With Veterans day not so far behind us, I dedicate this tale to: Andrew Davis, 1975-2008. United States Marine Corps, 2001-2008 May your courage live on through generations. Semper Fi Author’s note: This is my second attempt at story writing in English. In Hungarian, and on occasion, Swedish, I have written many more. But the lack of readers has forced me to go international. And it’s nothing I regret. My first English fanfic is about this very vessel, the Kir’Shara, and is named “Momento Mori”. It has been currently put on hold while I write this story in order to make the deadline. But keep an eye out, if RL permits me, I will post it shortly. I’m also planning on continuing the series as it evolves. I don’t know it this means anything to you outside Sweden, but I currently study English at level C. Which involves the Certificate of Advanced English. This might be high level by Swedish standards, but nothing compared to the US or UK. I understand that you will probably come across grammatical errors or similar issues, so please voice you opinions or ideas you might have about further improvement. I have yet to master English in a literary form and appreciate all the help I come across. Acknowledgements: Kazarl (here on TrekBBS) for grammar correction and editing. And last but not least, Sarah. I’m sorry, I have no idea what you new last name is. For me, you will probably remain Sarah Davis forever. Someone who in spite of our previous differences gave me a hand in setting up the Starship Kir’Shara’s and her crew’s universe and timeline. I owe you one. Regards // Johnny
Starship Kir'Shara: House Call The events in this tale take place in early 2413. 148 years after the destruction of El-Auria, 32 years after the Borg invasion, 26 years after the Hobus Supernova and 16 years after the collapse of the Khitomer Alliance. The Kir’Shara is a Mark Two Intrepid, or Voyager class vessel as they are more commonly known, and was launched in 2409. Commander Sulhir Helena Vaz, took command in 2411 after the Fourth Battle of Deep Space Nine, where over 60% of the crew was killed. “Be careful when you fight the monsters, lest you become one.” ~ Friedrich Nietzsche “Some wounds, you cannot heal. Only hide.” ~ Unknown German soldier, 1945 USS Kir’Shara, NX-93873 ETA to Starbase Delta: 16.2 hours Standing in the sickbay’s ICU ward, the holographic physician, Commander Jerry Cor, kept staring at the padd in his hands. For some reason, and for the first time in his lifetime, he was at a loss. Commander Lyle had been physically fine for weeks. Psychologically, however, was a completely different matter. It had been four weeks since his mission to Cardassia Prime, yet he didn’t seem to improve. Doctor Cor walked up to the ship’s Captain, a young and quite attractive Trill hybrid. Despite her being merely twenty eight years of age, Captain Sulhir Helena Vaz now looked older than ever. He had often considered relieving her of command during these four weeks, but he could never make himself actually do it. She had remained by her first officer’s side all this time; and knowing her, she wouldn’t let him go. “Sully? Are you all right?” he asked her kindly. He nodded towards Commander Lyle “Still no change. Go get some rest; I’ll contact you if anything changes.” She stared back at him blankly. Cor couldn’t but notice a hint of offense. “On New Gementhoz two years ago,” she remembered, “I ordered him to leave me behind. I even had a phaser on him to make him leave. There was no chance I was going to survive, but he never left my side. He patched me up the best he could and stayed until Starfleet found us. I could never understand why he did what he did, but I’m not leaving his side now. You can stun me, drug me, I don’t care. I’m not leaving.” Cor nodded. “Very well, I can respect that. But without a miracle, he won’t wake up. I tried everything. Physically his fine, it’s… It’s like he simply doesn’t want to wake up. He has a massive brain activity, almost like he was dreaming. I think, in his own way, he’s happy in there.” He added, his voice faltering in the end. “Do you blame him?” She locked eyes with Cor. “Would you want to wake up? Everyone he ever loved and cared about is dead. This crew is all the family he has left.” “Frankly,” he looked back at Commander Malcolm Lyle, sleeping gently on the biobed. He couldn’t but notice that he seemed calm, at peace. “If my captain was faithfully spending every waking moment by my biobed, and it was slowly killing her. I would wake up.” He discreetly scanned her, with a nearby medical tricorder. “When was the last time you slept? Or ate for that matter?” “I don’t know… Why?” she asked sounding profoundly confused. Cor shook his head, “That’s just irresponsible, Sully. If you don’t know, then it has been too long. I know how much you care about him, but--” “I’m just worried.” She cut him off. “And I don’t like what you’re suggesting.” “Why?” Cor asked, “Because you’re his superior officer? Regulation hasn’t been that strict since the Dominion War. When people go through something like you and the Commander did they create a bond; something that cannot be seen. To anyone else, it doesn’t exist. But to you and Malcolm…it’s there. And you know it.” She shook her head. “No offence, doc. But you have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Don’t I? Actually, you didn’t know me for most of your adult life—“ Sulhir never let him finish. All her worries seemed to disappear, “You’re a genius!” she exclaimed, leaving Doctor Jerry Cor remain quizzical. “That I know. But how am I a genius this time?” he asked flatly, a bit annoyed by her habit of cutting him off in mid sentence. She walked up to Commander Lyle’s bed, looking incredibly thoughtful. “Who’s the strongest telepath aboard? Preferably a Vulcan.” “Lieutenant T’Ral.” “Good,” she nodded, “I want her here in two minutes. Make sure she’s ready to perform a mind meld.” “No, no, no, no,” Cor shook his head, “You’re not thinking what I’m thinking, are you?” He asked sounding almost afraid of the answer. “Because the last time someone took a stroll in someone else’s mind, their little stunt ended up very badly.” “I know.” “It almost killed them!” She gave him a wry smile, “You think I don’t know that? Don’t worry, I can handle it. Besides, you said that he was physically fine, he just doesn’t want to wake up.” “Still,” Cor appeared thoughtful. “I still don’t believe this is a very good idea. Not to mention that I’m obligated to stop you from taking any unnecessary risks. And I’m not about to let the captain of this vessel to pull a stunt that has been scientifically proven unsafe. Even if a different method is used.” “Yeah?” she shot back, “I’m not about to give you a choice. Make it happen!” *** Everything was ready, a few more injections to keep everyone’s vitals stable and they were good to go. At least as good to go as they could get. “Still think this is a terrible idea,” Cor pointed out as he pressed the final hypo, filled with isoboramine stabilizer, to Sulhir’s neck, “And I urge you to think this through, Sully. I didn’t go through all that trouble to save your life when you were twelve, to watch you throw it all away on a wild goose chase. If I see the slightest drop in your vitals, I pulling you out of there.” She nodded, “Understandable,” Then she gave him an impish smile, “Let’s get this show in the road, shall we?” Cor’s response could only be described as a low grunt, “Fine…” he started manipulating his console. “T’Ral, you have a go.” He said and the Vulcan began the mind meld. A mind meld between three people was an incredibly complicated procedure, even for a trained Vulcan. Yet it seemed to work. Sulhir could hear herself speak along with T’Ral, “Our minds are one, I see what you see…” The slow sensation of sinking in warm water was the first thing Sulhir and T’Ral noticed. Slowly sinking, but without the sensation of drowning. It felt like minutes before they finally felt solid ground beneath them. The bright white light faded, and the kitchen of a small house appeared. Like a human 21st century house, it appeared to have no modern equipment whatsoever. No replicators, matter reclamators, nothing. It took the duo a while to get used to it all, but they were running out of time. “Captain?” T’Ral called out, “When you first voiced your idea, I believed it to be a good one. Now on the other hand, I am no longer certain. This trip, as you called it, into Commander Lyle’s mind is not turning out the way we expected.” “Why would it not turn--” The young, red haired girl didn’t appear to be afraid at first. More like curious who the two women were. But then, T’Ral spoke. Sufficient to say, that T’Ral wasn’t very good with children and so, the girl’s response was to shout for her parents. Almost instantly she shouted, the incredibly familiar face of Commander Malcolm Lyle appeared and quickly swept the child away from danger. “Who the hell are you and how did you get into my house?!” he shouted reaching for the nearest kitchen knife he could get a hold of. Deciding to make his intentions clear, he made two swooshing gestures. Careful to not do any damage, buts still close enough to make a point. It was safe to say that they got the message and backed away. But Sulhir wasn’t about to let some strange illusion of her first officer to threaten her. “Malcolm! That’s enough!” she snapped at him, “You don’t recognize me?” She hoped he did, because if she remembered all the facts correctly, if he decided to use the knife, he could probably kill them both. This wasn’t the holodeck, and I was completely possible for them to lose their lives. Malcolm lowered the knife, seeing that the women had no intention of harming him or his daughter. Then he spoke, “I haven’t seen you in my life. And my name is Teloren, not Mal’Kom.”
The doors to the sickbay silently hissed open. Cor was too involved in the trio’s vital signs to notice the visitor. “You prick! You actually let her go through with it? Bloody hell, doc!” The voice behind Cor belonged to Lieutenant Commander Nathan Pherigo, a short, muscular, and on occasion annoying engineer of Spanish and British decent. His sometimes colorful expressions could only be heard when he was really angry. Thankfully, this time he was merely annoyed and Cor didn’t have to listen to grammatically impossible sentences of fluent cursing. “Who is going to take the Admiral’s transmission now?” he added a bit calmer, slowly coming to realize that, if he knew his captain as well he thought he did, she really didn’t give Cor much choice. “I’ll take it,” Cor finally said after a few seconds of careful pondering. “He trusts me, for better or for worse…” Pherigo reluctantly agreed and handed the padd to Cor who in turn looked like he was going to panic. Then, seeing that his work was done, Pherigo nodded and left. “Just hope that this won’t bite you in the ass,” he muttered as the blank polished doors closed behind him. Cor approached his desk, took a seat and entered his pass code. The Starfleet Medical logo was replaced with the face of a very old friend, Rear Admiral Julian Bashir, Commander of Starbase Alhira. Cor put on the brightest smile he could muster and spoke, “Admiral! To what do we owe the pleasure?” He had hoped it wouldn't backfire, but just as everything he touched, it did. There is a saying among Tellarites, “You can lie to anyone. But you can’t lie to anyone well.” Unfortunately, Bashir knew him all too well. After thirty years, I would be strange if he didn’t. The smile on Bashir’s face vanished, probably because Jerry Cor was far from the person he was expecting. “Cor… Where is Sully? What are you up too?” he asked carefully probing Cor’s expression. It was of course futile to look for involuntary facial expressions since there was nothing involuntary about Cor. Everything in him had been carefully programmed, checked and double checked. “Nothing,” he smiled, “Captain Vaz is simply indisposed at the moment. Why would you ask? And I currently am the ranking officer aboard.” Cor said deflecting the question. “No, nothing really,” Bashir replied, “aside from the fact that you haven’t called me by my rank in twenty years. You’re up to something, I know it. And don’t act like you aren’t. The Federation council ruled on giving you human rights, you are a Starfleet officer. That means you answer to me.” Cor threw a quick glance at the trio in the ICU ward. Then, deciding that I would be better to not tell him what they were up to, he answered Bashir’s question. “You know that experiment I discussed with you earlier? That I had uncovered how Rantin Cor created the Cor-master file? Using another Joined Trill, I can download the symbiont’s memories into the computer and create a new master file with a new template.” “The experiment I denied because of the incalculable variables? The one that could potentially destroy not just the host’s nervous system, but the symbiont’s as well?” “Yes, you denied it. Therefore, I did it anyway. And Sulhir volunteered. That is why you can’t speak to her at the moment. If everything goes well, I will be able to create a brother, or a sister. Another Cor hologram, except this one will carry the memories of Vaz.” “I everything goes well?” Bashir snapped, “You’re not exactly selling the idea, Cor.” “I really don’t have to.” If pure anger could be harnessed as an energy source, every power issue in the Federation could be solved by these moments with Bashir. “If anything goes wrong… I promise you, Cor. I don’t care what miracle you preformed when she was a child. I will personally remove each and every subroutine you have. When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to scrub plasma conduits. You know how I get when my family is in danger. Are we clear?” “Perfectly, sir.” “Bashir, OUT!” he slammed his hand on the terminal, ending the transmission. That’s comforting… I don’t know what’s worse, getting away with this lie, or telling him the truth. ***
“Wait! Just, wait...” Sulhir shouted. “Adeana, your wife. Eren, Utan and Girala, your children. If I didn’t know you, how could I possibly know that? You’ve told only one person. Me…” “That’s just stupid. A lot of people know my wife’s and children’s names.” Sulhir looked down, her voice faltering as she spoke. “No, they don’t, Malcolm. All this,” she gestured for emphasis, “Is an illusion. El Auria is gone. Your family, friends, everyone you ever knew on this world is dead. If you try to remember, you know that we, the crew of the Kir’Shara is the only family you have. Come with me. Come back to the Kir’Shara.” He wasn’t about to hear any of it. “Lies!” he snapped. “Lies! All of it! Look around you, this is El Auria! You’re lying!” “I’m not, Malcolm,” she slowly took a few steps towards him. “The Borg destroyed it all. There’s nothing left.” T'Ral added. As she said that, the ground shook beneath them. They rushed outside, to see what was happening, only to be met by the volleys of Borg orbital bombardment. The green bolts, of what could only be described as lightening, struck down everything in the nearby city. Of the buildings that once reached into the clouds, remained only rubble. Kilometers away, yet the frightened screams of the people could be heard. Then the screams faded, and everything changed. The skies turned dark, blocking every last bit of sunlight. At first it seemed like the second stage of the attack, but it was not. The attack vanished because, Taloren, or Commander Malcolm Lyle, had no memory of it. He was on a Borg ship at the time. The duo had set events in motion that they had no control of. Instead of interacting with Lyle inside his mind, inside the fortress he had created to keep everything the way it had been so many years ago, they had triggered a sequence of memories… Once again, everything changed, the darkness became green light and the emptiness became a corridor aboard a Borg vessel. The Borg vessel. Like the two women weren't there, Malcolm, now dressed in a green camouflage uniform with three stripes on his arm, struggled to fight off repeated attacks by Borg drones while he tried to set up explosive devices. There was another man there as well. Same uniform, but Malcolm’s polar opposite. Malcolm was tall, dark haired and muscular. His partner on the other hand was, short, blonde and chubby. Sulhir couldn’t but imagine the two standing in formation in a military base on El Auria. The two men standing beside each other came incredibly close to resemble the number ten. At first, it seemed to go well for them. Most of the bombs were in place, but then the drones adapted to their energy weapons. The drones personal shields, albeit crude and rudimentary, got the job done and deflected every single burst of weapons fire targeted at them. Seeing that his weapon had lost its effect, Malcolm lashed forward and managed to disable two drones by tearing out the wiring in the back of their heads. He mentally cursed himself for killing a Dutani, a long time ally of the El Aurians, but then he came to realize that he probably did her a favor. Releasing her from the horrors of the Collective. He reached for another drone close by. Noticing that his partner was in trouble, he disposed of the drone and tried to approach him. So far, Malcolm had been fortunate. But his partner hadn’t… A drone he did not see, extended its assimilation tubes and sent millions of Borg nanoprobes into his bloodstream. He screamed in pain as the nanites started to alter his body on the molecular level. Small mechanical parts started sprouting from his body, beginning the assimilation. Soon, most of his right hand had been modified by metallic parts. He didn’t have very much time until he became another mindless drone among trillions. The foot soldier of the Borg Queen's genocidal campaign against the quadrant. Become Borg or die… Malcolm saw everything, he shouted his name, Ke’olan, in vain. He dropped the final bomb and rushed to his aid. But by then, it was too late. The man was barely conscious. Gasping for air, he spoke slowly, “I can hear them, their thoughts, their orders. Help me…” A single teardrop found its way down Malcolm’s cheek, he found himself replying without strength in his voice, “There is no cure, brother. There is no cure…” Taking the last breath that was his own, moments before the Collective took control, he spoke again, “Yes… there is… The cure, brother… is death.” It was then it finally came to Malcolm exactly what Ke’olan asked of him. To be allowed to die an El Aurian, not live as Borg. It was clear that he hesitated, everyone would. The Borg were getting close, too close. And then, First Specialist Taloren made the choice to honor his brother’s last wish, and fired… The blank polished energy weapon, shot out a single sustained beam of deadly energy, impacting the El Aurian soldier in the chest. His green uniform was slightly scorched by the weapon, and a few seconds later, Ke’olan ceased to breathe. Malcolm knelt beside him, speaking softly in the El Aurian tongue and closed Ke’olan’s lifeless eyes with his left hand. Then something appeared to have snapped in him. He took his own combat blade in one hand, his brother’s in the other, and took off with an almost murderous rage towards the nearest cluster of drones. He cut them down one by one, inflicting damage that not even the Borg nanotechnology could heal. To Sulhir, the man in front of her was not Lyle, but a man who simply shared his appearance. Malcolm Lyle was kind man, a man driven by his will to explore, not by revenge. That was the side of Malcolm that appealed to her. Not like she would act on it or tell anyone, but still. And despite of the difference between the Malcolm she knew, and the man in front of her, she could understand his actions. The Borg had brought pain, death and suffering on countless worlds, including Malcolm’s. He moved through the ship killing every drone that crossed paths with him. Their shields gave them no protection Malcolm’s two standard issue combat blades. Watching it all from a safe difference, a bible passage came to mind. One that had come up during a discussion between Sulhir and Father David. The nickname of the Kir’Shara’s christian chief counselor, Lieutenant Commander David Ferentz. "I will pour out my wrath upon you and breathe out my fiery anger against you; I will hand you over to brutal men, men skilled in destruction.” ~ Ezekiel 21:31 The Borg didn’t seem to notice T’Ral and Sulhir. T’Ral theorized that they were simply witnessing events that had already happened. Memories. And since they weren’t there the first time, only Malcolm could interact with them. But he didn’t seem interested in them at all, and therefore they were simply tagging along.
The assimilation hangar was not far now, and Malcolm had left quite a trail of deactivated Borg drones behind him. According to Malcolm’s scanner, there was still one vessel untouched by the Borg. It was his only way out, away from the Cube that had already killed so many. The ship itself wasn’t much to look at. And old patrol vessel, Hadar-class. Too old to take any punishment in combat, but quick and maneuverable enough to get away. And it had a massive complement of photon torpedoes aboard. It was probably one of the remote controlled “missile ships” the military had sent out when the attack was imminent. With a standard crew of five, it was not hard for Malcolm to pilot it on his own. Everything could be tied into a single console. He powered up the engines, and reached for the detonator on his belt. The same detonator that activated the bombs and the one he had left next to his brother’s lifeless body. He let out the rage of fury over his own incompetence on a nearby console. When he had decided to end his all out assault on the innocent science console, and instead do something about the situation. He acted. His ingenious solution was of course nothing else than depleting the ships complement of photon torpedoes. Six torpedoes lashed out of the forward launcher, pulverizing the hangar doors, and a spread of a dozen obliterated the assimilated El Aurian capital ship aft of Malcolm’s newly acquired vessel. As the matter/antimatter explosion tore off large sections of the Cube's hull, the small vessel, that was apparently christened Tokara, shot out, speeding away with full impulse. The Borg Cubes could take a lot of punishment, as the El Aurian defense fleet had realized only a few hours earlier. But an internal warp core explosion was beyond its regenerative capabilities. Massive plasma fires started erupting from its hull. The ship and its complement of drones had only moments left to live. The Borg were defeated, but they weren't about to give up. With a last ditch effort to do as much damage as possible, the mortally wounded Cube opened fire on the evacuation convoy. In order to protect the civilians for as long as they could, the military vessels positioned themselves in the line of fire. Sacrificing themselves to give the convoy a fighting chance to warp away. But not even the heavily armed and shielded Pendam-class capital ships could withstand the Borg onslaught. Once the military vessels were disposed of, the dying Cube turned its attention to the freighters and transport ships. When the cube finally went critical, only twelve ships remained, most of them damaged or otherwise crippled. Three, of fifty-nine ships, managed to warp away. Three… And all of it was visible from the small patrol ship’s front window. Then the setting changed again. Slowly the small cockpit faded away and a barren wasteland appeared. A dead world, much like 20th century Mars, or Risa after the Borg Invasion of 2381. All signs of life, if there ever was any, had vanished. Deadly radiation from its sun had burned away everything. Looking around in confusion, Sulhir spoke, “Where are we?” “From the information we have gathered so far, it would be a logical assumption that this dead world was once--” “El Auria,” came a hollow voice from behind them. Malcolm, dressed in a standard Starfleet issue EVA suit, walked up to them. “It is called orbital sterilization, or so I was told. This world’s atmosphere is gone, destroyed by the Borg weapons fire. I came back here twenty years ago to see what remained.” He spoke slowly, softly. “What you see here is everything that is left of a once thriving civilization. Do you see that hill over there?” he asked pointing towards a slight incline in the terrain, “My house stood there once. There was an old plaktu tree next to it. The tallest I had ever seen. Must have been…at least millennia old. My children used to carve in their respective heights every year,” he smiled, “It used to drive me crazy.” His eyes were watering by the time he locked eyes with Sulhir. Taking a deep breath, he spoke, “I am ready to leave this place, Captain. When Lieutenant T’Ral terminates the mind meld, I will wake up alongside you.” “Are you sure?” Sulhir asked, sensing the pain within him. Malcolm let out a deep sigh, “I am no longer sure of anything. Haven’t been for quite some time, but yes. Terminate the link.” ***
24 hours later The doorbell chimed, startling Commander Lyle to attention. He straightened out his uniform and asked the visitor to enter. The woman the parting doors revealed was the last person that he expected. Sulhir… Dressed in civvies, instead of a standard issue uniform, she simply stood there. Malcolm had it a figured out, to stand sternly while receiving the mother of all dress downs in Starfleet history. To accept any reprimand that she might have deemed appropriate. But instead of shouting about how he had disgraced his uniform by putting his own wished ahead of his duty, she spoke softly, “I’m not disturbing, am I?” Vaz asked taking a few steps inside. A bit confused, Lyle forced a smile. One that Sulhir didn’t appear to notice. “Not at all Captain. Have a seat. Can I get you anything?” “No,” she shook her head, “I’m quite fine, thank you. I came to talk.” His entire demeanor changed. Like a blanket of sadness had enveloped him, “I see…” he trailed off. “If I had known you were conscious, I would have visited.” She smiled. “It’s perfectly all right, nothing serious. The doc didn’t like my Isoboramine levels so he knocked me out with a hypo. ‘Said that as long I wear this,” she pointed at a small device attached to her neck, “Whatever this is, I can return to duty. How are you?” “Well, I suppose. Although, I have four weeks I have to catch up with overtime,” he smiled. She held up a hand to silence him, “Consider it medical leave. I’ve already taken care of the paperwork.” “You really didn’t need to do that, Captain. And I’m ready to accept any reprimand or punishment you deem appropriate,” he said straightening himself. She gave him a wry smile, “Reprimand for what? My report to HQ states that you made a miraculous recovery after a severe injury received in the line of duty. And I assume Dr. Cor will say the same in his report. Besides, they should give you a medal. The Cardassians are finally speaking to us again. After all, that’s the important part.” A wide smile appeared on his face, “I believe a thank you is needed. So, thank you, Captain.” He bowed his head slightly in respect. “Sully, or Sulhir. We’re off duty, number one. And you’re welcome. You know the way I run this ship, we take care of family.” she smiled broadly. “Nonetheless, I owe you one.” “Perhaps, perhaps not. Either way, I came here in case you wanted to talk.” Lyle rose slowly and approached the window. The Kir’Shara orbited Starbase Delta in a graceful elliptic orbit. The matte grey hull of the starbase camouflaged it among the asteroids now known as New Thalax. “I didn’t want you to see all that. Not exactly one of my finest moments as you might imagine. I would completely understand if you no longer want me as your first officer.” She walked up next to him. Gazing the stars for a moment before she spoke, “There is an old human saying, Malcolm. ‘To falter is human.’ ” “But we’re not human. At least, in your case, not entirely.” “Yes, that is true,” she agreed. “However I believe this is a sentiment that is apt for any species. El Aurians, Trills and Humans alike.” He said nothing. Several minutes of silence passed before he spoke again. “I was the equivalent of a thirteen year old human child when I took my father’s shuttle for a joyride. The stupidest thing I ever did,” he smiled, “On my way back, I picked up a distress call from a freighter. Their warp core was going critical. I adjusted my course and went to assist them. By the time I reached them, there was nothing they could do to save the ship so I locked on with the shuttle’s transporter. There were twenty three people aboard, but I could only get a solid lock on three. One of them materialized, a boy close to my own age, but the shock wave knocked out the transporter. By the time I landed, their patterns were too degraded for rematerialization… To this day, I don’t know if they were his parents or not. But I suppose it didn’t really matter.” “Ke’olan,” Sulhir said kindly, “The boy you saved was Ke’olan. Wasn’t he?” He nodded, “The universe has a way of balancing itself. I saved him once, and then, decades later, I had to kill him. One hell of an arrangement, isn’t it?” Sulhir locked eyes with him. “What you did…was his wish. You must know that he would have suffered more than you can imagine if he had been allowed to transform. And I'm sure you would have wanted the same thing in his position. I know I would have.” “Yes. And I made the right choice.” he replied, “But that doesn’t change the fact that I killed my brother. Because that’s what he was, genetics aside.” She gave the asteroid belt a fleeting look before turning back towards him. Finding new strength in her words, “We’ve all had to make difficult decisions. I’Nora knows, I’ll never forget that. We will probably never be able to atone for what we did, but that shouldn’t stop us from trying.” He looked at her quizzically, “You, Captain?” he asked, completely stunned by her statement. She nodded, “Yes. One of my former hosts, Colonel Fremerin Vaz, had to leave his wife behind in hostile territory. Until the last Vaz host dies, we will remember.” “I see…” Malcolm nodded slowly, and then he turned back towards the window, appearing thoughtful. “A Mind Meld is a complicated phenomenon, wouldn’t you say? There can be many side effects…” “Indeed,” Vaz agreed, “Your point?” “Is that not only memories are transferred, but emotions as well. Feelings.” Sulhir mood darkened. So this is what he means. Great… she mused. “Malcolm,” she began. But knowing that she wouldn’t be able to finish the sentence, she remained silent. Malcolm regarded her for a moment, but the rising level of discomfort forced her to leave. She almost did, but ultimately decided that if they didn’t talk it through, they probably wouldn’t be able to work together. So she took a seat in the nearby couch. Hearing her calling, Malcolm left the window and sat down on the opposite side of the table. “So…” she trailed off. After a moment of silence, she added, “No, forget it.” “Very well,” Malcolm rose again. “Was there anything else?” he asked. “Nope.” she forced a smile. “I’m good.” “Alright, Captain. See you at oh-nine-hundred.” “Aye, Commander. Don’t be late,” she smiled, “G’night.” “Good night, sir.” She headed for the door. Satisfied with once again managing to dodge the bullet. Everything was fine, her first officer was back on his feet, the ship was running more smoothly than ever, and they had finally gotten a mission that they could be proud of. The constant shipping of equipment was wearing out the crew. And as the captain of fastest ship in the fleet, Sulhir was quite tired of it. Not that she considered equipment and aid shipments unimportant, but it was still immensely boring. At least a diplomatic mission would relieve some tension. Or I will have a mutiny on my hands, she thought with mock fear. Just as the doors parted, she came to a halt and turned around. “Malcolm?” she called out. He remained at the window, “Yes, Captain?” Sulhir took a few steps inside again. The doors closing behind her the moment she was out of sensor range. “Listen. You’re my first officer. We work together every day. We need to clear the air.” “Agreed,” he nodded, still with his back towards her. “Alright. I wasn’t planning on you finding out, but you did. Albeit its technically not against regulation, it’s still inappropriate--” “How long?” he asked, cutting her off. “I don’t know,” she pondered the question, “A few months perhaps, but I wasn’t sure until four weeks ago. I understand if you feel uncomfortable around me. I don’t blame you. But I’m dealing with. Alright? I--“ “Don’t.” “I beg your pardon?” She asked, approaching him. “While I was…unconscious. I learned something, Sully,” He said, pausing for a moment. “Not only about you, but about myself. I’m stuck in the past. I was changed by El Auria’s destruction one-hundred-fifty years ago. It’s been keeping me from living. From moving on. Kept me from seeing what was right in front of me. You,” “Me?” “Don’t deal with it, Sully,” He turned towards her. Looking straight in her eyes, “Embrace it,” “Travel to every star in the universe, and return with their secrets.” ~ Vice Admiral Jennifer T’Cha Alasera, Dedication plaque of USS Kir’Shara, NX-93873
I don't care about errors (I make a lot of my own in my English fanfics ), I like the content. Emotionally packed, I'd say. Tough decisions, irreversible decisions, past decisions, future decisions...
Nonetheless, a native english speaker was a lot of help. Thanks. Thanks. I was going for emotionally packed. It was an interesting subject, quite easy to write. Cant wait what the next one will be. On a sidenote: This tale is the first part of the Kir'Shara Relaunch. Consider it a prologue. The Kir'Shara's voyages will continue from here, in English. Previous tales will remain in Hungarian and I will probably not translate them. (Btw, I went through it again not so long ago. Letters missing here and there form the copy pasta maneuver. Should be reasonably correct now.)
I thought it was very good. As Re'jal said, it was very emotionally complex. I'll have to go through again and reread it later, but my first thoughts are that it's quite impressive. All those emotions come through easily and legitimately.
I'm going to agree with everyone else. You've set up an interesting universe here and dealt with some complex emotional issues with an understated brilliance. I will, of course be rereading so this is only my preliminary impression thus far... It's rather bloody good. (love the British-Spanish engineer, and your British slang is very good) Edit: I too had to proofread my work several times after posting it here. Always hard to get the paragraph breaks just right...)
Thanks, mate. To be frank, I wasnt expecting responses this positive. Quite the surprise. Oh. And fear not! Mr Pherigo shall return!
A remarkable tale. Emotional...personal...with a little romance at the end. Of course...I particularly liked your "Easter Egg" about Sulhir, as we see who her father is--and by implication, discover who her mother is.... My compliments.
It was very well done. I've read work by English speakers that wasn't even close to your level of quality.
Thank you kindly. Thing is, what kept me from posting until now, was that i wasnt certain if I could do my characters justice in english. If I could formulate the story well enough, so to speak. But judging from the responses, i'm thinking the name ares93 will be a common ocurrence from now on. Now that my life has pretty much settled down, Starship Kir'Shara and The New Dax is back on track. (sorry 'bout the grammar. Im on my iphone atm. )
I wanted to read this before reading "Memento Mori". Quite an appealing tale having just read up to the part with the three-way mind-meld.