The Ansha Tales: Oh Brother…

Holodeck Short Stories
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The Ansha Tales: Oh Brother…

The list and order of stories about the loss of the USS Ecstasea…

Stardate: 101075.2, January, 28th, 2425 - Dirba, Sikhistan District, Earth

“I do not really like you here,” Dr Vakmar Talle Singh said as he glared at the former Tal Shiar assassin turned speaker for the Wind People Collective, “but you are Ansha’s biological relation and now apparently a diplomat so I just say this, Evoch; I will be watching you.”

Evoch smiled obligingly. “Doctor,” he began cordially in his usual fancy brogue, “I assure you, I will not be a problem and my visit is not with the intent for any kind of skullduggery. Now, I appreciate your… hospitality, as much as you have offered, and I will not be a burden. I simply want to visit with my sister and then I shall take my leave.”

Dr Vakmar Talli Singh glared at Evoch for an awkwardly long time, until his wife Veema walked in.

“Charvis was rather nice,” she said coldly as she passed through on her way to the kitchen. This prompted Evoch to speak.

“Yes, Charvis is such a wonderful person,” Evoch replied, trying to make pleasant conversation. No one else picked up on the queue, which began another long staring session. To Evoch’s relief, Ansha came into the drawing room and smiled.

“Evoch,” she said. “It is so good to see you!” Like the rest of the family she was wearing the local garb and spoke with a thick Punjabi accent. The light weight fabric made her look as though she was gliding into the room. She approached Evoch, who stood up and smiled warmly. The two touched hands and shared, with her showing a hesitation to do so. He nodded and smiled understandingly at her then his face morphed into an expression of shock.

“Oh,” he said, “I want to hear all about this encounter with the tardigrade. That would be such a relief for the rest of the collective.”

“Yes,” she replied, “but there is a lot to unpack and you have something pressing on your mind that you are not sharing outright. Must mean it is a ‘doozy’” She turned to her adoptive father, Dr Talli Singh, and spoke in Punjabi.

“{Papa, we will go to the garden to talk.}”

Evoch awkwardly fidgeted while the two talked.

“{Be careful with this one. I still do not trust him. He may say he has reformed but he has much blood on his hands.}”

“{Papa, please, it will be fine. That was an old life he has left behind.}”

“Yes, really,” Evoch finally replied in Federation Common, “I did leave that old life behind me and I swore never to kill anyone again.”

Both Ansha and Vakmar looked at Evoch.

“Wait,” Ansha said, “You understand Punjabi?”

“Well, yes,” Evoch replied. “I figured it would be handy to know when I visit my sister.” Ansha shrugged and rolled her eyes and Vakmar still glared as he explained. “I do have trouble with the pronunciations though.”

“Anyway,” Ansha said with a smile, “Let’s go talk.” She grabbed his hand and led him through the kitchen and past Veema, who regarded Evoch with indifference. Evoch smiled sheepishly and waved with his loose hand at her, which garnered little more than an eyebrow raise. She turned back to preparing dinner as they passed through the back door.

“You know, Ansha, I think they are warming up to me,” Evoch said.

“It went much better than last time,” Ansha replied as she led him to a spot where she had been spending most of her time during the day.

It was sunny today. A refreshing change from the recent cloudy Winter days. The garden was environmentally shielded which was something Vakmar and Veema did for Ansha’s sake, given her sensitivity to temperature and humidity, but at Ansha’s insistence the light was left natural. Only the vegetable garden would have artificial light, something that Veema insisted upon.

A small sitting area that Ansha had built years ago with Vakmar’s assistance sat to the side of the garden. It was paved with circular bricks, surrounded by plants and flowers of all types, complete with two stone benches that sat under a tree. Ansha referred to it as her own little Grove of the Sweet Wood, which was the ancestral home area of her species that was now a desolate wasteland.

“This is absolutely gorgeous, Ansha,” Evoch said as he looked at the beautiful surroundings. “The colors are so… delicious and familiar. If I close my eyes, I can almost put myself back there… back to our home. It makes me sad in a way.”

“Why is that?” she asked with a concerned look on her face.

“Because we will never see the Grove with our own eyes,” he replied. “To see colors with these focusing lenses we use now is so much more visceral.”

“I guess that is true,” she said. “It was as close as I could get. Jarkael helped. You know he did see it with his eyes, and I do have the flora and fauna record samples that were taken by Nashal Bast and company.”

“Regardless, it is magnificent in its own right, sister,” Evoch replied with a smile.

Ansha beamed proudly and said a pert “Thank you” as she rocked on her heels for a bit which caused her low, wooden, wedge heels to tap heel first on the brick below. “Mama and Papa helped me. I think it came out really well.”

“You seem a lot happier than you were a week ago during our subspace transmission,” Evoch said as he sat on one of the benches. “When I just now shared with you, you seemed to have transitioned from gloom and doom to some degree of pleasant self-absolution.”

“Getting there,” she said, taking a seat across from Evoch. “I do feel better. I have been talking to a Starfleet counselor at DS-13. I am glad I did. She had some very useful things to say.”

Evoch shrugged and said, “Alright, well, I guess if it helps it helps. You really need to wrangle these emotions.”

“Says the one that was raised by Romulans, hello?”

Evoch smiled and shook his head.

“Yes, well that’s where I saw the logic in embracing some of Sarek’s teachings. Not all of them, mind. I find most Vulcans to be so stoically dull and lifeless. You should try the meditations, though. I do believe you were taught them in your youth, weren’t you? One of Jarkeal’s associates, right?.”

“Yes, his name was Davak,” she replied. “I guess it could not hurt, but some things do need to be dealt with head on.” Ansha changed tack. “So enough about that. What are you barely holding back from me? So needlessly cryptic.” She rolled her eyes and smiled.

He stood up, looked around as though he were making sure no one was in ear shot, moved to sit next to Ansha, then put up his hand to her for a share, and said, “Here’s the rest.” She was hesitant but carefully placed her hand on his. Her eyes grew wide and her expression melted to concern.

“Please explain,” she said after retracting her hand.

“I don’t have many contacts anymore over there,” he began, almost whispering. “Many have been purged, but I’ve heard… whispers and allegations, if you will, that Tal Shiar agents were responsible for that murder at Drozana and that it may have a connection to the loss of your ship.”

“What?!” she asked in disbelief.

“Hear me out, please. I decided to go to Drozana and look for myself,” he continued, “and lo and behold it does have all the hallmarks of a Tal Shiar job.”

“But I thought that murder was done by the nephew?”

“No, no, you see for one thing, we were always taught that if we were not sending a message, that we needed to make it look like an accident or look like someone else’s fault. There were many other things about that murder, and the accusation of the nephew that just didn’t sit right with me.”

“For one,” he said, shifting to turn closer inward, “the injury was a single stab wound to location that, if hit correctly, results in instant death for most Ferengi. Also, I tasted the hint of ambergris and cinnamon, with a slight, almond finishing note in the air when viewing the body. Scent combinations that I have not experienced in many years.”

“Like a poison or something?” she asked.

“Yes, dear sister, poison. One specifically formulated to kill Ferengi, then break down to smell like a particular condiment that is popular in their cuisine named Fetran.”

“Alright, well if the condiment was so popular wouldn’t the simple answer be that this Ferengi had used that condiment on his food?”

“Yes,” he said. “Occam’s Razor as the Humans call it, must be taken into consideration, however, I glanced at his medical records. Both he and the nephew are allergic to that condiment. Both of them break out in hives, and his skin was clear. I also checked his establishment, which was of course ’secured’ pending investigation, and there were no open vials of Fetran to be found amongst their personal living effects.”

“Still very circumstantial, Evoch,” she answered. “And you think that had something to do with the attack on the USS Ecstasea? I know for a fact it was the Hirogens who attacked us.”

“Circumstantial until you have more pieces to this puzzle,” he said, “then you begin to see more of the picture.

“You still love to hear yourself talk,” she stated. He simply smiled. “I really wish you would get on with this and skip a lot of the exposition.”

“Well, my dear, I am a speaker now,” Evoch said jokingly. “I like telling the story in my way so the points don’t get lost in translation. Following the trail, and justifying the logic. So, where were we? Ah yes, condiments and the lack thereof. So, a precision stab wound to a vital location on a Ferengi, potentially backed up by a poison, which are things not done in the heat of passion as the local Drozana constabulary is claiming. No, on the contrary. It was planned and to me it has all the hallmarks of an assassination. Clearing a path if you will to the desired target? Or maybe a punishment for lack of compliance with a request. ‘What would that request and/or target have been?’, I asked myself, placing my mindset back into that dark time.”

“And…?” Ansha asked impatiently.

“I had started working on a little trajectory math prior to this visit, compensating for gravitation pull, etcetera etcetera, taking into account how close you were to Drozana station, and then happened to glance at the flight logs of the scavenger ship used by that Ferengi merchant and his technologically knowledgeable nephew, and what do you know, there was a very good possibly that specific armored and ruggedized debris that might have survived the matter/anti-matter blast that doomed your ship and ended up in their path.”

Ansha pondered this for a second and then said, “You are not thinking they found the datacore… are you?”

“I’m saying there’s a good chance,” Evoch replied.

“Alright,” Ansha inquired, “but why would these hypothetical murderers want that datacore… from a Miranda class? By now they should know everything about a Miranda class. Anything else would be hours and hours of gravitation wave data that would be publicly released anyway. ”

“They wouldn’t want it for that data, they want to keep something else that might show up from Starfleet. They already know what tales it might tell.”

“And you think that they had something to do with the Hirogens attacking the Ecstasea?”

“Well, seeing as Hirogens don’t normally have access to shipwide cloaking devices, preferring instead boots on the ground for the more… intimate experience, and their ships are merely a means of transport, I would say that was the first clue.”

“Wait, how did you know about them being cloaked?”

“Word gets around in certain circles,” Evoch said, checking his manicured fingernails for scuffs.

“My command still does not fully accept that.”

“But I do,” he said, shifting his gaze back to Ansha. “From what you shared your tactical officer yells out about a contact suddenly appearing on your port beam. What I felt from your experiences is that, while she can be a prickly sort, she is a dedicated and attentive officer, diligent in her duties. A cloaked ship suddenly appearing is the only way a surprise attack of this nature makes sense. She would have seen a Hirogen hunting frigate if it had approached uncloaked.”

“Well, yes, Evoch. Lieutenant Solla is a great tactical officer and I think she would have too. I get the feeling the command doesn’t fully accept that.”

“They cannot see what I see,” Evoch said. “They do not know what I know.”

“Now to continue. Even then, Ansha, with your attention and sensors concentrating on your task at hand of gravitonic mapping, I believe there’s a possibility that if they were using an inferior cloaking such as one of those used by the Klingons, that your people might have seen something amiss that would have raised suspicions. No, they had something special order. As it stands, I think with a detailed analysis, more so than the Miranda class’ computers could do at that moment, we would see the infantismal details indicating their approach, and perhaps… something more, like someone else watching to make sure things go as planned which is standard operating procedure for Tal Shiar when working with less sophisticated resources.”

Ansha stared at Evoch in disbelief. He raised his eyebrows and said, “What questions are crossing your mind?”

“Tal Shiar? At this point, what does it matter?” she asked. “They won. A ship was destroyed, lives were lost. I just cannot figure out why they do that? Revenge? I mean the whole stealing Klingon ships to attack us after the plot to give me nightmares still seems like insanity. But why me? Why our ship? Why risk provoking another war so close after losing the last one?”

“First of all, Ansha, they probably believe you to be an easy target. A young officer, eager and new, placed in command of an antiquated ship, and one that is routinely sent on cake-walk missions. Why twice I do not know, but perhaps that was merely opportunity and placement. I do not believe it was a personal vendetta.”

“Second, the Romulan Star Empire doesn’t want a direct conflict. They can’t fight that fight. They want chaos. They want your Federation to be in conflict with someone else, which might sow the seeds of political upheaval, giving them the chance to operate without scrutiny.”

“Operate to do what though? From the reports I have read they will be many years from becoming anywhere near to being as powerful as they were before the last war.”

“For the Ancien Régime,” Evoch said in a French accent, “political might is as powerful if not more so than military might. To show a confused and destabilized Federation once again in conflict would work well in their favor. It also would draw resources from the Republic, which would give them influence with those people, assuming the memories of recent cruelty are short lived or transgressions can be blamed on some few miscreants that have been dealt with.”

“Undoubtedly, sister,” he continued, “your ship was not their only target. It just happen to be at the wrong place at the right time.”

She sat there in silence, looking at nothing, and pondering all that Evoch had just said. Her mouth was agape as she struggled to come up with something to say.

“So,” she said, almost thinking out loud, “the datacore still needs to be found to prove or disprove this, which even if it has been found, it may or may not still have any damning revelations.”

“Precisely,” he replied.

“Starfleet would not approve such a mission,” she said. “Not on a long shot like that.”

“I don’t expect they would.”

“I am not going to go get it. I am expected back at the station in a few days. I have to move on.”

“Of course, Ansha. I’m not expecting you to go after it either.”

“You cannot either,” she looked at him, her eyes wide, “As a speaker you must remain outwardly neutral.”

“Yes,” he replied. “I’m well aware of that.”

“So what is the point behind all this postulation?”

“A pretense? A warning, Ansha? A warning for this whole quadrant. A sign that they are not idly sitting there licking their wounds, but rather trying other strategies and machinations."

He shifted to face a rose bush that was being frequented by honey bees and continued. “The hive does not give up when the Winter chill comes here, does it? It finds any opportunity to continue doing what it must to survive.”

“Look, Ansha,” he said, turning to face her, “I do not care for your Federation anymore than I care for the Klingon Houses, Romulan Republic, or anyone else more than I care for the idea of peace and freedom for all good peoples regardless of the flags they salute. I care more about our people to be honest. Our species, the Khaiell Rhadai, the Wind People, the Aukle-Wiish, SIchghach venguye’, or whatever the galaxy calls us. I care about us. A conflict for one affects all, it is especially hardest those of us in the margins, the fragile, the struggling to survive, like us, that are most at risk of losing everything we have worked for, just for the sake of someone else’s conflict.”

“So why tell me?” Ansha asked. “Why not take this to the Federation?”

“Because they don’t trust me, and also… because I also love you, my sister. No matter what flag you salute, I still care about you, and I know that you are a good person, a great officer, and someone who is a role model to our people. You deserve every bit of absolution that this universe has to offer. If my hunch is true, this injustice cannot stand unpunished. As an added bonus, if it is in fact a scheme of the Star Empire then any chance I get to humiliate my former masters is an opportunity I cherish.”

He gently placed his hand under her chin and guided her head to face him and smiled warmly. “Turn whatever remaining guilt you still harbour into anger, Ansha, and know that if this is true, then I, the Khaiell Rhadai, will bring honor to your name, and avenge your crew, not for Starfleet, but for you.” With that, he leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead.

He retracted his hand from her face then stood up and said, “No one harms a Wind People and gets away with it.”

“What will you do?” she asked. “Bring down an entire empire?”

“If I must. I did bring down an Oligarch,” he replied. He straightened his coat and gave a quick bow. “Now, I must go,” he said looking back at both Veema and Vakmar looking at him from the kitchen window. He smiled at them and waved, which was not reciprocated. “I think I overstayed my welcome at this point.”

“Evoch, please be realistic. What happened to controlling emotions?”

“Oh, don’t worry. Bringing down the Ancient Regime is for the most part hyperbole. I am not going to do anything rash, I promise. I do have our people’s best interest to worry about first. Now, I have some calls to make. In the meantime, you just go do your Starfleet things and keep your chin up. Alright? When I have something more substantial, I will call you back.”

Evoch turned and headed for a side gate, leaving Ansha in a silent stare as he walked out of the garden. Just then a hummingbird hawk moth landed on her hand. She stared at the moth, then quickly back to the now closing gate, then back to the moth.

“…but I have promises to keep,” she said as though it were an affirmation, “and miles to go before I sleep.”

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