Captain Kitara
CHAPTER 1
Kitara arrived on the Tempest via the Gateway, strolled down the ramp to meet her First
Officer, Lt. Commander Tatiana Kletsova. She saluted, Klingon style, and waited till Kitara recognized her. Kitara paused, trying to discern the signs that the ship was traveling at Warp. Normally there was a pitch that could be heard, and a slight vibration in the deck plates, but she sensed none of that. Behind Kletsova, about a meter away, a young female Klingon stood by the door. Kitara made eye contact with the adolescent, noting she was carrying a travel pack. The kid seemed impatient to speak with her, a sign transmitted by the facial expressions and the shifting of weight from foot to foot. “Why aren’t we at warp?” Kitara asked.
“I delayed. The Gateway at your estate isn’t up yet, and I wanted to know what you wanted to do about the situation, first,” Kletsova said.
The adolescent started to come forwards but Kitara motioned her to stay. She smartly stopped, but the frustration on her face clearly shone through.
“What’s with the kid,” Kitara said.
“The situation,” Kletsova said in a hushed voice. “She says she Garcia’s child.”
“Pfft,” Kitara said, scoffing. “Why am I not surprised? And you beamed her up?”
“She came up with Larys,” Kletsova said. “She says it’s legit.”
“You don’t have to whisper, I know you’re speaking about me,” the girl said in Klingon.
“Can you say that in English?” Kitara said back to her.
“May I approach?” the girl asked.
Kitara did not seem amused, which influenced Kletsova’s trying to hide her amusement. The girl came closer, adjusting her pack.
“Garcia and my grandfather were brothers. There are no surviving family, which makes Garcia my father,” the girl said. “I demand to see him immediately so that I may start my training.”
“Training?” Kitara said, with a smirk.
“Yes,” the girl said. “I intend to be a great warrior, so I may resume my grandfather’s legacy on becoming an adult.”
Kitara turned to Kletsova. “You should not have allowed her to beam up. Beam her back to Kronos and get us underway.”
“You cannot deny me the right to see my father!” the girl said.
Before the girl knew what was happening, she was on her back, on the floor, with a knife coming down towards her face. At the last second, Kitara pulled the knife to the left so that it tapped on the floor by the girl’s ear. She didn’t even flinch.
“You want training?” Kitara asked, one knee on the girl’s chest and her free hand gripping her neck.
“You are not my mother,” the girl said.
“If Garcia is your father, then I am the closest thing to a mother you have,” Kitara snapped. She sheathed her knife and picked the girl up, setting her on her feet. “You can’t deny me my right to see Garcia,” she said. “And you can’t send me back home, unsupervised.”
“I can put you in a boarding school,” Kitara said,
“Garcia made a pact with my grandfather!” she said.
Kitara was silent for a bit as she considered. “I know nothing of this,” Kitara said.
“Numer One, get us underway, maximum warp. I am going to the Path Finder.” Kletsova saluted and departed. Kitara opened the Gateway and signaled that she was crossing over. She took the girl by the arm and led her through. They arrived on the Path Finder, where Losira greeted them.
“Where’s Garcia?” Kitara asked.
“His office,” Losira said. “He has just concluded a meeting with Barona Shi. If you like, I can contact Tomoko and have his next appointment delayed.” “Please,” Kitara said. “Tell her I will be there in five.” “Of course, and welcome aboard, Captain,” Losira said.
“Captain,” Kitara said.
As they made their way to Garcia’s quarters slash office, the girl began to ask questions. Kitara ignored her.
“You will not ignore me,” the girl said.
Kitara put on the breaks. “You have a name?”
“An’Ko, daughter of the House of Moshe, holder of the Legacy Stone,” she said.
“Do you speak any English?” Kitara said.
“No,” she said.
“Do not speak another word until you do,” Kitara said, and resumed her fast pace, with the girl named An’Ko in tow.
Tomoko greeted Kitara outside Garcia’s door. She saw the seriousness in Kitara’s look and opened the door manually for her to pass in. Kitara told the girl to wait and marched in. An’Ko waited on the threshold, keeping the door open. Kitara’s boots resounded in the room, probably because the lack of carpet and the absence of an abundance of furniture. Garcia was reading a PADD from a chair. He looked up, nodded a friendly smile at the girl standing in the doorway, and then met Kitara with a smile, but remained sitting.
“You didn’t tell me about the daughter,” Kitara said.
“Daughter?” Garcia asked, looking past her to the girl and then back again.
“Did you or did you not make a pact with Moshe?” Kitara asked.
“Yeah, we shared blood and…” Garcia began.
“That is An’Ko, your daughter!” Kitara said, pointing.
“I don’t remember anything about a daughter,” Garcia said.
“Moshe didn’t inform you of the holder of the Legacy stone?” Kitara asked.
“I think he said something about a heir, but because it wasn’t male he needed me to take over the estate on his passing,” Garcia said.
“Are you a complete idiot?!”
“No, just an idiot savant,” Garcia said.
“Your job is to protect and carry the holder of the Legacy Stone until a male of the genetic line has proven himself worthy to resume the Legacy,” Kitara said. “It is your job to see to her education and training.”
“Really?” Garcia asked.
“What did you think he was asking of you?” Kitara asked.
“I thought it was just formalities so we could have a House,” Garcia said. “What’ a Legacy Stone?”
“A warrior or family member, on achieving a certain status, and whose body is available for the ceremony, may be crystalized through use of heat and pressure,” Kitara explained.
“You turn their carbon atoms into diamonds?” Garcia asked.
“Yes,” Kitara said. “It’s what I said. The variation in minerals concentration, plus token possessions and clothing, give each individual diamond its own particular hue, and each deceased can be added to it, fusing the crystals so that it is one solid stone.” “That’s kind of cool, actually,” Garcia said.
“You have earned this ceremony,” Kitara said. “I will see to it you are the first in our Legacy.”
“I said it sounded cool; I would prefer to be returned to a biosphere so that my atoms can be recycled into life,” Garcia said.
“You are to be cremated with ceremony along the lines of my family tradition. I
will wear you,” Kitara said. “For now, what do you intend to do with her?” “Well, she can’t stay here,” Garcia said.
“And she can’t stay on the Tempest,” Kitara said.
“Send her back home,” Garcia said.
“No!” An’Ko said.
Kitara turned to her. “I said no speaking until you learned English.”
“I will not be sent home like some step-child with no favor,” An’Ko said. Garcia forced himself to his feet and approached the girl.
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable at home, in the environment you grew up in?” Garcia asked her.
“Warrior’s care not for their comfort,” An’Ko said. “It is your duty to train me.” Garcia turned to Kitara. “Aren’t you more suited to teach her what she needs to know?”
“She cannot stay on the Tempest,” Kitara said.
“And she can’t stay here,” Garcia said.
“Send her to the New Constitution,” Kitara said.
“Like Undine needs another child on her ship,” Garcia said.
“I am not a child!” An’Ko said.
“English or silence!” Kitara said.
“But…”
“No, buts! Speaking English will demonstrate that you have advanced academically beyond your peers and are capable of becoming a warrior,” Kitara said.
“I’m a warrior! I don’t have to learn a foreign language!” An’Ko said. “By learning a foreign language, you demonstrate that you can learn the mind of an enemy,” Kitara said.
“By learning the mind of an enemy, you risk becoming sympathetic to them,”
An’Ko argued. “And sympathy has made the Empire weak.” Kitara turned to Garcia. “She cannot stay on the Tempest.” “Why not?” Garcia asked.
“Because it is a war ship, we are going into an unknown situation where one ship has already been lost, I am already understaffed,” Kitara said. “And I don’t have time to baby sit someone who is clearly not ready to learn.”
“I am ready to learn anything you can teach,” An’ko said.
“Demonstrate you’ve learned silence,” Kitara snapped. She returned her gaze to Garcia. “And you, Sir, are shirking your responsibilities. It’s not like you are doing anything at the moment.”
“Is that what you think?” Garcia asked. “I’m just sitting around here doing nothing?”
“Apparently,” Kitara said.
Garcia seemed to be fuming, but he contained it by waiting a moment, breathing deep. “You can return to your ship, now, Captain,” Garcia said.
“What about her?”
“Leave her with me,” Garcia said.
“Are you sure?” Kitara said.
“You dragged her all the way over here, with all this drama, only to waffle? Do you have another option you’re concealing behind your back?” Garcia asked.
“Send her home,” Kitara said,
“Regardless of whether I made the commitment in ignorance, if she is my responsibility, then technically she is our responsibility, and I expect you to participate,” Garcia said. “However, for now, I will take over.” “Very well,” Kitara said, turning to leave.
“Oh, and Kitara, I want you to answer my emails,” Garcia said. “We are not naming our child Taruk,” Kitara said, walking away. “Last Shadow is a great name,” Garcia yelled after her.
“It’s fiction,” Kitara yelled back. The door closed behind her without her looking back.
Garcia turned to the girl. “Now, what do I do with you?”
Tomoko came from her office next door. “Losira says we have arrived,” she said.
“Tell her I will be there shortly. Have Tuer escort this young lady to the New Constitution and set up a training program, starting with English. I want Niki and Tama working with her,” Garcia said.
“Aye,” Tomoko said. “Come along.”
“No,” An’Ko said. “You are to train me.”
“Don’t worry,” Garcia told her. “I will fulfill my oath to your grandfather and make you a warrior. I will even train you personally, but you have to jump through some hurdles before I will work with you. And, I have an appointment. Now, you will go with Tomoko, and you will treat my officers as an extension of myself, is that clear?”
“This is not fair,” An’Ko said.
“Oh, good for you,” Garcia said. He drew very close to her, clearly pushing past her boundaries of comfort. “Prepare yourself. This sense you’re holding, well, it’s going to get worse before it gets better. Thanks, Tomoko.”
CHAPTER 2
Unauthorized excursions were practically impossible for an Admiral on a Starship, but when one considered the number of people looking out for Garcia, it was more challenging than ‘practically.’ Not impossible, just more challenging. He cleared it with Tomoko to spend a few days at Club Bliss, no meetings, just pure R and R. Not surprisingly, she agreed, and Losira personally delivered him, believing he was just going to relax, eliminate some stress. It helped that Cleo was willing to play along, at a small price. The price, he had to finally come even on his promises to spend time alone with her. Had anyone known that he had booked a flight on a Ferengi transport direct to Feringinar, not only would there have been a resounding ‘hell no,’ he would likely have been put under guard. His Alias, Jeremy Vale, paid sufficient funds to have the Ferengi Captain expedite him to the planet and so, within 24 hours of having been beamed up, with nothing but the manifestation orbs and Gold Press Latinum in a backpack, he was beamed down to a receiving alcove at the Sacred Market. His first sight from the alcove was the Tower of Commerce in the distant, shining through rain and mist, which surprisingly added to its glory. It probably lacked glory under a sun and blue sky. An attendant rushed him off the transporter pad, offered him a water proof map of the market, for one gold pressed Latinum slip.
“No, thank you,” Garcia said.
“Ahh,” he said. “You have been here before, hu-man?”
“Um, no, I just like traveling without a map,” Garcia said.
“Ahh. Good choice. No specific destination increases the likelihood of impulse shopping,” the attendant said. “Either you like your beer or you’re carrying a lot of GPLs in your belt-wallet,” pointing to the bulge of the portable womb.
“Does my habit really show?” Garcia played along, patting his ‘beer belly.’
“I love customers who drink,” the Ferengi said, pushing a sample towards him. “If you’re carrying gold pressed Latinum bars, it would be best to store it here in my vault. I could issue you a credit card for the value, plus extra credit, if you like.”
Garcia hesitated. There was value in looking like a simpleton. “Well, I do tend to get confused between the slip and the strip,” Garcia said, revealing the content of his money belt.
The attendant laughed. “Yeah, I don’t know who is worse, the merchant who take advantage of unsophisticated shoppers, or the Knuckle Draggers.” “Knuckle Draggers?” Garcia asked.
“Oh dear, this is your first visit to our lovely planet, eh?” the attendant said. “The Knuckle Draggers is one of the toughest gangs this side of the planet. What would humans call it? Mafia? You will know them by their gait, and when they attack they swing their arms and beat their chest. If you see that, you best just run and hope you’re faster than a whip.”
“Oh, dear. They sound fierce,” Garcia said.
“They are. Scary fierce. It would be much safer to leave your GPLs here in the vault. The Knuckle Draggers won’t use credit cards, cause all transactions have to go through electronic security, which leaves a tax trail,” the attendant said. Garcia removed his poncho, took off his back pack, and removed two GPL Bars from the back pack. For an initial investment of ten slips, Garcia bought a locker for his currency, closed it up, pocketed the key, and finalized the arrangement with the attendant.
“I can get you some no fattening beer if you like,” the attendant said, pointing to Garcia’s stomach.
“It’s not that bad, is it?” Garcia asked, patting his belly back, concealed beneath a Chinese styled shirt that hung loose down to his thighs. The portable womb was against his skin today, as it was easier to conceal.
“Yeah,” the attendant laughed. “If I didn’t know you were male, I would say you’re pregnant.”
“I will cut back on my drinking then,” Garcia said.
“Why do that when there is calorie free. Little pricier, but it does the trick. I guarantee you’ll have a buzz in half the time as regular, without the hangover.”
“I better learn my way around before I start getting drunk,” Garcia chuckled, putting his poncho back on, over his back pack making it harder to steal from his pack, and keeping it dry. He felt bad that he was even thinking that there might be thieves amongst the local population, looking to take advantage of an unsuspecting tourist, but capitalist markets encouraged thieves. Still, there were social experiments done in old New York to prove that New Yorkers were not as bad as rumors. A ‘tourist’ would leave a wallet with a large sum of money and each taxi driver that found it went out of his way to return the wallet. Interestingly, each one that returned it also warned the ‘tourist,’ “Better be more careful. There are a lot of thieves in New York.”
“Wise. May you find what you’re shopping for. It is a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Vale,” the attendant said. He handed him a calling card. “Just call me if you need directions to any specialized services. Women, wine, lodgings.”
“You’re very kind,” Garcia. “Thank you.”
Garcia pulled the hood up and stepped out into the street and the rain. Orions weren’t the only one buying and selling females, but he was surprised to see a brothel so openly displayed. He struggled between judgment and non-judgment. It was their world, and comparatively, they did tend to treat their ‘female merchandise’ better than some races. After all, damaged merchandise was harder to sell. And then there was the little fact he was also running a fairly lucrative brother himself. He walked to the outskirts of the Sacred Market, hailed a taxi, and showed the credit card to the driver.
“I don’t take energy credits,” the driver said. “But the transporter attendant said…”
“I don’t care what he said. It’s ten slips for every kilometer,” the driver said. Garcia revealed that he was still carrying GPL’s, having held some back just for this sort of crisis.
“Ahh, hello friend. Come in the cab, where it’s dry and warm,” the driver said.
Garcia made himself comfortable. He took out a PADD, made a visible pretense of flipping through a tourist book, and then retrieved GPS coordinates. “I would like to go here.”
“That district is restricted,” the driver said.
“I have a friend that lives there. I want to surprise him,” Garcia said. “What I’m saying is that I can’t take you there without buying clearance and that’s extra,” the driver said.
Garcia frowned. “That might ruin my surprise,” Garcia said. “Umm, how much to deliver me within walking distance of this address?”
“You’d be fairly conspicuous in that neighborhood, you being so tall and all,” the driver said.
“My problem. How much?” Garcia asked.
“Fifty slips,” he said.
“Twenty Five,” Garcia countered.
“Forty,” the driver said.
“Thirty five or I get out and hail another cab,” Garcia said.
“Deal,” the driver said. He immediately kicked on the drive and the taxi rose into the air. “There is a compulsory ten dollar smoking tax.” “I don’t smoke,” Garcia said.
“That’s why there’s a tax,” the driver said. “Everyone pays.”