reuniting him with his people and we've taught each other much as we go.
The hopes of Dr. Nablio lie burried with his body and a broken piece of amber, but I carry his life-work as a homage to his undying hope. I carry also Riov tr'Mian's personal kaleh, to give to his rianov; may honor always follow his name. I carry also a burden, that of v-dDi'ranov until Spirit is safe among his people. I carry it with honor, because I finally understand what you tried to teach me all those years ago:
Of the chief Parts of the Ruling Passion, only this can be truly said: Hate has a reason for everything. But love is unreasonable.
I remain your dutiful son, as faithful in distance as I ever was at your side, R'veik.
^V^
Guide to Language Used
siu-Riov: literally time-Captain, a temporary position of command Mnhei'sahe: the Ruling Passion, a system of conduct, morals, and ethical demands for a romulan aehallh: Spirit, Ghost eri drae’et: life's inheritance, the gift left behind to enhance a house's status by a member Khe'lloann-mhehorael: Klingon. Literally, "those other ones, from over there" hiera’aht: a medical stretcher. Literally, a makeshift boat hfihar: House, an extended family sharing name and honor kaleh: honor blade, a dagger with cultural ritualistic values rianov: Weapon Master, a position which combines tutoring with tactical/strategic duties. Also a duelist v-dDi'ranov: Father by adoption
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=/\= ==================================== =/\= 1st Lt. R'veik ch'Rihan tr'Khnialmnae MACO, Charlie Squad 12th Fleet, United Federation of Planets =/\= ==================================== =/\=
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