Chapter Text
Part Five
The Bounty remained parked next to Goodlife Ranch as the formalities of Zesh’s revised deal for the place were completed.
It didn’t take long. On Nimbus III, formal ownership rights rarely existed in any strict legal sense. So, instead, one moment Goodlife Ranch belonged to Zesh, and the next it didn’t.
The new owners stood inside the stifling heat of the hut and watched as Denella excitedly talked them through their new treasure. A treasure that, despite the Orion woman having hated it for most of the repair, she had grown to find fascinating.
“See,” she said, pointing at the pump unit as she babbled on, “Actually, it’s using an old fashioned mechanical pump to bring up the water, but there’s a whole isolinear control unit bolted on alongside to control the pressure, flow rate, and everything else. There’s this duranium wiring running between the two, and the way the two systems have been integrated is actually—”
She paused and looked back at the blank faces of Bri’tor and Kitaxis staring back at her, apparently less enthused by the details of the uniquely Nimbosian technology in front of them.
“Well,” she added with a shrug, “I thought it was cool.”
Standing to the side of the new owners of Goodlife Ranch, Natasha offered Denella a smile, while Kitaxis stepped forward and shook the Orion woman’s hand.
“Thank you,” she said, with sincerity, if not with understanding.
Denella nodded and smiled, then stepped over to the exit. Just as she was about to leave, she turned back and gestured to a supply crate on the far side of the hut. “Oh, yeah, it’ll be fine if you keep up with the maintenance, but just in case, there’s a spare motor in there. Actually, it’s interesting, because I was expecting it to be an old flywheel design, but it’s actually based on a type that the Klingons use in their—”
The blank stares returned. She gestured to the crate again, slightly embarrassed.
“So, yep, spare parts are over there.”
With this, the green-skinned woman left them alone, and Kitaxis and Bri’tor turned back to Natasha, their faces lighting up with thanks.
“You really gonna let us have all this?” Bri’tor asked, still not believing it.
“We really are,” Natasha nodded back.
She walked over to the pump, filling a canteen with fresh water and passing it to them. They drank thirstily and smiled in satisfaction at the crisp, fresh taste of the life-giving liquid inside.
“So,” she continued, “No Toxis, and all the water that Prosperity County should need to keep everyone healthy. Plus, I’ve unpacked a few basic medical supplies for that infirmary of yours.”
“I don’t know how we can ever thank you,” Kitaxis whispered, “Why are you folks doing all of this for us?”
Natasha paused. She didn’t really want to get into her guilt right now. Because the longer she had thought about it, the less she felt it was mere residual Starfleet guilt, and the more she felt it was something else. A deeper, more long-lasting guilt connected to her final act onboard a starship.
No, she definitely didn’t want to get into that right now.
“Just call it a thank you,” she replied instead, “For everything you helped us with.”
The Nimbosian couple smiled thankfully again. Generosity was in even shorter supply than kindness in Prosperity County.
“And you say it’ll never run out?” Bri’tor asked, gesturing to the pump.
“You’ll need to be careful, ration it appropriately,” she explained, “But from what I can tell, no. There’s a reservoir under here that’s being constantly replenished.”
The husband and wife nodded again, even as Natasha continued without prompting.
“I mean, I know it almost never rains on Nimbus III. But the mountains around this particular valley seem to be made from an especially porous rock, and while the temperature at the peaks doesn’t allow for ice formation, I believe the atmospheric conditions at night must condense the water vapour into droplets all year round, which then pass down through the rock strata to form a permanent water table in the valley that’s high enough to—”
She stopped as she saw a pair of familiar blank faces.
“Well. I thought it was cool.”
* * * * *
Whatever the noise was, it was definitely coming from inside the ship.
Denella had returned to the Bounty to find that all was not right. She crept along the ship’s single main corridor with one ear cocked, trying to figure out what the exact problem was. She prided herself on being able to identify just about any technical or mechanical issue onboard the ship by sound alone. From a loose drive plate to a faulty plasma relay, she was proud to possess a sixth sense in her diagnostic toolkit.
But this sound was new. A harsh and disharmonious rasping sound that she didn’t recognise and was struggling to pin down. Which was very troubling. Because if the Bounty was making a noise she didn’t recognise, that meant that she didn’t know her ship anywhere near as well as she thought she did.
Just as she reached the end of the corridor, and began to wonder whether she needed to start ripping off wall panels to track the source down before they took off, she realised it was coming from the dining area at the front of the ship. She walked over to the doors and heard the rasping sound increasing in intensity. Bracing herself for whatever fresh technical malady lay ahead, she stepped inside.
And found Sunek sitting at the table, blowing into a curious metal object.
“Sunek!” she snapped, “What the hell?”
The Vulcan looked up and took the object away from his mouth, ending the teeth-jarring noise for the time being. He waved the object at her and shrugged. “It’s called a harmonica,” he offered, “Another one of Jirel’s weird old Earth things. Figured it might suit me more than whittling.”
“You’ve definitely given up on that, then?”
Sunek remembered the last thing he’d attempted to use the whittling knife for during his one-sided fight with the Nimbosian goon, and suppressed a shudder.
“Yep,” he said, without expanding on his reasons, “Thought I’d try something musical instead.”
“Is it…supposed to sound like that?”
Sunek looked down at the shiny silver harmonica in his hand and offered another shrug.
“No idea.”
Oblivious to the real reason for his decision to quit whittling, Denella sighed and contemplated the ever-growing list of Sunek’s abandoned hobbies. A list she suspected the harmonica was destined for as well.
“Well, can you maybe practise somewhere more sound-proofed? You had me worried that the ship was falling apart.”
Sunek looked around and took in the ever-sorry state of the Bounty. “The ship is falling apart—?”
“The ship is fine!”
With a further sigh, she turned back to the door. Sunek called out before she exited.
“Hey, um, Denella?”
She patiently turned back around, wondering what additional pithy remark he had lined up for her about her ship. But for once, Sunek wasn’t thinking about pithy remarks. Instead, he was awkwardly trying to do something that was very unlike him. But it was something that, after what had happened during the fight in the ranch, he now feared he needed to do.
He needed help.
“You, um, remember earlier? When I—Y’know, when you talked about us maybe, like…meditating? Together?”
“The thing you said sounded ‘kinda really dumb’?”
Sunek suppressed a grimace and shifted uncomfortably in his chair, as Denella tacitly enjoyed watching the Vulcan squirm for once.
“Yeah, well, I say a lot of things you don’t seem to listen to. Like the other week when half the sonic showers were fritzed, and I cleverly suggested that in the interests of shipwide efficiency, you and Natasha should hop in one together and—”
“Sunek.”
“Ok, fine,” he sighed, giving up on his usual jokes and looking at his friend with a slightly pleading look, “What I’m trying to say—I mean, I’m not sure I’m dealing with…what I’m going through as well as I’d like. So, if the offer’s still there, I could find the time to—I mean, I guess we could, maybe—”
“Seven am. Tomorrow. Cargo bay,” she smiled, “Bring your own mat.”
The Vulcan stopped trying to find the right words, and just nodded back. With a look of sincere thanks.
“I do have one condition,” she added.
“Yeah?”
She gestured to the silver instrument in his hand.
“Never play that thing again.”
She turned and walked out. Sunek watched her leave, then turned the harmonica over in his hand with an absent smile. He felt the storm recede a little bit further, and allowed himself to think that everything was going to be fine.
Seconds later, he snapped his head back up to where Denella had been standing.
“Wait, seven am? In the morning?!”
* * * * *
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”
Zesh stood at the foot of the Bounty’s loading ramp, having accepted their offer of a lift home, squinting through the arid air at the ranch that he had literally just given away. For free. He shuddered to think what an act like this had done to his chances of ever getting into the Divine Treasury.
Alongside him, Jirel and Klath surveyed the ranch from under the brims of their hats.
“I mean,” the Ferengi continued, “What am I supposed to tell my buyer? He’s travelling a long way for this.”
“Tell the truth,” Jirel shrugged, “You got a better offer.”
Zesh turned and fixed him with an annoyed glare.
“I’m serious,” the Trill persisted, “You can’t judge everything you do in this life on how much latinum it’s worth to you.”
“Can and will,” Zesh countered.
Jirel smiled in amusement as the Ferengi kicked his heels in the dust. The worst part of the whole sorry affair, as far as Zesh was concerned, wasn’t the loss of the latinum, or even the damage this might cause his business relationship with Choth, a Markalian that he had always found had more latinum than sense.
The worst part was that, deep down, he feared that he knew they were doing the right thing.
“Ugh,” he griped as he continued to kick the dirt, “Never let a hew-mon’s conscience get in the way of a sale…”
“That a Rule of Acquisition?” Jirel asked.
“No. But it definitely should be.”
From the direction of the ranch, Natasha wandered over to join them, having said her goodbyes to the bartender and the nurse who were now in charge of Goodlife Ranch for posterity. As she reached them, she smiled broadly at Jirel, who matched it right back.
“Thank you,” she said, “For finally seeing sense.”
“Hey, don’t thank me. Thank the bartender back there that saved the life of this stupid wannabe cowboy. Spent so long replicating myself all the gear, I forgot that these people are living this, every day of their lives.”
Natasha’s eyes narrowed slightly at this ostentatious confession. “I mean, I’ve literally been saying that to you ever since we first got here—”
“So, yeah, you’re welcome,” Jirel added quickly, ending that moment of gloating with an elaborate tip of his hat.
She shook her head, before gesturing back up the Bounty’s rear ramp. “We ready to go?”
“Not quite,” Jirel said, looking over at Klath with a widening grin, “Come on, buddy. One ‘yee-haw’ for the road?”
Klath grunted impassively. But Jirel wasn’t giving up.
“I’m serious. I’m not leaving this place until I hear you say it.”
“I see,” the Klingon muttered thoughtfully, “Well, in which case…”
He looked back at the expectant face of the Trill, with a slight twinkle in his eye.
“…I hope you enjoy your new life here.”
With that, he turned and walked up the ramp, back into the ship itself. With an amused shake of his head, Jirel followed, along with Zesh and Natasha.
“Fine, be like that,” he pouted, “But I swear I’m gonna make the rest of you see how cool this planet is if it’s the last thing I do. Starting with a weekly movie night. My pick.”
At the top of the ramp, Zesh turned back and cast one last longing look at the once in a lifetime fortune he had allowed himself to leave behind.
“At least this proved one thing,” Zesh sighed, “I was right to leave your crew behind when I did, Jirel. There’s no fortune for me here.”
“You wanna know something that might make you feel better?” Natasha asked, offering the Ferengi a supportive smile.
“Try me,” Zesh shrugged back.
She gestured out to the dusty confines of Goodlife Ranch, and the wider vista of Prosperity County beyond. “Well, you might have just succeeded where the Federation, the Klingon Empire, the Romulans and god knows how many other people have failed, and spread a little bit of happiness on the Planet of Galactic Peace.”
Zesh mulled the gravity of this statement over for a long, solemn moment. “No,” he concluded eventually, with a firm shake of his bulbous head, “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
Natasha smirked and walked off towards the cockpit with Klath, while Jirel tapped the controls to retract the cargo ramp.
“You know,” Zesh muttered to him after the others had left the cargo bay, “You should watch that hew-mon and her pesky conscience. It’ll be the death of you one day.”
Jirel let out an amused snort, as they followed the others out of the cargo bay. The Trill still clinking with every step.
“I should go change my shoes…”
* * * * *
A few moments later, the Bounty slowly rose up from the dusty surface of the desert. As it ascended, it kicked up a great swirling cloud of sand as it did so, enough to sting the eyes of some of the more unfortunate horses grazing back at the ranch.
Not that the horses seemed to care all that much about the sand, or the noise. After a moment, they returned to their grazing.
The Ju’Day-type raider pirouetted around gracefully and slowly ascended into the sky, before blasting away from the ranch and leaving Prosperity County behind.
Riding off into the sunset.
* * * * *
Bri’tor and Kitaxis sat in each other’s arms and watched the off-worlders depart. They carried on staring up into the sky for a long time, even as the ship finally disappeared from view above their heads.
After a moment, Bri’tor glanced at his wife and smiled. “Reckon today’s been a pretty good day.”
Kitaxis smiled and nodded back. “Reckon it has.”
Those sorts of days were few and far between around here, and they appreciated the rarity with another moment of contented silence, even as the sand kicked up by the Bounty’s departure drifted back down to the ground.
“Fresh water,” Bri’tor muttered eventually with another smile, “All the fresh water that folks around here’ll ever need.”
Kitaxis looked up into her husband’s eyes and nodded again. “Feels like everything around here’s finally going right for all of us,” she asserted, “Not a moment too soon as well.”
They allowed themselves to be overwhelmed by another contented silence.
It was true that things were going well for them now. After all, Toxis was gone, Arcadia Falls was free, and they now had the treasures of Goodlife Ranch to enrich and energise the local population on top of that. Enough water to satisfy the thirst of the entire region. Maybe the entire planet.
“You know,” Bri’tor quietly mused as he considered their future, “There’ll be a big demand for all this water.”
“Naturally,” Kitaxis nodded.
“So, I was thinking…we should probably organise some sort of protection. Y’know?”
Kitaxis considered this for a moment.
“What sort of protection?”
Bri’tor shifted awkwardly as he thought things through in his head. “Well,” he ventured, “I was thinking we’ll need to keep hold of all these weapons. Maybe even get a few extra hands around the place. To keep things nice and secure, right?”
“Like guards, you mean?”
“Sure, like guards. A few loyal guard-type people.”
Kitaxis nodded. It made sense to her. After all, this was a very precious commodity they’d been given.
“Seems like a good idea,” she replied, “Just to be safe, after all. Just a few men. Enough to protect us. And our ranch.”
Their ranch. It was their ranch, after all. They’d been given it.
Another moment of silence descended over the pair. Both of their minds were now quickly turning over.
“Of course,” Kitaxis said eventually, “Those men would need paying…”
“Right,” Bri’tor nodded, “Men ain’t gonna work without a fee. But the bar doesn’t make enough for all that.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“But, I guess we might make a little extra if we…”
His attention drifted over to the hut containing the water pump. The one that they had been given to spread happiness around Prosperity County.
“Yeah,” Kitaxis nodded, “I mean, we wouldn’t charge a lot. We’d be practically giving it away.”
“Absolutely. But we gotta pay the men somehow. And then there’s maintenance, upkeep, that kinda thing.”
“Oh yeah. Plus…a little for ourselves.”
The husband and wife broke their calming embrace and stood up, their attention now entirely on the hut, and the profit inside. And they continued to discuss their plans, and how best they could exploit the opportunity that had been presented to them.
And how they would eventually control Arcadia Falls, and Prosperity County in general. And how they would be different from all the others that had controlled Arcadia Falls in the past. Even though, deep down, they knew they probably wouldn’t be all that different.
But that didn’t matter.
It was just the way things were on Nimbus III.
The End