A Space Odyssey - The Vilhon Incident

Historical Note: The events contained within take place 4 years before the events of A Space Odyssey

 
Ensign Tessa Romero sat quietly at the communication station, going over this morning’s dispatches from Fleet headquarters. A recent graduate of the Academy, this was her first deep space assignment and she’d drawn a plum one, a Heracles class starcruiser. Needless to say, she was eager to make a good impression.

As soon as she’d come on board, the head of the communications section and her supervisor, Lieutenant Marshall, took her aside and drilled into her head the proper way of sorting and arranging dispatches and communiqués. It was not according to standard Fleet procedure, but then again, the captain of the Theseus was not the standard ship captain. No, he certainly wasn’t.

Pushing away stray, distracting thoughts, Tessa returned to the task at hand, sorting and prioritizing messages as per the captain’s particular style. Any direct orders for the ship or communications for the captain took the top slots. Border sector reports and major action reports ranked second. Then non Fleet news, reports from the Senate and military news channels, sports scores, and that sort of errata. At the bottom, much to her surprise, came the official Fleet announcements, non binding directives, and promotion orders. She didn’t understand it, but, Lt. Marshall assured her that’s the way the captain liked it.

Slotting the last dispatch into place, this one exhorting Fleet personnel to maintain the highest standards of personal hygiene, Tessa packaged the morning messages and transferred them to a datapad. Transfer complete, she turned in her chair towards the command seat. Standing, she looked at the dark skinned man sitting lightly in the captain’s seat and said, “Sir, permission to leave the bridge to deliver messages to the captain?”

The dark skinned man turned to face her and said, “Permission granted, Ensign.”

Tessa fired off a drill field perfect salute, “Thank you, sir.”

The dark skinned man returned the salute and said warmly, “And Ensign, you’re not in the Academy anymore. There are no drill chiefs around, you can relax some.”

“Of course, sir,” she replied with another salute. She saw the Officer of the Deck’s eyebrow shoot up speculatively as she realized what he’d said. Blushing just slightly, she added, “I’ll try, sir.”

The eyebrow lowered and was replaced with a warm smile. “I know Ensign. Now carry on.”

“Ye.. thank you, sir,” stopping herself from firing off another salute. Managing a rueful smile, she turned and headed for the captain’s ready room. She kept her steps steady but inwardly cursed at herself for looking foolish. How many more ways can I find to screw up?

Stopping at the door of the ready room with datapad under her arm, she pressed the announcement button and said “Ensign Romero with the morning reports, Captain.”

She waited only a second before the doors hissed open. As she stepped inside, the captain looked up from his monitor and fixed her with a welcoming smile. “Good morning Ensign, come in. How are you?”

“Just fine, sir,” she replied with a warm smile. Striding up to his desk, she took that moment to study her captain’s features like she did every morning. His short dark hair and close cropped goatee, his strong chin and bright smile, and his dark eyes. Especially his dark eyes, the color of chocolate, so soft and warm.

A voice cut through her reverie. “Excellent. Those the morning dispatches?”

“Yes sir,” she replied, holding out the datapad. The captain accepted them with another smile, one that left Tessa wondering if maybe the captain knew she had been looking at him. Quashing the horrible thought, she stood a little straighter and fixed her eyes on something less dangerous, the gold captain’s rank pins on his shoulders.

Glancing quickly at the pad, the captain asked without looking up, “Care to give me the highlights, Tessa?”

“Of course sir. The top three entries are orders from Sector HQ at Ansalon Station. First is our orders to return to Ansalon for resupply before we’re given our next assignment. The other two are sealed to command staff only.”

The captain nodded along with Tessa’s monologue as he thumbed through the first entries. She saw one eyebrow arch as he read, but since his lips hadn’t thinned, she figured he was more amused than annoyed. Looking up from his reading, he replied, “I imagine you wouldn’t mind some shore leave after this patrol, would you Tessa?”

“No sir,” she quickly replied with a broad smile. Suddenly realizing just how that might sound, she quickly backpedaled, “That is, I don’t feel overworked or tired at all, sir, but….”

Holding up a hand, the captain cut her off, “Tessa, don’t worry about it. I stumbled a bit the first time my CO asked if I was looking forward to leave. You know what she said?”

“No sir,” replied Tessa, forcing down the flush that threatened to swallow her face.

Smiling, he leaned back in his chair and said, “She said, ‘Bran, the day one of my officers isn’t looking forward to shore leave is the day I bounce ‘em with a Section 8.’ However, she did say it much more… colorfully.” Shaking his head, he laughed a little to himself. Turning his attention back to her, he continued, “It’s a policy I happen to agree with. So you have nothing to worry about when it comes to wanting shore leave. If you didn’t, then I’d be sending you down to the Doc for a full work up.” Leaning forward again, he winked and added, “And considering how thorough she is, I’d pass on that if I were you.”

Despite still feeling foolish, Tessa managed to eke out a smile. She ran one hand through her hair before replying, this time more confidently. “No sir. And I’ll remember that sir.”

The Captain’s smile turned into his trademark half grin. Pointing towards her with the datapad, he laughed, “Good. Then there is hope for you yet, Tessa. The Academy didn’t manage to drive all semblance of humanity out of you.”

“I suppose not Captain,” Tessa replied, a grin cracking through her control.

“Good. Anything else important in this morning’s dispatches?” he asked, turning back to business.

Her smile crumbled. “Yes sir. The initial reports are back from the expedition sent to the Vilhon.”

The Captain’s grin faded as she spoke. “I take it that the mission was less than successful.”

“No sir,” she replied. Desperately she wracked her brain for the most politic way of prefacing the report. There really wasn’t any, so a neutral response seemed best. “It.. it was not.”

The captain’s eyebrow arched as he turned his attention from her to the datapad. She’d only glanced over the report, but what she’d read was grim. An Alliance Expeditionary Group smashed. Not exactly the news she wanted to be delivering.

Not wanting to interrupt her CO as he read, Tessa stood in silence and studied him. All traces of good humor had already fled his features and she could tell from the set of his jaw and the tightness of his mouth that her captain was angry and growing angrier. She’d seen it before when the report of a ship lost came over the comms. Still, he seemed more intent than usual in reading the report.

Suddenly, the captain stopped reading and went very pale. Deathly pale. He was staring at something on the pad and she watched his knuckles go white around where they tightly gripped the datapad. Now concerned, Tessa took a half step forward and asked quietly, “Captain?”

There was no response. The captain just continued to stare, seemingly oblivious to her. She took another step closer. “Captain, are you alright?”

Very softly, he asked, “Have you confirmed this report?”

Confused, Tessa simply replied, “Sir?”

He asked again, this time a little louder but there was a strange edge to his voice, “Have you confirmed this report, Ensign?”

Definitely concerned, she replied, “Sir, it came in from Sector Headquarters with the rest of the daily dispatches. I did the usual confirmations, checking for signs of tampering, but the message integrity was good. Why sir?”

“So you did not confirm the contents of this report with Sector or Fleet HQ? Is that correct?” asked the captain in a flat tone.

“No sir,” Tessa replied, confusion creeping into her voice now. “It isn’t standard procedure to do so.”

“I am fully aware of standard procedures, Ensign, all that was required was a yes or no answer,” replied the captain flatly. Those dark brown eyes locked on to her and they were no longer soft or warm. They were hard and cold, like stone. “Now, even though it is not standard procedure I want you to go back to your station and get a goddamn confirmation on this report. Do I make myself clear?”

Tessa swallowed hard. She didn’t know how, but somehow things had completely spiraled out of control. She’d done something wrong, screwed up the reports somehow and now the captain was furious with her. Images of a career in ashes flashed before her eyes as she struggled with the panic that threatened to drown her. Finally, she remembered her training and fought back. Swallowing hard once more, she said as evenly as she could. “Y..yes sir. May I be dismissed?”

“You are dismissed, Ensign.”

His words boomed in her ears like the sound of emergency pressure doors slamming shut. Saluting, she managed a “Thank you sir,” before turning on her heel and headed for the door back to the bridge. As the doors of the captain’s ready room closed behind her she wondered, What did I do wrong?

But she didn’t have time for such questions. She had a report to check on.

---@@@---

Lieutenant Valygar Corthala leaned forward in the command seat, silently studying the patrol route display on the main viewer. Not that anything particularly interesting was displayed on the sensor readouts. The most exciting thing was a pair of automated ore freighters on the Dorcas run. However, a lack of interesting contacts did not bother him in the least. He’d been in the service far too long to wish for action to come his way. More than enough came his way all on its own.

However, he could tell some of the younger members of the bridge crew did not share his desire for another uneventful patrol. From the way that they stared at the readouts to how they manned their stations, it was obvious to the trained eye that they ‘itched’ for some action. Of course, all of them were recent enough graduates of the Academy to have missed the last Yolandan war and even the last ‘skirmish’ with the Imperium. Looking around at all of the young faces, he silently prayed that their desire for combat would remain unfulfilled.

The cycling of the door hydraulics to his left caught his attention. Turning towards that distinctive sound, he watched another fresh young Academy kid, Tessa Romero, leave the captain’s ready room. Not seeing the captain following her, Valygar was about to turn his attention back to the viewer when he noticed something unusual. Romero still stood by the ready room doors and she had yet to make a move back to her station.

Now curious, Valygar studied the young brunette. Atypical for the young, eager comm tech, she was staring down at the deck, shoulders slumped. This was not her usual posture by any means and Valygar immediately wondered what had caused it.

As he watched, the young woman inhaled deeply, squared her shoulders and headed for her post. She tried to exude an air of confidence and of self assurance, but to his trained eye, it was unconvincing and a cause for concern.

Not to draw too much attention to her, Valygar decided that giving the young woman a few minutes to collect herself would help. Then, quietly, the lieutenant got out of the command chair and padded softly over to the communications station. Putting on hand on her chair, he leaned in and asked softly, “Is everything okay, Ensign?”

Apparently he’d moved too quietly, as the young ensign started at his words. She quickly turned to look up at him, her blue eyes blinking in shock. “What was that, sir?”

“I asked if everything was alright with you Ensign. And sorry for startling you.”

It’s… it’s okay sir,” she said apologetically. He watched her school her face into an impassive mask. “And I’m fine sir, I was just putting together some messages the captain wants me to send out.”

The mask was good, but the confusion behind her blue eyes she could not hide so well. Something had happened in the captain’s ready room, something that had spooked this young ensign badly. Fixing her with a wide smile, he said, “Very good then. Carry on.”

She nodded and turned back towards her console, with Valygar just barely catching the look of relief that flooded her face. He took a few steps back towards the command chair, mulling over the evidence. It was a bit of a mystery, and one he found more interesting than the current patrol route. One he resolved to solve.

Picking up a datapad off of the arm of the command chair, he stared at if for a moment without really looking at the information displayed on its screen. Looking up from the screen, he motioned over to the Khazadan manning the tactical station. “Lieutenant Stonesmith, you have the bridge. There is an issue I need to bring to the captain.”

The short humanoid saluted. “Aye, Lieutenant. I ‘ave the bridge.”

Returning the salute, Valygar strode to the ready room door and pressed the announcement button. “Lt. Corthala here.”

There was no immediate response. One eyebrow arched as the seconds dragged by, the navigator knowing that at least a few of the bridge crew would now be watching. A minute past and now feeling somewhat impatient, he pressed the button once more. This time the door hissed open, and Valygar, his curiosity now thoroughly piqued, entered the room.

It was obvious that there was something amiss, and it did not even take his trained eye to catch the less-than-subtle nuances. Bran sat with his back to the door, his chair facing a viewport. That alone was unusual, but not with out precedent. The open decanter of whiskey with its attendant glass of half-filled amber liquid turned Corthala’s curiosity into immediate concern

Bran did not speak. Bran did not even move to acknowledge his presence, despite the fact that he stood right in front of his desk. Breaking the palpable silence, he asked, “Captain, what’s the problem?”

The chair turned and finally Bran faced him. Picking up the datapad that still rested on his desk, Bran eyed him carefully then tossed it to him. “Read this,” he said softly, his face devoid of expression – any expression.

Snatching it in mid-air, Valygar gave his captain a speculative look. Hefting the datapad, he asked, “What is going on, Captain? What’s with the cryptic answers?”

“Read the queued up part, Valygar, and you’ll understand,” Bran replied tonelessly as he resumed his stare at the endless void on the other side of the transsteel window.

Valygar could feel the muscles in his shoulders instinctively tighten as he turned his attention to the pad. He looked over the first line. Report from Redguard mission to Vilhon Cluster. He now had an inkling of what had put his C.O. in such a bad mood. Having to slog through another pile of Commodore Redguard’s self promotion would make him grab for a bottle. A man who owed his rank and command to his ability to play politics and patronage instead of any real ability, Redguard was universally despised. Especially if you were a mustang, like himself. Still, the most some victory proclamation from this fool would usually do to Bran is cause him to go into one of his more amusing rants. Not break out a bottle. Strange.

Wondering what great sin the man had committed this time, Valygar opened the actual report. The opening lines brought perfect clarity into his captain’s mood.

Initial reports from the Vilhon Cluster indicate Hood Task Force driven from Vilhon Cluster with heavy casualties. Rebellious Vilhon forces ambushed the Task Force in transit to negotiations. Specifics currently under investigation. Casualty list as follows:

Just those few lines stunned the navigator. He looked up from the pad to face Bran, his face grim. Pointing to the pad itself, Valygar managed, “Total defeat? A task force centered around a Fenris class Dreadnought? Redguard’s an idiot, but this, the Vilhonese don’t have any capital ships!”

Bran took a sip from his tumbler and nodded just slightly, his attention barely wavering from his continued stare. “It gets worse. Read on.”

His captain’s expressionless face added to the sinking dread welling in his in the pit of his belly. Left with nothing to do but as his C.O. bid, he continued:

Losses:

GAFV Aurora Nova class carrier, Cpt. R. Velnan commanding. Lost with all hands

“The Aurora? They blew up the Aurora? How in the blazes did they kill a Nova carrier?” blurted out Valygar.

“Frankly, I don’t know how even the Idiot lost this battle, but I imagine it centers on losing her,” answered Bran in a voice of anger mixed with sadness. “But it gets worse. Keep reading.”

Valygar continued on, reading off the names of ships lost. Two of the assigned cruisers, one of the Theseus’s sister ships, the Perseus and the MacIntyre, a Colorado class. The destroyers Resolute, Defiance, and Valiant . And then he came to the next entry. He froze.

GAFV Tilverton Ilipur class destroyer, Cmdr. K. Selna commanding. Lost with all hands.

Valygar stared blankly at the entry, too stunned to speak. Lowering the datapad, he found a tumbler full of whiskey extended to him. Without even thinking, he took the proffered glass and slugged down its contents. The fire in his throat did little to interrupt the shock racing through his mind. As he sucked in a calming breath, he managed, “You were right. It is worse.”

Bran nodded. “When I read the initial lines of the report, I knew it was bad. I knew I lost some good friends. But this… I just didn’t expect that it would be this bad.”

“Is this official?” Valygar asked, holding out some small hope that what he read was just some horrible clerical error.

The expression on the captain’s face went from grim to embarrassed. Raking a hand through his hair, he said, “I’m having Romero confirm it. Although I probably could have phrased my request a little more tactfully.”

Reading the facial expression and the tone, Valygar nodded and said, “So that’s why she looked like she’d been slapped.”

Bran rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Aye. I lost my temper and shouted at her.”

Lips tightening, Valygar nodded and said, “Sir, considering the news, it is understandable.”

A flash of lightening flew behind the captain’s eyes, “No, Valygar, it isn’t. Yes, the news is terrible, but I’m not going to use it as an excuse just because I had a problem controlling my emotions.”

As if on queue, the announcement chime rang again. A second later a familiar voice followed it. “Captain, this Ensign Romero with the confirmation you requested.”

Valygar arched an eyebrow as he listened to her confident tones. Looking at Bran, he said, “This one is a keeper, sir. A rookie willing enough to walk back into the lion’s den after getting the fangs? Most impressive.”

The captain simply shot him a look before pressing the button to allow the young woman entry. The door slid open and the young ensign strode into his office, her back straight and shoulders squared. Watching her from his side of the desk, Valygar saw her eyes sweep over the two tumblers and the open bottle. A moment’s confusion showed around the eyes, but disappeared behind her mask of confidence as she marched forward.

She stopped just short of where Valygar stood in deference to the senior officer and saluted. After the captain returned the salute, she held out another datapad and said crisply, “Sir, as per your orders…”

The captain cut her off with the wave of a hand. Standing, he said, “Just a moment, Ensign. I need to apologize for shouting at you earlier. The report you were carrying contained news that I took poorly, and I took that out on you. It was uncalled for.”

Valygar watched that elaborate mask shatter under those words. Mouth open in shock, she blinked a few times before sputtering, “Sir, I.. I did not understand your orders. There is no need to apologize. None sir.”

Valygar watched a familiar expression cross his captain’s face, one of amused annoyance. “Ensign,” he said pleasantly, “Are you trying to tell me that I should not be apologizing to you?”

“Yes sir --- I mean, no sir,” said the flustered ensign. “I mean…”

“It’s okay Ensign,” the captain said, holding up his hand. “I’ve already bit off your head once today, I think that’s enough. But, some free advice?”

“Yes sir?” managed the baffled comm officer as a pale pink flush stole across her cheeks.

“Never contradict a superior when they apologize. It is a rare event, so cherish it,” replied the captain, even managing a smile.

Valygar watched as a self-conscious smile tweaked the edges of the young officer’s mouth and the pink of her face deepened. “Yes sir. I’ll remember that.”

Maintaining a smile that Valygar knew was taking a lot of his old friend, Bran gestured towards the datapad she held and asked, “I take it that those are the results of your request for confirmation?”

Nodding, she held out the datapad. “Yes sir. I contacted Fleet and Sector headquarters and requested confirmation of all dispatches. They confirmed that all reports we received are correct.”

As he accepted the pad, the captain’s smile faltered. “Thank you for your diligent efforts in this, Ensign.”

“Of course, sir,” she replied. “And I’m sorry for your loss, sir.”

The navigator’s opinion of young Ensign Romero rose another notch. From the tone of the captain’s voice, he expected the captain’s had as well. There was real gratitude in his voice as he said, “Thank you, Ensign. If you will excuse us?”

“Of course sir.” Romero nodded and headed back to the bridge. Once the doors hissed shut, the captain sagged back into his chair and turned his attention to the new datapad. It only took the captain a few moments to look it over and toss it onto his desk. Stepping closer, Valygar looked down at the screen. And there, once again in bold red print ‘GAFV Tilverton Ilipur class destroyer, Cmdr. K. Selna commanding. Lost with all hands.’

“You’re right about Romero, Valygar. She’s going to make a fine officer.” Sighing, the captain picked up his almost empty tumbler and drained the last drops from the heavy crystal. Filling up the two glasses with more of the single malt, he handed one to Valygar and stared at the other. “Gods know we need them, especially after we lost so many good ones in Vilhon.”

Valygar could only nod in agreement, as he slipped into one of the guest chairs, glass in hand.

A heavy silence reigned in the ready room as both men sipped their drinks and stared into oblivion, both caught in memories of a friend now gone. Death was nothing new to Valygar, he’d been in the service too long to not have lost more than his fair share of friends. Not that the fact eased the pain much. It just made adding another face to the gallery of the lost a little easier.

Finally, the captain broke their silence. Putting down his glass, Bran turned to look at Valygar and voiced the question that he hadn’t dared to ask. “Valygar, how am I going to tell her?”

“I don’t know, sir,” replied Valygar. It was not a task he envied his old friend in the least. Especially considering how close the three of them were. “But you have to be the one to do it. If it comes from anyone else, it will only hurt her more. And considering the news, it won’t take long for someone to put it together.”

“I know, V-man, I know,” Bran said, melancholy creeping into his voice. “But how do you tell one of your of oldest friends that her husband and your best friend is dead?”

Valygar didn’t really have to think on the question nor did he really believe that his captain truly didn’t know. “The only way you can, sir. With the truth and with compassion.”

“True enough. But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“No sir, it doesn’t.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Bran pushed away his glass and recorked his bottle. Securing them again in their hiding place, he stood and looked squarely at Valygar. “And waiting won’t do that either,” he said. “Valygar, keep bridge watch until Cmdr. Bledsoe comes on shift. And when he does, take him aside and explain the situation to him. I’d do it myself…”

“But you have more pressing matters to attend to, I understand sir,” Valygar interjected, using the ties of friendship to break with protocol.

“Thank you Valygar. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” said the captain with a nod.

“Of course sir,” he replied. He walked over to his friend and gripped his shoulder. “She’s strong, Bran. She’ll survive. We all will.”

“I know.”

“Just thought that you could stand to hear it one more time, sir,” said Valygar. With that, the dark skinned navigator turned and strode out of the ready room and onto the bridge. As the doors closed behind him, he stopped for a moment to stare at the captain’s chair. As comfortable as the designers’ made it, fickle fortune made it no easy place to sit.

---@@@---

Captain Bran Varnas tugged absentmindedly at his uniform jacket as the lift car doors slid shut behind him. Turning to face the door, he pressed the button for C Deck. The lift car began its effortless descent and despite the gravity and inertial damping, he could feel his stomach sinking down the lift shaft. Or perhaps it was simply the weight of the duty he had to perform. A moment’s reflection caused the captain to side with the emotional burden as his engineer’s maintenance crews were top notch.

Finally, the doors to the lift opened and Bran strode onto C Deck. Unsurprisingly, the corridor was thankfully empty as it was between shifts. With each step he took down the corridor, he drew closer to her quarters but still the proper words refused to assemble. It almost felt like a hopeless battle, trying to find the words to comfort the widow of a mentor and friend. But he had to, it was his duty as both her friend and her captain.

Bran found himself outside her quarters, staring at the name placard by the door Selna, J., Cmdr. A strange thought suddenly struck him as he stared at the simple piece of plastic. Would she keep Selna or go back to Redael? It was an inconsequential thing to wonder about, but he couldn’t help himself.

Tugging at his uniform jacket once more, he took a deep, calming breath and reached out for the door button. And found he simply could not press it. His finger hovered mere centimeters from its polymer surface, but he could not bridge that final gap. Something held him back. That ancient, treacherous beast called fear.

Pulling his finger back, he mentally cursed himself. Here he was, a veteran of far too many battles, a man who’d danced with Death enough times to get asked out for a second date yet he could not summon the courage to tell his executive officer the news of her husband’s fate.

Fortune favors the bold he told himself, quoting that famed line by the ancient Terran poet Virgil. Taking those words to heart, he thrust his finger forward and keyed the announcement call.

And then waited for a response.

Only thirty seconds ticked by, but to Bran, they seemed like hours. Finally, his wait was ended as the door to his X.O.’s quarter’s slid open. And there she was, her golden hair tied back in a ponytail and dressed not in her uniform, but in grey workout togs. She started slightly at the sight of him, her emerald eyes widening slightly.

“Captain,” she said, surprise melting away under years of experience. “How can I help you?”

“Jaheira, do you have a minute?” he asked, falling back on his training to keep the anxiety out of his own voice.

Despite his better efforts, it was obvious that some of it came through. One thin eyebrow arched as she replied, “Of course Captain. I was only on the way to the gym and my workout can wait.”

“May I come in?”

Her eyebrow stayed up this time, but only slightly. Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, then again, most people probably wouldn’t have picked up on anything in his voice. Still, Jaheira said nothing of it, simply gesturing inside and moving out of the way. “Of course, Captain.”

Smiling, Bran stepped into her quarters and looked around. He had been in here many times, but until now, he hadn’t noticed how much the quarters reflected the woman who dwelled in them. Order defined the room, the workstation in perfect order, no clothes draped over convenient furniture and even the few personal mementos arranged to best accentuate the space. Bran found himself focusing on one of them, a simple silver framed portrait of Jaheira and Khalid resting on her desk. The joy in those two faces tore into him and he could not drag his eyes away.

From his behind his shoulder, he heard Jaheira ask kindly, “Bran, can I get you something? Some tea perhaps?”

Fighting back treacherous tears, Bran did not turn to face her when he answered, “No, no thank you Jaheira. I’m fine.”

This time, he could feel her eyebrows arch. “For some reason, I find that statement hard to believe. There is obviously something troubling you. What is it?”

Bran sucked in a long, steadying breath as he turned to face her. He could see the concern etched on her face, the worry in those sharp, green eyes as she told him wordlessly that she knew something was wrong. Once more, his courage flagged, and once more, he forced himself ahead. He had to be the one to tell her, he owed it to her. She deserved to hear it from him. Not by some lifeless, official communiqué saying we ‘regret to inform you’ or even worse, overheard through the ever-chattering Fleet grapevine.

He steadied himself, still searching for his course in this task. Silently, he wished to be forced to face a dozen battle cruisers than the task at hand. “Jaheira..” His control began to slip and his voice crackled with emotion. “The reports are back from the Vilhon Cluster. The Hood Task Force was routed, with heavy casualties.” He watched as her golden skin turned ashen. He wanted to stop, but he was now committed “The Tilverton, the Tilverton…She was lost in action with all hands. I.. I’m sorry Jaheira, Khalid is dead.”

Jaheira stood there silently, her usually green eyes the color of granite. Bran took a step closer, reaching out to steady her, but she slapped his hands away with one violent blow. “No,” she stated, her voice frighteningly emotionless. “No, it can’t be. He can’t be.” She finally looked at him, tear brimmed eyes pleading with him. “It must be a mistake, an error, some bureaucratic screw up. That must be it.”

Once more he reached out to steady her, to offer some sort of comfort, only to have her step away. Hating himself for tearing at those shreds of hope, he managed to choke out, “I’m sorry Jaheira, I truly am. There’s nothing I wanted more than for that report to be a mistake, for it to be wrong.” As he spoke, he stepped closer, this time not being rebuffed. He reached out to her, resting his hands on her shoulders, trying to offer some meager comfort against this terrible news. “But it isn’t. I had it confirmed. Hells, I nearly tore the comm officer’s head off in doing so, but it is official. The Tilverton was lost and Khalid is listed as a casualty.”

“It can’t be true,” she shouted, pounding his chest as tears streamed down her cheeks. Each blow was accompanied by another sob. “It can’t be. He can’t be dead! I need him!”

Bran made no attempts at warding off the blows, letting some of her grief flow through him. Tears now falling freely from his eyes, he said, “I know, Jaheira. I know. And if there was anything I could do to bring him back, I would. But.. but I can’t. Gods that I could, but I can’t.”

The blows stopped and her arms sagged limply at her sides. Taking a few ragged breaths, she looked up at him, ignoring the tears that continued to fall. Voice brittle, sounding like most delicate crystal, she asked, “He really is gone?”

Choking back a sob of his own, he blinked the tears out of his eyes and admitted, “Yes. By the gods I wish it were not true, but he is gone.”

Her only response was another heart rending sob as she collapsed into him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight. One hand rested on her back while the other stroked her hair, offering the small physical comfort that words could not. It felt wholly inadequate, but it was all he could do for her. And that made the pain that much sharper.

Looking up slightly, his eyes found that picture of Khalid and Jaheira that had caught his attention only a few minutes before. Fresh tears streamed down his cheeks as he stared into the smiling face of his lost friend. Somehow, their eyes locked for a moment, the picture acting as a portal to wherever his friend’s soul now dwelled. Looking through that portal, Bran silently swore, I will take care of her my friend. I will help her as best I can, as you helped me when Branwen died. I swear it on what’s left of my soul, my friend.

And somehow, he knew Khalid had heard him.