Preparations for Passage

Posted on Mon Apr 6th, 2009 @ 9:25pm by Captain Elsie Halliwell

628 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Wolves in Sheep's Clothing
Location: Lane's Personal Quarters
Timeline: Current

Coltan Lane turned away from the console in his quarters and looked out upon the starfield of space on the other side of the vast window. Leaning gently on the back of his plush couch, a single tear formed at the edge of his eye and balanced precariously on his brown lash. It slid its way down to the end of the lash, weighted and yet clinging on for dear life. He blinked quickly and the salted teardrop hit his fresh skin and then proceeded to roll down his cheek to the kiss of his lips.

Lorelai peered around the frame of the door and looked upon her father. Moving up slowly behind her in a silvering dress was Nana Gray. "Come, Rory," she said in a hushed whisper, placing a delicate hand on her shoulder. "I've told you that we have to leave you father alone for the time-being."

"What's wrong with him, Nana?" she asked, adopting the same hushed tone her elder had.

"A very, very dear friend of his is… gravely ill. And your father will miss him greatly when he is gone, my sweet. Come," she said, steering her away from the door. "How about we get you a cookie, huh?"

The Trill turned back to the screen and subtly wiped his dampened face.

"Coltan," the voice from the console said.

As Lane looked upon the dying Trill, whiting with age and frailty, he bowed his head. The old man, lying underneath the white sheets on a hospital bed, surrounded by the whiteness of hospital walls adorned with the clinical use of white paint, grunted in pain. His skeletal frame was gently covered and only his head and shoulders peered out from under the warmth they engendered. As he lay there, breathing heavily and wheezing, he forced a pained smile.

"Coltan, I have had the necessary papers drawn up. I shouldn’t be too long now," he managed.

"Altir, I have told you before not to speak like that," Lane replied, shortly.

The old man chuckled to himself under his breath. "Oh, how the young fear the loss of death."

"Altir!"

"Coltan, my child, this has been years in coming. And soon enough you will understand the gravity of it all, as I do now. You will still take it, won’t you?"

"Of – of course, Altir. As I promised."

"Good, good," he replied, coughing blood as he struggled. "Should anything happen to me before you can make it back to Trill, I have made arrangements for me to be brought to your location. I don’t want the Symbiont returned to those milk-caves to wait for you."

"Altir," he pleaded. "You know that I would try to tear myself away from this… political storm if I could."

"I know," the aged Trill replied. "I know. But the Citadel Council needs your presence there."

"How do you know about my mission, Altir?" Lane asked.

"Oh, the Symbiosis Commission makes it a point to monitor the movements of the next host… in case."

"Why am I not surprised?" Lane asked, with a scoff. "Coltan Kerr," he said to himself with a sharp exhale of breath and a smile. "Who would ever, in their right mind, pick that name for themselves?"

"You'll get used to it soon enough, Colt," he said with a stifled chuckle. "You've had several years to get used to the idea of it."

"That I have," he said. I do worry, however, about this new crew. I think they have only just gotten used to me as I am… as Lane. Commander Coltan Kerr. A sense of literary irony about it, don’t you think?"

"They shall get used to it soon enough, young man. Soon enough."




Commander Coltan Lane
Commanding Officer

 

RSS Feed