Time Away

[Chirakis 1]

Time Away

 

TKR-117.

 

There was a reason the planet was numbered. It was just there. It didn’t warrant a name. From a distance, one parent sun shone dimly to the naked eye and the planet seemed more like a reflection than a place to land. Ordinary sensors didn’t scream its presence until, a few hundred thousand kilometers distant, its sun’s rays reflected the colors that proved it was worthy of its M classification.

 

Drakkor dropped from warp within sight of the nameless planet. Kirel allowed the sturdy Peregrine to drift while the craft’s scanners took high-level readings. Threat assessment was a caution stemming not from paranoia from the pilot’s experience. One could never be too careful… and from space the view was spectacular.

 

The planet loomed as an oasis despite its diminutive size. As the only child of a star half the size of Sol, it seemed to have been lavished with gifts by a doting parent. Two emerald mountain ranges framed its deep azure sea and protected the inhabitants from storms and high winds that swept across the polar ice caps, frothing glacial waters before bringing rains that renewed the rich upland plateaus. Almost dead-center of one such plateau sat the protected archaeological colony of Alistair, founded to investigate a mysterious buried city established an estimated 100,000 years ago and then abandoned.

 

Approximately the size of the Terran island of Manhattan, the underground city slept for millennia until decades of research led one scientist to its discovery. Dr. Hannah McDowell’s persistence convinced the powers that be to allow her to excavate the site, then promptly convinced them to restrict it, citing exceptional archaeological finds. For that reason, anyone traveling to or from TKR-117 was thoroughly vetted and searched - coming and going - to prevent the trafficking of artifacts.

 

Besides the archaeologists, only the Deosi had been allowed to establish a settlement. Having escaped from the Breen when that civilization mysteriously vanished, the peaceful agrarian group of 200 served the population well by cultivating the planet’s rich soil to produce an abundance of fruits, vegetables, and dairy products that not only served the archaeological community of Alastair, but exported exceptional fresh produce to Aegis.

 

Drakkor’s scans showed only the occasional low-level blip within the planet’s approach corridors, but Kirel allowed the fighter to drift dark except for its sensors. The deep expanse, the solitude, and the silence of space was soothing.

 

In a few hours she’d be inundated with dignitaries and Mess dress. There would be meetings, discussions, and sorties to the excavations. No doubt there would be receptions and speeches. And the formality? She was an operative, and though she had often played the part of a dignitary, she did not relish the thought of actually being one.

 

Nineteen months. Five months and it would be two years as Aegis’ commanding officer. If they kept her here much longer….

 

One gloved hand caressed Drakkor’s console. Its dials glowed in welcome. Its engines hummed to life, so finely tuned one would not guess her age except for the battle-scarred fuselage. Four days at maximum warp would get her to Pekal Dorn. Ten would get her to Sindar or any number of secluded planets….

 

A slow, steady roll brought Drakkor into the planet’s approach corridor. Soon the clipped challenge of planet security broke the silence. Kirel sighed a response and settled in for the duration.