​Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis - Walking Among Ghosts

[Samira Neathler]

@Quinn Reynolds Just because this is an awesome read.

((Holodeck, USS Gorkon))

A ribbon of crystal water weaved through rolling hills which stretched toward the horizon, finally flowing into sea waters which glittered in the sun like liquid sapphire. Ancient trees reached for the sky, their lush boughs swaying in a summer breeze. Flowers bloomed among the long grasses, their colourful faces turned toward the light. Their fragrance drifted through the air, sweet and perfumed, mixing with the rich scent of warm soil and wood. 

A paradise. 

Lost. 

A Romulan walked among the wildflowers and long grasses she played among as a child. Her short hair framed a face with high cheekbones and striking green eyes, pale skin which probably hadn’t bathed in the rays of a real sun in quite some time. She moved with the feline grace of a predator, a sinuous mix of lethality and artistry, the figure of a martial artist who fell in love with dance. 

In her arms, she carried a baby nearing the celebration of her first year. Hazel green eyes, a subtle echo of her mother’s forehead ridges, and her father’s luxurious mahogany hair. 

Sienelis: This, Rybka, is where Mama was born. ch’Rihan, although the Federation called it Romulus. Isn't it—::she paused, correcting herself::—wasn’t it beautiful? 

Llaira looked around with a curious gaze, drinking in this new experience with the innocent wonder only children had. Valesha smiled, but the expression wavered at the corners, unable to quite shake the hot coal which had burned in at the bottom of her ribs since waking from the Skarbek. 

Sienelis: This is where our people settled at the end of our long journey through the stars, after the Vulcans forced us from our home. Two thousand years later, they preach Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations—but only if you’re not Romulan. Then you can only be a liar, a spy, or happy to murder your own family for reasons they cannot explain. 

Her dark, straight brows pulled into a frown, and Valesha took a deep breath. The ship’s new counsellor had cast herself into the role of Romulan spy in Skarbek, and it cut the scientist to the quick. Another Vulcan who looked at her people and saw only deception and menace. The meal at the tea room in Japan with Alieth still ricocheted through her mind, every humiliation engraved in her memories. Vorin’s accusations, and the accompanying investigation, still hung over Valesha’s head. Now T’Lar, whose Skarbek persona—the worst version of herself she could imagine—had been a Romulan spy. 

Because a Vulcan simply couldn’t imagine being deceiving everyone around her without being Romulan. 

Sienelis: Pay no mind to Mama. Things will change. It will be better for you. 

She grimaced, trying to ignore the barbs twisted deep in her heart. Was that hope, or foolishness? Her greatest fear was that her daughter was going to suffer through the same sort of prejudice as she did. It was exhausting, fighting every day for what so many others took for granted. To have her integrity assessed on the basis of her actions, not her genes or birthplace. To have her work judged on its merits, and not the author. 

Sienelis: That isn’t why I brought you here. ::Valesha took a deep breath, trying to push away the hurt, and gestured ahead of her.::This is the Jhianhre province. Do you see that cottage and the building next to it? That’s where Mama grew up.

A solitary cottage in white stone stood not far from the treeline, windows sparkling in the bright sunlight. A garden bloomed behind it, filled with brilliant colour and life, clearly the result of a dedicated steward. Smoke rose from the tall chimney beside it, and light glowed inside.  

Sienelis: That was your uncle’s garden. ::She smiled, melancholy threading through.:: Taeval had such a way with plants and flowers. Now he cares for people the same way he tended to his garden. If you ever have a problem and Mama and Papa can’t be there, you go to your dinam-ri'ranai.¹  He’ll take care of you.    

Few moments in Valesha’s life compared to the rare joy of finding her twin again. Thought dead in the supernova, discovered alive via a chance meeting during the Warp XV tests, and finally reunited on Ketar V. It had been like finding the lost piece of her soul, though she still wasn’t sure how he felt about having to leave his home shortly thereafter. They had both changed in the intervening years, and he was no longer a teenager too easy for his sister to read.

Sienelis: That, ::she gestured to the building with the smoking chimney,:: was our forge. The House-Clan of t’Sienelis is very old, one of artists and craftsmen. Your grandmama, your hru'nanov, she was one of the finest smiths on Romulus. She made dathe'anofv-sen² for the high houses, and tan qalanq³ for the Qowat Milat. People used to travel from across the Empire to beg for her work. It’s how she met your grandpapa, your hru'diranov.

She paused at the mention of her father. Valesha had no idea what he thought of her current situation, though she didn’t doubt he knew of it. Things had been quiet of late, no more attempts to cajole, push, or physically drag her home. Maybe he had accepted she was where she wanted to be. More likely he was simply being patient. What were a few years, or even decades, to a Romulan?

Sienelis: That’s a... complicated story. ::She smiled ruefully, and shook her head.:: Not one for today. Today, we are going swimming.

Perhaps in response to the smile and the shift in her mother’s tone, Llaira excitedly babbled, clapping her tiny hands together. Her mother’s heart grew several sizes, still finding ways to be amazed at how her daughter could both wrench her heart and soothe her soul simultaneously.   

Sienelis: My little fish likes the sound of that, hmm? ::She laughed.:: Swimming in the same river Mama learned to swim in? Maybe we’ll teach you to dive when you’re older, too. There’s magic in the sea, Rybka, and don’t let anyone tell you different. 

The happy chattering from her babe in arms confirmed that Llaira would, indeed, refuse to stand for any contrary opinions on the matter. If she had even a gram of her parents’ stubbornness, that would be a battle she wouldn’t lose. Feeling a little lighter, with the grass and wildflowers tickling bare dancer’s legs beneath her skirt, Valesha picked up the pace. 

Sienelis: Come on then. Papa will be here soon. ::She shared an impish grin with her daughter, mischief reflected back toward her.:: Let’s see if we can get in the water and splash him first.

 

¹ Romulan: Uncle, maternal.

² Romulan: A traditional weapon which translates as “honour blade”, passed down through Romulan families and ritually sharpened.

³ Romulan: A straight, singled edged sword preferred by the Qowat Milat.

--

Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis

Assistant Chief Science Officer

USS Gorkon

simmed by

Vice Admiral Quinn Reynolds

Commanding Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

[Alora DeVeau]

Heartbreaking and yet hopeful at the same time.  Beautiful!