Memories of H'rala

Posted on 31 Jan 2013 @ 3:23pm by Raifi Zaren

872 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Felicidad: Deck 4, Sickbay
Timeline: MD-01: 1400 hrs

[ON}

As luck would have it, Zaren mused as he poured through the copied crew listing from the USS Galileo, not everyone hated his stories.

Constance Hleya had mentioned their morning chat to a friend, who'd mentioned it to another, and by noon, he'd been sitting at a mess hall dining table, explaining the situation on MS1 in detail to twelve officers of the Fleet. It gave him hope in no small way to know that there were officers - commissioned and non-commissioned - who cared. Who would eventually travel through the ranks to Admiral and make an effort to see to it that this kind of large scale apathetic racism no longer occurred. That is, if they didn't grow hardened with age, but kept their eyes and hearts open. He knew from experience that 'bitter' was a taste that stained the palate.

But for now they were worldly and interested, concerned for the plight of those in need, regardless of their history. If he'd believed in a God, he might have thanked Her personally.

Talk had turned to other stories - apparently three of them read the transcripts of his reports through the LCARS on a semi-regular basis, which was gratifying. The Ferengi economy, the struggle of Bajoran farmers since the rebellion, the rights of refugees and other passing civilians aboard starbases, the experiences of the children of soldiers on the Dominion War's front lines... it was good to know that he wasn't speaking to the air. Someone was listening. Someone was learning. Maybe they would be changed by what they learned. Maybe the Federation would be better for it. Or, at the very least, they themselves would be better for it.

And then he'd asked oh so casually if it might be possible for them to give him access to one of the LCARS terminals. Low security clearance. Just for a couple details on his next story. The Galileo. And he had been awash in rumor and speculation. How could anyone not love young officers?

The Galileo, they had whispered over each other; it had been taken over by the Borg and they'd had to fight free. No, they'd been at war with the Klingons. No, the Klingons were our allies; they'd been attacked by the Dominion! They'd traveled through time. They'd disappeared through a worm hole and then appeared, crashing down on Vega IX. They were carrying secret artifacts, secret plans for a new space station, secret weapons, secret research... whatever it was, they were carrying something and that something was classified. The SFI had boarded them almost as soon as they'd landed on Vega and taken something away. A newly discovered species, a spaceship, a treasure horde - this suggested by the youngest of the group who was promptly dismissed. No one questioned why someone would do a story on the Galileo. No one asked what the ship was doing. They only wanted to know what is was and what had happened to it.

So. Trija and Jool had been correct in a way.

With all of that to parse out and think on, Zaren had been led to a terminal and allowed to download the Galileo's personnel list, cross-checking that against the crew members he'd heard about from sources on Vega IX. And fortunately, his sources had been mostly correct.

There was the Captain Saalm who had checked herself in to the medical center on Vega rather than using her own medical crew. There was the Vulcan Liyar with the influx of telepathic ability and his fascinating political history. And the XO, who had been party to the Romulan Aid Project... why hadn't Trija been concerned about him too? He'd been inside the Empire's territory seeking to stop the bleeding, while the symptoms were being ignored just a sector away. And then there was...

He paused as the name almost thrummed in front of him. Evelyn.

Salt on the air. Common words that meant more than they seemed to.

Years and still his heart thrummed, although now it was a stronger heart with not so many decades of mileage on it. At least not physically.

He hadn't seen her since twenty-three sixty eight. It had been a long time. H'rala was still as it ever had been, largely untouched by time, and so was she. What a life to lead, he thought. And how lonely. To be herself by herself with only her own memories to keep her company as year by year she watched her companions grow old and die. So much of that, and so much else, still. Patience and compassion for an irritable, embittered old man. Two weeks of conversation, drinking, and ridiculous sums of latinum lost at tongo and poker. And she was still the same as she had been on those beaches. Well. No. Nothing stayed the same for long, but she looked the same, he corrected himself. And she'd gone back into Intelligence work, he mused on a half laugh. Good for her.

With a shake of his head, still smiling despite himself, he returned to the rest of the crew and the stories they might hold.

[OFF]

Raifi Zaren
FNN Journalist
USS Felicidad
(pNPC Lilou Peers)

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