From The Wreckage

Posted on Wed Sep 18th, 2024 @ 9:33pm by Captain Malcom Llwyedd & Lieutenant Soto Gantt

2,824 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Prelude to Rebirth
Location: A ranch outside Michoacán, Mexico

[ON]
Afternoon light nudged reluctantly through the soiled apartment curtains. It revealed piles of clothing collapsed like carcasses upon tables, chairs, and a single couch. Forgotten plates, glasses, silverware, and remains of old meals lay among the clothing like artifacts of a dead civilization. In the background a single song drones on. It faded to quiet and then began to play again as it had for hours. In the tenebrous landscape, a single light blinked on suddenly.

Gantt opened one eye, squinted into the viridian glow, and squeezed his eyes shut again.

“Computer, delete message,” he said.

--Message deleted.--

He rolled over and felt something wedged in his closed left hand. Most of a protein bar. Gantt nibbled disinterestedly along an edge generally free of lint and then dropped the end of the bar onto the carpet. Another alert glowed on the PADD’s screen. He deleted that one, too, as well as the two that followed. It was so easy to delete them, unread; the number of messages dwindled daily.

Someone banged on the front door. Startled, Gantt tumbled onto the floor, dragging clothing, several dishes, and a sofa cushion with him. The person knocked again, louder.

“Open the door before it needs to be replaced,” said a man. The voice was a thick, tight voice that had been strained by years of alcohol consumption.

Gantt struggled to his feet, nearly tripped, and threw the PADD at the wall out of frustration. He scrubbed sleep from his eyes and shuffled toward the door. The only way to end this was to answer. Calling security meant talking to people. Waiting it out would be futile. And loud.

After a short struggle with the poorly serviced security panel, the door haltingly slid open. “Come in, Uncle.” Gantt shuffled back towards the couch and burrowed into the soft mass.

“Stay on your feet. I need your help,” said Mateo.

Gantt flopped onto the couch and squinted at his uncle from his nest. “Do I look like someone you should ask for help?”

Mateo leaned back heavily on the doorframe. “No, but you’re going to help anyway.”

“That doesn’t work on me anymore.” Gantt closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. He could feel his uncle’s eyes on him. Not a heavy, judgemental gaze nor one of pity. Gantt knew Mateo never treated him like that. His uncle’s eyes held hope and Gantt had no room for that.

Silent minutes dragged on relentlessly. Sleep wouldn’t come. “Please leave, Uncle.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you. The Mira is in bad shape. She’s really beat up even for that old Argo—worse off than you’re thinking—and she needs help. I’ve got a job. A quick drop of supplies due to San Felipe tomorrow morning. Mira can’t make it. She needs your brain and hands to fix her. These...” He held up his gnarled hands. Gantt saw that they trembled more than he remembered. He kicked his feet deeper into the piles, shaking his head and Mateo pleaded. “These aren’t what they used to be, Ganttito. You know every bolt, every system, every circuit. I have to make this delivery. No one else can fix her overnight. Please. Do this and then… I’ll leave you alone if you want. But not before then.”

Gantt opened one eye a slit and saw Mateo sitting in a corner, a pillow behind him. He knew it was over. “How did you find me?” Gantt’s question was met with silence.

“One time. One night. You get that much but no more,” said Gantt.

---

The ground transporter left beside a hill topped with a large, old shed that leaned slightly to one side. Gantt followed his uncle inside, waited for his eyes to adjust, and then tossed his travel bag onto a table in the corner. The garage looked the same as it had for as long as he could remember.

In the middle of the overcrowded room sat an Argo transport, boasting a covered rear container compartment, worn tires, and sides stripped of the usual metal plates. Behind them was a maze of custom-wired boards and circuits that Gantt could have drawn from memory. Mirasol. Sunflower. Mateo had picked the name for an obscure reason he never bothered to explain. Mira was not a pretty transport but she was unique, and the long hours spent to keep her running were the reason Gantt loved to tinker with vehicles. She was part of his family.

A child would have known the transport was in bad shape. To Gantt it looked a hundred years older. A relic pulled from an archaeological dig. A wreck with obvious burn marks around the power cells, wheels that bent in multiple directions, and the acridity of ozone in the air.

“She’s… What did you…” Words faltered completely until Gantt found a strand and picked them back up. “Where have you been driving? You’ve completely ruined her. I’ve seen salvage vehicles in better shape.”

“Like the time you drove her at speed into the ditch because you couldn’t see over the dash.” shot back Mateo. Saying nothing, Gantt gestured towards the tool locker and then grabbed a wheel dolly to slide underneath the belly. He held out a hand until he felt a scanner pressed into his palm. Mateo asked a few questions while Gantt ran diagnostics of the transport. Gantt only answered one of them.

“No.”

“They’ll want to see you,” said Mateo. After a long silence, he scuffed his boot at the dirt. “Okay, I promise I won’t tell the family you’re here.”

Gantt fell into a comfortable rhythm. Each control, joint, switch, and relay was tested, and the result entered into his PADD, and then tested again. Check. Enter. Check again. Everything from the power cells, couplings, batteries, and circuits, to the frame and treads. The dirt was soft and warm; long free of any rocks, which were all piled up along the inside of the walls where they had been thrown out of the way. Minor mechanical problems were assigned to his uncle. Gantt was the expert at this point. Mateo was just glad that his nephew had come. Shocked that he hadn’t had to use force, which he had been prepared to do. He thought of all the hours, too many to count, that he and Gantt had spent here. Lupita, too, whenever she wanted to join them. After Gantt had left, it was just one more ghost for Mateo to deal with. And he already had almost too many ghosts for alcohol alone to handle.

“Eat some food,” said Mateo, rapping a spoon against a plastic tray. “It’s from this morning so your mom won’t be suspicious that I want food for two tonight.”

In response, a formidable fountain of multilingual cursing spewed from beneath the Argo. Mateo stepped back to the shed’s door as if to keep his shoes clean. Gantt’s voice growled out from beneath Mira.

“You did this on purpose. The worst damage was you. Look at the way the suspension is bent with breaks here and there,” said Gantt before sending the scanner across the room. It was impressive from where he lay under Mira. “You can’t do all that by driving hard to San Felipe without hitting some rocks. Maybe even ditches. Large ditches. Ditches you drive into on purpose. And in reverse, too, judging by how the reinforced brackets are bent.” Gantt pulled himself out from under the transport. He hauled himself to his feet, hands gripping the sides even after he stood as though they were the only thing keeping him from flying at his uncle.

“Why?” The question, so aching, hurt Mateo more than if Gantt had hit him directly. Mateo’s whole body surrendered to gravity, looking almost like a twelve year old in trouble.

“You stopped going to appointments, the mandatory training, and answering messages,” said Mateo. “You stopped caring.”

“That was no reason to do all of… this!”

“It was enough. You’re enough reason, Gantt. I won’t let you slide away.”

“You think I’m giving up, Uncle Mateo? Me? I’m the only one who has accepted what my life really is. The rest of you want me to pretend I’m living in a fairy tale that will miraculously turn me into a beautiful hero.” He raised one hand and stabbed a finger towards Mira. “That pile of metal is the part everyone is ignoring. The broken part inside me.”

Mateo looked like he had reached for a piece of chocolate and swallowed a cucaracha instead. “What are you talking about, Gantt? Your grandma saw the report from the doctors urging her to re-engage you in the treatment. Are you just angry over not being the smartest person? You’re still plenty smart, nephew.”

“The report.” Gantt grabbed his hair with both hands. “It’s meaningless. I thought you understood how empty it was, and that was why you didn’t bug me to go back to San Francisco. Back to Starfleet.”

“Treatment isn’t worthless. It is everything!” Mateo took a few steps towards Gantt.

“Treatment is nothing!” Gantt slammed a fist into the side of Mira, but he didn’t even wince. Adrenaline was pumping into his body. “You were always with us. You saw how my mom grew weaker, duller, and listless even though she went to every treatment. Every two weeks Dad drove her to the city. Every two weeks Lupita and I would talk about when life would go back to normal. We were sure treatment would help Mom.

It didn’t. The doctors promised and delivered nothing. I saw her slowly wilt from the wise, happy mother who raised us into a husk who cried almost every time she saw my face.”

Mateo stared at Gantt’s face. Emotions played freely across his nephew’s face in a street brawl of old agonies. A tear slid down Mateo’s face. His knees buckled and he had to stumble to an old storage crate to sit. His breathing sounded like tearing burlap.

“What did she tell you and Lupe about her condition?” he said.

“Not much. The doctors found a disease they thought was curable. She’d contracted it when she was little. How much she wanted to see Lupe and I grow old. She didn’t want us to lose hope.”

“What about the treatments?”

“Nothing except they left her tired and bothered by bright light. You saw how dark the house was. Lupe and I spent a lot of time reading to her, listening to her stories from growing up on Bajor. Never any details about what any doctor did. She and Dad agreed it wasn’t important for us to know anything.” A cool breeze blew through the room and Gantt realized his forehead was covered with sweat. Why was he sweating suddenly?

“Azar tried to keep peace at home even when hope was gone,” said Mateo. Softly, as though whispering the words into the ear of a past self. He stood up and shoved the crate towards Gantt. “Sit down, Nephew. Sit.”

Gantt hesitated, then wiggled into place. The air was suddenly warm and still to the point of stifling. From deep inside a voice shouted at him to run but another voice warned him that he needed to hear. He nodded, and Uncle Mateo pulled a small flask from a hidden pocket, took a swift pull, and vanished the flask into its space.

“There’s no easy way so swift will have to do,” said Mateo. “Your father always put on appearances. He wanted to be important. Wanted others to think he was a better man than they were. Everything he did was for the appearance of it. You know it’s true.” Mateo looked over Gantt’s shoulder to a point outside the window. Perhaps beyond the mountains. “Maybe he loved Azar once. Maybe he saw more in her than an intelligent, cultured Bajoran woman. Oh, she was all that for years but with the disease she changed into a wraith who drained his time, his chances, and his prestige.

For Marcos, well, he thought strong, smart men don’t live with weak women. Divorcing an ill woman was unacceptable so he “kept her on.” His words. He also told her he’d never have married a “science experiment of the Cardassian Union.”Azar never dared defy him, and she’d not take herself for medical help.”

“Take herself? Dad drove her to the medical facilities.”

“Did she tell you that? Did he? Did he ever talk about your mom’s condition, make plans for their future together, or promise to help her overcome it? She never kept a single appointment.

I tried to talk Marcos, that stubborn, vain cabrón, into saving his wife. He yelled back, made threats, and said weakness is something we choose. Marcos wanted a wife to adorn his arm and make nice with the academic powers. He talked about their love, but in him, it existed only from his teeth outward.”

“No, he couldn’t have let her die with three kids who also needed their mom. No human could watch their partner just… die.” Gantt was almost begging Mateo to lie to him, but in the wrinkles and the tough skin that had always been stretched around too much pain, the truth was etched in his eyes as though in granite. Mateo shuffled the last few feet and put a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. Their red eyes and bruised hearts watched each other in silence.

“He’ll tell you the same if you ask. He’ll be surprised like I am that you never knew. He might even admit he hoped his kids would be tougher than their mom.”

“I thought—” Gantt cleared his throat of the words tangled up with no room to come out. “I thought the same defects that killed my mom would do the same to me. I didn’t want to leave my partner like Dad was alone and make them watch me slowly dissolve. None of the reports explained what happened to Mom, or how they wouldn’t work on me, either.”

“The report says the doctors can stop the disease. They can’t undo it. Your brain is what it is, and that is amazing. I’ve read some of the things you did. I’ve seen them, right here.”

“Every friend I made was another person I would lose when the disease took me. Like it killed Mom. And now you’re saying it won’t kill me,” Gantt said.

“No, it won’t. You’ll live, assuming your stupid-ass companions don’t get you dead on some away mission. I’m sorry, Ganttito,.” Mateo reached over and held one of Gantt’s hands flat between two hard, rough palms. “I didn’t bring you here to fix Mira. Well, I did. Look at her. But I wanted you to fix yourself. Let the doctors do the DNA thing, and then go be whoever you want, wherever you want, and with those who deserve you.”

Gantt didn’t move, didn’t look at Mateo, or react visibly to anything he said except to cling to his uncle’s hand. They sat there for a long time. So long the sun hit the bottom of the window sill. Until Gantt’s breathing became slow, regular, and deep again.

Finally, Mateo walked to the door. “Do you know why I named her Mirasol? The sunflower is a complicated plant made up of hundreds of smaller flowers, like facets in a diamond. Our ancient ancestors believed the medicine from sunflowers could heal broken hearts. Sunflowers are tall and strong, and always find the light. Be incredible in your own way.” Mateo left the door ajar when he walked away.

Darkness began to build up on the outside of the ancient garage’s curtains and spill inside. A single song wafted in from the open door as Mateo hummed in the distance. In the tenebrous shop, a single light glowed suddenly on his PADD. Gantt turned to the table where it sat.

A message from his grandmother.

Gantt read it several times. Then he slid down onto the crate and leaned his head on Mira’s bent sides. He pulled both knees up tightly to his chest and realized the heavy band that had trapped his heart and lungs felt looser. A spark of hope flickered in his eyes. Thick, heavy tears rolled down his cheeks.

[OFF]

Lieutenant Soto Gantt (NPC by Leed)
Assistant Chief Engineering Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

 

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