A Mission Post by Lieutenant Commander Jin Rha-Yaleii
Mission: Coil of Darkness
Location: Vulcan
Timeline: some days prior to the Romulan delegation leaving ch'Rihan
[Shi'Kahr spaceport, Shi'al province, Vulcan]
Tavek was beginning to think that perhaps the V'Shar had not been an ideal career choice after all. Not that duty at the spaceport was unpleasant, it was in fact proving quite interesting. Especially the port at Shi'Kahr, smaller and more picturesque than the busy, sprawling complex at Regar, or even the ancient, stately port at Vulcinis with its grandiose vaulted ceilings. Neither an important trade center nor home to the planet's famous shipyards, Shi'Kahr mostly saw traffic in form of scientists and government officials, diplomats and the occasional flock of offworld tourists.
Rebuilt after having been reduced to mostly rubble five years ago, the complex fused elements of the oasis-dweller culture of Shi'al with a modern, spacious layout, altogether making for a most aesthetically pleasing experience. Ceilings of tinted glass, reminiscent of great wings or tent roofs lifted in the breeze, lent a golden shimmer to seemingly random clusters of hardy desert plants and charming little fountains. Low couches generously strewn with dark red and ochre pillows invited the traveler to rest and appreciate their surroundings while they waited for their ships, or perhaps the delegation from Alpha Centauri.
This early in the day the numerous small cafés and restaurants were doing a brisk trade, as even local residents were attracted to the culinary variety offered here. A group of Deltans and a – how fascinating – Pak'shree were examining the small souvenir shop nestled among li'pon trees, debating the merits of sha'amii cashmere versus yel-dara highland silk scarves.
No, it was by no means an unpleasant assignment but somehow Tavek could not see the logic in sending a highly qualified linguist and communications specialist to stroll around a spaceport when he could be in an office, poring over interesting reports.
Kaiidth. Offering a courteous half-bow to a group of council members and their V'Ket escorts making for the northern gate, Tavek noted the puzzled glances of the Deltan scientists and the mildly amused clicking of the Pak'shree's voder. Obviously the concept of Vulcans outfitted with not only sleek, efficient sidearms but deadly-looking swords slung across their backs was yet a difficult concept to grasp for many outworlders. And how not, the V'Ket had for centuries gone to great lengths to remain the silent Guardians in the background.
Until the troubles and upheavals of the past years the f'rel-barr had prevailed in her assertion that Vulcan need be a force of peace and reason, not another spark to tinder; but with the Federation unraveling at the seams the Council had overruled High Command. Thus the Guardians warding every council member traveling off world, and every delegation of scientists and healers who requested them. All but the diplomats, unless at their explicit insistence. This was the line the f'rel-barr had drawn.
Tavek found it no small irony that the person to most strongly protest the show of Vulcan force in form of their ancient elite warriors was none other than the High Commander of said force.
Another shimmer of terracotta and gold caught his eye, half hidden behind the flowing robes of a stately lady and her gaggle of aides. V'Les herself, apparently returned early from London, and to the V'Shar agent's sharp eyes, in a dreadful mood. Not that it was obvious in aught but her stern visage and the long-legged stride that had her aides nearly scramble in a most undignified way, the only center of calm being the diminutive V'Ket stuck to the councilwoman's side like a burr of polished copper.
In the middle of sketching a courteous bow for the esteemed lady, Tavek got a good look at the small Guardian and had he been anything but a Vulcan, he might have cursed softly under his breath. It wasn't merely the stunning figure outlined in excruciating detail by the form-fitting uniform, the liquid black eyes that seemed to shine with untold secrets and the generous mouth, though those for a certainty were enough to give him pause. It was the air of a Vulcan so powerfully certain of herself she seemed vibrant with silent energy, a glow that owed nothing to the sunlight filtering through the high glass roof.
He stared until they had passed through the eastern exit, elegant robes and glimmer of terracotta swallowed by Nevasa's blinding glare.
Perhaps not an ideal career choice indeed. Still, it would be interesting to find out what matter had sparked the ever simmering contention between V'Les and the Federation President to come to such a point that the lady would return ready to breathe fire at the unsuspecting planetary council.
~~~
"My gratitude, Subcommander. I trust you will be available for my return journey to Earth?" V'Les stopped abruptly under the towering fek-kastik, ignoring the bewildered aides parting like a flock of birds in their attempt to avoid a collision while not seeming to do so, as she turned to fix the small V'Ket with a long look out of grey-green eyes.
"I shall be honored, madam."
"Your service honours us." In all truth, V'Les would just as soon do away with this illogical notion that she needed a V'Ket minder every time she set foot off the hearthworld, but this one at least had a level head on her shoulders and the good grace to not fret over every change in schedule.
She was simply there, a gleaming terracotta shadow, exuding serene reassurance or quiet menace seemingly at will. Betimes you could almost forget she was there. At least until young Selik fumbled another data device, or stared soulfully at the slender neck emerging from the high collared tunic or the abundant mass of velvety black hair caught in tightly coiled braids, whenever the Subcommander turned her back to him. Alas, the little V'Ket did not show any of the open, logical interest an unbounded one would towards an eligible male and so the councilwoman was resigned to fumbled FTV's for the foreseeable future. It was preferable to having to deal with a less agreeable – and skilled – Guardian.
She offered a brief ta'al in parting and noted that as usual, the little V'Ket opted for the three-breaths worth of bow accorded an Eldest Mother rather than return the traditional gesture of non-aggression. Logical, of course, since showing your empty hand meant little when you were a V'Ket who could amend this status within 0.5 seconds. 0.3 in case of the Subcommander, if V'Les was any judge. But also as usual, young Selik watched the petite woman bowing with fluid grace for just a second too long and subsequently forced the driver of the flitter come to collect them to swerve in a mildly undignified way.
Blatantly oblivious, the V'Ket turned on her heel and made for the transporter hub.
~~~
Sakarra could have chosen to link up with the small transporter platform at the house rather than materialize on the shrub-dotted hill where a sha'amii goat path led down towards the old trade road, but after more than two tendays off world she felt she was due this small indulgence.
Lungs filled deeply with the fragrant mid-morning air, muscles settled more comfortably against bone, chilled skin soaked up the rising heat and brightness. The glare of Nevasa's rays reflecting off the Thanar Sea's still surface briefly prompted a reaction from the Vulcan's inner eyelids as her calm gaze swept her surroundings. Batches of dun-yar grass rustled quietly in the fitful breeze and a small lizard eyed the sudden apparition of a biped from its perch inside a nunutu shrub.
Home.
With no other Vulcan within miles who might have seen and commented upon it, Sakarra breathed deeply and stretched like a content kitten.
It was early in the season yet, but the wild yon-savas were ripening on the sturdy, squat trees and infused the air with their spicy odour. The Vulcan idly toyed with the tarnished brass and rust-colored leaves, rubbing one between her fingers until the resinous, slightly fruity fragrance clung to her skin. A mor'gril had passed through here no half-day ago, and Sakarra noted the direction of its tracks – what little was visible of them – while she leisurely followed the meandering path. It posed no imminent threat, being far too cunning to bother with an adult Vulcan and an armed one at that. Nor would it venture near the house, weary of such structures and the resident sehlat besides. Still, the creatures could be unpredictable and a measure of caution was only prudent.
Her lightfooted steps had taken her to the crest of another hill, this one crowned with windblown trees and thick underbrush clinging to the rocky soil. It was one of her favorite locations and the main reason for her brief stroll along Kir's rugged coast. Well, that and … as if she'd called their names, three figures emerged from the rocky canyon below and to her right. The taller with a heavy satchel and a sturdy lirpa slung across his shoulders; the small, lively one crowned with a riot of dark curls, tugging at her brother's sleeves to urge him onward, while a giant ball of fur followed at a leisurely pace. Sakarra raised her arm in greeting and was answered by a joyous shriek as her daughter abandoned the attempt to pull Nveid across the loose scree of a dry riverbed and bounded up the hill in a flurry of skirts and wild black hair.
~to be continued ...~
Subcommander Sakarra
V'Ket
Councillor V'Les
Vulcan representative to the Federation Council
&
various pointy ears
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Kaiidth – What is, is. Like so many things when it comes to the green blooded space elves, context is everything. In the given one: the Vulcan 'c'est la vie'
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