Cantrell: The Early Years, Part Four

Calm Before the Storm, a Cantrell: The Early Years, Part Four Update

 

 

The wave undulated beneath her, cold white foam fizzing at her sides, as she floated along on her back.  A chill shook her.  She knew she couldn’t stay there forever.  It was much too cold this time of year.  For now, however, she simply rode the crest as the water rushed to the shore and then slowly pulled back to start anew, lulling her into a rare sense of peace . . .

 

“Cold?  Have some coffee.”

 

“Huh?” Brianna Cantrell startled, snapping back into herself.  She really had been metaphysically playing out on those waves, to her chagrin.  Turning from the railing, she glanced at her father sheepishly, so certain he could read the shame of her wandering on her face.

 

“Were you asleep?” Joseph Cantrell asked, “or just wool-gathering?”

 

Brianna gave her father a weak smile, relieved for the moment at his apparent ignorance, noting the concerned furrow carved into his brow.  “I don’t sleep,” she said, taking the coffee cup from him.  “Sleep is the enemy.  Only now the dreams are invading my wakefulness.”

 Hugging the hot mug, she took a seat in one of the deck chairs. 

Sunset was still more than an hour away, yet the waning light provided little warmth this time of year.  Still there was no better place to observe the day’s end, than out here on the deck, something Brianna used to do with her father back on Vulcan when she was a child.  She needed the comfort of those memories right now.

 

A light went on inside the beach house.  She glanced toward the window briefly at the movement inside.  Preparations had started for the evening’s barbeque.

 

Joseph leaned against the railing, his back to the Pacific Ocean.  “You look terrible, Breezy.”

“I suppose that’s why Starfleet gave me R & R.”

“Humph.”

Smoothing the light blonde fringes that covered her forehead, for the most part hiding the scar there, she sighed, not meeting her father’s eyes.  “No, that’s a lie.  I’m shipping out in three days.  Just when I was beginning to feel like some sort of guinea pig.  A lab rat with no escape . . . seems I may prove useful to them after all.”

 

“Special Services, Bree?” Joseph frowned.  He took a seat near hers and put a hand on her arm.  “I know there’s a lot going on in the universe of late.  Brianna shot him a glance. “Lots of unrest . . .”

 

“I should have known they wouldn’t let me be an ordinary Lieutenant, J.G.  And here I thought archaeology was the perfect outlet for my Gifts.  Uncover a bone or a clay pot.  Hold it in my hands for a moment and tell them who or what it was.  Its use and why.”

 

“Innocuous.  Harmless.  Safe.”

 

“Safe,” she nodded.  Very little about the current situation had made it into the press.  Whole planets were being attacked by some very odd manifestation of plants. Poison plants that killed by spores excreted, or if a person survived would infect their brains until they were useless to society. Reports of the Admiral’s sudden death, of course, had trickled its way into the media and the funeral was telecast throughout the Federation. 

 

Starfleet was keeping a tight lid on the rest, including the use of a highly specialized team being brought together by the Vulcans at this moment to spearhead what they hoped would be a preemptive strike against this unknown plant-based entity. To that end, Brianna had been summoned despite Starfleet’s earlier threat to rescind her commission.

 

Exactly how and why she would be used Brianna could only guess at this moment, adding to her discomfiture. Giving specifics of her mission wasn’t an option open to her, however, as if her thoughts were blocked. Whatever her father knew or felt was simply the result of his own divination — her Gifts had been hereditary. Many of her family members exhibited some level of psychic ability.

 

Joseph Cantrell had also been a Marine some years ago, so Brianna knew he wouldn’t press her for classified details.  Instead, she let the roar of the surf below fill the void between them. 

 

“Daddy, I’m so alone,” she began again after a time.  “And I’m scared.”

“I know you are.”

“On Vulcan they accepted my Gifts.”

 

“On Vulcan they tried to train away your Gifts.  They straight-jacketed you, kept you from exploring the depths and breadth of what God gave you.  To His glory, Bree.  And if you don’t feel comfortable with what Starfleet wants, to hell with them, too.  You just send those uniforms on a one-way passage to the dry cleaners.”

“Dad — Daddy, please.”  The glass slider was pulled open behind them, making a noise that caused Brianna to turn slightly. 

 

“And if they squawk about the hundreds of thousands they expended on your training, I’ll simply make a quick transfer of credits to cover it.  After all I’m good for it.  In fact, I can get Jonathan working on it right away.”

“But Dad . . .” Brianna sighed.  Her father was next to impossible sometimes.  “Daddy. Being scared doesn’t mean I can’t handle . . .”    

“We’ll have you sprung by dinner tonight.” Joseph’s grin was small.  Brianna knew what he was doing — what he’d always done even when she was a small child — couching his intent with a bit of humor to snap her out of her present funk. To some extent it worked.  She just wished he wouldn’t always insist on fixing things for her.

 

“Dad, really.  This was my choice of career —”

 

“Dad and his almighty credit account to the rescue again!” Erik said, as he came out to the deck followed by two of their three brothers. He held up a small personal P.A.D.D. and waved it about before he plopped into a chair next to  his little sister.

 

“I can feel my arms growing shorter,” she said.  “He never lets me solve my own problems.”

 

“Yours, too?” Erik teased.

 

“I wouldn’t scoff, if I were you,” warned Aaron, the eldest of the Cantrell brood. Erik grinned. “So, little girl, what’s Dad getting you out of?  Me — it was a couple of annoyance tickets. Really, I’ve gotten no love since I got back from my world tour.”

 

“It was disturbing the peace, and you're not above the law, Global Superstar, notwithstanding” Aaron corrected, sliding the glass door closed behind him. “He had to go before the magistrate. The fine was hefty. Happily, the Judge waived jail-time. He could have done both.”

 

"Oh," Brianna said quietly, in between comments.

 

“More like destroying the piece,” Joe, Jr. chuckled.  “He’s still editing the music a tad.” Grasping his older brother by the shoulders, he gave Erik a slight shake.  “If only he wouldn’t do it out on the deck at three A.M.” 

 

"Sheesh get off of my back,” Erik said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the one who called it in.”

 

“Erik?” Brianna questioned.

 

Erik scrubbed at the blond frizzle on his chin. “What do you want from me? I was experimenting a little, trying to come up with a new sound. Sincerely.  I’m a growing musician — with shortened arms.” He winked and gazed directly at his sister,  “And you haven’t answered my question.” 

 

Brianna watched her older brothers with amusement, enjoying their usual banter. “I’ve been assigned to the Enterprise . . .” she said, certain nobody heard her.

“That rust-bucket of a ship?” seven- year-old Adrian complained.  He stepped out onto the deck hugging his can of soda pop.  “She’s ancient!  Well past her prime.  What did you do wrong, Bree?”  He glanced at her coffee mug and grimaced.  “I thought you hated coffee?”

 

“Long cold nights of studying,” she shrugged.  “You get used to it.”  Adrian rolled his blue eyes and perched himself on the rail closest to the house, leaning against the wall.

 

“Well, at least they’ve given you a ship, that’s good.” Erik clapped his hands, “Garcon, a round of juice. This calls for a celebration.  Our little sister, at long last, has a ship.”

“Not so fast.  I was once assigned to the Excelsior, too, don’t forget and before I could get my bags packed, they pulled me off again.”

 

“Well,” Aaron added, settling his tall frame into a seat in the corner of the deck, “that happens.  It’s Starfleet.”

 

“Yes, but the Excelsior is set for a five-year mission.  It’s just what I needed.  To put this all behind me.  I mean, it’s what everybody’s urging me to do.  Treat it like the  bad breakup it is. Get over it and move on, right?  That’s what I’m supposed to do.  Instead of sitting here like a wounded bird.”

 

Erik leaned in close, “What does your heart tell you to do?”

Brianna’s gaze was intense.  “My heart,” she said, “is what got me into this whole mess.  The Vulcans are right to employ only Logic.”

more to come . . .