(The backdrop is a plain wall typical of the officer's quarters on a T'varo; the only decoration is a photograph of a young Romulan nuclear family, a typical tourist shot taken in front of the senatorial halls in Rat'lehfi on ch'Rihan. One of the two children there resembles how Aurelia might have looked as a child.)
My dear brother.
I am exhausted, so this will be a short missive. After three weeks of readiness drills, Anarhai has finally received her first real orders, and we will need to be on our way shortly. I just wanted to clear up some things with you before our departure. I do not doubt this will be an easy mission, but if there's one thing I've learned, things can go sideways faster than a broken flitter.
Regarding your request to take leave to travel to the Flotilla and see the Mandukar susse-thrai face to face – I am afraid they will deny it, and, to be honest, after seeing her myself I am going to support their decision. They will not execute her until she has outlived her usefulness to Intelligence. There is nothing you nor I can do to change that. Frankly, I want you out of this entire mess, blood or no blood, debt or no debt. I want you to have a future. I want you to live the way you want to live. We have made our vows to the Republic and we must abide by them. Abide by my wishes and call your debt settled, whether mine is or not. Do you understand?
No. Wait. Brother, there is one last matter that I will need you to handle if... if worse comes to worse. I am a battered relic of a terrible age. You are less so, but you have my blood and my trust. Kirina and I never told you what really happened just after Jouret for a reason. When I die, you will receive a file with the pertinent details of that situation, if you wish to read them, as well as information on what you must do if my death was... not exactly in the line of duty, shall we say.
She smirks.
Of course that won't happen, dear brother; this is a new world. Just humor me. Humor me, and be well. Don't let this message overly alarm you. I will return post-haste, and I will see you the next time I come to mol'Rihan, and all will be as it should.
6 Likes
Once, in another universe, a planet spun apart because a Romulan grieved.
Grief has obliterated entire senates, destroyed Great Houses, and sucked up the mayfly lives of countless of low-caste lives along the way. Romulan grief survives twenty, thirty years in the recesses of the heart. Romulan grief is painted on the face for all to see. Sometimes, it is the only plain thing that some rihanha do during their entire lives. A Romulan never forgets.
Humans cry and wail and turn to each other for comfort. Vulcans look to the solace of kolinahr. Klingons drown themselves in bloodwine and memory.
Romulans go for the orbital strikes.
- - -
Aurelia t'Veras has been awake for forty-six hours when she finally acquiesces to the truth – that Kirina t'Nalah is truly dead.
It comes all at once, in a violent haze; she stands from her desk and with a long arc of her arm, sends the tablets flying onto the floor and across the room. The chair goes over, and the vase that had belonged to the previous commander, and the half-dead flowers she hadn't changed out before the trip to Virinat. She breathes in and all she can smell are the still-acrid, burn-scoured streets of Virinat. She closes her eyes and all she can see is the wreckage of the Eastland.
She locks the ready room door.
The grief-paint is easy to replicate and the viscous black fluid appears in a metal bowl. She picks it up and takes it over to the mirror, dipping in her right index finger, drawing back her hair with her left hand. She has done this before. This is muscle memory, these curved strokes, the shared language of death. I am mourning family, it says. They died violently.
I will have satisfaction.
- - -
Personal log, 2837-omega encryption.
There is no hard evidence that the Klingons were responsible for the bomb, and underhanded murder such as that is not in the vocabulary of a warrior as traditional as Wrot'ka.
Of course, neither was admitting that he'd been bested by a Romulan half his size.
It was the Klingons. It had to be. Wrot'ka could not suffer her to live after that insult on his honor. This was an execution. I wouldn't be surprised if the whole thing was just an excuse to get her to a place where they could finally reach her. The explosion happening the moment Kirina left the protection of Federation space? That Orion susse-thrai, D'Nar – she would have had access to the verdict, and it is a child's deduction to figure out which transport she'd be put on. The Klingons killed her. The Federation allowed it to happen. The Republic will do nothing about it.
They will all pay for your death, rinam.
Grief has obliterated entire senates, destroyed Great Houses, and sucked up the mayfly lives of countless of low-caste lives along the way. Romulan grief survives twenty, thirty years in the recesses of the heart. Romulan grief is painted on the face for all to see. Sometimes, it is the only plain thing that some rihanha do during their entire lives. A Romulan never forgets.
Humans cry and wail and turn to each other for comfort. Vulcans look to the solace of kolinahr. Klingons drown themselves in bloodwine and memory.
Romulans go for the orbital strikes.
- - -
Aurelia t'Veras has been awake for forty-six hours when she finally acquiesces to the truth – that Kirina t'Nalah is truly dead.
It comes all at once, in a violent haze; she stands from her desk and with a long arc of her arm, sends the tablets flying onto the floor and across the room. The chair goes over, and the vase that had belonged to the previous commander, and the half-dead flowers she hadn't changed out before the trip to Virinat. She breathes in and all she can smell are the still-acrid, burn-scoured streets of Virinat. She closes her eyes and all she can see is the wreckage of the Eastland.
She locks the ready room door.
The grief-paint is easy to replicate and the viscous black fluid appears in a metal bowl. She picks it up and takes it over to the mirror, dipping in her right index finger, drawing back her hair with her left hand. She has done this before. This is muscle memory, these curved strokes, the shared language of death. I am mourning family, it says. They died violently.
I will have satisfaction.
- - -
Personal log, 2837-omega encryption.
There is no hard evidence that the Klingons were responsible for the bomb, and underhanded murder such as that is not in the vocabulary of a warrior as traditional as Wrot'ka.
Of course, neither was admitting that he'd been bested by a Romulan half his size.
It was the Klingons. It had to be. Wrot'ka could not suffer her to live after that insult on his honor. This was an execution. I wouldn't be surprised if the whole thing was just an excuse to get her to a place where they could finally reach her. The explosion happening the moment Kirina left the protection of Federation space? That Orion susse-thrai, D'Nar – she would have had access to the verdict, and it is a child's deduction to figure out which transport she'd be put on. The Klingons killed her. The Federation allowed it to happen. The Republic will do nothing about it.
They will all pay for your death, rinam.
6 Likes
This log was recorded in the familiar background of a T'varo ready room -- painted green-and-gold, but otherwise unadorned.
- - -
I sometimes wonder if my parents ever met real any real Vulcans. I doubt they ever did.
On Ralatak, I was too young to attend the cell meetings; we'd always play with the babysitter, but I do remember the early lessons, my mother helping me to quiet my mind, my father helping me memorize the tenets of logic.
As an adult, I have attempted, in their honor and in pursuit of a Republic they would have supported to their last blood, to hew as close to their reunificationist beliefs as possible. It isn't always possible, of course. This is not a perfect world. I do try to read Surak in their honor, and while I cannot be a pacifist like they hoped, I can work towards a better understanding between the Federation and the rihannsu. All of this is well, and all of this is good.
But.
I wonder if it ever struck the early Vulcan philosophers that their hopes for a purging of emotion, for an end to the violence, could create a society as evil as the one from which they were fleeing. I am reminded of the Mandukar kuhoira, sitting in her cell on the Llieset, reciting the kolinahr. It bothered me at the time, and it still does. I originally thought of her as attempting some kind of... redemption, because that's what my parents saw in the kolinahr, in the control of emotions, but...
What other reasons could she have to pursue kolinahr? If you really think about it, it'll tie your stomach into knots...
The idea that Mandukar feels some sort of guilt for what she's done, it... it's a comforting feeling. The idea that she could voluntarily exculpate herself of the blood of the thousands... that every Vulcan can, and does, and that it was only the pacifist leanings of Surak and his ilk that created the society with which we wish to unite and not a society so violent and oppressive that makes the logic of the Tal Shiar look like the games we played with the babysitter as small children, waiting for our parents to come from Surak study...
I thank the Elements every day that I feel what I do when I think about... about those last days, when I think about Kirina, when I think about... those faces, those people. We are rihannsu, we remember, we feel...
But. I pity the Vulcans, I pity their cold, terrible logic. I recently returned from a short trip to Vulcan, my first. I was there to stand with my friend Rellir in the discovery of her family lineage. We found her father Savarak's katra, and she was able to make contact. Ha! To have that ability, to speak to a remnant-shard of my own father, today! But with Savarak, there was no emotion, no connection, just... a bare acknowledgment that Rellir and her mother looked similar. Even had Savarak been alive, it would have been the same. None of the warmth, none of the life, none of the love I remember from my earliest days...
I am not sure I could countenance to live like that.
I call myself a reunificationist, but...
(She leans back, checks something on her desk.)
On to the matter at hand. I have a decision to make. The reunificationist in me pleads for me to step away, to stay my hand, to choose peace and memory. The rihannsu in me pleads for me to satisfy mnhei'sahe, to take what is offered to me, because blood calls for blood. And if not for Anarhai, if not for my crew, if not for my Republic... I could leave today. I would have the General in a coffin within days... but what it would cost me... but what price is too high to pay for the satisfaction of mnhei'sahe? For Kirina?
- - -
I sometimes wonder if my parents ever met real any real Vulcans. I doubt they ever did.
On Ralatak, I was too young to attend the cell meetings; we'd always play with the babysitter, but I do remember the early lessons, my mother helping me to quiet my mind, my father helping me memorize the tenets of logic.
As an adult, I have attempted, in their honor and in pursuit of a Republic they would have supported to their last blood, to hew as close to their reunificationist beliefs as possible. It isn't always possible, of course. This is not a perfect world. I do try to read Surak in their honor, and while I cannot be a pacifist like they hoped, I can work towards a better understanding between the Federation and the rihannsu. All of this is well, and all of this is good.
But.
I wonder if it ever struck the early Vulcan philosophers that their hopes for a purging of emotion, for an end to the violence, could create a society as evil as the one from which they were fleeing. I am reminded of the Mandukar kuhoira, sitting in her cell on the Llieset, reciting the kolinahr. It bothered me at the time, and it still does. I originally thought of her as attempting some kind of... redemption, because that's what my parents saw in the kolinahr, in the control of emotions, but...
What other reasons could she have to pursue kolinahr? If you really think about it, it'll tie your stomach into knots...
The idea that Mandukar feels some sort of guilt for what she's done, it... it's a comforting feeling. The idea that she could voluntarily exculpate herself of the blood of the thousands... that every Vulcan can, and does, and that it was only the pacifist leanings of Surak and his ilk that created the society with which we wish to unite and not a society so violent and oppressive that makes the logic of the Tal Shiar look like the games we played with the babysitter as small children, waiting for our parents to come from Surak study...
I thank the Elements every day that I feel what I do when I think about... about those last days, when I think about Kirina, when I think about... those faces, those people. We are rihannsu, we remember, we feel...
But. I pity the Vulcans, I pity their cold, terrible logic. I recently returned from a short trip to Vulcan, my first. I was there to stand with my friend Rellir in the discovery of her family lineage. We found her father Savarak's katra, and she was able to make contact. Ha! To have that ability, to speak to a remnant-shard of my own father, today! But with Savarak, there was no emotion, no connection, just... a bare acknowledgment that Rellir and her mother looked similar. Even had Savarak been alive, it would have been the same. None of the warmth, none of the life, none of the love I remember from my earliest days...
I am not sure I could countenance to live like that.
I call myself a reunificationist, but...
(She leans back, checks something on her desk.)
On to the matter at hand. I have a decision to make. The reunificationist in me pleads for me to step away, to stay my hand, to choose peace and memory. The rihannsu in me pleads for me to satisfy mnhei'sahe, to take what is offered to me, because blood calls for blood. And if not for Anarhai, if not for my crew, if not for my Republic... I could leave today. I would have the General in a coffin within days... but what it would cost me... but what price is too high to pay for the satisfaction of mnhei'sahe? For Kirina?
7 Likes
TO: Personnel, Mol'Rihan High Command.
FROM: t'Veras, Subcommander, RRW Anarhai
RE: Personal time
Shaoi ben. I am including in this missive my request for three days of personal time, during which the Anarhai will be under the command of my first officer, Khaiel tr'Galathon. I would like this leave to begin on the day after the Task Force has secured the Otha system; while I do not have a proper date so far, I estimate it will be sometime towards the end of next week.
// SCDR t'Veras.
TO: t'Veras, Subcommander, RRW Anarhai
FROM: Personnel, Mol'Rihan High Command.
RE: RE: Personal time
SCDR t'Veras:
Your request for personal leave has been approved. You may take your three days when you return from Otha and have filed all applicable reports.
I would like to remind you at this time that personal leave is not to be used for private projects involving Republic resources. If you wish to engage in personal projects, you will need to use your own personal resources.
// SCDR Sialix, RRF Personnel Office
TO: Personnel, Mol'Rihan High Command.
FROM: t'Veras, Subcommander, RRW Anarhai
RE: RE: RE: Personal time
Thank you for your help. I would like to assure you that the only Republic resources I will be using are the proper transports from here to whichever all-inclusive beach resort is closest.
// SCDR t'Veras
TO: t'Veras, Subcommander, RRW Anarhai
FROM: Personnel, Mol'Rihan High Command.
RE: RE: RE: RE: Personal time
That is what you said the last time.
We shall consider you reminded.
Please actually go on vacation this time, t'Veras.
// SCDR Sialix, RRF Personnel Office
5 Likes
“... Do you understand how close you are to the edge, t'Veras? How close I am to assigning Anarhai to a more competent commander and you to a permanent post so remote and so unimportant that you'll never see mol'Rihan again?”
Aurelia is in a private booth on Drozana, on a line she's triple-encrypted by ripping open the panel behind the subspace transmitter. The voice on the line isn't Kererek; by this time, they're getting used to her private infidelities, and Kererek has pushed her off to others, and behind the anger Aurelia can hear the clear exhaustion of the underling commander assigned to her growing disciplinary file. She's grateful for the fact that there's no video on this transmitter, because she's green-faced with anger, and holding her fist so tight her knuckles are whitening.
“It was a justified operation, sir –“
“If we wanted you doing these kinds of operations, t'Veras, you'd be in that division. You are not.”
Aurelia can't help herself. The rejoinder comes quickly, with a note of frustration. “And why haven't I been transferred back into that division? It's the trust issue, isn't it? Even after all these years, even after you sent me to treat with the Federation, even after I brought you D'Kera Mandukar and enough intelligence to keep the minions on the fifth floor busy for decades? You can trust me with a ship, you can trust me with seventy-eight lives, but you can't trust me to keep the secrets I swore on my life to protect? After all I did to get here? After all I have done for the Republic?”
The voice on the other end is stern. “Subcommander t'Veras, you are skating on very thin ice, and you're being recorded as well. I suggest you control yourself.”
But Aurelia's flushed a deep green, now, and she's feeling just as she did when facing the brute K'Vok in the treaty-room on the Klingon starbase. “I am good, Commander. I'm better than good. I'm one of the best the Empire had, and they never even knew. And you are wasting me – “
There is silence on the line, and then a deep sigh. “And they were wasting you on the Irix ground assault team when they demoted you from the central tactics room upon the arrival of the Tal Shiar, yes, we've heard this all before. Your behavior is not laudatory. It is a problem. It is a pattern. It kept you from promotion back in the day and it's what is keeping you from full commander today. Trust you? Are you kidding? I think you need to take a very good look at your behavior, Subcommander, and realize that this is not all about you – before I have to send you to the arse end of nowhere to prove it.”
Aurelia breathes in, her fists balled at her sides. Around her, she hears the low hum of others talking, the banter of the Orion subspace-terminal secretary, someone sobbing, muffled, in another booth. She thinks of dead Khoal, his blood on the floor of her former quarters on the Irix, washing her family's honor blade in the sink that had been hers, the sound of the Borg aboard the ships as she sat in the command chair on the Irix, the headiness of it, the power she'd had – she takes a breath, and thinks before she responds, and hopes it's enough.
“You're advising I put aside mnhei'sahe. Forget t'Nalah, what was done to her, forget all of the people that were killed by Mandukar and her – ”
Another sigh from the unseen Commander. "Intelligence division has no room for personal vendettas, t'Veras! Tell me: was your vow to the Republic just another lie?”
Aurelia breathes in, feeling nauseous. “No, sir. Sir. I meant every word.”
She hears the opening of a door on the other end of the line, knows there's more than just one person in with the commander. “Is your heart still Imperial? Does it beat for D'Tan -- or for Sela?”
“How can you... how can you even ask that, sir?”
The commander's voice is quiet and brusque. “Then prove it. You call yourself a follower of the Proconsul, a protector of the new order, a defender of peace, but all you have proven so far is that we are rapidly losing you back to the old ways. If there is even a question that you are not completely on the level, completely in support of the vows you have made to Proconsul D'Tan and to the Romulan people, we are going to have a conversation you are going to like even worse than this one, are we crystal clear?”
Aurelia breathes quietly. “I understand, sir. Yes, sir.”
“Good. Get back to Deep Space 13 as quickly as you can. We're writing you up for being AWOL, and you're off the promotion board for the next five years. Go home, t'Veras. Go home, and thank the Elements that home is still the Anarhai and not a cell right next to Mandukar herself.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Command out.”
She is left in the booth, breathing quietly, thinking of what she'd said to Kaeni.
I don't even know who I am anymore.
Aurelia is in a private booth on Drozana, on a line she's triple-encrypted by ripping open the panel behind the subspace transmitter. The voice on the line isn't Kererek; by this time, they're getting used to her private infidelities, and Kererek has pushed her off to others, and behind the anger Aurelia can hear the clear exhaustion of the underling commander assigned to her growing disciplinary file. She's grateful for the fact that there's no video on this transmitter, because she's green-faced with anger, and holding her fist so tight her knuckles are whitening.
“It was a justified operation, sir –“
“If we wanted you doing these kinds of operations, t'Veras, you'd be in that division. You are not.”
Aurelia can't help herself. The rejoinder comes quickly, with a note of frustration. “And why haven't I been transferred back into that division? It's the trust issue, isn't it? Even after all these years, even after you sent me to treat with the Federation, even after I brought you D'Kera Mandukar and enough intelligence to keep the minions on the fifth floor busy for decades? You can trust me with a ship, you can trust me with seventy-eight lives, but you can't trust me to keep the secrets I swore on my life to protect? After all I did to get here? After all I have done for the Republic?”
The voice on the other end is stern. “Subcommander t'Veras, you are skating on very thin ice, and you're being recorded as well. I suggest you control yourself.”
But Aurelia's flushed a deep green, now, and she's feeling just as she did when facing the brute K'Vok in the treaty-room on the Klingon starbase. “I am good, Commander. I'm better than good. I'm one of the best the Empire had, and they never even knew. And you are wasting me – “
There is silence on the line, and then a deep sigh. “And they were wasting you on the Irix ground assault team when they demoted you from the central tactics room upon the arrival of the Tal Shiar, yes, we've heard this all before. Your behavior is not laudatory. It is a problem. It is a pattern. It kept you from promotion back in the day and it's what is keeping you from full commander today. Trust you? Are you kidding? I think you need to take a very good look at your behavior, Subcommander, and realize that this is not all about you – before I have to send you to the arse end of nowhere to prove it.”
Aurelia breathes in, her fists balled at her sides. Around her, she hears the low hum of others talking, the banter of the Orion subspace-terminal secretary, someone sobbing, muffled, in another booth. She thinks of dead Khoal, his blood on the floor of her former quarters on the Irix, washing her family's honor blade in the sink that had been hers, the sound of the Borg aboard the ships as she sat in the command chair on the Irix, the headiness of it, the power she'd had – she takes a breath, and thinks before she responds, and hopes it's enough.
“You're advising I put aside mnhei'sahe. Forget t'Nalah, what was done to her, forget all of the people that were killed by Mandukar and her – ”
Another sigh from the unseen Commander. "Intelligence division has no room for personal vendettas, t'Veras! Tell me: was your vow to the Republic just another lie?”
Aurelia breathes in, feeling nauseous. “No, sir. Sir. I meant every word.”
She hears the opening of a door on the other end of the line, knows there's more than just one person in with the commander. “Is your heart still Imperial? Does it beat for D'Tan -- or for Sela?”
“How can you... how can you even ask that, sir?”
The commander's voice is quiet and brusque. “Then prove it. You call yourself a follower of the Proconsul, a protector of the new order, a defender of peace, but all you have proven so far is that we are rapidly losing you back to the old ways. If there is even a question that you are not completely on the level, completely in support of the vows you have made to Proconsul D'Tan and to the Romulan people, we are going to have a conversation you are going to like even worse than this one, are we crystal clear?”
Aurelia breathes quietly. “I understand, sir. Yes, sir.”
“Good. Get back to Deep Space 13 as quickly as you can. We're writing you up for being AWOL, and you're off the promotion board for the next five years. Go home, t'Veras. Go home, and thank the Elements that home is still the Anarhai and not a cell right next to Mandukar herself.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Command out.”
She is left in the booth, breathing quietly, thinking of what she'd said to Kaeni.
I don't even know who I am anymore.
6 Likes
Aurelia is wearing a new blue coat in her ready room -- a House color, not the green of an unaffiliated soldier. She has added a number of pictures, for some reason: along with the young Romulan family, she's added a photograph of a mountain town covered in snow and a photo of Kirina t'Nalah.
Computer, begin log.
Aurelia t'Veras, before the Republic – a badass, the hand of death incarnate, steel, ice, stone, fire.
Aurelia t'Veras, after the Republic – a gibbering idiot who can't even properly infiltrate a Klingon base without being caught. A pathetic mess.
Her hand goes down to touch a piece of blue sash-cloth, folded nicely on the desk.
That is why I needed to change. After a long time spent thinking about it on the Kargas base, I have decided to declare public fealty to House s'Lhaihtrha. It is the right thing to do. I have been loyal to Rellir as to a matron for some time, and I do not see that changing. My own House fell long ago. I lost the dathe'nov'sen of my ancestors on the Irix. I am bound to s'Lhaihtrha already through mnhei'sahe, to the khre'riov and the riov both. So. I will wear their colors and be their weapon. I feel... calmer, already, knowing that I have chosen this purpose.
Buchanan asked about it, of course. I knew he would – the man is just as observant as any intelligence officer, and as infuriating. No, not infuriating. I'd like him a lot, if he were rihannsu...
… Ah, but that is the issue, isn't it. I do like him a lot.
Silence, for a moment.
Sometimes I feel like Aurelia t'Veras died on the Irix, and the ghost that has been walking around ever since has taken her name and her skin and everything but her heart. The Centurion would never have acted like an idiot in front of Jack Buchanan, or use one word when she'd meant another... or meant that word in the first place! A human!
She pats the cloth again.
This will help me focus. I am a creature of service and nothing more, and such I will remain. I am not important, save in the actions I take for my Republic and the House I now serve. Speaking of that, though... I've been working on getting some of the lower-scoring crewmen off my ship and into more... suitable positions, while replacing them with officers that I trust to not actually blow the singularity drive. The extremely talented tactician I met on Drozana, De'Arnese... well, I wasn't expecting him to actually enlist, but he did, and I snapped him up before anyone else could. Tracking me back to Deep Space 13, dropping off S'Tev's blade... that was one hell of a job interview. At any rate, I'm glad he is now my blade and not someone else's.
Secondly, and oh, wouldn't Kirina laugh to hear who I have been assigned as a new doctor – a liberated Borg. Unbelievable. Sha're Avital. She's rihannsu, but in DNA only, as she was Borg for a very long time. Culturally, she is... well, I am not entirely sure what to call her. Talented enough, from her records and recommendation letters, and as long as she patches up my crew and doesn't cause trouble, I will do my best not to judge.
But yes, these are the Ajoi at their best, laughing their fvadt fool faces off at me...
What else should I do out of character, while I am at it? Meditate the Kolinahr? Join Starfleet? Go dancing?
Fvadt.
Computer, begin log.
Aurelia t'Veras, before the Republic – a badass, the hand of death incarnate, steel, ice, stone, fire.
Aurelia t'Veras, after the Republic – a gibbering idiot who can't even properly infiltrate a Klingon base without being caught. A pathetic mess.
Her hand goes down to touch a piece of blue sash-cloth, folded nicely on the desk.
That is why I needed to change. After a long time spent thinking about it on the Kargas base, I have decided to declare public fealty to House s'Lhaihtrha. It is the right thing to do. I have been loyal to Rellir as to a matron for some time, and I do not see that changing. My own House fell long ago. I lost the dathe'nov'sen of my ancestors on the Irix. I am bound to s'Lhaihtrha already through mnhei'sahe, to the khre'riov and the riov both. So. I will wear their colors and be their weapon. I feel... calmer, already, knowing that I have chosen this purpose.
Buchanan asked about it, of course. I knew he would – the man is just as observant as any intelligence officer, and as infuriating. No, not infuriating. I'd like him a lot, if he were rihannsu...
… Ah, but that is the issue, isn't it. I do like him a lot.
Silence, for a moment.
Sometimes I feel like Aurelia t'Veras died on the Irix, and the ghost that has been walking around ever since has taken her name and her skin and everything but her heart. The Centurion would never have acted like an idiot in front of Jack Buchanan, or use one word when she'd meant another... or meant that word in the first place! A human!
She pats the cloth again.
This will help me focus. I am a creature of service and nothing more, and such I will remain. I am not important, save in the actions I take for my Republic and the House I now serve. Speaking of that, though... I've been working on getting some of the lower-scoring crewmen off my ship and into more... suitable positions, while replacing them with officers that I trust to not actually blow the singularity drive. The extremely talented tactician I met on Drozana, De'Arnese... well, I wasn't expecting him to actually enlist, but he did, and I snapped him up before anyone else could. Tracking me back to Deep Space 13, dropping off S'Tev's blade... that was one hell of a job interview. At any rate, I'm glad he is now my blade and not someone else's.
Secondly, and oh, wouldn't Kirina laugh to hear who I have been assigned as a new doctor – a liberated Borg. Unbelievable. Sha're Avital. She's rihannsu, but in DNA only, as she was Borg for a very long time. Culturally, she is... well, I am not entirely sure what to call her. Talented enough, from her records and recommendation letters, and as long as she patches up my crew and doesn't cause trouble, I will do my best not to judge.
But yes, these are the Ajoi at their best, laughing their fvadt fool faces off at me...
What else should I do out of character, while I am at it? Meditate the Kolinahr? Join Starfleet? Go dancing?
Fvadt.
7 Likes
Excerpts from the personal log of SCDR t'Veras, Anarhai.
"The Iconians may have antiproton weaponry that can tear sentient cells apart, and dreadnaughts that rip into starship hulls like broken bread – but their worst weapon is far deadlier.
Buchanan. Mandukar. Even the rekkhai. They have all let the darkness into their heart. They all look to the stars and see only death. It will kill us. It will keep us from fighting as hard as we can. This could have happened to me, too, if I hadn't gotten that box from Kirina. We had been so convinced of her death. Science had proven it. And yet, she lives, and yet, she was able to get a message to me. Improbable. Hopeful.
The humans go on and on about hope as if it is real, as if it can actually reach out and save you. I am rihannsu; I know hope is a lie perpetrated by generations upon generations of praetors to keep and reserve power in the hands of the great families.
But what if the humans are right?"
- - -
"I feel for the rekkhai. Foster's life has been so improbable that when he disappeared I expected him to return with an interesting story and, perhaps, a new personality. I even expected his transformation to be complete. I did not expect him to die.
At any rate, even though he was not formally accepted into s'Lhaihtrha, my rekkhai feels deeply about it, and so I will wear the paint for him. Someone put that construct of a man into the runabout. Someone is responsible for his death. Someone needs to die. And, ever since Jouret, this is what I do best. I kill for the innocent."
- - -
"The innocent.
I don't know how to feel. Sometimes I am angry at Captain Perim, for not seeing that there was another choice. Sometimes I am angry at Jack, for not also seeing that there was another choice.
Sometimes I am angry at Jack for caring at all. It makes things so fvadt complicated..."
- - -
"They found my brother. Eyewitnesses say that he was one of the first responders to the attack; he held the line with other soldiers from the project guard so that the scientists could get away with their lives. I am unbearably, unbelievably proud of him, and angry that I cannot get to the Flotilla right now to see him, to tell him that everything is going to be all right, to let him know that Mother and Father would have been so proud...
I cannot go. I have my duties to the fleet. I have Iconians to kill.
Ahnar would understand.
Before s'Veras was a dead House and a forgotten, meaningless name, before we were Reunificationist, we defended the ones we loved. We stood for something. We were powerful. I am s'Veras. I am also s'Lhaihtrha. I will stand for them, and I will stand for the 38th Fleet.
I will have hope."
"The Iconians may have antiproton weaponry that can tear sentient cells apart, and dreadnaughts that rip into starship hulls like broken bread – but their worst weapon is far deadlier.
Buchanan. Mandukar. Even the rekkhai. They have all let the darkness into their heart. They all look to the stars and see only death. It will kill us. It will keep us from fighting as hard as we can. This could have happened to me, too, if I hadn't gotten that box from Kirina. We had been so convinced of her death. Science had proven it. And yet, she lives, and yet, she was able to get a message to me. Improbable. Hopeful.
The humans go on and on about hope as if it is real, as if it can actually reach out and save you. I am rihannsu; I know hope is a lie perpetrated by generations upon generations of praetors to keep and reserve power in the hands of the great families.
But what if the humans are right?"
- - -
"I feel for the rekkhai. Foster's life has been so improbable that when he disappeared I expected him to return with an interesting story and, perhaps, a new personality. I even expected his transformation to be complete. I did not expect him to die.
At any rate, even though he was not formally accepted into s'Lhaihtrha, my rekkhai feels deeply about it, and so I will wear the paint for him. Someone put that construct of a man into the runabout. Someone is responsible for his death. Someone needs to die. And, ever since Jouret, this is what I do best. I kill for the innocent."
- - -
"The innocent.
I don't know how to feel. Sometimes I am angry at Captain Perim, for not seeing that there was another choice. Sometimes I am angry at Jack, for not also seeing that there was another choice.
Sometimes I am angry at Jack for caring at all. It makes things so fvadt complicated..."
- - -
"They found my brother. Eyewitnesses say that he was one of the first responders to the attack; he held the line with other soldiers from the project guard so that the scientists could get away with their lives. I am unbearably, unbelievably proud of him, and angry that I cannot get to the Flotilla right now to see him, to tell him that everything is going to be all right, to let him know that Mother and Father would have been so proud...
I cannot go. I have my duties to the fleet. I have Iconians to kill.
Ahnar would understand.
Before s'Veras was a dead House and a forgotten, meaningless name, before we were Reunificationist, we defended the ones we loved. We stood for something. We were powerful. I am s'Veras. I am also s'Lhaihtrha. I will stand for them, and I will stand for the 38th Fleet.
I will have hope."
8 Likes
Recorded in the captain's quarters of the Anarhai in coded Rihan; it looks like Aurelia has moved in a little, but just a little. It's still a very impersonal space, with few pictures and personal items. Perhaps she simply does not have any.
Something is extremely wrong.
She told me that there were fifteen. Fifteen she could identify, fifteen she saw herself -- then why did she remain unscathed?
Why did she talk like that? It wasn't just the Orion --
-- Is she unscathed? What in ariennye happened out there?
A break in the recording. When she returns, she's let down her hair and is in black exercise clothes. She's still rotten levels of angry.
And him. He knew the whole time. He said nothing! For nearly a month! I know what he thinks of me, but -- but her! I would have thought that he would have at least stood for her! That is Imperial behavior... unless...
Fvadt.
Something is extremely wrong.
She told me that there were fifteen. Fifteen she could identify, fifteen she saw herself -- then why did she remain unscathed?
Why did she talk like that? It wasn't just the Orion --
-- Is she unscathed? What in ariennye happened out there?
A break in the recording. When she returns, she's let down her hair and is in black exercise clothes. She's still rotten levels of angry.
And him. He knew the whole time. He said nothing! For nearly a month! I know what he thinks of me, but -- but her! I would have thought that he would have at least stood for her! That is Imperial behavior... unless...
Fvadt.
4 Likes
TO: Personnel, Mol'Rihan High Command.
FROM: t'Veras, Subcommander, RRW Anarhai
RE: Personal time
Shaoi ben. I am including in this missive my request for three days of personal time, during which the Anarhai will be under the command of my first officer, Nakar tr'Neral.
// SCDR t'Veras.
TO: t'Veras, Subcommander, RRW Anarhai
FROM: Personnel, Mol'Rihan High Command.
RE: RE: Personal time
No.
// SCDR Sialix, RRF Personnel Office
FROM: t'Veras, Subcommander, RRW Anarhai
RE: Personal time
Shaoi ben. I am including in this missive my request for three days of personal time, during which the Anarhai will be under the command of my first officer, Nakar tr'Neral.
// SCDR t'Veras.
TO: t'Veras, Subcommander, RRW Anarhai
FROM: Personnel, Mol'Rihan High Command.
RE: RE: Personal time
No.
// SCDR Sialix, RRF Personnel Office
9 Likes
A conversation between two siblings, held in a dark room over kali-fal and a picture of a happy Romulan family on vacation to the Apnex Sea.
“He's a human, Aurelia.”
“I work with humans all the time. I can even be friends with them. And Jack is only a friend.”
“That's not what they're saying in – “
“You've never been good with gossip, Ahnar. When you can't control it, you starve it like you'd starve a deck fire: cut off the fuel supply.”
“You make it sound so clinical.”
“It is clinical. It's the way things get done in my world. And besides, you're a total hypocrite.”
“I am not.”
“Christine.”
“... We're not talking about Christine! She was a mistake.”
“A five-month mistake. That you brought to Vastam on a romantic trip, that you bought a necklace for...”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Mmhmm. Right.”
“She was human. She couldn't handle it, in the end. When it comes to real emotion, your average human is about as capable as your average rock. I forgot that.”
“Jack's not like that.”
“He's a human.”
“Fvadt, would you stop?”
“Okay, okay! I'm trying to stop you from making a mistake because I love you, rinam. I don't even think you should be friends. Because this is how it started with Christine... cultural sharing, a mutual admiration society... and then it became respect... and then I took her hand, and you know what happened next.”
“You really don't need to be telling me this. Ew.”
“It was a disaster.”
“We all know it was a disaster, Ahnar.”
“The point is: I know you. And now I know him. I had a long talk with him earlier, on the holodeck. He respects you. He truly respects you. He understands what s'Lhaihtrha means to you. He won't violate it.”
“Then we're done here. Everything is fine.”
“No. Because he's human, and he can't help it. He will violate it. Because I think he does actually like you quite a bit, and in that way. Sometime in the future, under pressure, It's going to come out and it's going to hurt.”
“Nothing hurts me.”
“I didn't say it was going to hurt you.”
“Ahnar – “
“You'll destroy him, like I destroyed Christine. We're a people meant to conquer. We're meant for strength. We're meant for D'era. I've studied this. It's a setpiece of modern anthropology. The war marriages of the early 24th century, like the ones that produced Empress Sela – we think we're different in our new Republic, but whenever rihannsu enter a relationship with a human or a Vulcan or someone else of a weaker race, it's a war marriage. It can be nothing else. Buchanan is smart enough. He's figured it out. But it's not going to be enough.”
“We're just friends.”
“Here, let me be our father. What I think he'd say. Find a nice rihannsu boy. Now, rather than later.”
“Khoi-udt, butthead.”
“I love you too, Aurelia.”
“He's a human, Aurelia.”
“I work with humans all the time. I can even be friends with them. And Jack is only a friend.”
“That's not what they're saying in – “
“You've never been good with gossip, Ahnar. When you can't control it, you starve it like you'd starve a deck fire: cut off the fuel supply.”
“You make it sound so clinical.”
“It is clinical. It's the way things get done in my world. And besides, you're a total hypocrite.”
“I am not.”
“Christine.”
“... We're not talking about Christine! She was a mistake.”
“A five-month mistake. That you brought to Vastam on a romantic trip, that you bought a necklace for...”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Mmhmm. Right.”
“She was human. She couldn't handle it, in the end. When it comes to real emotion, your average human is about as capable as your average rock. I forgot that.”
“Jack's not like that.”
“He's a human.”
“Fvadt, would you stop?”
“Okay, okay! I'm trying to stop you from making a mistake because I love you, rinam. I don't even think you should be friends. Because this is how it started with Christine... cultural sharing, a mutual admiration society... and then it became respect... and then I took her hand, and you know what happened next.”
“You really don't need to be telling me this. Ew.”
“It was a disaster.”
“We all know it was a disaster, Ahnar.”
“The point is: I know you. And now I know him. I had a long talk with him earlier, on the holodeck. He respects you. He truly respects you. He understands what s'Lhaihtrha means to you. He won't violate it.”
“Then we're done here. Everything is fine.”
“No. Because he's human, and he can't help it. He will violate it. Because I think he does actually like you quite a bit, and in that way. Sometime in the future, under pressure, It's going to come out and it's going to hurt.”
“Nothing hurts me.”
“I didn't say it was going to hurt you.”
“Ahnar – “
“You'll destroy him, like I destroyed Christine. We're a people meant to conquer. We're meant for strength. We're meant for D'era. I've studied this. It's a setpiece of modern anthropology. The war marriages of the early 24th century, like the ones that produced Empress Sela – we think we're different in our new Republic, but whenever rihannsu enter a relationship with a human or a Vulcan or someone else of a weaker race, it's a war marriage. It can be nothing else. Buchanan is smart enough. He's figured it out. But it's not going to be enough.”
“We're just friends.”
“Here, let me be our father. What I think he'd say. Find a nice rihannsu boy. Now, rather than later.”
“Khoi-udt, butthead.”
“I love you too, Aurelia.”
8 Likes
In the detention level, this conversation might be caught by an awake or enterprising guard.
"... Aurelia. You've come."
There is silence.
"... Aurelia, I didn't know."
"Don't tell me you didn't know, Ahnar. I told you, over and over, that something was up, that something was wrong. And instead of supporting your blood, you listened to your h'levreinnye. You listened to your dick, like you always do. I told you about the cats. I told you about my suspicions, I asked you to keep a watch on her, and what did you do? You watched her, all right, and let her play you like feanna askain. You cannot tell me that a woman that does that to twenty-four cats is sane! No, Ahnar, you had plenty of time to show me where your loyalties were, and you did not choose me. You chose D'Kera Mandukar, and you chose the Tal Shiar."
"Aurelia, calm down. I didn't choose anything. I told you, she was completely normal to me the entire time. Just three hours before, we were talking about Artalierh, and the new semester... about how excited I was to be returning to the students..."
Silence again.
"I thought she was the one, Aurelia."
"Ajoi! You cannot even keep it in your pants!"
"This was different!"
"She was playing you! I told you, I've known her since -- "
"-- Since 2407, blah, Irix, blah, I'm the ssaedhe Aurelia t'Veras, Iook what I've given up, look how fvadt brave I am -- yes, I know, we don't need to rehash this old kllhwnia -- "
"You're not even sorry."
"Of course I'm sorry! I'm just as much a victim here as you are. Kirina used me to --"
"You are not a victim! Do you know who is a victim?! Centurion Dar, Uhlan Nn'khiy -- "
"You said it yourself. This is war. You do not get to use the deaths of your crew to turn away from your own blood, because that's where this is going, isn't it, Aurelia? Are you going to turn away from me, now? Are you going to let her win? Are you going to let them all win -- Kirina, Mandukar, their slaves? Leave me here to end up in a Federation penal colony somewhere? Fvadt, you haven't even told them, have you? They're probably sitting there right now, trying to figure it out, and you haven't even told them, you haven't ever told them -- you've just been this walking time bomb the entire time --"
Silence.
"I wasn't the one that turned away from my own blood." Quiet-voiced, Aurelia speaks again. There's a rustling, as if she's getting up. "You sicken me, Ahnar. A Federation penal colony is less than you deserve. In a way, D'Kera Mandukar has already won. She has already taken away from me that which I loved, that which I valued, that which was once my whole world, made him into a traitor beyond traitors... This is the last time I will come to see you until she is dead. And then we will have our reckoning, you and I."
"You're going to quote mnhei'sahe at me, Aurelia?"
"... is there anything else?"
Aurelia leaves.
"... Aurelia. You've come."
There is silence.
"... Aurelia, I didn't know."
"Don't tell me you didn't know, Ahnar. I told you, over and over, that something was up, that something was wrong. And instead of supporting your blood, you listened to your h'levreinnye. You listened to your dick, like you always do. I told you about the cats. I told you about my suspicions, I asked you to keep a watch on her, and what did you do? You watched her, all right, and let her play you like feanna askain. You cannot tell me that a woman that does that to twenty-four cats is sane! No, Ahnar, you had plenty of time to show me where your loyalties were, and you did not choose me. You chose D'Kera Mandukar, and you chose the Tal Shiar."
"Aurelia, calm down. I didn't choose anything. I told you, she was completely normal to me the entire time. Just three hours before, we were talking about Artalierh, and the new semester... about how excited I was to be returning to the students..."
Silence again.
"I thought she was the one, Aurelia."
"Ajoi! You cannot even keep it in your pants!"
"This was different!"
"She was playing you! I told you, I've known her since -- "
"-- Since 2407, blah, Irix, blah, I'm the ssaedhe Aurelia t'Veras, Iook what I've given up, look how fvadt brave I am -- yes, I know, we don't need to rehash this old kllhwnia -- "
"You're not even sorry."
"Of course I'm sorry! I'm just as much a victim here as you are. Kirina used me to --"
"You are not a victim! Do you know who is a victim?! Centurion Dar, Uhlan Nn'khiy -- "
"You said it yourself. This is war. You do not get to use the deaths of your crew to turn away from your own blood, because that's where this is going, isn't it, Aurelia? Are you going to turn away from me, now? Are you going to let her win? Are you going to let them all win -- Kirina, Mandukar, their slaves? Leave me here to end up in a Federation penal colony somewhere? Fvadt, you haven't even told them, have you? They're probably sitting there right now, trying to figure it out, and you haven't even told them, you haven't ever told them -- you've just been this walking time bomb the entire time --"
Silence.
"I wasn't the one that turned away from my own blood." Quiet-voiced, Aurelia speaks again. There's a rustling, as if she's getting up. "You sicken me, Ahnar. A Federation penal colony is less than you deserve. In a way, D'Kera Mandukar has already won. She has already taken away from me that which I loved, that which I valued, that which was once my whole world, made him into a traitor beyond traitors... This is the last time I will come to see you until she is dead. And then we will have our reckoning, you and I."
"You're going to quote mnhei'sahe at me, Aurelia?"
"... is there anything else?"
Aurelia leaves.
11 Likes
(The log is filmed in Aurelia's ready room; she is dressed in a Republic standard uniform in s'Lhaihtrha colors, and her hands are clasped behind her back as she walks to and fro in front of the camera).
There is a lot to accomplish if I want to keep breathing.
First, there are some readings and tests I wish to run regarding the transporter accident that created the monster "Divan" and the medical records and scans that were taken subsequent to her creation. There must be something there, something we didn't see, something we overlooked. I have to bring Mrian in on that -- Foster, Lindresko, Jochon. I need to figure out if there's something we can do to track the cats back to Kirina, and hopefully from there to D'Kera. I have to finish overhauling the security measures for Anarhai; I'm thinking of using some kind of sieve-shock algorithm, something so new it's not even in the passbooks yet...
Second, there is the matter of protecting my family. Rellir, Jack... even my legal cousin Davin, now. Quint and the others, who do not deserve becoming the pawns D'Kera would make of them, who do not deserve to die because they stepped into a matter they simply do not understand.
Third, I have to go through the information being collated on D'Kera's fleet from the Feds, from Uhlan Aev, my contacts back at Command. There's one particularly concerning dhelan, Celeris... I am absolutely sure that one was under the command of Davin's former XO, Kaeni, one of the people who helped Kirina escape Kargas. Those implications... well, they sicken me. How far does this go back? How long has Kirina been under the thumb of D'Kera Mandukar? Did it happen when she was held on the Klingon base, when we thought she was dead? Fvadt, this situation... it winds, it twists, it makes you question what you thought was real and true...
... No. It does not make me question anything. What I began above Jouret, I must finish.
There is a lot to accomplish if I want to keep breathing.
First, there are some readings and tests I wish to run regarding the transporter accident that created the monster "Divan" and the medical records and scans that were taken subsequent to her creation. There must be something there, something we didn't see, something we overlooked. I have to bring Mrian in on that -- Foster, Lindresko, Jochon. I need to figure out if there's something we can do to track the cats back to Kirina, and hopefully from there to D'Kera. I have to finish overhauling the security measures for Anarhai; I'm thinking of using some kind of sieve-shock algorithm, something so new it's not even in the passbooks yet...
Second, there is the matter of protecting my family. Rellir, Jack... even my legal cousin Davin, now. Quint and the others, who do not deserve becoming the pawns D'Kera would make of them, who do not deserve to die because they stepped into a matter they simply do not understand.
Third, I have to go through the information being collated on D'Kera's fleet from the Feds, from Uhlan Aev, my contacts back at Command. There's one particularly concerning dhelan, Celeris... I am absolutely sure that one was under the command of Davin's former XO, Kaeni, one of the people who helped Kirina escape Kargas. Those implications... well, they sicken me. How far does this go back? How long has Kirina been under the thumb of D'Kera Mandukar? Did it happen when she was held on the Klingon base, when we thought she was dead? Fvadt, this situation... it winds, it twists, it makes you question what you thought was real and true...
... No. It does not make me question anything. What I began above Jouret, I must finish.
8 Likes
A letter returns in the comm traffic to Artalierh, addressed to Professor Ahnar tr'Veras in the Department of Archaeology, in response to a formal petition that he wrote his sister earlier during the week.
- - -
Brother,
Let us make this perfectly, absolutely clear: I am not throwing away either my loyalty to my House or my career to marry Jack Buchanan, and choosing this particular place to stand is doing you no favors.
For someone who so cherishes the lessons of the past, you are be one of the most obtuse, hard-headed rihanha I know. In your last letter, you appeal to my sense of tradition, to my sense of ambition, to the glory of s’Veras’ past and the possibility of s’Veras’ future. You ask me to follow what Mother and Father wanted. You remind me that even though we are common, even though our name is barely noble -- that I am yet hru’firh of our sad little duo with its sad little bank account, and that I have all the responsibilities thereof, and that it is still best that I make a political marriage.
You have the nerve to do this even after the grievous wrongs you have made happen to myself and my crewmates aboard DS13.
So, I will be magnanimous, and explain it to you in little, tiny words that are the only ones you apparently understand.
I don’t know what you’re experiencing on Artalierh, but even here on DS13 you can see the shadows moving; s’Lhaihtrha rises, with the accession of Rellir to khre’riov. s’Illiahlae has also recently placed their pieces on the board; Mrian liberated her homeworld and her sister was installed as governor, and the two of them will rise like rockets, I'm sure. I’m also certain my friend the trader, Vatka t’Dre’el, is working to make sure her name is known at home. All of them have resources, Ahnar. All of them have the connections to do it, too.
My allies on DS13 have, to a person, all promoted their Houses on the sweat of their hands and the skill of their swordarm. Even Mandukar keeps his mnhei’sahe while faced with his mother’s evil threatening the galaxy. And you, intimating that my marriage would do anything less, is sickening to me.
And do not -- do not, brother -- assume that I am doing nothing to push forward the ambitions of s’Veras by placing our House in service to s'Lhaihtrha. University politics is not Republic politics. You have been out of the game for far too long. Your internal weathervane sucks. Must I remind you of what you did with Kirina? And now, you spend your days within the same complex as that susse-thrai and the demon she serves and you're still too much of a coward to send me intel! Do not intimate that I am also a coward and that I do not have plans for them. I am simply not sharing them with you. I will never share them with you again!
You want me to be hru’firh? You want me to follow in the footsteps of Mother and Father? Fine. Here is what I will do. I will make all of my decisions without you. I will lay your future on the line without consulting you. I will make my moves without you in mind. I will sacrifice you for the cause. Your tears will go unheard. I will not hear them. I will not want to hear them. I will ignore them. I will have to ignore them. Is that what you really want?
Did you ever wonder why we moved to Ralatak, brother? Why a family of reunificationists who just wanted to be left alone with their Surak tracts moved to a planet with a massive Imperial military machine, an armory, warbird parts factories, a phi’lasasam? The answer is, after all these years, so fvadt clear to me. You’ve been ignoring it for a long time. Do you ever wonder why we were never allowed in the room with the adults for devotions? Did you ever wonder what they were storing in the basement, why we were never allowed to go down there?
I’ll attach you the records I found of what they seized that day out of our old compound. I was able to download them when I was on Ralatak a few weeks ago for an unrelated mission. I’m sure you will find them illuminating.
Our parents may have been reunificationist, yes. But they were not peaceful. They were revolutionaries. If you want to bury your head in your ancient temples and look away and not believe it, that’s your choice. Mother and Father were revolutionaries and as such they were ready to put themselves, and their children, on the line for what they believed.
Mother knew we could die for what they planned to do to the Imperial depot. She was going to do it anyway.
I was going to keep that news from you. I wanted you to keep on remembering her as you did. But you are asking me to step up, and that requires you to step up as well.
Mother was a true hru’firh, and that is the legacy of s’Veras: doing the thing she knows to be right and honorable with what little resources she had, knowing that she, her husband, and her children would pay the price in blood.
You want me to be hru’firh of s’Veras?
Then I will be such.
And if I am hru’firh, you, brother, are the one that has done grievous wrong, not I.
I’m getting married to Jack Buchanan. Our firstborn daughter will be hru’firh of s'Veras after me. We will serve s’Lhaihtrha and we grow in glory and honor with the work of our hands and the strength of our swords. We will take down D’Kera Mandukar and all her evil works. You can choose to be a part of it, or you can choose the road of a houseless exile. I am going to ask you to apologize for what you have done to our family, to make that choice to actively promote the welfare of s’Veras rather than sit in your classroom and whine about things that no longer apply to our lives. Get on the wagon with the rest of us or rot where you are. It’s really your choice.
I will be expecting your reply.
Your sister,
Erei’riov Aurelia t’Veras, RRW Anarhai
- - -
Brother,
Let us make this perfectly, absolutely clear: I am not throwing away either my loyalty to my House or my career to marry Jack Buchanan, and choosing this particular place to stand is doing you no favors.
For someone who so cherishes the lessons of the past, you are be one of the most obtuse, hard-headed rihanha I know. In your last letter, you appeal to my sense of tradition, to my sense of ambition, to the glory of s’Veras’ past and the possibility of s’Veras’ future. You ask me to follow what Mother and Father wanted. You remind me that even though we are common, even though our name is barely noble -- that I am yet hru’firh of our sad little duo with its sad little bank account, and that I have all the responsibilities thereof, and that it is still best that I make a political marriage.
You have the nerve to do this even after the grievous wrongs you have made happen to myself and my crewmates aboard DS13.
So, I will be magnanimous, and explain it to you in little, tiny words that are the only ones you apparently understand.
I don’t know what you’re experiencing on Artalierh, but even here on DS13 you can see the shadows moving; s’Lhaihtrha rises, with the accession of Rellir to khre’riov. s’Illiahlae has also recently placed their pieces on the board; Mrian liberated her homeworld and her sister was installed as governor, and the two of them will rise like rockets, I'm sure. I’m also certain my friend the trader, Vatka t’Dre’el, is working to make sure her name is known at home. All of them have resources, Ahnar. All of them have the connections to do it, too.
My allies on DS13 have, to a person, all promoted their Houses on the sweat of their hands and the skill of their swordarm. Even Mandukar keeps his mnhei’sahe while faced with his mother’s evil threatening the galaxy. And you, intimating that my marriage would do anything less, is sickening to me.
And do not -- do not, brother -- assume that I am doing nothing to push forward the ambitions of s’Veras by placing our House in service to s'Lhaihtrha. University politics is not Republic politics. You have been out of the game for far too long. Your internal weathervane sucks. Must I remind you of what you did with Kirina? And now, you spend your days within the same complex as that susse-thrai and the demon she serves and you're still too much of a coward to send me intel! Do not intimate that I am also a coward and that I do not have plans for them. I am simply not sharing them with you. I will never share them with you again!
You want me to be hru’firh? You want me to follow in the footsteps of Mother and Father? Fine. Here is what I will do. I will make all of my decisions without you. I will lay your future on the line without consulting you. I will make my moves without you in mind. I will sacrifice you for the cause. Your tears will go unheard. I will not hear them. I will not want to hear them. I will ignore them. I will have to ignore them. Is that what you really want?
Did you ever wonder why we moved to Ralatak, brother? Why a family of reunificationists who just wanted to be left alone with their Surak tracts moved to a planet with a massive Imperial military machine, an armory, warbird parts factories, a phi’lasasam? The answer is, after all these years, so fvadt clear to me. You’ve been ignoring it for a long time. Do you ever wonder why we were never allowed in the room with the adults for devotions? Did you ever wonder what they were storing in the basement, why we were never allowed to go down there?
I’ll attach you the records I found of what they seized that day out of our old compound. I was able to download them when I was on Ralatak a few weeks ago for an unrelated mission. I’m sure you will find them illuminating.
Our parents may have been reunificationist, yes. But they were not peaceful. They were revolutionaries. If you want to bury your head in your ancient temples and look away and not believe it, that’s your choice. Mother and Father were revolutionaries and as such they were ready to put themselves, and their children, on the line for what they believed.
Mother knew we could die for what they planned to do to the Imperial depot. She was going to do it anyway.
I was going to keep that news from you. I wanted you to keep on remembering her as you did. But you are asking me to step up, and that requires you to step up as well.
Mother was a true hru’firh, and that is the legacy of s’Veras: doing the thing she knows to be right and honorable with what little resources she had, knowing that she, her husband, and her children would pay the price in blood.
You want me to be hru’firh of s’Veras?
Then I will be such.
And if I am hru’firh, you, brother, are the one that has done grievous wrong, not I.
I’m getting married to Jack Buchanan. Our firstborn daughter will be hru’firh of s'Veras after me. We will serve s’Lhaihtrha and we grow in glory and honor with the work of our hands and the strength of our swords. We will take down D’Kera Mandukar and all her evil works. You can choose to be a part of it, or you can choose the road of a houseless exile. I am going to ask you to apologize for what you have done to our family, to make that choice to actively promote the welfare of s’Veras rather than sit in your classroom and whine about things that no longer apply to our lives. Get on the wagon with the rest of us or rot where you are. It’s really your choice.
I will be expecting your reply.
Your sister,
Erei’riov Aurelia t’Veras, RRW Anarhai
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Sent back to Aurelia t'Veras, via unencrypted mail:
Honored hru'firh s'Veras. I hereby resign all family ties to house s'Veras, including any claim to the House's name, rights and privileges for myself, my future consorts, and my future heirs. I adopt the common name of my new city where I live and university community I bleed for as Ahnar i-Trilakas.
You can continue the cycle of death, of violence, of revenge, my lady of the Thalaron. I no longer have the stomach for this life. I take my coward's punishment.
Signed,
Ahnar i-Trilakas, archaeology department, University of Artalierh.
Honored hru'firh s'Veras. I hereby resign all family ties to house s'Veras, including any claim to the House's name, rights and privileges for myself, my future consorts, and my future heirs. I adopt the common name of my new city where I live and university community I bleed for as Ahnar i-Trilakas.
You can continue the cycle of death, of violence, of revenge, my lady of the Thalaron. I no longer have the stomach for this life. I take my coward's punishment.
Signed,
Ahnar i-Trilakas, archaeology department, University of Artalierh.
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Aurelia is sitting in some Federation quarters -- quite possibly, the captain's quarters on the Robau.
It’s over. Finally, it’s over.
Aurelia sighs heavily.
For better or for worse.
She rubs her temples.
I’m always going to wonder, you know, about what I would have done last year if Kirina had just been honest with me from the outset. If I knew then what I know now about the deep grief that defined D’Kera, if I’d actually seen her as a feeling, sentient person and not just a cypher, an ancient enemy. If I had tried to follow the code I say I follow, if I saw that her grief was my grief…
However.
The Mandukar cult never really tackled the central fallacy of their terrible calculus, the ridiculous thought that the lives they took would somehow balance out the lives they restored. Maybe if I had been there from the beginning, I could have helped them see that there was no way to control the outcome of their experiment. They were running a war room for a war that could never be won, because there simply wasn’t enough intelligence to take the attack past initial contact.
D’Kera talked about the reunificationist rallies outside the Senate, the light hitting the cliffs over the bay in the morning… but that past also included the disappearances, the midnight murders, the slaughter of journalists and artists and Navy officers who did not agree with the majority or who were deemed just a little too much to the left…
We all romanticize the past. I can talk about my parents all I like, tell the world of their kindness, their love, how close we were as a family… but as an adult, I have to also face that they knew that if something happened to them, we’d be given over to the war machine or worse. I have to reconcile the warmth I remember with the fact that they were willing and able to do that to us. D’Kera is so much in grief that she cannot see that, even if she were able to alter the supernova, that the cancer at the heart of our society was so black, so deep… she can’t see the very thing that ate her alive, that was the inspiration for her bloody career.
Yes, I’m always going to wonder. But I don’t think, in the end, that I made the wrong decision.
In that other timeline, the one I don’t remember, the one that happened only to D’Kera… I got aboard Vauthilai somehow and I executed her. I made Jack a promise, and I know that the only way I would have broken that promise is that D’Kera was successful, and that success threatened the very fabric of the universe.
You know, that makes me wonder… if she died, how does she remember?
I told D’Kera I was done with her. I don’t want her to know that I’ll be thinking about this for the rest of my life.
She rubs her temples again, as if she has a headache.
Now, it’s just all janitorial work. Find Kirina t’Nalah, find the deserters, move forward.
Forward is the only way.
It’s over. Finally, it’s over.
Aurelia sighs heavily.
For better or for worse.
She rubs her temples.
I’m always going to wonder, you know, about what I would have done last year if Kirina had just been honest with me from the outset. If I knew then what I know now about the deep grief that defined D’Kera, if I’d actually seen her as a feeling, sentient person and not just a cypher, an ancient enemy. If I had tried to follow the code I say I follow, if I saw that her grief was my grief…
However.
The Mandukar cult never really tackled the central fallacy of their terrible calculus, the ridiculous thought that the lives they took would somehow balance out the lives they restored. Maybe if I had been there from the beginning, I could have helped them see that there was no way to control the outcome of their experiment. They were running a war room for a war that could never be won, because there simply wasn’t enough intelligence to take the attack past initial contact.
D’Kera talked about the reunificationist rallies outside the Senate, the light hitting the cliffs over the bay in the morning… but that past also included the disappearances, the midnight murders, the slaughter of journalists and artists and Navy officers who did not agree with the majority or who were deemed just a little too much to the left…
We all romanticize the past. I can talk about my parents all I like, tell the world of their kindness, their love, how close we were as a family… but as an adult, I have to also face that they knew that if something happened to them, we’d be given over to the war machine or worse. I have to reconcile the warmth I remember with the fact that they were willing and able to do that to us. D’Kera is so much in grief that she cannot see that, even if she were able to alter the supernova, that the cancer at the heart of our society was so black, so deep… she can’t see the very thing that ate her alive, that was the inspiration for her bloody career.
Yes, I’m always going to wonder. But I don’t think, in the end, that I made the wrong decision.
In that other timeline, the one I don’t remember, the one that happened only to D’Kera… I got aboard Vauthilai somehow and I executed her. I made Jack a promise, and I know that the only way I would have broken that promise is that D’Kera was successful, and that success threatened the very fabric of the universe.
You know, that makes me wonder… if she died, how does she remember?
I told D’Kera I was done with her. I don’t want her to know that I’ll be thinking about this for the rest of my life.
She rubs her temples again, as if she has a headache.
Now, it’s just all janitorial work. Find Kirina t’Nalah, find the deserters, move forward.
Forward is the only way.
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Aurelia is sitting in her ready room for this particular entry, wearing a s’Lhaihtrha-variant command uniform and nursing a steaming-hot cup of what is probably some kind of tea.
“One of the best decisions I made in my command so far was recruiting Aev i-Rhynne and pointing him towards an intelligence career path. He has a singular mind, the kind of analytical genius that the Republic needs to nurture and protect. I’ve already made sure to pass his file on to the people that need to know about him, and as long as he continues to grow in skill and perform in loyalty, it’s pretty safe to say that his future is fairly secure.
That’s good, because I need to start thinking about my own future, and that of the House. I’ve been meaning to talk to the khre’riov about pushing my career towards Romulan-Federation relations, both to keep me closer to Jack and to make my successes and mistakes of the past few years entirely worthwhile. I don’t want to leave active warbird command anytime soon, but I think getting some additional diplomatic training will be a positive thing, and an eventual entry into the diplomatic corps will move s’Veras toward further prominence and increase the reach and scope of s’Lhaihtrha. With Arrhae and Kylor rising through the warbird corps...”
She pauses, looking offscreen for a moment.
“For now, though, I’ve put in for assignment to the task force tracking down Kirina and her fleet. I doubt they’ll approve it. They don’t like my record in this matter and my personal involvement. And there were those spies I saw on Bajor, that forced my hand… But I think… that if it’s me, if I’m involved, like Rellir said…
… maybe she can still be saved. Or, at least, contained...”
“One of the best decisions I made in my command so far was recruiting Aev i-Rhynne and pointing him towards an intelligence career path. He has a singular mind, the kind of analytical genius that the Republic needs to nurture and protect. I’ve already made sure to pass his file on to the people that need to know about him, and as long as he continues to grow in skill and perform in loyalty, it’s pretty safe to say that his future is fairly secure.
That’s good, because I need to start thinking about my own future, and that of the House. I’ve been meaning to talk to the khre’riov about pushing my career towards Romulan-Federation relations, both to keep me closer to Jack and to make my successes and mistakes of the past few years entirely worthwhile. I don’t want to leave active warbird command anytime soon, but I think getting some additional diplomatic training will be a positive thing, and an eventual entry into the diplomatic corps will move s’Veras toward further prominence and increase the reach and scope of s’Lhaihtrha. With Arrhae and Kylor rising through the warbird corps...”
She pauses, looking offscreen for a moment.
“For now, though, I’ve put in for assignment to the task force tracking down Kirina and her fleet. I doubt they’ll approve it. They don’t like my record in this matter and my personal involvement. And there were those spies I saw on Bajor, that forced my hand… But I think… that if it’s me, if I’m involved, like Rellir said…
… maybe she can still be saved. Or, at least, contained...”
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There is no Aurelia in this shot - just the ready room, the citations on the wall, the picture of the little s'Veras family on the Apnex Sea.
Just the sound of glass breaking against a wall.
"HOW HARD IS IT TO KEEP TRACK OF A WARBIRD?! ESPECIALLY ONE THAT'S RIGHT OVER THE ELEMENTS-DAMNED PLANET?"
There is then a string of unpublishable and rather angry Rihan...
"IF I FIND WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS I'M GOING TO SPACE THEM! OVER DOZA! WITH JUST ENOUGH AIR TO CONTEMPLATE THEIR UTTER, DISGUSTING INEPTITUDE BEFORE THEY DIE!"
Just the sound of glass breaking against a wall.
"HOW HARD IS IT TO KEEP TRACK OF A WARBIRD?! ESPECIALLY ONE THAT'S RIGHT OVER THE ELEMENTS-DAMNED PLANET?"
There is then a string of unpublishable and rather angry Rihan...
"IF I FIND WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS I'M GOING TO SPACE THEM! OVER DOZA! WITH JUST ENOUGH AIR TO CONTEMPLATE THEIR UTTER, DISGUSTING INEPTITUDE BEFORE THEY DIE!"
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A letter, written in Rihan, sent with precision in the proper way, arrives for Andria at her officer training camp:
Daehlen Andria:
By now you have most likely pulled through the wilderness survival portion of the training, and you're heading into tactical testing and combat simulations. I would like to encourage you at this point to keep your eyes and your mind focused on the eventual prize. By now, you have discovered that rihannsu training is far different than your Starfleet -- while they intend to break you down into your central being and build up your devotion and reliance on the team around you, as Starfleet does, you have discovered, most likely, that politics, that our particular take on honor, is never far from the heart that bleeds for Rihan. Do not let it frustrate you. This is how things are. This is our way. Embrace it. Let it become part of you. Your old Starfleet-self will not understand. Your old Starfleet friends will not understand. Do not hate anything or anyone. Embrace every hardship for the lesson it is meant to teach you. You will come out of this crucible better, stronger and more capable than you ever were before. When you come back with your commission, I will share some of my stories with you, so you know you were not alone in this.
I have been in contact with many officers from Anarhai. Some have been transferred to the D'Ishae, others have gone back to the homeworld for reassignment, and some are taking medical leave. All of them are thrilled that you have chosen this path, and send their love and support. It is most likely hard to hear some of the things I know they are saying to you. Just remember that every roadblock will grant you skills and every challenge will grant you new life.
Stay strong, my friend, and we will celebrate your success when you arrive home.
Aurelia i-Atlai t'Veras
Disehrn to Khre'Riov Rellir t'Lhaihtrha
Daehlen Andria:
By now you have most likely pulled through the wilderness survival portion of the training, and you're heading into tactical testing and combat simulations. I would like to encourage you at this point to keep your eyes and your mind focused on the eventual prize. By now, you have discovered that rihannsu training is far different than your Starfleet -- while they intend to break you down into your central being and build up your devotion and reliance on the team around you, as Starfleet does, you have discovered, most likely, that politics, that our particular take on honor, is never far from the heart that bleeds for Rihan. Do not let it frustrate you. This is how things are. This is our way. Embrace it. Let it become part of you. Your old Starfleet-self will not understand. Your old Starfleet friends will not understand. Do not hate anything or anyone. Embrace every hardship for the lesson it is meant to teach you. You will come out of this crucible better, stronger and more capable than you ever were before. When you come back with your commission, I will share some of my stories with you, so you know you were not alone in this.
I have been in contact with many officers from Anarhai. Some have been transferred to the D'Ishae, others have gone back to the homeworld for reassignment, and some are taking medical leave. All of them are thrilled that you have chosen this path, and send their love and support. It is most likely hard to hear some of the things I know they are saying to you. Just remember that every roadblock will grant you skills and every challenge will grant you new life.
Stay strong, my friend, and we will celebrate your success when you arrive home.
Aurelia i-Atlai t'Veras
Disehrn to Khre'Riov Rellir t'Lhaihtrha
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(A few boxes litter the background of this fairly standard set of quarters; Aurelia and her small family are moving in. The smallest member of the family is marching around in the background, singing a variant on the Republic anthem featuring supernovas and epohhs at the top of her tiny little lungs. Aurelia, framed central, is trying her best to ignore it.)
"... mnei rheilhhu...!"
"And this week she cannot decide whether she wants to be D'Tan or a stellar cartographer. In fact, I think right now, she' s being D'Tan -as- a stellar cartographer. I did my best to instruct her about the import of what she saw at Verdes Sigma and how it relates to who we are as a family and who she is, but what happened to ch'Rihan is still more of an abstract concept than a true fact at the moment for her, and I don't want to..."
"... epohhs ssaed tehsmærrrrrrr....!!!"
"... ruin her innocence."
She pauses.
"Which brings me to Keth. I know Keth felt hurt when I told her I did not want her near Vee until she had the D'Kera personality completely under control and was no longer certifiable. She said she understood... and then turned around to say 'hello' to her, in clear and blatant violation of my request.
That kind of line-crossing is actually quite common with predators. I use it myself in my work when the situation calls for it. You can push any line you like as long as you push it slowly, quietly, create a 'new normal.' I don't want to think that she's doing this on purpose. I want to think that she simply forgot. But I'm in intelligence, and..."
"For the Republic! Eeeeeeeeee!"
"... For the love of the elements, Vee, quiet down. And that's the last bit, and the most and least surprising at the same time. I'm going to be heading up the intelligence-gathering operation that will provide the data needed to find Her. If she is a her, and not a them. The very thought sends a chill down my spine. Perhaps that is why Criminal Prime seems quite reconciled to her lot, back on mol'Rihan... because there was an Alpha, and a Beta, and a Gamma... and now with Vauthilai still missing, and myself handcuffed by circumstances on Risa..."
She looks over at Verelan, who is now playing with a three-dimensional star chart.
There are good things about this. I can openly associate with Rellir on a friendly basis again. I can devote myself fully to the search without a hundred lives counting on me. There can be a somewhat more stable home situation for Vee. There is no-one out there who knows this situation better than I. This is what I trained for. This is who I am. This is what I chose those years ago, over Jouret."
She pauses.
"This is what I want."
She does not sound convinced.
"... mnei rheilhhu...!"
"And this week she cannot decide whether she wants to be D'Tan or a stellar cartographer. In fact, I think right now, she' s being D'Tan -as- a stellar cartographer. I did my best to instruct her about the import of what she saw at Verdes Sigma and how it relates to who we are as a family and who she is, but what happened to ch'Rihan is still more of an abstract concept than a true fact at the moment for her, and I don't want to..."
"... epohhs ssaed tehsmærrrrrrr....!!!"
"... ruin her innocence."
She pauses.
"Which brings me to Keth. I know Keth felt hurt when I told her I did not want her near Vee until she had the D'Kera personality completely under control and was no longer certifiable. She said she understood... and then turned around to say 'hello' to her, in clear and blatant violation of my request.
That kind of line-crossing is actually quite common with predators. I use it myself in my work when the situation calls for it. You can push any line you like as long as you push it slowly, quietly, create a 'new normal.' I don't want to think that she's doing this on purpose. I want to think that she simply forgot. But I'm in intelligence, and..."
"For the Republic! Eeeeeeeeee!"
"... For the love of the elements, Vee, quiet down. And that's the last bit, and the most and least surprising at the same time. I'm going to be heading up the intelligence-gathering operation that will provide the data needed to find Her. If she is a her, and not a them. The very thought sends a chill down my spine. Perhaps that is why Criminal Prime seems quite reconciled to her lot, back on mol'Rihan... because there was an Alpha, and a Beta, and a Gamma... and now with Vauthilai still missing, and myself handcuffed by circumstances on Risa..."
She looks over at Verelan, who is now playing with a three-dimensional star chart.
There are good things about this. I can openly associate with Rellir on a friendly basis again. I can devote myself fully to the search without a hundred lives counting on me. There can be a somewhat more stable home situation for Vee. There is no-one out there who knows this situation better than I. This is what I trained for. This is who I am. This is what I chose those years ago, over Jouret."
She pauses.
"This is what I want."
She does not sound convinced.
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Verelan is sitting at a table, humming, making crayon drawings, kicking her legs underneath the s'Veras quarters communal table. A plate of chocolate-chip cookies sits nearby. Aurelia is wearing civilian clothes and running some sort of decryption software on a computer that's just out of camera range.
"I know I am partially to blame for Davin's downward spiral. If I had not operated like I was still an Imperial agent during my first few months here, perhaps yesterday would not have happened.
No, wait. I know that to be untrue. If you think back to the very first time the war criminal made a move against us, she used Davin's guise to make an assassination attempt against me. It has always been about Jouret and the past. She is not interested in the present at all. The only son she cares about is the little one she lost. Davin as an adult was always just a tool for her, and that would have always been self-evident. Perhaps that's partially why he's been drunk for over a week. I, at least, have memories of my mother actually caring for me.
Still. Those dark times are over, and we should never forget, but moving on with one's life is well within the realm of the possible. There is the choice of taking back one's name by doing deeds commiserate with mnhei'sahe, of changing one's name to his new House's now that Hers has been burned... and he chooses to drink. There is the choice of standing up and succeeding as a proper warbird commander... and he chooses to drink. Fvadt! He is a warbird commander, not even forty years old, and he's throwing it away! There is the choice of working with intelligence, of being smart and a proper rihannsu... and yet he chooses to drink. He lets a human make him angry, and continues to drink.
I, for one, have had it. I have presented many different options for him at many different points in the past few months, as has the khre'riov. There is not a rihannsu alive that has not experienced loss that goes beyond the pale, who wonders what could have been, who feels that yawning chasm in the soul. But most of us get through by working to build something better. Most of us are not hell-bent on destroying ourselves. There comes to a point where you either stand up despite the pain or you throw yourself in the gutter and let it kill you. I am making one choice. Davin is making another. We are not standing here, shoving the bottle down his throat; this is a choice he is making on his own.
I would tell him that his actions -- his little personal war bent on destroying something beautiful -- make him more like his mother than he would like to admit, but then, he would just attempt to punch me in the face.
Perhaps Rellir can reach him. He could have killed Jack yesterday, so I must necessarily be done with this matter.
What a fvadt shame all of this is."
"I know I am partially to blame for Davin's downward spiral. If I had not operated like I was still an Imperial agent during my first few months here, perhaps yesterday would not have happened.
No, wait. I know that to be untrue. If you think back to the very first time the war criminal made a move against us, she used Davin's guise to make an assassination attempt against me. It has always been about Jouret and the past. She is not interested in the present at all. The only son she cares about is the little one she lost. Davin as an adult was always just a tool for her, and that would have always been self-evident. Perhaps that's partially why he's been drunk for over a week. I, at least, have memories of my mother actually caring for me.
Still. Those dark times are over, and we should never forget, but moving on with one's life is well within the realm of the possible. There is the choice of taking back one's name by doing deeds commiserate with mnhei'sahe, of changing one's name to his new House's now that Hers has been burned... and he chooses to drink. There is the choice of standing up and succeeding as a proper warbird commander... and he chooses to drink. Fvadt! He is a warbird commander, not even forty years old, and he's throwing it away! There is the choice of working with intelligence, of being smart and a proper rihannsu... and yet he chooses to drink. He lets a human make him angry, and continues to drink.
I, for one, have had it. I have presented many different options for him at many different points in the past few months, as has the khre'riov. There is not a rihannsu alive that has not experienced loss that goes beyond the pale, who wonders what could have been, who feels that yawning chasm in the soul. But most of us get through by working to build something better. Most of us are not hell-bent on destroying ourselves. There comes to a point where you either stand up despite the pain or you throw yourself in the gutter and let it kill you. I am making one choice. Davin is making another. We are not standing here, shoving the bottle down his throat; this is a choice he is making on his own.
I would tell him that his actions -- his little personal war bent on destroying something beautiful -- make him more like his mother than he would like to admit, but then, he would just attempt to punch me in the face.
Perhaps Rellir can reach him. He could have killed Jack yesterday, so I must necessarily be done with this matter.
What a fvadt shame all of this is."
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