Commodore Taybrim + Praetor Taron - Journeys

[Alora DeVeau]

((OOC – ok, this one is a little weird.  But wanted to flesh out Taron more and give some insight into Sal.

LOCATION: this skips between Taybrim and Taron evenly.  Sal Taybrim is on Betazed, Taron’s family is on a Romulan system and Taron is, or course, in Trauma Bay 8))

~*~

Something was wrong.

Sal couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but he knew.  As he sat in the Elfasiano Hospital for advanced neuromuscular surgery, waiting the final steps on a procedure that would greatly extend his life, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had gone horribly wrong out there.

Shielded thoughts were not unusual for him – even with his own species.  His damaged telepathy had a hard time penetrating any sort of mental guard.  So between good guarded thoughts and a communications blackout everyone thought the Commodore would be completely calm and unaware that the Romulan peace talks had been drastically expedited – and everyone was on strict orders to keep this secret away from Sal Taybrim.

But while Betazoids were very good at guarding their thoughts (even though most found that to be extremely distasteful) very few of them thought to guard their feelings.  And the overactive empath took advantage of that.

He could feel that they knew something and they were deliberately keeping it from him.  Which he didn’t begrudge them for doing – but it was also extremely frustrating to sit around and not act.  Not even know.  

It was extremely difficult to focus on oneself when one was worried about their crew, their StarBase and an entire sector of space full of billions of lives.  Sal Taybrim had an extremely hard time turning that off and focusing on the task at hand – a surgery he had put off for far too long.  He had been put in a complete communications blackout for his own good, and still he had ferreted out that something was wrong and it gnawed at him.

~*~

Something was wrong.

Vikana couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but she knew.  As she sat in the Praetorial State Home on Durandios IV she watched the chronometer tick by.  Taron should have checked in with her two hours ago.  

Sure, things cropped up.  But it was not like Taron to not send a message unless he was prevented from doing so.  Of course his travels to the Federation StarBase 118 would present some difficulties, but he had called her yesterday – late, but that did establish the ability to connect.

She was worried.  

Vikana didn’t love her husband’s position.  She admired him for his leadership skills, his efficiency and fairness, his good intentions to get the resources the damaged Empire needed t the correct systems fairly.  But she knew that being a good person in a position of power would paint a massive target on Taron’s back.

She wasn’t ready to lose her husband.  She loved him.  She missed him when he was away.  Missed his gentle humor and his ridiculous quirks like always eating his breakfast in a very precise order.  Their children looked up to him, idolized him even.  

She didn’t want to see them off into adulthood alone, and have them work in honor of his memory.  She wanted them to work by his side, getting his advice as they took their places in a new Romulan society.

She should start making supper, but it was extremely difficult to think about food when her stomach was turning.  All she could do was helplessly hope that he was alright, off in the Federation, so many stars away. 

~*~

Kirin: I am not letting you out of this room.

Big huggable teddybear that he was, Kirin Taybrim was taller and stouter than Sal Taybrim and he would stand as a roadblock, challenging his little brother to defy or attack him.

Because he knew Sal wouldn’t.  

Sal would leave and go seek out forbidden information in a heartbeat if he had the opportunity, but when challenged by someone who cared about him, he would back down.

Sal: I know something has gone wrong, and I know everyone is keeping things from me.

Kirin let out a long, slow sigh.  He hated lying.

Kirin: Yes, the galaxy will always have something that goes wrong, Sal.  There is always bad news.  But you trust your crew, you trained them well…

This argument again.  It was a cheap shot, but it worked.  Sal Taybrim looked a little indignant, but Kirin could feel his thoughts settle.

Sal: I want to help them if they need it.

Kirin: At the expense of your own health?  You’re already here, Sal.  If you walk out now it will be another year, perhaps two or three before you can come back in.

The older brother’s dark eyes locked with the younger brother’s dark eyes.  A challenge.  A mental question that clearly came through their shared bond of telepathy.

~How long can you go without another emergency transport?~

~Will your heart make it through another assassination attempt?~

It was a horrifying feeling to know that the primary form of transport, so commonly accepted in almost every area of the civilized galaxy was a death sentence for Sal Taybrim.  And here he was staring down an operation that would give him a safety net.  That would repair enough of the damage that he could use occasional transportation in emergencies without risking complete heart failure.  Sure, he’d never be able to use transporters with the frequency and convenience of the majority of the galaxy, but at least this would make them a tool and not a death sentence.

Slowly Sal lowered his gaze.

Kirin won.

Kirin: Stop beating yourself up for not being everywhere at all times.  

That was the crux, wasn’t it?  The guilt that crept in for not being able to save everyone at all times.  The guilt that was reinforced by the opinions fronted by the FNS, the opinions of some of the survivors from Utopa Colony.  Even the opinions from some of his own crew.

But the reality was one person could not do everything, no matter how big of a presence they had or how much of a leadership position they owned.  One person, when it came down to it, was still just one person.

Sal: I know.  ::He sighed, sitting back down heavily:: I just hate it when I’m not here I should be.

Kirin shook his head and pointed at the floor of the hospital room where his baby brother was supposed to be getting ready for a major surgery instead of pacing around like a wound-up fool.

Kirin: This is where you should be.  ::firm, unyielding::

The moment of rest was short lived and Sal was back on his feet again.

Sal: And if something happens-

Kirin: It’s not your fault, Sal! ::He cut his brother off.  Commodore or no, sometimes the older was the wiser and had to shut the younger one up.:: 

There was a fractional pause and Kirin’s gaze sharpened as he read his brother’s thoughts, picking them from the conversation.

Kirin: The Rahuba wasn’t your fault, either.  ::He gave his brother a firm look:: ~Yes I read those reports!  Of course I read those reports.~ Don’t fall into the trap of blaming yourself for the acts of evil people.

Sal Taybrim’s words were soft and a little bitter.

Sal: And yet they use my example to rally others to their destructive causes.

Kirin: Because you’re a good person.  You draw good people to you.  You have a good strong crew who does good work.  So of course, your cruel and tyrannical counterparts focus upon you and your crew.  Evil loves a good foil, it’s drawn to you like moths to a flame.  But you and your crew suffer enough just countering them.  Don’t let them hurt you twice by taking the blame for their actions.

Stated like a long time Starfleet officer used to giving such counsel to other leaders in the fleet.  It was as true on the Della Nova as it was on StarBase 118.

Slowly Sal let his shoulders slump and he tried to let then tension drain from his form, sagging down into a seat on the bed.

Kirin: So please, take this short amount of time for yourself.  You can get back on the commlines once you get back on the Della Nova heading back for StarBase 118.  And then you can find out that, in fact, things are OK.  And everything you worry about ends up resolved.

Sal: ::He sigh, a long slow soul-weary sigh:: Alright.

Kirin finally moved from his place blocking the door and sat by his brother.

Kirin: I know you don’t like it.  I don’t like it either.  But we’d both like it less if you ended up in a coma from a transporter mishap.  And that would be a much bigger problem for your crew to compensate for than a planned absence.

Sal: I used to say that I’d never forgive myself if-

Kirin cut him off once again.

Kirin: Forgive yourself.  These things are outside of your control.

Sal let out a long slow breath and when he took in another one, he leaned on his brother a little, and Kirin knew he had won.  Maybe it wasn’t his best victory, but he had gone into this mission (and yes he considered this a mission) knowing that his little brother was an incredibly stubborn patient.

Kirin: You know, you were supposed to be prepped thirty minutes ago.  You should get ready.

Sal: Ready to lay in a bed for a week, hooray.

Kirin: ready to live for the rest of your life.

Touché.

~*~

Initially Taron had refused to take the position of Praetor.  He hadn’t been seeking power.  He had been seeking stability and he had some effective ideas for the prosperity of the outer worlds which caught on like wildfire in the floundering ashes of the Romulan Empire. 

Slowly each success built his reputation to a point where he felt an uncomfortable amount of attention fall on him and his family.

Taron: It is very flattering to be nominated, but I cannot accept this position.

Vikana: Why not?

She questioned, watching him keenly.  She didn’t want the power either.  Thus far their life had been good.  They had lived in prosperity and with honor.  Their children were strong and their family was thriving.

But she also could see how devastated their people were after the Hobus incident, how desperately they needed hope.

Hope which Taron brought with his words and actions.

Taron: It is too dangerous.  It would put this family in jeopardy.

Vikana: I know ::she murmured:: And I do not want to lose you or see you targeted for this.  ::drawing in a breath she drew herself up.:: But I also want our people to have hope.

Taron took a step forward, taking her hands in his and holding them gently.

Taron: There are others who will lead them.

She shook her head gently.

Vikana: There may be.  But right now you give them hope.  And you bear that hope with honor. 

Taron: I only do what I feel is right.

There was a long, soft pause between them.

Vikana: I want to live in the Free State that you build.  I want to see our children flourish with the hope you kindle.

Taron was struck silent and he let those words sink in.

And that was how the man who never wanted to be in power took the role of Praetor…

~*~

There was a telepathic specialist assigned to all high level Betazoid surgeries like this one.  Which was why this procedure had to be done on Betazed.  Anything that affected the nerves was keenly tied into the sensitive brain and nervous system, and telepathy was intrinsically woven into every aspect of that.

Pre-op established a very comfortable telepathic connection that went deeply beyond words and into the core of telepathic communication.  Sal’s specialist was an older gentleman, a veteran of such surgeries and one who had touched many difficult minds.

Difficult minds.  Sal hadn’t considered himself difficult, but if he dwelt upon it, between his rank in Starfleet, the classified information he carried and the telepathic damage he suffered he supposed he was difficult.

Prior to sedation the entire telepathic link was directed to relaxation.  They sat together on the beautiful plains of Glorimano mountain in the lower Trisk province.  The sunlight was bight and the breeze was perfect.  There were sounds of children playing in the water below.  Sal was surprised at how easily he found himself enjoying the feeling of focusing on something simple and pleasant.  The consistent telepathic reassurance was also welcome.

It was nice to not feel that the world was silent.  It was nice to have his telepathic senses engaged rather than collecting everything through empathy and feeling everything from the outside.

For a moment all was peaceful.

~*~

There was a moment in the twilight world between life and death where Taron – Praetor Taron of the Romulan Free State – felt completely at peace.

He had no idea that he was, in fact, bleeding out on a Starfleet biobed in trauma bay eight.

As shock settled in, his mind drew layers around it to protect himself and he found himself back on the beautiful banks of the Vr’Thiirr River in the Lokanu system.  Vikara had her hair long, and the breeze caught it in hypnotic raven waves.  She was young.  He was young.

Virkana was holding Tolak, who was no more than a burbling baby.  Taron held Virkana.  He had just been appointed governor of the system and his placement had been well received.  His family celebrated the birth of the firstborn and despite having an arranged marriage to a allied family, he and Virkana were also childhood friends.

The union had been arranged for the benefit of the families.  It had been carefully considered with the ages and personalities involved.  Their parents wanted the two to be able to work together as a partnership.  Friendship was required.  But fates has conspired to take things further than that.  Taron and Virkana were friends, but with time he saw the beauty in her movements, the wisdom in her gentle council.  And she saw the hope he carried with him and the honor in his actions.

Friendship turned to love.  And love created this perfect moment, which Taron would dwell in forever if he could.  If this was the last thing he remembered before he died, it would be enough.  To hold his beloved wife, while she held their first-born child, this was the one moment he would cherish forever.

For a moment all was peaceful.

~*~

And then his heart stopped.

Sal Taybrim wasn’t consciously aware what had happened.  Only that the gentle rhythm of the breeze had stopped, and clouds covered the sky.  Everything was unimaginably dark.

And in the darkness dwelled the things he didn’t think about.

The assassin’s blade.  The Tal Shiar agent that was in his quarters, and how Viktor Sokolov came to the bloody rescue.  The spray of green blood soaking his carpet.

The unwavering look in Sokolov’s eyes, the determination to kill to protect the Federation.  If at all possible that would be to kill the enemy.  But if Sal was compromised and unable to be retrieved… it would be Sal.  

Secrets were only safe with the dead.

The searing scream of Ambassador Vanath as she tore through the mind of the Cult of Molor lieutenant sent to kill her.  The dying pain of the cultist as his mind was ripped to shreds.  The shame of the Ambassador as she shared this information mind to mind.

Sal’s shame as he enjoyed the contact, even while being horrified of how it came to be.  It was one of the only true telepathic connections he had in the past decade.  And despite the horror of the experience shared, the actual connection was invigorating.

Back further, Rixx’s humorless laugh.  His intense scoffing anger that Sal Taybrim – a broken telepath – could possibly fend him off to a draw.  Worse, Sal knew Rixx’s secret.  Rixx wasn’t a tyrant, nor someone with a lust for power.  He was old and bored and lonely, and this was the only thing that gave him any stimulation.

And worse, Sal empathized with that.  The more loneliness he felt, the more Sal found himself manipulating others into situations where he could bask in their emotional aura.  Thus far he hadn’t turned into Rixx, Sal always tried to manipulate those around him into situations that were pleasurable, fulfilling and empowering.  He tried to build them up and support them.

But he worried that someday he might become like Rixx.  Detached and alone and seeking any emotional thrill.  Myabe that was Rixx’s plan, as the Rodulan kept harassing StarBase 118.  In his dark moments Sal wondered if he was playing into Rixx’s game.

Earlier yet, the agonizing pain of having the Ceabrin computer tear through his mind with an electrical jolt.  A burgeoning sentience that reacted with terror to the telepathic contact.

A feeling that he deserved it.

Because he had acted with arrogance.  Without care for his precious telepathy.

Because now he used the Ceabrin incident as an excuse as to why his telepathy was so badly damaged.  It was convenient, it was believable.  All he had to do was admit that he was an arrogant fool and use it as a life lesson and no one questioned it.

Because the truth was so much harder to face.

~*~

And then his heart stopped.

Taron wasn’t consciously aware what had happened.  Only that the gentle rhythm of the breeze had stopped, and clouds covered the sky.  Everything was unimaginably dark.

And in his arms Vikana and Tolak faded into dust.

This was his fear.  The loss of love, the loss of presence…

The loss of identity.

Where would they be if the Romulan Republic took over?

He feared that the Republic would act based on selfish fears with no vision of future strength.  That the Republic would leave the Empire open to weakness and war, driving the people into desperation, poverty and death. 

That his people would be scattered amongst the stars.   Vagabonds and wanderers without any place to call home. Surely some would give them charity, but he didn’t want a future where the only hope was charity.  He wanted a future where hope was built on a stable foundation, where resources went to place that helped his people flourish.

He wanted to leave a better galaxy for his children, and his children’s children.  He wanted his people to live with hope.

He was terrified that the Republic would take past traumas and transfer them to future generations, as punishment for past transgressions.

He hated the fact that the Tal Shiar still lurked in the shadows, ready to snuff out hope.  

He had come to terms with the very real possibility of his own death.

Because the truth was so much harder to face.

~*~

2374.

In orbit around Betazed.

Two teenagers on a science trip had absolutely zero idea what was going to befall them.  They had enough problems bickering between themselves and dealing with raging hormones, let alone completing their high-level science project designed to gain the attention of some of the premier science colleges on Betazed and beyond.

Yet suddenly they were commanded to land, IMMEDIATELY, without the usual checks, waits and safety precautions. Neither was an expert pilot, though both were competent, and the tower didn’t care.  They would pull them in with tractor beams, and the order was to come in hot.

Reasons were not given.  Veradis Fai questioned this.  Sal Taybrim didn’t.  

Coming in hot was the only thing that got them out of the way of the incoming attack.  Not questioning it had saved their lives.  Not that either one of them knew it until the assault happened.

The Dominion attacked.

The death toll, incomprehensible.

The surprise attack, sudden. 

Betazed’s planetary defenses were desperately outdated.  They fell almost immediately and the entire planet was conquered and occupied within ten hours.

The shuttle landed hot and both teens were commanded to rush to safety.

Except the attack was already well underway by the time they had gotten on the ground.  Tens of thousands were already dead – and hundreds of thousands more would follow.

Sal Taybrim could block out the rising scream of terror that was telepathically chorusing among his people.  But Veradis Fai, a congenitally active telepath could not.  She balled herself up in the back cargo area of the shuttle and refused to move.

Sal should have run.  He should have saved himself.  But he went back to draw her out as the interplanetary barrage started.  

Streaks of red and explosions rocked the sky as he frantically grabbed Veradis’ shoulder to try to draw her out.  They had to go, he pleaded.  It was for their own safety he implored.

She was locked in a hellscape of the telepathic pain of her people.  She couldn’t hear his words at all.  She wouldn’t hear anything outside of her mind.

And so he steeled his and gently touched her face, locking minds.

Taybrim: ~We have to go~

Images of death and pain flooded his mind.  The searing jolt of disruptor fire coursing through the nervous system of one dying Betazoid, followed by the feeling of being crushed to death as a ceiling collapsed on another.  Over and over, a mounting pile of pain and death.

Fai: ~let me die~

Taybrim: ~No, we can’t all die.  Come with me.  There is still hope.~

Fai: ::bitterly:: ~You and your stupid hope, Sal~

That was just enough of a jolt to get her moving.  And Sal was just enough of a stupid optimist to think that things would be OK.

Until the Dominion sent a strike team to secure the airfield.  Jem’Hadar locking the place down, shooting anyone in a uniform.  Sending two teenagers to go hiding in a basement.

Boots on the stone.  Jem’Hadar clearing the area.  A Cardassian lead was checking the side rooms.

Two teenagers were no match.  The door opened.  A disruptor pointed towards them.

And then Veradis Fai screamed, planting two hands on the Cardassian’s face, she lashed out with ever ounce of her excessive telepathic energy, tearing the Glinn’s tender consciousness into shreds.  

The disruptor dropped from the Glinn’s hand.  His body dropped like a wet sack.

Sal grabbed Veradis, dragging her from the scene before the Jem’Hadar could advance.  Pulling her towards the area where the rest of the civilians had gathered as refugees.  She was screaming.  Endlessly screaming, overwhelmed, unable to stop.  He needed her quiet, the Jem’Hadar would easily pinpoint the noise.

He linked minds with her once again, offering calm.  Trying to be a force of stabilization.

And she turned towards him, blinded and terrified, and she screamed.

Without making a sound, she screamed throughout his mind, in a way that reverberated into the deepest parts of his soul.  And for an endless moment he felt the terror of the thousands – perhaps millions – of minds she was connected to.  He felt her overwhelming fear at the attack and her own terror at the loss of her own fragile control.

And his own mind went into overload.

He had no clue what happened next.  Did he keep moving or was he carried?  Was the attack real or a dream? He blacked out.

And he didn’t wake up for a long time.  And when he did his mind was fuzzy.

He barely remembered the Battle of Betazed to this day.  Which was so strange, it was such a traumatic and blistering event in his formative years.  But it all blended together like a terrible dream that hadn’t actually happened.  And he spent months afterwards working on rehabilitating his telepathy.

But that was the turning point.  The moment the world went quiet.  Ceabrin was just an event to bring it full circle.

He never thought about the Battle of Betazed.  Or the fact that he and Fai once had a very different relationship that wasn’t filled with layers of shame and sarcasm.  He pushed it away in his mind as if it was a dream that didn’t deserve any focus.

Which was why he never sought to fix his telepathy.

~*~

2341

Romulus.

Taron was a young man, invited to witness a historic moment in the Romulan Senate along with his brother Telek as one of the honored families.  They were youth, wide eyed and optimistic.  Full of dreams and ideals.

The session was marked by stirring speeches and big promises, but Taron was skeptical that promises would be delivered.  He was knowledgeable of the way resources were divided in the Empire and he wanted his father and uncle to fight more aggressively for a better allocation of resources to the outer systems.  

Telek on the other hand was inspired by the whole thing.  Afterwards he looked to Taron and shared with excitement that he would be joining the military and had good marks to advance quickly.  Telek implored Taron to join him, but Taron felt his course was set.  He would work with his father to improve the outer systems.

Taron did not want to crush his brother’s dreams.  But he implored Telek to stay safe.

Because he loved his brother.  Maybe he should have told Telek that.

Telek rose in the military like a shining star.  He served with honor and a steadfast focus on goals.  Which was great until one of his goals intersected with the goals of the Tal Shiar.  And Telek, a masterful pilot, suffered a rookie flight mistake and crashed.

Leaving behind an intended wife, no children, no legacy except for lost potential.

Taron hated the Tal Shiar.  But he also hated outright war.

And yet as time went one, he found that he could no longer be a good man and keep his hands clean of any violence.  Dying was the easy route.  To live meant to fight back against the cruelty of the galaxy.

And he wanted to live.

He was willing to try.

~*~

As consciousness seeped back into Sal Taybrim’s mind, he realized that he spent decades fighting for what was right, while denying his own pain and healing.

He had almost turned away from this operation using the age-old excuse that he needed to help someone else.  He had built up a life of being supportive for others in order to hide some of his own past.  The loneliest extrovert, protecting everyone from his own demons by standing as the bulwark between the horrors of the Trinity Sector and the innocents who derived to live in peace.

Like Taron, Sal Taybrim had never asked for power.  He had found his way into it by doing what was right.

But he had put himself aside for too long.

If he was going to best the evil in the Trinity Sector he needed to accept his own past, forgive himself for his rational weaknesses and find a way to connect to his wonderful crew better and move forward.  Together.

He wanted to live.

He was willing to try.

 

[Talos Dakora]

This was so good. I've sorely missed reading @Sal Taybrim's writing!

Thanks for sharing!

Edited March 6, 2023 by Talos Dakora

[Alcyone Brennan]

I absolutely love this! ❤️ Something I personally adore is seeing more background to Sal, and Jamie is really making the most of the current downtime she has with the character. The parallels between Taron and Taybrim are really well done, and I really enjoy how it ties in with 'global' events and personal history. Unfortunately that means I will keep pestering her for more Sal-Solo-Sims  

[+ Hiro Jones]

Just freaking beautiful. There’s so much depth here. I love that you let the reader feel that without feeling the need to spell out every detail. Very nicely done, @Sal Taybrim ❤️

[+ Vitor S. Silveira]

I had the pleasure to be around when a certain Ensign Taybrim graduated.

If you permit me saying @Sal Taybrim I am hugely proud to see how Sal has grown all over the years.

And thank you for all the times we wrote, in the past, in the present and in the future.

[Sal Taybrim]

3 hours ago, Vitor S. Silveira said:

I had the pleasure to be around when a certain Ensign Taybrim graduated.

If you permit me saying @Sal Taybrim I am hugely proud to see how Sal has grown all over the years.

And thank you for all the times we wrote, in the past, in the present and in the future.

I'm not blushing you're blushing >.>

☺️

 

Thank you everyone!  I am embarassed to say how long that took me to write, so thank you all so much for reading! ❤️