Nevasa Storyline - Sakarra Tyrax

Nevasa

[Sas-a-Shar (The Forge), Vulcan]

8th Day in the month of re`T‘Khutai, YS 9012

“What is Kiri-kin-tha's First Law of Metaphysics?”

“Oh, come now, Sovar.”

The tall, lithe Vulcan in the white desert suit simply gave her one of his ‘looks’ and Sakarra sighed inwardly “Nothing unreal exists.”

He nodded. “Elaborate.”

“Huh?”

She didn’t know what was more annoying, the sand which seemed to have a tendency to get everywhere - from your hair to your water supply - or her travel companion. And for that matter, she had no idea what had prompted him to drag her into this place either. Utter desolation wouldn’t even begin to describe it. The desert outside Shi’Kahr was lush by comparison.

They had been traversing this wasteland of rocks and sand for the past two days and nights, resting only during the hottest hours of the day and the coldest of the night, and still Sakarra failed to see the point of this exercise. Then of course there was the absolutely lovely fact that no technology would work here and, oh, while there was literally no food or water, there were indeed predators around. Wild Sehlat, although rare, and of course Le-Matya. The only reason Sakarra still carried her grandmother’s Lirpa strapped across her back instead of having tossed the bulky thing over the next rock, was that she didn’t like the idea of becoming lunch.

And as if all that wasn’t irritating enough, Sovar insisted on making what qualified as “small talk” among Vulcans - light conversation regarding the sciences, philosophy and, as of today, metaphysics.

“I am interested in your interpretation of this statement, Sakarra-kam.”

“Oh…” she looked at the rocks around them, the searing sun and the dark haired Vulcan walking beside her. She felt the weight of the Lirpa and the water bag. All real enough, although she wished some of it was not. Alright, most of it.

“I don’t know, Sovar. I mean, how do you define ‘unreal’ in the first place? If I see a mirage of a giant bucket with peach ice cream right now, that doesn’t make the bucket real but the mirage would be in a way. At least to me. You could tie your brain into knots thinking about stuff like that.”

She looked towards the next batch of rocks which looked exactly like the dozens of others they had walked past and wondered if they’d been walking in circles. “What do they eat, anyways? Except us, I mean?”

Now it was Sovar’s turn to be puzzled “They?”

“Well, a Le-Matya is rather big and I doubt they find rocks palatable. So how do they survive?”

This demonstration of erratic thought earned the young woman another ‘look’, but Sovar seemed inclined to humor her “Their species evolved on this planet. As did ours, I might add.”

He scanned the hills and seemed to be listening for something, although for the life of her Sakarra could not figure what that might be, and then suddenly changed direction. “It may be just as well you asked that question.” He stopped and the young woman who had already been thrown off track by the sharp turn almost bumped into him.

“Sovar…” she sighed and was about to point out that he shouldn’t be the one lecturing her about being unpredictable, when he held up his hand and studied her unhappy face.

“We have an opportunity to refill our water supplies. Proceed.”

“Proceed?” he had to be joking. He wanted her to find water? Here? Talk about mirages… still, she looked around. Rocks. Sand. Sun. More rocks.

“No” he slowly shook his head “You are not perceiving reality with all your senses”

“Four Deities help me, Sovar, if you don’t stop going all metaphysical on me…”

She almost jumped when he interrupted her by stepping close and raising his hand next to her face. “Will you allow me?”

The young woman hesitated for a second but then nodded slowly. As annoying as Sovar could be, he’d never given her reason not to trust him. And logically ‘oh, here I go’ he must think there’d be some point to all of this or else he wouldn’t go to such lengths to look after his erratic, undisciplined .. she inhaled sharply when his fingertips found the meld points … confused but funny and right now rather bedraggled looking… WAIT a minute.

Through the sudden sensation of vertigo she felt his steady presence ‘focus not on me but your senses’

Right. Senses. Which ONE?

‘All of them’

Who said Vulcans have no sense of humor? How could you focus on all of them at the same… ah. Fascinating.

She blinked. It was the same desert alright, but something had changed. Shifted, somehow. The air was no longer just hot and dry but filled with subtle scents, the colors were no longer a mere blur under the bright sun …

“Oh, goodness”

‘Focus’

Someone was laughing silently, and someone was mentally bouncing up and down with excitement, but who was doing what, Sakarra couldn’t tell.

Her noses ‘this is SO weird. I’ll never get used to it.’ alerted her to something. Something important. Water. Underground spring, right over there. How could she not have sensed it earlier?

“I’ll be damned.”

The presence that had been lingering at the edges of her mind withdrew slowly, and despite the fact that Sakarra was really busy dealing with all the information flooding her senses right now, she felt a pang of disappointment, like a child who just lost a favorite toy.

She blinked again and looked at Sovar who was watching her intently. His face was as expressionless as ever but something had changed there, too. She might have known. Should have known. Damn the whole lot of them. Us. Whatever.

“I’m going to get a headache.”

He still didn’t move a muscle but she could have sworn she heard him chuckle. “Then I suggest you find that spring. Cool water is an efficient remedy for any number of ailments.”

“Sovar, it’s covered with rocks. How do you suggest we get to it? It’s not like we can just phaser those damn things away and…”

He raised a brow, looked at his hands, then hers.

“Right. Remind me to NEVER go walkabout with you again. Ever.”

They moved towards what Sakarra now recognized as a small mountain, so deeply buried in sand and rubble that only the peak was visible, and the young Vulcan studied the reddish stone before selecting a rather large rock, apparently at random, although Sakarra now knew better.

“Walkabout?”

She clambered up on the other side and helped him to pry the darned thing loose. It thundered down the slope, taking some smaller rocks right along with it, and now all there was between them and water were some pebbles and sand. The young woman flopped down and started digging. One of these days she’d figure out how he did it. All of it.

And then, just to get even, she would drag him through the jungles on Betazed. If he didn’t end up in a mud pit or got eaten by a fogcat she would drown him under the Janaran falls.

“Something my daddy used to call our little field trips. If we ever make it back to civilization, you can look it up.”

“Indeed.”

Nevasa - Part II

[Sas-a-Shar, Vulcan]

19th Day in the month of re`T‘Khutai, YS 9012

She was leaning against the rock face, oblivious to the chill of the desert night. Even though she refused to admit to any physical exhaustion, Sovar knew she was grateful for the rest. However, she also needed to eat. The young Vulcan selected an ob’taree with additional vitamins from his pack and gave her an inquiring look. Without opening her eyes, she sighed “No, don’t tell me. Cookies again.”

Of course he knew by now that this was a rather good natured complaint and took it as such. He waited patiently for 2.53 minutes until she opened her eyes “If I don’t take it, you’re just going to sit here until the galaxy implodes, won’t you?”

“That would be most illogical, if not to say improbable” he answered levelly.

“Still, would be an interesting scientific experiment. Now don’t look at me in that tone of voice and give it here.” He opted for not inquiring about the meaning of her last sentence - in fact, he had a fairly good idea anyways.

“Shaya tonat” Sakarra took the thing she silently called ‘Vulcan energy cookies’ from her cousin and watched him unfold the blankets. Amazing things, thin and light as silk but they could rival a down jacket when it came to keeping you warm. Funny, she hadn’t realized how cold she was until now. She had been too busy enjoying the clean, fragrant air and counting the parts of her body that were complaining about being pushed to their limits and then some.

But in an odd way, this place had grown on her. There was something to be said about the simplicity of surviving in one of the most inhospitable environments this planet had to offer. You either found water or you didn’t. You either were able to walk on or you weren’t. You either had food or became a Le-Matya’s dinner.

No need and no time to worry about much else, really. Boundaries between life and death were quite fluent here, and either way it didn’t seem to matter.

Sitting on a tiny plateau overlooking Vulcan’s Forge, Sakarra felt more at peace with herself than she had been in a long time. She inhaled deeply one more time and started nibbling on her cookie.

Sovar carefully draped a blanket over his young relative and then proceeded to select an ob’taree for himself. She had done well this far, despite those in the family who had voiced doubts about the wisdom of Sovar’s decision to take her here. But he had presented his arguments logically and in the end T’Leia herself had determined that Sovar should proceed. Perfectly logical, since the matriarch had been the one entrusting him with Sakarra’s training in the first place.

He remembered that initial conversation well. T’Leia had made it clear that this young one was going to be different but that he was the logical choice to teach her what she needed to know to be accepted into the Institute of Defensive Arts. Of course he had to concede that as a guest instructor at the Institute he knew what was expected and was uniquely qualified to evaluate her abilities and enhance her skills. The matron had also pointed out that they were close in years, shared the same fifth foremother and could both be considered somewhat unconventional. Sovar had pointedly refrained from disagreeing with that latter assessment and set out to do T’Leia’s bidding.

As expected, it had been a difficult beginning. But T’Sora’s daughter had managed to surprise him in more than one way. Although she was still rather undisciplined and ruled by emotion (by now she had cursed him and called him names in a variety of languages, the most colorful being Andorian and Terran dialects), she had never backed down or refused a challenge.

In fact, he had come to believe she had indeed potential once she would allow herself to let go of all the destructive anger and hurt.

And should she one day succeed in combining her Betazoid intuition and adaptability with Vulcan perseverance and quick thinking, she might become an opponent to be reckoned with.

Sovar was determined to see her reach that goal - no longer because he had been asked to, but because … well, because he wanted to.

Smiling inwardly, the young Vulcan admitted to himself he had grown rather fond of this one. She most certainly could try anyone’s patience, but there was something refreshing about many of her idiosyncrasies.

In those rare moments when her mind was at peace, one could even sense her most endearing qualities and Sovar found himself watching the still figure outlined against the stars, wrapped in a blanket, completely absorbed by the sheer beauty of her surroundings.

A distinctive sound interrupted his ponderings and to his satisfaction he noted that she had heard it, too.

“Sehlat” he murmured

“Yes, what?”

For 2.2 seconds they looked at each other, confused.

“Never mind. I thought they rarely come this far into the Forge. And they don’t like to climb anyways.”

Sovar shook his head and reached for the Lirpa “You are correct. However, this one does not seem to care for such generalizations.”

They could see the shadowy figure of the large animal now as it attempted to scramble up to the plateau, snorting with displeasure. Actually, it was making quite an uncharacteristic amount of noise and it was unusually big…

“Warya!” Sakarra exclaimed and jumped up to greet her furry friend.

“You stubborn old…” the Sehlat growled happily and increased his efforts to clamber up the slope, succeeding only in creating a minor rock slide.

“Wait, wait, you big fluffy goofball. I’ll help you.”

Sovar raised a brow although in this darkness neither Sakarra nor Warya were likely to see it - nor would they probably care - and joined his young relative in pushing the large animal up to their makeshift camp.

“Come on, move your big behind. I thought Sa’mekh’al told you to stay home, how did you find us anyways?”

“Rrrrrrr. Wrooooow.”

“Right. Should have known.”

Sovar wondered if those two actually did understand one another - Sehlat were unusually perceptive and with a half-Betazoid anything was possible- and just how the elderly Warya had managed to locate them in this vast desert. Of course he had heard stories, too, but had never quite experienced something like this himself.

“They have their own version of k’war’ma’khon, Sovar.” she answered his unspoken question and them chuckled quietly “It was written all over your face. But don’t worry, I doubt anyone else would have noticed.”

Well, that would most certainly explain a few things. Fascinating.

The Sehlat seemed happy now, having found the biped cubs unharmed and well, although he himself looked somewhat disheveled. If it weren’t for his size and the way he now stretched out next to the bipeds, making it clear he expected to be scratched behind the ears for his troubles, one might have mistaken him for one of his wild cousins. Well, not really. Sovar doubted that any wild Sehlat would ever purr like this nor roll over on its back to give someone access to pet the softer belly fur while happily waving four giant paws in the air. It was in fact a quite comical sight. In the safety of the desert night, the young Vulcan smiled.

“I saw that!” she had snuggled up to the content Sehlat, draping the blanket over both of them, and he could sense the laughter bubbling inside her.

“Sovar of Vulcan, advocate of all things reasonable and moderate, has officially committed a major fauxpas. Smiling when you think no one can see? For shame!”

If he didn’t know better, Sovar could have sworn even the Sehlat was snickering at him.

“Come on, he’s not only fluffy but warm. And he’s really quite fond of you.” Sakarra had obviously decided to drop the matter although to his surprise, her good humored mocking had not bothered him in the least. The young Vulcan joined his two friends ‘And friends they are indeed. Although I cannot say when I first thought of her that way…’ and immediately he felt the warmth radiating off both of them. Of all the ways to spend a night in the Forge, this was maybe one of the rather unusual one’s but definitely among the more pleasant.

“Rrrrrrroowwwffff”

“Oh, really? Well, if it makes you happy…”

This time Sovar thought he knew what the Sehlat wanted, and indeed, only a few seconds later Sakarra’s rich, vibrant soprano rose into the clear night.

He made a mental note to add ‘billabong’, ’jumbuck’ and ’waltzing’ to the list of words he needed to look up. And he would definitely have to find out who this “Matilda” was.

Je me souviens

[T‘Shen monastery, Shi‘al province, Vulcan]

7th Day in the month of Z'at , YS 9013

“Tu'ash'voh svep. Voka’voh. Haul’voh. Ken’voh.”

Remember… reflect… understand…

The floor was soothingly cool and the wide windows in the ancient walls bathed the golden colored stone in sunlight. The young woman in the sand-red robes was settled comfortably in a meditation pose, but she was not quite certain how this simplest of mental exercises should help in learning how to induce a healing trance. Still, if anyone knew what they were doing, it was the healers of T’Shen. Sakarra breathed and in the peace of the evening sun she let the memories unravel.

.

“Kara, wait for me, ‘Kara!"

The little girl running, leaping, flying, the boy falling behind but still laughing.

Always stronger, always faster, but that’s just the way things are, right?

“Come on, Lan!”

.....

“Don’t cry, ‘Kara, oh please stop crying…”

Shock, sadness, remorse … they had been playing and now Okalan was hurt… she hadn’t meant to…

“I’m sorry Lan, I’m so sorry…”

The little boy with the tousled hair looking almost as distressed as the weeping girl, patting, comforting, …

“It’s okay ‘Kara, look, it’s just a bruise. It’ll go away. You didn’t mean to… oh, don’t cry…”

…………

The happily humming Betazoid up on the ledge, reaching for a plant, then slipping, falling..

“Daddy! Daddy did you hurt yourself?”

A frown, then a wry grin “A little, I think”

“Here let me help you up…”

Pain, surprise, confusion… she wasn’t hurt but for a moment it had felt as if she was… but … this is what it must feel like to go mad…

“Sit down, little one. Breathe”

“But daddy your leg - it’s …”

A gentle, knowing smile “Breathe. Remember when I told you….”

………

The elder Betazoid lady looking thoughtful, reaching for her tea

“There’s just no stopping this little one. She means no harm, but…”

The raven haired woman with features so much like the teenage girl sitting on the stairs, nodding calmly “I shall take her with me.”

“T’Sora dear, that’s not what I meant. We adore her but frankly, a rainstorm does wreak less havoc than our little one once she gets going. Being cooped up in a starship might be the LAST thing…”

A cryptic smile “It will be a challenge, yes.”

Excitement. She would go with M’aih again, fly like a Nightwind, only out across the stars…

Sadness to have made such a mess of things again, everyone was so kind and understanding but somehow she always …

A silent vow to do better. ‘I know I can‘….

………

“You’re a VULCAN”

“You’re an Andorian.”

“Duh”

Eyes that have seen much, a face showing surprise and a sort of grumpy humor “I want a wingman and they toss me a Vulcan. What gives?”

Did I say something wrong? Does she not like Vulcans? But I’m…

“Right, let’s see what you got. I’ll ride shotgun and you better not hold back girl, I’m not easily impressed.”

More puzzlement. What does she mean… but they said I should NOT fly like a mad fogcat any more…

An old, battered fighter, painted on it a white predatory animal, it’s fangs bared. Writing underneath. Andorian script. The young woman touching the paint with gentle fingers.

“What does it mean?”

A husky laugh from the blue skinned woman “Roughly translated? I’ll die another day.”

………

“I think I just stepped into something”

Someone muttering Andorian curses, another woman giggling.

“You SURE this is a shortcut to Moshe’s house? ” Laughter bubbling inside, but it’s night and Deities only know where they are… don’t want to wake up anyone… snug and warm between Sirta and Kolan … where IS that house? That looks like a flowerbed they are walking through… Uh oh….

“Sure I’m sure. Oh SH…”

“Are we in trouble?”

“What do YOU think?”

………

The two neighbors standing by the hedge, debating.

She can hear them, but she has a more immediate problem…

“There’s a human in that tree.”

“And he’s got flowers”

“How do you think he got up there?”

“I think the question is how do we get him down?”

“Rel’s little one is on it.”

“Like the poor dear’s not in enough trouble already!”

“Him or her?”

He’s impossible. He’s adorable. He’s mischief a-walking. Makes two of us I guess. Now what?

“James, will you just jump already?”

“And come down on you like a ton o’ Irish bricks?”

“What are you doing in that tree anyways?”

He grins, points at her window, waves the flowers.

She laughs until she can hardly breathe.

…………

“Go maire tu, bean mo chroi”

“You, too.”

He smiles, like he always does. He’d smile at that devil his people believe in right before lighting a firecracker under it’s hooves.

Please, this time let it be the Saints he also believes in that go with him…

…………

“I think not, ko-kan.”

“WHY?”

So much anger, burning fury, and at the same time utter helplessness. Let me go with you, let me stand by you, why won’t you LET me….

“Cast out fear, little one. There is no room for anything else until you cast out fear….”

I am NOT AFRAID!!!!

.

Sakarra inhaled sharply as awareness of her surroundings flooded back into her mind. The healer in her tan robes got up and left silently, while the young woman blinked. Darkness had fallen - from the looks of it quite some time ago. The fires in the large copper bowls had been lit and she looked at the dancing flames throwing patterns of light at the walls and floor.

Remember. Reflect. Understand.

Yes, she had been afraid.

But you could not be afraid to lose. Not when you needed to let go.

"Out of the Dark" Part I

2401

[---classified---]

Commander Ranil Ranasinghe felt his palms begin to sweat. He’d always laughed at such clichés but right now laughter was the farthest thing from his mind.

“Will you repeat that message, Lieutenant?”

“Aye, sir. Romulan attack on Arcadia confirmed. Several ships reported heading in our direction, but they’re cloaked now. No way to track them at this moment.”

“Well, I think a red alert may be called for in either case, Mr Sithundë. Please see to it that all civilians report to shelters until we know more about what the hell is going on.”

Turning towards the large windows of the space station, Ranil felt a sinking sensation in the vicinity of his stomach. What could anyone want from them? They were but a tiny space station with an even tinier space dock. Their strategic value was somewhere along the lines of a dairy farm in the middle of nowhere. Unless… unless someone was thinking ahead and wanted to disrupt Federation backup supply lines before they could even be established.

“Oh, Shiva avert it” he groaned. If that was the case, they were ..

“Royally screwed, lad. Royally.”

“Pardon me, Mr Donegan?” Ranil turned and looked at his Chief Engineer with the eyes of a man hoping for good news but fearing the worst.

“Ah, there you are Commander. As I was just explaining to the multi-pedal lad here, the Seoul inna goin’ anywhere fast, sir. She’s got impulse and about warp one but don’t ask for shields or even weapons.”

“Considering that you estimated repair time at three weeks, that’s more than I’d hoped for. Can we use her to evacuate our civilians, just in case?”

“Sure, Commander. Where’d you like the poor lass to limp? She’d probably be able to make Vulcan or Andoria in about two weeks or so.”

“Mr Donegan, there is no need for…” he stopped himself when the face of his tactical officers turned from a usual healthy gray to a very odd ivory.

“Lieutenant?”

“Contacts, sir. Two, no three, heading right here.”

Ranil had a feeling he knew all to well who was about to pay them a less than friendly visit, but he had to ask the question. “ID’s?”

“Romulan, sir. Valdore-type. They’re not even cloaked any more.” Sithundë stared at his tactical screen in disbelief.

‘We’re coming for you and there isn’t a thing you can do about it. The arrogance…’

“Very well, hail them Lieutenant. Maybe they just took a wrong turn somewhere.”

“Fat chance o’ that” he heard his engineer grumble but everyone else was simply very, very quiet.

“No response, sir. Well sort of a response, They’re charging weapons. Eight minutes until they’re in range at current speed.”

‘So that’s what this comes down to. Very well then.’

Ranil was by all accounts a peaceful man, although his family history sported more than one fierce warrior. For millennia, his home on earth’s Indian subcontinent had been a theater for one war or another but what he’d always found more intriguing than all the bloody splendor of ages past was the story of humans bringing peace in the middle of chaos and violence. Buddha, Asoka, Gandhi. He only wished he had one of those to help him now.

He stared at the darkness outside as if he could already see the three moving dots coasting towards them, ready to rain death and destruction upon a station ill equipped to offer any meaningful resistance.

“Battle stations.”

Only seven minutes later, he could indeed see them. Although nowhere near as gigantic as the D’Deridex war birds, the Valdore class packed enough firepower in their own rights. Ranil looked at the sleek, elegant lines of the three ships with no small measure of fatalism. One of them they might have been able to fend off or stall until help arrived, with a bit of luck even two. Someone wanted to be sure. And someone was too well informed about their situation for Ranil’s liking. May Kali have an unpleasant surprise in store for the mysterious someone. He sighed, but not loud enough for anyone to hear.

“Any response to our distress call?”

“The Mecklenburg has responded, sir.” Lieutenant Sithundë stated in a voice that should have been more enthusiastic - the cruiser might not even the odds, but give them a fighting chance at least.

“Coming towards us at warp 9.9, sir. Estimated arrival 68 minutes.”

That explained the lack of enthusiasm. Judging from the attitude of those war birds - and yes, there was the first volley, those people really didn’t believe in wasting time with pleasantries, did they? - by the time the Mecklenburg got here all they would find was wreckage.

“Whatever happened to a polite ’Prepare to die’ or some other declaration of intent before shooting at people?” Commander Ranasinghe muttered and held on to a console as the station rocked again.

“Well, by all means, return fire for all the good it will do.”

“Aye, sir.” the tactical officer sounded as resigned as his Commander and Ranil did not like that one bit.

“Mr Sithundë, the fat lady has not yet sung. We will sell ourselves dearly. I happen to know the first officer of the Mecklenburg and if we managed to get ourselves killed before he can play the hero and rescue us, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

A blank look followed that statement, but then the officer went about launching his torpedoes with renewed determination.

“Mr Donegan...”

“I know, I know. Keep her together. By whatever means. You happen to have some duct tape? We’re gonna need it.” as usual, when he was upset the Scot’s drawl became worse than usual. “Those bloody…”

“Sir, we’re being hailed! Vulcan science vessel Seleya responding to our distress call. Arrival in…”

“Science vessel? Are those people mad? Tell them to get out of here!”

“3.1 minutes, sir. “

“What? Where the hell are they coming… oh by Shiva.” the station rocked hard as the war birds focused their fire on a section with weakening shields and Commander Ranasinghe found himself so annoyed he even forgot to be afraid. “Those Romulans will be only too happy to take a potshot at … Lieutenant, I don’t want to sound negative but why have we stopped firing?”

“Thrandasar, get me that power back!” Ranil heard his chief engineer shout towards one of his people, an Andorian lady with hair that always reminded the Commander of the snow capped peaks of the Himalaya. Too bad he’d never asked her out for dinner.

“Reinforcing shields now, sir. Power to phasers still insufficient. And I don’t know where they’re coming from, sir. The only ship I have in the database under Seleya is a prototype.”

“Oh well, a prototype on a test flight. That makes me feel better. Did you tell them to get their …”

“I tried, Commander. But our Comm is being jammed.”

“Ah. What took them so long, anyways?”

Ranil couldn’t help but look out the large window where one of the war birds was now breaking formation - either to get a better angle and bring their formidable weapons that much better to bear or because they’d noticed the approach of another ship. A part of him wondered what kind of people would go to such lengths to give their instruments of war and death such beautiful shapes.

As the Valdore turned in the fashion of a Bengal tiger that had picked up the scent of fresh prey, he was treated to a marvelous view of the ‘wing’ section and all he could hope at that moment was that they would be quick about it. Or maybe, just maybe the Seleya’s captain came to his senses and made a run for it rather than letting his crew die senselessly.

Knowing Vulcans from dealing with his Chief medical officer though he had a nagging suspicion that said captain would be just as stubborn…

“Try it now, lad!” Commander Donegal shouted over the sound of exploding consoles and indeed, the stations phasers came back online just as number four shields finally collapsed. The war birds’ fire cut into the hull with a sound that would haunt Ranil for the rest of his life - a life that might end soon enough anyways, so no harm done he thought.

As people in the command center were thrown about like rag dolls and another console exploded, leaving a young Tellarite limp in his chair, Ranil kept his gaze fixed on the war birds. Stare death in the face. Another one of those old clichés he used to laugh about.

He flinched when a sudden burst of light erupted just a few hundred meters in front of the war bird. At first he didn’t even see the ship that had just dropped out of warp, practically under the tiger’s nose. Because they had come in phasers ablaze, throwing hot blue fire at point blank range before veering off in a desperate attempt not to crash their ship into the Valdore’s shields. Shields they had barely been able to make a dent in.

“Lieutenant, concentrate your fire on that war bird!” it might not do more than distract them .. No, not even that. Again, the Romulans had wasted no time and returned the insolent little ship’s fire with a barrage of their own. And little it was, by comparison. Barely one third of the war bird’s size, and Vishnu only knew how many people on board.

As Ranil watched the Vulcans throw themselves away from the phaser beams that made their shields flare, he saw the elegantly curved lines of their ship, even could discern some markings on the dark red hull. What a shame it was, they had returned to their ancient designs and built such a beauty, only to have it blown up… that’s when he saw a section of the hull curve away and a dozen tiny red shapes race out to meet the tiger’s fangs. Fighters? On a science ship? But what difference did it make…

“Mad.” he murmured as he clung to a console, ignoring the shouts of his Chief Engineer and the triumphant yell of his tactical officer as they finally managed to get the shields back up. For however long.

“They must be mad.”

---

Continued in: Nevasa ~ Chapter Two