Hung Out to Dry

Posted on Wed Jul 5th, 2017 @ 2:36am by Captain Enalia Telvan & Chief Warrant Officer Daytona Ral

Mission: Death is in the Details
Location: Various
Timeline: Shortly after returning to 2394

Enalia was in her office pacing. It wasn't big enough to pace in, but she was still trying to do it. She needed a bigger room to do it in. Storming out of her office, and across the bridge, she barely acknowledged the poor ensign on duty watch as he called "Captain on the bridge!" before she launched herself into the turbolift, clipping her shoulder on one of the doors. the pain just fueled her anger at the situation as she checked her hidden holster and found it to be empty. She'd have to strangle him to death then.

"Intel," Enalia growled out, pacing like a caged animal as the turbolift seemed to lazily take her there. Finally the doors opened and she stormed down the corridor the short way to the Intel offices. Spying her 'prey', she walked up to Daytona Ral and glared down at him. Gripping his shoulder, she dragged him from his chair towards the Intel conference room as she growled over her shoulder to Clio. "I'm borrowing him!"

In the conference room, a few people were gathered already, looking at PaDDs, but one look at the Captain's face and they decided they could hold their meeting elsewhere. As they cleared out Enalia released Daytona and Enalia tried to compose herself but instead started pacing the floor again. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Any idea at all?"

Daytona tugged on his jacket to set it to rights.

"Why Enalia!" he said. "It's been a long time! And we haven't even had time to catch up since I joined your crew. How have I been? I've been pretty well, thank you for asking! I've just been on the most exciting adventure! I went back in time, ensured that a meeting that took place between Nexi, Cato, and myself back in 2160 happened as it did before and then I killed a man, a really nasty piece of work named Deshok, a man I'd gone to that very spaceport to kill two hundred and thirty-four years ago. As it happens, my knife caught in Deshok's ribs and I couldn't extract it before my younger self arrived and I had to hide. My younger self extracted the knife, like I knew he would, because that was where I got the knife in the first place, and kept it for the next two hundred and thirty-four years just so I could bring it back to myself again, and again, and again. What headache! What's that? Oh! You're wondering why I'm here if I was there when the planet blew up! The simple answer is that I wasn't there when the planet blew up. Know why? Because the man I had gone there to kill had been killed by future me and there was nothing to keep me there anymore. And so I lived on to do everything I did in the two hundred and thirty-four years since 2160, including all of those...oh, what are they called? Oh yes! VITAL INTELLIGENCE MISSIONS on behalf of Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets, including the one where, and believe you me, I realize how gauche it is to bring this up, but...where was I? Oh yes! Including the mission where I SAVED YOUR LIFE! Oh, and I met a girl! A lovely young woman named Akira Zhuri. You probably know her. I believe you're married to the sister of one of her mothers which makes you...an aunt? Aunt sounds good to me! So, that's what's new with me! What's new with you?"

"Yes! All of that!" As Enalia exclaimed, she flung her arms wide. "I have six new investigations from the Office of Temporal Investigations! I have to sit through three torturous days of briefings with Alden Engstrom the Innumerable! I have over forty admirals asking me why I can't control my crew on such an important mission! All I can tell them is that one of my crewmen went on this mission with information that he knew was critical to the timeline and a predestination paradox and decided not to share it with anyone until we were all so hip deep in modified monstrosities and crises that no one could stop him from murdering some scumbag."

Taking a deep breath, Enalia stalked closer to Daytona, her mood deepening. "And to top it all off, that same crewmember has been getting very touchy-feely with my niece. Oh, I know Starfleet Command doesn't see her that way. Her mothers are from a different reality and my wife is from this one... I know the official story. But as far as we're concerned, my wife is her aunt in every sense, which makes me her aunt too. Which means if you do anything to harm her..." She let the unspoken threat trail off as she turned and headed over to the replicator. She then stared at it, seething.

Daytona said nothing for a moment. Finally he sighed and then spoke.

"We'll get to Akira Zhuri, oh how I love saying her name, we'll get to her in a moment," he said. "I was with the team from Starfleet Intelligence that liaised with Temporal Investigations for this mission you've been on. That's where I learned about the existence of the laboratory based under that spaceport in the year 2160. I remembered being there. I remembered finding Deshok's body, and taking that knife from his corpse, the knife I ended up carrying with me for the next two hundred and thirty four years. And for that whole time I wondered what happened to Deshok. Who had killed him? Who was it that had robbed me of my revenge? Was it just some happy accident? Someone that tried to burgle his quarters, got caught and killed him? Was that the end of this monster that I had tangled with on and off for a century? I had a really wild hunch. So wild that I was afraid of being called insane or less damaging to my career but more damaging to my ego: stupid. So I contacted an...old friend who was then working at the academy as a science professor. One of her areas of expertise was time travel theory and temporal mechanics. She asked to see my knife and scanned it. She said that the temporal energies coming off of the knife were off the scale. I had taken a huge chance going to her with highly classified information, I knew she could be trusted to keep her mouth shut. It didn't matter anyway, she was read into the mission shortly after I explained to Temporal Investigations what I had found. Not everyone at TI thought the readings were significant, but one of them, one of their smartest but most eccentric, floated the idea that I had to go back and kill Deshok and leave the knife behind. That it was possible, highly probable in his estimation, that the knife had traveled backwards and forwards in time over and over again. They weighed the cost of me not going back. Was I that important to the time stream? Some people thought I was important enough to risk sending me back, some didn't. In the end, someone pulled some strings and got me on the mission. I don't know who the string puller was, but they've got enough clout to overrule the Director of Temporal Investigations regarding a time travel mission. I never really gave my benefactor much thought. I've been Starfleet since 2260. I've done a lot of work in the name of the old UF of P and I guess somewhere I must have done something that someone important didn't want undone. I didn't ask questions, I just did what I do. I made myself the solution to a tricky problem."

Daytona had been staring straight ahead, not really looking at Enalia. He shook himself and then turned to her.

"So this investigation, if that's what you want to call it," Daytona said. "It's a...what do the humans call it? An canine and equine show or something like that? Whatever. It's all for show. Temporal Investigations got their dicks stepped on by someone with much bigger feet than theirs and they're pissed off. They're trying to make a stink. It's nothing, Enalia. It'll all blow over. I'm sorry that they're here being a pain in your ass, but it's not going to come to anything. At most they'll end up getting me in a room where they'll grill me about our little trip to the past and try to make me feel afraid, but they've got no teeth in this and they know it. Now you know it. Just answer their questions. You don't even have to be polite about it. Be rude if you want to. I seem to remember you've got quite a mouth on you. Let them have it. The more 'nothing' they come up with, the sooner they'll be forced to move on."

Enalia finally punched in an order on the replicator. As she took the two mugs she seemed more calm. Now things were making more sense. Offering one of the mugs of warm spiced Rigellian ale to Daytona, she motioned for him to sit as she sat next to him. "I'm familiar with the orders that brought you here as well as the request for you to be attached to that mission specifically. They came from a dead man named Franklin Drake, the former director of Section Thirty One before it was dismantled and turned into a closet on Earth. Or at least he's supposed to be dead, anyway. He was spotted during the refit of the Hera and signed your orders coming aboard with Sigma twelve clearance."

"Franklin Drake himself? Really?" Daytona said. "Interesting. I knew him, actually, before he even joined Section 31. He struck me as blindly patriotic at the time, the kind of person who wouldn't think twice about getting a person like me killed if it furthered his goals. A right bastard. Later, he tried to recruit me into 31. I told him off, politely, and we left it at that. I never knew why he bothered to try and recruit me. By the time I knew him, I had enough street cred to be able to tell him off if he tried to give me an order I didn't like and I did on more than one occasion. He's a vindictive son-of-a-bitch, too. I can't really see why he would reach out and help me, unless there was some angle that 'protected the Federation by any means necessary'."

"He claimed to have recruited me as well but the Order happened to get to me first," Enalia sipped from her mug for a few seconds before eyeing Daytona warily. "Investigations aside, what are your intentions towards my niece?"

"Ah, the Order...er...ah...okay, I give up," Daytona said. "What in the name of the Prime Number is 'the Order'?"

He'd dodged the Akira question again. He wouldn't be able to forever, but he figured he'd try as long as possible. He wasn't sure why he was dodging the question. His intentions towards Akira were perfectly honorable. But those intentions included his intent to making love with her, an intent he felt she was beginning, slowly, to share. He knew that some people were twitchy about that when it came to their younger family members.

Enalia paused a moment before answering. "The Order of Whispering Willows. We protect history and we're rather secretive about it. The next time we put in for shore leave, I had planned on taking my family, adoptive and otherwise, to my floating fortress. IF your intentions about my niece are pure... you might be on the guest list."

Daytona chuckled.

"I would like that, I think," Daytona said. "As for whether my intentions for your niece are pure, I suppose that depends on your definition of pure. I intend to pursue a healthy, loving, and intimate relationship with her, a relationship based on respect and mutual affection, with all of the ups and downs and in betweens that will come with it. If you're asking if I want to have sex with your niece, then to that I have a few things to say in that regard. Firstly, I'm rigelian. It would be both unhealthy and unnatural for me to abstain from sexual relations for too long a period of time. Since sex is a natural and necessary part of my life as a rigelian, wouldn't it only be logical, if I may borrow a phrase from my vulcan cousins, to want to have sex with someone that I want a healthy, loving, and intimate relationship with? Secondly, physical intimacy is an integral part of any 'healthy, loving, and intimate' romantic relationship. Lastly, your niece has taken an extremely attractive form and it is perfectly normal for a man in my stage of life to be attracted to her physically. So, in short, if you want me to put it bluntly and rather insensitively, yes I want to have sex with your niece...when or if our relationship progresses that far. This seems honorable to me. How do you feel about it?"

There was no malice in Daytona's voice. He had simply stated the facts about his feelings for Akira as they stood. But something was missing...

"And if I may be less clinical for a moment," Daytona added. "I think your niece is a wonderful young woman and when I spend time with her I feel things that I have not felt in a very long time. I feel as though a part of me, long forgotten, is coming back to life. I would never intentionally do anything to put that at risk. And I think Akira enjoys her time with me as well. It seems special to both of us."

Enalia nodded and sipped from her mug again. "I'm interested in your attraction to her yes, but are you attracted to her intellectually as well? Who she has intercourse with is none of my concern. I'm more concerned with her emotional and intellectual well being. She's young and though she's very knowledgeable, I can't help but feel protective of her. You understand, don't you?"

"I understand perfectly," Daytona said. "And part of that intimate relationship based on mutual respect and mutual affection that I wish to pursue...am pursuing with Akira includes a healthy respect for and interest in not just each other's feelings, but also our ideas, thoughts, theories, philosophies regarding the subjects that interest each other. So yes, I find her intellectually attractive. She has a very inquisitive mind. It's fascinating to experience it at work. She has interests that I either share or feel that I can understand an interest in. She has technical knowledge but seeks practical experience, but is aware of the need to sometimes proceed cautiously as she feels things out...learns how things work in practice. And so many things are new to her. I love being with her as she enjoys new experiences and develops new understandings of various concepts, both intellectual and emotional. Don't take me wrong. I don't see her as a surrogate offspring. I see her as an equal. It is simply that I enjoy experiencing the world with her through her eyes."

Daytona contemplated Azmaria.

"A less experienced person in my position here would make a promise to never hurt your niece or cause to feel pain," Daytona said. "I am over four hundred years old and have a great deal of relationship experience, platonic friendships and sexual relationships, casual flings and serious romantic endeavors. I've been involved in all of them. Unlike a younger, less experienced person, I know that even friends can cause each other pain unintentionally and that in the course of romantic pursuits there are good times, okay times, and while they are hopefully rare, a few bad times as well. I cannot control Akira's feelings. I can influence them, but she is in control of them, to the extent that any of us is in control of our feeling. I will not make a futile, empty promise that there will never be pain, anger, or sadness in my relationship with Akira. These emotions come with any intimate relationship, platonic or romantic. The goal in any intimate relationship is that those emotions are the exception to the rule of thing such as love, caring, affection, happiness, and laughter. That is the kind of relationship that I want with Akira, the kind that is built on affection and mutual respect, the kind that can weather the unpleasant times and keep them brief, always returning to that deep affection and deep respect for each other."

Daytona hoped he had convinced Enalia. He wasn't a human teenager picking a girl up for a first date, hoping that her father doesn't see through his bullshit and realize that he just wants to screw the apple of his eye. He was an adult rigelian, confident and sure in his good intentions and his ability to turn those intentions into reality. He was not a man for whom sex was uncomfortable to talk about, and he was not a man afraid to discuss his feelings. However...

"I know she is your niece," he said. "But she is also her own person and with that comes a right to her privacy. Don't get me wrong. I understand your desire to protect her and your need to feel me out about my intentions for her. But we are soon going to stray into subjects that are not my place to discuss with you, things you will have to discuss with Akira herself. I hope, though, that I have satisfactorily addressed your concerns."

"I hope you have," Enalia muttered, sipping again. "So you're after substance and a serious relationship and you fell in love at first sight. Interestingly enough, it sounds similar to my wife and I. You tentatively have my blessing for now but I highly recommend getting a massage later. You look stressed after the last mission and you reek of having killed someone recently. My wife is also the ship's masseuse so I'll schedule you for a priority treatment."

She sipped her still steaming mug before continuing. "You said you're over four hundred years old. Do you mind a more personal question?"

"When you put it like that, I sound like a school boy with his first crush," Daytona said, a silly grin on his face. "Go ahead, ask. The worst that will happen is that I will go all cold and distant, refer to you by your rank as though we haven't been through it together, and respectfully tell you to go piss up a rope."

"Fair enough," Enalia was silent a moment before asking. "Does death get easier as you get older? I mean we just watched an entire planet's population wiped out because of us. Because of me..."

Daytona looked at his spiced Rigelian ale as though he'd seen it for the first time. He'd forgotten it was there. He picked it up and took a long pull from it.

"That wasn't you, Enalia," he said. "She looked like you, but she wasn't you. She is a separate person. Her actions are not yours. If you are going to come to terms with what happened, you're first going to have to make the decision to accept that fact. As for death getting easier...death comes in many forms, and is not always a bad thing. Death is the destination of all life as we know it. Everyone's time eventually comes through natural or unnatural causes. But intentional death...perhaps murder is a better term? Murder on the scale of what we witnessed isn't supposed to be easy to accept but with time and distance, acceptance comes. You have a beautiful, loving wife by all reports. You have a family. It's an unconventional family, but it sounds like it suits you. You have a niece who will require guidance from someone who loves her like family, but isn't her parent, someone she can share things with, things that she wouldn't share with her parents, things she might be afraid to share with her mothers. You have a career, a successful one from what I've seen. You command a starship in the service of the United Federation of Planets, and have the respect of your subordinates and superiors. In short, you have a life with all of the trimmings. Live it. Living is the best medicine for loss, the best tonic to drive away the horrors we sometimes encounter in life."

Enalia nodded slowly. "You know, as a joined Trill, most people assume I've figured things like that out. I'll let you in on a little secret though, if you promise not to tell anyone. I'm the first host. And to be perfectly honest, I wasn't the Commission's first pick for any sort of joining. It was more the symbiont picked me without their knowledge. In fact, I wasn't even seriously considering being joined in the first place and here I am, first host to a surprise symbiont with a unique genetic strain even the Commission wasn't aware of. And if you tell anyone that, I'll deny it."

"Mum's the word," Daytona said. "If I run into whoever is Telvan's host a few hundred years from now, I'll remind them of this conversation and ask how they feel about death then. I'll be interested to hear their answer."

"I look forward to that conversation as well," Enalia sipped at her ale some more, wondering what kind of host that would be and what they would think of the life she led.

Daytona took another drink of ale, savoring the spices before swallowing. After a moment, he frowned.

"So," he said. "What do we do about Drake? If he's signing orders, not to mention handing out security clearances, then he's still on the Federation's payroll, otherwise his signature would be worthless. If he's able to overrule Temporal Investigations, then not only is he still employed by the Federation, but he wields significant influence. That makes him dangerous. Also, in this case, he seems to have acted on behalf of the good guys. Maybe we don't need to poke the bear this time. Maybe we should just sit back and see what happens."

Enalia unfortunately had to agree. "Either way, there's obviously more going on with this Master business than is good for our health. I haven't even been through half of the reports and I don't like them. I mean, it's obviously the same guy, but to think he did such things even back then..."

"Hmmm...." Daytona said. "How is he still alive? He can't only be Vulcan. If he's alive now, he'd be well over three hundred years old. Either he's done something to his DNA or there's some other species' DNA in the mix. I'd be interested in seeing the lab reports on that blood sample Nexi acquired when they are ready."

"So am I," Enalia replied. "Apparently they're having a bit of trouble identifying the non-Vulcanoid genes so it might be a little while. In the meantime, the database we were able to acquire apparently has some juicy information in it. It references not only Iconian tech, but those extra-dimensional sphere builders that Archer and the Enterprise NX-01 had to fight with that whole temporal cold war thing, if you're familiar with them. Apparently, a lot of the techniques he started his labs with are based on recovered artifacts from those two civilizations."

"Iconian tech?" Daytona said. "Curiouser and curiouser. Curious and worrying. That kind of tech in a being who has exhibited such a casual disregard for life is a very, very dangerous thing."

"Yes it is. I just hope our next mission is a little safer than our last one." Enalia finished her mug of ale and set the mug aside before finishing the thought. "But I doubt it. I expect it'll be far more so. I'll make sure you're invited to the next staff meeting detailing our next mission involving the Master and his plans so be prepared to tell us about any predestination paradoxes you might have stashed away, ok?"

Daytona chuckled.

"If I discover one," he said. "I'll inform you immediately. Well, I suppose I should get back to looking like I'm doing something of vital importance to the very survival of the Federation. Looking busy is the best way to avoid being busy, that's my motto!"

"You mean you're getting back to work being actually busy, right?" Enalia gave Daytona a meaningful look as she spoke. "There's enough to do on this ship that actually is of vital importance not only to the survival of the Federation but possibly to most of the quadrant that several offices back at command are working on it as well so you had better be hard at work."

Daytona frowned.

"You don't have to bark at me Captain," Daytona said. "My record speaks for itself as far as my level of commitment to Starfleet and the Federation. You can safely assume that if I appear to be working on something, then I am actually working on it...unless I'm ordered to make you think I'm working on one thing, when I am actually working on another, in which case it is still safe to assume that I am working on something that someone in an appropriate position of authority in the Federation thinks is important enough to ask me to do it in the first place, they just don't want you to know about it."

You're not the only one with secret accounts stashed away for a rainy day, Daytona thought. I don't stay with Starfleet for the free room and board, I stay out of loyalty, duty, and honor...and now because of Akira. Uch. Young people!. Always feeling the need to assert their authority, their independence, by pushing someone else around.

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my memos before the admiralty ignites my desk terminal with them." Enalia replied, in no way wanting to push anyone around, just wanting to make sure her crew was gainfully employed and not slacking off. She then muttered under her breath as she headed for the door. "Really need to put in for shore leave... Get the crew checked for chroniton radiation exposure..."

Daytona's vulcanoid ears picked up Enalia's muttering and he laughed.

"You do look as though you could use some rest, oh Captain, my Captain," he called after her. "Don't let the Admiralty get you down! Fight the power!"

Daytona chuckled some more and drank down the last of his ale. When he was finished, he recycled his mug and Enalia's and then returned to work.