Designated Survivor

Posted on Wed Nov 3rd, 2021 @ 12:27pm by Caithlin t'Leiya

1,702 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Frizzle
Location: Undisclosed Location Near The Federation-Romulan Border / Haumea Colony
Timeline: Late 2390 / Present Day, After Return Of The Missing Students

The recording of the scene was, undoubtedly, exceedingly classified to the highest levels and degrees. A fact which would probably have made its subject feel only the most marginally better, if at all, about its existence; and of which there was no force in the universe capable of improving said subject's view of the incident itself or her actions in it.

A sparse room, the sort one might use for longer term holding of a subject who was not technically a prisoner, but was also perhaps not free simply to leave either; the angle of the camera was on the table and chair, but in the background behind the primary subject, two much smaller ones, no larger than a preschooler at most had they been human, could be seen, huddled on a cot in the corner, tiny pointed ear-tips peeking out from the blanket they were bundled in. One got the feeling from the way it was stuffed behind awkwardly, though, that this was perhaps not the thing's usual placement; that the subject in question was unwilling to let anyone near the two smaller figures without placing herself in between. It was perhaps why the interview was being conducted in the room, rather than elsewhere; the table was too large for the room for that matter, a sign that things had gone badly perhaps during any prior attempts to separate the trio even briefly, and the owners of the space had been forced to improvise in a variety of ways.

The recording of the scene, like the variety of ones which proceeded it if one had access to the entire, rather more lengthy series of them, began the same way: With questions asked of haggard looking woman seated at the table, and met with silence, or refusals, or dissembling, or smaller pieces of information or previously known data divulged that clearly did not satisfy those asking. This time, however, was different; in the fourth hour of the tape, the pale and exhausted face crumpled and the green-bloodshot eyes shifted from exhaustion or defiance, calculation and determination, pleading, or even simple endurance, to a haunted surrender and a blank but horrified gaze fraught with the same deep shame heard in her voice as she finally began to speak for the record things the parties off camera considered worthwhile. Considered worth the price of granting a former member of the Romulan Senate - a member of the body after the disaster, true; but hardly uninvolved in politics prior as well - protection and sanctuary in their territory; despite the issues it might lead to with the various would-be successor groups or the enemies she was fleeing, not to mention anyone in their own space who might have issues with the decision.

From the perspective of Federation intelligence; it had all been finally various information worth the trouble of providing such protection and leave to remain in Federation space to such a potentially controversial figure; of guaranteeing not only the right to stay, but protection for the woman and her children as best they could from the various threats that would likely continue to stalk her.

For Caithlin, however, it was the stuff of nightmares; the Romulan psychological equivalent of the level of trauma that might wake a human for decades to come or the rest of their entire life in a cold sweat screaming (and that in fact, occasionally did even in this case), and the moral equivalent and level of bone deep shame of having sold or sold out ones country or empire, ones firstborn, and ones very soul. Outright betrayal of her people, baring of significant secrets entrusted to her, to those who would no doubt use them against them. All to save her three year old children, from the enemies that would have killed them had she remained any longer in Romulan space. In the time between the nova, the birth of the twins shortly thereafter, and the fall of the Empire outright three years later, and in the six months she had tried to survive in what became after that, her enemies had subjected her offspring to everything from explosions and attempted poisonings to knives to their small throats and disruptor fire; but in the end it was this that above all else Caithin hoped above all they had been too young to remember; the anguished sob/shriek that had echoed around the room as she had finally broken before the inescapable corner she was backed into, and the things she had said and done afterwards, as any man might have broken before the Tal Shiar. But the Federation's men had never had to touch her even to accomplish such. Only to oh-so-blandly and repeatedly, innocently and coyly, and in the end, chillingly and with forceful intent, make clear they would otherwise return her across the border and leave her and her children to those who would. It was the sort of technically-clean hands by the master players in an otherwise brutal game that she might have admired, had it been of a different outcome and players. Had it not been her children and the last of her house at stake.

Quite honestly hers was a shame and dishonor compounded further by having chosen to continue to survive beyond that. By choosing to not assuage her disgrace, once her mission of safety for her young was accomplished after their delivery to her sister and brother in law on Earth, on the tip of her own blade. But she did not have that luxury: She held no misconceptions that the Federation's personnel would succeed in stopping all such threats, even if they bent their whole will and skill to it; or that her own death would mean old enemies or new ones would all give up with such an action rather than take the opportunity to make the final blow to the last of her family. No. She had to live, to continue to protect Arenn and Telek. All the moreso even beyond those facts even for that matter, to guide them through the strange land around them now, and the aliens that would resent them as often as they welcomed them.

And so she had; and not just with resigned drifting through time and space, but with force and focused pursuit of that which might further those goals: She had torn through Federation law school and study for their 'bar exam' in practically record time; had when the time came where she might apply for Federation citizenship, had actually done so for herself and her young, aiming to reduce further the odds they might someday be ejected from the relative protection she had found them.

But.

But everywhere she went on Earth, they had stared. Sometimes in quite hostile a manner that led to confrontations despite all her efforts to avoid such; but even when simply as a curiosity or a thing that stood out and did not belong, it was exhausting. She began quickly to understand why her sister rarely left the house despite her far longer time on the planet. Her brother-in-law, like many former security officers or law enforcement types, was fairly decent at blending in if he wished: Walking down a random street, most probably thought him a Vulcan worth little notice. Aliereth on the other hand, like many engineers human and Romulan alike, was significantly less skilled at it, not only versus security types but versus most people, period. And as for Caithlin herself...Well. She had decent enough skills in such a manner, but lacked the fifty years in Federation space (and accompanying observations) that let Tal even make such an attempt let alone succeed at it--from her bearing and body language to her native tongue or the particular accent her voice took on once she had learned Federation languages, she practically screamed at many bystanders her true nature, regardless of what she wore or what she did or did not do or say. And quite frankly, having surrendered so much, she was uninterested in pretending to be an alien for the rest of her life, and even less interested in her children having to. It had been this, more than anything else, that had led her to the job with Bray; to look to relocate from the Federation core worlds. The first three suggestions she had submitted, prior to taking the Bray job, had been rejected outright by her silent protectors; theoretically on the grounds given that they were worlds too public and well known easy for her to be tracked to, yet too small to have a decent defensive presence, or that they were expected to be even more unwelcome than on Earth; or in one case, without any reason provided at all. Haumea, her fourth suggestion after overhearing the name "Bray Foundation" in a conversation between her nieces and family friend Gunnar Arnason, finding the organization in question in the Federation database, and deciding the planet looked decent enough for perhaps someday being able to leave her house without being gawked at, had been accepted.

So far, Caithlin thought wearily as she considered the way the man in the crowd had sneered at Tal; the way he had been all too willing to accuse both her brother-in-law and herself to not caring for their children, to imply for that matter that the Vulcans, his fellow Federation world, did not care for theirs either, and that that assumption meant he thought it was improper for the man to have authority over the local school...So far, while promising the first couple of weeks, it was perhaps not any longer turning out as well as she had hoped, at the moment. This train of thought was interrupted though by the first of the announcements becoming clear that the group containing her nieces had been located and was making to return, and she set aside the rest of it for later and focused once more on the immediate issues at hand.

RSS Feed