Oh my...that was a very low blow, for Georgia to call Rusty a coward for wanting to leave her. I It's especially unfortunate considering that he is not right for her and drawing this out longer will only make it worse. I don't want to say Georgia would be a "sister wife" exactly, but it would not be an emotionally exclusive relationship if she were to marry him. It already isn't and I think deep down she knows the truth. He also knows the truth and realizes he is unable to be faithful.
Interesting on Rusty's past--starting in school and then being "threatened" with home schooling...Alyosha started out the opposite, in home schooling and then transitioning to a regular school environment for high school and maybe some or all of middle school. It may well have been a parochial school as well, given that your story shows they still exist in the 24th century.
Christian Gaming Community Fleets--Faith, Fun, and Fellowship! See the website and PM for more. :-) Proudly F2P.Signature image by gulberat. Avatar image by balsavor.deviantart.com.
I feel it welling up inside
And Robert Smith lied
Boys do cry, and with
Blood tears in my eyes I'm an Anne Rice novel come to life
I can't hide the monster
Anymore
One can
Only feel desolate
For so long
Until
One starts to change
Into
Something the mirror doesn't recognize
I metamorphasize
The darkness has
Been biding its time
To claim its latest victim
Fresh meat for carnal desire
To become
What I became
I viewed the sun for the last time
Will you still hold me
When you see what I have done?
Will you still kiss me the same
When you taste my victim's blood?
So crimson and red
I feel it flowing from your lips (Crimson and red)
My heart is dead and so are you
And it pulses through
The desire
To change, to deconstruct
All of my
All of my past
Failings
But where to begin?
Because when you live in sin
It's hard to look at saints
Without them reflecting
Your jet black aura back on you
And all I have is hope
My inner burn's not fading
I'll wipe the blood
From my cheek
And get on with my day
Will you still hold me
When you see what I have done?
Will you still kiss me the same
When you taste my victim's blood?
So crimson and red
I feel it flowing from your lips
My heart is dead (Crimson and red)
And so are you
And all I have is hope
And all I need is time
To bury in pine under six feet of dirt
The lies I told me about myself
Claw my way out
Pick the splinters from under my fingernails
I won't lose hope
I won't give in
Just live and breathe
Try not to die again
Just live and breathe
Try not to die again
Just live and breathe
Try not to die again
I try not to die again!
Will you still hold me
When you see what I have done?
Will you still kiss me the same
When you taste my victim's blood?
So crimson and red
I feel it flowing from your lips (Crimson and red)
My heart is dead and so are you
Will you still hold me
When you see what I have done?
Will you still kiss me the same
When you taste my victim's blood?
So crimson and red
I feel it flowing from your lips (When you taste my victim's blood)
My heart is dead
And so are you
Rusty left the coffee shop in Ghirardelli Square with no clear idea of where he was going or what he was going to do. He found himself walking unhurriedly down Polk St., tucked into his hoodie, paying no attention to his surroundings.
The aborted conversation with Georgia replayed in his mind. The things he said, the things she said, the things he wanted to say but couldn’t, the last words she’d told him, the thing he should have said before leaving her alone…
He shook his head to clear it. He needed to think. Georgia had freed him from her distractions, at least for now. She’d said she’d give him the time and space he needed.
What do I do about her? He considered and rejected the easy way out - simply walking away and never going back to her. I am not a coward.
Forget her for now, he told himself. Find your sign.
He looked up. The first thing he saw was a sign for a bar. Wrong kind of sign. He kept walking, and soon realized there were an awful lot of bars on this street. Maybe a drink or two would help me clear my head…
You need to maintain control of yourself as well, he argued. You know what happens when you lose control.
Rusty knew. Three drinks - that was his limit. He didn’t dare have any more than that without Jesu by his side. But just enough alcohol to wash away all of the pain and fear and doubt that Georgia had stirred up…
He crossed Broadway and entered Shanghai Kelly’s. There were a bunch of people clustered around one end of the bar watching a baseball game on one of the HV monitors. Rusty took a stool at the other end.
“What’ll it be?” an attentive younger barkeeper wearing a 49ers jersey asked him.
“Bourbon, straight,” the Deinon rasped.
The young man didn’t blink at the alien voice. “What’s your label?”
“Um…” Rusty scanned the bottles on the rail for a brand he recognized. “Maker’s mark.” That was what his brother bought.
“Excellent choice. You want to open a tab?”
“Sure.” Rusty stared into the eyedee scanner until it beeped, then the bartender poured his drink.
USS Meridian, Khazan Cluster - 2412.08.05.0941
Against the backdrop of space, a lone starship sat in contemplation of the stellar phenomena before it. Built upon the bones of the long-proven Miranda-Class, the Meridian was a pathfinder project from the Advanced Starship Design Bureau. Nacelles from the ShiKahr-Class had been mated to the primary hull with pylons normally installed on the Centaur-Class. The result was a squat, low-slung swooping design, unintentionally evocative of the work of Romulan shipwrights, rather than Starfleet sensibilities. The aim of Project Meridian, was to explore if increasing the distance of the nacelles from the hull, could reduce the mid-range interference to the sensor arrays, which the emissions from the nacelles unavoidably caused.
“Sensor analysis now coming through,” Lieutenant T’Vrell reported. “A thousand particles of space dust per cubic meter, significant neutrino flux, and a class three comet.”
Commander Galatea moved to stand beside the svelte Vulcan to better consult the readings, “Fascinating,” the blonde android observed. “Reconfigure the lateral sensor array to provide a -”
“Commander,” the Bolian Lieutenant Nott interrupted from communications. “We’re receiving orders from Admiral Quinn. We’re to suspend our survey, and for you to report to him on Starbase One.”
As an android, Galatea was incapable of feeling frustration at a project being halted mid-analysis. Orders were orders, and orders from the Chief of Starfleet Operations demanded immediate compliance.
“Very well,” she acknowledged, before turning to the dark-haired Australian at the helm. “Lieutenant Moray, set course for Sol system, best speed.”
Lisele nodded as she input the coordinates, “Aye, Commander, course plotted and laid in, engaging at warp six.”
Somewhere between the moments...
The auditorium was cold. The house lights were up, and... "Hey, Rusty, wanna see a trick?"
Elizabeth Tran was crouched on the edge of the stage, her tuxedo-style Ringmaster’s costume was torn, stained in her blood.
"It's a good trick, you'll love it," she added, and took off her hat with a flourish. "It has a story that goes with it."
She reached into her hat. "Once upon a time, when we lived in the wilderness, there were two chieftains and a village between their bands. And they each envied the villagers, because they had enough to eat... one, was a chieftain of Birds, the other, a chieftain of serpents." she opened her hands and a rattlesnake slid out onto the stage... only it wasn't a rattlesnake, it was... furry? and the bird had too many wings that took flight from her other hand.
"The chieftain of birds approached the villagers, and promised to protect them from the chieftain of the Serpents and his band... and the villagers agreed, and the Bird-Chieftain led his followers into the sky, to seek out and strike at the Serpents."
A crowd of flapping wings filled the auditorium, and Rusty realized the floor was thick with snakes.
"So the Bird Chief waged war on the Serpents, and the Serpent, he was no idler, he turned his most powerful general into a villager with potent magics."
One of the larger snakes shifted into the image of a man. "The serpent king's agent in the village worked with the villagers, and gained the trust of the Birds. This took many, many years, until he could work things to make it easier for the Serpent king to send more followers in disguised as villagers."
Several other snakes changed form on the stage, and blended into the 'villagers'.
"Now, as the years wore on, and the Serpent and the Bird failed each to gain their true goal - the control of the village, the Bird king began changing some of HIS followers..." several birds became men. "Until, without anyone knowing, the agents of the Bird king, and the agents of the Serpent king - by now both were powerful enough to be 'kings' in the forest, began to discover that they had more in common with the villagers, than they did with their lords. Some found they had more in common with one another, than they did with the Villagers, their fellow agents, or the lords that sent them there., so now, there are four factions... but yes, we forgot the sorceror who changed the first serpents, and the first birds... but he has not forgotten the Serpents, the Birds, or the Villagers - and he wants all three to serve him."
The shadow that was the 'Sorceror' extended and reshaped into something... alien. "Because it was the Sorceror who set the Serpents and the Birds against one another, and showed each the hiding place of the village..." more shadows showed scenes Rusty could only barely understand.
"The sorceror has tricked the Kings, and on one grand occasion, after a minor victory by the Villagers that drove the ravens from their crop, and the serpents from their fields, he met with the faction of agents from both sides, and offered them a deal: they could rule the village, with his help, by betraying their old leaders," She clapped her hands. "The trick, Rusty, is to turn the first agent of the Serpents, the one that is still partly loyal to his lord, and partly loves the village, from a serpent in disguise, into a true member of the village."
She snapped her fingers, and Rusty caught a brief glimpse of Starbase One behind her. "Time to wake up."
Opening his eyes, Rusty found himself in the back of a cab. Reaching out, he rapped his knuckles against the screen between himself and the driver’s compartment, “Change of plan,” he announced. “Take me to the nearest public transporter station...”
Deck 47, Starbase One...
All cadets arriving from Starfleet Academy, must report to Admiral Quinn’s office on arrival… the station’s computer politely stated.
If they can just hang back for ten minutes, Rusty thought, as he made his way off the transporter platform and down the gentle incline. He could already hear the waterfall, smell the moisture on the air as he approached the glass arch.
At either side of the arch, stood a Vulcan and a Bajoran NCO, each in tactical red, who came to attention and snapped a salute at Rusty’s approach.
He was about to return the courtesy, when he saw a staffer step around from the curved corridor. Her head lowered as she tapped notes into her PADD, she would have passed Rusty had he not called out to her, "Excuse me-"
His voice made her jump, and her eyes went wide when she turned and saw him, but she relaxed when she saw his uniform. "Can I help you, Commander?" Lieutenant Linnea enquired
"I need to speak to Admiral Quinn," he began. "But this is my first time reporting to his new office-"
"Oh... It’s just around this hallway to the left, sir," she replied. "I’m Admiral Quinn’s executive assistant. If you’d like to come around, I’ll let the admiral know that you’re here."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Rusty walked, before following the willowy blonde.
* * *
“I hope I was able to facilitate your research, Counsellor,” Galatea said, as she and T’Reya materialized in the transporter chamber.
“Indeed you were, Commander,” the psychologist replied as they cleared the platform. “If you will excuse me, I have a meeting with a colleague in Club 47’s lounge to discuss a number of matters.”
“The opposite direction than my destination,” Galatea noted, before holding up her hand and effortlessly making the ta’al. “Farewell, Counsellor, live long and prosper.”
“And you, Commander,” T’Reya replied, returning the gesture, before turning and leaving.
* * *
"Commander LaRoca to see you sir,"
CommanderLaRoca? "Is he alone?" Was Quinn's first question.
"Yessir. Should I have him wait?"
The Undine calculated the probabilities. "No. Send him in, give us total privacy. On another matter, please contact Vice-Admiral Cartwright and have him report to me at his earliest convenience."
"Aye sir."
Quinn stood up as LaRoca Rusty walked into the office. He was in his fully erect humanoid posture, wearing his Starfleet duty uniform. Quinn's eyes were drawn to the junior officer's bare feet, and the fifteen-cm claws that he knew had ended the lives of many infiltrators, and he readied himself to use the Power.
"Hello, Admiral," LaRoca said as the office’s concealed doors slid closed behind him, and the windows of the office polarized. "Thank you for seeing me."
"My pleasure, Commander. What can I do for you?"
Rusty sniffed twice, scenting the stench of something bitter and foul, and slowly nodded, "Thought so," he said, more to himself than Quinn. "I know what you are, and I know what you're up to," Rusty told him, as he noted the positions of ships deployed through the Sirius sector block. "You want Moab, and there's nothing I can do to stop you from taking it."
The Admiral's eyes narrowed. There were things he'd wanted to say - arguments he wanted to make... but the time wasn't here, and the audience was the wrong LaRoca. But it would be so much easier if he changes his mind... "I’m surprised that you figured that out on your own, Commander," Quinn stated flatly. "It is a necessity. The people of Moab have been very cooperative in proving my case. They will tear themselves apart if Starfleet does not stop them."
"And I think, deep down, even my brother recognizes that," Rusty said. "But he can't take back his promises. You're hurting my brother -- that needs to stop."
Quinn smiled benevolently at the Deinon. "I already offered to save him -- He refused me..."
"He would never join you," Rusty acknowledged, regarding the Undine coolly. "Even if he had no choice. The war between your people and ours is over. You lost. Now you want to punish Moab, I get that. And like I said, there's nothing we can do to stop y- You wanted my brother and his task force to join you to legitimize your invasion force. If the champion of Moab was involved in your pacification effort, you would be able to sell both sides on its necessity!"
"I don't want to punish them, Rusty," Quinn said in a low but steady voice. "And our war is far from over." He reached out to tab a control on his desk, calling up an updated map/chart of the ground situation on Moab III on the huge display behind his desk. "I'll admit, there were moments when I wanted to take that stupid little world and blow it up. Blow it all right up. But... meddlesome as you are, I've developed something of an affection for you people. You are not weak. You would serve us well, with your strength. And these people, these Moabites, they are strongest of all."
He waved at the viewer, and Rusty automatically followed his motion, "But they're killing each other down there. I wanted to destabilize them, but it's all spun so far out of control. Part of the reason I'm sending this task force, why I wanted your brother and his forces, was to correct my mistakes, and to stop this disaster before it gets any worse." He came around his desk, stood in front of Rusty, and extended his hand.
Rusty stared at it a moment, then looked up at Quinn's eyes.
"Your brother has set us back at every turn," Quinn told him, withdrawing his hand and placing it behind his back. "I will enjoy imagining the torment he will suffer, as he sits on a beach, helpless, while I save his world from itself, using his ships." The Trill frowned. "I’m rather enjoying the implosion of your brother's career, but he really has brought it all upon himself. Help him, Rusty. I'd hate to lose such a worthy adversary as him, but if you continue to force my hand, if you continue to be obstacles to the Masters’ plans, then you, and your brother, will be removed…”
The threat, not to himself, but to Zoo, was all Rusty needed to hear, and he launched forwards, an explosion of violence. Ready to rip, to gouge, to rend, to allow the Hunter to tear the infiltrator limb from limb.
But his blow never landed.
Rusty felt a massive pressure, and found himself slamming into a series of shelves, redirected by the Power. The shelves collapsed under the impact, and brushing off the shards of glass and fragments of model starships, Rusty hauled himself upright, leapt forwards again.
On the very periphery of his vision, Quinn saw a notification from Linnea pop up on his monitor. Even as Rusty was mid-leap, he made the calculations, weighed the probabilities, and suppressed the instinct to lash out with the Power. In the instant before Rusty made contact with him, Quinn reached out, slamming a hand down on his desk’s control panel.
The privacy settings disengaged, and as Rusty’s claws sank into the admiral’s flesh, the windows of Quinn’s office depolarised.
* * *
Standing in conversation with Linnea and Philip Cray, Galatea had anticipated seeing the polarization of admiral Quinn’s office lower at the conclusion of his current meeting. What she had not have ever anticipated, was the sight of a Deinon in a Starfleet uniform attacking the admiral!
She reacted immediately and automatically, sprinting forwards and diving headfirst through the smart-glass into the office area.
As Galatea rolled, smoothly coming to her feet, Quinn screamed, “You have to help! He’s come here to kill me!”
Without an instant's hesitation, Galatea leapt forward, vaulting the desk and effortlessly hauling the would-be assassin off the flailing admiral. She efficiently snapped his neck with a deft twist of her inhumanly strong hands, and dropped the twitching corpse to the floor without a second thought.
Kneeling over Quinn, Galatea assessed his wounds, “Medical emergency!” She snapped at the crowd of slack-jawed gawkers who had gathered outside the office. “The admiral is injured!”
Pyramid Club, San Francisco...
“I’ve seen the way you represent our people to the Federation,” Ahd'r I’sH’d, the Regent of Pentaxia said. “I’m impressed with how you navigated this situation, and I know that the Empress -- that is, the True Empress -- would understand your decision to stand with LaRoca and his people on this matter. She chose you to participate in the officer exchange, because she knew that you would learn and gain from the experience, just as I did, and she knew you would help to spread awareness for our people.”
Across the table, wearing a formal black dress, H’mL’n smiled appreciatively, and with relief. She had felt that to wear her Starfleet uniform might be considered provocative, but also couldn’t bring herself to don the padded leather bodyglove which was the uniform of the Pentaxian Militia. “Thank you, Ahd'r Sh'N'rr,” she replied gratefully. “I… I just wanted to do the right thing by everyone.”
“And you did,” I’sH’d assured her. “With the deposition of the false-Empress V'sH'K'r, I need to work to restore our reputation among the interstellar community. I need people like you, H’mL’n, to work with me toward that goal. Everything you have learned, I want you to share with our people. Can you do that?”
“Of course, Ahd'r Sh'N'rr,” H’mL’n replied. “And afterwards, I can return to Starfleet? To continue to learn more?”
I’sH’d nodded, “Of course. Whatever you desire.”
“Do you need an answer immediately, Ahd'r Sh'N'rr” H’mL’n asked.
I’sH’d shook his head, “Take as long as you need, Commander. We have all the time in the world.”
Seacliff, San Francisco...
“Georgia…”
The voice was insistent, penetrating the haze of sleep, and pulling Georgia back to full awareness.
“Whus tha ‘mergency?” she grumbled, grinding her palm into her right eye-socket.
Spitz-Reader looked impossibly sad as he crouched down in front of the young Moabite. He opened his mouth, took a breath, before closing it again and sighing. He took another breath and tried again, “It’s Rusty…” he began. “There’s … been an accident…”
I entered the room
Sat by your bed all through the night
I watched your
Daily fight
I hardly knew
The pain
Was almost more than I could bear
And still I hear
Your last words to me
Heaven is a place nearby
So I won't be so far away
And if you try and look for me
Maybe you'll find me someday
Heaven is a place nearby
So there's no need to say goodbye
I wanna ask you not to cry
I'll always be by your side
You just faded away
You spread your wings you had flown
Away to something unknown
Wish I could bring you back
You're always on my mind
About to tear myself apart
You have your special place in my heart
Always
Heaven is a place nearby
So I won't be so far away
And if you try and look for me
Maybe you'll find me someday
Heaven is a place nearby
So there's no need to say goodbye
I wanna ask you not to cry
I'll always be by your side
And even when I go to sleep
I still can hear your voice
And those words
I never will forget
Heaven is a place nearby
So I won't be so far away
And if you try and look for me
Maybe you'll find me someday
Heaven is a place nearby
So there's no need to say goodbye
I wanna ask you not to cry
I'll always be by your side
Poster’s Note: The above was written from notes Sander had left for future work. With the decision to give his characters a last spin and a send-off, I felt that this was a fitting conclusion to Rusty’s path. May Liz Tran and the Old Deinon bring him peace.
Comments
Interesting on Rusty's past--starting in school and then being "threatened" with home schooling...Alyosha started out the opposite, in home schooling and then transitioning to a regular school environment for high school and maybe some or all of middle school. It may well have been a parochial school as well, given that your story shows they still exist in the 24th century.
Christian Gaming Community Fleets--Faith, Fun, and Fellowship! See the website and PM for more. :-)
Proudly F2P. Signature image by gulberat. Avatar image by balsavor.deviantart.com.
And Robert Smith lied
Boys do cry, and with
Blood tears in my eyes I'm an Anne Rice novel come to life
I can't hide the monster
Anymore
One can
Only feel desolate
For so long
Until
One starts to change
Into
Something the mirror doesn't recognize
I metamorphasize
The darkness has
Been biding its time
To claim its latest victim
Fresh meat for carnal desire
To become
What I became
I viewed the sun for the last time
Will you still hold me
When you see what I have done?
Will you still kiss me the same
When you taste my victim's blood?
So crimson and red
I feel it flowing from your lips
(Crimson and red)
My heart is dead and so are you
And it pulses through
The desire
To change, to deconstruct
All of my
All of my past
Failings
But where to begin?
Because when you live in sin
It's hard to look at saints
Without them reflecting
Your jet black aura back on you
And all I have is hope
My inner burn's not fading
I'll wipe the blood
From my cheek
And get on with my day
Will you still hold me
When you see what I have done?
Will you still kiss me the same
When you taste my victim's blood?
So crimson and red
I feel it flowing from your lips
My heart is dead (Crimson and red)
And so are you
And all I have is hope
And all I need is time
To bury in pine under six feet of dirt
The lies I told me about myself
Claw my way out
Pick the splinters from under my fingernails
I won't lose hope
I won't give in
Just live and breathe
Try not to die again
Just live and breathe
Try not to die again
Just live and breathe
Try not to die again
I try not to die again!
Will you still hold me
When you see what I have done?
Will you still kiss me the same
When you taste my victim's blood?
So crimson and red
I feel it flowing from your lips
(Crimson and red)
My heart is dead and so are you
Will you still hold me
When you see what I have done?
Will you still kiss me the same
When you taste my victim's blood?
So crimson and red
I feel it flowing from your lips
(When you taste my victim's blood)
My heart is dead
And so are you
Daniel Jacobs, Travis Miguel, Brandon Saller and Ektor Varkatzas of Atreyu - The Crimson
W E . C A R R Y . N O . A R M S
Polk St., San Francisco - 2412.08.04.2223
Rusty left the coffee shop in Ghirardelli Square with no clear idea of where he was going or what he was going to do. He found himself walking unhurriedly down Polk St., tucked into his hoodie, paying no attention to his surroundings.
The aborted conversation with Georgia replayed in his mind. The things he said, the things she said, the things he wanted to say but couldn’t, the last words she’d told him, the thing he should have said before leaving her alone…
He shook his head to clear it. He needed to think. Georgia had freed him from her distractions, at least for now. She’d said she’d give him the time and space he needed.
What do I do about her? He considered and rejected the easy way out - simply walking away and never going back to her. I am not a coward.
Forget her for now, he told himself. Find your sign.
He looked up. The first thing he saw was a sign for a bar. Wrong kind of sign. He kept walking, and soon realized there were an awful lot of bars on this street. Maybe a drink or two would help me clear my head…
You need to maintain control of yourself as well, he argued. You know what happens when you lose control.
Rusty knew. Three drinks - that was his limit. He didn’t dare have any more than that without Jesu by his side. But just enough alcohol to wash away all of the pain and fear and doubt that Georgia had stirred up…
He crossed Broadway and entered Shanghai Kelly’s. There were a bunch of people clustered around one end of the bar watching a baseball game on one of the HV monitors. Rusty took a stool at the other end.
“What’ll it be?” an attentive younger barkeeper wearing a 49ers jersey asked him.
“Bourbon, straight,” the Deinon rasped.
The young man didn’t blink at the alien voice. “What’s your label?”
“Um…” Rusty scanned the bottles on the rail for a brand he recognized. “Maker’s mark.” That was what his brother bought.
“Excellent choice. You want to open a tab?”
“Sure.” Rusty stared into the eyedee scanner until it beeped, then the bartender poured his drink.
USS Meridian, Khazan Cluster - 2412.08.05.0941
Against the backdrop of space, a lone starship sat in contemplation of the stellar phenomena before it. Built upon the bones of the long-proven Miranda-Class, the Meridian was a pathfinder project from the Advanced Starship Design Bureau. Nacelles from the ShiKahr-Class had been mated to the primary hull with pylons normally installed on the Centaur-Class. The result was a squat, low-slung swooping design, unintentionally evocative of the work of Romulan shipwrights, rather than Starfleet sensibilities. The aim of Project Meridian, was to explore if increasing the distance of the nacelles from the hull, could reduce the mid-range interference to the sensor arrays, which the emissions from the nacelles unavoidably caused.
“Sensor analysis now coming through,” Lieutenant T’Vrell reported. “A thousand particles of space dust per cubic meter, significant neutrino flux, and a class three comet.”
Commander Galatea moved to stand beside the svelte Vulcan to better consult the readings, “Fascinating,” the blonde android observed. “Reconfigure the lateral sensor array to provide a -”
“Commander,” the Bolian Lieutenant Nott interrupted from communications. “We’re receiving orders from Admiral Quinn. We’re to suspend our survey, and for you to report to him on Starbase One.”
As an android, Galatea was incapable of feeling frustration at a project being halted mid-analysis. Orders were orders, and orders from the Chief of Starfleet Operations demanded immediate compliance.
“Very well,” she acknowledged, before turning to the dark-haired Australian at the helm. “Lieutenant Moray, set course for Sol system, best speed.”
Lisele nodded as she input the coordinates, “Aye, Commander, course plotted and laid in, engaging at warp six.”
Somewhere between the moments...
The auditorium was cold. The house lights were up, and... "Hey, Rusty, wanna see a trick?"
Elizabeth Tran was crouched on the edge of the stage, her tuxedo-style Ringmaster’s costume was torn, stained in her blood.
"It's a good trick, you'll love it," she added, and took off her hat with a flourish. "It has a story that goes with it."
She reached into her hat. "Once upon a time, when we lived in the wilderness, there were two chieftains and a village between their bands. And they each envied the villagers, because they had enough to eat... one, was a chieftain of Birds, the other, a chieftain of serpents." she opened her hands and a rattlesnake slid out onto the stage... only it wasn't a rattlesnake, it was... furry? and the bird had too many wings that took flight from her other hand.
"The chieftain of birds approached the villagers, and promised to protect them from the chieftain of the Serpents and his band... and the villagers agreed, and the Bird-Chieftain led his followers into the sky, to seek out and strike at the Serpents."
A crowd of flapping wings filled the auditorium, and Rusty realized the floor was thick with snakes.
"So the Bird Chief waged war on the Serpents, and the Serpent, he was no idler, he turned his most powerful general into a villager with potent magics."
One of the larger snakes shifted into the image of a man. "The serpent king's agent in the village worked with the villagers, and gained the trust of the Birds. This took many, many years, until he could work things to make it easier for the Serpent king to send more followers in disguised as villagers."
Several other snakes changed form on the stage, and blended into the 'villagers'.
"Now, as the years wore on, and the Serpent and the Bird failed each to gain their true goal - the control of the village, the Bird king began changing some of HIS followers..." several birds became men. "Until, without anyone knowing, the agents of the Bird king, and the agents of the Serpent king - by now both were powerful enough to be 'kings' in the forest, began to discover that they had more in common with the villagers, than they did with their lords. Some found they had more in common with one another, than they did with the Villagers, their fellow agents, or the lords that sent them there., so now, there are four factions... but yes, we forgot the sorceror who changed the first serpents, and the first birds... but he has not forgotten the Serpents, the Birds, or the Villagers - and he wants all three to serve him."
The shadow that was the 'Sorceror' extended and reshaped into something... alien. "Because it was the Sorceror who set the Serpents and the Birds against one another, and showed each the hiding place of the village..." more shadows showed scenes Rusty could only barely understand.
"The sorceror has tricked the Kings, and on one grand occasion, after a minor victory by the Villagers that drove the ravens from their crop, and the serpents from their fields, he met with the faction of agents from both sides, and offered them a deal: they could rule the village, with his help, by betraying their old leaders," She clapped her hands. "The trick, Rusty, is to turn the first agent of the Serpents, the one that is still partly loyal to his lord, and partly loves the village, from a serpent in disguise, into a true member of the village."
She snapped her fingers, and Rusty caught a brief glimpse of Starbase One behind her. "Time to wake up."
Opening his eyes, Rusty found himself in the back of a cab. Reaching out, he rapped his knuckles against the screen between himself and the driver’s compartment, “Change of plan,” he announced. “Take me to the nearest public transporter station...”
Deck 47, Starbase One...
All cadets arriving from Starfleet Academy, must report to Admiral Quinn’s office on arrival… the station’s computer politely stated.
If they can just hang back for ten minutes, Rusty thought, as he made his way off the transporter platform and down the gentle incline. He could already hear the waterfall, smell the moisture on the air as he approached the glass arch.
At either side of the arch, stood a Vulcan and a Bajoran NCO, each in tactical red, who came to attention and snapped a salute at Rusty’s approach.
He was about to return the courtesy, when he saw a staffer step around from the curved corridor. Her head lowered as she tapped notes into her PADD, she would have passed Rusty had he not called out to her, "Excuse me-"
His voice made her jump, and her eyes went wide when she turned and saw him, but she relaxed when she saw his uniform. "Can I help you, Commander?" Lieutenant Linnea enquired
"I need to speak to Admiral Quinn," he began. "But this is my first time reporting to his new office-"
"Oh... It’s just around this hallway to the left, sir," she replied. "I’m Admiral Quinn’s executive assistant. If you’d like to come around, I’ll let the admiral know that you’re here."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Rusty walked, before following the willowy blonde.
“I hope I was able to facilitate your research, Counsellor,” Galatea said, as she and T’Reya materialized in the transporter chamber.
“Indeed you were, Commander,” the psychologist replied as they cleared the platform. “If you will excuse me, I have a meeting with a colleague in Club 47’s lounge to discuss a number of matters.”
“The opposite direction than my destination,” Galatea noted, before holding up her hand and effortlessly making the ta’al. “Farewell, Counsellor, live long and prosper.”
“And you, Commander,” T’Reya replied, returning the gesture, before turning and leaving.
"Commander LaRoca to see you sir,"
CommanderLaRoca? "Is he alone?" Was Quinn's first question.
"Yessir. Should I have him wait?"
The Undine calculated the probabilities. "No. Send him in, give us total privacy. On another matter, please contact Vice-Admiral Cartwright and have him report to me at his earliest convenience."
"Aye sir."
Quinn stood up as LaRoca Rusty walked into the office. He was in his fully erect humanoid posture, wearing his Starfleet duty uniform. Quinn's eyes were drawn to the junior officer's bare feet, and the fifteen-cm claws that he knew had ended the lives of many infiltrators, and he readied himself to use the Power.
"Hello, Admiral," LaRoca said as the office’s concealed doors slid closed behind him, and the windows of the office polarized. "Thank you for seeing me."
"My pleasure, Commander. What can I do for you?"
Rusty sniffed twice, scenting the stench of something bitter and foul, and slowly nodded, "Thought so," he said, more to himself than Quinn. "I know what you are, and I know what you're up to," Rusty told him, as he noted the positions of ships deployed through the Sirius sector block. "You want Moab, and there's nothing I can do to stop you from taking it."
The Admiral's eyes narrowed. There were things he'd wanted to say - arguments he wanted to make... but the time wasn't here, and the audience was the wrong LaRoca. But it would be so much easier if he changes his mind... "I’m surprised that you figured that out on your own, Commander," Quinn stated flatly. "It is a necessity. The people of Moab have been very cooperative in proving my case. They will tear themselves apart if Starfleet does not stop them."
"And I think, deep down, even my brother recognizes that," Rusty said. "But he can't take back his promises. You're hurting my brother -- that needs to stop."
Quinn smiled benevolently at the Deinon. "I already offered to save him -- He refused me..."
"He would never join you," Rusty acknowledged, regarding the Undine coolly. "Even if he had no choice. The war between your people and ours is over. You lost. Now you want to punish Moab, I get that. And like I said, there's nothing we can do to stop y- You wanted my brother and his task force to join you to legitimize your invasion force. If the champion of Moab was involved in your pacification effort, you would be able to sell both sides on its necessity!"
"I don't want to punish them, Rusty," Quinn said in a low but steady voice. "And our war is far from over." He reached out to tab a control on his desk, calling up an updated map/chart of the ground situation on Moab III on the huge display behind his desk. "I'll admit, there were moments when I wanted to take that stupid little world and blow it up. Blow it all right up. But... meddlesome as you are, I've developed something of an affection for you people. You are not weak. You would serve us well, with your strength. And these people, these Moabites, they are strongest of all."
He waved at the viewer, and Rusty automatically followed his motion, "But they're killing each other down there. I wanted to destabilize them, but it's all spun so far out of control. Part of the reason I'm sending this task force, why I wanted your brother and his forces, was to correct my mistakes, and to stop this disaster before it gets any worse." He came around his desk, stood in front of Rusty, and extended his hand.
Rusty stared at it a moment, then looked up at Quinn's eyes.
"Your brother has set us back at every turn," Quinn told him, withdrawing his hand and placing it behind his back. "I will enjoy imagining the torment he will suffer, as he sits on a beach, helpless, while I save his world from itself, using his ships." The Trill frowned. "I’m rather enjoying the implosion of your brother's career, but he really has brought it all upon himself. Help him, Rusty. I'd hate to lose such a worthy adversary as him, but if you continue to force my hand, if you continue to be obstacles to the Masters’ plans, then you, and your brother, will be removed…”
The threat, not to himself, but to Zoo, was all Rusty needed to hear, and he launched forwards, an explosion of violence. Ready to rip, to gouge, to rend, to allow the Hunter to tear the infiltrator limb from limb.
But his blow never landed.
Rusty felt a massive pressure, and found himself slamming into a series of shelves, redirected by the Power. The shelves collapsed under the impact, and brushing off the shards of glass and fragments of model starships, Rusty hauled himself upright, leapt forwards again.
On the very periphery of his vision, Quinn saw a notification from Linnea pop up on his monitor. Even as Rusty was mid-leap, he made the calculations, weighed the probabilities, and suppressed the instinct to lash out with the Power. In the instant before Rusty made contact with him, Quinn reached out, slamming a hand down on his desk’s control panel.
The privacy settings disengaged, and as Rusty’s claws sank into the admiral’s flesh, the windows of Quinn’s office depolarised.
Standing in conversation with Linnea and Philip Cray, Galatea had anticipated seeing the polarization of admiral Quinn’s office lower at the conclusion of his current meeting. What she had not have ever anticipated, was the sight of a Deinon in a Starfleet uniform attacking the admiral!
She reacted immediately and automatically, sprinting forwards and diving headfirst through the smart-glass into the office area.
As Galatea rolled, smoothly coming to her feet, Quinn screamed, “You have to help! He’s come here to kill me!”
Without an instant's hesitation, Galatea leapt forward, vaulting the desk and effortlessly hauling the would-be assassin off the flailing admiral. She efficiently snapped his neck with a deft twist of her inhumanly strong hands, and dropped the twitching corpse to the floor without a second thought.
Kneeling over Quinn, Galatea assessed his wounds, “Medical emergency!” She snapped at the crowd of slack-jawed gawkers who had gathered outside the office. “The admiral is injured!”
Pyramid Club, San Francisco...
“I’ve seen the way you represent our people to the Federation,” Ahd'r I’sH’d, the Regent of Pentaxia said. “I’m impressed with how you navigated this situation, and I know that the Empress -- that is, the True Empress -- would understand your decision to stand with LaRoca and his people on this matter. She chose you to participate in the officer exchange, because she knew that you would learn and gain from the experience, just as I did, and she knew you would help to spread awareness for our people.”
Across the table, wearing a formal black dress, H’mL’n smiled appreciatively, and with relief. She had felt that to wear her Starfleet uniform might be considered provocative, but also couldn’t bring herself to don the padded leather bodyglove which was the uniform of the Pentaxian Militia. “Thank you, Ahd'r Sh'N'rr,” she replied gratefully. “I… I just wanted to do the right thing by everyone.”
“And you did,” I’sH’d assured her. “With the deposition of the false-Empress V'sH'K'r, I need to work to restore our reputation among the interstellar community. I need people like you, H’mL’n, to work with me toward that goal. Everything you have learned, I want you to share with our people. Can you do that?”
“Of course, Ahd'r Sh'N'rr,” H’mL’n replied. “And afterwards, I can return to Starfleet? To continue to learn more?”
I’sH’d nodded, “Of course. Whatever you desire.”
“Do you need an answer immediately, Ahd'r Sh'N'rr” H’mL’n asked.
I’sH’d shook his head, “Take as long as you need, Commander. We have all the time in the world.”
Seacliff, San Francisco...
“Georgia…”
The voice was insistent, penetrating the haze of sleep, and pulling Georgia back to full awareness.
“Whus tha ‘mergency?” she grumbled, grinding her palm into her right eye-socket.
Spitz-Reader looked impossibly sad as he crouched down in front of the young Moabite. He opened his mouth, took a breath, before closing it again and sighing. He took another breath and tried again, “It’s Rusty…” he began. “There’s … been an accident…”
Sat by your bed all through the night
I watched your
Daily fight
I hardly knew
The pain
Was almost more than I could bear
And still I hear
Your last words to me
Heaven is a place nearby
So I won't be so far away
And if you try and look for me
Maybe you'll find me someday
Heaven is a place nearby
So there's no need to say goodbye
I wanna ask you not to cry
I'll always be by your side
You just faded away
You spread your wings you had flown
Away to something unknown
Wish I could bring you back
You're always on my mind
About to tear myself apart
You have your special place in my heart
Always
Heaven is a place nearby
So I won't be so far away
And if you try and look for me
Maybe you'll find me someday
Heaven is a place nearby
So there's no need to say goodbye
I wanna ask you not to cry
I'll always be by your side
And even when I go to sleep
I still can hear your voice
And those words
I never will forget
Heaven is a place nearby
So I won't be so far away
And if you try and look for me
Maybe you'll find me someday
Heaven is a place nearby
So there's no need to say goodbye
I wanna ask you not to cry
I'll always be by your side
Lene Marlin - "Heaven is a Place Nearby"
Poster’s Note: The above was written from notes Sander had left for future work. With the decision to give his characters a last spin and a send-off, I felt that this was a fitting conclusion to Rusty’s path. May Liz Tran and the Old Deinon bring him peace.