“Jeeves!” A shimmering form appeared. A middle aged man in a tux and tails. “Yes Mistress Cassandra?” She stumbled into the mostly powered down shuttle, slamming a hand against the hatch control panel, carrying a small bundle. Bare feet sticking out and head lolling backwards over her arm. The small form was shivering and whimpers tore from his throat, that was dry and scratchy. “I need a full bio scan Jeeves. Hurry up!”

She pulled a lower cot down with one hand and laid a small boy with dark brown hair that was dirty and matted. His caramel skin was a sickly color and even the slightest touch of hand or cloth had him writing in pain. “Mistress Cassandra you are bleeding. Sit down.” The man was very formal and proper. “I can take care of me, help him!” She collapsed back against the opposite bench and pulled and tugged out a med kit. She stripped off the torn and bloody shirt, and it dropped from numb fingers. Bandages, antiseptic, and a shot of a low grade painkiller, and some strong antibiotics and anti-inflammatory, she was slowly slipping on an extra shirt.

The ship’s hologram was standing by the small boy. “What is it? What’s wrong with him?” The man turned and looked at her. “Malnutrition, dehydration, vitamin deficiencies. Infections from cuts and scraps. He’s dirty and too thin.” If the man wasn’t a hologram she’d knock him out. “Yes I know.”

“I’m sorry Ms Cassandra. It’s meningitis. We don’t have medicine on the shuttle for that. And it’s contagious.” She shrugged, “All my shots are up to date. Can you synthesize the medicine?” The hologram slowly nodded his head considering, “If I had the file, but I would have to break radio silence to access the Star Fleet Medical database.” Cassandra stared out the shuttle window. “Take off Jeeves. Get us out of here. Head straight for Delotha.” The hologram nodded and the shuttle began hum and then lift off the ground. The hologram was integrated to all ship’s systems and it responded immediately. “Ms Cass you must sit down.” She shook her head, and took a cloth and water from the replicator. Her own vision was tinged hazy and dark and she felt like her stomach would expel food that wasn’t in it. And the shuttle spun wildly. But still she stood and carefully cleaned the dirt from the small face and between the subtle but proud brow ridges of the half-Klingon boy. “Shh..it’s alright, you’re safe now.” She sang softly, her own words slurring. She reached down and for the first time she pressed as small button on the dark purple stone on her bracelet.

Inside the Opaka the red klaxons began to sound and a corresponding alarm blared loudly on the desk in the small farmers hut. Loud enough that even at the far end of his fields, Ch’otok would hear.

Cassandra