STC: Risan Holiday: Chapter 4

4

Risa
November 13, 2268

The beaches at Langaniti Point were vastly bigger than those of Suraya Bay. From the top edge to where the waves rolled in over the white sand it was at least two hundred meters; and the shoreline went on for something like fifty kilometres in either direction from the Langaniti Recreation Centre where tourists gathered.
    Whereas Suraya Bay was peaceful, almost isolated, Langaniti Point was filled with activity. Thousands of people were scattered over its sands, Risans and visitors alike. Some of the beachgoers were sunbathers, some were swimming in the surf, and some were playing games. Under huge umbrellas people were enjoying picnics and there were even pavilion-style tents that allowed people to have sex in private. The smell of food and the sounds of music and joyful people filled the air.
    Cera absolutely loved it. Langaniti Point reminded her of the huge, popular beaches of Earth. She and Nessa had learned about the place from one of the other guests at Suraya Bay and knew they had to try it. T’Prin decided to stay behind; she preferred the quiet of the resort. She had also heard about some subterranean gardens that were filled with luminescent plants and wanted to see them. Garadun elected to stay behind for the same reason as T’Prin: he preferred peace and quiet. Jan had actually joined everyone at breakfast but said he had plans involving two new girls he’d met.
    Cera and Nessa rented one of the airy pavilion tents and an electric sand buggy, and staked out a spot a few kilometres from the Langaniti Recreation Centre complex. They erected their tent under some palm trees near the top of the beach, rolling up three of the walls to let in the fresh ocean breeze. If they wanted privacy it was easy enough to unroll them. They had a cooler filled with refreshments, a box of snacks and a portable music player, along with towels and a change of clothes.
    “Now this is what I call shore leave,” said Nessa happily.
    “Best I’ve ever had,” Cera agreed and gave her a warm smile. “Thanks to you.”
    Nessa stepped over and they kissed passionately. “I feel the same, Cera. You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever known.”
    “Same here,” said Cera with a happy sigh and they kissed again. Nessa eventually let her go and put on her sunglasses.
    “Those are some pretty impressive waves,” Nessa observed.
    Cera took two bottles from the cooler, passing one to her lover. “Reminds me of South Africa. That’s on Earth. They can make swimming a bit challenging.”
    “Hey, I’m not going out in those,” Nessa told her emphatically.
    Cera laughed. “I was never expecting you to. Those are for experienced swimmers. Stay near the shore and you’ll be fine.”
    Nessa took a long pull on her drink and gave a sigh of contentment. She’d never felt so happy in all her young life. She had a great job with respect and responsibility; was part of a small independent crew of good, loyal people; and now she was romantically involved with the most amazing woman she’d ever known.
    “How hard is it to learn to dive?” she asked Cera curiously.
    “Not very hard,” Cera explained. “It requires a lot of attention, though, and study. Diving is inherently dangerous. You’re going underwater after all. But if you take all the proper courses and pass, and learn all the required skills, then it’s the most wonderful thing you’ll ever do. Why? Are you interested?”
    “I’d never even heard of the sport until I met you,” Nessa replied, gazing out at the ocean thoughtfully. “Listening to you talk about diving and marine biology and, uh, what’s his name, that Human man you admire?”
    “Jacques Cousteau?”
    “Yes, him. It got me curious. I started going through the ship’s database. You know, looking at those, what do you call them? Documentaries?”
    Cera nodded.
    “I had no idea oceans could be so beautiful.” Nessa looked at her feet. “I never had a proper education. Just an apprenticeship learning to be a bodyguard.”
    “If you want to learn, Nessa,” said Cera, taking her lover’s hand, “then I’ll help you. It’s never too late to learn new things, to improve yourself.”
    Nessa gave her a grateful kiss. “I’d like that.”
    “Anytime, sweetheart.”
    Nessa kissed her again and then took a sip of her drink. As she was lowering the bottle, something out on the water caught her attention. She pointed.
    “Would you look at that! What is that man doing?”
    Cera looked out over the surf and saw, to her complete astonishment, some guy riding the big rolling waves of Langaniti Point on a surfboard. An actual surfboard. She hadn’t seen one since the last time she’d been to Earth. Here she was way out on Risa and some guy was actually surfing the waves. She put on her sunglasses and shaded her eyes, studying him. From this distance he looked Human with a tanned, well-defined body, black hair, and she could make out some tattoos. And there was his body language, the way he moved and controlled his board.
    No, it couldn’t be. Could it? Could he actually be here? Then again, who else would be riding a surfboard almost ninety light-years from the planet where the sport, the way of life, had been invented?
    “I’ll be damned,” said Cera and laughed. “It is him! I can’t believe it!”
    “You know that man?” said Nessa in amazement.
    “Do I ever. Come on.” Cera laughed and hurried off down the beach. Nessa ran after her, her curiosity up. That Cera had encountered a person she knew on Risa actually wasn’t too unbelievable. The planet was a major tourist spot with people coming from all over the galaxy. As she got close to the waterline she ran along the beach in the same direction as the surfer, waving her arms and shouting as loudly as she could.
    “KONA! Kona! Over here! Look over here, you dumb Hawaiian! KONA!”
    The surfer evidently saw her because he waved back and turned his board toward the shore, weaving back and forth across the waves with a high level of skill. He jumped off a few meters from shore with a splash, picking his board up out of the water and unhooking the cord attaching it to his ankle. As he walked up the beach, Cera ran to him, her arms wide open. He laughed and jammed his board in the sand just before she jumped into his arms and hugged him.
    “Kona! God, I can’t believe it’s you!” said Cera joyfully.
    “Right back at you, Cera,” said Kona, laughing and hugging her tight. He pulled back, his hands on her arms, and looked her up and down. “Look at you! What the hell are you doing on Risa, girl?”
    Cera grinned. “I could ask you the same thing, dummy.”
    “Shore leave,” Kona explained. “The Cassini entered orbit a few days ago. The crew’s been coming down in shifts and I finally got my two days. What about you?”
    “I’m also on leave,” she replied, beaming. “But before I get into that, where are my manners? David Kalakona, I’d like you to meet Nessa. Nessa, this is David Kalakona, an old friend of mine.”
    “Nice to meet you, David,” said Nessa, offering her hand.
    “Aloha, Nessa,” he said, shaking. “Everyone just calls me Kona.”
    “All right, Kona it is. So where do you know each other from?”
    “We were at the Academy together,” Cera supplied, giving Kona a happy slap on the shoulder. “While I was studying to be an engineer, Kona here was becoming a navigator. We shared a lot of classes, including marine biology.”
    Nessa felt an instinctive flare of jealousy and tried to ignore it.
    “So what are you up to these days?” Kona asked Cera curiously. “Last I heard, after you punched out that Stol jerk, you joined up with a cargo ship?”
    “The Jack-A-Dandy,” said Cera, nodding. “But it got sold to a big shipping company several months ago, so I resigned.”
    “And now? You said you were on leave.”
    Cera’s smile was as bright as both suns. “I’m captain of my own ship, Kona! Can you believe it? Me! My own ship! The Calypso. She’s a real beauty.”
    “I’ll be damned,” he said, shaking his head. “Well good for you, girl! Nice to see that your dream came true.”
    “Did it ever. Nessa here happens to be my chief of security,” she said proudly.
    Nessa smirked. “More like bodyguard.”
    “And she’s my girlfriend,” Cera added, taking Nessa’s hand. Kona looked at them standing there side-by-side and smiled in approval.
    “Congratulations, both of you. You make a great couple.”
    “Thanks, Kona.” Cera kissed him on the cheek, then looked at him thoughtfully. “So you’re on the Cassini? I thought you were on the Alliance.”
    Kona chuckled. “Yeah, I got assigned to the Alliance after our training cruise aboard the Pegasus, but I lasted less than a year before Captain Foster had me transferred. Said I didn’t have the ‘proper discipline’ for a Dreadnaught class starship.”
    Cera rolled her eyes. “I know that feeling.”
    “So I got sent to the Tamerlane and did a year there before the first officer got fed up with me. Said they needed a navigator, not a ‘surfer boy’ who preferred waxing his board than showing up on time for his duty shift. Which was a total lie.”
    Cera held back a laugh. “Of course.”
    “So Starfleet transferred me again, this time to Cassini.”
    “How’s that working out?” Nessa asked, amused.
    “We finally got to someplace nice where I can surf,” Kona replied, gesturing to the ocean. “Although Captain Weller almost didn’t give me my leave. But I filed a complaint with the XO, said I’d earned time off like everyone else.”
    “Bet that went down well,” said Cera dryly.
    “Weller was a bit irked, yeah,” Kona admitted. “But still.”
    “So that’s what? Three ships in the three years since you graduated? Come on, Kona, you have to see it, even you. Starfleet’s fed up. You know what they’re like when it comes to people like you and me. Your next transfer might be to some outpost on the Klingon border or some other godforsaken hole. No big waves to surf out there.”
    Kona frowned. When she put it like that…
    “Look, you do have another option, you know,” she told him bracingly.
    “What’s that?”
    “Leave Starfleet. Resign before they burn you.”
    “Resign my commission?” he said, surprised. “Look, I joined Starfleet to see strange new worlds and then surf them. If I quit, where does that leave me?”
    “It leaves you with me, dummy,” Cera told him, chuckling. “The Calypso’s a fine ship, Kona, the fastest freighter around. I have a great little crew and we could certainly use a skilled navigator like yourself.”
    “Gar would definitely be glad of some help at the helm,” Nessa agreed.
    “Exactly. Think of it, Kona: no rules, no regulations and no-one telling you what to do all the time. You’ll still see the stars and I promise you that if any planet we visit has any decent waves, I’ll give you at least a day to surf them.”
    Kona scratched his chin. “You’re serious.”
    “Of course I am. Look, you don’t belong in Starfleet. You’re too free a spirit.”
    “My own quarters?” Kona asked with an intrigued smile. “No sharing with some haole complaining all the time that my board takes up too much room?”
    “Your own quarters, all to yourself,” Cera promised. “No haole.”
    “They’re actually pretty spacious,” Nessa told him.
    “What about position? I get a title?”
    “You’ll be our navigator. We have a helmsman, my best friend Garadun. He’s also my first mate. I’m Calypso’s captain and her chief engineer. My cousin T’Prin is our comm officer and our transporter chief is an Orion name Jan Koor. He fills in as an engineer when needed. And of course there’s Nessa.”
    “Pretty small crew,” Kona observed.
    “So small that we have no formal duty shifts. No regulations, Kona. Everyone simply does their job and pitches in as best they can.”
    “Now that sounds fair,” said Kona approvingly. “All right, I’m in.”
    Cera lit up. “Really? You mean it?”
    “Yes. Time I said aloha to Starfleet.” He winked. “They won’t miss me anyway.”
    “Their loss is our gain.” Cera gave him a big hug. “Welcome aboard, Kona.”
    Nessa hugged him too. “Yes, welcome to the Calypso.”
    “Thanks.” Kona laughed and slapped his hands together. “Oh man, I can’t wait to see Weller’s face when I tell him I’m resigning.”
    “But you’ll stay with us for the rest of the day, won’t you?” said Cera. “See over there? We rented a tent. We have drinks and food and everything.”
    “Of course I will, sounds perfect,” Kona grinned. “I’m on leave, you know.”
    Cera and Nessa laughed.

                                                                          *****

Garadun put his communicator on the table and leaned back in his seat. So they had a new crewman, did they? And a navigator at that. Cool. One more person to take a spell at the helm was always good. Calypso was more than capable of flying herself once a course was laid in, but that was no substitute for a real person on the bridge. You never knew what might happen at any given time.
    That this Kalakona dude was a friend of Cera’s from her days at Starfleet Academy was an added bonus. That meant he could be trusted. If Cera said he was okay, then that was good enough for Garadun. When you had a crew as small as Calypso’s, trust was vital. You had to know everyone had your back, could be relied upon.
    He looked up when movement caught his eye and saw Jan Koor headed across the restaurant toward his table. The big Orion smiled and waved, and dropped heavily into the chair opposite Garadun.
    “Hey there, brother,” said Jan merrily. “How goes it?”
    “Cera just called me,” Garadun replied. “We got ourselves a new crewman.”
    Jan straightened up, now more serious. “Is that so?”
    “He’s a friend of hers from Starfleet Academy. His name’s David Kalakona and he’s a navigator. From what she says he’s a total misfit like the rest of us.”
    Jan grinned. “That sounds fine. Navigator, eh?”
    “According to Cera. Says he’s very good. Has to be better than me anyways.”
    “No worries, brother. You get us from one place to the other well enough.”
    Garadun shrugged. “Flying I like. Navigation was never my strength. Too much math involved. I’ll be glad of the help.”
    “Can’t argue with that.”
    “So what’s up with you? I thought you were with a pair of dolls.”
    “Got tired of ‘em,” Jan explained with a grimace. “Let me tell you, brother: they’re great in bed, know how to have a proper three-way. But afterwards? Even I have my limits when it comes to brainless dolls. These two? Vacuum between the ears.”
    Garadun laughed.
    “So what’s going on, brother?” Jan inquired, tapping his hands on the table. “Haven’t seen you with a doll since we got here. T’Prin I get: she’s Vulcan. But Cera and Nessa have finally boarded each other. How about you?”
    Garadun shifted in his seat. “The dolls ain’t interested. You saw that when I was on the Chaser. Nothing’s changed.”
    “Do you mean to tell me,” said Jan in horrified realisation, “that in the last four years you haven’t… not once? Not a single doll has–”
    Garadun shook his head. “More than twenty-five years, actually. I’ve lost track.”
    “Brother, that’s just wrong,” said Jan, running a hand over his scalp. “Look, we can fix this easy. We’re on Risa. Grab a horga’hn, sit out in a public space and–”
    “And what?” Garadun sighed. “Nothing’ll happen apart from me getting humiliated. I’d sit there for hours alone. Besides, boarding a complete stranger just ain’t me. Even if for argument’s sake a doll were interested.”
    “But this is Risa,” Jan argued. “The dolls here–”
    “Are the same as anywhere, brother. Risan, Human, Betazoid, Andorian: it just don’t seem to matter when it comes to me.” Garadun waved his hand. “But look, the girls are having dinner with Kalakona tonight and I’m starved. Food?”
    “I could eat,” Jan agreed, deciding to drop the subject. While he certainly wasn’t the most subtle man in the galaxy, he understood that part of the unspoken male bond which said when a brother didn’t want to talk about something, you didn’t talk about it. But as a friend he was deeply troubled. More than quarter century without sex?
    Even Vulcans did better than that.
    Garadun was one of his best friends and different from most Humans he’d met in that he was, well, not a Feddie. He didn’t have that Human air of superiority, that swank of moral self-righteousness. He had his own code, sure. But he didn’t piss it into everyone’s faces like the Feddies did. He understood loyalty and what it meant to have your friend’s back. Species didn’t seem to matter to him one bit. He judged people on individual merit, not on their biology and nationality.
    As far as Jan was concerned, a man like that deserved a doll.

                                                                          *****

The U.S.S. Cassini was one of Starfleet’s numerous Ptolemy class starships, the workhorses of the fleet who got little glory. Classified as transports-tugs their primary job was to haul goods and people from one end of the Federation to the other. Beneath the saucer section was a tow pad to which large, tubular cargo containers could be attached. The containers came in different types depending on what was being transported: dry bulk, refrigerated, liquid, general cargo; even a starliner variant that could accommodate up to five hundred people in cramped quarters. Because they didn’t get the exciting assignments, serving aboard Ptolemy class ships was usually seen as undesirable by most Starfleet personnel. They were places to train cadets; or to dump problem officers; or those who were simply average; or for those in Starfleet whose careers were winding down; or whose careers had never really gotten off the ground to begin with.
    Captain Trent Weller was an adequate Starfleet officer. Not a great leader, nor a brilliant tactician, nor a natural explorer; but he got the job done. He graduated from Starfleet Academy an ensign and slowly worked his way up through the ranks until now, at age fifty-four, he’d finally been made captain and given a ship of his own to command. He was very by-the-book and had little tolerance for those who weren’t.
    Such as Ensign David Kalakona.
    “You’re out of uniform, mister,” said Captain Weller as he glared at the young officer who was standing before him in his office. The Hawaiian was wearing baggy capri pants, loafers and an oversized short-sleeved shirt in a tie-dye pattern.
    “Well yeah, obviously,” Kona acknowledged in what Captain Weller considered to be a very insolent manner. As an afterthought he added, “Sir.”
    Captain Weller rose from his seat, his temper fizzling away. “You should be at your post, Ensign. Your shore leave ended two hours ago.”
    “If I was still working for you, then yeah,” Kona countered with a smirk. He jabbed a data slate at Captain Weller. “But I’m not, sir. This is my resignation from Starfleet. I’ve already given it to Lieutenant Colman and then to Commander Yates. Now I’m giving it to you as per those regulations you’re oh-so fond of.”
    Captain Weller stared at the slate in his hands, then at Kalakona, speechless.
    “It means I quit,” Kona added in case it hadn’t sunk in. “Got a better offer from a much better ship commanded by an astronomically better captain.”
    “What ship? Which captain?” Weller demanded.
    “You know, I don’t have to actually answer that,” Kona replied happily. “I’m not in Starfleet anymore. Aloha, Captain Weller.”
    And with that David Kalakona simply turned around and walked out of the CO’s office without another word. He had some Risan waves to carve.