Post by Deleted on Feb 15, 2016 21:21:51 GMT -8
OOC:
Note to those new to Desan and his story… this is part of an extended epic called “The Beauty of Gray,” which can be found here: usstalon.proboards.com/thread/5360/beauty-gray-uss-talon-novel
That said… this should ideally still be enjoyable on it’s own :-D We’re covering a lot of ground here, so go grab your favorite caffeine, sip from it mightily, and dive in.
Dakbar is Marian’s character; he is written by me for purposes of this story, and the storyline has admin approval. He is presented here in “flashback” which may be subject to the distortion of inexact memory.
-------
Deputy Director Kayden Desan was not a man accustomed to not getting his way. Sure, as he briskly walked through the corridors of Starfleet Command, everyone jumped to get out of his way. And yes, this was kind of a new development with him actually wearing his full pips on his jacket, with his pressed dressed whites and his confident demeanor. But if he liked pomp and circumstance, he’d be an Admiral by now, and realistically with his specific… skillset… he worked best in the shadows.
And that wasn’t just the blonde he’d had last night talking.
Still, the fact that he was at Starfleet Command in the first place-- not to mention Earth herself-- was a tremendous grievance of his. What needed to be done could easily be done via the comm system, and thus the only reason he’d been called into HQ was because some Admiral overly concerned about the insufficiency of his own member had sought to pony show Desan around to prove a point. Desan idly debated just what point that was as he walked to the furthest conference room away from main transporter pads into HQ. Sure… in the 25th century, transporting directly there would have been a far more efficient procedure for all involved, but even on Earth, there were those who wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of an inconvenient Admiral.
And truthfully, if Desan knew he could get away with it… he’d probably rid the ‘fleet of them all. Not out of some treasonous urges-- much less any thought that he’d do the jobs himself, because he was far above such repugnancy-- but rather that he could think of a half dozen candidates, most of whom were Lieutenant rank or below, who would be more efficient taskmasters.
The corners of his lips quirked up ever so slightly as he thought of the utter chaos that would transpire should he ever speak such thoughts aloud. “Deputy Director,” came a voice behind him, and he rendered his face neutral again. “Yes?” he said, whirling about on one excessively polished bootheel. He looked down… then further still. Why are they always Tellarites? “Commander glov Kefirsh,” he acknowledged.
“We’re in room 1,” the Tellarite’s voice inferred that Desan should be awed.
Desan wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction, “Yes. Rather inconvenient.” If his tone was any dryer, the Tellarite’s raisin-like visage may have shriveled further still.
The Tellarite scowled, but wisely held his response. As the pair continued in silence, Desan was aware of the sideways looks being shot in his direction by his diminutive companion. There was no way the Tellarite knew who he was; legally and technically, that was classified above most levels. Which meant that the Tellarite was clearly hoping to gauge something from observation alone. Desan stuck out his chest and swaggered his hips a bit more, in a movement some had termed the “Riker,” but that Desan preferred to call the Command Waddle. When he’d pointed it out at the Admiral’s Ball a few years prior, he’d made some great friends. He wouldn’t know if it was successful or not, as they reached the door to the conference room, and the Tellarite held back. “Good luck, sir.”
Desan nodded, then entered the room. It was all he could do in this hallowest of places not to laugh. The lighting was all dimmed, and the Admirals-- for it was inconceivable that they were anything less-- were seated up in a raised dais. So dim were the lights that he couldn’t identify his “interrogators,” though he mentally guessed about 7 names and resolved to narrow it down over the course of the discussion.
“Deputy Director.”
He was already 1 for 1. “Admiral Dorsett.”
“Please take a seat.”
Desan didn’t need to be told where. The one well lit spot in this room was the seat that was for him. It was almost gauche how big of a deal was being made about this meeting. He sat down into it easily, noting that it had already been cranked all the way up to accommodate his large frame. Then again, when you dealt with the “Starfleet Intelligence Council,” you found that details were seldom overlooked. On paper, it was a somewhat guarded secret which Admirals were on this team, but in reality it was more apparent than their respective mistresses.
“You know why you’re here today?”
“Truth be told, I do not. I’ve been debriefed about this situation several times since it transpired, both before and after the war. I’ve been cleared of wrongdoing, I’ve been performing my duty admirably for months, and my most recent review was stellar,” Desan replied.
“I understand, Deputy Director.” Already, Dorsett was grating on Desan’s nerves. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had adhered to the Deputy part of his rank beyond the initial greeting. “We’d like to go over a few things with you one more time, pending your transfer to Deep Space 10.”
“Of course.” Never mind how much he should have been spending this time with his protege at Starbase Gamma Etimon to ensure that nothing was missed during the changeover in leadership.
“Let’s begin with the wormhole incident, shall we?” Dorsett requested.
It was a safe spot to begin with. The wormhole inadvertently located by his sister’s team while they were attempting to rescue the family of Helik Dakbar from a Cardassian Internment camp had done tremendous good to the Federation and to the Alpha Quadrant as a whole. “Of course. The vessel that Lieutenant Kayden Rychel was flying in through Cardassian territory had been struck by Cardassian pursuers. There was an anomalous reading that they had noted that bore some similarities to the Gamma Quadrant wormhole. In desperation, they pointed their ship in its direction, and fortunately for their sake, it was a second wormhole.”
“But this wasn’t an immediate process, was it not?” Admiral Turner contributed. So far, Desan was batting a thousand.
“No sir.”
“Can you explain that a bit.”
“Certainly. That wormhole has two termini; one in the Alpha quadrant, one in the Gamma. Though the Alpha quadrant terminus is in normal space, there is significant chroniton imbalance in the sector of space the Gamma quadrant terminus is located in, resulting in substantial temporal distortions. While the away team only perceived their trip as taking a few moments, it was in reality weeks.”
“How did you spend this time, Deputy Director?” Admiral Sha’Vok said. She was name 7 on his list; a half-Vulcan, half-Betazoid former counselor. He’d been on the fence over whether she was a member of the Council at all; and surely if any event would have prompted her to show her true colors on the matter, this was the one.
“Working.”
Desan swore he heard her eyebrow quirk up. “Working?”
Desan noticed his pulse was accelerating, and he slowed his breathing to compensate. He needed to keep his cool if this was the direction they were going. “First, I called…” he hesitated for a brief moment, uncertain how to best describe them. “Our parents and notified them of Lieutenant Kayden’s death. In accordance with Rychel’s wishes, she had a Starfleet funeral. The entire family was in attendance. Then I returned to my duties on the Starbase.”
“You did not feel that you should take additional leave?” Sha’Vok said.
“When my siblings started following the path I’d started down, I had to confront the fact that one day, one of them might die. Was I upset with her loss? Incredibly. But… Rychel was-- and still is-- one of the most faultlessly selfless people I’ve ever known. She would have wanted me to get back to my work, because she saw my work as something that helped people throughout the Quadrant.”
Sha’Vok must have been satisfied by that response, as she paused for a moment, and then said, “Let’s discuss when you became aware that Lieutenant Kayden was still alive.”
“Not her specifically. But… there are certain sorts of communications that I strictly monitor in all areas of the Gamma Quadrant. The message was over a standard channel used by my personnel and using a codespeak that is specific to those within my inner circle. Despite the incredibly anomalous nature of the location, I had to investigate.”
“Would you have done so were this not involved with your sister’s disappearance?” Turner asked.
“I would for any member of my inner circle. As I should. They are all critical assets, including Lieutenant Kayden.” The last point was a gamble. It could make him look like he considered his sister on the same playing field as the rest of his staff. It was true… but that didn’t necessarily mean that he wanted the Admiralty knowing that. It was enough that he knew it was his weakness. It was another entirely when the higher ups did.
“Fair. So continue from the point at which your vessel dropped out of warp in the Ædolyn sector,” Dorsett said.
Desan nodded, collecting his thoughts. Sure, he’d recited this same spiel 17 times now, but it couldn’t look rehearsed. “The USS Phaeton is a heavily modified Sabre-class vessel, with a highly developed cloaking device in addition to a full suite of other espionage technologies. We were aware of the chroniton situation in that sector because of the experiences of two USS Talon crew members. Still, we were unprepared by just how much it would impact our entry to the area. When we emerged from warp, our sensors weren’t showing anything in that location. However, an armored carrier belonging to the Ædolyn fleet was right in our entry location. Though our pilot took evasive action, we struck the vessel, which lacked energy shielding. The Phaeton sliced through the carrier, destroying it nearly instantly.”
“And the status of the Phaeton?” Another voice, and this one broke his streak.
“Still bitter about that, are we Etaera?” Desan joked, a rare full smile on his face.
“She was fresh from drydock when I gave her to you!” Etaera said.
“The Phaeton took moderate damage in the original crash, but was largely functional. Shields were holding at 80%, we had warp 5, and weapons were at 85% capacity. We then took additional damage a half hour later, when the Ædolyn fleet arrived. We attempted to open communications, and to alert them that the destruction of their vessel was unintentional, and that we would make any reparations necessary to resolve the loss of their vessel.”
“And what was the status of Lieutenant Kayden’s vessel?” Turner asked.
It was in bad shape, but we ascertained that it was intact and that it’s occupants were largely healthy before we were attacked. The Ædolyn considered their vessel of no consequence as it had not been involved in the collision.”
“You said the crew on the other vessel was largely healthy?” Sha’Vok said.
She was really good at asking the questions Desan least liked fielding. “While in the Internment Camp, Rychel had a device implanted that would stop her heart. It was not a device that my doctor could remove in the field, as it was deeply embedded in her spinal column and close to a lot of arteries.”
“Back to the Ædolyn?” Dorsett prodded.
Desan was happy to oblige. “The extremely simplified version-- as initial communications were extremely tedious-- was that the Ædolyn were aware it wasn’t on purpose, but due to the value of the cargo on the vessel, their people would demand a trial.”
“And what was that cargo?” Dorsett asked.
“Ædolyn gametes,” Desan said. “There was a crippling genetic disorder that was causing their species to die out. It was the result of previous genetic modifications by another race that had enslaved them. There were occasional instances of gametes that did not possess this disorder, but it was very rare. As such, they were harvested from Ædolyn of reproductive age. Though many of the gametes in the shipment were unviable due to the disorder, there were more viable eggs than any previous harvest in Ædolyn history. They believed that the cargo vessel could ensure the survival of their species, and that we had all but guaranteed their extinction. They planned to stage whatever semblance of a war they could muster against any Federation forces they could encounter.”
“That is a rather emotional reaction,” Sha’Vok said.
Desan shrugged, “It is a bit excessive, yes. But, it was a desperate situation, and they were no more irrational than most species would be under similar circumstances. Regardless, they wished to imprison five of us until a trial could be held. Though their genetic research was somewhat lacking, their medical facilities were good, and we requested the ability to remove Rychel’s implant.
“During this procedure she nearly died?”
“That is correct,” Desan said. “Rychel’s heart was previously pierced by a part of bone in an accident. Though the doctor who tended to her was one of the best in Starfleet, he certainly could not have predicted that she would have such a device implanted. The removal came very close to tearing her heart in two. But again, she had great doctors.”
“And what were you doing while this was occurring?”
“We’d decided it was best not to tell the Ædolyn that Rychel and I were related in case they wanted to use leverage. To be clear… the Ædolyn aren’t bad people, the situation was just desperate for them. I feel that in presenting the events in such a setting some of that is lost. Regardless… I was being interrogated and tested.” Reflexively Desan clenched his fist ever-so-slightly, then immediately relaxed it. Stay cool.
He closed his eyes as he spoke, and in his mind’s eye, he was there.
“Did they test you?” Desan asked, looking over at his companions. While their doctors worked on Rychel, he and Dakbar were residing in a holding cell. All things considered, it was a nice one, but captivity rankled Desan.
Dakbar nodded, his eyes narrowing a bit at the memory.
“Do you think…” Desan trailed off. He only had the inklings of an idea forming in his mind and he wasn’t yet confident enough to voice it aloud.
“They have another use for us?” Dakbar said.
“It’s intriguing,” Desan said. “Maybe we can get out of this one after all.” He lapsed into silence, considering the potential. It only took a moment before the Ædolyn leader returned, and revealed the reason for the testing.
Outwardly, the Ædolyn appeared mostly human, though with ears that swept up from the sides of their heads, and nearly touched atop. Their array of skin colors was more varied as well, with this individual-- whose name Desan wouldn’t be able to pronounce if he devoted the remainder of his life to it-- was a lavender hue. “We are considering a deal.”
Desan had a sinking feeling, and judging by the expression on Dakbar’s face, he wasn’t the only one skeptical.
“The red one,” the Ædolyn said. Desan prayed that no one called Rychel that to her face. “Her DNA… it was not right. Yours was.”
“Right?” Desan asked, perplexed.
“To fix that which troubles our people.”
To Be Continued…
Note to those new to Desan and his story… this is part of an extended epic called “The Beauty of Gray,” which can be found here: usstalon.proboards.com/thread/5360/beauty-gray-uss-talon-novel
That said… this should ideally still be enjoyable on it’s own :-D We’re covering a lot of ground here, so go grab your favorite caffeine, sip from it mightily, and dive in.
Dakbar is Marian’s character; he is written by me for purposes of this story, and the storyline has admin approval. He is presented here in “flashback” which may be subject to the distortion of inexact memory.
-------
Deputy Director Kayden Desan was not a man accustomed to not getting his way. Sure, as he briskly walked through the corridors of Starfleet Command, everyone jumped to get out of his way. And yes, this was kind of a new development with him actually wearing his full pips on his jacket, with his pressed dressed whites and his confident demeanor. But if he liked pomp and circumstance, he’d be an Admiral by now, and realistically with his specific… skillset… he worked best in the shadows.
And that wasn’t just the blonde he’d had last night talking.
Still, the fact that he was at Starfleet Command in the first place-- not to mention Earth herself-- was a tremendous grievance of his. What needed to be done could easily be done via the comm system, and thus the only reason he’d been called into HQ was because some Admiral overly concerned about the insufficiency of his own member had sought to pony show Desan around to prove a point. Desan idly debated just what point that was as he walked to the furthest conference room away from main transporter pads into HQ. Sure… in the 25th century, transporting directly there would have been a far more efficient procedure for all involved, but even on Earth, there were those who wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of an inconvenient Admiral.
And truthfully, if Desan knew he could get away with it… he’d probably rid the ‘fleet of them all. Not out of some treasonous urges-- much less any thought that he’d do the jobs himself, because he was far above such repugnancy-- but rather that he could think of a half dozen candidates, most of whom were Lieutenant rank or below, who would be more efficient taskmasters.
The corners of his lips quirked up ever so slightly as he thought of the utter chaos that would transpire should he ever speak such thoughts aloud. “Deputy Director,” came a voice behind him, and he rendered his face neutral again. “Yes?” he said, whirling about on one excessively polished bootheel. He looked down… then further still. Why are they always Tellarites? “Commander glov Kefirsh,” he acknowledged.
“We’re in room 1,” the Tellarite’s voice inferred that Desan should be awed.
Desan wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction, “Yes. Rather inconvenient.” If his tone was any dryer, the Tellarite’s raisin-like visage may have shriveled further still.
The Tellarite scowled, but wisely held his response. As the pair continued in silence, Desan was aware of the sideways looks being shot in his direction by his diminutive companion. There was no way the Tellarite knew who he was; legally and technically, that was classified above most levels. Which meant that the Tellarite was clearly hoping to gauge something from observation alone. Desan stuck out his chest and swaggered his hips a bit more, in a movement some had termed the “Riker,” but that Desan preferred to call the Command Waddle. When he’d pointed it out at the Admiral’s Ball a few years prior, he’d made some great friends. He wouldn’t know if it was successful or not, as they reached the door to the conference room, and the Tellarite held back. “Good luck, sir.”
Desan nodded, then entered the room. It was all he could do in this hallowest of places not to laugh. The lighting was all dimmed, and the Admirals-- for it was inconceivable that they were anything less-- were seated up in a raised dais. So dim were the lights that he couldn’t identify his “interrogators,” though he mentally guessed about 7 names and resolved to narrow it down over the course of the discussion.
“Deputy Director.”
He was already 1 for 1. “Admiral Dorsett.”
“Please take a seat.”
Desan didn’t need to be told where. The one well lit spot in this room was the seat that was for him. It was almost gauche how big of a deal was being made about this meeting. He sat down into it easily, noting that it had already been cranked all the way up to accommodate his large frame. Then again, when you dealt with the “Starfleet Intelligence Council,” you found that details were seldom overlooked. On paper, it was a somewhat guarded secret which Admirals were on this team, but in reality it was more apparent than their respective mistresses.
“You know why you’re here today?”
“Truth be told, I do not. I’ve been debriefed about this situation several times since it transpired, both before and after the war. I’ve been cleared of wrongdoing, I’ve been performing my duty admirably for months, and my most recent review was stellar,” Desan replied.
“I understand, Deputy Director.” Already, Dorsett was grating on Desan’s nerves. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had adhered to the Deputy part of his rank beyond the initial greeting. “We’d like to go over a few things with you one more time, pending your transfer to Deep Space 10.”
“Of course.” Never mind how much he should have been spending this time with his protege at Starbase Gamma Etimon to ensure that nothing was missed during the changeover in leadership.
“Let’s begin with the wormhole incident, shall we?” Dorsett requested.
It was a safe spot to begin with. The wormhole inadvertently located by his sister’s team while they were attempting to rescue the family of Helik Dakbar from a Cardassian Internment camp had done tremendous good to the Federation and to the Alpha Quadrant as a whole. “Of course. The vessel that Lieutenant Kayden Rychel was flying in through Cardassian territory had been struck by Cardassian pursuers. There was an anomalous reading that they had noted that bore some similarities to the Gamma Quadrant wormhole. In desperation, they pointed their ship in its direction, and fortunately for their sake, it was a second wormhole.”
“But this wasn’t an immediate process, was it not?” Admiral Turner contributed. So far, Desan was batting a thousand.
“No sir.”
“Can you explain that a bit.”
“Certainly. That wormhole has two termini; one in the Alpha quadrant, one in the Gamma. Though the Alpha quadrant terminus is in normal space, there is significant chroniton imbalance in the sector of space the Gamma quadrant terminus is located in, resulting in substantial temporal distortions. While the away team only perceived their trip as taking a few moments, it was in reality weeks.”
“How did you spend this time, Deputy Director?” Admiral Sha’Vok said. She was name 7 on his list; a half-Vulcan, half-Betazoid former counselor. He’d been on the fence over whether she was a member of the Council at all; and surely if any event would have prompted her to show her true colors on the matter, this was the one.
“Working.”
Desan swore he heard her eyebrow quirk up. “Working?”
Desan noticed his pulse was accelerating, and he slowed his breathing to compensate. He needed to keep his cool if this was the direction they were going. “First, I called…” he hesitated for a brief moment, uncertain how to best describe them. “Our parents and notified them of Lieutenant Kayden’s death. In accordance with Rychel’s wishes, she had a Starfleet funeral. The entire family was in attendance. Then I returned to my duties on the Starbase.”
“You did not feel that you should take additional leave?” Sha’Vok said.
“When my siblings started following the path I’d started down, I had to confront the fact that one day, one of them might die. Was I upset with her loss? Incredibly. But… Rychel was-- and still is-- one of the most faultlessly selfless people I’ve ever known. She would have wanted me to get back to my work, because she saw my work as something that helped people throughout the Quadrant.”
Sha’Vok must have been satisfied by that response, as she paused for a moment, and then said, “Let’s discuss when you became aware that Lieutenant Kayden was still alive.”
“Not her specifically. But… there are certain sorts of communications that I strictly monitor in all areas of the Gamma Quadrant. The message was over a standard channel used by my personnel and using a codespeak that is specific to those within my inner circle. Despite the incredibly anomalous nature of the location, I had to investigate.”
“Would you have done so were this not involved with your sister’s disappearance?” Turner asked.
“I would for any member of my inner circle. As I should. They are all critical assets, including Lieutenant Kayden.” The last point was a gamble. It could make him look like he considered his sister on the same playing field as the rest of his staff. It was true… but that didn’t necessarily mean that he wanted the Admiralty knowing that. It was enough that he knew it was his weakness. It was another entirely when the higher ups did.
“Fair. So continue from the point at which your vessel dropped out of warp in the Ædolyn sector,” Dorsett said.
Desan nodded, collecting his thoughts. Sure, he’d recited this same spiel 17 times now, but it couldn’t look rehearsed. “The USS Phaeton is a heavily modified Sabre-class vessel, with a highly developed cloaking device in addition to a full suite of other espionage technologies. We were aware of the chroniton situation in that sector because of the experiences of two USS Talon crew members. Still, we were unprepared by just how much it would impact our entry to the area. When we emerged from warp, our sensors weren’t showing anything in that location. However, an armored carrier belonging to the Ædolyn fleet was right in our entry location. Though our pilot took evasive action, we struck the vessel, which lacked energy shielding. The Phaeton sliced through the carrier, destroying it nearly instantly.”
“And the status of the Phaeton?” Another voice, and this one broke his streak.
“Still bitter about that, are we Etaera?” Desan joked, a rare full smile on his face.
“She was fresh from drydock when I gave her to you!” Etaera said.
“The Phaeton took moderate damage in the original crash, but was largely functional. Shields were holding at 80%, we had warp 5, and weapons were at 85% capacity. We then took additional damage a half hour later, when the Ædolyn fleet arrived. We attempted to open communications, and to alert them that the destruction of their vessel was unintentional, and that we would make any reparations necessary to resolve the loss of their vessel.”
“And what was the status of Lieutenant Kayden’s vessel?” Turner asked.
It was in bad shape, but we ascertained that it was intact and that it’s occupants were largely healthy before we were attacked. The Ædolyn considered their vessel of no consequence as it had not been involved in the collision.”
“You said the crew on the other vessel was largely healthy?” Sha’Vok said.
She was really good at asking the questions Desan least liked fielding. “While in the Internment Camp, Rychel had a device implanted that would stop her heart. It was not a device that my doctor could remove in the field, as it was deeply embedded in her spinal column and close to a lot of arteries.”
“Back to the Ædolyn?” Dorsett prodded.
Desan was happy to oblige. “The extremely simplified version-- as initial communications were extremely tedious-- was that the Ædolyn were aware it wasn’t on purpose, but due to the value of the cargo on the vessel, their people would demand a trial.”
“And what was that cargo?” Dorsett asked.
“Ædolyn gametes,” Desan said. “There was a crippling genetic disorder that was causing their species to die out. It was the result of previous genetic modifications by another race that had enslaved them. There were occasional instances of gametes that did not possess this disorder, but it was very rare. As such, they were harvested from Ædolyn of reproductive age. Though many of the gametes in the shipment were unviable due to the disorder, there were more viable eggs than any previous harvest in Ædolyn history. They believed that the cargo vessel could ensure the survival of their species, and that we had all but guaranteed their extinction. They planned to stage whatever semblance of a war they could muster against any Federation forces they could encounter.”
“That is a rather emotional reaction,” Sha’Vok said.
Desan shrugged, “It is a bit excessive, yes. But, it was a desperate situation, and they were no more irrational than most species would be under similar circumstances. Regardless, they wished to imprison five of us until a trial could be held. Though their genetic research was somewhat lacking, their medical facilities were good, and we requested the ability to remove Rychel’s implant.
“During this procedure she nearly died?”
“That is correct,” Desan said. “Rychel’s heart was previously pierced by a part of bone in an accident. Though the doctor who tended to her was one of the best in Starfleet, he certainly could not have predicted that she would have such a device implanted. The removal came very close to tearing her heart in two. But again, she had great doctors.”
“And what were you doing while this was occurring?”
“We’d decided it was best not to tell the Ædolyn that Rychel and I were related in case they wanted to use leverage. To be clear… the Ædolyn aren’t bad people, the situation was just desperate for them. I feel that in presenting the events in such a setting some of that is lost. Regardless… I was being interrogated and tested.” Reflexively Desan clenched his fist ever-so-slightly, then immediately relaxed it. Stay cool.
He closed his eyes as he spoke, and in his mind’s eye, he was there.
“Did they test you?” Desan asked, looking over at his companions. While their doctors worked on Rychel, he and Dakbar were residing in a holding cell. All things considered, it was a nice one, but captivity rankled Desan.
Dakbar nodded, his eyes narrowing a bit at the memory.
“Do you think…” Desan trailed off. He only had the inklings of an idea forming in his mind and he wasn’t yet confident enough to voice it aloud.
“They have another use for us?” Dakbar said.
“It’s intriguing,” Desan said. “Maybe we can get out of this one after all.” He lapsed into silence, considering the potential. It only took a moment before the Ædolyn leader returned, and revealed the reason for the testing.
Outwardly, the Ædolyn appeared mostly human, though with ears that swept up from the sides of their heads, and nearly touched atop. Their array of skin colors was more varied as well, with this individual-- whose name Desan wouldn’t be able to pronounce if he devoted the remainder of his life to it-- was a lavender hue. “We are considering a deal.”
Desan had a sinking feeling, and judging by the expression on Dakbar’s face, he wasn’t the only one skeptical.
“The red one,” the Ædolyn said. Desan prayed that no one called Rychel that to her face. “Her DNA… it was not right. Yours was.”
“Right?” Desan asked, perplexed.
“To fix that which troubles our people.”
To Be Continued…