LT Ansha Wind-People, the green, sentient, Wind People fungal colony in the shape of a woman who often gets mistaken for an Orion, walks the passway leading to the USS Dragon’s transporter room. With her gracefully walks the Speaker, another Wind People who has acted as a liaison between the galaxy and the Wind People Collective since their great migration to Risa 25 years ago.
“You are still serious, right?” Ansha asked in her Punjabi accented common tongue.
“Yes, Ansha,” The speaker replied calmly. “You know it is my duty as eldest. We have used words and thoughts to discuss this.”
She sighed. “I know, I know.”
“Stop looking at death as your flesh and blood friends do, and celebrate the fact I get to choose my fate. Not to mention you will have many new cousins to be inspired to ride the star winds like you and your brothers.”
“Alright,” she said, acquising. “You are right. You are right. So can I…?”
“Yes, Ansha,” The speaker said smiling, “You may call me Kevin, now. That is the name I chose when I became a walker as is our tradition.”
“I did not get to do that, Kevin,” she said
“I know, but you were the first to ride the star winds. With firsts come breaks and starts in tradition.”
“Not like we have a lot of traditions,” Ansha replied, “I mean other than that farting noise everyone makes when someone finds a really awesome stick.”
“We still do that,” he said. “Strangely enough, males of other species seem to join us in the joy of finding a really awesome stick.”
“Well, some things are just universal,” Ansha replied.
The two continued down the passageway, reaching the transporter room and pausing just outside.
“You are still worried about being an Elder,” he said.
“Well, yeah, it is kind of a big responsibility, is it not?” she said. “Not one I was ready for. I mean, the collective looks up to you for guidance. I do not have time. All I want to be is a… Lieutenant in Starfleet. That is it. How am I going to split time between Starfleet and the Collective?”
“It is more honorific than anything. Your time spent will be minimal and can be largely satisfied over messages that ride the subspace winds, but they will request and listen to your counsel if need be.”
“Kevin, I am twenty seven years old? I am not by any means wise.”
“Maybe not in the ways I am, but you and your brothers have more experience than even me with the new world of experiences we face. That, my child, is the wisdom they will need more than my vast experience with crawling and selecting awesome sticks.”
“If you say so,” she replied. “Is the new speaker ready?”
“They are.”
“They… as in more than one?”
“Yes, we need more than one now.”
“Makes sense,” she said.
“Yes, I was thinking Charvis should come help us as well with that.”
“Whoa, Kevin,” Ansha said, shaking her head. “I love Charvis, he is a good hearted person, but that is the guy that once spent a week being fascinated by a loaf of pre-sliced bread.”
“Pre-sliced bread is fascinating.”
Ansha rolled her eyes. “Charvis, though?”
“Yes, Ansha,” The Speaker replied. “What he lacks in practical intellect, he makes up for in his knowledge of right and wrong. The tribunal feels we’ll need that more. I agree with them and so does your brother, Evoch. Our schools can handle the technical aspects of things, but we need someone to temper that with ethics and morals after I am gone. You and Evoch are needed where you are now gathering experiences most sublime. Charvis, however, is needed at the Collective.”
She sighs, “Alright well, that is out of my paygrade.” She looks at the impatient transporter technician. “So I guess this is it then?”
“Until you take the final sublime experience, which I hope is not for many years, Ansha.”
She smiles. “I am not planning on anytime soon.” she holds up her hand to which he holds up his and they touch. They both close their eyes and smile. “Thank you, Kevin. Thank you for everything you have done.”
“Thank you, Ansha,” they both lowered their hands and the Speaker walked to the pad. Stepping on to the waiting platform he turned and said, “May all your future experiences be sublime, Ansha.” He then turned to the technician with a bow and said. “I am ready.”
With that, he was gone.
She stood there for a moment staring at the empty pad until another familiar male voice called her name.
“Lieutenant Wind-People.”
She turned around to see Peter Bulloch, Captain of the SS Ontagwa Sun, holding a duffle bag on his shoulder. She smiled.
“Captain Bulloch,” she said. “How are you feeling, sir?”
“I’m tired,” he said. “I was about to head on out and get a one way ticket for the next shuttle to Earth.”
“Oh, are you not going back to the Ontagwa Sun? She’s getting cleaned up and refitted is she not?”
“She is,” he said, “but Quatta and I decided the ship needs new owners. We both decided we are done with that life. After he gets a replacement prosthetic arm he’s going back to Starfleet as a matter of fact.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Got a little place on the Florida Keys,” he said. “Just going to retire and spend my days fishing, drinking beer, and getting sunburnt” he let out a bellowing laugh which caused Ansha to laugh as well.
“Well then, I wish you the most sublime experiences with that, sir.”
“Thanks,” he said, reaching into his jacket. “Before I go, I have something for you, Lieutenant.”
Ansha was confused. “I did my job as Starfleet officer, Captain. You do not need to give me anything.”
“It has your name on it.” He handed a cap to Ansha who looked at the cover still quite confused. On the front was a patch bearing the yellow and orange sunrise crest and name of the SS Ontagwa Sun. On the back, the name, “Wind-People”, was embroidered in a matching thread to the patch on the front.
“Uhm, “ she smiled, not sure what to make of this.
“It was Meg’s,” Peter said. “I think you should have it.”
“Oh, well, are you sure?”
“Positive,” he said. “I was told you were her designated last of kin according to the Speaker.”
“Oh,” she said smiling. “I guess I am. Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said. He looked to the pad and then back her holding out a hand for a handshake. “Well, guess I need to get going now. I don’t want to miss that flight.”
She shook his hand, and then watched him walk to the pad. Within seconds he too was gone.
She looked at the cap, then put it on her head to see if it fit, which it did.
“What do you know,” she said, taking it back off to look at it. “It fits. Guess I will not need a new skull.” she snickered at the joke and went onward back to her watch station.
THE END.