LtCmdr Sky Blake, "The Rangers." (Part 2)
Deliera Jay
“Dinner” panned out to be edible items Pierce MacNamara had put together, of varying origins—most of which Blake couldn’t identify. She sat across from Caide, slowly picking through the green and orange things on her plate, while MacNamara quietly chewed away at what might have been a carrot. Blake’s emerald eyes flickered between Largew and MacNamara, to Caide, whose uniform was haphazardly thrown over his shoulders, present only as a formality—evidently, he’d cared about as much for Starfleet appearance as Blake did, preferring only the practical aspects of his kit, namely his tricorder and holster. His dark eyes were soft, long hair tied back in its tight bun so not to impede his eating. It was a far cry from Largew, who was just attacking her food with her hands, her hair barely held out of her face on the top of her head.
Honestly, Blake was just checking to see if anyone had noticed that she’d just spat out a gooey green mush into a napkin. Of the group here, she was the most alien. Caide seemed to have experience with humans—Blake had been limited to personal interactions, sexual encounters, professional encounters (the usual kinds of things), but food had never come into that equation before. How ironic that a Starfleet officer, who explored strange new worlds, had yet to experience the horrors of human cuisine.
Caide spoke in his crisp and formal accent, cutting into some vegetables with his cutlery.
Caide: How long has the settlement been operational?
Largew: About twelve months. We’ve expanded two more kilometres since moving in. We now have room for more livestock.
Caide:::with a slight frown:: Livestock? You farm your food?
MacNamara:::shaking his head:: Nah. We sheer ‘em.
oO Makes sense. Oo
The settlement was reliant on protein packs for now. Replicators hadn’t yet arrived—only one had, and it was making its way through building materials for more panels for the solar farm. It wasn’t fit for food. So far, no health disasters had occurred. Pierce and Largew knew what they were doing, and what kind of operation they intended to run. They just needed time to get it set up.
Largew: Wool’s a valuable commodity in the Shoals. Our first priority is getting our foot into that commercial sector—and with heating crises frequent on Karakka, this is the best way to do that. But we are planting sustainable crops.
Blake: The drought can’t be helping. This place is pretty dry.
It hurt that, despite those dark and looming clouds outside, not a single drop of rain had fallen onto Bupirninyirring. There was a science behind it, Sky was sure, and Bupirninyirring had a timetable when it rained next, but supposedly the overhead clouds would become considerably darker before they could expect rain. And when rain comes, they guaranteed it would flood the area.
Largew: We’re making do. The water reclamation devices that your Commander Core set up have been working at max capacity—when the weather fails us, we make our own rain.
A surge of pride rose in Blake’s chest, thinking back on Tristam Core’s short but sweet visit to the settlement to set up the communications tower (that had been part of Largew’s deal with Starfleet—if Bupirninyirring wanted Starfleet help, they had to house some Starfleet equipment). He hadn’t enjoyed the climate as much as Blake did, but he’d done more for the settlement than just impede on their land with the communications array that offered them no advantage in this climate.
And to think, Blake had stumbled upon him mocking up the reclamators design while he had his feet up, a stylus tapping his nose, while he waited for a loading bar to reach 100%.
Largew: While you’re here, I... need your help.
Blake sat up straighter at this, eyes narrowing.
Blake: What’s wrong?
Largew: While the reclamators have been working great, we’ve had to do an... unnecessary amount of tuning up to keep them working.
Blake could see Caide glancing to her in her peripheral vision. She tilted her head, trying to understand what Largew was saying.
Blake: Are they malfunctioning?
Largew: We’re not sure.
The response left Blake with more questions than it did answers.
Caide: I can take a look at them, if you’d like?
Largew: We’d appreciate that.
((Flashback: Kidman I, 239606.02))
Largew: Give us a hand, Starfleet?
It was a bright morning in Bupirninyirring. Largew was dragging a heavy water trough through dirt, akubra hat shading her eyes from the heat of the Kidman sun. Blake holstered her tricorder, quickly stepping over to Largew to pick up the other end of the water trough.
Blake: Mind telling me what this thing’s for? ::she huffed, lifting with her knees and trodding forward, following Largew’s lead.::
Largew: Repaired horse trough. Got cracked last week.
Blake: Nice to hear he’s still using his horses...
The first time Blake travelled to Bupirninyirring, she'd had to share close quarters with one of Pierce MacNamara’s Australian stock horses—between the horse, the land rover Starfleet had graciously given, and a smattering of equipment in the cargo-bay, the service shuttle Starfleet provided had been rather cramped. Blake had been fortunate enough to have been assigned quarters.
Pierce had decided he did not want quarters, and slept in a swag in the cargo-bay, nearby his horse.
As someone who was not a fan of large animals, Blake considered this to be an intriguing decision on a regular person's part, but thought little of it. She’d later find out that Pierce was about as fearful of space travel as Blake was large animals. It made sense.
They lowered the water trough down onto the earth below, their attention was drawn to settlement workers far off on the other side of the paddock. There stood Caide with MacNamara, conversing nearby a horse that was hitched up to a carriage.
Blake: You have carriages now?
Largew: Built it a few months ago. It’s Pierce’s new toy. Once he pulled together a functioning harness, he’s been using that horse and carriage more than he does the land rover.
Blake: Makes sense, I guess, if you’re hauling equipment around.
MacNamara was surprisingly animated—given he was typically stoic kind of person—as he waved his arms around. Caide was now stepping up onto the carriage, an anxiety settling in Blake’s chest.
She had to look away back to Largew and take a deeper breath.
Blake: So how long have you been ‘up-keeping’ the reclamators?
Largew: For the last month. Your demon-eyed friend said we wouldn’t have to do anything to them.
Blake: Core might be a maniacal person, but his work is top-standard. This sounds out of character for something he designed.
Largew: I’m under the same impression.
Blake’s eyes narrowed.
Blake: You think someone tampered with them?
Largew sighed, putting her hands on her hips.
Largew: I don’t know what I think yet. I can’t think of a reason someone would want to muck around with our water.
Blake:::crossing her arms:: I can think of a couple reasons. You guys are awfully close to the Tholian border. Has that ever come up in your general meetings?
Largew: Once or twice, but it’s never been a huge discussion.
Blake: Have you ever considered that some of your settlers might not feel so comfortable after Astrofori One’s destruction? The Tholians tried to push the line on this side—and they would have succeeded, under the right circumstances.
‘The right circumstances’ being an entirely different and real timeline of events that involved the Veritas and the Montreal being in the wrong places at the wrong time. Blake’s own son had come from his time about a century into the future to change things, to avoid the Tholian invasion of the Shoals. Conflict with the Tholians is inevitable, he’d said, but we can dictate just how bad it gets if we approach them correctly.
Evidently, encroaching on their space by repeatedly pushing the blurred boundary lines did not do wonders for the diplomatic relationship between the Tholian Assembly and the Federation. The Tholians retaliated to Federation presence in the Menthar Corridor, and an entire space station was destroyed. Everyone survived thanks to the efforts of two Starfleet vessels that had been assigned to Task Force 105, who held the Tholian fleet back long enough for a successful evacuation, but the fact remained. It’d been a brutal attack on a station of which had done little more than be a diplomatic outpost.
Largew: You’re dreaming, Blake. As if we’d get Tholians here on Kidman.
oO It’s exactly that kind of attitude that gets people killed. Oo
A commotion picked up behind them as colonists yelled out. Hooves began to gallop across the ground; there was the horse and carriage MacNamara and Caide had been standing nearby just moments before, racing across the hard land with a stream of dirt kicking up as it travelled from one end of the paddock to the other.
And there was MacNamara, one hand holding his hat as he bolted to catch it, but he wasn’t nearly fast enough.
Hanging off the side, shoulders dragging across the ground and only still attached because something had caught his leg, was Lieutenant Caide, struggling to reach back up to the carriage to unhook himself.
Beside her, Largew yelled to whoever could hear, launching into a run to the nearest fence.
Largew: Horse loose! Shut the gates—we’ve got a horse loose!
Blake: Horse loose!? ::chasing after her:: What about Caide!
Largew: We can’t do anything for him until we get a hold of that damn horse!
By the time Largew and Blake reached the gate, some settlers had already closed it—but it had been fruitless. The horse and carriage came to a sliding halt in the paddock’s corner, air heaving in and out of its large nostrils as MacNamara slowed from his run to a fast-paced walk, still a distance away. He was limping, trying not to put all his weight onto his right leg, but he was a man on a mission. "Unhitch ‘im!” he called to Largew as the women approached, and Largew undid clips that attached the front of the horse to the carriage, before quickly travelling back to the harness saddle to undo the carriage’s shaft, talking calmly to the animal—as if that would do any good.
Blake, with no experience with harnesses, instead moved immediately to help Caide on the right-hand side. It had caught his foot between a hand-rail and the seat he’d originally occupied—they freed his ankle, and he collapsed gracelessly to the ground with a pained groan. The ground he’d been dragged across had shredded his uniform despite its durability. Blake got him into an upright position, exposing grazed skin across his shoulders.
Blake: What the hell happened!?
Largew: Hey! You keep calm around this bloody horse.
Caide: Minor accident.
He pushed up out of Blake’s grip, stumbling into a stand. His face scrunched, and he wobbled on his feet.
Caide: We may have spooked him when we changed drivers.
Blake:::with a scoff:: "Minor accident".
Finally, MacNamara joined them as Largew pushed the carriage back from the horse. He ignored the two Starfleet officers, passing them by and pulling a lead from a tack box on the back of the vehicle. Within moments, he’d clipped it onto the horse’s halter.
MacNamara: What’s the damage?
Largew nodded to the carriage shaft, now pointed further inward and out of alignment.
Largew: You’ve got a shaft out, but otherwise it’s fine.
MacNamara: Good. Hitch him back up.
Blake: Wait, what!?”
But Largew ignored her as she went back through putting the carriage onto the harness, man-handling the shaft back into a semi-respectable position.
MacNamara: We don’t put this horse back onto that carriage, then it’ll fear it for the rest of its life. ::he snapped.:: Oi, spots—you getting on?”
Caide:::with a nod:: As soon as I catch my breath.
MacNamara: You’ve got until I get him back on.
Blake: You can’t be serious!
The Trill gave a shrug—half-hearted and pained, but a shrug.
Caide: As the saying goes, one must always get back into the saddle.
And as Caide got back up onto the carriage, she couldn't help but point out to herself that there was, in fact, no "saddle" for him to get back into.
Tbc . . .
LtCmdr Sky BlakeStarfleet Ranger
USS Veritas
C238803SB0