Ice and Snow

Snowfire sighed heavily as she exited the turbolift onto the promenade area of the starbase, her heart heavy with a mix of anger and sorrow. And a touch of helplessness. She'd gotten the same room as last time on the starbase, and had moved into it very quickly. She couldn't stay on the McKenzie any longer. Not with everything that was there. But just sitting in her quarters wasn't going to help. Not if she wanted to avoid a court martial offence that would likely send her home in utter disgrace into a situation she really did not want to be part of. And that stayed with her as she crossed the deck quickly, ignoring those clustered around tables quietly celebrating the success of their mission. Success...but at such a cost. And...why did it not really feel like victory. Not for her. Not after everything she'd had to do...

Her feet took her almost unconsciously out towards a railing, one overlooking a viewport out into the starfield that had finally cleared. A part of her mind noted another person there, but the rest of it just altered her course so that she was far enough away from whoever it was so as to not intrude. She...wasn't looking for conversation. Well, yes, she was, but - no. She...it was... She sighed again, slowing to lean forward against the railing and look out over the panorama of stars, each now safe from the horror she had helped cage. That was something at least, wasn't it? Some small penance paid for all the lives she had helped wipe from reality. Maybe she'd be able to pay it all in the end. But did it really matter? Not to the universe. No. But to herself? Perhaps...

What about others? She looked across to the side, at the person who she had known was there, and blinked a moment. Captain Kheren, staring out into space with...was that a commisioning plaque? It was...wasn't it. It made sense, didn't it. Something to remember his ship by. She knew that feeling. Losing a ship was never easy - even when you got almost all of the crew out alive. She took a few careful steps along the railing towards the Andorian. Oh, he must know she was there, but it was the courtesy that mattered...somehow. Stupid parents and their stupid etiquette tutors - but in the end it helped. Sometimes. Maybe now?

"The Sun never Saw Her Like Outside Olympus." She quoted softly.

Until then, Kheren had not noticed the Ilithyrii; not because of his deafness to anything directly behind him, but because his mind was wandering accross time and space, lost in memories of the last day, the last month, the last year... Back to day he was thrown into the command chair to the last moment he had been forced to leave it.

But then, he heard the soft voice quoting the words burning his silvery eyes and that brought him back to the here and now... and the feeling of emptiness that had never truly left him for a good while now.

"Nor will it ever again," he answered mechanically without moving his eyes from the vista of stars spread beyond the wide transparency.

Silence stretched between them for a moment before he looked at the white-haired, black-skinned Vulcanoid woman standing beside him. Her uniform was that of the fleet, except that her shoulders, instead of the usual grey, were white as her long hair, marking her as a member of Starfleet's officer exchange program. She looked lithe and delicate, but he knew this could be misleading when his own people, slender and thin by most humanoid standards, was in fact stronger and more resilient than most of them.

He recognized her now. They had talked a bit before the operation had been launched and her scientific expertise had provided the final part of it, following that of Syntron his own science chief, to finally triumph against the anomaly.

But, at that moment, he didn't know what to say. Already ill at ease with social rituals, his heavy heart did not help him find words for this short talk... no, small talk... most humanoids seemed to enjoy. 

"Lieutenant Snowfire K'Leysha of the McKenzie... he simply said in polite greeting.

"Of the McKenzie no longer, Captain." She corrected, blowing out a long breath. As he had studied her, she had studied him. Not the same as others of his species, more defined and...subtly different in manner besides. There was the blue skin, of course. And the eyestalks that he could retract that - apparently - was part of what made him an abomination to his people. But yet...no. It did not matter. And...perhaps this was...maybe?

"And it will, I think." She continued gently. "Maybe not for you, maybe not now or even for a long time. But ships never truly die, Captain. Their names lie eternal, woven in the words of their stories and the hearts of those who flew them. But...that isn't what you're feeling right now, is it." It wasn't a question. "For you, for a Captain, it is the hardest duty to leave behind the place that he has made his - that has become a part of him. But he must nonetheless, for that is the great duty that he holds. Ships - perhaps even more to my people - become living things in their own way. Certain systems will 'misbehave', some will just work better than others, and throughout it all the blood and bone within the walls of steel will give her that life far more than anything else." She reaches across slowly, and softly taps the quote.

"You gave everything to make her that. To make her shine such that maybe, just maybe, she would be as bright as she is said to be in the Olympus of Greek legend. And...you succeeded, I think. But still is that hard duty. That hardest of promises that you have no choice but to uphold - for your honor cannot let go if there is a way for you to continue. The Federation is...different that way from many others, you know?" She gestured out at the starfield, from where Romulan and Klingon had come and now where there no longer.

"But you, I think, are beginning to understand for yourself the terrible secret that all Captains - and yes, Admirals too - work so hard, and successfully, to keep hidden." She tapped the plaque again. "You can move on, you can start anew, you can continue. But you can never forget." She stopped, head dropping until her eyes met the floor, and her next words were bare whisper. "Just as I cannot..."

The words of the Illithyrii struck him first like fine dust, than grains of sand, then turning into gravel, rocks... until realization hit him like a ton of neutronium bricks.

She had been there before... She understood... and most of all, she was right.

Ships, like people, lived on and could only be honored by the living memories of those who moved on to perpetuate all they had given farther into the lives of those that they had left behind.

He looked once more at the dedication plaque of the Artemis, then tucked it firmly under his arm, to keep it as safe and warm as he now felt.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he finally said with the smile in his voice that his face could not convey. "You have lifted from my heart a burden that was slowly but surely sinking me downward and into a very cold and dark place."

He looked at her and saw his own barely lifted cloud now hover over the slender woman.

"You seem yourself to carry your own dark stone as well. Anything a former starship commander can help you with? I already owe you that personally, on top of what all of us in this universe owe you for finishing the taming of the Azimuth Horizon."

Snowfire felt a slight warmth inside of herself, a feeling of accomplishment, that she had managed again. She had helped, she had given hope instead of destruction and sorrow. And...yes, he was right that she had helped again but...oh...yeah.

"A stone that is the reason for which I left the McKenzie mere minutes following our docking here on the Starbase. I...could not stay there. Not without doing something that I would truly regret." She shook her head. "I do not know if you are aware of the story, but." She raised her eyes slowly, and her voice turned rough with anger. "Lieutenant Commander," she made the title almost a curse, "Sorripto abandoned his post during our fight against the Horizon's Children. He did so - apparently - on orders passed down by Starfleet Intelligence and something called Section 31. He sabotaged our vessel, assaulted several members of our crew, forced the use of a highly dangerous psionic technique to keep us alive, and then - after miraculously returning from the dead - was allowed free run of the McKenzie on our way back to the starbase." The words were tight, clipped and almost mechanical in delivery, and then she slumped forward against the railing - white hair slipping down on either side of her face to hide it behind a silken veil.

"I...I thought Starfleet was better than that..." She said at last, very quietly. "That...maybe all I had read in the Academy, all I had seen there, and most that I have seen here was not an elaborate lie. But..." Her head kept on moving, side to side, as if a broken record. "There was no apology in his mind for what he did. No sorrow for those hundreds that he killed when he destroyed the Prophecy - which we had disabled!" She didn't shout, but the words were intense, rippling with emotion that she was so clearly having a great deal of trouble containing. "And then apparently he was back, and he was allowed into the Engineering spaces, after everything he had done and..." She finally met Kheren's eyes, her own violet irises burning with a mix of sorrow, tightly leashed vicious fury, and...disappointment. "So I came here, and now I remember what you said. That the ends do not justify the means. Not in Starfleet." The look in her eyes turned almost despairing- in addition to all else - and she spoke next in a desperate plea. "Was that the truth?"

Kheren was deeply moved by what Snowfire reported. He felt surprise, disapointment, anger and finally a cold determination that was his most deadly feeling, the one he could least control when confronted with what he could never tolerate; hypocrisy... and worse, accepted hypocrisy, wether by sheer stupid blindness or wilfull denial, he couldn't care less.

He had offered her to ease her burden; and now he was instead sharing it with her!

But then, what he saw in her luminous eyes, what he heard in her soft voice, what he read in her dark features, all that gave him pause and renewed his own convicitions, calming him down with the serene firmness of his own morality, now reflected in someone else. 

For that alone, for people like her, he would stand and fight and die.

He looked at her with a light in his eyes that left no doubt as to the soul that shined behind their silvery hue. 

"Yes, Lieutenant; it is the truth; and the truth is the first thing we stand for, right before peace and the sanctity of sentient life. Even Starfleet Intelligence, short of the errors of a few individuals, do stand by those values. If anyone there erred in judgment, he or she will be held accountable and will face the stern judgment of Federation Justice. Starfleet is not without flaws and free of mistakes; but it always face its responsibilities and work to make things right, even when it is to correct its own wrongs... and do everything not to repeat those mistakes again. That is why we have an Academy in the first place."

He took a breath and looked outside, at the cold, silent stars. He did not trust his frozen face and burning eyes to spare the young woman from believing he was aiming his growing anger and despizing judgment at her when he was feeling so incensed by his very own words, hardening his voice to make each word a blow.

"But Section 31... that lawless, anachronistic aberration left over from a bygone era of barbarism and immaturity, that... foul, disgusting thing is not Starfleet; it is not even Federation, whatever self-serving lie they try to tell themselves and us. Even their flaunted name is a blatant lie; read the Articles of the Federation and you will find no trace of that Section 31 they pretend justifying their existence with. Their very existence, at least as much as their actions, is an insult to what the Federation represents, an excuse for self-serving powermongers to justify their vile manipulations, a pretext to harbor and condone every extremist, criminal and egotist under a false banner of righteousness. Their existence makes everything we stand for a lie and their actions turn every achievement of ours into a farce."

He took a deep breath to calm himself down. Then he dared to turn to face her. but his eyes were still smoldering.

"That, I know first hand, believe me; when I joined the Academy, they sought my combat expertise. But when I found that the advanced training class for elite Starfleet marines was in fact a cover for a school of assassins, I left... and believe me, it was not pretty when I did. And even today, they steer far and clear from me because they know that, would they dare try anything against me or any one of my people, then Andoria would not only hunt them down to the last one, be it for centuries... and we're frighteningly good and relentless in doing so... but Andoria, a founding world, would leave this hypocritical, perverted, corrupted United Federation of Planets immediately; and this would be the beginning of the end for the Federation they so much pretend to serve and protect... and we of Andoria would make pretty sure the whole galaxy knew about it."

Now more calm, he signed and looked more gently at Snowfire, as if finally seeing her.

"I have not read yet the reports from the Operation. But I remember this Sorripto from the fleet meeting, the outrageous stance he took to flaunt his imcompetence behind righteous anger with talk of needless killing and half-baked rescue plans... and the shameless pride he showed when he revealed his Section 31 affiliation. It is nauseating just thinking about it again... and to hear it among officers of Lotus Fleet, of all places...

He took another breath to contain his anger rising again.

"Now, If what you say happened the way you describe it, this Sorripto can but only face very serious charges before a court martial. If he did receive orders to do as he did however, this will be his only defense and the real culprits, those who gave the orders, will be found and sanctioned accordingly. But pity him if he acted on his own... and invoking Section 31 is for him the surest way to find no leniency whatsoever with Starfleet Command."

He almost smiled, so bitter he felt.

"I do not understand why an honorable veteran like Captain Daniel Crist could tolerate that such an obvioulsy untrustworthy, unfaithful and dangerous individual roam free on board his ship.  If there is one thing a ship captain has at heart, or should have, it is the safety of his crew. No loose cannon can be tolerated. Would only one of those things had happened on my ship, I would have personally thrown him out through a torpedo tube. And I am not speaking figuratively."

He nodded to the Illithyrii and his voice became much more gentle.

"But I do understand how you feel. I would have done exactly the same; at least, I would like to believe that I would have shown your restraint and do as proper as you did. We Andorians are a violent, passionate people... and one thing we can not tolerate is treachery. But we do admire courage and integrity. Both you have aplenty, Lieutenant, what you just did proves it. More than even what you did today, that alone will have you earn a place on a ship worthy of a true Starfleet officer... worthy of you. Of that, I have no doubt."

He clasped tighter the dedication plaque under his arm.

"Would I still have a ship, I would have been honored to have an officer such as you. And she would have liked you too."

And as the words flowed over her, Snowfire...Listened. She let her shields weaken, ever so slightly, enough to feel the emotion pouring off the Andorian before her - each swell coming in perfect harmony with the words of the moment. She felt the subtly shifts of feeling that made him look out over the stars instead of face her - and inside she was thankful. She sensed the determination, the steely resolve. And beneath it all...there was no falsehood. He spoke truly. He could do little else. Not without becoming something that he would likely rather die than become. Fire and ice, caged in a body of flesh, but tempered by a deep knowing of what he was. And it helped. Bit and pieces, dust and sand and metal and stone. The flowed out of him, and she felt those feelings find kinship in that steady stream.

And...the cracks in her soul, those pieces that had been scared and terribly wounded by the events of the past days, they stopped bleeding.

"I think, Captain, that I owe you a thank you just as sincere as that you gave me." She said quietly. "For reasserting my belief in something better than that which stained my hands with blood of billions. And, who knows?" She shrugged eloquently, white hair flipping from the movement of her shoulders. "Maybe what I do now can count for something, even after all I've done. Any maybe I can be worthy of the title you granted me, that of a Starfleet officer." She looked out again, at the icy points of light shining in the blackness beyond the viewport, her eyes seeing something other than those stars. Domes of fire, rising blue, white and red from the green and blue orbs of habitable planets, stretching up high - so high that they almost seemed to escape - and the dissipating into a shred of superheated plasma - leaving nothing beneath them but charred ash. And then there were the comm channels....the screaming horror from the stations and satellites and...no! She cut off the turmoil, cut if off hard with an extremely quick shake of her head - so fast that it was more shiver than shake. And then she looked across at Kheren, and sighed sadly, eyes dimming.

"Can there be redemption for that, do you think?"

The Andorian was no empath; in fact, he scored so low on the Starfleet Psionic test at the Academy that even Betazoids had some slight trouble connecting with his mind. But he could listen... and think... What he heard from her soft voice were troubling revelations; he knew next to nothing about her people, except that they were a powerful spacefaring culture somewhere beyond what was used to be called Borg Space, in the far reaches of the galaxy. But it seems they knew deep strife and woes, and she was shouldering much of it on her slender shoulders. What he thought then was that, like him, she had found the Federation and Starfleet to be the levers to lift that burden off her heart; and so, like him, she could not bear that anything... or anyone... would dare threaten them.  

But what he felt from the Illithyrii was even deeper; so much like what plagued his own soul that he could only look at her for a long moment before words came.

"Redemption? I do not know. But hope? Yes."

He put his callused hand on her slender shoulder; a most rare move from him. But he wanted his words to ring deep in her. He wanted her not just to hear them, but to feel them.

"A great person is not one that never falls, but one that stands up again after a fall and keeps on going straight and true... regardless of the howling winds at one's back, the slippery ice under one's feet or the snow blowing in one's face. We can not change the past... nor should we. It is what shapes us, makes us who we are in the present, for good or ill. But what wecan do is build a better us, by building a better future. That is after all what the Federation is about.. what it has always been about... and what it must  always be; for everyone... yes, everyone... even this Lieutenant Commander Sorripto... and us both."

Hope. The word seemed to twist in her mind, the countless meanings of it flickering across her thoughts. It had once seemed so easy. So simple to reach that bright and powerful place where all would simple flow as part of a greater pattern. The Talya teams, the gravitonic fury that they had released on the Borg to keep them at bay, all of it had been part of that pattern. Except parts of the pattern didn't agree with it anymore. The pieces of the pattern, each a free individual of the Council, they were changing. But the Council wasn't changing as quickly as the pattern that made it. And her hope had died at Vanguard, along with twenty five billion sentients, in the blazing fury of anti-matter annihilation. Not even the Federation had managed to rekindle that. Except...

She looked at the Andorian in front of her. Properly, truly, Looked. It was hard, oh yes it was hard. But seeing was believing - or so the humans said. And she wondered. If not hope, what was it that had driven her to show the Federation how to cage the Horizon. Her people could have done it when it inevitably threatened them. But she wasn't...she wasn't willing to let that happen. But was that all? It didn't...it didn't seem like it. So what else was there? Trust? Trust in the ideals of this state of many worlds, so at odds with her culture? Again, a part of the puzzle - for if she had not trusted then she would not have been so hurt by the betrayal of the same. So she trusted the Federation. But did she believe in it? Could she truly agree with the words and emotions that Captain Kheren espoused. That he lived and breathed and, arguably, was? She wasn't sure. But...that was better than nothing, wasn't it?

"Thank you, Captain." She replied finally. "Again. I do not know if I truly believe what you have said there, but I'm getting there. And it's people like you who help me do that." Her hand came up as she moved back subtly until she caught his arm in a clasp. It wasn't a handshake - Ilythirii didn't do handshakes. And it didn't really mean what a handshake did. But it was enough.

Kheren was abit taken aback when her body motions announced that she was about to grab his arm; his duelling instinct and Andorian upbringing were geared for instant violent response when something or someone was about to touch him without being invited to; but after years among Humans, who touched each other, everyone and everything else at the first opportunity, he had learned to curb his instincts and decrypt the true intention behind the gesture. Now he could handshake without breaking someone's arm by reflex; and the back step the Illythirii had taken before raising her arm had told him it wasn't an attack, but agesture of trust and friendship. And so, he not only allowed it, but he returned it back.

Seemed they both had learn more than a few things in Starfleet.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. For this... and for having being with us at the crucial moment. My first officer, who not so long ago had been my chief of science, showed me the final sensor readings and calculations confirming that, had we not finally caged the anomaly the very moment we did, by the time it would have bursted out of this one sector alone, even the giant black hole at the center of the galaxy would not have been enough to stop it. By now, this whole universe would have already been on course towards annihilation. We were lucky that you were here with us when it was still possible to do so. I hope we will have you with us still for some time to come."

And with that, he lifted his chin to her, in the very Andorian gesture of respect.

"Now if you will excuse me, I must go make my report to Fleet Captain Samji. And then, I have wives to... report to also. Please take care of yourself, Lieutenant Snowfire K'Leysha."

And with that, he walked away towards the nearest turbolift, his head higher and his step lighter than they had been since a good while.