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Lt JG Yael - Eight Kilometers

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((Transport - The Shinobi))

The trip was long, the void of space stretching endlessly outside the view windows.  The stars warped past… or rather, they warped past the stars.  The pilot was a chatty Bolian who kept up a running conversation very much with himself, and with a few small points of input from the Denobulan hybrid sitting in the furthest seat to the back.


Ash kept mostly to himself though, letting the Bolain socially torment any other riders who came aboard while he watched out the view ports for hour upon hour.






He didn’t sleep.


He felt… well… he wasn’t sure how he felt, exactly.  Disjointed?  Strange.  He felt strange.  He’d recalled almost everything he hadn’t been able to, but it was still hard to logically place the pieces together.  Like having a slightly unfinished puzzle, you knew what the image was, that you had all the pieces, but you just couldn’t magic the larger chunks into one whole.

He *had* it all, thanks to Kherys.  But… 


Maybe it was because he didn’t like what he knew.  It was irrational.


Less on the emotional side and more on the physical, he wore a new patch over his injured eye.  Medical scans revealed it was finally starting to heal, thanks in part to his inherently vigorous Denobulan halves immune system.  His other wounds were well enough along, apparently his body had finally gotten to that line on the To-Do List.  The doctor gave it a healing boost that would encourage cellular turnover, but it would still need to rest in order to continue the healing process on its own.  Despite his not being rather foreboding in stature, he still inherited that physical prowess at least.  It made him glad he took after his Denobulan side so strongly.  If they could get through something, they could *usually* heal from it.


Physically, anyway.


Pilot:  ::continuing some story he’d been telling on and off for approximately an hour now::  So I’m telling the guy, you *can’t* take a Risian hor’ghan with you to Casperia Prime.  It’s *rude.*  Just RUDE, I’m telling you.  Completely different cultures, if both luxurious of course, but *different.*  They’ll smile to your face and then tell stories about That Guy With The Hor’ghan in the staff rooms.  They might not remember your name, but they’ll *never* forget what you did!  


The animated Bolian kept talking even as a Human woman took the second main seat, rode to her location, departed, and a Vulcan gentleman joined them for another leg toward Vulcan.  There were a few others as well in the eight seat transport.  Thankfully, aside the endless chatter, the trip was quiet and uneventful.


Eventually though, he did rest the side of his forehead up against the window next to his seat.  He wasn’t sure when,  but his single amethyst eye drifted shut after some time, and he slipped into a shallow half-sleep, his body slumping with his shoulder braced against the bulkhead in his seated position.


((Vulcan - Above The Forge))


Pilot:  ::cheerfully::  Estimated arrival time to transporter range with Vulcan, thirteen minutes!


Ashley jarred awake at the sudden announcement being made over the small intercom.  That was somewhat unnecessary, with there being only eight seats in the shuttlecraft… but it *had* gotten his attention.  He pushed up from his slumped position… his back ached, and he stretched it, groaning lightly as his back popped and cracked.  The Vulcan sitting silently across the walkway from him glanced his way, an eyebrow rising slightly with silent judgment.


Yeah.  A one-eyed Denobulan-Human hybrid on Vulcan.  It was… probably not the norm.


Pilot:  Mr.  Tumehn, your location is coming up first.  If you’ll step onto the transport pad.


The Vulcan gentleman did so, carrying his small satchel, and was transported to the surface near his arrival location as they orbited above it.


Pilot:  Mr. Yael, you’re next.


Yael:  Please set me down on the main road outside Shi’Kahr.


There was a pause as the pilot recalculated the transporter, the Bolian seeming puzzled for a moment.


Pilot:  That’s about eight kilometers away from the Seleya complex.


Yael:  I understand.


Pilot:  Do you… have a pickup scheduled?

Yael:  ::smiling at the Bolian as he took his place on the transporter pad::  No.


Pilot:  Oh… ::eyeing him with uncertainty::... well, alright then.


The transporter shimmered in that bluish gold, and he was remolecularized on an expansive, open roadway outside the city of Shi’Kahr.  The glinting lights from the city glimmered in the heat of what was mid-day, locally… the heat was a bit refreshing for a half-tropical species such as himself.  The starbase wasn’t *cold* exactly… but he sometimes wore a thin *thermal* underlayer to his uniform in order to say that.


For this trip though, he didn’t need all that.  He had shirked his uniform early in the shuttle trip for a simple off-white, v-neck linen shirt, full sleeved but very light, along with a similarly smart pair of off-black sports leggings, along with black walking canvas shoes.  Dressed smartly for comfort in the heat, he raised a hand over the level of his good eye, shading it from the sun above as he looked around him.


The road leading to Seleya from Shi’Kahr was not a modern marvel, despite Vulcan being a perfectly modernized place.  There were certain places that remained as hand-shod as it had been in the Age of Awakening, and this road was one of them.  Travelers historically walked it barefoot to reach the temple of Seleya, and he was nothing if not accommodating of local tradition.


But… he glanced down at the searing hot, somewhat uneven rocks and shifting loose sand in the warm breezes at his shoes…


Yeah.  He was keeping his shoes.


Slipping a pair of sunglasses out of the small pack lashed to his thigh by a slim leg belt, he slid them on over the patch and looked into the distance at the small red mountain looming ahead.


Eight kilometers.  He could do that.  Eight kilometers was *nothing* to a trained Starfleet officer.





Lieutenant JG Ashley Yael


Starbase 118 Ops




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