<USS Atlantis> "Vampire Pt III"
- From: "Tempest Rainbird" <counselortempest@xxxxxxx>
- To: "USS Atlantis" <ussatlantis@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Mon, 21 Jan 2002 12:53:52 -0800
Vampire Pt III
Lieutenant Commander Merienn Kiela
Personal Log: 0101.21
The first rays of morning cast themselves fitfully through the
polished glass window and onto the mass of tangled black hair that shrouded
Keila's face from their light. Their playful journey led them to bejewel a
fallen tear, then cast the black and purple rose of a bruise into the light of
day that never should have seen it.
What deeds were done in darkest night could not be chased away by the
light of day. What right, indeed, did that righteous light have to illuminate
the dark doings? Better to leave them unknown and unexpressed... shrouded...
Keila lifted her head, neck arched like a bird, and closed the shades
so that the tenacious rays were directed toward the floor. Banging her fist on
the glass pane, she slid pack into a prone position, and closed her eyes
against the intrusion of the sun.
The frenzied note in Kiela's voice was barely disguised and she
jammed her palm against her communicator. "Starbase Earheart. One to beam up."
In the morning, T'shara was there like the sun in the door,
cheerful and bright. "So," she asked warmly, sitting next to Kiela on the bed
as she twined her long hair into braided coils. "If you're not spending your
shore leave ensconced in Tarine's resort hotel room," she paused and grinned,
"...or in his arms, can I convince you to come to the stables with Juli and I?
We're going to practice our 'riding skills'... last time we were on-planet she
beat me in a race, and I'm going to make sure it doesn't happen again."
"Thanks, T'shara, but I don't think so," Kiela replied, the wan,
half-smile still pasted falsely across her lips.
"Then what are you going to do?" T'shara asked with exaggerated
concern. "Spend the day meditating and praying?"
"Why not? I've offended the prophets by losing my earring, haven't
I?" Kiela had meant her tone to be light and playful, but she could hear the
undercurrent of her bitterness through the easy banter.
"Prophets, schmophets," T'shara mocked with a pout. "I need *someone*
from Halcyon to be there to witness my victory over Juli."
"And I thought you might want me there for the pleasure of my
company."
"The pleasure of your company? Why would I want that?"
Kiela forced her features into a compliant expression of amusment,
but T'shara's jest was ill-timed.
"Flattering as that is," she said far too quietly for the jesting
words, "I think I'd better attend to some other things." Kiela's fingers
unconciously traced the line where the dermal regenerator had sealed her split
lobe. It was barely perceptible, even to her expectant touch. "Thanks for the
help, T'shara. You know you've got a true friend when someone's willing to
brave sickbay to steal a dermal regenerator for you." She leaned in to hug her
friend.
Leaning into the embrace, T'shara replied, "You'd do the same for me,
right?" Glancing at the time, she sighed. "I suppose I'd better get down to
that resort of Juli's if I'm going to get my horse saddled up in time for the
afternoon hike. I I don't care what the people at the resort say, I swear last
time she bribed them to make sure I got the horse with the most tangles in its
tail." She laughed. "I'll see you when we get back to the Halcyon, Kiela."
Kiela nodded. But she doubted she would.
It was night, of course, when the Vampire's fate changed. The dying
golden rays of sunlight could be seen boiling away into space behind Titan's
dusty horizon through the observation port in the back of the office Gem and
Tim -- no, Kiela chastened herself, too much familiarlity for an ex-crewmember
-- Admiral Rhee and Commander Ryan, had set up shop in while the Halcyon was in
for repairs at Starbase Earheart.
"We'll be sad to see you go, of course," Admiral Rhee said with a
swish of purple velvet skirts.
Commander Ryan nodded. "There's nothing we can do to convince you to
stay?"
Kiela shook her head. She'd spent the day as T'shara had mockingly
suggested, in meditation, using the bright, diamond points of the stars as her
center rather then the nebulous guidance of the prophets. Each star she looked
at brought back a bitersweet chain of reminiscences, but each sang the same
message clearly through the void. Kiela's time on Halcyon was over.
"We'll give you the best recommendation we can," Gem said, putting
down a padd with Kiela's record on it and regarding Kiela directly with her
honest, sapphire eyes. "You've done good work on the Halcyon. I'm sure
Starfleet Command will weigh that against your previous record, and some
Commanding Officer will doubtless be willing to take you on."
Kiela nodded in acknowledgement. She glanced out the observation port
at the descending blanket of darkness that wrapped the visible portion of the
planet below, then back at Admiral Rhee and Commander Ryan. "I'd appreciate it
if you didn't let on this transfer was voluntary," she ventured.
Commander Ryan nodded. "We can do that."
"Thank you." Kiela managed a Starfleet smile: a delicate blend of
gratitude and propriety.
Commander Ryan looked to Admiral Rhee, and she nodded. Seeming to
have decided this impromptu meeting was at an end, the two stood up. Commander
Ryan straightened to attention, and Kiela followed suit. "It's been an honor
serving with you, Ensign." He snapped an uncharacteristic salute.
"And with you, sir," Kiela answered, saluting in return.
Commander Ryan spared her a smile, then slackened, and grabbed a mug
from the conference table before launching into an animated conversation with
Admiral Rhee.
Kiela turned and let the doors to the office hiss closed on her time
on the Halcyon... and her time with Tarine.
Kiela sat surveyed the bridge like a bird-of-prey, swiveling eyes
never blinking. It seemed to Kiela her entire life had been spent running from
something. As an infant, her mother had run from the horrors of the Occupation,
and Kiela had been brought unwittingly along. Since that time Kiela had been
running desperately from that choice, from her shame and from her own
conscience. So much running was tiring.
But what was the alternative? To hide.
Disguises and masks, it seemed to Kiela, were always penetrated
eventually. Her records were sealed, her Cardassian brand put down on her
record as a Risan tattoo, but nevertheless some small hint unfailingly betrayed
her for what she was. More often then not, this was her own drive to seek
expurgation and compassion. The masquerader that tears away his own disguise
has only himself to blame when his fellow dancers recoil from the hideousness
of his true face.
But while the disguises lasted, they were Kiela's solace. The Halcyon
Days had indeed been halcyon, but now they were over.
Now she was on Atlantis: the sunken enigma haunted by the ghosts of a
crew lost to Dominion hands. A Ghost ship.
A Vampire on a Ghost ship. Even Kiela had to admit the situation had
a certain irony.
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