Charity

Posted on May 13, 2015 @ 1:50pm by Ensign Chaucer
Edited on on May 13, 2015 @ 1:50pm

Mission: The Lights of Hyperion

= Charity =

(cont'd from "Celebration")



LOCATION: USS PHOENIX

SCENE: Shanty Town

STARDATE: [2.15] 0513.0016



The food machines had finally started working, and tensions in the cargo bays had started to ease a little. The desperation and restless was still there, but full bellies and exhaustion had started to take the edge off, at least for now. Of course, the process of getting fed was still a long one. Lines for the replicator stations moved fairly quickly, but there were just too many people and not enough replicators. People waited for sometimes an hour for their turn at the machine, where they would greedily replicate as much as their daily ration allowed before rushing back to their cot to feast.



Chaucer hadn't had his turn yet. Even when the replicators first came online, the Gorn had waited at his cot as the rest of the humanoids lined up. Chaucer's metabolism didn't work as fast as Terrans', and he'd eaten recently enough that he could stand to go awhile longer without food. Besides, he didn't want to create a fuss, lining up with the humans. There was still too much pushing and jostling for position for Chaucer's taste. He didn't want to think what might happen if he got into an altercation with one of the other refugees.



Eventually, the hunger pangs had crept in, and so now Chaucer found himself standing in line, with the replicator assigned to his section of the cargo bay still a good distance away. The Gorn would stand with near-perfect stillness until the line moved, then he would take a single step forward and then come again to a perfect stop. He kept his eyes low, not inviting eye contact with the other refugees. So far, no one had spoken to him, though he'd heard a few people talking about him a few feet back in the line. That was alright. Talk was alright. Talk wasn't confrontation, wasn't violent action.



The line moved, and Chaucer stepped forward. He risked a glance up and looked around. Things finally seemed to be settling down. People were sleeping on their cots, not clutching their belongings so tightly any more. There were always Starfleet personnel on hand, usually marines, and they'd done a good job at curtailing the more obvious crimes. Things still went missing, there were still reports of assaults, but nothing too serious.



Chaucer glanced over, saw two of the marines standing at attention not far from the replicator station, their eyes sweeping back and forth between the line for the replicator station and the rest of the cargo bay. Chaucer noticed that one of the marines looked like he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Chaucer hoped none of the other refugees had noticed this. It was the kind of thing that they might think they could use, something to be turned to their advantage. That would mean trouble. Chaucer wondered if these marines were ready if trouble started. He'd already noticed that some of the marines seemed different than the others. Some were more alert, carried themselves differently. Most of them looked awkward, stunted, like they were wearing itchy clothing that didn't quite fit. Chaucer wondered if they were really "marines" at all, but the thought made him nervous. If he had noticed, someone else might have too.



The line moved, and Chaucer started to step forward. He stopped suddenly. While he had been looking at the marines, a Terran man had slipped himself quietly into the line ahead of Chaucer. The Gorn had almost knocked the man over when he'd moved to step forward. The man glanced back at the Gorn, frowned, then looked forward again without saying anything.



Chaucer activated his Vox: [[No.]]



The man didn't even turn around, made no sign at all that he'd heard. Chaucer held his wrist out, so it was closer to the man's ear, and activated the Vox again.



[[No.]]



The man turned, looking annoyed.



"Back off, scaly," he said, then turned to face forward again.



[[My name is Chaucer,]] the Vox squawked. Chaucer tried to contort his lips into a downward curve, an expression of anger and expaseration in humans, and one that his lizard physiology just couldn't quite match.



"Cute toy," the man said. "Get lost."



[[No,]] Chaucer's Vox said. [[Help. No. My name is Chaucer.]]



"Are you *deaf*?" the man said, turning now to glare up at the big Gorn. Other people in line had started to notice. The person in front of the man, the one who had been in front of Chaucer before this interloper had jumped the queue, turned to look back at them as well.



"What's wrong, Kellen?"



"This big green idiot won't stop playing his voicebox in my ear," the line-jumper, Kellen, replied.



Chaucer's nostrils flared. [[No. Help. My name is Chaucer.]]



"What the hell do you keep using that thing for?" Kellen asked.



Chaucer gestured at the spot where Kellen was now standing. Then he pointed to his chest, then back to Kellen's spot. He repeated the gesture several times.



"What's he doing?" the man in front of Kellen asked.



"How the hell should I know?" Kellen asked. "Use your words, greenskin!"



"Hey, you're holding up the line," the person behind Chaucer said. Chaucer glanced back at the person behind him and repeated his "he stole my spot in line" gesture to the person behind him, but they didn't understand it. "Look, we're all hungry, pal, just keep the line going, okay?"



"Yeah, *pal*," Kellen said. He gave Chaucer a look that was unmistakable for any species and turned back to his friend in front of him. He said something, and the two men laughed, glancing back at Chaucer.



Chaucer's eyes dropped to the floor. Of course, he could have seized Kellen by one hand, hoisted the human into the air and tossed him across the cargo bay, but that would only lead to trouble. He had waited this long for food, he could wait a little longer.



"I saw the whole thing," came a voice. Chaucer looked up, as did Kellen and his friend. Standing nearby was a Terran male with graying hair and a serious expression. Kellen and his friend didn't look impressed, but then neither did the stranger.



"Get lost, Embry," Kellen said.



"Yeah, the line starts back there," said Kellen's friend, gesturing all the way back to the end of the line.



"You should be ashamed of yourselves," the man named Embry said, shaking his head. "There's plenty of food to go around for everyone now, and you have to act like immature children."



Chaucer understood was the human Embry was trying to do- he wasn't the first human to take pity on the Gorn, after all- but he wished that Embry would stop. For all his good intentions, Embry was only calling more attention to the Gorn, and it was attention that Chaucer didn't want.



[[No. Help.]] Chaucer shook his head at Embry as he activated his Vox, silently willing the human to get the message.



"He doesn't need help," Kellen said to Emrby, having somehow understood this message from Chaucer's Vox.



"Never turn down a helping hand," Embry said, ignoring Kellen and smiling up at the Gorn. "We're stronger when we stand together."



Chaucer wasn't sure how that advice applied to his current situation, but he nodded again and let his gaze drift back to the floor. He hoped that Embry would go away, but Embry didn't. Instead, he had turned towards the front of the line, and was waving a hand over his head. Chaucer glanced in the direction Embry was waving, and saw that a Vulcan was several meters ahead in line, waving back.



"Please come with me," Embry said to the Gorn. He smiled again, and held out a hand. "It's alright, you can trust me."



Chaucer hesitated. He activated his Vox. [[No. Help. No.]]



"I understand you don't want to be fussed over," Embry said. "Don't worry. I promise, nobody will bother you. You're only getting what you deserve."



The human's hand was still extended, and Emrby's gaze never wavered. Kellen and his comrade had apparently lost interest, and the line had started to move again. Chaucer had to make a decision. Reluctantly, he accepted Embry's outstretched hand.



"Thank you," Embry smiled. Then, they were moving, Embry heading towards where the Vulcan was standing, towing the much larger Gorn behind him. Chaucer went along willingly, trying to ignore the angry looks the people ahead of him in line were giving as he passed them by. Kellen and his comrade had shouted something as well, but Chaucer was too distracted to hear what it was.



They reached the Vulcan, he nodded to Embry without smiling. The Vulcan stepped out of line, and Embry turned to look at the Gorn.



"Go on," he said. "Take his place."



Chaucer hesitated.



"This is Savaar," Embry said, nodding at the Vulcan. "He is an associate of mine. We have several agents in the line, replicating as much food as they're allowed so that we can distribute the surplus to some of the people who can't wait in line on their own."



Chaucer blinked. If Embry was telling the truth, it was the kind of altruism that one seldom saw among the denizens of LIMBO. Still, Chaucer could feel the angry eyes of the crowd in line behind him. He glanced back at them, then to Embry.



"Go ahead," Embry said, his voice soft, his gaze kind. "I've been watching you, you know. If you'll forgive me for saying, you stand out somewhat among the rest of the people here. You waited patiently, when you could have shoved your way to the front of the line without anyone stopping you. But you're not throwing your weight around, demanding what you haven't earned. I respect that."



Chaucer didn't say anything, because of course he could not. He simply stared back at Embry.



"It's behavior that should be *rewarded*," Embry said. "Acting in the spirit of brotherhood with your fellow refugees. Taking more of the burden on yourself to ease it on someone else. It's commendable. And it deserves far more respect than those two gentlemen were prepared to give you."



Chaucer glanced over to the Vulcan. [[Help. Yes. No.]]



"If that is meant as an offer of choice," the Vulcan named Savaar said, "... then I must choose yes, I will help. As a group, we are displaced and at the mercy of our hosts. It is only logical that we should work together."



"Go on, Chaucer," Embry said, resting a warm hand on the Gorn's bicep and gently easing him to step in Savaar's place in the line. Finally, the Gorn acquiesced. There was a murmur through the line, but Embry's eyes snapped to the crowd in an instant. "None of you have lost anything. Your position in the line is the same. Your wait will be the same. And if any of you have problems with my decision to give to this Gorn, of myself and at no cost to you, I urge you to consider this: if you hold charity in such contempt, perhaps you're waiting in the wrong line."



No one in the crowd had anything to say to this. Embry nodded once, as if in approval of the crowd's apparent surrender to his logic, and turned back to Chaucer.



"Savaar will remain with you, to make sure you are not harassed again," he said. "Take care of yourself, Chaucer. I think we will all need you if our community is to survive."



=[/\]=



Shawn Putnam

a.k.a.

Jake Crichton

Chief Engineering Officer

USS PHOENIX