A Gift From the Past
Posted on Wed May 13th, 2009 @ 10:37am by Captain Elsie Halliwell
706 words; about a 4 minute read
Mission:
Wolves in Sheep's Clothing
Location: VIP Quarters
Timeline: Current
ON:
Commander Lane entered the VIP quarters with Altir Kerr still clinging to his strong frame for support. His luggage had already been moved up to his new living space and was packed, neatly, resting at the side of his luxurious couch.
"You're new home," Lane said, walking with him to his bags.
As Kerr looked about him, a smile drifted across his face as he considered the plush furnishings and antiqued art that adorned the room. "And some would say my last home," he replied, continuing to smile.
"Altir!" Lane chastised. "What have I told you? You've barely been onboard twenty minutes."
The elderly Trill merely sighed with a contented expulsion of spent oxygen. "Coltan, my dear child, what have I come here for if not to pass on this gift of mine?"
"I don't like you talking like that, and you know it." he replied, attempting to diffuse his anger.
"It's inevitable, and futile at the same time," his soft voice said as he hobbled over to his bags. "You'll understand everything that is to come when I pass." Lane simply raised an eyebrow to acknowledge his futility. "Never deny an old man his comforts," he chuckled.
As he reached down into one of the small duffel bags that was closest to him, he gently dove in with his right hand and ruffled around the contents to locate something.
"Are you all right, Altir?" Lane asked with a look of curiosity and concern marbled onto his brow.
"Yes, yes, quite, thank you," he said, his head still buried deep. "I have something for you."
Lane stood aghast as Altir produced a small, but decorative box. "What is it?" he asked cocking his head to the side to inspect it.
"A box," Altir replied without missing a beat. "What does it look like?"
Lane simply shot the old man a look and narrowed his eyes as he took it in his hand. "Still haven't lost your sense of sarcasm, I see," he said.
"Never!"
As the wooden, polished box lay in his hands, the glint of the low light over him shone in his eyes. The golden gilt that ran through the wood was dull and blackened with age, but it still held a regal quality that Lane admired. "I've seen this box before," Lane said, twisting it about in his hands.
"You have," Altir replied, matter-of-factly.
As he unfastened the golden clasps at its seam, he lifted open the box with a creak to reveal a silver trinket inside. A ring of solid silver carved with flecks of onyx. Snapping the lid closed, Lane's face grew red with fury that he tried to quash. "Why have you brought this to me, Kerr?"
The elderly Trill did not shrink or react but nodded diplomatically, nose to nose with his friend. "Because you need face up to your responsibilities, Lane. And your past. Taking it with once you're joined is not advised. And I won't allow it."
Lane slumped down on the couch heavily and his face fell as though he dropped his mask of anger to the floor, shattering it into thousands of pieces. "I haven't seen him in twenty years, Altir."
"I know," came the reply. "Once it was announced that you were to succeed me, they both wrote to me. They just want to build bridges again with their son, Coltan."
"I left that life behind me once I stepped onto that transport for Earth."
"And they've regretted that decision you made ever since."
"They knew I wouldn't fit into their society-focused nonsense when I burned that wretched formal suit they tried to make me wear for my 8th Birthday. But they carried on forcing me into that life, regardless."
"They just want to talk to you. To… reach out to the son they lost so long ago."
Standing, and wiping the tear away from the edge of his eye, Lane picked up the box and buried it again deep into Kerr's bag. "Send it back, Altir. I don’t want it."
The elderly Trill picked it out again and left it, in full view, on the glass table before them both. "You send it back."
OFF:
Commander Coltan Lane
Commanding Officer
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