A pure fractal made in Apophysis 2.09, mirrored and overlaid upon itself -- for the color scheme, see my note at the end!
The way a thing like the loss of the Farragut and the deep damage to the Amanirenas works is that it's not exactly shore leave … debriefing, inquests, and courts-martial are not exactly vacation activities. It also takes a long, long time to do all this with 870 crew members to consider, and with the details being so sensitive, our personal orbit became San Francisco, fleet headquarters, until all of that was done.
Fortunately for Admiral Benjamin Banneker-Jackson, his home was San Francisco anyhow, and fortunately for me as captain of the Amanirenas, he was also my uncle, who had raised me after my parents' death in a tragic accident … so, the home of my refuge still was just that, made brighter and more hilarious by my uncle's new bride, Captain Almira Banneker-Jackson.
All this was a joy to me and also to my husband, Capt. Rufus Dixon, who had to return to the Ventanan frontier for work not long after he had met me at disembarking – there was trouble on the commercial shipping front.
“When I said it was a fleet turkey shoot, I was speaking humorously, Khadijah, but today it became fulfilled prophecy,” he said as he looked up from his email. “Why do fools try Admiral Chenggis Chulalaangkorn? I just don't get it!”
It was not the fleet's will, and therefore not Adm. Chulalaangkorn's will, that Fivespout Violet Cup flowers become the cause of death for millions of human and humanoid thrill-seekers across consortium space, and therefore, there was going to be no successful poaching or smuggling from their home system by anybody the fleet gave permits to for business in the Ventanan system. Folks did not take the fleet admiral with the charge seriously until …
“Until they arrived wherever their souls were prepared to be, having added to the volume of entropy and space dust in the Milky Way that really does not need that kind of addition,” Uncle Benjamin said.
“They would have had a better chance surviving the attack of a Spike Gryphoniat than messing with Chenggis Chulalaangkorn,” Aunt Almira said.
Rufus paused a moment in that thought, and then shook his head.
“From a business perspective, that's exactly right – you know these companies got their permits snatched in addition to losing ships and crews, and by the time they can appeal to the consortium, it will be too late because Kirk and Dixon Shipping and a few others are going to take all their legitimate business – and then they are still going to lose their appeal, because by the time Adm. Chulalaangkorn puts your name on a photon torpedo, he has all the evidence necessary to back that up.
“Plenty of time to say ouch before you die – it fits the description,” Uncle Benjamin said, and I just shook my head. None of them knew yet that I had seen exactly what they were talking about.
When I was a lieutenant on the science track, the Spike Gryphoniat was well-known on its homeworld as a ferocious being – by Earth comparison, throw a house spider together with a polar bear in size, strength, and fondness for human prey. Then give it the ability to extract fluid through most of its surface area, and then give it the hunting habits of crocodiles. They are fresh-water amphibious hunters, but prefer land-based prey, and not drowned, so, they simply catch from the water, pin their victims to the shore with all those spines and drain on site.
To a Spike Gryphoniat, a human is a superfood, rich in iron and sodium, so they will work overtime to catch human prey. They are formidable creatures to dissuade even by 23rd-century weapon standards: their color comes from their exoskeletons being made from what is essentially anodized titanium, naturally occurring as part of the creature's formidable gestation process.
The first team of scientists sent to study these formidable creatures in their natural habitat took all the necessary precautions. So did the second. The third got a little careless. I was on the starship that came to the rescue, but there was not much of a rescue to make. That third team had not followed the sterile suit instructions to the letter, nor did they have sufficient heavy weapons available. The team of scientists was 35, and our starship was coming in at Warp 9, just 20 minutes away. We rescued two people, and one of them from underneath one of the Spike Gryphoniats who must have been quite confused when its half-eaten meal disappeared. It had been, to borrow my husband's terminology, a turkey shoot for the Spike Gryphoniats.
I was the person who re-calibrated the transporter beam on the fly to get the human and leave the titanium. I was not in Sickbay, but I saw the person later, with the scars that even 23rd-century physical and mental medicine can never erase. But, at least the two survivors survived. 33 people died in 20 minutes, and 20 minutes is plenty of time to say ouch, among another things, before you die.
Three entire commercial shipping companies, playing around with the precautions from Adm. Chenggis Chulalaangkorn, found that they had plenty of time to say ouch, among other things, before they collapsed just as my husband said they would. Adm. Chulalaangkorn was just as grim and silent as any Spike Gryphoniat would be in the process, giving no interviews or explanations beyond what he had made clear well in advance.
I had a nightmare that night, and upon waking up in my husband's arms and concern, I told him what I remembered. His response was striking.
“Khadijah, you've been on clean-up duty too long!” he said. “I understand why the fleet recalled you, but look at your record – called back because of an accident, having to weld the Farragut back together in deep space, after ten years holding down Aqiiuiibi!”
“Well, the Farragut bit wasn't the mission we were supposed to be on,” I said. “We're supposed to be getting ahead of problems – the Amanirenas now is part of my uncle's working group with Commodore Allemande, and one of the things Admiral Talvela is going to be doing is adding to the number of ships in the working group to spread the work out. We're not going to be doing clean-up – we're getting ahead of the problems.”
“They had better get this right, Khadijah,” he said. “You are worth far more than just to be the fleet's clean-up woman – you are not the help, my wife, and I need you to insist that you not be treated like that.”
“Being a fleet captain on the science track and being responsible lends itself to a certain amount of clean-up duty,” I said, “but I take your point, Rufus. I take your point.”
“Don't get me wrong – I don't think Uncle Benjamin or Cdre. Allemande treat you like that at all,” he said, “but they also can go to bat for you in specific ways to enhance your career and get you future assignments that make sense.”
“I will start having those conversations,” I said. “I take your point … the fleet will 'backslide' if I let it.”
“It certainly will – I bet they already are having conversations about having you do modeling for ship repair and would be running the Amanirenas out with tow and salvage if you let it. I'm not down with the slow-motion Spike Gryphoniat moves the fleet has been trying to make on your brilliant career. I'm not with that. This is you being beamed out of all that, Khadijah, right now.”
“Thank you … you are one of those cute transporter guys, too.”
“Look, I'm trying to be serious, and you're making me laugh – stop it – yes, I know I am cute, but still, stop it!”
Author's Note: For those interested in the color scheme: this article includes all the colors of anodized titanium that I used in the palette for this fractal: