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Ensign Doz Finch - The Thing About Coincidences

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Welp, there's two of them! Just kidding. 😁 Here's another amazing read from @Doz Finch.

How dare you to leave us in suspense like that.


((The Apa Farm, Bajor))

The Apa Farm was a towering sage spectacle; fields upon fields of the curious crops stretched for miles in the middle of nowhere, bleached by their warm and life-giving sun and touched ever so gently by a breeze that dared not blow too hard for fear of disturbing the peace. The smell in the air was just as dreamy, just as invigorating, with bits of the green stuff floating within it in tiny speckles—no doubt distempering the walls of her lungs with its natural tinge.

It was ironic therefore that the reason she had found herself out there alone was not to volunteer herself to the efforts of the local agriculture, or even to sample and procure a basket of the farm's freshest corn, but instead to return a mischief-making robotic dog that she had, only half accidentally, temporarily adopted.

Apa: Remarkable.

Finch: It is, isn’t it?

Apa: And it was found where, again?

Finch: Toppling tourists on Deep Space Nine! I wound up on a goosechase with this stranger who claimed he bought it from you.

Apa: I see. And he left it with you?

Finch: Forced it on me! He said he couldn’t cope with it anymore. Said it was the single worst investment he had ever made. I mean, if I’m being honest with you, it isn’t hard to see why.

Apa: It isn’t?

Finch: Well, you tell me!

The robotic dog chased after its metallic tail at high speeds, circling on the spot with just enough momentum to suck in any wandering insects that happened to glide idly by. Its head was a simple square, and its eyes a vestigial remnant of what was once a set of eyes, now instead a muddied screen of stains and scratches—and a mechanical panting also emanated out of hidden speakers, almost gurgly, as if it had at some point in the past taken a deep dive into a local riverbed, as would any adventuring dog.

In the distance, hovering over the fields, she could see a drone sprinkling water in precise lines, cylindrical and silent, and moving along a dirt path between crops further along was another machine, almost humanoid, brushing and clearing the ground beneath its wheels. A brilliant blend of glistering silvers, browns and greens.

Apa: No… I suppose it isn’t.

Finch: Returning it to you seemed the only right thing to do.

Apa: ::Hesitantly:: You can't take him?

Finch: I would if I could. But I’m a visiting Starfleet Officer. ::She looked down at the dog, biting her bottom lip in thought:: I think it would be better off here, on the farm, where it can run and really, you know, ::waving her arms:: be a dog!

Apa: ::Scratching his head:: I see.

As the three of them stood there, momentarily in silence with only the sounds of the benign winds tickling the tall stalks of the sage coloured crops, Doz did all she could to suppress another memory resurfacing. Try as she might, though, it had become immensely difficult not to dwell on the past. It was as if her mind had become a boundless filigree of memories; an endless spider's web that she, quite like a little vibrating bee, constantly found herself entangled in.

She thanked god that most of her memories were, however, very joyous. Memories such as the image of Murphy’s infectious smile, and the fragmented echoes of his laugh irradiating her thoughts, brightening her eyes from within. Or the better days of her childhood, when her home was a jungle of machines and contraptions thrown together by her brothers who all believed they were going to be the next greatest inventor, even though half of their inventions spewed sparks and had the tendency to spiral out of control. 

She had only ever seen her friend Murphy cry once in all of the years that she had known him, and it had been when the robotic dog that she and he had helped to repair was unfairly seized by another officer, and destroyed. A cruel act by a cruel woman—Gepe Grasa. That was the memory she so carefully tried to ignore.

Apa: Follow me, would you?

Finch: Right you are. Come along, you! ::she said, clapping her hands to the robotic dog::

Apa: I’m not optimistic. It looks quite broken. I think it may be the end of the road for it, but we’ll see what can be done.

Finch: I’m an engineer myself, so I’ll help you however I can.

Apa: Oh, you won't be helping me. I’m just a farmer. It’s my friend who designs the robots and the machines—he’s on the other side of the house, in his little scrapyard.

Finch: In his little scrapyard, eh? Sounds promising!

Apa: Yes. ::A curious look on his face:: Come to think of it… you're quite alike. That “accent”... strange.

As Apa walked around the outside of his farmhouse, made entirely of wood, and decorated with bits of reflective metal and mirror along its beige panels, coruscating under the brilliant light of the sun, Doz and the dog followed behind him, both with quick steps due to their shortness. She smiled at the sights that came into view as soon as they turned the corner; piles upon piles of steel and metal were scattered around a yard, as well as bits of dismantled machinery, bolts and tools, a roofless shuttle and a handful more of the hovering drone she had seen earlier on, some with busied arms and one, even more obscurely, with an umbrella fixed on top of it.

A smile instantly filled her wrinkled face. It truly was a marvel.

The Bajoran farmer stepped over a box of wires, and looked back to Doz with a nervous laugh, as the two of them approached a table, upon which a half-balding man wearing a welding helmet was hard at work, fusing together two components, his back to them both.

Apa: We’ve got a visitor.

The half-balding man didn’t respond, but continued on with his work.

Apa: I said, ::poking the man in his back:: we have a visitor!

The man instantly stopped and turned around, his voice muffled under his mask. Doz tried to contain a laugh.

Apa: We can’t hear you, you old fool!

W. Finch: ::Removing the mask:: I said, you shouldn’t sneak up on an old man like that! I’ll end up having a heart attack, and then you’ll be sorry.

As if she had been winded, air rushed out of her mouth with a gasp, her body stumbling back a touch. It was impossible, improbable, and yet it was true. She squinted her eyes at him, her heart racing in her chest at the unlikely coincidence.

It was her brother Wallace.



Ens. Doz Finch

Engineering Officer

USS Gorkon


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Well done sim, i look forward to the next installment!

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