Kahs-Wan

[Sorehl 0]

Sorehl leaned forward in his folding chair, using a poker to prod the burning wood. In response, the contents of the massive copper firepit crackled loudly, wafting a cloud of embers skyward. The warmth of the blaze staved off the cool, misty air of Avalon which descended as night fell outside his planet-side home.

 

He eased back, setting the poker to rest against the rough hewn surface of the Vulcan flagstone that paved the overlooking terrace. On his lap, an infant boy waggled his arms, fascinated by the dancing flames. Sorehl turned his eyes toward the horizon, his poor night vision straining against the fading twilight. No other lights interrupted the unbroken night.

 

“She is out there, my son,” he spoke in assuring tones to the child. “She may simply be too far for us to see her own fire.”

 

Though his eyes had not evolved to deal with such poorly lit environments, his ears had no trouble discerning the footfalls approaching behind him. He could even recognize the hem of her robe gliding gently against the coarse rock.

 

Ambassador T’Salik touched his shoulder. “On the other hand,” she noted, “she may simply be too involved in examining some native fauna to notice the diminishing light. She does seem to have inherited an overdeveloped single-mindedness to that which holds her momentary fascination.”

 

“A distinct possibility,” Sorehl agreed.

 

He was not concerned about his eldest daughter’s ability to start a fire. In the months preceding the ritual test of her kahs-wan, they had worked together to master this basic survival skill. It had been a skill he himself had not learned until much older, having been able to rely on the presence of lava-fields near the Plains of Gol during his own pre-teen ordeal. Even then, dissuading predators had been the primary concern, not the need for warmth. Ten days alone in the wastelands of Vulcan were far different than ten days in the wilderness of Avalon.

 

T’Kel was now on her ninth.

 

His wife took the empty chair beside the fire, setting a display pad down on the small circular table between them. Sorehl glanced down at the PADD, inclined his head toward her, and raised an eyebrow.

 

“The Dominion have reported the defection of another Vorta and his supporting forces to the Hundred,” T’Salik related.

 

“That sounds like information they’d be interested in containing,” he observed, “rather than reporting.” Thusfar, the uneasy leaders of the Vorta Council had managed to suppress the knowledge that they’d lost all means of contacting – even of finding – the Founders. Keevan and Taenix maintained that knowledge would lead to complete destabilization in the quadrant, wide-scale violence, and dangerous reactions from the Jem’Hadar. It remained a volatile subject that he and his wife wouldn’t even discuss aloud outside a secure facility.

 

T’Salik nodded, almost imperceptibly. “They could hardly avoid it,” she revealed. “The Vorta in question made an official declaration of allegiance over their own network. He even urged several planetary systems to join him through acts of civil disobedience.”

 

His son started to tug against his father’s beard. “Non-violent resistance,” Sorehl summarized, gently extracting Sawyek's fingers from his graying whiskers. “At least Semil is adhering to his promises.”

 

“For the moment,” T’Salik agreed. “It seems equally clear that, if they weren’t threatened by further defections to the Hundred, the Dominion would be disinclined to allow the Scorpiad to avoid reparations for the invasion.”

 

Sorehl bounced the child in his lap. “A tenuous truce,” he mused aloud.

 

“It was our only means of crafting such a swift agreement,” she admitted. “Not ideal, but it has turned their self-interests toward a cessation of hostilities.”

 

“Or at least a lull before the next round,” Sorehl countered. He did not mean to be cynical, but he’d already devoted too much of his intellect toward making war. His wife had played no small part in the loose armistice. Although she had been their prisoner, the Scorpiad considered her their only diplomatic in-road. Ambassador N’Kedre, on the other hand, had built on her rescue of the Vorta Council during the Scorpiad decapitation attack, overcoming the Dominion’s negative feelings toward the Romulan invasion of T’Rogora. With grudging respect from the Hundred, K’Vorlag was still hammering out the details of what might become formal treaties.

 

For their efforts, N’Kedre’s government had all but abandoned the quadrant, K’Vorlag had been promoted to command a dwindling Klingon presence, and T’Salik had been reduced in role by the arrival of more senior ambassadors. An organized pull-out, Sorehl mused inwardly, while they hope for the best. Would the Gamma Quadrant become another languishing Cardassia?

 

By now, T’Salik was looking out at the horizon. “I’m told Excalibur was heavily damaged,” she observed.

 

Sorehl tilted his head toward her, aware that the ship’s extended disappearance had parallels to their daughter’s absence.

 

“Yes,” he agreed. “They’ve been recalled to Starfleet Headquarters.”

 

“They consider the transdimensional issue of that much importance?” she asked.

 

Sorehl shifted his son to the other knee. “No,” he explained, “I suspect there may be some plan as to Excalibur’s role in maintaining this tenuous balance you’ve crafted.”

 

T’Salik considered her husband’s remark. “I see,” she answered tersely. “It would seem we all have new roles to contend with.”

 

“Myself included,” he agreed.

 

“Then… you’re going with them.” It was a statement, rather than a question.

 

With such frequent sharing of minds, he had never kept personal thoughts from her. She knew full well the concerns that had challenged his thoughts. She knew what he’d done in the intervening months to get Excalibur back. She knew about his experience at the wormhole and the call of his other duties in the Alpha Quadrant. “I must pursue it,” he confirmed. “I will talk with Admiral Saylek first, then hear what the elders have to say; I will take no action we have not already considered.”

 

She leaned back, considering.

 

He watched the firelight dance across her delicate features and how it gave a glow to her light hair. They had been together through his years commanding Aegis, their family kept apart only by his brief imprisonment and her later detainment on Betazed during the war. There had been the post-war years at Empok Nor, trying to give the Cardassians a means to rebuild themselves. Then nearly three years laboring together in the Gamma Quadrant. Truly it had been the logical thing to marry her on that same day twenty-eight years ago.

 

Off in the distance, he saw with a pleasure he would not admit, a flickering light beginning to sparkle brightly on the horizon.

Edited November 12, 2007 by Sorehl

[Semil 0]

“Non-violent resistance,” Sorehl summarized. “At least Semil is adhering to his promises.”

 

“For the moment,” T’Salik agreed. “It seems equally clear that, if they weren’t threatened by further defections to the Hundred, the Dominion would be disinclined to allow the Scorpiad to avoid reparations for the invasion.”

 

And so, the Hundred do their part in maintaining balance, honoring commitments to their allies, and bringing new order to the Gamma Quadrant. I'm touched you noticed.

Edited November 13, 2007 by Semil

[Col. C.E. Harper 0]

Wow. This is a great log, Sorehl! I love it!