Bridges Burned

Posted on Mon Sep 27th, 2021 @ 1:27am by Lieutenant Alana Tovan & Lieutenant Erin Whitlam PhD

"Personal Log, Stardate 69882.17. Against my better judgement I've decided to let my father stay with me for a while. I don't know why I gave in after all of the strife he cause me and Mom, not to mention his double cross and betrayal of the asylum granted to him by the Federation. Once a spy, always a spy. Or at least that's what I've always thought. But some how he managed to convince me to give him another chance. I've not told anyone about it so far. I haven't even told Mom. She'd probably disown me for giving in to him. I just felt like I owed it to him for getting him fired from his last job. And it's not like he has many other places to go since Romulus was destroyed."

Alana paced around her bedroom while recording her log entry. She didn't used to like leaving personal logs, and generally considered them a waste of time. But somehow stating her thoughts out loud helped her sort some things out. "It didn't take long before I started to reconsider my decision. In the weeks since he started staying with me, he's done nothing but lay around on the couch and make a mess of my quarters. Every day when I get home, there's somehow more of his meager belongs strewn about than there was the previous day. Picking up after him is exhausting. I'm beginning to understand how Mom felt with I was a child."

"Still, he's my father. And I would probably hate myself if I didn't try to help him." Alana sighed. It wasn't enough that no one was likely to read her logs. She was still harboring a wanted criminal, and could get in serious trouble for it. Keeping records of her crime was not exactly in her best interest. "Computer, delete that entire log entry." The computer beeped in acknowledgement. "I need to get to work," she added to no one. Alana left her bedroom, steeling herself for what she may find in the other room.

“No, no, no!” Khavek thumped the desk and snarled at the smug-looking Andorian on the terminal screen. “You’re not listening to me, Tan! If you can just …”

“You’re the one not listening, Draven,” Tan snapped back, using the alias by which he had only known Khavek. “You’re burned. You’re radioactive. Anybody caught dealing with you will find the Tal Shiar on their ass faster than a hengrauggi on a drakoulias!”

“You won’t get caught! I promise!” Khavek was almost pleading now.

“No,” was Tan’s frigid reply. “Do not contact me again.”

The terminal went blank and Khavek heaved a sigh, staring into the darkened screen as his shoulders slumped. Another attempt; another failure. One by one, all of the vast network of connections he had accrued over decades of service were blinking out of existence. Some, he just couldn’t contact. Others still refused to deal with him.

“This is how it goes, I suppose,” he muttered to himself as he reached his hand out toward the disc-like encryption device he had attached to the terminal. As his fingertips neared the device, he turned his hand, diverting his grasp to the right and a half drunk bottle of Romulan whiskey.

It was almost pitiful watching her father in such a state. The man she remembered him being was very different from this one. Then again, she was seven years old when he double crossed her mother and ran off with her research. Much of what she thought him to be came from her own imagination rather than first hand knowledge. In her head he was some sort of evil master spy. But the man in front of her was nothing more than a disgrace. "Another bridge burned, I see."

Khavek looked up, startled by Alana's appearance. The hand that was reaching to uncork the bottle stopped dead and he placed the bottle back on the desk, like he'd been caught in the middle of a terrible transgression. He supposed he had been, really; there were very few cultures in the galaxy who valued drinking alcohol first thing in the morning. He hadn't slept, but that wasn't an excuse.

He cleared this throat and shifted in the seat. "Yes, so it would seem," he said, his voice hollow and completely lacking in his usual authority. "Very few of my former associates are willing to even take my call. The one's that do at least have the courage to burn me to my face."

"How unfortunate for you," Alana answered bluntly. "Do you have any real plans today, or is your schedule pretty much filled with wallowing in self pity?" She should probably be ashamed of herself, but it was difficult to resist the temptation to confront her father with sarcasm. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't on some level enjoy watching his fall from grace.

The Romulan looked sidelong at his daughter and clenched his teeth. He kept his gaze on her for a moment longer before slowly turning away and reaching again for the bottle. "You must be enjoying this," he said, with an almost sorrowful tone. He pulled the cork and poured a dram into the empty glass next to it. "It must be so gratifying to watch your monster of a father cut so low. I'm sure it seems like ... what is that human phrase?" He replaced the cork and thumped it back in with the palm of his hand as it came to him, "... like I'm getting my just desserts ... for what I did to you and your mother."

"At least you're not completely oblivious to what you've done to your family," Alana bit back. "You put us through hell, while I'm sure you got to go back to Romulus and receive praise from your superiors for a job well done. Did you once ever think about us during all that time?"

He snorted and shook his head. "If you knew how Romulus worked, you'd understand the absurdity of thinking I was praised," he said before pausing a moment, the glass in his hand but never approaching his lips. He sighed and moved the glass. "Tell me something, Alana. If I were to tell you that I thought about you and your mother every day of my life and that I felt a deep, malignant shame about what I did to you every time I did ... would you even believe me?"

Alana narrowed her eyes at him as she thought. Did she believe him? She wasn't sure. But part of her really did hope that he did feel that deep shame. "I don't know. But I'd like to think that you did think about us. Because I'd like to think that you had to feel the same shame that we felt every day of our lives."

"Then believe it," Khavek said before taking a sharp sip of the whiskey. "For it is the truth."

"Yeah, well, forgive me for not believing the known liar." She surveyed the mess that was her quarters. "Can you at least make this place a little more presentable while I'm on my shift?"

He looked around at the mess with disdain, then back to Alana. He sighed and nodded, "I will."

"You better," Alana replied, sounding more and more like her mother. She never would have guessed that she would end up being the adult between her and her father. "Just make sure you stay out of trouble. You know how big of a risk I'm taking having you here." She started for the door to begin her shift. "And maybe think about taking a shower while you're at it too." She mumbled under her breath as she stepped out into the corridor. "Lord knows you need one."

Lieutenant Alana Tovan
Chief Shipwright
Starbase 332

Khavek [P: Whitlam]
Alana's Father