Keibren Denshar - Between Ages and Across Time, Part l
Doz Finch
((Cockpit, Undercover Shuttlecraft 2, New Cyndriel — Time Index: Early 2367))
“In the palm of your hand, life is everlasting.”
His auntie Colanna used to say that. In the dimming hours of the day, over his favourite evening tea, agahro; as a child he used to stare into its misty golden liquid until it went cold, seeing his reflection ripple with the drops of a precarious hovering spoonful, imagining all of the good and wonderful things people were capable of…and the bad.
Colanna was like that, always telling him inspiring stories and anecdotes about the small ways a person could change the world. The simple act of helping one of the community's elders cross the street, the impact of a compliment to a person who genuinely needed it most…anything that came from the heart. The tea itself, agahro, was a key part because it had existed ever since the Egan invasion all those hundreds of years ago, unifying the people, steeped in history ever since.
Finch: Drink up, love. You’ll feel ten times better. ::She lifted her cup to her lips.:: Then I'd like to talk.
This older woman, the one seemingly leading the Starfleet team sent after him, she’d first pottered around in the shuttlecraft when they had transported there, putting in safeguards, erecting a forcefield between the helm and the rear area he was sitting in. He wasn’t going to do anything. He had nothing to defend himself with anymore, anyway…but he understood her caution. It was protocol.
She returned from a tiny replicator with two cups and handed one to him, then had made herself comfortable on the opposite side of the inner hull, readying to take her sip of whatever the beige liquid was. He looked down at it, lost briefly in the swirling vapour and its slightly malty aroma, and then looked back up at her through pensive indigo eyes.
Finch: It’s tea. Has a bit of sugar in it and a dollop of milk, nothing to fear.
Denshar: I’m not afraid of a drink.
Finch: Good! ::She smiled.:: Then get it down your gob.
It was odd but he did. He felt compelled to. There was something about the way she spoke, the cadence in her voice, the way she slinged words together in a way that shouldn’t make sense but somehow did. And he was pleasantly surprised by the taste…it was just like agahro, except sweeter.
Finch: Now you’ll have to tell me. ::She swallowed a gulp from her own cup.:: Why New Cyndriel? Why the Festival of Yelvala?
Denshar: ::He paused, considering what to say.:: It wasn’t my idea.
Finch: Mm. I thought not. ::She also paused, eyes narrowed as if thinking.:: I suppose he put you there, did he?
Keibren simply licked his lips, and chose not to say anything. It wasn’t relevant, but it was true. He had been put there by Commodore Johnson because he was trusted with a plan bigger than all of them. A mission so important that not even the vibrant curiosities of the Festival of Yelvala could distract him.
He had done his part. He had set the device up so that if the platform failed—and the Commodore was smart so he trusted it wouldn't—then just in case the backup signal would automatically get sent to the right people in the right places, to make sure that no matter what, that terrible event never happened.
Although…that woman’s colleagues. Finch’s team. The things they said down there…
Denshar: Your colleague…she said you had all seen things you wished you had never seen. In the future. ::His indigo eyes unblinking.:: What did she mean by that?
Finch: She was being kind, actually. Giving you what I think is the gentler version of the truth.
Denshar: The truth? The truth can only be that we save thousands of lives!
A bit of his tea slipped out the rim of the cup as the passion blazed through him for the first time; across the way, the older woman didn’t flinch but her bushy brows pressed together as her brown eyes bored into his with a look of pity.
Finch: Oh, love. ::She shook her head slowly.:: It’s just the opposite.
Keibren felt his hands tightening around his cup, and his cheeks growing hotter. He couldn’t accept it—Commodore Johnson had considered everything. Every variable. Every potential mishap or miscalculation. He was the smartest person he had ever met and served under. And most importantly, he was a deeply caring man.
His plan was going to work.
It had to.
Finch: We all saw things that will stay with us forever because of what happens here over the next few days. Horrible things.
Denshar: What horrible things?
She didn’t respond at first, the question hanging in the air. If it was true, if she really had been there...
Denshar: Do we still lose people? ::He frowned.:: How many? And how?
Finch: Billions. Lost to a terrible and endless Borg nightmare.
Denshar: No…
The plan was careful. Detailed. Meticulous. How could it have made things worse?
tbc
Keibren Denshar
An Accomplice Under Arrest
United Federation of Planets
Simmed by
Assistant Chief Engineer
USS Gorkon NCC-82293
C239809SH3