Grief...and Hope

Posted on Sat Jan 9th, 2021 @ 2:14am by Lieutenant Kalin Brennan-Griffin PhD & Cailus Griffin
Edited on on Thu Jan 28th, 2021 @ 7:36am

Mission: Shore Leave
Location: Cailus/Shae's Quarters
Timeline: Shortly after "Aoife"

In the shower, Cailus simply stood there. The hot water fell thick, steam filling the space. By now, Cailus was completely clean, the dirt and grime from the planet having long since washed off. It was time for Cailus to get out, get dressed, but somehow, even that small decision seemed impossible. He was simply locked there, unable to move. Even the dim thought of Shae, desperately in need of cleaning herself, was insufficient to prompt Cailus to move.

Aoife was dead. Victoire was dead. The thought just kept resonating in his mind, a poison that Cailus couldn’t break free from. He closed his eyes, bowing his head underneath the shower, his body completely limp.

Shae hadn’t even bothered to remove her uniform in preparation for her own shower; as soon as they had come home to their cold, empty quarters, Shae had found Aoife’s pink bunny then lay on the bed to snuggle with it. She breathed in the lingering scent of her daughter, fervently praying that she was not really gone, that somehow this was a dream she could wake from at any moment. But she did not wake, and for each minute that passed, Shae grew more and more numb, so numb that her ears didn’t even twitch or flick when an alert sounded off from their shared deskspace.

It was, conversely, Callus who saw the alert first. It was the tiniest thing, a bit of reflected light on the mirror, flashing yellow. He tried to ignore it, at first, not caring what that light might mean, but his mind wouldn’t shut down. Despite his malaise he took the time to work it out. It wasn’t a yellow alert, as that would be accompanied by a klaxon. It wasn’t a light from within the bathroom itself. It had to be a reflection from outside.

Slowly, through the process of analysing such a simple mystery, Callus found the strength to move, wrapping a towel around his waist and tying it off, forgetting to dry himself. He was still half-awake, still half-alive, knew it, hated it, but couldn’t do anything about it. Nevertheless, when he returned to the bedroom and saw Shae cradling Aoife’s bunny on their bed, his breath caught.

“Shae,” Cailus said, his voice raw. He coughed to clear his throat, moving to the bed and sitting on it. “I’ve finished my shower.” At the lack of response, he reached out and touched her shoulder. “Shae.”

A small whine escaped her, but Shae didn’t move or make any attempts to acknowledge him otherwise.

“Right,” Callus sighed, at a loss. He stroked Shae’s cream hair for a couple of minutes, simply content to just stay there, but that only worked so long. The flashing light lingered in his mind. Maybe it was a message, signalling that the whole thing was some elaborate holodeck torture. Maybe it was a sign he was hallucinating in some Romulan prison. It was something, a change. New information.

Thus, Callus got up again, lethargically moving to their desk, sitting in the chair. Though it technically belonged to both of them, Shae used it far more often when off-duty, and the space felt uniquely hers. The PADD set to one aside. The careful organisation on the desk computer interface. A brush from a couple of days past, when Shae had Aoife on her lap, brushing the little one’s tail…

Swallowing. Callus ignored it all and simply accessed the system notification. The post-mortem report was there, waiting, and Cailus recognised the format. He skimmed it automatically, absorbing the information without conscious effort, enough that it took a few moments for it to sink in. He repeated it out loud, frowning, trying to work through the dense medical jargon.

“Cause of death: two severe simultaneous fusiform aneurysms. The underlying cause stems from defects in the Gaussian method of cloning, resulting in deformations in the circulatory and nervous system due to incomplete duplication of the original genetic template…” Callus kept on reading, trying and failing to parse the rest of the report which grew even more technical, but nevertheless he got the gist.

Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, precisely, but something felt wrong with all of it. Callus took a breath, rubbing his eyes, only then realising that he was still sopping wet, but to hell with it. He could feel it. There was something...off. Something besides Aoife being gone. Something else.

A couple of minutes later, Callus was back in the bedroom, sitting on the bed. This time, though, he was much more awake, reaching down to gently touch Shae’s hair again, stroking it like before.

“Shae, I need to know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, love, but something’s wrong about all this. What is Gaussian cloning? The EMH is sure that’s why…” His voice trailed off there, unable to finish the sentence.

“I said, she wasn’t MADE THAT WAY!” Shae yelled, finally snapping out of her stupor and sitting upright. Then she realized where she was and her ears drooped in shame that she yelled like that, especially to her mate. “Wait, what did you say?”

“Gaussian cloning.” Callus didn’t react in the slightest to Shae’s shouting, instead looking her in the eye steadily. “You told me that she’s a clone of you. The EMH thinks that problems with Gaussian cloning were what went...wrong.”

“Then he was programmed by an ignorant twat because that’s not how she was made,” Shae insisted. “Every culture has their own version of either instantaneous cloning or rapid age cloning, but they all start with classic cloning, injecting the desired genetic material into an empty ovum and then gestating in a surrogate. That’s how Aoife was made, using my ovum and body to get the job done. Gaussian cloning is an obscure style of flash-cloning, copying someone in just a few weeks with accelerated cell growth in an artificial womb, but it’s not perfected, it causes problems...”

Cailus shook his head. “But you gave birth to her. This doesn’t make sense. Why would the EMH detect signs of flash-cloning if she wasn’t…” He stopped there, his eyes widening. “Shae.”

Shae narrowed her eyes at Cailus as she started to pick up what he was getting at. “No… No, it’s… not possible. She was under constant medical attention, surely we should have noticed something before…” Except that the side effects and markers for the different cloning methods were so varied and often required a level three scan to detect, but Aoife never required such an intense scan before. Shae’s heart began to race as tears burned her eyes. “What are we saying here?”

The moment hung between them, Callus seeing the thought bloom in Shae’s eyes. Finally his own malaise was starting to melt away, replaced by a profound fury deep within. His eyes hardened as he looked at Shae, reaching out to take her hand in his.

“You’re the scientist,” he said quietly. By now strength had started to return to Cailus’s body, his muscles visibly tensing. “Is it really possible?”

“You can’t ask me that, it’s not fair to make me hope!” Shae said, but her eyes told a different story; like Cailus, there was a growing fury, one that she wasn’t ready to face, but this fury would not be denied the truth. “It’s… I-” Shae said, struggling between fury and grief. “If we’re wrong, it’ll be the end of us; we would have to go dark and we both know how Starfleet treats those they deem to be traitors.”

“If we’re right, I won’t give a damn.” Cailus said, his tone full of resolve. They hadn’t even discussed a plan yet, but they didn’t need to. Nevertheless, he forced himself to slow down. “I’ll have the EMH and the Doctor double check and triple check. They’ll do independent analyses. We need to be sure, but if we’re right about this…” Automatically his eyes flicked to the side, to the empty cot beside their bed.

“Stars above, she’s still out there somewhere!” Shae said as the truth of the situation hit her like a wave that galvanized her will like steel. “I know just who to go to if we’re to find out where she is,” she said, abandoning the bunny on the bed to go to the desk. Finding the security stick from her cloak and dagger days, she plugged it into the desk terminal and composed a simple message: “I’m done playing, where is she?” Upon sending the message, Shae leaned back in her chair. “So tired of these games…”

“I know,” Callus said tensely, having followed her to her desk. By now, despite wearing only a towel and dripping water onto the carpet, Callus looked downright frightening. There was a distinct murderous look in his eyes, all trace of compassion or long since gone. “You aren’t alone this time. I swear, I don’t care if we have to rip the whole damn galaxy apart. If she’s out there, we’re getting her. To hell with anyone who tries to stop us.”

“As cathartic as tearing apart the galaxy may be, it won’t be necessary,” Shae assured him. “I’ll get her location and we can do a surgical strike. I know we’re on bereavement leave for the time being, but use what influence you have to get a shuttle ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”

Callus nodded curtly, already planning. “I’ll get one prepped with all the gear we’ll need. It shouldn’t be hard to do that quietly. Get started here, I’ll get to Sickbay and get them working.” Then, without even pausing for breath, he turned and headed for the door to their quarters, dripping water on the carpet as he went.

“Cailus, love, though I do approve of your choice of dress, I doubt anyone else will,” Shae pointed out with a fanged grin.

“What?” Callus answered in bafflement, stopping and turning around. It took a moment for him to cotton on, glancing down at himself, then smirking, although there was a distinct edge to his smirk. Then, not caring a whit, he untied the towel from his waist and finally began drying himself with it as he moved to the bedroom, although he did glance mischievously at Shae as he passed her.

“Eyes on your work, girl,” he scolded her as he went.

Shae chuckled, “Yes sir.”