Tears For The Dead

Posted on Mon Mar 23rd, 2020 @ 10:34am by Ensign Briaar Gavarus & Ensign Fiona O'Dell & Jaeih Dox-t'Aan
Edited on on Mon Mar 23rd, 2020 @ 4:05pm

Mission: Back Down the Long Ladder
Location: USS Hera, Deck 10, Ten-Forward
Timeline: 2397

Mariposa: Now.

Out by the southern edge of the lands William Angus Joseph Campbell O'Dell had staked as his claim when he had claimed a Mariposan bride and declared himself laird of their lands was where they'd buried their honored dead. That was the way of the Bringloidians, which they'd brought with them from the motherland, sweet Ireland. Celtic crosses topped stone monuments, and the rocky soil was uneven and lush, tufts of hearty long grass sprouting all about. Even now, in late autumn, the fields were brilliant emerald with life, and the wind carried the bleats and lows of the livestock in the distance.

A new, fresh marker stood amongst the rest, set evenly beside another marker, whose edges were also crisp and new, not yet worn from years of the wind and rain.

The day was beautiful- the clouds were high and distant for a change, and the wind whipped the hair into your eyes and the heat from your bones, but the sun warmed the skin, and brought the lands to life with dazzling color. By all rights, this should be a time of peace, and farewells. The small family of three gathered about the new monument, all clad in black; the women in veils, the tallest carrying an umbrella just in case the weather changed it's mind, as it was wont to do.

Standing there in her funeral dress, staring at the marker, all Fiona O'Dell could feel was empty. Because the marker meant nothing- it was not her father's final resting place.


Bringloidi tradition held that the family would display the body of the loved one in the family home. Wakes started with neighbor women washing the body of the deceased and preparing it to be laid out on a bed or a table, often in the largest room of the house. The body was covered in white linen adorned with black or white ribbons, or flowers for the body of a child. Candles were placed around the body.

Clay pipes, tobacco and snuff were also placed in the room. Every male caller was expected to take at least a puff. The smoke kept evil spirits from finding the deceased, after all. Usually, a pipe and tobacco were placed on a table next to the body. Occasionally, a pipe was laid on their chest. Clocks were stopped at the time of death. Mirrors were turned around or covered.

The body was never to be left unattended for the entire Wake, which occurred during the day. A person, generally one woman or more would sit nearby. On entrance, the mourner makes their way to the side of the body, kneels down and silently recites a few prayers for the departed soul. Mourners are then welcomed by the relatives and express their sympathy. “I’m sorry for your trouble”…then the mourner speaks kindly of the deceased and walks away. The mourner is offered food and drink for the hours spent at the Wake.

If the weather is good the men congregate outside – if not, they go to the kitchen (this is very important and traditional). The body is often in the parlor and there is a division between the room of the body and the celebration. The mourner stays for a few hours. The old men and women come in the morning and with the end of the working day others in the community stop in.

The Rosary is recited once or twice – at midnight and then towards morning, along with traditional prayers. Most visitors leave at midnight, but close neighbors remain until the morning. They drink tea, whisky or beer and share anecdotes with quiet laughter but within a solemn mood. There are two funerals; one in the evening, and the second is when the body is taken to the graveyard on the next day.

None of these traditions had been observed, and it made the entire funeral seem to be a hollow farce to Fiona.

Her father was dead. His final wish, to be laid to rest beside his wife who had preceded her, had not been respected. He had no traditional wake, as he had thrown for all of their kin who had died, including his dear wife. He'd had a few words spoken over a marker that was not where he lay, and the menfolk had gotten drunk while the women cooked. His body had not lain in state, to be visited and spoken to by the mourners, to give them the closure they needed. Instead, he had been cremated almost immediately, with no autopsy performed.

The funeral had been held days ago. Even with Captain Telvan pulling strings and flying the Hera at breakneck speed, Mariposa was so far out in the Beta quadrant that it was practically considered the Theta quadrant. In 143 hours of travel time, a lot had transpired on Mariposa... as well as on the USS Hera.


The U.S.S. Hera: 5 Days ago.


"Holy frickin' hell, Fee. This is nuts." Briaar Gavarus said, taking a larger than normal swig of her beer, as the two women sat at a corner table in 10-Forward, the U.S.S. Hera's main lounge. "At first I thought the Captain was just... I dunno... screwing with your asshole brother to make him sweat. But... But do you think... Could he have really... really killed your Dad to take his place as the head of the family?"

Out the long windows next to them, the stars streaked past in a prismatic display of color and light as the ship warped at high speed to Fiona O'Dell's homeworld of Mariposa.

Taking the bottle of beer from the big three-fingered hand of her porcine partner in crime, Fiona O'Dell upended the bottle, taking gulp after gulp of beer and backwash. A notorious lightweight, she would nurse a beer, sipping at it daintily over an hour to perhaps finish a quarter of it in an hour, and be absolutely snockered. It was clear in this case, she was aiming to get there considerably faster, and quite recklessly.

When Fiona turned the bottle down again, the miniature maiden belched, then handed the last swig back to the big pig. Turning those big green eyes up, there were tears in them, and sorrow. "Briaar? Me Da's dead, after I lost me mum but two months back. Two months ago I found out, when we talked, alla us, and he was s'happy for us, an'... now he's... he's..."

The little lass' face, usually home to a smile or a grin with mischief in her eyes, instead contorted in grief as an ugly cry took hold. "Ah prooomised 'im we'd coom ta visit... but not like this... tisnae... oh, Da..."

Putting the mostly empty bottle on the lit table, Briaar couldn't bear seeing Fiona like this, but she didn't know what to do or what to say. She was an engineer by trade, and she liked being able to fix things but here, all she could do was be there for her grieving partner as the minuscule Mariposian tried to process the impossible. Putting her thick arms around Fiona, Briaar did the only thing she could think to do, and pulled Fiona into a tight hug as her own eyes teared up. "Oh, Fee... Oh damn... I'm... I'm so sorry."

The usually rambunctious duo suddenly being morose was an unusual sight in the half-filled ship's lounge as the bartender and his server began whispering amongst themselves behind the bar, well out of earshot of even the sensitive ears of the towering Tellarite.

"What the hell do you think happened?" The pudgy, middle-aged human in charge of Ten-Forward whispered to his slightly smug-looking female, Bajoran server, who whispered her reply. "I have no idea, but if it gets them to shut up and not make my night harder, I'm all for it."

"Well, I'm sure that is the only consideration you need, then." Came a sharp and stern voice from the edge of the bar, as Jaeih Dox walked up to them, arms folded behind her back and unveiled disgust on her sharp, Romulan features. "What is occurring is none of your business, but if you wish it to become your business, then I would be pleased to oblige your curiosity. I assure you, though, you would not be pleased to have my attention in such a capacity, as it would mean attracting Lieutenant Commander Dox's unwanted attention, and then the Captains."

The bar manager's face went white and both people's eyes went wide at the words of the former intel agent who now word R&D blue, but was no less imposing a personage that they had no idea had been listening to their words. Not waiting for any reply, Jaeih simply turned towards the couple she was quite fond... and protective of... and made an order. "One ginger tea. One liter hot chocolate. Extra marshmallows. A cup of the same, 350 milliliters. An order of traditional Shepherd's pie. One bottle of synthehol Irish Scotch Whiskey in a very convincing bottle."

While the stern-faced Romulan spy who chose to work for the Federation was feared by many aboard the USS Hera, for any number of reasons, the odd couple of the midget and the pig were not amongst them. O'Dell had in particular sought out the tart-tongued matron and engaged her, which had impressed the woman. In getting to know the two troublemakers, she had been surprised to discover they were doting, attentive and capable parents to their adopted offspring. Additionally, while they gently jibed one another, it was clear they cared deeply for one another, and were protective of those who had a place in the hearts of the mismatched pair.

The first time she had seen it was when they were cheerfully willing to risk ending their Starfleet careers, all to protect the dignity and reputation of their chief, her feathered and warm-hearted daughter in law. Since then, she too had been welcomed into their odd family unit, and embraced as a grandparent figure, which had in truth been good practice for the triplets her daughter and her Miradonian daughter-in-law were expecting. Since then, she had found them to be skittish but braver than most, surprisingly responsible for alcoholics, abrasive to those whom they considered fools, but fiercely dedicated to those they considered friends and family.

As one of those whom had felt that welcoming way of theirs, she now saw one of them broken by grief, and leaning heavily upon the other. In truth, she found it heartbreaking- the little daredevil pilot was bright and cheerful and always at the ready with a joke or a quip, and it was clear she was the driving force in the relationship of equals. With her shattered, the little family would be crippled, grief making children of them all. This was something with which Jaeih Dox was familiar, and she knew how to deal with it. After all, Mrs. Dox loathed ignorance, so Jaieh had read up on the traditions of the Bringloidians, as well as the Irish from whom they had descended, and in whose traditions were still kept very much alive by one Fiona Mary Margaret Josephine O'Dell.

Thus she understood this part of the process of grieving for the heartbroken little leprechaun, and she would do her best to help with it... even though the Captain had already given her orders, and the investigation into the death of one Angus O'Dell had already begun, courtesy of one highly skilled and personally motivated ex Tal'Shiar agent. Jaieh Dox had few she considered friends, and the duo at the bar may have been fools and drunkards, but with good hearts. Whom had shown how much they cared for those around them time and again- including the Romulan matriarch, and her own bloodline.

Woe betide to those who reduced the happy drunks to sorrow and tears.

But justice and revenge would wait. For now, it was time to lend a shoulder and help the shattered heart of the tiny test pilot wring out her grief and loss.

As the bartender supplied her with a tray of the requested food and drinks with what seemed to be record time, Jaeih simply took it, paying the woman no further heed and quietly stepped over to the table. Placing the tray down attentively, the elder Romulan placed each drink and plate in front of the appropriate person and took a seat on the other side of Fiona, a bit closer than she usually sat. Taking a sip of the tea that Enalia had introduced her to, she spoke in a calm voice, "Miss Kodira is currently keeping an eye on Minerva, who is in the playroom with little Moira, being kept quite distracted for the moment, I assure you. I have given the young woman all of the required instructions for Minerva's proper care and she is in good hands for the evening, my dear."

Somewhere in the burly arms of the Tellarite came the sniffled response. "Thankye... muh-Mrs. Dox. I dinna... it'll upset Minnie too much ta see me like this, I dinna want her ta be.... she's too young fuir... "

That was all the little lass managed to get out before she returned to quiet, heartbroken sobs once more. The perennial good cheer of the Mariposian moppet was nowhere to be found on this day; shattered, she wept openly, wrapped in the arms of her thick-skinned suitor. "S'nae fair... we were g'win ta visit, we were, joost... but noow there's nae time, and Da's... Da's gone. Mum's gone and Da's gone and... we joost talked to him. I sent him a letter last week wi' holos of Minnie..."

"I have no words of wisdom to bestow here, my dear. I wish to Al'thindor that I did." Jaeih said, as she lightly ran a hand through the curly locks of the ginger pilot. It was a motion more gentle than anyone would have expected from the former hardened Intel agent. "I can say that from what you've told me, your father was quite taken with our little Minerva. And what I do know... because I may have already hacked into the Mariposian intel network and reviewed his personal communications... is that he accessed those holos you sent him a total of 23 times. 23 times he chose to look at them. Do not forget that, my dear. He clearly loved you and was quite taken with his new granddaughter."

Peering out from the protective embrace of her much larger partner, O'Dell's red-rimmed eyes sought out those of the Romulan woman who was both acting as nurse and nanny to three exceptional children on a regular basis, but doing so while designing their educational curriculum as well as their classroom. Which had been ordered to be designed as spaceworthy itself. All of this the woman was capable, as well as cracking into a planetary security system and seeking specific information.

Thus Fiona O'Dell knew better than to ask, but in her grief and oncoming rapid inebriation, she found herself saying it all the same.

"He... he did? That's... ach, that's... Is é do mhac do mhac inniú, ach is í d’iníon d’iníon go deo,, Da allays used to say. It means... well, tis s'posed to be an insult, aye?" In explaining, O'Dell peered out a bit more from the burly arms of the Tellarite she treasured, who sought to protect her even from her grief.

"It means 'Yuir son is your son today, but yuir daughter is yuir daaaghter f'rever'. The intention of the phrase is that the boys become men when they get married. Which, what a crock'a shite THAT was. Boot as a daughter gets older, she'll stay close to the family, drainin' it a'money an' trouble for years ta coom. Twas a joke me Dad allays had, because he knew I'd ne'er stay close. I'd nivvir be that girl if I could help it, an' he allays knew."

"23 times. Sentimental old bastard," O'Dell said ruefully, patting Gavarus on the boob. "He did... quite taken with her, he was. Said she looked like an O'Dell to him, not a Carrot. He claimed her as part 'a the clan, there and then." The rueful smile fought with the tears as the grieving girl started talking her way through it.

"Howzaboot ye pour me a few fingers a'that there fine bottle of what I suspect may joost be scotch, if ye would, mum. Yuir fingers, nae mine nor hers, though we might get ta that point a'the night if we dinna end oop in sickbay wi' me havin me stomach pumped." The joke was meant to be a bit of gallows humor, but it fell flat to the joker, whose face contorted with another wave of grief. "When did he... when did he pass, mum? If ye poked aboot do ye at least know when he... I dinna think it was last night somehow."

As Jaeih poured a small glass of the synthoholic scotch for the embattled young pilot whose eyes were as red as her hair, she replied first to the unasked question. "He did. And it was on holographic record and the Captain is prepared to use that recording of him claiming young Minerva as his granddaughter legally if she needs to. I believe an Artan legal aide is also on her way to rendezvous with us, but I cannot be certain."

Handing Fiona her drink, Jaeih nodded. "42 hours, I'm afraid. There was no autopsy. No investigation and... well, there is more... concerning his remains. Here, drink."

"Remains...?" Reaching out gingerly to take the drink carefully with both hands, the picayune pilot hiccuped, managing to not spill her drink in the process. Bringing it close, she sniffed at it- the scent reminding her of her father. As she snarled her way around that particular nugget of grief, Fiona tilted the glass up, taking a swallow and a mouthful of the drink, draining half of it. Sniffling, she nodded as she swished the liquor about in her mouth, savoring the burn that reminded her that she was alive, as she raised a glass to the dead.

"Indeed. I... I asked the Captain to allow me to be the one to inform you, but it appears that his body had been..." Jaeih looked up at Briaar for a moment, and unspoken glance to allow the Tellarite woman to be prepared. "He has been cremated. The records show that it was performed less than two hours after the call with your brother was ended. I am extremely sorry, my dear. I am aware of the funerary rites of your people."

The eyes of the little lass raised on traditional Brigloidian customs, which were just the old superstitious customs of the Irish from whence they had sprung, grew wide. Slowly setting down her drink, Fiona blinked rapidly.

"That... that's impossible. Da wanted a traditional burial. He told me in one of his letters, he wanted to be laid to rest in a plot beside Elizabeth Vallis O'Dell, me mum, passed on not two months ago. I thought twas morbid fuir him ta be thinkin' it but... that's... he would nivvir hae wanted that. Baastird fookin Dooncan!" Tears came again as O'Dell shook her mop of crimson curls and took another swig of whiskey. "Fook does he thinks he aboot? Da... cremated? Burnt ta ash, along wi' his ghost. Why Duncan? Fooksake... I can barely wrap me head around Mum AND Da bein' gone and now t'looks like Duncan is bein' a right proper coont?"

"I cannot tell you why this is happening, Fiona, my dear." Jaeih said, her voice softening a bit more as she looked down at the frantic red-heads swollen, emerald eyes, placing a hand on her knee. "But I can assure you I will find out. I swear it, you have my word. I will be accompanying you all down to the planet and I will be conducting an extremely through investigation."

The offer of vengeance would be welcome in time, but not at this fresh and raw stage. But even in her grief, Fiona recognized that for the angry Romulan matron, this WAS reassurance from her. Thinking about it, a sad smile came to the freckled face of the Mariposan moppet. "I wish ye couldha met him. I think ye and he woulda gotten along splendidly, and he'd appreciate that ye kin hold yuir liquor." Eyeing her own drink, Fiona tossed it down... far, far too much alcohol for her low tolerance to take, as she wrapped both her arms around one of Briaar Gavarus' arms and sobbed. The sad sound of a lost child who has lost her parents, never to be seen on these shores again.

"Mum was bad enoof, but not Da... not me Da too..."

Slowly, Jaeih pulled her hand back and noticed that it trembled ever so slightly as she looked at the tiny test pilot that she had become quite fond of. She was indeed angry, but in the moment, anger wasn't what Fiona O'Dell needed and Jaeih Dox wasn't sure she knew what else she could do. It was a feeling shared strongly by Briaar Gavarus, who could only hold her love tight and promise to not let go.

"Just... just cry, Fee. I got you... just cry." Briaar said, her thick arm enveloping her sobbing partner. "I got you."