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 Post subject: The Dispatches
PostPosted: Wed December 24th, 2014 9:04 pm 
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Location: New Romulus

To hru'firh S'Khnialmnae, erei'Enriov, RRW Mhr'vaat,
From Erein R'veik tr'Khnilamnae, aboard the RRW Ei'Krih, en route 12th Fleet HQ,

Shaoi khon, rekkhai; if all is well with you, then so it is with me. I find myself traversing the Eta Eridani sector space en route to my current billets, which elements willing should place me in a useful position aboard a United Federation of Planets vessel. I have applied to four different positions in their science and medical divisions and have been granted preliminary interviews based on my qualifications and most of all, on your kind and generous recommendation. I thank you.

I do not know what lies ahead. I have planned little since the destruction of the old research station at the hands of the Nausicaan raiders and was quite content with my work among the injured at the base colony. Elements brought the USS Fiddler to our aid, elements guided me to work with their chief medical officer, Lt. Commander Brosk; and it was he who, impressed by my work (very rudimentary I confess, I scarcely touch the surface of probabilities) on V-Cell manipulation recommended I apply to the positions I mentioned.

Therefore I travel now, a valise full of hope and a mind besieged by the old demons of self-doubt and xenophobia. The genetic fault you allowed me to keep, this white hair of mine that gave me a second look among our people and a chance to stand out among myriads of applicants will not serve me where I go; Andorians and several other member races among the Federation are just as exotic looking. And so your little ghost must rely on his own skills this once in order to impress.

This aptly named shuttle rumbles often, and interrupts my revelrie. Perhaps Air wishes to chastise me for my lack of confidence, gently chiding me to trust the winds that bear me thence. I choose to trust this present current then, ri'nanov, and will make the best of what opportunities I find. I will write anon.

I remain your dutiful son, as faithful in distance as I ever was at your side, R'veik.


^V^

Guide to Language Used

hru'hfirh: Head of house, most important person in a romulan family
erei'Enriov: Admiral, or close enough in comparable rank
mhr'vaat: Ambition, a rather dangerous name for a romulan vessel, who believe a ship takes the spirit of its naming
Erein: Ensign, close enough rank wise
ei'krih: home, or perhaps more accurately current abode or dwelling place
shaoi khon: very formal greeting of an inferior to a far superior in rank
rekkhai: sir or madam as used in military protocol
ri'nanov: mother-by-birth, as opposed to by adoption, important in family ranking

_________________
=/\= ==================================== =/\=
1st Lt. R'veik ch'Rihan tr'Khnialmnae
MACO, Charlie Squad
12th Fleet, United Federation of Planets
=/\= ==================================== =/\=


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PostPosted: Tue December 30th, 2014 2:30 am 
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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

_________________
=/\= ==================================== =/\=
1st Lt. R'veik ch'Rihan tr'Khnialmnae
MACO, Charlie Squad
12th Fleet, United Federation of Planets
=/\= ==================================== =/\=


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 Post subject: Re: The Dispatches
PostPosted: Mon February 23rd, 2015 8:43 pm 
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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 my life brings you honor, then I am honored to live it. We continue en route to Khitomer, Spirit of Vengeance and I; yet a review of the proposed flight plan for our little Ei’krih shows the necessity of several stops along the way. One such was our stop at Gamma Cannaris N where a research scientist had fallen ill, and needed transportation to a major hub where, should there be no available cure for their condition, perhaps a search could begin for a place where the proper treatment could be obtained. So we set course, and in due time welcomed aboard our newest passenger- T’Panni, apparently a Vulcan Academy forensic engineer of some renown. She had fallen victim to a local infection made complex by her extreme metabolism, and was in-and-out of consciousness.

There is a saying among these humans, that curiosity killed the cat; it is equivalent to our own hhakhev e’aaerae ne susse’thrai ssaed ellaer. Is curiosity a weakness that drove me to the edge of the abyss? I do acknowledge it then, yet the stars speak only to those who look up from the ground.

She was restless. The fever came in strong bouts that left her weak, but while it had its hold on her she would be as fierce as a she-wolf. She did harm to herself on several occasions as I hesitated. But she was my guest, rekkhai, however poor lodging our shuttle-home provided; Elements have expectations of a host that overrode both caution and distaste. I cared for her as best I could.

So much like a rihannha, rekkhai. Small neurological variations that could be the result of adaptations, but our kinship is not to be denied- they were once part of us, these estranged Vulcans. I was treating a festering sore in her right shoulder when her eyes opened wide and fixed me with such a stare that I felt the depths of my being recoil. I reached for the sedative I had prepared but her hand reached up and with trembling fingers touched my face, and then,

__

I saw them from the parapets, approaching over the horizon. I should have gone to rally our defenses but I allowed myself the luxury of a long inspection. Their ranks shifted as they approached, and each formation change seemed proper and ordered. Perhaps they sought to distract and I would not allow it. I ordered the fort battened down and sent the servants to secure the water tunnels. The captains I called to me, and we began to plan.

On the first week they probed our defenses with lightning attacks that appeared random but were perfectly coordinated to move our scouts along the walls. We saw little of their purpose, they retreated as fast as they advanced and we were on to the next attack. I ordered all four portals to be thrown open and the cavalry forward; we came upon their main force swiftly and with savage force scattered their camps. They reformed, and sought to surround our attacks, so we recalled and counted our losses. We feasted.

On the second week they reached the walls and began to deploy siege engines. They labored day and night, and we bid our time. When I thought their work had lulled them into complacency I gave the signal, and the cliff side tunnels opened up; we poured into their rear with the full force of our garrison, striking for the command tent and seeking to thus end the siege. The command tent fell, but another took its place and they rallied their shields and pushed us back with matching ferocity. We fell back, collapsing the tunnels behind us, and licked our wounds.

On the third week they abandoned their siege engines and strove to climb the walls. They came up from every side at once. I ordered a retreat into the inner courtyard, abandoning the ramparts to their feral surge. We set pikes and shielded the archers, and in good order rained death upon them as they breached. Their impulsive push frustrated they fell back, carrying their wounded. We didn’t harry them.

On the fourth week they sought parley. We ignored them. Our rations were almost out, and it didn’t seem tactical to let them see our gaunt state. They vented their frustration with stone and pitch against our walls. We lit fires on the battlements and spoke softly of old times.

On the fifth week we were starving. We opened all the gates. We went among them, caring for their sick. They fed us.
__

It’s been an uneasy peace since the errhi’gemaen . She keeps mostly to herself, as I to my own research. She has taken up Spirit of Vengeance’s education, and he responds well to her pedagogy. We greet each other cordially when we wake, we help each other find privacy, and we eat as a small family; we find time to converse with great care for each other’s sensitivities. I enjoy these moments with her, and find her knowledge of archaeology simply fascinating. I did not know a Vulcan's words could smile.

They are unexpectedly wise for their impulsiveness, these humans. Where our fool gets consumed, and that ends the story, theirs find reward: they say curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. Her health improves, and my retreat from the abyss has brought me closer to understanding. It will do for now.

I remain your dutiful son, as faithful in distance as I ever was at your side, R'veik.

^V^

Guide to Language Used

Errhi’gemaen: mindmeld, literally “attack of the mind”
hhakhev e’aaerae ne susse’thrai ssaed ellaer: “a fool that stirs a she-wolf is bound to be consumed”

_________________
=/\= ==================================== =/\=
1st Lt. R'veik ch'Rihan tr'Khnialmnae
MACO, Charlie Squad
12th Fleet, United Federation of Planets
=/\= ==================================== =/\=


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