The Note - REALLY old

((another old old post... at least 15 years old,  kept it for posterity, now sharing it with the world))


Emerging from the shadows, Tamriel strolls across the patio to sit upon the railing of the patio.   She sighs as she watches the last rays of sunlight disappear beyond the horizon.  Blessed nightfall.  For a few hours at least, her eyes would be safe from the pain of the harsh light. 

If only all of her pain could be removed so easily, she thought.  Her mind began to wander back to a distant night.  A single conversation...

She closed her eyes, reliving that moment over and over, as she did each nightfall.  A single tear drifts down her cheek.

"I cant go on like this... I have to know" she whispered into the wind.

She slipped back inside, taking a parchment from the desk and a quill dipped in ink.  Returning to the patio, she sat down and began to write:

I once looked into your eyes
Now they haunt my dreams
Reaching across time
Tearing at my heart
I once heard your voice
Now it carries on the wind
Echoing in my mind
Touching my soul
I once felt your touch
Now I feel the phantom caress
Stealing away my reason
I don't understand
I know we can never be
I am his
And you belong to her
Yet in the darkness
As I lie here alone
It is you who fill my mind
Thoughts of what may have been
Had the fates favored
And I can't help but wonder....

Do you ever think of me?

Leaving the note unsigned, she set her pen down and rolled the parchment tight. Tying it with a silver ribbon, she called out into the night.  Moments later, a beautiful falcon answered her call.  Whispering instructions to the majestic bird, she tied the tiny scroll to his leg and he flew off into the night.   She hoped that the scroll would find its way to the one she intended, and that he would know who sent it... and care.

The Ring (First person fanfic blurb)

(ok, this is old, written almost 10 years ago now, but I just found it and had to post))

A ring…. A simple silver band… something so small for the significance it carries. It was to have been his, but the Lords saw fit to punish my lack of judgment by taking him from me… I still vividly recall the day of the funeral.

As I stood in front of my locker, fastening the final clasp on the sash of my dress uniform, there sat the box on the shelf. It was exactly where it had been since I bought it three months before… but now it seemed to stare right at me. As if my hands were acting of their own will I reached for the box, taking the ring from its velvet cage, placing it securely on my left thumb… a reminder that he should have been at my side.

There it remained throughout the day, and throughout the next several weeks… until the day I set foot on the Galactica for the first time. That day the ring returned to its velvet box on the shelf in my locker, where it sat for two years. Until today…

Why today? 24 hours ago everything was as it should be… The Galactica was to be decommissioned… we were all hanging in limbo, waiting for out next postings… I was returning to Picon… the final flight with my squadron was only hours away… a flight I missed due to getting into a little disagreement with the XO. We never saw it coming… after 40 years we were thrown into the midst of a war, forced to fight in vipers that were classed as museum pieces. And I had my first real taste of combat.

None of us could have been prepared for this… but we were here… My hands were still shaking from the adrenaline of landing two linked vipers, thus saving the life of one of my best friends… it was the least I could do… after all… I killed his brother. I reach for the velvet box one more time, taking the ring and slipping it on again, to remind me not only of what I had lost… but of all that was still left to live for.

Under the Stars

0300 hours on the clock was the only indication that it was still the middle of the night. On the Xin Caodi platform, the sky never changed, and quite frankly, she liked it that way. No matter the time you could look out over the city and see the soft glow of Djinn's Bane below, offset with the deep black of space above. It was the perfect place for a lifelong pilot to put down roots.

Not that the choice had really been hers... sure it would have come eventually, but with things the way they were... No, she wasn't going to go down that train of thought. It didn’t lead to a good end and right now she wanted to enjoy the good she had... A glance back over her shoulder to the sleeping figure quickly returned the smile to her face.

Elias... how the hell did she manage to get so damn lucky? What had been a chance encounter at a local bar had turned into... well.. maybe that’s what her mind was trying to figure out in the small hours of the morning. Turning from the window, she padded barefoot across the apartment, carefully slipping back into bed without waking him.

Propped up on her elbow, she watched him sleep a while, letting her mind wander, for the first time in as long as she cold remember, her jumbled thoughts peaceful. In just a short few months he had become the center of her universe... something she never thought she'd find again; hadn't found in this life that Wirefly had dumped her into.

For the first time, she found she was actually grateful for the opportunity the madman had given her... the past seemed so far less important now than it once had. Here was this man who had come into her life, stayed by and cared for her whens he was ill, risked his life to help save hers... and even now, with the problems the damn chip they'd put in her was causing; he never once faltered.

So much stayed unspoken between them, and that was just fine. Words only seemed to get in the way most of the time, they either weren’t the right ones or they were just not enough. Most times, it was enough to just let it be.. but tonight was not most times.

With slow gentle movement, she leaned close, whispering softly in his ear as he slept. Nestling back up close, she closed her eyes, maybe some day she would find the right moment when he was awake...

Some Jackpot This Turned Out To Be...

After months of scrambling, disappointments, dead ends, and what seemed like plain, old, bad luck, they had hit what appeared to be a jackpot of a job. Tray Porthos, captain of the Mk IV Firefly class freighter Tsunami, received a wave over the Cortex from Mr. Xue, a notoriously nefarious job broker and disreputable businessman based out of Booty Bay, about an untouched derelict in a remote sector and his broker’s fee was minimal – just one, specific supply container and the need for utmost discretion and timeliness. It wasn’t often you came across virgin derelicts with full crop, food, and medical supply manifests, though, so the need for silence and speed was a no-brainer. As soon as word got out, vultures from across several systems would be out to scavenge the dead for anything that was worth a damn.

Of course Tray didn’t ask questions, so he didn’t know how Xue may have come across such prime information, or even why the normally steep broker’s fee was so light. In his line of business, you didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, you certainly didn’t ask inconvenient questions - not if you wanted to ever get another job, anyway – and you most definitely didn’t ask questions when the person answering was someone as sinister as Mr. Xue. All told, the job was big enough to warrant hiring on more crew, and would still have them all sitting pretty for a good, long while.

Given the short notice of the job, he grabbed what folks were around and looking for work out of Booty Bay: Mikie Rhiadra and Davion Holmeforth. It wasn’t a full crew, but it was enough, and his pilot, Imrhien Fargis, knew full well how to fly under the radar in order to keep anybody from getting curious, which would hopefully buy them the time they needed. Tray and Imrhien had decided not to give any details to either until they were well underway. It wasn’t that Mikie and Davion couldn’t be trusted, but you never knew who 

might say the wrong thing to the wrong person in passing thinking it was harmless, and as the old saying goes, “loose lips sink ships.”

The journey out to the derelict was uneventful. Not wanting to raise any eyebrows, or run into any predators picking off the ships straying off the beaten path, Imrhien kept Tsunami in regular shipping lanes until she could deviate her course without notice. It wasn’t until they came upon the derelict, a hulking freighter that easily dwarfed the firefly, that any hint of unease took root in any of their guts.

Set lazily adrift in the void of space, she was spinning very slowly on all three axes, suggesting there was no power in the ship, and that the distant gravity well of the nearby gas giant had begun needling the vessel, sluggishly drawing her lifeless bulk toward her ultimate destruction in the embrace of its crushing pressure. There was no evident physical damage to the exterior hull, and so it was suggested that the ship had lost power and her occupants had abandoned her. It would have had to have been with assistance, as both of her shuttles were both still nestled into their docking platforms against her massive underbelly.

After a bit of calculating and a frightful amount of gut instinct, Imrhien had managed to dock Tsunami with the derelict, and with much groaning protest from both ships, as well as her three passengers, stabilized the nauseating spin of the larger craft. She remained on the bridge to monitor the conditions of both ships, as well as keep an eye on their surroundings. Just in case. Tray, Mikie, and Davion had moved down to the cargo hold to suit up in EVA gear as soon as their pilot’s eyeball-jarring maneuvers had ceased. So far, things were going better than they could have hoped.

As expected, they had to manually work the airlock doors of the dead craft open. Once inside, no one was surprised to find the life support and artificial gravity control systems offline. They scouted the cargo hold, finding a veritable wealth of crates, thankfully secured and seemingly undamaged. The freight was all stacked neatly, tied down, and obviously organized. Imrhien listened over the com channel as they scanned the cargo manifest and, despite the pervasive feeling of dread, settled in for a boring few hours nailed to the consoles. It wasn’t until they moved further into the ship in order to seek out some clue about what happened and how to restore power that it became quite evident something was very wrong. In the darkness, broken up only by the twinkling of console lights and screens, she heard the change in their breathing. Now they were gasping, breathing rapidly, raggedly, with a few tinny curses and quiet exclamations.

“Uh, y’all okay in there?”

Mikie was the one who responded. “Deadpan, keep an eye out for trouble. Everyone on this boat’s dead, and it wasn’t from natural causes.” That feeling of dread that had taken hold increased tenfold, just based on the fact that Mikie had used her old pilot callsign.

On the derelict, none of the three of them could really have envisioned a more gruesome scene. They had come out of the cargo bay and into a recreational room. Bodies littered the space, no doubt disturbed from where they’d fallen as their artificial gravity had been cut off. Some were riddled with bullet holes. Others had been stabbed. One woman had her throat slit open. Blood was everywhere; smeared, pooled, even droplets hanging in space. The only sounds were from their own, ragged breathing.

What had done this? Or who, was more likely. The obvious answer was Reavers, who came and killed and left. But Reavers didn’t use guns. Pirates would have taken the cargo and anything else of value, yet the hold was brimming with unmolested goods. The pirate activity on the rim had definitely increased at an alarming rate in recent months, but this didn’t fit the pattern at all. Was it some kind of hit? The unanswered questions loomed ominously over them.

As captain, it was Tray’s call, and he made it. “We get the power back on to run interior lights and artificial gravity so we can work faster, we get the cargo, and we get the hell out of here. There’s nothing we can do to help these people right now, but we got hired on for this job, so we have to do what we came here for. Dav, you come with me to track down the engine room. Mikie, you double back and get Tsunami’s the cargo bay sealed off so we can open up the airlocks and pass freely between ships. It’d be nice to work without these suits on, but I don’t relish the idea of finding out what atmo might smell like in here.” Nobody argued.

After sealing off the cargo hold to maintain the integrity of the atmosphere throughout the rest of the Firefly and opening a clear path between the two airlocks, Mikie was able to utilize some of Tsunami’s artificial gravity to begin maneuvering two pallet jacks into place. Once Tray and Davion returned with reports of more of the same carnage throughout the ship, followed by the evidence of the derelict’s power kicking back to life, the fluorescent bulbs lining the ceiling of the bay flickering on, they were able to begin working. Unlashing each pallet of freight, they moved quickly to work out a system, loading it on a hauler and carting it back to their ship with a speed borne of stark fear and hopeful desperation.

Meanwhile, having been fully apprised of the situation, Imrhien moved around the bridge, scanning the dark, as well as familiarizing herself with their location. The gas giant was the closest planetary body, looming somewhere beyond the bridge’s viewport, but definitely within visual range. They were far enough out in rim territory that there were no known settlements even remotely proximate to their position. It was enough to give her a small measure of reassurance that it was unlikely anyone might happen across their path, at least not accidentally.

Still… This was an untouched derelict, its existence, condition, and position were known, at least in parts of the shady underground. How long would it be before some authority came around looking for this freighter, with her tens of thousands of credits worth of cargo, which had never made it to her destination? How long had she been out here? How long had her crew been corpses? Who was missing this shipment of supplies? Do we have a solid alibi if we get caught pulling salvage?

And somewhere, there were the more troubling questions. What had these people, these cold, dead, slaughtered people had to endure? Why were they dead? Did they deserve this? Shouldn’t we take the time to give them a proper burial? But that last question was easily answered: No. When they got back, they could alert someone, get the word down the wire to make sure they were laid to rest properly, but it was too risky to do it here and now, lest they be discovered and blamed for all the murders.

Long, tense minutes ticked by uneventfully, slowly mounting into anxious hours. Imrhien longed to be down there lending a hand, at least to fill that long stretch of silence with physical labor as opposed to sitting back and waiting. The others probably wouldn’t have minded the break. She knew, though, that if something did happen, she needed to be here on the bridge so that she would have time to react intelligently to a new situation, as opposed to scrambling wildly. Still, the uneventful passage of time as they hauled more and more of the cargo on board gave them all a steadily increasing sense of relief.

As if on cue, when they were three quarters of the way finished and their guard had almost entirely dropped, a blip popped up on Tsunami’s sensor screens, triggering a soft alarm. Imrhien cursed loudly, scanning her consoles for any and all information on the incoming vessel, size, type, and their direction of travel, even as she voiced into her com, “We’re ‘bout to have company. Whoever’s comin’s makin’ a beeline for us, and they ain’t doin’ it slow.”

On the derelict, Tray began shouting orders. “Mikie, Dav, get back to the ship now. We’re leaving.” Everything was dropped, the remaining quarter of the cargo abandoned, and equipment rushed back to Tsunami’s cargo bay. As soon as everyone and everything was accounted for, Tray palmed the com panel just inside the cargo bay from the airlock, calling up to the bridge, “We’re back, Imrhien. Get us the hell out of here.”

Once she had the all clear, Imrhien sealed off the airlocks and blew the docking seal, using attitude thrusters to clear the derelict enough to swing the Firefly around. She knew any ship that could come up on them that quickly was likely significantly more advanced and would not only be able to detect that they’d been there, but also easily be able to track and apprehend them.

Proper planning does, as it turns out, prevent piss poor performance, as well as awkward and uncomfortable situations, such as trying to explain to some authority force why you were docked with a derelict craft full of dead bodies and expensive cargo. By the time she was positioned to move, Tray, Mikie, and Davion were on the bridge, watching tensely through the viewport. Hitting a few buttons and flipping one switch, Imrhien sent her plan into action, casting off one very small and hopefully undetectable item before proverbially putting the petal to the metal and hauling off at full burn toward the distant gas giant. Data poured down her screens, readings from the planet before her, as well as regarding the approaching ship. Halfway to her intended destination, she hit another series of switches, which resulted in a loud metallic clanking for a few seconds. Tray quickly scanned the various displays and gauges. He thought he knew every squeak, rattle and groan his ship was capable of making, but this one was new. While alarming, he kept his concern to himself; he knew that Imrhien was in ‘the zone,’ as it were, and he was not going to do anything to break her concentration.

Once she’d found what she was looking for on the planet, the furthest magnetic pole from the derelict site, and had adjusted trajectory, Imrhien killed power to Tsunami, keeping only life support systems online as she guided the firefly toward the blind spot with the intent that they would leave less of a heat or particle signature for their pursuers to chase. Also, just in case her first plan didn’t work, not leaving a trail straight to their hiding spot could give her a few moments to figure something else out. Or run.

--

The Federation vessel, USS Heinlen, had slowed on their approach to the derelict. The order to go investigate a report of a ship stranded at these coordinates had, so far, been legitimate. The captain was worried, given that there had been another ship docked to the craft in question, but it had fled upon the Federation ship’s arrival. It meant that this other ship was probably up to no good. If there were crew and passengers on the stranded vessel, they might be in need of medical attention.

The Starfleet captain ordered a full scan of the damaged freighter. The fact that his crew reported back that there were no life signs onboard was terribly worrisome. It made the decision to leave the derelict to pursue the fleeing ship much easier. Based on their scans, the vessel was somewhat substandard technology for the human civilizations in nearby systems, a firefly transport. It was obvious that the ship was heading for the gas giant to hide, probably in one of the magnetic fields. Those ships lacked any kind of FTL capability, so it wouldn’t be too difficult to apprehend it. Ordering his own ship to follow their course for intercept, he settled back into his chair, wondering what exactly they were going to find. His gut told him nothing good.

A series of small explosions shuddered against the hull as the net of photon flash-bang grenades Imrhien had left behind annihilated. It wasn’t enough to do any damage, or even give them any turbulence – they made a loud boom and a blinding light – but it had triggered an alarm. The captain looked around, the fact that all of the sensors were down took a moment to sink in.

--

“You weaponized my ship without telling me?” Captain Tray Porthos exclaimed. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to strangle his pilot or kiss her, but decided that either course of action would be extraordinarily dangerous.

Imrhien simply smiled, shrugging. “Like hell I was gonna go flyin’ ‘round the ‘verse in a defenseless boat. Anyhow, ain’t like I broke their ship or nothin’, prol’ly didn’t even scratch her. Flash-bangs just play merry hell with their sensors. They’ll be blind for a bit while we hide in the magnetic field o’ the pole o’ this handy planet here.” Mikie was laughing, already having figured out what Imrhien’s plan was. Davion looked a bit pale, but chuckled with reassurance from Mikie’s obvious mirth.

Tray shook his head slowly. “Right, because they’ll never think to look for us behind the gorram planet, let alone hiding in its magnetic field!”

Rolling her eyes, but still kept most of her attention on her instruments, watching. “Would you relax, Cap’n? They ain’t comin’ over here. They’ll haul off here in a few minutes, ‘n we can get the hell outta dodge.”

“How in the nine hells do you know that?” her captain queried, his calm demeanor starkly contrasting with his question.

--

The captain of the USS Heinlen was experiencing a moment of anger, as well as a sardonic sort of sympathy for their quarry while he paced the bridge, waiting for their sensors to come back online. If that was the best they could do to throw a Federation ship off their trail… Especially if they thought it had any chance of working…

Finally, he heard, “Captain, the sensors are clearing, but I’m picking up a distress signal from a ship approximately a half of a light year from our location…”

Sighing, he ordered his ship to make all haste to assist the distressed ship. Despite being just about positive this was a decoy to draw them away, there were regulations, and he had to follow them. A ship in trouble trumped chasing down a ship of potential pirates. He would just have to track them down later using their scan logs.

--

“That’ll be a story to tell the grandkids: How we narrowly outfoxed a Starfleet ship using only flash-bang grenades and a crybaby.” Davion was still chuckling once they were well out of hot water and safely camouflaged in regular shipping lanes. All of them were still trying to shake off the tension.

With her course set, Imrhien had turned navigational controls over to autopilot in order to join the others in the cargo bay. The four of them stood around the crate that Tray had found and dug out. They had agreed that they definitely needed to find out more about what was going on here, and the best place to start was inside the container that Xue had sent them after in the first place.

“We need to know what it is,” Tray began, “But there’s a good chance somebody already tried to frame us for killing all those folks. How can we be sure this thing isn’t wired with enough explosives to blow us back to Earth That Was set to go off as soon as we crack the lid on it? Maybe the crate’s insurance that we’re outta the way, one way or another.”

“Less we gotta worry ‘bout if we do explode.” Imrhien lifted up a crowbar and smacked it against the plywood shell. “But I don’t reckon that’s gonna blow.” She glanced over at Mikie, who was also brandishing a crowbar, and arched an eyebrow. “What’cha think ‘bout this?”

Mikie answered by ramming the blade of the crowbar under the wooden lid. “I think Xue wouldn’t betray me. I also think if he wanted to kill or torture us, he wouldn’t send us out and have the authorities do it; he’d want to do it himself. And given who’s in this ship right now, framing us and turning us over to the authorities would be an incredibly stupid move on his part. Xue ain’t stupid, so this ain’t a bomb.” Imrhien had also jammed her crowbar under the lid, and together, they pried it open enough for Tray and Davion to strongarm it the rest of the way off.

A container lay nested within, a large metal tube that looked frighteningly like a missile, but without any kind of propulsion system attached. A line of clear material ran across the top, the inner sides of each pane lightly frosted around the edges. The four of them leaned in to investigate further. Inside the metal container were two bodies. Both appeared to be alive, sleeping, maybe frozen, but definitely in some kind of stasis.

“Oh Jesus,” Imrhien said, arching back from the container, her face pale.

“What the hell, Xue’s buying bodies now?” Davion lowered himself to get a closer view.

“Like he’s never done that before,” Mikie snorted. “Man ain’t got the morals of a hungry tomcat.”

 

“So, we’re trafficking humans? That’s what this is about?” Tray asked.

Imrhien folded her arms across her chest and stepped back up to the crate. “I’m pretty sure this ain’t a slave trade thing, y’all. It’s way worse.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Tray furrowed his brow at her.

“’Cause that,” Imrhien said quietly as she pointed at one of the bodies, “is Jo Massenberg.”