Posted by Civilian Ch’otok Klrin of House Ke’dass (Grumpy Old Farmer) in The Ending of a Chapter

Posted by Civilian Cassandra Klrin of House Ke’dass (Orphanage Caretaker) in The Ending of a Chapter

Posted by Civilian Ch’otok Klrin of House Ke’dass (Grumpy Old Farmer) in The Ending of a Chapter
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻
“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

Ch’otok was in his hut, working on getting a small loaf of bread in the oven while Vetad worked the field. Big for his age (in relation to a human of silimar age. He was only 13 but given Orion physiology he was already 6’1” tall and built like a linebacker) the boy was a wonderful help, and he was eager to learn how to farm and the details of agricultural science. As he was from the town orphanage, Ch’otok saw the boy as a son of sorts, nothing so formal as an adoption, but more that the lad needed a steady hand and mentor, and the old Klingon war vet fit the bill with a mixture of strength and wisdom. As he was kneading the dough, he heard a sound that he had always dreaded hearing. A wailing cacophonous howl that shrieked through the air like a banshee with a sore throat who’d been gargling salt water laced with gravel.

He bolted to attention, and ran to the doorway, “VETAD” he bellowed in a voice so commanding it echoed through the fields as the crops themselves seemed to stand to attention. The Orion jolted to attention and ran to the hut. “Ch’otok what’s wrong?” The Klingon looked at Vetad and said in a tone serious enough to shake the most determined warriors, “It’s Zanya, I need to go. Now. Today is the day you are in charge, I know you can do this.” Vetad looked at Ch’otok with concern, “But… I don’t know as much as you, how long will you be gone? How will I take care of everything?” Ch’otok placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “No, you don’t know as much as I do, but you know more than I did when I started the farm, and you are more than capable. I will let you know when I am able to return, and please, bake the bread that’s on the counter.”

Ch’otok stepped out towards the blank field behind the hut and said “ngIl ngeD”. The Opaka decloaked, a D12 class Bird of Prey repainted in the somewhat pale red hue of Bajoran military tan offset with the panels in a light grey scattered about with Klingon emblems replaced by the Emblem of the Prohpets painted in a similar color to the robes worn by the ship’s namesake. The ship powered up slowly but surely; and while never fully offline the vessel was still indeed of an older vintage and took a few seconds longer than the impatient Klingon would have liked. Ch’otok was transported onboard and he tapped a few commands as the ship lifted from the ground and into space, the navigation system already tuned to the pinpoint location of the signal.

Vetad heard the sound of atmospheric disturbance as the ship decloaked, the release of energy back into the atmosphere making a telltale static wave that dropped in pitch before ending high static discharge. As the bird of prey lifted off the young teen stepped out of the doorway to see the ship take off as he said to no one in particular… “So the other kids were right… and no one is going to believe me!” He said before continuing in a little mocking tone “Oh Vetad…. You really saw his ship? So where is it now?” He glared at the bread on the counter and blinked a few times before dropping the angst and said, “Right! I have to get that in the oven!”

Ch’otok

OOC: Added a bunch of details!

OOC: Brian I LOVE this. The details are amazing!

The AI, Jeeves, was capable of running the shuttle and all her systems on it’s own. It could even handle taking care of both Cassandra and the small boy, but the shuttles systems weren’t configured for multiple holographic projections. Normally Cassandra was a tyrant controlling the shuttle when she was on board, but something was wrong with her. Very very wrong. Jeeves could handle basic medical issues, but he had no idea what to do for her. The lacerations and bruising, the cracked bruised bone and muscle he could handle. The apparent damage and strange scarring in her paracortex was beyond him. It didn’t appear to be life threatening because she was still stubborn and hard headed as ever.

Despite the treated wounds, sleep, and food Cassandra was still dizzy from the pounding headache, black on the edges of her vision and a constant feeling of nausea. “Mistress you must sit down.” She batted Jeeves away as she stood by the boys cot. “Is he any better?”

“No, I have given him something for the pain but it won’t help the cause. I can keep his fever down, but it won’t break. He needs more help than we can give him. Even my touch seems to cause him pain.”

Cassandra held the small boy’s hand as gently as she could. He was so incredibly little, he looked maybe 2, but Jeeves had told her his scans said he was around 5. He never tried to talk, but every once in awhile he would squeeze her hand. Eventually, desperate to help in however she could, Cassandra tried to use her telepathy to talk with him. Jeeves cursed eloquently as she collapsed in a seizure. He lifted her onto the other cot and gave her a dose of Diazepam and put a cortical monitor on her. He shook his head and pushed the engines past their safe cruising speed.

---

A day and half later, Jeeves was concerned, if an AI could be accused of such a thing. Cassandra was in and out of consciousness, her pulse and blood pressure were high but no other indications of something wrong…not since the seizure. It was the boy though. The infection was spreading, the medication they did have wasn’t keeping the fever down any longer. Jeeves had lowered the temperature around the bed to safely above freezing.

Suddenly the alarms went off, flashing a turquois klaxon around the shuttle. The sound of heavy Klingon war drums and monotonous Bajoran meditative chants filled the small cabin. Instantly, Jeeves opened the comms. The sound of Jeeves’ very formal and nasal New England accent came across the coms to the bridge of the Opaka. =/\=Shuttle Otrera to IKS Opaka. Request permission for emergency docking. I have two in need of immediate care.=/\= In the mean time Jeeves had confirmed the call registry of the ship, command codes and locked the shuttle into the control of the Opaka.

Cassandra

Ch’otok’s hand slammed down on the comms button (thank the prophets for Klingon engineering that accounted for aggressive activation of basically anything onboard for what could be up to 100 years of use) and replied with “Permission granted Jeeves, may docking be swift and trouble free”. While his response may not have sounded appropriate for the tone of the emergency, it was required to satisfy the safety protocols between the two ships. For being an old D12, the Opaka was a ship designed to run automatically with only one or two live crew. Having been retrofitted and upgraded over the years from his contacts with Ferengi magnates, Division 9, and family on the Klingon High Council. Ch’otok was never the type to throw his weight around, he was far too old for that, he did have connections that he could rely upon from time to time.

If Cassandra had been awake to hear the absolutely absurd and overly genteel response issuing from Ch’otok she would have fallen out of her chair and onto the shuttle floor laughing. In her current state she wasn’t even aware. Jeeves was very quickly able to run a voice comparison and the confirmation allowed the Opaka’s remote systems to take over the Otrera and tractor her into the small shuttle bay. Cassandra and the boy disappeared in a swirl of gold lights. Jeeves. now connected to the Opaka’s computer and able to communicate with the holographic crew quickly sent over the stats for the shuttle. Luckily there had been no fire fight - this time, but the engines were in need of attention. He’d pushed them far beyond their limits. Then as if as exhausted as his mistress, Jeeves disappeared as the Otrera’s systems powered down. The tractor beams brought her in and set her with a thud on the shuttle bay floor and a crew of three holographic engineers appeared and began to swarm over her.

As he made his way to sickbay he barked out, “Transport the sick to medical, now” and the computer replied with a chunky tone reminiscent of a worn out reverse alarm on a 1975 GMC pickup truck. Entering the room Ch’otok tapped a few buttons on a touch pad on the way in and an EMH began to materialize saying, “ ‘Iv loDnI’pu’ cho chIS hegh!” (roughly translated as ‘who bother’s me with death!’) Now, you might recall that I mentioned the upgrades, at no point did I mention that they were cutting edge or the best that money can buy, because what appeared was a 2370’s era surplus Starfleet EMH Mk-1 that was wearing Klingon medic armor (which happens to be regular Klingon battle armor with slightly smaller shoulder pads and plenty less dents) and a personality to match.

— Ch’otok

The gold lights swirled and Cassandra and the little boy appeared on two exam tables in the small medical bay of the D12. The change of lights and temperature roused warned her she was no longer in her shuttle and there was an immediate kick to her fight response. She pushed herself to sitting, only to have a very firm hand push her down and making her grown in pain. The odd looking EMH grunted in approval, “Ah you bring honor to your family!! More wounds to add to your glorious tale!!” And wounds she had. She’d obviously been in quite a fight perhaps even a prolonged one. There was something gut wrenching familiar to Ch’otok about the way the wounds were inflicted, but the EMH would be unaware.

Normally, Cassandra would curse the EMH, even in dire situations, but she simply didn’t have the energy to fight with it, or to speak. ‘Ch’otok the boy…first’ and oddly enough there was no pain from the telepathic contact.

The boy, looking about 2 years old was unconscious but twitching in pain, shivering despite a high fever. About that time the information from the Otrera appeared on the main screen of the medical bay.

Cassandra