The End of This Road [1/4 - Group One]

Posted on 11 Mar 2021 @ 12:17pm by The Narrator & Commander Kristiana Petrova & Commander Marcus Wilcox & Lieutenant Callisi Veera

2,005 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: The Quagmire

The door led to a tunnel, which was--like all the rest this group and others had seen--long and dark. There was a vague hint of light coming from places unguessed, but otherwise, there wasn't much to be seen. At the far end, there was another door. Another simple arch just cut out of the stone leading to another room. This room, however, had no glowing words or strange images. This time, there's a person. A human woman by the looks of it. She is sitting on a large chair carved out of the stone.

Even sitting, the group will be able to tell that her physique is tall and strongly built. She has long blonde hair running down over one shoulder as she lounges in the stone-chair, one arm over the leg rest. Her eyes stare at the group, one a vibrant blue and the other white with a hint of stars. She smiles as they enter.

"You made it!" she said, sounding genuinely pleased. "Welcome!"

"Made it, where?" Marcus asked cautiously, moving into the room with the group. His eyes moved around quickly about the room, trying to take in the new holding cell they had been transferred to.

Kristiana stepped forward, expression cautious, defensive. "Who are you? Where are we? Why are we here?" she asked, her tone demanding.

The woman offered a small frown, just this side of playful pout, waving her finger. "Tsk, you're guests here, you should be more polite."

Callisi stepped forward slightly, to come to more direct observation, "Very well. Hello and good welcome. Might we have your name?" she paused, "We wish to know where we are, so that we can be better accommodating as guests, and we hope you'll excuse our lack of appropriate attire, but we weren't informed what we were to be guests for." Ts'usugi had a way with protocol...

"Yeah, no. That don't fly. We're not guests, we're kidnap victims," Kris shook her head, narrowing her eyes at the woman, sizing her up. "Polite people don't go around wholesale taking people from their ships against their will and making them do tricks, making them jump through a hoop. If polite conversation's what you want, you better start with some answers."

Marcus frowned, watching his crew mates and the person who they could only assume was the puppeteer of the situation. He decided to remain silent, to see the puppeteer's next response. They still didn't have the basic answers, and there was no point in his mind of asking again.

The woman's single blue eye focused on Petrova first, but if she seemed perturbed, it didn't show. She just smiled. "Commander Petrova," she said, her deep voice forming into a perfect accent. "взять себя в руки," she said with a wink.

"I'll calm down when I have some answers," Kris replied, though the fire had gone out of her voice. "Who are you? Why are we here?" she asked, arms folded over each other.

"I know each of you," the woman replied instead, pushing herself up from the throne-like seat she had been on. Now they could see more clearly that she was wearing an old world cloak, some sort of animal fur thick around her shoulders with a chain linking across her collar bone. "Kristina Petrova. Marcus Wilcox. Callisi Veera. You are all a long, long way from home."

"Yes," Marcus replied calmly, "However you have not answered our questions. A guest is always afforded the respect of the host. May we now know who you are and why we are guests?" He asked, in the same tone of voice he always used.

"Must be cultural differences," the woman said conversationally. She waved her hand and a table appeared in the center of the room, with jugs and rough-hewn cups besides them as well as platters of food. "Eat, drink, be at ease and I'll answer all questions in due time."

While an unknown host didn't sit well with Callisi, the prospect of arguing with an entity that conjured food, refreshment, and crewmembers at a whim seemed a bit counterproductive. To that end, Callisi would allow this lapse in social etiquette to be excused. They were either dealing with a race that was on par with themselves technologically, and hid their fabricator and transporter signals well, or they were dealing with something above their notion.

She approached the table, eyeing over the offered foodstuffs and drink, before she took the notion to sample the offered banquette, as it were.

Kristiana didn't look pleased, but she sat down at the table regardless.

The woman smiled and moved to sit at the table with them, pouring something gold-colored liquid into one of the rough cups and taking a drink. "You are all a long way from home. I'm betting you don't like this reality here all that much. It is much changed."

Following suit, Marcus sat down at the table. A tiny sigh escaped him as he sat down, whether it from the sitting or the situation one couldn't tell. He pulled a dish closer to him and dished out a little food. He poured some liquid into the closest rough hewn cup, sniffing it slightly and setting it down, undecided if he wanted to try it.

Kris filled a cup as well, sniffing the liquid and contemplating for a moment before taking a sip. She closed her eyes, letting the taste linger, a soft smile briefly showing. "Smooth, sweet. Lightly alcoholic I'd say. Mead. Good quality too," she mused, opening her eyes again, giving the woman a nod.

"Only the best for my guests," the woman said easily. "Now, please. Tell me about your homes. I want to know more about where you've come from."

"Ts'usu is a promise. A world we look to return to." Callisi started, "Until we are ready to return, we live on her moons: Aimi, Akami, and Akiko. In the warmer months, the trees blossom and the petals fall, turning the grass into seas of color. Rolling hills gave way to farming towns, or sprawling cities that reached the heavens. Streaks of light from commercial shuttles would look like shooting stars across the night sky." the cyclopean rabbitess continued. "In the colder months, maybe it snows. We'd build snowmen, or if we ever got enough, a whole fort. With guards, of course." she smirked.

"We'd all keep time through a local system, since even in the middle of the day if the moon you were on dipped behind the homeworld then no matter what time it was, it just became night. I grew up in one of the cities, so I never had more than a park to play in when I was young. I'd visit a friend in the outskirts, and we'd get into no end of trouble if we were caught playing where we shouldn't. There's a flower that grows in the fields, called a Nightwarden. Though, all the kids call it the Tattle Tale, since the pollen from it glows blue, and is practically impossible to get out of cloth or fur without effort." she shook her head, "All it took was one blue paw, or shoe, and you were done for." she actually giggled softly. "We control eleven systems, but there's no place like home." she admitted, and hid her face behind the crude mug for a moment. "Talking about it out loud just reminds me of how far away it is."

“My home is wherever I am,” Marcus replied after. “Born on a starbase, raised on bases and ships. I go where life takes me.”

The nameless woman put her elbows on the table, leaning forward to rest her chin on her hands as if wistful. "I am more familiar with that sort of life," she said with a nod toward Marcus, but then looked at Callisi. "Yours sounds like it would have been wonderful."

"Still is. Just because it's beyond my reach does not mean it is gone." Callisi responded, putting a hand over the center of her chest, "Ts'usu is here."

An uncomfortable silence fell, with eyes on Kristiana. She wasn't looking forward to sharing her history with this strange woman she didn't even know the name of, but she felt she had to at least lead by example, and giving the woman attitude and demanding answers hadn't worked either. So with another swig of her mead to give herself some courage she spoke.

"I grew up on a farm near Vengerovka, a small village in the Russian countryside. Grew up a tomboy. Hunting, horseriding, picking fights with the farm hands. Usually coming out on top, too. Usually," she spoke, her stare mostly focused on the drink rather than the other people. "Father always wanted a son, not a daughter. Never forgave me for not being what he wanted. Never forgave me for joining Starfleet instead of taking over the farm. Never forgave me for being out on the ass end of Federation space when mom died and missing her funeral. Th' farm passed to me when he died. Probably robbed clean of anything valuable or useful by now. Don't s'pose any of the animals are still alive either."

Callisi broke the silence after a moment, "And Vengerovka is here. As is that starbase." the cyclopean rabbitess gave Marcus a nod, "We are travelers far from home, but wherever we are we bring our home with us. For better, for worse. With ease, or with hardship. Home is where we are. Home is what we leave behind. Home is what we'll see again."

"God, I hope not," Kris grumbled. "I went to space to get away from them. From there."

Heterochromatic eyes swung between them. "So you wouldn't wish to return to the universe you knew before?"

Kris felt that was directed at her first and foremost, since she had expressed the most dissatisfaction with her home. "No, I do. I've carved out a life there. It's not much, but it's mine. I have responsibilities there. I have friends there. There's pain, bad memories, sure - but good ones too."

“Tell us about your home,” Marcus asked, hoping once again to get the enigmatic questioner to shed some light with answers.

"I don't really have one," the woman admitted with something that seemed like sorrow for the first time since they'd found her. She pushed away from the table and got to her feet, taking a few steps away. After a moment, she turned and looked at them again. The sadness was gone. "I'm fascinated by yours, however, and I'd like to help you. You just have one last riddle to solve...

"...who am I?" Light flashed in her dual-colored eyes as she smiled, holding her arms out to the side and waiting.

"Old Earth, Nordic pagan style of dress and hair, one eye out hints at Odin, but you're female. Big interest in the crew of the USS Odin, kinda adds credence to that line of thought." Kris considered, rubbing her chin a moment. "I have a suspicion as to who you are, but am thinking you want us to guess who you're meant to be. So - Freya?"

"Close," the woman said. "Very close...but not quite. You were closer when you started. Remember that gender was never all that set in stone for the gods."

"A god then." Callisi offered. "I only know of two. The divine concept of the Emperor, which we're working to move away from, and the Dalacari central divine figure of Dia. You're obviously neither of these." the cyclopean rabbitess mentioned. The 'One Eye' mention stung her a bit less than she expected. Helped that it wasn't directed at anyone. Just casual words, Callisi. Nothing to get defensive over.

"The only other name I could guess personally would be that of the ship, making you some form of namesake. Odin." she ventured.

The woman grinned. "You've said the magic word!" She clapped her hands. "And your prize..." Any other words were lost as the world turned white.

 

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