Brunescent

Posted on Mon 20th Jan, 2020 @ 3:16am by Lieutenant JG Kellian Michaels & Makila i'Hartelhai
Edited on on Sun 14th Jun, 2020 @ 7:28pm

2,806 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: Brown Sector, Deck 2245
Timeline: MD-07, 1400 hours

It hadn't occurred at all to Kellian Michaels that he should check what sort of clothing was commonly worn in Brown Sector before arriving there. He was used to living and working among a wide variety of people from hundreds of different worlds, each with their own slightly different style of dress. Now that he had arrived, he was painfully aware of how much he stood out. Brown Sector was named that for a reason; the people living there tended to prefer that color and clothing styles that looked nothing like what he usually wore. Why all the brown, Kellian couldn't figure.

So his clothing was all wrong. He'd put on a blue and black plaid shirt with black slacks. Among the sea of brown and gray, he was as noticeable as a blooming rose in winter. Add to that, his regulation haircut was a dead giveaway that he wasn't from these decks.

Everything in him screamed that he should get away, get behind cover. Kellian gritted his teeth to stifle the urge and kept on walking forward. He'd been told there was a small market on this deck that sold handmade items. and he wanted to see what sort of sculpture they had, to send something to his friend Rafe for his birthday.

A teenage boy approached him with a rag and toolkit in hand. "Shine your shoes, Mister?"

Whoever heard of shining shoes, Kellian wondered? If your boots needed a polish, you put them in the recycling unit, which would dematerialize them. Then you ordered a new pair from the replicator, and, voila, new, beautifully-polished boots. All you had to do was break them in--and if you were a good enough programmer to scan the insides of your old boots first, and program the replicator to match the boot interiors to the scan, you could get a pair of boots that was polished and broken in. Even better, by recycling the raw material, you avoided having to pay the cost of that and only had to pay for the energy needed to fuel the replicator.

"Ah, thanks, but I don't need one," Kellian began.

"Of course you do!" the boy said. "These are so scuffed, I don't see how your CO allows you to wear them."

Pegged as Fleet, already, Kellian thought. "These are my off-duty boots. I don't want them to look spiffy or polished. They're fine, just as they are."

"I know someone who can make you a new pair," the kid said. "There's a Tarodian fellow who makes shoes out of recycled plastic--"

"Tell you what, there's two slips of latinum in it for you if you'll show me around the market for half an hour," Kellian said.

"Two? That's an insult. Five," the kid said. "And you will need more than half an hour to see the market."

"I shop like a guy," Kellian informed him. "And I could just walk it by myself. Three."

"You're Fleet. You would be robbed blind in half an eye-blink. Four, and it's a deal."

"Deal," Kellian replied. He handed the boy the latinum and shook on it. "What's your name? Mine's Kel."

The boy bowed slightly, and his expression became more reserved. "I am Mozatholm Zaldekulmu."

Kellian blinked and resisted the urge to say, "I'm terribly sorry." He was treading on the minefield that was Federation etiquette now. People with long, tongue-twisty names usually came from cultures that took great pride in them. To give a stranger one's long, full name was an indication of trust and the intention to deal honorably.

Well, Kellian thought, if I was going to worry about identifying myself, I should never have come down here. "My apologies," he said with a return bow. "My full name is Kellian Michaels."

Mozatholm's expression became friendlier, now that Kellian had given his correct name. "Oh, you have the same given name as the Romulan doctor," Mozatholm said.

"Is there a group of Romulans living here?"

"A few, but he isn't one of them; he doesn't live down here. His daughter is very pretty."

Kellian had no idea what this kid might consider pretty and had no desire to find out. "Maybe you can introduce me to the Romulan doctor while I'm here. In the meantime, where's the market?"

* * *

The light from the sun in glory cast a red and gold gleam into the corridor just outside of the market. They'd used market day on purpose, so as to draw people to them that wouldn't normally come to see a healer. That part had also been Makila's idea, as she had been out to explore the station with much more interest and fervor than her father.

While her father was busy with the last patient that was in the waiting area, Makila tucked a handful of flyers into her bag. Smoothing her robes she wandered out into the market, avidly soaking in the life here. She posted a flyer on each public notice board that she passed, so that more people might come to the next clinic day. Sharp ears could hear the coughing, and the muffled sounds of illness being hidden.

The market on Deck 2445 looked more like a Middle Eastern bazaar than anything else, Kellian thought as he let Mozatholm show him through it. It was a crazy hodge-podge of part farmers' market, part flea market, and part craft fair, all housed in little shops that could be neatly closed at night and locked behind doors. He couldn't imagine himself shopping there often, unless he wanted unusual fresh produce or handmade craft items.

It only took about 20 minutes for Kellian to find the birthday gift. It was two carved wooden cats who were clearly pissed off at each other, as their tails were straight up in the air and puffed out. "Rafe will love these," Kellian said and bought the pair. A little farther down in the market, they came across another woodcarver's stall, where finely detailed animal carvings were on sale. Kellian pretended indifference, but he couldn't buy the carved retriever puppy fast enough.

"All right, that's everything for me, this trip," Kellian said. "Thanks for your help, Mozatholm. I hope I see you again, the next time I come down here."

"You plan to come down here again? Most Fleet people, they come down maybe once, and you never see them after that."

"It shouldn't be that way," Kellian said. "You can come visit the upper part of the base, too, you know."

"Why would I? I couldn't afford anything up there, anyway, and I don't take free."

Good for you, kid, Kellian thought. "Because it's there to be seen. And sometimes, people give freely to all who come in, so it's not charity. If you want good tea, go see the lady at Signs of the Prophets."

Mozatholm gave him a doubtful look. "Maybe. I'll see you around, Kellian--if you come back." He turned to go and then paused. "Oh, hey, there's the doctor's daughter I told you about--the pretty one?"

Kellian glanced in the direction where Mozatholm was looking and saw a young woman with a headful of curly, dark hair, dressed in Romulan-style robes. She was pinning a flyer to a bulletin board. "Is that a hint that I should introduce myself?"

Mozatholm grinned. "Couldn't hurt. You could even pretend to cough, or something."

"Don't push it, buddy," Kellian said with an amused look and went over to the bulletin board to see what the flyer was.

The flyer was information about the next couple of days the free medical clinic would be open. It held the holonumber of Dr. office and the best way to contact him in an emergency. His actual office location, and in the background was the same stained glass panel that shone when he was down here taking care of patients. It was instantly recognizable as his clinic.

Makila noted the interest and the amused and slightly lascivious thought, and cast a glance over at the boy who was gazing intently at her. While not sure if he was staring for any reason other than her dress, she bowed slightly to him.

Kellian read over the flyer. "Hm. Good idea," he said aloud. He glanced at the young Romulan woman. "The kid back there tells me you're the doctor's daughter. How do you pronounce his last name?"

"s'Siedhri" she spoke the syllables slowly so he could follow them "though plainly addressing him as Doctor is more than sufficient."

"s'Siedhri," Kellian repeated. "I'm Kellian Michaels. It's good to meet you, Miss s'Siedhri."

She grinned "My surname is i'Hartelhai. But please call me Makila."

That was odd. Maybe Romulans named daughters after their mothers. Kellian went with it. "It's good to meet you, Makila. I'm glad you and your father are working down here."

"As am I. Good health benefits us all." Makila smiled openly at his confusion, but not yet wanting to out her telepathic abilities she bowed slightly to him. "It has been quite a time since these people have been aided in any way. I am surprised Starfleet allows such things to flourish."

"Is your father the only doctor who's been down here?" Kellian asked. "There's no Starfleet clinic?"

"Years ago there was, it was apparently a token presence with a fleet Doctor that couldn't see past the poverty to actually address the problems here. They didn't last long, people here don't take kindly to being pitied or patronized. "

"Who would?" Kellian agreed. "Still, I don't think Dr. Addams would treat them like that. Scare them, maybe, but she would at least respect them."

"Dr. Addams was never down here. A gentleman with spiky brown hair and an attitude of general disgust was here for them, needless to say they didn't come back when they were made unwelcome." Makila smirked softly at the way they'd told him they ran him off. It had been quite the humorous tale.

"Huh. Sounds like the kind of person Addams would run off, too. She has no patience with idiots," Kellian said. "I think I'll mention this place to her, the next time I see her--or sooner."

"I have only seen Dr. Addams in passing, so I will have to take your word for it." Makila laughed softly at his assurance that Dr. Addams would run off the idiot doctor. "Her presence might make our job more difficult, I would prefer it if she wants to speak to us about it to come to Father's office."

Kellian tried to imagine the elegant Dr. Addams in Brown Sector, and his mind boggled. "That might be a good idea," he said. "I'll pass along that suggestion. But she far outranks me, so she'll do whatever she decides is best. How long ago was that other doctor down here?"

"Her rank doesn't give her the right to destroy the fragile trust we're building here with these people. It was just about an earth year ago if my calculations are correct. I'd venture a guess that it might be longer than that as some of these children have never seen a doctor, or ever had a checkup or vaccinations." her voice turned sad for a moment as she thought about it.

"I'm glad you and your father are down here, at least," Kellian said. "Look, I work in Security. Is there any kind of help I can be to you? Do you both feel safe down here? I don't think an overt Fleet presence would be a good idea on these decks; I've been told that these people weren't helped adequately when Starfleet abandoned the base during the Dominion War, so they're not happy with interference from us now. But that doesn't mean we don't want to help."

Her dark eyes took him in for a long quiet moment. He did want to help, his offer of assistance was quite genuine. She raised her hand to her lips to think a moment. "Is there some sort of...portable emergency signal you could give us? If we need you we can send a message? I know we're not Starfleet to get one of your comm badges."

Kellian thought about it. It wasn't impossible for a civilian professional to just order a silent alarm system from a civilian security warehouse. But he didn't know what their finances were like, and if they were already donating their own supplies to this clinic, their funds might be stretched thin. "I'll speak to Chief Briggs about requisitioning one for you," Kellian said with a nod. "Would it be better if I bring it to you here or at your father's clinic in the River Village, Ma'am?"

"Stop by the clinic. If no one is there, my father's door is the first one and my door is the second on the garden side. Don't be afraid to walk around the clinic to the house." A smile lit her face, and transformed it to a beauty that hadn't been visible before.

She had a fantastic smile, Kellian thought. It was utterly genuine in a way he couldn't exactly describe, except to say it went all the way down to her toes. "Do you and your father only come here for market day?"

"This is the first time that we've been down. Market day was my idea for getting more people through but we'd been advertising for about a month before we actually came down. We'll set up regular clinic hours I'd say weekly with one of us or both of us. I can always come down on my own and only pull in father when I need him."

"If these people have been without medical care for as long as you say, I think weekly or more often would be a very good idea," Kellian said. "No vaccinations is just dangerous, and how in the world have they been giving birth? What do they do when people die?" Kellian paused. "You don't have to answer all that unless you know the answer. That was just me thinking aloud."

"A birth is actually how we got involved to begin with." she said softly remembering the young boy who had been sent topside to get a Romulan healer. "These women labor without care, and they and their babies suffer without need. As far as death is concerned...I don't know, but I have a speculation that they use the incinerators and don't bother to collect the remains. If they didn't, disease would run rampant here to a scale we would be unable to cope with."

"I can well imagine," Kellian said with a wry look. He paused. "Actually, I probably can't imagine." He shook his head. "So they've just been doing, what, old home remedies for their medical care? I mean, they probably have some people who know a thing or several, but as you indicated, that's no substitute for a trained doctor for truly serious problems."

"A great many cultures have wise old women that take care of people. These people are no exception. Gradually, we'll turn them to the wise old man of my father." Another of those smiles lit up her face and eyes. "And me eventually I'd say."

"Are you headed to medical school yourself?" Kellian asked.

"I am already studying, though my father is unaware at this time." Raising one hand she pressed a finger to her lips in a universal gesture for silence and secrecy.

"He won't hear about it from me," Kellian promised. "I think it's great that you want to study medicine."

"It's been my whole life, it's natural I absorbed quite a bit from Father." Her cheeks darkened with a flush of embarrassment in how she'd been raised.

"Early life does have a heavy influence on the sort of work we decide to go into," Kellian agreed.

"You are not wrong in that assessment." Makila smirked slightly as she looked through her eyelashes at the taller man.

I like her, Kellian thought. Inside his head, he could imagine his friend Rafe's voice: Don't just stand there like a mashed turnip, you git. Go for it!

"Would it be better for me to come by with the alarm system during your workday or after hours?" Kellian asked.

"After hours. I will need instruction as to how to use it, and you can't do that if I happen to be with a patient. Father is taking the late shift for the next few days, so I won't have any distractions."

"After hours it is, then," Kellian agreed. "I'll come by around 7 o'clock."

"I look forward to it."

 

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