Just Get There! (P1)

Posted on Sun 26th May, 2024 @ 9:07pm by Izwyx 'Lo
Edited on on Sun 26th May, 2024 @ 9:08pm

1,654 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: O' the Cardiff Rose
Location: Romulan Colony world- T’olana
Timeline: MD 10

-Start-

“Captains Log- Stardate 2595.39… The Ticonderoga is on approach to T’olana, alliteration aside the work is good and our passengers are happy to be almost to their new home. Though anyone who has been here before has those happy desires reasonably adjusted to reality. Still, we ferry souls to a new frontier in the grand tradition of… I’m sorry but I cant be doing this every mission, you’re having me read some lofty rhetoric. And for who exactly? Is there someone you’re trying to impress? No, we’re done I’ll be doing future logs by text end the recording here-“

{Orbit- T’olana System}

T’olana sat on the fringes of the newly sanctioned zone for Romulan resettlement, deemed “habitable” nad still a part of Romulan controlled territory. The dustball had nothing to commend it by except the atmospheric domes and extensive tunnels carved underneath. The fact it was a populated world made it indelibly Romulan and this was the closest their people could do to maintain images of systems and a depth to Empire. A conquest by assuming control via feet on the ground, where the feet could e dropped off in number due to the teeming hordes of refugees after their loss of home worlds.

The Federation said it was fortunate the Horta bred in large number and only ate rocks, the tunnels were practically dug in a week. These tunnels left behind were now the homes for nearly five thousand settlers. The Federation did as much as they could to help, but ultimately the people of this world were helpless without constant resupply which was not a sure thing every month. Without external support the barren world would not be able to sustain itself. The infrastructure to maintain life there was coming soon, but a frontier wilderness had best take what it can get.

On the ledge of their single above ground bunker, Roak stood in vigil watching the sky. His eyes were sharp and as good at orbital detection as the sensors on constant vigil. As administrator to the colony, he had made plenty of hard decisions, had stared at the skies above for ships on approach many timed begin for relief to arrive. Tonight had become the worst by far, but soon fifteen hundred more Romulans would arrive at his doorstep. The decision was whether to let them, and the choice wasn’t hard, it wasn’t even a choice. They’d all drown. The resupply missions weren’t enough, the planet was hostile. Maybe some computer suggested there was a chance for viability but at present they couldn’t eat the fruits of the toxic soil yet.

He watched for the streaks of light to announce their arrival, knowing it was only theater.

The innermost genuine part of this traitors brain drilled guilt into every thought. Nobody would know. The poor souls would be taken and they would be spared the guilt of inevitable scarcity battles. He’d assume the martyrdom of their sin in silence, and nobody would know.

However, behind every thought was another.

“God will, and you’ll never be forgiven.”

***

{UFP Star Cradle Ticonderoga}

Yirika represented the T’olana delegation, fifteen hundred selected from their onboard refugees dispatched from D’ontara which was still placing millions all over the sector. As the Ticonderoga was on approach to T’olana she rallied the group in the Central sphere of the vast Star Cradle, dedicated to all of the Romulans on board. Throughout the vast ship people tuned in, as Yirika read the names. The Ticonderoga had been traveling at warp two, claiming the engine efficiency was perfect for their long voyage but really it was to fatten the settlers up.

Endless replicator rations, anything they needed, any provisions they requested were given, feasts and training seminars scheduled for everyone, holodecks with a simulated night on T’olana was a popular choice surprisingly for the pragmatic people. A simple freighter, loaded with energy cells, compressed goods, hab modules, even orbital devices for weather tracking and threat detection was being stocked to the gills by the eager crew of the Federation supply vessel.

The Romulans on board were friends, even the notoriously xenophobic Romulans couldn’t help but fall in love with people throwing as much stuff as they could at them to help. There were a few tears as names were announced, and the volunteers numbered to one thousand five hundred and two. A murmur of confusion lead to the conclusion of the speech.

Yirika genuinely smiled, her radiance a side effect of her pregnancy. She would likely have the third child born on this new world. Her imagination and ambition to build a new home, link to new modules, create a city, a port, convert the atmosphere, drove her to assume a leadership role. Nobody was surprised but her how well it suited her. Ambitions and dreams were necessary to stay hopeful so sometimes it was okay for your thoughts to race a million miles ahead.

“We have two extra volunteers from our Starfleet fellows yes… Lieutenant Kreypa will be joining us to fly the Allegheny and it supply content to the T’olana settlement and aid in their development. Ensign Rsod… I would like to welcome you to the Romulan people, as the newly wed couple have made their union official. We will be having a grand ceremony prior to our departure tomorrow, so please give them the joy of your laughter and tears. Nola True.”

In proper benediction the crowd chanted back, “Jolan True.”

-Two hours Later-

Izzy was stuck in indecision. Yirika had never lost a single game of their card bouts. No matter the game, Izzy came up just short of winning, which proved her opponent was able to keep it competitive at a whim. Now, she had a play which would get her a suite of cards to win the game, and she found herself asking if Yirika allowed this to happen, or if she had really beaten her friend for the first time. A captain knows how to shake third options loose from reality so she cleverly decided a path of action.

“Tell me if you know this joke… A moth flies into a podiatrists office-“ Izzy was interrupted.

“A moth?” Yirika asked in innocence, despite the translation coming through perfectly.

Izzy missed the social cues of a joke and explained, “Small winged insects, drawn to light and flame, fly at night, beat on the windows…” She then understood Yirika was teasing and stopped talking. The tell was there, Yirika didnt have good cards. She wouldn’t call a large bet, and a large pot like this would seal the Captains victory.

Her instincts screamed it was a trap but Captain Izwyx confidently played a pair of cards, one designed to make the board neutral for her other card, the almighty match card. A match card required an exact counterpart, a seven could only be matched by another seven. So with two plays, Izzy fired off a final volley in there contest.

“Match. Nine.” Izzy was so sure of herself that the nine card that came next didn’t register in her eyes at all. After a full breath she realized what had happened.

“Matched, pick em up.”

“You trapped me, but how in the hell did you match a random card. How in the hell did you know I would call nines?”

Yirika chuckled, “I’ve been subliminally advertising Nine cards and flourishing them, and making sure you saw me play them all, and then I picked one up without you noticing, so sure as you were nines were played out…”

Izzy hated it, but she had totally missed one of the discarded noises being put back into play. It was a good trap, well played, on an unsuspecting gullible opponent.

“Yirika I will miss our games.” She pushed her cards into the table, along with the small amount of money involved for the fun of betting. Yirika took it all, eager for trinkets, and Izzy added, “I made sure the Allegheny has long range transceivers for your Hab-dome so we can communicate effectively.”

The game was over so the two women relaxed in their chairs, snacking on the fruit tray between them. “I cant believe you’re letting us use a runabout for so long.”

Izzy waved it off, “We will have to come get it eventually but you know how things are it could be a while so yall just make do.”

Yirika felt fortunate to have met Izwyx, and was in general plain enamored with the Federation. This ship had housed them by the thousands, repaired their derelicts, given hope where dreariness had taken hold. She was being sent with enough supplies to provide an abundance to T’olana for the first time in their history. The replicators in the Allegheny alone would enable food deprivations to end.

She felt a small tear of joy beading in the corner of her eye, Izzy changed the subject to give her emotional space.

“The feast tomorrow, there’s rumor of fermented Gaspa and shrimp. I started them, because I’m making it.”

Yirika went bug eyed, the delicate meal was a Romulan mainstay and notoriously easy to get wrong. Izzy had tried once in their past and the cabbage smell still persisted in her quarters.

She continued, “I want to freeze and compress it before you go.”

Yirika was touched, no replicator would ever make it taste right, if Izzy was able to do as she said it would mean her people on T’olana could have sliver of home cooking when times were tough. The candles in her quarters and the memories of their last few weeks together culminated in a kiss. Short and sweet, but totally expected. They embraced for their final night together, words having had their time.

-TBC-

 

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