"Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus"
(Or "Stash returns to full time posting on the Galaxy!")
Stardate: Somthingorother.4
Location: USS GALAXY, shared quarters of Kathy Kelly (NPC) and Ensign
Zeke Wikkins, Security.
Ensign Zeke Wikkins walked through the corridors of the Galaxy just
before the graveyard shift. His recently relocated shoulder - wounded
in the attack on the Lammergier asteroid - still throbbed a bit, despite
the medication from Dr. Malgan.
The crisis the crew and ship had been faced with had stabilized. He could now
see crewmembers beginning to walk about the halls with much less nervousness
- even at the current hour.
He stopped in front of "his" quarters and straightened his
uniform, just on the off chance that Kathy Kelly was still awake. The
doors slid open and the large man slipped inside into the darkness. He
sighed with relief as the doors closed and the shadows engulfed him.
His head was still pounding and he wanted nothing more than to lay down
for the evening with a gel pack on his forehead.
Kathy was apparently fast asleep, so he stripped off his uniform and
wandered over to the replicator.
"Gel pack ....cold...." he whispered.
A loud chirp acknowledged his request causing him to jump. The blue
pack materialized and he grabbed it and gingerly made his way to the
couch that served as his temporary bed.
He didn't want to wake Kathy rummaging around for his pajamas, so he figured
he would just slip back into his uniform before she awoke in the morning. He
was eager to crawl under the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch.
"Lights!" Kathy yelled from the couch and the room was instantly
lit up. He absentmindedly covered himself with the first thing that he
found available - the cold gel pack. His eyes snapped open as he made "first
contact" with the icy blue coldness.
Kathy seemed a bit startled by his appearance. "Where have you
been buddy? Galavanting around, swilling synthahol in the bar? Having
a ball, no pun intended, in the holo deck?"
Zeke was freezing himself to death and the last thing he wanted was
another trip to the mad Russian doctor. "If thou must know, I was
in the sickbay. Now..."
"What did you do to your groin?" she asked with what seemed
like a mixture of amusement and genuine concern as she peered down his
muscular frame nonchalantly until her eyes rested below his waist.
"NOTHING!..I mean..I injured my shoulder during the attack on
the Lammergier asteroid. Woman please. Thy inquisition..." he replied,
clutching the pack painfully closer.
"So why are you wrapping yourself with the cold pack? Wait, never
mind. I'll never understand the way you men think. Your thought process
is so not normal its scary." she said.
"Woman, if thy will pardon my forwardness, what does thy require
from me at this ungodly hour?"
She slid over and patted the side of the couch. "Come here. Relax."
At this Zeke's eyes grew even bigger.
"I..I am Amish. I don't..."
"Not that, you pervert! " she said with a playful smile. "Although
I could shake your homemade britches if I put my mind to it. I couldn't
sleep and just wanted to talk. To see how your getting along on the ship.
To see how your day went."
"Um, does thou have any idea what time it is? Roosters back upon
my father's farm do not even think of crowing this early in the morn.
And thee were sitting in the dark wanting to...chat?" Zeke said,
easing onto the sofa next to her, careful to keep a respectful distance,
yet still keep his unmentionable covered.
"Sure, whats wrong with that?"
"Er, nothing...but right now?" Wikkins asked greatly confused
and on the virge of frostbite.
"Typical male!" She said swatting him in the shoulder as
she stood up. Zeke doubled over in pain as she hit his sore shoulder.
"Sister Kelly..." he groaned.
"No, no, its all right. You don't have to talk now if you don't
want to, Mr. Insensitive. I don't want you to do anything your not comfortable
doing. I'll just go to bed, maybe read a book or something" she
said.
She walked past Zeke and glanced down reflexively at his groin again as she
walked past. "Ahem..You ..ah..better get some sleep. "
The doors to her bedroom swished shut behind her. The Security officer
sat there for a moment, catching his breath before he realized that he
was still holding the ice pack to his ever shrinking nether region.
He then realized what she was talking about and walked over to her door.
"I am not tired, it is just half frozen if thy must know!" he
yelled.
"Good night Zeke." she called out.
"Seriously!" he said defending his manliness.
"Whatever you say Zeke!" she called out.
He limped back to the couch, flopped down and dropped the gel pack
on the floor and sighed as he pulled the cover over himself. "Heavenly
Father grant my groin relief..." he started to say in prayer, then
blushed.
"Thou know what I mean, Lord." he said embarrassed and glancing over
at Kathy's bedroom door.
At least his headache was gone.
OOC: Here's the next-in-line of the Cass/T'Shani mini-saga. Hope you
enjoy! Only three more episodes, until the big 'surprise', at the end!
Hehe...
MJ
==========
"From the Shadows, Part VI"
STARRING:
T'Shani A'Akledorian
Cassius Henderson
GUEST STARRING:
Arthur Blackwelder (F. Byrne)
Norra Ridgeway (M. Miller)
AMIE (Both)
Captain Brenna Worthman (F. Byrne)
SPECIAL APPEARANCES:
Colonel Al'indal Markay'di'n (M. Miller)
Captain Michelle Novanya (F. Byrne)
--------------------
** Following "From the Shadows, Part V" **
=^= 0100, 10 February 2381: Bridge of USS Holdfast (NCC-1947) =^=
Marine Colonel (Detached, special assignment: Above Top Secret)
Al'indal Markay'di'n ran a finger through his long snow-white whiskers
as he looked over the Mission Ops board. It wasn't like a standard
LCARS panel, however.
Actually, there really *were* no panels to speak of on the bridge at
all. Instead, the same strange white-creme colored floor, walls, and
ceiling wrapped around the small duty crew, creating a sense of
ethereal openness and space.
In front of him, the holodisplay *floated* beneath his hands and up,
around - yet slightly below - his forward vision. Using both
eye-tracking and icono-digital inputs, he was able to manipulate the
controls and data feeds much faster than if he had used only his hands.
Markay'di'n looked over to a section of the Ops board that had begun
pulsing a dark maroon color. Using his implanted nano-array, the Deltan
officer 'looked' at that section, causing it to zoom-out and open into
different data blocks, projected three-dimensionally around his vision.
~Good~
Although neither technically 'outranked' the other, Al'indal deferred
to Michelle as to what was happening, as the Holdfast *was* her ship.
Even so, *he* was responsible for the eventual success or failure of
the
mission objectives.
"Team has entered interspace, Captain. Estimated time of arrival
at
objective: thirty minutes and counting," he announced to Novonya,
who
was seated in her command chair in the still-traditional center of the
bridge.
Novonya's teeth were clenched, and it took effort to open her mouth
to
reply. Waiting during an operation was always tough, she thought as
she forced herself to reply. "Thank you, Colonel. Keep me appraised
of
their ETA every five minutes." She looked over to the officer in
charge of monitoring AMIE. His report should be next.
"Sir, AMIE has initialized her secondary protocols," the young
man in
Intel Black reported from the next console over.
~Now, if things will go as planned...~ Al'indal thought. But he knew
better than to hope in that. No...a Marine never 'hoped'. He either
did, or did-not. And now, he was counting on his protege to *DO*.
~C'mon Tish, don't let us down~
=^= 0130: Romulan Interspatial Starbase, Rel'kessan System =^=
[<Shuttle Dalteri, state your cargo and intentions,>] a gruff
voice
spoke in Romulan, over the comm-link.
The Romulan SubCommander at the helm leaned over to speak into the
microphone, as Tish held her breath.
"<Control, we are transporting Federation spy's as prisoners,
apprehended while preparing to infiltrate the secure interspace zone.
I intend to deliver them to Base Command,>" she replied in a
clipped,
military-style of Rihannsu dialect.
There was a moment's pause, as the base officer was - in no-doubt
-verifying the transport's clearance codes and orders.
[<Acknowledged, Dalteri. You are ordered to Bay Five, Section Three
for
secure landing. Adjust course now to bear on Approach Lane Five.>]
"<Adjusting course now, Control. Shuttle Dalteri ETA is five
minutes.
Standing by,>" she turned off the microphone while keeping the
communication's array on standby, as the autopilot guided the transport
toward the starbase.
Quietly, she turned around to her 'passengers'...
*****
Norra still wasn't sure that this had been such a 'bright idea'. She'd
been the one to point out that they stood less of a chance of getting
caught by using a simple beam-in/beam-out.
But, according to Mister 'High-and-Mighty Technology' (Blackwelder)
standard transporters couldn't operate in interspace. So now, they were
stuck in the present situation.
Cass Henderson crouched, lying back with his head against the wall.
He
was engaging in a method of meditation taught to him by Worthman many
years before, floating information that he wanted to remember on the
top of his mind. He was grateful that they'd destroyed all of their
written information before being taken onto the transport.
He envied T'Shani A'Akledorian, he realized. She'd had the luxury of
being with those she 'cared for' before they left. He had spent the
final hours in conference with Art Blackwelder, a man whom he disliked,
on most days. Neither his patrons - deMercereau or Worthman - or his....he
didn't know how to describe Rima. What was she to him? It wasn't a question
he could answer, or should be trying to answer. Not right now, in any
case.
Arthur Blackwelder fumed. He'd gotten into an argument with Gunnery
Sergeant Ridgeway about the technological aspects of their mission.
Marines just didn't *understand* the finer points of technology, which
made Red Division the obvious solution to their techno-intelligence
needs.
~Why waste time making your own advances when you can steal other
people's?~ All that marines understood was force and....he groaned
silently. He was starting to sound like Mister
'Self-Righteous-Idealist' Henderson.
For her part, Tish hadn't spoken at all since they had been taken
aboard the transport. She laid her back into the hard, cold inner hull
wall of the transport, trying to prepare herself for how she was going
to get her team out of *this* one...
*SWISH!*
Cassius looked up, just in time for a Rihannsu security team to march
smartly into the shuttle and gather them up. He took notice that the
troopers wore unmarked uniforms. It wasn't too surprising, he decided.
It was a political environment where the Tal Shiar was on the decline
and Rihannsu Naval Intelligence had stepped into the foreground of the
new intelligence establishment on ch'Rihan. These men were struggling
to find the 'win' that would save their dying organization.
The team was roughly brought to their feet and walked-off the
transport;
four guards on either side. The Tal Shiar wasn't taking any chances,
this time.
The SubCommander warily trailed the guards and prisoners out of the
shuttlebay, as well.
Casting his eyes ahead, Cass concentrated on the layout of the base,
memorizing as he went, and trying not to be distracted by the swaying
of T'Shani's hips. Did she always have be so....*overwhelming* with
her body language? On the other hand, he was sure that one of the
Rihannsu guards was staring at that same ass, and that meant the*guard*
was *off-guard*.
Tish continued her walk in silence, noting that the guard
accompanying Cass - behind and to the left of her - was sufficiently
distracted by her 'assets'. She made sure Cass got an eyeful, too. Tish
really couldn't help teasing him. It was her way at getting back at him
for his staunch idealism. Quickly, she discreetly glanced with her
antenna to Ridgeway, to her right.
Norra noticed Tish's signal and nodded, ever so slightly. She blinked
two times, while keeping her face neutral, giving nothing away. They
were set. Now, if their 'hosts' would be cooperative...
Henderson watched Norra and T'Shani's signals, and flicked his middle
finger at Blackwelder, who glowered back. They were ready. And it
seemed they'd reached their destination.
The SubCenturion on duty for this detention block stood and removed
her
sidearm before stepping forward to issue the standard challenge.
"<Identification and orders.>"
It was a command, not a statement.
~Here goes nothin'~ Norra thought, as the SubCommander that had
delivered them stepped to the front of the group and bowed slightly to
the SubCenturion, then saluted sharply in the traditional Romulan way.
Quickly, she spoke, without challenging the SubCenturion's eyes.
"<SubCommander Tem'la of the IRV M'Nessa, transferring prisoners
from
shuttle Dalteri to primary detention cells for incarceration, by
order of Imperial High Command, SubCenturion.>"
"<I'll need to confirm them with the C-in-C, SubCommander,>" the
SubCenturion replied. "<It should just take a minute.>" The
Rihannsu
officer turned and walked back over to her console to entered the
information into the computer terminal.
As the SubCenturion worked to confirm the orders, an Instant Message
flashed across all of the team member's TEDDs. The ensuing
*conversation* took less than two seconds to complete, between the
team, with the help of the nano-arrays.
[AMIE: STANDBY FOR ESCAPE MANEUVER ALPHA-FIVE. CONFIRM.]
All four "YES-NO" indicators quickly blinked to [YES].
[AMIE: CONFIRMED. COMMENCE IN FIVE...]
"<SubCommander Tem'la, I can't find anything in the database.
I'm
going to have to call up and make sure this is authorized,>" the
SubCenturion said, raising her disruptor to cover Tem'la.
[...FOUR...]
T'Shani's muscles tensed, readying for action as the SubCenturion
trained her weapon on Tem'la.
[...THREE...]
Norra checked the jammers that she had 'set' via her TEDD on their way
down here. As long as no particle weapons - Rihannsu or 'Fleet - were
discharged, her little 'bugs' could handle re-signaling the data
feeds. Even if the Romulan bastards wound-up dead, her devices could
'fake' their biosigns to the main computer, thus preventing
base-operations from being tipped to their activities.
[...TWO...]
Cassius allowed his eyes to flow through the control menus now embedded
in his vision. He carefully selected the items he needed and waited
for AMIE's countdown to complete. It wouldn't be long now. Then they
could really get the show moving.
[...ONE...]
Art winced. He was capable of combat, but this seemed like an
unnecessary risk. That disruptor could mean the end of the entire
mission before it even began. And he knew the Romulan officer wouldn't
hesitate to vaporize them; guards and all. Collateral-damage
had never been a big deal to the Romulan High Command.
[...MARK. INITIATE.]
SubCommander Tem'la calmly - yet quickly - walked forward, reaching
out
and touched her finger to the SubCenturion's ridged brow. A small
yellow-orange glow emanated from Tem'la's finger, followed by the
rag-doll collapse of the SubCenturion.
In a blur, T'Shani jumped up high, twirling counter-clockwise with her
left-leg extended to catch her guard in the throat, immediately
collapsing his trachea. A moment later, he was lying still on the
floor.
Cassius spun over his right shoulder and thrust his hand forward, a
combat knife appearing as he accessed it from his TEDD. Jabbing, he
caught the distracted guard just below the third rib, severing a
critical nerve-ending. The guard slumped, and Cassius used him as a
shield when Art's guard fired on him.
Blackwelder went into the prepared, choreographed routine, waiting
for the guard to fire on Cass. Then he stepped in behind his opponent,
and carefully broke his neck with a well placed strike with a metal
pole that he had stored in his TEDD.
Norra - the seemingly diminutive blonde Southern Belle - quickly
brought her right arm up to a square, and threw back a wicked punch to
her guard's face, instantly breaking his nose. A split-second later,
she spun around to face him, while quickly stabbing at his abdomen with
a series of punches and finger-spars to his heart; right where a
Terran's liver would normally be. A look of immense pain crossed the
guard's face, then went expressionless as he silently slumped to the
floor.
That was the last of them. She kicked the guard for good measure, just
in case.
~Impressive~ T'Shani thought to herself. Not many humans were trained
in the Vulcan 'Harm Touch' schooling of martial-arts.
"Whoa! What did you just do to him?" Art asked Norra, as soon
as he was
sure the area was clear.
"Stahped his beatin' hahrt, muh'dear," she gave him a teasing
smile
while adding, "Jahst dahn't piss me ahff, *Ahrt*," she teased
sweetly
while selecting the Assault Rifle from her trans-belt's inventory.
~He's actually kinda cute when he's not being such a *dickhead*~ she
mused, while cocking the 'shotgun' with a loud **SWISH-CLICK!**.
"Sure, no problem Norra," Arthur replied, still a little shocked.
He'd
never seen any human do anything like that, and he had seen some
strange combat in his time with SFI. He flicked through his menus and
removed one of the Enhanced Type IIs.
"Alright you two, you can flirt with each other after we get out
of
here, understood?" Tish growled.
Arthur laughed briefly, sighting down the barrel and giving his weapon
a quick once-over, while Norra shot a disgusted glare toward T'Shani.
"AMIE, objectives' status?" Tish queried, while arming herself
with her
hrisal'aa.
The SubCommander's form cocked it's head to the side, while accessing
the station's computer database to compare the information she had
gathered with the current mission objectives. In less than a second,
she had formulated, extrapolated, and determined what had to be done
to
complete the mission in an acceptable time frame.
"The Hellfire is being held at docking bay four, station port side,
under heavy guard. The ship appears intact; it does not seem that the
Romulans have been able to extricate the Deep Shadow drive systems. You
must first deactivate the security protocols in place, by accessing the
main computer core, *here*." A nav-beacon and route-tracer lit up
the
overlaid map, indicating where Arthur and Norra had to go.
Tish nodded as the trace-map floated into her view. ~Good, the
security measures have held, then~ she thought to herself. Surely, the
Rihannsu scientists were having bloody hell trying to figure out how
to
operate/extract the mysterious machinery, without activating the
Hellfire's self-destruct mechanism. Another Red Devision trick...
AMIE spoke up again, after taking another moment to access the computer
system again. "Captain Worthman and her party are being held in
Detention Block Five, cells eighteen through twenty. Conditions,
unknown," she said the last part with a slight frown crossing her
face.
Tish nodded as the schematic layout flashed onto her interface, and
another nav-beacon and route was overlaid. Turning back to the
'team':
"Good. Lovebirds: get our ship back. Cass, you're with me. We're
gonna
get the 'prisoners'. AMIE, enable your infiltration protocols, and
deactivate your holomatrix."
AMIE immediately embedded a copy of her core structure-arrays over the
Rihannsu computer's own intelligence routines. Given the access codes
that SFI had provided (thankfully, they worked), AMIE now had *almost*
complete control of the starbase's computer network. There was just
something....she placed a 'HOLD' tag to that *thought*, as she
deactivated her hologram.
The SubCommander's form shimmered then winked-out, leaving a small,
floating circular disk. T'Shani plucked it out of the air, and tucked
it into the inner breast pocket of her tac-suit.
"Watch your back, Cass," Blackwelder said, looking to the
marine NCO.
"Norra, you have point." He indicated a passage, headed off in
the
direction of what they were 86% sure was the main computer core and
access center.
Norra passed him, while swinging the Assault Rifle in front of her.
"Jahst dahn't be stahrin' at muh ahss, *Mistuh* Blahckweldah," she
chimed as she ducked into the corridor.
"What? I'd be remiss in my duties if I didn't watch your ass, *Miss*
Ridgeway," Blackwelder grinned, then jogged off after her.
The love-banter was making Tish sick. She turned to Cass, momentarily
catching him looking her over in her tactical suit. Smiling wryly,
antenna's curling, "Shall we, Mister Henderson?"
"Naturally," he said, as if challenging her. It was time to
prove that
Brenna Worthman was no traitor, that T'Shani was wrong about her, about
him, and about Red Division. This was what he'd been born to do.
Selecting the Enhanced Type II from his TEDD, he followed her down into
the hatch.
Before he could answer, she had disappeared down a floor hatch...
Typical. Cassius was step behind her, rifle in hand.
-----------------------
Detention Block Five...
-----------------------
Brenna Worthman completed her six-hundred-fifty-second workout routine.
The forty-seven year old SFI Captain had started doing them as soon as
she'd been placed in the holding cell. It served two functions. One,
to keep her from become complacent, weak, or bored, and two, to keep
track of time. By using her very careful timing of the routine's
length and the downtime's length, Brenna was able to determine that
she'd been in captivity for...something in the order of two and a half
weeks, give or take a few days due to torture, and being passed-out
afterwords.
So far, she hadn't broken. The information that she'd gleaned during
her time as SFI's Liaison to the new Romulan Naval Intelligence helped
her to resist the torture techniques of the Tal Shiar. She'd been
beat, brutalized, humiliated, and raped, but her will remained
strong.
She wasn't as sure about San'X Ateles'kes, who she hadn't heard or seen
for far too long, a week by her count. She was in the cell next to
her, and there was no way to peek in. Lemmes was still there,
unconscious at the moment, his rotund, piggish form slumped over in a
pile in the center of his cell.
The thing that bothered Brenna the most was that she still didn't have
a plan, and was in all likelihood in over her head. She'd known that
Commodore Illyanovitch was trying to get her killed or worse, but
there'd been very little she could do about it. So now she was here,
in a prison cell in Rihannsu territory, working with Red Division. None
of that suited her. For the thousandth time, she sat down on her bunk,
ran her hands through her long, curly brown hair, and tried to use what
she knew to plan.
Then she heard it. Some sort of sound, and she wasn't sure where it
was coming from. The brig was designed to bounce sound around so it
came from nowhere, it's weird angles serving a purpose other than to
be
unorthodox.
~What was that...?~
*****
"So, Cass," Tish wiggled her way in front of Henderson, as
he trailed
behind in the Jefferies Tube, or whatever the Romulan equivalent term
was for the access tunnels. With AMIE monitoring and masking the sensor
net, they could move through the tunnels freely.
"So, T'Shani," Cass replied, trying not to spend too much
time ogling
her ass. It was hard enough being on an operation without her
flaunting herself and distracting him. Calling on the discipline that
he'd learned as an independent agent, he willed himself to concentrate.
Tish couldn't help but chuckle at Henderson's tone of voice, as Cass
was no-doubt getting a fine view of her rear. "How far back do you
and Brenna go?"
"2373. She was the adviser assigned to me, Arthur Blackwelder,
Simone
Ovrali from Ciutric, Veloric from Vulcan, Sigmund Blackwelder from
Alpha Centauri, and Celias sh'Veltarran from Andor," he replied.
She
sure knew how to ask hard questions. He could remember each of them
with vivid detail. Too many ghosts in his past.
"Hmmm," she sighed as she stopped, checking her TEDD for further
directions.
"She was a good teacher, and better handler. When we graduated,
we
became her group, nominally assigned to a ship, not actually on it. A
lot of what we did during the Dominion War and after it is still
classified. Arthur and I are the only ones left."
As she continued moving along, "And are you *involved* with her,
Henderson?"
Cass laughed. "She's 7 years my senior. We were colleagues....
shared
a lot of the same ideals. But at the time I was involved, more or
less, with another woman, so it never really occured to me."
Her antenna bobbed back, as she noted the coolness to his voice.
Well then, at least it wouldn't cloud his judgment, when it
came time to act.
"How about you, T'Shani? How did you come to know all of these
people...Tanner Houghton, Al'indal Markay'di'n, Korman Blackar? You
seem very comfortable with them," Cassius asked, turning the
conversation away from himself. He had no desire to relive those
years.
Tish let out a low sigh, barely audible, as she watched the IM from
AMIE flash across her TEDD:
[AMIE: TEAM ONE, STAY PUT FOR NEXT TEN MINUTES, WHILE SECURITY SHIFTS
ROTATE. STANDBY FOR ALL-CLEAR. ACKNOWLEDGE.]
Both Cass and T'Shani 'blinked' their YES-NO indicators to acknowledge.
Propping her body against the tunnel's curved wall - slightly hunched
over - she looked at Cass. Strange how it was: at these *times*, she
didn't feel adversarial toward him. Just like when he had caught her
in
the holodeck, after the fight she had had with Rex.
"Cass...it's a long story," she said quietly, antennas dropping
ever so
slightly, while brushing an errant strand of her silvery-white hair
from her eyes.
"So tell me," he asked softly, squatting down, a comfortable
position
developed through years of work for SFI, "It sounds like we have
some
time to kill before we carry out our part of the mission."
She sighed again, leaning her back into the wall. "Very well, Cass.
Korman rescued me, after Seltax Seven fell, when I was ten. He was
the commander of the Marine party that searched for survivors along the
outskirts of Raath Ra'Chuul...that *was* the capitol."
"I remember reading about that when I was a plebe at SFA London," Cass
said, looking through his TEDD windows to monitor the progress of Art
and Norra as they talked. "So, he took you in?"
"Yes. I suppose you could say that he became my foster parent.
Until I
returned to Andoria - almost a year later - he took care of me,
protected me, taught me the honor and courage of being a marine..." she
trailed-off quietly, while listening as the booted footsteps of the
Rihannsu soldiers crossed on the overhead deck plating.
"That explains where you are now," he nodded understandingly. "It
must
have been only natural for you to follow his example." Young,
impressionable, aggressive, and with a tragic hatred of the Rihannsu.
She had been the perfect candidate for Red Division. Cassius could
only wonder if Blackar had been saving her or recruiting her that day
on
Seltax Seven.
"Yes, I suppose. That's why I enrolled at the combat schools," she
said
slowly, head-bowed at the memory of Korman. "I wanted to *be* what
he
is...*was*," she corrected herself, while holding back the emotions
that laced her voice.
Cassius just nodded. Whatever the reasons of Korman Blackar, the end
result would have been the same. T'Shani had developed a deep
attachment to the Caitan marine, and now he was dead. Dead at the
hands of the hated Rihannsu... *greenbloods* as the Andorian referred
to them.
She waved his concerns away, while noticing AMIE flashing the
'ALL-CLEAR' over the IM screen. As she began moving forward again, she
continued. "I kept in touch with Korman, over the years. Then, when
the
ADL had stumbled upon the Tholian's plot to retrieve the Deep Shadow
crystal - during the battle of Hel'mis' Retreat - his Red Devision
platoon, the 'Red Dogs', and my ADL command-section were tasked with
'retrieving' it before the <f'theking> *crystals* got their spiny
tails
on it," she said, bitterly.
"But you did get it, of course," he said. He frowned. Dimension
traveling technology. It had been the same switching through
dimensions that had brought the old Constitution-Class USS Defiant
through the hell-plane, and granted it the disturbed sentience that his
predecessor had left notes on.
"Well, obviously, Cass. Though, it took alot of work. And alot
of
lives," she quieted at the memory of those lost...Sanchez, Koonan,
Met'tari...
"The important missions usually do," he replied, following
close behind
her. He'd lost quite a few in his own time. Ovrali, Browning, and of
course Celias sh'Veltarran. He still had their images scattered around
his quarters, reminding him of his past, and also reminding him to mind
his 'Ps-and-Qs', and to not make the same mistakes that had cost each
of them their lives.
They came to a juncture, marked on their TEDDs as a a critical
junction,
right above the detention cells. Quickly, she motioned for Cass to
insert his spy-bugs into the ventilation system. Self-propelled with
their own anti-gravs, yet almost microscopic in size, they could
scout the area ahead, with minimal risk of detection.
Cassius nodded and retrieved the bugs from his TEDD, a canister the
size of a standard pop can. Placing it, he pressed the release button
and sent roughly half the bugs scurrying into the ventilation shaft.
He flashed her a quick affirmative hand gesture, informing her that
he'd
planted the micro-spys.
As the micro-bugs transversed the ducting, Tish continued. She didn't
know why, but for some reason, she didn't mind confiding in Cassius.
Even if he *was* such a 'goody-two-shoes'.
"Tanner 'recruited' me into Red Division, after the Chryonix Five
incident. I became his assistant, and have been on inactive-duty with
Second Division, ever since." She let out a tired sigh, "I
just didn't
figure I'd be recalled, so early..." she trailed-off.
"Neither did I," he admitted. Though after Dalson Center,
he'd thought
that he'd *never* be recalled. "But that still doesn't explain why
you're flying fighters off the Galaxy." The bugs traveled down the
ventilation shaft and into the brig. On the monitor built into the
TEDD, Cassius watched as they moved from the brig guard office back
into the detention block, confirming the number of Tal Shiar guards at
five.
Tish answered softly, as the picture from the bugs came into view.
"Thank Al'indal for *that*, Cass," she replied, wryly. "It
wasn't
my..." she trailed off as she saw *them*...The Deltan female - San'X
-
wasn't moving, at all. The Tellarite seemed knocked-out. And the human
- Worthman - ~traitor~ was doing sit-ups...
Cassius watched as T'Shani viewed the detention block footage, noticing
her expression sour slightly when bugs came to Worthman. Good old
Brenna, still doing her workouts. He wondered what T'Shani would say
if she knew that as much as she thought Worthman a traitor, he
considered Blackar in the same light. Looking back over to her, he
mouthed, "Stun-grenade, wide arc, down the ventilation shaft." That
would dump it out on top of the surprised guards.
Tish nodded, while selecting a grenade from her arsenal. Setting
it's controls to 'WIDE', she looked over to Cass, pulled the pin, and
mouthed 'one...two...three!'...
------------
Meanwhile...
------------
"Muh-my, yah gettin' a li'l close there, Ahthu'," Norra cooed
sweetly
as
his hand errantly caressed the top of her buttocks. Granted, being
squeezed into a service-junction built for only *one* to occupy called
for close quarters, but not *that* close. Though, Norra didn't
mind...*too* much.
Art chuckled. Quite the predicament. "Sorry, Norra. It slipped.
It's got a mind of it's own when it comes to women. I just can't do a
thing with it." He returned to patching his PADD into the the Rihannsu
technology, which was incompatible at best, dangerous at worst.
She sighed, while surveying the current situation, again. They had both
ducked into here, after an armed guard had entered the computer control
room. And he hadn't left yet, either.
So instead, Blackwelder was trying to access the Rihannsu starbase's
network via a secure terminal interface, with the help of AMIE and his
PADD. To do so involved reaching *around* Norra's waist, as they faced
each other. It was awkward, at best, but neither could move into a more
suitable position in the cramped space.
She sighed, again, feeling his hot breath on her neck, as he peered
over her shoulder past her honey-blonde hair, accessing the control
panel near her waist.
"If I can make this connection, we'll be through," he said,
acutely
aware of how close together they were. Norra Ridgeway was definitely
*something*, and the first thought that came to Art's mind was 'all
woman'.
"Well, jus' dahn't get so *excited*, Mistuh'," she said, indicating
toward their hips, which were both pressed close together in the close
confines.
He pressed tighter against her and continued working as she giggled
girlishly. It was amazing what happened to some women when they were
exposed to a *real* man. "There, we're in. I'm searching for the
best
route to the Hellfire..."
A few minutes passed as they stood there, locked in an embrace.
Finally, Art reported, "I have it. I'm going to try to open the
secure
access hatch behind you. Hold still."
She suppressed a giggle as he knelt down, in front of her at
hip-height. She couldn't resist teasing him, "My, good sir. Dahn't
get
to close to my 'personahls'."
He grinned, slapping his codebreaker onto the door, working it, and
popping the hatch. "Now spread your legs."
She choked for a second...
"What did you jus' say, Mistuh?"
"Ah *sayed*: spread yah laygs," he said, mimicking her accent, "I
need
you to spread your stance so that I can crawl through, out the hatch.
Then you can duck down and follow me." he explained, placing his
hands
on her thighs and lightly applying pressure to indicate how far.
She felt an unexpected, yet pleasant, tingle as Art pushed on her
inner-thighs with his hands. ~Oh....C'mon girl! Get your mind out of
the gutter!~ she chided, while acquiescing to Art's *request*.
He laughed. "Take a woman on a secret mission and all of a sudden
she's
pressing against you in a service junction and spreading her legs.
Must be 'spy appeal'." Reaching up, he made sure to brush his hand
on
her rear as he steadied himself on the hatchframe, peaking out. Once
he was sure the coast was clear, he crawled out into the access tunnel.
Norra only rolled her eyes (though his hand *did* feel nice on her
butt), while quickly swinging herself around, down, and behind Art,
into the access tunnel.
"Ah jus' hope ya know where we're goin', hun," she smiled
as she got a
good view of his cute butt. ~At least he knows how to work out...~ she
sighed to herself, as they made their way to the Hellfire...
***TBC***
off: Well, it had to happen sometime....the Victor and Samantha post
:)
"Days of Our Lives"
Primary Characters:
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Samantha Widdlestein, romance novelist and ship pest
*****
USS Galaxy
Secondary Hull
Deck 11
Main Biology Labs
Samantha Widdlestein crept quietly in the biology labs. True, she wasn't
supposed to be in here, especially during her lunch hour, unattended
but she
needed some description for her heroine's lab.
"Cold and uncluttered." Samantha muttered into her old fashioned
tape
recorder. "The perfect match for her frosty and unyielding heart.
Ooh, I
like that."
"This area is off-limits to non-Fleet personnel," Victor said
quietly from
the doorway behind her. He'd considered a different approach after the
unauthorized access signal from the lab's monitors, but discarded it
when
he'd realized that the intruder was a child with a string of unauthorized
entries longer than she was tall in her file. He'd never met her, but
every
Security personnel on the ship knew her on sight - Commander Corgan had
made
certain about that.
Sam, not unlike most of the USS Galaxy's crew, turned, took one look
at
Victor, and screamed bloody murder.
Expecting the reaction, Victor avoided wincing, although he did spend
a
second wondering if the LCARS panel nearest Samantha was shivering prior
to
cracking from the shrill tone.
She stopped abruptly and looked at him with wide eyes. "You're...you're..."
Victor debated closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the change
in the
girl's expression, the same way he'd seen so many other children's faces
change. In the end, though, he chose to face it as he had all the times
before. It wasn't as if it would hurt more than the first time had...
or any
of the others, since then.
"You're perfect!"
Victor blinked. That was most definitely *not* the response he was waiting
on.
"Oh, wow! You're just the person I've been looking for my project.
You look
exactly like my main character Giovanni Savage. Well, maybe a little
more,
er, intense but still, wow!" Samantha gushed.
"Excuse me?" he asked quietly, still somewhat confused that
she was not
using one of the more normal phrases like 'Monster,' 'Bad Man,' or the
apparently always popular "Ahhhhhh!'
"Can you scuba dive?" Samantha asked. "Giovanni can scuba
dive but I'm
beginning to think that's not the right direction to take for him. What
do
*you* like to do in your spare time? I'm betting that you're a Paresisi
Squares player, right? I thought about making Giovanni a universally
known
Paresisi Squares player but I don't know, it seemed a bit much."
Without thinking, Victor answered, "I hunt," and then frowned. "Miss
Widdlestein, I have to ask you to leave - this area is off-limits."
"Hunting. Hmmmm..." Sam mused. "That could work. Savage
could be some big
game expert. Oooh, shark expert. What were you saying? Oh, I just had
to
come in here for some research. They never let us in here except on field
trips and those are so *juvenille.* I'm not a two year old, for Kahless
sake. I need hard data for my book. Which reminds me, do you have a
girlfriend?"
Victor frowned, trying to decide at what point the child in front of
him had
taken over the conversation - and why. "Have you finished your research?"
Whatever it was that she was doing, the sooner it was done, the sooner
he
could get her out of here without one of the scenes she was famous for.
"Well, not really." Sam said. "I still need to catalog
th equipment and
computer programs the biologists use. And get a feal for the atmosphere.
And
I asked you a question."
"I know," he replied to her question without losing his frown. "I
just
didn't answer you."
"Dark and mysterious." Sam said into her recorder. "Frown
that would have
frozen hell over. Well, spit it out Big Guy. I won't make her the villain
if
that's what you're worried about. But she can't be the heroine. Arel's
already too perfect for that. Maybe the best friend? Is she a sidekick
like?
Bookish and shy?"
What was this child talking about? "No."
"What's her name? I may be able to incorporate it into the book."
"No girlfriend." Grey was a friend, but not the kind Widdlestein
meant. No
one was.
"Hmmmm..." Sam thought out loud. "Well, we can't have
that. Only the
heroines are supposed to be untouched and pure. Ooh, I'll bet some girl
broke your heart and now you feel you can never love again. That would
be
*perfect* for the story! Ex runs off with Savage's playboy scuba diving
brother. Now he sails the sea in agony because he will forever be alone.
This is good stuff. What did you say your name was again?"
Victor stared at the child, trying to figure out what on earth she was
talking about. Maybe the screams were preferable to this - at least he
understood them. "I didn't."
"Well," Sam said with the tone of "I'm waiting."
"Krieghoff. Victor Krieghoff."
"Like Bond, James Bond?" Sam said. "No, that won't work.
Maybe Victor
Savage? I always thought Giovanni was a bit much anyway."
"You need to leave the laboratory," Victor repeated, retreating
back to
something he at least understood.
"Alright, Victor," Sam complied. He still was a bit creepy
even if he fitted
her hero perfectly. "Do you think I might be able to interview you
later for
a more in-depth background?"
"That depends."
"On?"
"On whether or not you leave with me now." Bargaining with
a child was a
tactic he remembered from the psych class he'd had at the Academy - he'd
made poor marks in it, but that was more because no one could be near
enough
to talk to him than because he'd not understood what to do.
"Sure, we can go." Samantha said grandly, almost as if it
was her idea. "So,
tell me more about Security. Arel's in Security too but she never talks
about it much."
"I'm not the person you should ask." This was familiar ground
at least.
"Why not?" Sam pressed. "You're in Security, aren't you?"
"Because I'm not like the rest of them."
Out came the recorder again. "Deeply rooted isolation." Sam
said into it.
"Childhood trauma perhaps or maybe deep fear of rejection."
Victor frowned. "No."
"No what?"
"No, that isn't what I'm afraid of."
"Of course not." Samantha replied soothingly, her tone implying
that she
didn't believe him for one moment. "I'm just saying possibilities
for
Savage." She paused and the continued into the tape recorder "Relies
heavily
on denial."
Victor's frown deepened. "Where are you supposed to be now? School?"
"Advanced Calculas but I already know it all."
"You should go, even if you already know everything."
"Why?"
"Because people don't scream when you're near them," he answered,
as if that
made perfect sense.
"I wish they would." Sam said sulkily. "No one takes
me seriously, not even
when I pull out these." She whipped out one of her Hirogen stilletos. "Arel
says its cause I don't use them right."
Victor frowned down at her. "No, you don't," he said with
conviction. "And
she's correct."
"You're just as humorless as she is." Sam grumbled. "Well,
show me how
then."
He looked at her penetratingly for a moment, and then said, "You
don't want
people to scream when you're near them, what you want is for them to
treat
you like an adult. And you're not using them correctly because waving
a
weapon around like that makes you look like an idiot. Either use it or
put it away."
Samantha looked at him darkly. "It's a memento. I saved Arel's
life when the
Hirogen caught us and let us loose on that smegging planet. And I'm telling
the truth before you ask."
"I know." Victor replied, having apparently dismissed the
stiletto as
inconsequential.
"How's that?"
"I read your file."
Sam brightened. She'd always wanted to get into her file. "What's
it say?"
Victor doubted she wanted - or needed - to hear the material added to
the
file by previous Security officers that had been forced to deal with
her.
"You're smart. You're bored. You're trying to get someone to treat
you like
an adult."
"Does it really say that?"
"Yes. It also says that if you're not out of the Biology labs in
thirty
seconds I get to take your stilettos away."
Samantha grinned. "I like you, Victor. Even if you're kinda spooky.
You
should really work on that."
Victor frowned and pointed towards the door.
"All right, all right, I'm going!"
He followed her outside and stood, waiting, until she moved a little
way
down the corridor. "Stop trying so hard," he said suddenly,
still with a
frown, "You'll be an adult soon enough."
"Yeah, yeah." Samantha grumbled.
"Relationship Woes"
Colby Elliott
Ella Grey
*****
Colby looked with over to the woman standing in his room with a muddled
mix
of defeat and annoyance.
“I mean what the hell is wrong with you?” She shouted, her
hands on her hips
as she paced around Colby’s quarters. Her lips were twisted down
in a look
of total disgust.
She was clearly angry, Colby got that without needing a dictionary.
Despite
the fact that she thought he was an idiot he wasn’t that slow.
Colby wasn’t
happy to see her go but he was relieved.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” She asked, her
tone raising a little.
Colby just shrugged, taking his black baseball cap from the nightstand
and
putting it on.
She let out a little shrieking scream and stomped her feet, “This
is how it
is with you,” she shouted, “If you cared about anything you
wouldn’t,” she
broke off, “You are a slob Colby, a dirty slob."
Colby gave a little admitting smirk and nodded but said nothing.
The woman in the room shook her head as she gathered the rest of her
things
from Colby’s floor and stuffed them into her bag then moved for
the door.
She turned back, “And how hard is it to put the seat down on the
toilet
after you use it?”
Elliot’s eyebrows raised and he shrugged, “Um, I guess as
hard as it is for
you to put it down before you use it?” he offered then broke out
into
laughter. He watched her leave still laughing but when the
door shut he stopped laughing and sighed looking at the floor. He liked
her
even though she had the habit of nagging him about everything and being
too
positive. He was, still, both sad and relieved to see her go. “I
need a
drink,” Colby said to the empty room, with her gone and all her
stuff gone
it was a really empty room. He pushed himself up from the bed and headed
for the door, as the door wooshed open he looked back into the room,
shaking
his headas he regarded everything he saw and everything she had said.
****
Ella was on a mission.
Dressed in a very obvious blue dress (short, sparkly, and just a tad
on the
slutty side), she had decided that she would forget about her problems
in a
familiar way.
But it wasn't working.
Oh, it wasn't that the dress wasn't having its appeal, she'd had a number
of
offers so far this evening, its just that every offer made her stomach
lurch
and her heart cry out one very special, if not utterly annoying name.
Ella wondered when she had lost her edge and her brain had switched
on to
stupid.
Slinking up to the bar, she ordered a refill on her drink and then sat
down
in defeat.
Colby stepped into the bar on the Galaxy and looked around with a careful
gaze. He was watchful, like a hunter looking for prey only instead of
looking for something he was looking for the lack of something. After
his
look over the room he found that the room did indeed lack the someone
who
had stormed out of his room. He doubted that she would have been down
here
but it never hurt to check did it.
“Fuck no,” he said to himself as he stepped from the doorway
and into the
lounge area. It did not hurt to be careful, the last thing he wanted
was to
bump into her here and get yelled at again.
Colby smiled as he looked around and toward the bar. Things like that
were
why he would always believe in the beauty of luck. He straightened his
shirt slightly and re-adjusted his cap as he walked
up to the bar, stopping and looking over the engineer, “Where do
you keep
your PADD in that?” he asked with a smile, wondering if she would
remember
him from their last conversation.
Ella grinned at Colby and then opened up her purse to grab her computer
PADD. *I HADN'T REALLY EXPECTED TO BE TALKING ANYONE, IF YOU GET MY MEANING.
THINK ITS TOO MUCH?*
“Yes,” Colby said with an adamant little nod, “Too
much, talk it all off,”
he looked around, “Though maybe not here.”
*HOW ARE YOU THIS EVENING?*
Colby shrugged, “I’m alright aside from the usual crap that
seems to spring
up. How about you? I’m not interrupting any occasion am I?” he
asked
looking to her dress again.
*NO* She typed with a smile. *THIS IS ME TRYING TO BOOST MY EGO A BIT.*
Ella
stretched out her leg, admiring the strappy shoes. Her dress hiked up
a bit
more. *I THINK I SHOULD HAVE BOUGHT THE BLUE ONES.*
Colby looked at the shoes then followed the soft line of her leg up
to where
it disappeared beneath the dress she wore. Fidelity was one of Colby’s
few
virtues and had the night not begun the way it had he would not have
allowed
himself such a long gaze at the engineer’s legs, but it had so
he had.
Shrugging Colby interjected, “I’m a guy, I have two pairs
of shoes, so…” he
trailed off then shrugged again, “I’m certainly not the right
person to ask
about shoes.”
She smiled again.*SO TELL ME ABOUT YOUR TROUBLES AND I'LL BORE YOU WITH
MINE*
“My girlfriend left me,” Colby said as he took a long swig
from the bottle
the barkeep had brought him. He rolled his eyes then looked back to Ella,
“That happens to me a lot.”
*ANY PARTICULAR REASON?*
“I’m lazy, I have annoying habits, I don’t work hard
enough if I did she
thinks I’d be first officer,” he shook his head and muttered, "Clearly
she’s
nuts.” Then he added, “Oh, and I leave the seat up.”
*SHAME ON YOU :) I HAVEN'T BEEN IN A NORMAL RELATIONSHIP IN A LONG TIME.*
Ella mused. *I DONT REALLY THINK IM CUT OUT FOR ONE THOUGH.*
“Yeah, my relationships never last.” He looked off into
the distance as if
searching for something then found it, remembering their previous
conversation, “What about that guy?” Colby knew she had said,
typed, more
but all he could remember about him now was that he was that guy.
Ella did her best not to scowl. *WHY DO YOU THINK I'M DRESSED LIKE THIS?
I'M
GOING TO GET OVER HIM IF IT KILLS ME.*
Colby gave Ella’s dress another glance, “In that I’m
sure a lot of people
will be happy to get you over anything and everything.” He smiled, “Guys
are
always happy to help.”
She laughed. *I LIKE YOU COLBY. YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS NUTS TO DITCH YOU
OVER A
TOILET.*
“Maybe some people just aren’t cut out for real relationships,” he
said with
an oddly distant note in his voice, the note was his memory of his longest
relationship, that had been the one to break the two month marker. He
moved
out of his thought and back into the situation, he looked at Ella and
smiled, “Thanks, I always thought the toilet argument was retarded.” Colby
closed his eyes, shit, he shouldn’t have said that, you never knew
who got
offended when you say retarded because they had some dumbstruck cousin
or
brother or something. Fuck it, Colby thought to himself, to late to not
say
it.
Ella looked amused if anything. *IT'S ANNOYING TO FIND YOURSELF FALLING
INTO
THE TOILET AT TWO IN THE MORNING SINCE SOMEONE LEFT THE SEAT UP BUT I
WOULDNT LEAVE SOMEONE OVER IT.*
Elliot laughed, the fact that a drowsy person falling ass first into
a cold
bowl of toilet water was funny to him was probably not a good thing but
that
didn’t stop him from finding it funny as hell.
*GIVE HER A FEW DAYS TO THINK ABOUT IT. SHE'LL PROBABLY COME BACK TO
HER
SENSES.*
Colby sighed and shook his head, “I hope not,” he said honestly. “I
got the
feeling she didn’t want to be alone, if she didn’t mind it
our,
‘relationship’ would have ended the morning after.” He
rolled
his eyes and gave an odd note to the word relationship. “You know,
the I
don’t like coming home to an empty apartment so I’ll mold
this guy into my
dream husband.” Colby set down his drink then laughed, “Or
maybe I’ll bump
into her again and we’ll get married and have a bunch of kids.”
Ella never molded her conquests, she just used. But it wasn't like they
didn't use right back, she figured. He probably would run into the woman
again and get married with 2.5 kids.
“Maybe yours will come to his senses,” Colby offered.
Ella snorted and then took another sip of her drink. Then she looked
at him.
Well, no use in being shy about it. *DO YOU WANT COMPANY TONIGHT, COLBY?*
Colby smiled, “Couldn’t say no even if you weren’t
in that dress.”
(OOC: I assume this is a bit of a backpost, taking place a couple days
after the Galaxy docks at Starbase 212. Part 2 to come later this afternoon.)
"Transition, Part 1: Getting There"
by
Ensign Tarin Iniara
Operations Officer,
USS Galaxy
and a nameless crewman
Location: endless hallways of Starbase 212 and the USS Galaxy
The last few days had been decently interesting. For someone whose daily
life consisted of making sure Intergalactic Service Station and 24-Hour
Roadside Café Number 23 ran smoothly all day, every day, it didn't
take much.
After packing up her few possessions, meeting with her department head
one last time and then arranging passage aboard the first available ship
she could find, Ensign Tarin had once more found herself shooting through
the blackness of space toward her new home. Well, in that general direction
at least. But first, a few delays were in order: a quick stop at another
Intergalactic Service Station, then a short ride with the oh so interesting
denizens of a Nameless Eighteen Wheeled Freighter Without the Wheels
(it had a name, it just wasn't all that memorable), another hop here,
a slide to there, and finally onto the inevitable runabout, the Volkswagen
Beetle of the skies.
Several ships and a couple days later, she had finally arrived at Starbase
212, where the Galaxy was docked for the time being. So it hadn't been
the quickest trip ever, but it hadn't been boring. She checked the first
terminal she came to, using it to locate the position of the Galaxy and
the easiest way to get there from her current location. Once she had
the required information she headed off, barely pausing to take a breath
or examine her surroundings.
After only a couple wrong turns, Iniara finally found herself in the
corridor she had been trying to locate. ~Okay, turn left here, then another
left, then straight down...right.~ Quickening her pace a bit, she popped
out of the bland, beige-and-blue hallway into a somewhat larger, though
no less bland, atrium of sorts.
Only two features marked this almost-room: the airlock door, and the
small desk situated exactly opposite it. Iniara turned toward the desk
and the young crewman sitting behind it. "Ensign Tarin Iniara," she
began as she stepped up to the desk, "reporting for duty aboard
the USS Galaxy NCC-70637-A."
"One moment please." The crewman turned his attention from
her to his console, tapping a few buttons. A few seconds later it displayed
the information he needed. He scanned the screen, one hand reaching down
to pull open a desk drawer stacked with PADDs. He looked down, selected
the one he needed, and pushed the drawer shut.
Standing, he handed the PADD to Iniara. "You're all set, ma'am," he
said before coming around the side of the desk. Iniara followed him the
few feet across the room and waited as he punched in the access code
for the airlock door.
Almost instantaneously the doors began to slide open. "Welcome
to the Galaxy, ma'am."
Iniara nodded to the crewman before proceeding through the airlock,
the second set of doors automatically opening as she approached. She
unconsciously tugged on the strap across her chest as she stepped through
the doors, hitching her single bag up a little on her back. ~Well, here
goes nothing.~
For all the mental building-up she had done within the past few days
(especially in the past few seconds), stepping onto the Galaxy seemed
almost like a let-down. Sure, it was her new assignment, her new home,
the ship that would take her on wild adventures and maybe even get her
moving back up the totem pole of promotion. But right now, where she
stood looked like any other Starfleet-run piece of hallway she had ever
been in: beige on top, blue on bottom, reassuringly bland.
Sighing just a little, Iniara turned her attention to the PADD she had
recently been handed. Activating its screen, she flipped through the
information it contained. Location of her quarters, the Ops office, meeting
scheduled with the Chief of Ops, temporary duty schedule, and a couple
other useful bits of information. She scanned the information, noting
that she had nothing on her plate until tomorrow.
~Nothing to do for the rest of today, I see. No time like the present
to learn my way around the ship, then.~ And with that resolution in mind,
Iniara used the PADD to call up the location of her quarters, figuring
that would be the best place to start.
"Permission Granted" Part 1 of 2
(Takes place immediately after 'No One Has Permission To Die')
Principal Characters:
Lt. (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Lt. (JG) Ahdjiia D'Tinya-Bolivar
Ensign Cora Dobryin
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Secondary Characters:
Ensign Paul Hanley
Ensign So'ka
Zan Lanaka
****
Gryphon Colony
Asteroid
Moving to Diplomatic Reception Area
Victor hated patrolling en mass.
It was like asking for the enemy to attack. All those targets lined
up
like that, most of them poorly-trained in even the simplest woodcraft,
sounding more like a herd of Terran water buffalo on a wooden floor than
someone trying to be quiet and approach a potential enemy. He would have
rather come alone, just himself and the terrorists out there. That would
have at least made it more of a challenge, would have allowed him to
do
what he was good at in the manner that suited him best.
But instead he was here, with over a dozen others on the ground and
two
in the sky, their wings beating in rhythm as they spiraled out from the
main body in search of potential hostiles and injured needing
assistance. His pulse pounded inside his head with the need to get away,
to leave these sheep behind and do what he was born to do, to be what
he
was meant to be - to find those that had killed in his territory, taken
lives that were his, and kill them in return.
His frown long since descended into a scowl, he fought with himself,
fought the need to just step to the side and vanish into the rubble and
buildings that comprised the inner surface of the asteroid colony and
become the hunter he was. He fought, but it was a losing battle and he
knew it. Sooner or later, no matter what he wanted, the hunter would
win
and he would leave. Sooner or later....
Cora was running on adrenaline. Search and rescue duty with active
terrorists still around wasn't exactly relaxing. To top it all off she
had to admit the same thing applied to being around Krieghoff. As such
her attention remained focused on finding answers. While she wouldn't
feel at ease until they were safely aboard the Galaxy, Dobryin also knew
that distinct feeling of failure if they didn't find those responsible.
Cutter watched Zan fly some distance away. She was responsible, very
together, much more than Arkedi probably would be, but she was still
Fruna'lin. She wasn't used to this, nothing like this happened in
recent history in their home system. And, of course, she didn't have
any military training like Cutter had; she didn't have a preprogrammed
behavior mode to switch to in a crisis situation. She was holding up
really well, however, amazingly well, but Zan was always one of the
strongest people he had known.
He glanced back down, first locating the away team he was following,
then surveying the area around them. About fifty yards away, he noticed
a tall man waving in the dark, surrounded by seven or eight others, it
was hard to see. Cutter flew down and stopped his momentum, floating
above them.
"Hey, you're on the Galaxy, right? Was that a shuttle I saw earlier?"
he asked. He was holding onto a handrail with his foot to keep himself
from floating away from the walkway.
"Yes, they landed in a park, in that direction," Cutter pointed, "about
a quarter kilometer. You'll be able to see it once you get closer, it's
obstructed by that building, but you can see the glow of the lights
they've erected."
"Great," the man smiled. He pulled himself back down and spoke
softly
to his group. Cutter couldn't hear what he was saying, but he noticed
one of them was holding their eye, another gripping his forearm against
his chest. The other seemed to be helping.
"You should only take in the injured and report in yourself and,
of
course, any other ship personnel with you. The rest, the uninjured
should move away and find shelter elsewhere, prevent crowding."
"Got it, thanks." Cutter flew off as the group moved away.
Victor was
moving the team fast; they were almost out of sight in the still dark
asteroid.
****
Gryphon Colony
Asteroid
Moving to the Diplomatic Reception Area
Five Minutes Later
Victor continued his fast pace at the head of the column, reaching a
vertical turn in the path. Without warning, he jumped up as his foot
bounced off the metal grating rather than landing and staying like it
was supposed to. His right hand whipped out to grab hold of the railing
as his feet started to shoot out parallel to the ground and turned back
to the following away team. "Gravity's out. Pull yourself along
the
railing; watch out for it to kick back on. Watch for an ambush."
Ahdjiia had been moving as silently as one of her Little Ones as she
made her way with the group, eyes watching and wary. She nodded when
Krieghoff gave his warning about the gravity, and she was grateful for
having excelled at her zero G classes back at the Academy.
As she continued on, she could feel the eddies of the gravity
fluctuations. They made it a bit of a slower go, but after the first
few, the rest were easier to adjust to in her opinion.
Hating the delay, Victor had the next man in line pass him a small piece
of rubble, and, after he'd hooked one leg on the rail, threw it sidearm
in their direction of travel, watching to see where the gravity came
back on. The rock flew straight for six meters, and then abruptly dipped
as it passed into a gravity-positive area. "Six meters of null-g,
people," he reported. "One man at a time in the zone, the rest
watch for
an ambush."
He waited until everyone had the message, then tapped his combadge and
repeated the warning to the Lieutenant and his companion as they circled
overhead.
There was a pause over the channel before Lieutenant Kara'nin responded,
"Um, all right, but you don't have to worry about us. We're already
floating; it's easy for us to adjust." He sounded much more comfortable
over the comm, Victor noticed, than when they were physically talking.
Ahdjiia took note of how the rock had traveled, and she propelled
herself with a good hop to make it through the gravity void. While her
hop didn't provide enough momentum for her to come through solidly on
the gravity end, it did allow her to progress slowly enough to react
if
something happened suddenly. With a bit of twisting, she was able to
get a leg over on the gravity side to make things easier for her to
'land' without injuring herself.
Ahead, something was moving. Something trying not to be heard. Victor
smiled as he waved the column down and slipped ahead. Something that
didn't want to be heard meant something that might be dangerous, and
the
pounding in his head drove him to find out if that were true - and show
them that no matter what they thought, there was nothing more dangerous
here than he, himself, was.
A few steps took him out of sight of the column, around a mostly intact
group of shops and stores, some with still-intact glass in their windows
and silently back around behind the source of the sound he'd heard. He
slowed his approach, ghosted around a planter that had lost it's
contents when the gravity fluxed, and took a careful look.
Civilians. Not civilians with guns, or even looters, but civilians of
the worst type: women and children, four of the first and almost a dozen
of the second. They were scared, huddled behind some ruined stands for
some kind of ethnic human fried food. As he watched, a child, older than
the others - making her about twelve Victor supposed - slipped back up
and whispered to a thirtyish woman with Terran Asian ancestry, "Mrs.
Wanatabe, I can't see anyone now, but I'm sure there was someone there
with a gun."
There was nothing for it, despite the pounding in his head. He couldn't
leave these people here, fair game for the lesser predators that were
running amok. Victor dropped the muzzle of his rifle and stepped out.
"There was."
Several of the children and at least one of the women screamed, and
Victor frowned despite knowing that it wouldn't help the moment. "Stop
screaming or someone will hear you," he ordered.
That had the expected result of making two more children shriek and
start to cry, and the Asian woman - Mrs. Wanatabe - place herself
between the others and Victor. ""W-what do you..."
"I want them to stop screaming," he repeated quietly. "Before
someone
that will start shooting at you and my men hears them."
"You... you're not... your men?" She looked closer. "Oh.
You're
Starfleet... You're here to...."
"There's an evacuation and aid station in the Memorial Park," Victor
replied as the other women started to calm the children. "I'll send
some
men back with you to make certain you get there."
The woman relaxed as Victor summoned the rest of the column forward,
warning them there were survivors to evacuate. "I... I'm sorry the
children screamed," she apologized nervously. "They're just
so scared,
and..."
"Good," Victor interrupted her. "They should be. If they're
scared,
they're alive. Keep them that way." He turned to the side as the
column
approached, the frightened children eyeing the men and women nervously,
until one spotted Zan in the air and pointed, distracting all of them
as
they watched the Fruna'lin pair fly overhead. "D'Tinya," he
said, still
frowning, once she'd approached. "They have to go back. Detail two
men
to..."
The first incoming round sparked off one of the carts. The next three
struck the road next to them. The fifth clipped a lock from Mrs.
Wanatabe's hair, sending it skipping up to fall and separate into a
cloud of separate falling strands. Before the sixth struck, Victor
snapped out "Incoming!" and reached out to drag the Asian woman
to
cover.
****
Gryphon Colony
Asteroid
Twenty meters above the ambush
"What was that?" Zan asked as she flew up beside Cutter.
"Shots." On the ground, at least, the two of them were concealed
by the
darkness a good fifty or sixty feet above the away team. No telling how
long that would last with his reflective white wings. He wished
momentarily that he had inherited all of his mother's blue, rather than
just on the wing tips. He scanned the ground and walkways below and to
his right, searching for the source of the shooting with his avian eyes.
"Victor," he said, tapping his combadge, "I see two men
on a walkway
extending out of the third floor of the building near you. You should
be
able to spot the blue glow of their sensor scopes, and maybe one or two
down on--"
"AAHH! Ka ist thekh!"
"Zan?" Cutter asked at her cry. She had coiled up her wings,
the
movement sent her higher but she was remaining airborne only through
the
zero gravity; she was clutching one of them.
"They shot me! Thekhikal chanit!" she cursed. Cutter heard
one more
whistle by his ear, causing him to reflexively spin in the air. He
heard Zan curse once more then fly off.
"Zan? Where are you going?"
****
Gryphon Colony Asteroid
Ambush Site
Ahdjiia kept the civilians covered once the firing started, and motioned
to them carefully to follow her. She did keep an eye out for where the
shots were coming from, as well as where the other crewmen were and
began to formulate a way to get the civilians out so the Security team
wouldn't have them to worry about in addition to themselves.
Across from D'Tinya, Victor snarled as he pushed the women he'd pulled
from the line of fire into the cover provided by the planter. He'd known
this was coming, felt it, and now it was here - and he couldn't do what
he needed to in order to stop it. He couldn't move out and kill the
people shooting because he had to protect the civilians and his people.
The pounding in his head grew louder and his snarl more feral as he
searched the area for a target besides the ones the Lieutenant and his
woman were diving on, attacking like striking birds of prey.
Someone managed to plant a small concussion grenade far too close to
Cora's current location for comfort. No one else could actually see it
but the Intelligence officer. Their options were severely limited and
there was only one right thing she could do to save innocent lives.
Ensign Dobryin put herself between the low wall which was the only thing
standing between some innocent children and that grenade. "We have
to
get out of here now..." unsure if her warning could be heard over
the
chaos or not. Cora only hoped someone had heard.
****
Gryphon Colony Asteroid
Twenty meters above the ambush
"Kyle, look out!" one of the men on the third story walkway
shouted. He
ducked the speeding green object careening towards them but his friend
was not so quick. He heard the loud knock of his jaw smashing shut,
teeth slamming into one another as the figure struck. The man, Kyle,
was knocked backwards by the blow, tumbling over the railing and fell
three stories in one of the few working gravity wells. The other one
spun in his crouched position and fired his weapon wildly into the air.
After a moment, he paused and searched through the darkness with his
sensor scope. It was one the birds that attacked them, he realized.
Where was the other?
"Ka!" Cutter swore as he heard another bullet whiz by over
head. He
pushed downwards, bringing himself below the walkway. What was Zan
doing? She could have gotten herself killed, but worse, she might have
killed that man who fell. Another shot rang off the metal walkway, a
shot from below. The man above rolled and started to run, Cutter
followed. He caught up quickly; moving must faster through the air than
the man could on the ground, and tackled the man. He fell, his gun
bouncing on the ground out of his reach. The man tried to push himself
up, Cutter was light, only a hundred pounds, he could easily be thrown
off, so he grabbed the attacker's hair and shoved his hand down, forcing
the head into the metal grating.
The man screamed, but was still struggling, so Cutter slammed his other
arm into the back of the man's neck, pinning it to the ground. But it
wasn't enough, Cutter was pushed off and he fell backwards. The
attacker stumbled to his feet and reached for his gun, but he was
knocked again. Zan! She was attacking again, swooping by the catwalk
thwacking the man with her shoulder. He toppled over the edge like his
friend earlier, but he was able to grab on.
"Help!" he cried, hanging onto the edge of the walkway with
one hand.
Cutter looked, Zan was circling back, she might attack again. He'd
never seen her this angry, this out of control, but he'd never seen her
physically attacked before, he'd never seen her life be threatened. He
crawled over and reached out his hand, the terrorist grabbed it and
Cutter helped pull him up. The man began to scramble again, once he had
been lifted back up, Cutter couldn't tell if it was panic, or if he was
going for his gun.
"Stop!" It was Zan. She had picked up the gun and stood on
the
walkway. It was aimed at the terrorist.
****
Gryphon Colony Asteroid
Ambush Site
Ahdjiia was very aware of Victor's struggle because of his affect on
her. She knew she had to move fast so he could unleash the Beast Within.
Her eyes darted and found a bit of protecting wall that was left from
a
building's fall and from the other debris in the area, the terrorists
would have a hard time with visibility and firing. There was a chance
to
get the civilians to better cover for the officers to do their job.
"Strike!" she yelled out to Victor as she made her move to
get the
civilians to safety.
Shots fired around her, one almost clipping her leg, but Ahdjiia kept
her calm as she hurried them along. One of the children stumbled and
she
wasted not a nanosecond as she scooped him up and felt the first blast
to her hip.
Ahdjiia bit her lip rather than cry out. As it was, the acrid stench
of
burning flesh was enough. She forced herself to run, and another shot
clipped her shoulder.
There was only a little further to go, but she kept on despite the
agony.
Just as she felt her legs about to give out, she sent the child off
with
a shove as a shot struck home, hitting her in the chest near her heart.
Ahdjiia fell to the ground; her last sight was of the civilians taking
safe shelter.
Cora had been thrown clear of the blast by the grenade's shock wave
when
it finally blew. By default she landed closest to Ahdjiia's location.
It
had been a rather rough but short flight and she was incredibly lucky.
A
few scrapes and scratches along with a jammed shoulder. Making sure the
kids were ok was her first task. Adrenaline blocked her own pain and
it
would be some time before the after effects of being airborne truly sunk
in.
"Permission Granted" Part 2 of 2
(Takes place immediately after 'No One Has Permission To Die')
Principal Characters:
Lt. (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Lt. (JG) Ahdjiia D'Tinya-Bolivar
Ensign Cora Dobryin
Lt. Cutter Kara'nin
Secondary Characters:
Ensign Paul Hanley
Ensign So'ka
Zan Lanaka
****
Gryphon Colony Asteroid
Twenty meters above the ambush
All three sat frozen, the two Fruna'lin and the human, two on their
backs, one standing over them with a gun, waiting for one of them to
move. It was Cutter. "Zan. Stop, don't shoot him." She gave
no
reply, and the man began to scurry backwards, trying to flee.
"Stop!" she said again, and she fired, a round ringing off
the walkway.
He did.
"Zan," Cutter said again. There was another eternal pause
before she
spoke again.
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Hold," Cutter said, "Let me tie him up. He can't do
anything then."
She stood, her jaw starting to quiver, her hand beginning to shake.
"Okay."
Cutter sighed, pushing out his stress with his breaths. He removed one
of the bands around his arm, untying it and using its long length as
rope. The terrorist cooperated, afraid for his life, and in another
moment, his hands and feet were bound. Only then did Zan lower the gun.
****
Gryphon Colony Asteroid
Ambush Site
"We need to med evac her ASAP," Cora yelled to Victor as she
carefully
made her way over to check on the injured security officer. "She
doesn't look good."
Victor shook his head, trying to get the pounding that had risen to
a
roar to clear enough to let him think. This was different than he fought
alone; this was why he couldn't command a ship - because he saw nothing
but the targets and himself, the others were forced away, out of sight
as the thing that lived inside him started to claw its way out.
With a growl that made the woman he'd saved draw back in shock, he
stepped out into the open, knowing the location of the last shooter from
the way D'Tinya had spun back from the impact. As he rose, he thumbed
up
the setting on the rifle, the meter reading '11' when he fired his first
shot.
The beam struck the wall the sniper had fired from, played across it
for
only an instant - and then the energy transference blew the stone and
duracrete apart, shattering the wall and sending the pieces back into
the building like thousands of stone knives and hammers. The building
shuddered as close to ten cubic meters of it vanished under the shot,
and them started to collapse in slow motion.
Without moving, Victor swiveled and brought the rifle to his shoulder
to
trigger another shot that blew out the side of a shop where another
volley of shots had come from, and then a third into the interior of
the
store, almost erasing it from the foundations and ending the incoming
fire. He turned, rifle seeking another target, the pounding in his head
slowed but not vanished, and his presence still filling the small square
so completely that it almost shoved the refugees and other crewmen out.
The whine of a single shot cut through the sudden silence with a
'skikkt' and a line of red sprang up along Victor's left cheek as it
cut
him, drawing a new snarl and a quick, pantherish turn in the direction
of the shooter. His rifle fired once more, taking out a balcony and part
of the wall under it, the blast throwing the sniper clear of the
building and into a perpendicular standard gravity zone. Victor watched
the man's abrupt positional transition and fall expressionlessly, his
head tilted to the side to see better, and only turned back to the
others after his target had crashed to the street forty meters ahead
of
them and one level up.
"How..." He stopped, shook his head, and tried again. "D'Tinya.
How
bad?"
"She was hit more than once it appears.. Hip and shoulder are the
least
of my worries. It's the chest wound that could be fatal. I'm not a
Doctor but that's too darn close to her heart for comfort. We certainly
don't have the proper facilities while we are here or aboard the
shuttle. Right now I'd say time is against us," Cora responded still
unaware of her own pain. "My expertise is Intelligence not medical."
The last was repeated so quietly and more for her own reassurance than
anything else.
Victor took three steps and knelt next to D'Tinya, his fingertips at
her
throat. "Pulse is bad," he agreed. He checked the chest wound
and
frowned, the sound of his pulse that had echoed in his head gone for
a
moment. "Call the Lieutenant and his lady, Dobryin. See if they
need
help, and get them down here. I need them to transport her back to the
runabouts ASAP - or at least to the runabout's transporter range." He
looked down at D'Tinya's still form again and waved Hanley over, taking
the field medical kit from him. "I'll do what I can. Hanley, you
and
So'ka get those kids away from her. Get everyone away from her."
"Aye, sir," the pair agreed and started herding the children
and their
keepers back across the small square.
Victor spilled the kit out on the ground and grabbed up a compress and
one of the emergency regenerators even though he knew it couldn't heal
the wound, and would only delay the inevitable. He hesitated, and then
simply tore her jacket and tunic open to gain access to the injury.
"You're not going to die, D'Tinya," he growled as he applied
pressure
and set the regenerator for maximum depth and laid it atop the compress.
"Weren't you listening? No one has permission to die."
Ahdjiia felt the blackness around her ebb and she was vaguely aware
of
the feel of air on her skin and someone chewing her out. Her eyes
flickered open, and she managed to mouth 'sorry'.
"Don't be sorry, D'Tinya," Victor said as he ran the small
scanner from
the kit over her and frowned. "Be alive. The children are." He
looked at
a reading and his frown deepened. "Your child is. You should have
told
me, D'Tinya. I'd have left you on the ship."
"Wh.. won't... be.. codd...lld.", she managed to force out, "S...
ssstill...securit...ee."
Ahdjiia focused all she had into keeping herself going to at least be
able to see Saladin one last time, but she wasn't sure she was going
to
pull it off.
Victor looked at her for a moment, checked the readings again, and made
a frustrated, angry noise in the back of his throat. "You should
have
stayed," he repeated as he set the scanner aside and checked the
dermal
regenerator. "It's bad. There's damage to the heart, and there will
be
more by the time we get you to Malgin. Too much damage."
She closed her eyes, understanding what he wasn't saying. "Save...
m...
son... Saladin..." she struggled out.
Victor leaned closer, his voice a low growl, like a tiger's. "You
can't
go, D'Tinya. I have to give you permission to go, and I won't. Not until
the boy is safe. Do you understand? You don't have permission to die."
A faint smile crossed her lips and Ahdjiia reached out to take Victor's
hand as if to hold on longer and gain strength from him.
Victor frowned, looked at her hand, and slowly closed his fingers over
hers. "Tell me you understand, D'Tinya. I need to hear you say it."
Rather than force the speech, and to conserve her strength for at least
her son to live, Ahdjiia mouthed 'yes'.
Victor nodded once, looked down at her for a moment in silence, and
then
said quietly, "You make good choices, D'Tinya. I promise you, your
son
will be with his father."
She managed a smile, and seemed to fade, but her grip on Victor's hand
was strong.
The beat of his pulse in his head returned abruptly and Victor growled
in frustration, his presence pushing out to surround them. "Stay
here,
D'Tinya. You can't go yet, not until I say you can."
The Beast Within that sent so many scurrying in fear was oddly
comforting to Ahdjiia. But then, considering it had a different reaction
on her, that was understandable. Rather than answer and use up more of
her strength, she squeezed Victor's hand firmly.
He frowned again and squeezed her hand back awkwardly. Death he
understood intimately, but this he didn't. Victor looked up at the
children across the plaza, huddled around the women that had guided them
to safety. They might not see their parents again, but at least they'd
known them. D'Tinya's son wouldn't even have that.
He growled again and looked down at the woman on the ground; regret
that
her killer's passing had been as quick as it had been filling his
thoughts. He should have killed the man slower, should have made him
suffer the way D'Tinya's mate and son would at her loss, should have...
With an effort, he pushed the thoughts back. He had no time for them
now. D'Tinya had no time for them. Not anymore.
"Wait," he told her. "The lieutenant and his woman will
carry you back
to Malgin. He squeezed her hand again, the gesture still alien to him
as
he started to stand. "I'll be back."
****
Gryphon Colony Asteroid
Ambush Site
Five Minutes Earlier
"Dobryin to Cutter we need you down here ASAP," Cora radioed
for
assistance.
A man fell at the edge of the cleared people, smacking the ground with
a
loud 'thwack,' causing the children to scream again. They were quickly
silenced by the sight of two winged Fruna'lin landing immediately
afterwards.
"What happened to her?' she asked quickly, noticing a red ooze
on the
female Fruna'lin's wing.
"She was shot in the wing," Cutter said, gesturing to Zan.
Cora nodded then asked, "Can you fly?"
"My plumage is *robelau*," she spat, the tone of her voice
causing the
one brave child to withdraw his hand before touching her.
"Its just skin, anchors the feathers," Cutter explained quickly. "She
can fly."
He looked down at the fallen security officer then, really noticing
for
the first time what had occurred. Though it was painfully obvious, all
he could bring himself to say was, "What happened?"
"Ambush," was all Cora managed to say in the chaotic aftermath
of recent
events.
"Lieutenant." It was Victor, his presence pushing at Cutter
and the
others seconds before his voice did. "I need your help."
Zan seemed to frown harder as Victor approached, Cutter visibly tensed
up. "Um...all right. What?"
"D'Tinya. She has to go back to Malgin."
"Can she be moved?"
"Yes." Victor's voice was flat and emotionless.
Cutter sighed and then had to try a few times before he could speak,
"It's not that easy. My wings can lift a lot of weight, it's hard,
but
I can do it. My arms can't. I'm not as -- *we're* not as strong as
humans," he explained, his wings flashing open as he stressed his
species. "If I try to carry her, I...I could make it worse."
"She's already dead, Lieutenant," Victor said with the quiet
certainty
of Death itself. "But the child inside her isn't. She can't leave
until
it's safe. That's why she has to go back. For the son she'll never see."
Cutter nodded, reluctantly accepting his duty. He took a deep breath,
his large chest puffing out and back in, and then stepped over to the
fallen officer. He raised her shoulders and placed an arm around her
back, then put the other arm under her knees and lifted. A sound
slipped from his lips as he lifted more than his body weight; he
struggled, almost dropping her back down before he caught a better grip.
Victor watched as the Lieutenant took several quick steps forward,
concerned that he was losing control, that he was going to fall, but
then his wings whipped open and lifted D'Tinya and himself into the air.
Victor turned to Zan, but she was already gone, taking flight to catch
Cutter and take some of D'Tinya's weight. The two Fruna'lin together
managed her weight well enough that they began to pick up speed as they
departed.
Without looking away, Victor tapped his combadge. =/\= "Krieghoff
to
Medical Team. One wounded officer in transit. ETA... five minutes
maximum. Wounds are kinetic impact and fatal, but officer is pregnant.
They request the child be saved." =/\=
A nervous woman's voice answered, =/\= "Ahhh... roger, Landing
Party.
You say the wound is fatal?" =/\=
=/\= Yes. Damage to the heart and lung. Severed blood vessels bleeding
into lungs. One kinetic projectile has shattered the left hip,
endangering child." =/\=
After a moment, a different voice answered. =/\= "Understood,
Lieutenant. Will advise Dr. Malgin." =/\=
Victor nodded. =/\= "Contact me when child is secure." =/\=
=/\= "Dr. Malgin says he will do so," =/\= the second voice
reported.
=/\= Medical Team out." =/\=
Victor turned back to the silent people watching him. "Dobryin,
you're
in charge of returning these people to the Medical Team. Take three men
and set out after you get yourself looked at. I'll take the rest and
keep going to the Reception Area."
Cora simply nodded, "Understood." Training and experience
ruled her
actions because that required the least effort. None of them would
forget what happened here. The medical team's response still hung in
the
air as she moved to carry out her duties.
****
Gryphon Colony Asteroid
En Route to Reception Area
Thirty-Seven Minutes Later
=/\= "Medical Team to Lieutenant Krieghoff." =/\=
Victor stopped the now-reduced column and tapped his combadge. "=/\= "Krieghoff here." =/\=
=/\= "You wanted to be contacted when Dr. Malgin was done with
Lieutenant D'Tinya-Bolivar. The Doctor reports the transfer to a
temporary stasis womb was a success. The child is returning to the
Galaxy with the first load of wounded in approximately three minutes." =/\=
Victor frowned. =/\= "D'Tinya?" =/\=
=/\= "She's holding on, Lieutenant. She shouldn't be, but she is.
It's
like she can't... like she can't go, like something is keeping her
here." =/\=
=/\= "Let me speak to her." =/\=
=/\= "Sir?" =/\=
=/\= "Let me speak to her." =/\= He hadn't raised his voice,
but
suddenly it was the same one he'd used to quell the com traffic earlier.
There was silence on the other end of the com for a minute, and then
yet
a third voice spoke. =/\= "We've put her combadge next to her ear,
sir." =/\=
=/\= "D'Tinya, can you hear me?" =/\= Victor's voice hadn't
changed, but
its inflection had, making it less overtly menacing but no less
disturbing.
After a second, the voice of the nurse responded, =/\= "She can,
sir.
She just can't speak." =/\=
=/\= "Listen carefully, D'Tinya," =/\= Victor said, each word
distinct
and sharp as broken glass. =/\= "Permission granted." =/\=
There was a gasp from the other end of the com, as if someone had
received a sudden relief from something terrible, and the voice of the
nurse whispered in an oddly frightened, subdued voice, "=/\= "She's
gone, sir." =/\=
=/\= "Krieghoff out." =/\=
Victor turned without a word and started moving again. After a moment,
the other members of the team followed him hesitantly.
"Transition, Part 2: Touring Mode"
by
Ensign Tarin Iniara
Operations Officer,
USS Galaxy
Location: USS Galaxy, Decks 19-39
Finding her quarters had been easy enough. Ensign Tarin had been surprised
to see that her quarters on the Galaxy were almost a mirror image of
her old ones on Starbase 23. Except for the minor size differences and
the slanted walls with the giant picture windows, it looked like someone
had merely taken her starbase quarters, flipped them over, and plopped
them down on the Galaxy. It would take a little getting used to.
After depositing her bag in the corner of the room and resolving to
unpack later, Iniara decided to begin her self-guided tour, starting
at the bottom. She dropped the one PADD on her desk and retrieved another
one from her bag, the one she had been using to study the Galaxy's layout.
Stepping out of her quarters, she quickly made her way down the hallway
to the first turbolift she could find. After a moment the lift's doors
whooshed open and she stepped inside, calling up a ship schematic on
the PADD. "Deck 39," she stated, giving the number of the bottom-most
deck that contained anything she might have to know about while on duty.
The turbolift doors opened at her destination, revealing still more
hallways to be traversed. Iniara accessed the detailed specs for Deck
39 and began walking. "Bulk Cargo...Shuttle Bays..." she began
to tick off as she made her way around the hallways. Not a whole lot
on this deck, time to move up.
The next deck was similarly uneventful, as was the next, and the next.
Only a skeleton crew appeared to be running the ship at the time; the
majority of the crew was probably off on the starbase, she figured. Even
Main Engineering had been mostly empty; apparently there wasn't much
to do with the ship docked, aside from making sure nothing blew up, that
is.
~Having a ship full of empty hallways is probably better,~ she mused,
once more burying herself in the PADD's data and not really paying attention
to every step along her way. ~Fewer people to bump into.~
Fewer people on board also mean fewer minds to feel, she stopped to
remind herself. She hadn't realized until she left Starbase 23 how accustomed
she'd become to the people who lived there, both physically and mentally.
But during the first few hours off the starbase she'd started to develop
a serious headache, a consequence of actually having to maintain and
reinforce mental shields to keep out all the new minds she was around.
She had admonished herself for becoming complacent, getting so used to
everyone that she let her shields relax, sometimes even deliberately
dropping them and just letting the waves of telepathic energy push against
her until she couldn't take it anymore.
It was exactly this which Iniara felt herself beginning to do as she
completed her tour of Deck 19. Figuring this was as good a place as any
to test the mental waters, she ducked into the arboretum. She poked around
for a second, making sure the area was empty. Satisfied, she leaned against
a wall, closing her eyes and slowing her breathing. A few moments later
she tentatively began to drop her shields, opening her mind to the ship
and its crew all around her.
~*...see what Rachel was wearing last night, I mean damn! What a...*~
~*...useless piece of junk! Dad, you can't...*~
~*...believe they burned her at the stake. Earth's Middle Ages...*~
~*...trashed this plasma injector, it seems. Guess we'll have to get
a...Milkshake. Chocolate. You want anything while I'm...sweaty and disgusting.
I don't think his mother ever taught him to kill targs with his bare
hands! Oh oh, and they say he can report to Sickbay, please take care
of that filthy socks when will he ever learn to have a Class Five pilot's
holodeck seems to bedon'tpointthatflamingdrinktryityou'llprobablydiewithinthenextfiveyearsiftheshipcant'seemtopullhisheadoutofhotdogsandfrenchfrieswereagrEATBRIDGEHASNEVERSEEMEDTHIS--*~
A loud, hollow clatter brought Iniara back to her senses. Immediately
her default shields went back up, and she took a few moments to reinforce
those as she almost always had to do. She then turned her attention to
the source of the noise, realizing that the PADD she had been holding
was now on the ground, propped up awkwardly against one of her feet.
She reached down and picked it up, sliding it under one arm, unconsciously
running her free hand through her hair.
~How long...? Couldn't have been more than a minute, if that.~ Iniara
sighed, realizing that her headache had come back in full force after
her little "experiment". It was going to take some time to
adjust, especially when the full crew compliment was back on board.
"Well, I've done it before, I can do it again," she said to
herself, voice echoing slightly in the empty room. She pushed herself
away from the wall, turning and exiting the arboretum. Once outside,
she pulled the PADD from under her arm. ~Only eighteen more decks to
go...~
Dr. Janelle Reynolds
CMO
USS Galaxy
Things had been quiet for Dr. Reynolds. Sickbay was
slow and now that they were on the starbase, things
got even slower as everyone prepared to get off the ship
for a little R and R.
Dr. Reynolds had no desire to go off the ship until she
heard that the Miranda was docking there too. She
wondered who she knew on that ship. Looking at the
crew manifest, she recognized a few names. One
name stood out in her mind, Rayna O'Grady. She
remembered her from a party for one of the big wigs.
She would have to visit her sometime. It would be
nice to talk to someone than stay there and read up
on her medical journals.
"Like Sands Through An Hourglass"
(Set one day after 'Days of Our Lives')
Principle Characters:
Lt (JG) Victor Krieghoff
Samantha Widdlestein
*****
USS Galaxy
Deck 38
Security Main
Victor Krieghoff's Office
Samantha Widdlestein sat down and folded her hands in front of her
professionally. At least that's what she told herself. The man across
from her frowned and his presence gloomily stretched across the room,
filling it with terror, dread, and other unpleasant feelings.
"Could you turn it down a bit?" Sam snapped at Victor.
"Turn what down?" It really was a silly question, but Victor
supposed
that there was always the possibility that she'd meant something besides
the obvious.
"The heebie jeebie vibe."
"I can't," he said quietly. It had been a futile hope after
all. Maybe
it would speed up the process of the interview he'd agreed to in order
to get Widdlestein out of the Biology labs without a fight.
"Ooh, that's a good place to start then." She cooed and turned
on her
recorder. "Let's talk about that."
"Not much to say."
"Did you pick it up from some creepy alien?" Sam asked, her
imagination
coming up with a thousand dramatic scenarios all at once.
"No, it's always been there. Even when I was an infant - the other
newborns wouldn't stop screaming until I was taken to a private room."
Samantha's eyes widened with sadness. It didn't stop her from making
her
character Savage have a similar incident happen to him in her notes
though.
"That's so horrible. You must have been really unhappy as a kid."
"Not always. Once I understood that I was different, that I wasn't
ever
going to be like the rest of them, I learned to find things that I could
do to fill the time. Things that took the place of what I couldn't have.
"Such as?" Sam asked in a professional tone.
"I study a lot. Remote learning classes, self-paced holo-courses,
things
like that. I learned the family's traditional trade." He smiled
slightly.
"And I learned to hunt."
She didn't really care for the smile, it looked mean and vicious but
it
was also perfect for the final showdown battle between Savage and the
yet-unnamed-bad guy. "Tell me about hunting. Why do you like it?"
"Because when I hunt, I don't have to hide what I am. There are
no rules
beyond the ones that I was born knowing. There's just me and my prey,
hunting each other. It's simpler, cleaner. One lives, one dies. No
predator can ask for more than that."
Sam frowned and decided to switch the subject. Thoughts of hunting gave
her the creeps. "So, I've done some research on you and you lied
to me."
"About what?"
"You've got two girlfriends!" Sam announced, proud of her
investigation
skills.
"No, I don't." Victor supposed that it was too much to ask
that a child
might not have heard about his supposed social life.
"Yeah you do. Everyone says so."
"They aren't my girlfriends," he repeated. "No matter
what everyone
says."
"Says here that you have one named Ella, a real bitch most people
say,
and Angelina, a deaf mute." Samantha said, deliberately messing
up her
facts to see his reaction.
Victor reflected that her misinterpretation was at least better than
swapping him with Leo Streeley and saying that he'd been Princess
DeV'oraH's love-slave. "Lt. Grey is mute. Flight Officer Angelienia
is a
bitch. Neither of them are my girlfriend," he replied tonelessly.
"But if one were your girlfriend, which would you choose?"
"I wouldn't. There isn't any reason to."
"That's why I used 'if' Victor." Sam said primly. "Surely
you can pick
one."
"No. There isn't any point to it. Neither of them are for me."
Sam rolled her eyes. "Tell me about your family. Did your parents
tie
you up as a child?" Savage would work out better if he were abused,
she
thought.
"No. They were the only people that I didn't do... whatever it
is that I
do... to when I was a child."
Well, that was disappointing, Samantha thought. "If you didn't
have the
heebie jeebie vibe, what's the first thing you would do?"
"Nothing. I'd be dead."
Sam sighed in exhasperation. "I said "if"."
Victor frowned slightly. "I don't do 'what if's' there's no point
to
them.
There's only what is."
The girl pouted out her lower lip. "You promised to cooperate if
I left
the bio lab. Its not that hard of a question. If *I* for instance were
older, I would join the Academy. If you didn't have the heebie jeebie
vibe you would...."
With a sigh, Victor forced himself to try and consider what he might
do
in that situation. "I would..." His voice trailed off as he
tried to
find something, anything that he would do if that were true. "I
would...I don't know."
"Awww, common!"
"I don't know anything else other than what I am," he said
quietly. "I
can't see myself any other way."
Sam narrowed her eyes and then nodded firmly as if making some internal
decision. "You definitely don't have much of an imagination, do
you?
Well, okay, since you can't tell me now, you're going to have to think
about it and tell me next time."
"Next time?" Victor's frown deepened.
"Why of course." Sam said with a smile. "You're much
too complicated for
just one interview."
"What, exactly, are you doing this for again?" he asked quietly.
Samantha rolled her eyes. "Deaf as well. I *told* you I'm doing
research
for my book. I think you're an excellent model for my lead role. Which
reminds me, what do you think would be the ultimate prey for a hunter
to
catch? Sharks (she asked a bit hopefully)? Tigers? Bigfoot?"
"Alive or dead?" Victor asked, relieved to have a question
that made
sense.
"Alive of course. Our readers like to relate to things."
"Terran or non-Terran?"
"Ooooh, non Terran." Sam said happily.
"Francosian Land Kraken," Victor replied without hesitation.
"What's that?"
"The largest predator native to Francos IX in the Gallican Cluster.
Only
hunted successfully with less than vehicle-mounted weaponry six times
in
recorded history, and never successfully without military-grade energy
weapons."
"What's it look like?" She asked eagerly.
"Easier to show you." Victor stood and moved to the LCARS
panel in the
desk by Samantha. He worked the controls for a moment, and then nodded
towards the holographic display set in the front of the desk as an image
materialized in it. "There. Three meters tall, four wide. Mass
approximately six tons. Armored skin proof against phasers and
disruptors up to setting seven, reduced effects after that due to the
crystalline structure of the armor plates. Sixteen tentacles with
organic steel grasping tips. Distributed circulatory and nervous system
make it immune to stun effects. Carnivorous. Beaked maw capable of
taking the nose off a shuttlepod."
"Holy smegging Kahless." Sam said in awe. "That's perfect." She
looked
at it for a few minutes, trying to think of descriptive words for it.
"How would you go about killing one of those things? HAVE you ever
killed one?"
"No." He frowned. "I fought one on the Defiant - it was
someone's
nightmare the ship brought to life. I put out an eye, but it would have
killed me if I hadn't run." He stared at the image. "The six
successful
hunts all used man-portable anti-armor weapons like isomagnetic
disintegrators and occurred at distances of greater than fifty meters
to
allow for the multiple shot necessary to bring one down. Under that
distance, no tactic except flight has ever worked."
"Er, can you say that in Federation Standard, Victor?" Sam
asked.
He blinked. "You can't hunt them with anything designed primarily
to
kill people," he tried again. "You have to treat them like
a
shuttlecraft or a grav tank and kill them like you would one of those
-
with big guns from far away."
"Oh." She studied it further. "Were you scared by it?"
"No. I knew it was going to kill me, so there was no point in it." He
shrugged. "I've only ever been scared of one thing, and this isn't
it."
Sam looked expectantly at him.
"Becoming what people think I am."
"You need a life, Victor." Samantha said firmly as she wrote
down
brooding on her notes and underlined it twice. "Or, at least, a
vacation."
"I don't take vacations."
"Everyone takes vacations." She informed him. "Ok, well,
why not?"
"Because the Galaxy always stops at places where people go, where
they
do things that people want to do."
"So?"
"Because I'm not like them. I can't be in large crowds, someone
will get
hurt. Risa and the other resort planets don't offer anything I want to
do."
"Probably not." She couldn't imagine Victor trying to suntan.
Victor looked at the girl for a moment. "I hunt things that are
hunting
me. I kill them or they kill me. No phasers, no stun settings, no live
captures. Just one predator dueling with another. No resort world will
accommodate that."
"You should vacation on Qo'nos." Samantha told him. "I
bet the Klingons
do stuff like that." She shook her head. "The more I think
about it, the
more perfect you and Arel are for each other."
"Not a good idea," Victor said expressionlessly. "The
effect that I have
on people is worse when they come from a race with a predatory
background. The closer the predator is to the surface, the more likely
I
am to trigger a 'fight' reflex instead of a 'flight' one."
She wrote down stubborn and impossible in her notes in capital letters
and then underlined them. "I can see what she means." Samantha
muttered.
"What 'who' means?" he frowned.
"Oh, I interviewed your gir....er, friend too." Sam said. "Ella
Grey"
Victor's frown darkened perceptibly. "You... interviewed... Grey."
"She was very discreet and didn't say anything about you other
than your
stubborn and impossible at times."
He didn't respond for a moment, and then finally nodded, "She's
usually
right."
Samantha raised an eyebrow but let it pass. Of the two women, she liked
Ella Grey better but not by all that much. The woman had threatened to
throw a computer PADD at her if she didn't leave Engineering. The
Ktarian woman however... "Your other non-girlfriend is mean. She
said
mean things about Lt. Grey, me, and my mummy. Mummy says nasty ho's
always get what they deserve and Arel says don't let them walk all over
you..."
With a frown - the fifteenth different one Sam had catalogued to date
-
Victor said, "Your friend is right, you shouldn't let people walk
all
over you. But..."
"So," Samantha said with an amused look. "I kicked her
hard in the
shins."
"...violence isn't always the right way to solve a problem," Victor
continued. "It's *one* way, but not always the right one."
"I probably shouldn't have stomped on her toe then, huh?"
"Probably not," he agreed. "She didn't try to hurt you,
did she?"
"Nah." Sam said. "When I said you were my friend she
got all quiet." Sam
smirked as she remembered the woman's look of disappointment. "Well,
I
think that concludes this interview. I'll let you know if I need you
again in the future, which I probably will once I send Arel the
preliminary holoprogram."
Victor frowned and started to speak, but Sam has already scooted her
chair back and dashed out of the room a smoothly as sand slipping
through an hourglass before he could speak.
OOC: Backpost! Another post follows...
"Rescue Me"
(Occurs immediately after "Stepping Over The Cracks")
Principle Characters:
Commander Karyn Dallas, RN
Chief Counselor/Second Officer
Lt. j/g Victor Krieghoff
Security Officer
USS Galaxy - A
****
Gryphon Colony
Diplomatic Reception Area
Pinned Under Rubble
Unconsciousness was not uneventful or merciful for Karyn Dallas. Were
she in
a position to appreciate it, she might have given Dr. Freud some kind
of
credit for that little discovery, but then again, considering the kind
of
crap she was being confronted with, giving the father of psychoanalysis
a
thumbs up was like congratulating the inventor of the guillotine on the
weapon's efficiency.
Images, hazy and distorted, flashed through her mind, all violent and
all in
living color. One didn't have to review the ship's logs to know that
Karyn
Dallas had very little to celebrate, and for missions like the one
classified on Romulus years ago, her unconscious was the only place she
allowed herself to work anything out. But there was more to deal with,
not
the least of which was lanjep or this "thing" with Victor.
Her closed eyes twitching rapidly in REM sleep, a moan followed by a
gasp
escaped her lips. Victor, covered in blood was coming toward her, the
same
damn leer on his face. Just as she was about to scream, she heard a loud
crash, and just like that, Victor was being sucked through the Gryphon
dome.
She felt her lips turn upward into a smile (for in her dreams she did
not
have to be sorry or guilty for having fantasies about his death or of
killing him with her own hands), until belatedly she realized she too
was
being pulled upward toward the vacuum of space.
Her eyes widened and her heart raced. Dying was one thing, but dying
and
then spending eternity with Victor was quite another. As in reality,
Karyn's
attempts to stop herself from entering the void were futile, and as she
felt
the panic closing around her, she began to scream.
With a start, Karyn awoke screaming.
****
Gryphon Colony
Asteroid
Diplomatic Reception Area
Outside the entrance
The sound of his pulse beat louder and louder in Victor's ears as the
two
judges - one man and one woman - hurled accusations and invective at
each
other. Shrill voices and angry murmurs ran through the crowd as the two
polarized the feelings of the survivors of the diplomatic attack, raising
the tensions in the room higher with every word.
"...your damned Troyer assassins!"
"...Drayson murderers..."
"...child-killing bastards..."
"...terrorist scum..."
The pulse in Victor's head beat one final time, and the pressure reached
the
point where it could no longer be contained. The survivors had been too
frightened and panicked to understand what was loose among them before,
but
they all, to a man, understood as his voice roared out "Enough!" and
his
presence slammed into them like a hammer.
Both the judges recoiled, actually seeing the man standing there for
the
first time in his blood-stained Federation uniform. Eyes wide, they stared
as the other survivors all drew back from them as Victor reached out
and
took the two leaders by the throat. "Enough!" he repeated as
he drew them
closer, hands scrabbling at his arms frantically as they sought to escape.
Behind him, So'ka flinched and half-lifted his rifle, praying that he
wasn't
going to have to shoot his superior officer down to save the two.
When Victor spoke again, the words were his - but the voice wasn't.
The
judges and the other survivors knew whose it was: they'd been brushed
by him
only hours ago, felt his cold hand slide across them and choose to pass
them
by... and now he was back, speaking to them through the man in front
of
them, his words edged with the cries of the damned. Death was here.
"No talking," Victor said to the judges quietly, his voice
carrying across
the suddenly still room. "You do what you're told, nothing more.
If you talk
again without permission, I'll kill you to keep the others from rioting.
Understand?"
The judges both nodded.
"Galaxy crewmen. Where are they?" Victor looked at the two,
and then nodded
to the female judge. "You answer."
"They're... gone. Your Captain and some of the others evacuated
out the
other side of the banquet hall," she said slowly, voice trembling. "I
don't
know. what happened to them. Commander... Corgan, left with the Ambassador
to try and get the communications relays working." She looked around. "I...
I think that's all."
Victor nodded, still not releasing her. "You," he turned to
the other judge.
"Anything to add?"
"Ahhh... no... wait!" He pointed wildly towards the piles
of rubble blocking
part of the room. "There was another one - the woman in the float-chair.
She
was... over there."
Victor turned and looked at the piles of rubble. "Dallas." He
turned back
and frowned at the pair. "You left her there?"
"She," the man gasped frantically, "she has to be dead.
No one could have
survived that collapse."
"No." The word was flat and definite. "She's alive." Without
releasing the
two, Victor looked up. "So'ka. Hanley. You're in charge. Take the
others and
evacuate these... people to the staging area. If they give you trouble,
stun
them and drag them the rest of the way." He eyed the still crowd.
"Understood?"
"Aye, sir," So'ka said slowly, still keeping his weapon up,
just in case.
"What about you?"
"I'm going after Dallas."
The ensign eyed the rubble-choked half of the room and the corridor
that led
to the rest of the reception area. "Are you sure she's... I mean,
is it wise
to risk someone else, sir?"
Victor dropped the two judges casually, and turned his back on them. "She's
alive, So'ka," he repeated quietly, the words carrying no further
than the
ensign. "She doesn't have permission to die yet. I gave it to D'Tinya,
but
that was it. No more."
"Ummm... yes, sir."
"Get them out of here before I do something you'll have to shoot
me for,
So'ka," Victor said softly. "I'll get Dallas and follow you.
Once you get
them to safety, get a team out after the Captain."
The ensign nodded and turned to the crowd, barking orders to form them
up.
When he looked back a moment later, Victor was gone.
****
Gryphon Colony
Diplomatic Reception Area
Pinned Under Rubble
Gasping for breath and shivering, Karyn tried desperately to get her
heart
and mind under control, to fight past the sheer panic crashing over her
in
waves. As she had so many times in recent months, Dallas felt as if the
the
walls were closing in on her. The irony was she had been fighting so
hard
emotionally to keep the world from crashing down around her, all the
while
knowing it was futile, and now she had tangible proof of that, quite
literally.
She struggled mightily to move, straining against the grav-chair that
had
once again proved to be a hinderance, and perhaps her very own death
trap.
Her head continued to pound as blood from yet another gash on her forehead
trickled into her eyes. It was all too perfect, really. Were she a
religious person, she might have said God was playing another joke on
her,
perhaps punishing her for something.
But for what? Hadn't she done everything she could to protect the values
and people she cared about? And for what? So she could live out the last
months of her life miserable and keeping other people's secrets?
This was not how she wanted to die, not trapped in this clausterphobic
hell
hole where she could measure the last minutes of her life in breaths
she had
left. Hell no, she decided, if she was going to die, she was going to
die
kicking and screaming.
Karyn continued to call for help, screaming not in her normal determination,
but in desperation and frustation, not just because of her current
predicament, but because if this was to be the end of her life, it had
turned out to be pretty shitty.
Frustration turned into anger, and anger eventually turned into tears.
They
started slowly at first, for she knew crying would not accomplish anything
except make her feel weaker than she already did. Why was she even crying?
She was an officer for God's sake. If she had to die, then she would
die.
Death didn't bother her.
But the manner in which it occured sure as hell did. God, she hated
feeling
helpless. The world had never been predictable for her, not even
accommodating really. But she had fought all of her life to be accepted,
to
find direction, because no matter what happened, she was a person capable
of
making a valuable contribution. She used to feel self-assured, a sense
of
purpose...and personal safety.
The tears came harder and faster, and Karyn felt an overwhelming sense
of
loss, although for what she wasn't exactly sure. She was afraid she might
not ever stop. Wave after wave overcame her, her sobs echoing from her
man-made cave.
She cried for the Gryphonites who had lost their lives, she cried for
Kent
Peterson and the woman she might have become were it not for Jarol and
the
secrets on Romulus, she cried for Michael, who had loved her so much
and had
now moved on without her... She cried for Lee and for lanjep, and she
cried
for Victor, for as much as she wanted to forgive him for what had happened
between them, she wasn't sure she could ever face him again without facing
the demons of her childhood.
She could kill for a drink.
****
Gryphon Colony
Diplomatic Reception Area
Collapsed Waiting Area
Victor checked the setting on his rifle, noted the power levels were
down
38%, and triggered it, the beam lancing out and evaporating a section
of the
rubble blocking his path. He released the trigger to prevent
over-penetrating and possibly striking something - or someone - he didn't
want to, and watched as the surrounding stone started to cool.
He'd been working his way back through the collapsed portions of the
reception area for the last twenty minutes, climbing over things he couldn't
move, and simply removing the ones he could do neither to with
carefully-placed shots from his rifle. He had to be close to the Counselor's
last position now - the piles of rubble he'd investigated previously
had
contained a few sets of remains, but none of them were accompanied by
the
remains of her float chair.
He stopped and tried his tricorder again, but his nearness to the surface
of
the asteroid and the open dome and the failure of the colony's shielding
rendered it useless. With a frown, he put it away. His own senses were
better for this anyway.
The smell of the rooms was almost swallowed by the choking dust that
had
started to settle, and the burnt odor of charred insulation and circuitry
that had accompanied the collapse, but he closed his eyes and concentrated.
No one got left behind, even if they hated him. They were still his to
protect, and he'd do that until M'Kantu transferred him and he was given
a
new herd of sheep to guard.
There. Blood, still fresh. Sweat. Fear. Dallas.
He slung the rifle and started forward slowly, following the scent as
best
he could until he rounded a collapsed column and saw her. She was trapped
in
her chair, like she'd been the night Mudd's female android and her
pheromones and his illicit Klingon painkillers had made him into the
thing
he'd always feared himself to be. The night he'd beaten her in preparation
for a rape that had never happened. The night she'd stopped her fruitless
efforts to help him and found it was easier to just fear and hate him
like
the rest. He approached silently, and crouched down next to her as he
reflected that she, at least, had more reason than many.
"Counselor." He said the word once as he brushed her hair
back to check the
cuts on her head and see if he could reach the release past her. ""
Counselor," he repeated, as he caught at her head and supported
it.
And eventually swollen and reddened eyes met his... Immediately she
recoiled from his touch as if it contained deadly poison, not exactly
recognizing him, but knowing instinctually that something was wrong.
She
opened her mouth to say something and felt as if all breath had been
stolen
from her. He was covered in blood, and he was reaching for her, just
like in her nightmare. She fought to find the sound to scream, but she
found she couldn't tear her eyes away from his...
Flashback: "The Truth Hurts"
(Takes place two weeks after 'The Morning After The Night Before')
Commander Karyn Dallas, RN
Chief Counselor/Second Officer
Lt. j/g Victor Krieghoff
Security Officer
USS Galaxy - A
***
USS Galaxy
Deck 19
Arboretum
If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe she was at home. Here
amongst the the Betazed flowers and herbs, the sounds of the stream
trickling in the background, she had managed to find some semblance of
peace.
Karyn had come here a lot over the past couple of weeks, mostly to get
away
from Julia's concerned and disapproving gaze. An occasional glass of
wine
now and again and Dallas might as well have been getting plastered every
night for the looks that came her way.
And then there was her hair. What the hell was wrong with deciding to
go
with a shorter and more manageable style? So she'd cut it herself on
a whim
with a laser scalpel, an admittedly crazy move, but hadn't she gotten
it
fixed at the beauty shop? Jules couldn't exactly complain about the fact
that Karyn's hair was now *easier* to style, could she? It was ludicrous.
One moment she was a stick in the mud for sticking to a routine and the
next
she was being accused of losing her mind for living a little.
If her experiences over the last few months had taught her anything
it was
that life was too short to waste it working, always worrying about other
people. So what if she liked to sit and think in the Arboretum? Wasn't
personal time something they'd encouraged her to take? Ludicrous. The
hell
with them, this was not about pleasing other people, and it was hardly
what
anyone would call a crisis.
In here she could breathe.
****
USS Galaxy
Deck 7
Victor Krieghoff's Quarters
The third time that he looked up after having felt the walls start to
move
closer, Victor surrendered.
He couldn't stay in his quarters any longer. They were too small, too
confined, and what he carried inside him, the anger at himself and the
loathing at what he'd done and almost done to Karyn Dallas was too great
to
contain. It pressed against his skin from inside, pushing at it, seeking
a
way out, wanting to be free - and here, in his quarters, with the walls
still smelling of blood and the whispered echoes of Dallas' cries of
pain
still carried on the air, he couldn't let it out.
He had to leave.
There was only one choice, really, only one place to go, one place where
he
would feel free enough to let the anger and pain out, to bleed off enough
of
it so that he could deal with what was left. There wouldn't be anyone
there,
now, not this late. There never was. In all the time he'd been aboard
the
Galaxy, the only person he'd ever seen there this late was Chief Westwall,
and she'd been looking for him.
It took only a moment to slip on the uniform jacket that he wore to
make
himself look like everyone else, pitiful disguise that it was, and leave.
He needed to smell the trees.
****
USS Galaxy
Deck 19
Arboretum
There was someone else here. He knew it as soon as he stepped through
the
door, feet silent as night. He could smell them. and he knew that scent.
Dallas.
All the anger and frustration and shame roared back up like a fire just
fed
an accelerant. She was here, too. No just in his head and his quarters,
but
here, the last place he'd found on the ship that was his. The last place
he
could be alone. The one place he *needed* to be alone.
What was she here for? To deny him his chance to find some peace? To
remind
him of what he'd done? He'd already cancelled any future appointments
with
her, was that why? Or was it something else? Something he hadn't thought
of?
It didn't matter. Why she was here, what she wanted - it didn't matter.
He'd
find out, and then he'd leave. There was no peace for him here, not tonight.
****
Karyn was so lost in her own thoughts that at first she didn't hear
the
doors swish open. However, the sounds of the doors closing and someone's
footsteps startled here, causing her to jump and whip her neck around
to
look at the offending door.
The sight that greeted her was almost too much for her brain to process,
and
in fact she saw him exactly as he'd appeared then... a predator... a
monster... poised to strike. It was as if time had simply stopped. Her
heart pounded loudly in her ears, her skin suddenly prickly and warm.
She
felt queasy and faint, but couldn't bring herself to tear her gaze from
his.
She could feel her breath become ragged and shallow, the adrenaline coursing
through her. Karyn could not think a single, coherent thought, but instead
was assaulted by memories of the night he'd attacked her.
She knew she should scream or do something to get away, but as before
her
mouth and body refused to cooperate. As the emotions welled within her,
she
could only hope that they showed on her face. Anger. Disgust. Pain.
Humiliation. And hatred. If she was going to die, she would not die in
fear as she had almost done, but hating him.
"Counselor." The single word was flat and even, scrubbed clean
of any
emotional content or context, just a distant word and nothing more. Victor
regarded her for a moment, approaching no closer than two meters, his
eyes
expressionless in the shadows of the arboretum's night cycle. If he
recognized the emotions playing across her face, there was no sign of
it, no
sign that they reached him with any kind of an impact. After a moment,
he
tilted his head to the side in the wolfish way that he did when examining
things. "Well?" he said, voice still even and flat.
At first his response didn't register. Her first instinct was to check
for
a way out in case things turned violent. Her heart sank when she realized
she would have to move past him if she needed to escape. Instinctively
she
moved away from him, and that's when his words hit her. For the life
of
her, she couldn't understand how he could continue to look at her so
wolfishly. He was a true predator, reverting back to what he was...but
why?
Why now? Had he gotten what he wanted from her... was that it? Her anger
helped her find her voice. "'Well?' That's all you're going to say
to me
after what happened?"
"What am I supposed to say?" The words were still flat, neutral. "You
don't
want me to say anything, not really. You just want me to leave."
Karyn was incredulous. "So now you're reading my mind?? My God,
Victor, is
this how it's going to be every time you and I have to face each other,
you're just going to ignore me?"
"I wasn't looking for you. You were just here, waiting for me.
If you don't
have something to say, then there's no point to this, is there?"
Karyn began to tremble, although in anger or grief she wasn't sure. "You
want *me* to say something? What do you want me to say, Victor? Thank
you?
Thank you for not killing me? Thank you for beating me within an inch
of my
life, but for not banging my head on the floor enough times to put me
in a
coma, for not punching me severely enough to shatter the bones in my
face,
but for just breaking my nose, damaging my vision and giving me a
concussion?"
Angry tears streamed down her cheeks and this only served to enrage
her
more. Her words came out in a blinding rush, half the time spent looking
away from him, willing him to have some sort of emotional reaction to
what
she was saying. All this time she had believed she had protected someone
who was truly sorry and just as much the victim. Seeing him like this,
however, it was the ultimate slap in the face. It meant there was no
logical explanation for what he had done to her, that she had been fooled
from the moment he arrived. That there was a predator in her midst and
she
had protected another man who had never given a damn about her.
"Oh, I know, thank you so much for dragging me out of my chair
and beating
me into unconsciousness so if you decided to rape me I wouldn't recall
it.
Thank you for not giving me many conscious memories of your...hands all
over
my body as you scratched and clawed your way to do whatever
and...and...and...however it is you wanted. Thank you for leaving me
with
bruises and nightmares of all the things you might have done to me and
the
uncertainty of never knowing what you actually did in those moments.
Thank
you for the birth control and the antibiotics for three months, and for
now
looking at me like I'm crazy because I was stupid enough to protect your
sorry ass!"
Victor stood there as she fired her words at him like bullets from an
automatic slugthrower, their propellant hate and fear and anger instead
of
chemicals or electromagnetic force. They struck him every time, trying
to
dig in, but failed, falling to the ground, spent, as new ones took their
place. When it was over, when the last word had fallen to his feet, he
frowned once, the only sign acknowledging them he'd made. "If you'd
asked, I
could have told you that nothing happened you needed birth control for,
Counselor. You stopped things before that. You just didn't do what you
should have."
For a long time Karyn couldn't speak, her world suddenly drastically
out of
tilt. She was light headed, and had she been able to stand, she was sure
her knees would have buckled underneath her. "Wh...what? I...I need
to, I
need to hear you ss.. Please, just answer me. Did...did you rape me?"
For a long time Karyn couldn't speak, her world suddenly drastically
out of
tilt. She was light headed, and had she been able to stand, she was sure
her knees would have buckled underneath her. "Wh...what? I...I need
to, I
need to hear you ss.. Please, just answer me. Did...did you rape me?"
"No."
"Bu..but...you tried?"
"Not really, Counselor." He regarded her oddly - at least
for Victor - for a
moment and then added, "I think... I think all of that, the fight,
what I
did to you, that it was just... foreplay. We never got past that."
"Foreplay?" Karyn didn't know whether to be relieved overall
or merely
scared witless. For the moment she settled on relief. She took a deep
breath to clear her head and focus on his words. "I... I don't know
what
I'm supposed to say or do here, I... You were so messed up, Victor, it
was
like, it was like... like you didn't even see me." She shuddered.
There was a pause that stretched out longer than Karyn thought comfortable,
and then he said simply. "You didn't kill me like I told you to,
Counselor.
Everything would have been easier if you'd done that. Easier for you,
easier
for me, easier for everyone."
She stared at him for a very long time, her mouth agape, her brain
struggling to find the words. They both knew she had wanted to kill him
afterward, and even now her anger threatened to overtake her, but the
thought of actually killing him? "No! Not easier for everyone! Easier
for
you!" she practically spat. "You wanted me to kill you so you
wouldn't have
to face what you did, but you know what Krieghoff? I don't particularly
give a damn about what you want right now. All I *know* is that I can't
pretend it didn't happen, not with you."
Victor frowned as she snapped at him. "I didn't think you understood," he
said quietly. "I was right." He continued to frown at her a
moment longer in
silence, and then said, "If you remember, Counselor, I never asked
you to
pretend that nothing happened. I know something happened."
Karyn sighed, tired of beating a dead horse. It was clear she wasn't
going
to get what she wanted from him, although if she were honest with herself,
she would admit she wasn't exactly sure what that was...
Perhaps it was nothing more than a simple apology, an acknowledgement
not
only that he had hurt her, but that he was sorry for it. She'd wanted
him
to tell her it was no one's fault, that the damn pheromones were to blame,
but instead all she got was quiet acceptance, a clinical stare, and an
admonishment for not killing him when she had the chance. Was he truly
this
soul-less?
"Is there anything else, Counselor?" His voice never wavered
in the remote,
detached tone it had maintained since the conversation started. "You
can
scream at me if it will help. Or hit me again if that will help. It isn't
like you don't have the right."
When Karyn could look him in the eye again, it was a look full of regret
and
sadness. Her anger spent for the moment, she wondered if she would look
back on this moment with a sense of finality or emptiness. She had a
suspicion it would be the latter. What could beating a soul-less man
bloody
accomplish except to leave her with unclean hands? Twin tears traveled
down
her cheeks, but when she spoke, her voice was hollow, mechanical. "You
need
help, Victor. I... I can't give it to you, but I'll find someone who
can."
She looked past him at the door, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "What
I
want from you, you can't give me."
After a moment he nodded once. "All right, Counselor." He
hadn't expected
that she'd take him up on the offer, but he'd had to make it. He owed
her
the chance to release the demons left inside her after what he'd done. "If
you change your mind, you know where I am."
She nodded silently. She knew exactly where he was. In her dreams, every
time she turned around, and in her memory. She reached the door without
looking at him, but as the doors swished open, she turned.
He did not look back.
Wasteland
"Wasteland"
Captain Elaithin Jii,
USS Miranda
Lieutenant Corran Rex,
Vanguard CO,
USS Galaxy
---------------------------------------------------------
Deck One,
Main Bridge
USS Miranda
Captain Elaithin Jii quietly bounced his head against it's rest on the
rather nicely padded Captain's Chair. It was, perhaps, not the most
dignified of acts for a starship Captain, but after the nearly three
months
it had taken them to get back from the Galactic Barrier - three months
of
nothing but updating star charts and the like - the entire crew was bored
out of their ever-loving minds.
Jaal had even go so far as to suggest they detour to Risa on their way
back
to home port. It was on the way - if you didn't consider three whole
sectors
out of the way.
The Bajoran had almost even agreed to the idea, and he'd never even
been
much of a fan of Risa. He preferred Wrigley's Pleasure Planet. Well.
Before
he'd gotten married, at least. With the insanity that had happened on
his
and Jordan's honeymoon.....
Well, he'd never look at a Rigellian midget the same way again. That
was for
certain.
Trying to take his mind off the now-monotonous view of the stars being
stretched out at warp speeds, the Captain turned his head to observe
his
crew in action.
Or inaction, more like. But that was semantics, really.
The husband-wife pair of Commander Jaal Jaxom, Operations Manager as
well as
Second Officer, and his significant other, Lieutenant Commander Taalis,
Chief of Flight Control, were manning the forward stations. He still
found
the idea of their telepathic bond, which the Trill had only told him
about
after the mutiny incident with Admiral Ramsey, a little odd. But useful,
as
the pair worked extremely well together. He hadn't told Jaxom, but he'd
run
a stat analysis, and their effectiveness was over thirty percent higher
than
a normal conn/ops pair.
James was actually at his bridge station today, instead of doing Prophets
only knew what down in his lab. James Mitchell wa s a man Elaithin had
known
an extremely long time, and he thought with certainty - and often - that
something had significantly changed the man since he'd gone missing after
Price's shooting. The Chief Science Officer had a neutral expression
suggesting he was reading something.
Idly, the Bajoran wondered if it was that Klingon 'romance' novel that
seemed to have made it's way around the entire ship in the last three
months. 'Burning Hearts of QonoS', he thought he remembered it being
called.
Irony, given his (currently rocky) relationship with the Klingon-bred
Security Chief.
Arel Smith, now five months pregnant, still wasn't particularly showing
any
signs of it. She was standing at the Tactical board with Major Wes Hammond,
the commander of Rogue Squadron. The two were speaking slightly animatedly,
though quietly - no doubt conscious of the quiet on the bridge. Both
were
leaning on the oaken railing, so Jii had to wonder if they were discussing
tactics, or Major Rena Starburst - Arel's sister, and Hammond's fellow
Rogue. Who, scuttlebutt, had it, was currently romantically linked to
Hammond.
Cat - Doctor Felicia Khatroweena, that was - and Counselor Navarre were
also
standing off at a corner of the bridge. Jii had had a brief meeting with
Cat
not too long ago, and it looked as though the Counselor had caught the
Doctor coming out of the office. The two of them always had something
to
talk about, though Elaithin had the sneaking suspicion that the two women
enjoyed gossiping as much as their professional discussions. He'd never
have
admitted that - or pointed it out to either of them, of course.
The Captain chuckled as he saw the Chief shaking his finger at a young
Crewman, one Jii recognized as one Unger M. Poortant. Nearly curious
about
whatever the young man had done to draw the attention of Master Chief
Gabriel Mahler, former Master Chief Petty Officer of Starfleet.
Whatever it was, Poortant wouldn't likely ever do it again.
Jerri was back working on the Engineering station, having taken advantage
of
much of the long flight to have Engineering catch up on some long put-off
projects. She and Jordan still weren't talking, an event that oddly drawn
him closer to the Engineer. They spoke much more often now than they
had,
really, when she'd been his wife's best friend. He'd tried to play
peacemaker between the two of them a couple times now... But to no avail.
The frown on her face suggested she was sorting out some engineering
problem... Or perhaps just a particularly difficult crossword puzzle.
Jordan, Abigail, and T'Chani were the only members of the senior staff
not
present on the Bridge, but then, the Intelligence Officer, Diplomatic
Liaison, and Hazard Team Commander very rarely were. Generally the only
times they came up were to head to the Ready Room, Observation Lounge,
or
when something interesting was going on.
Something that certainly wasn't now.
Finally, to his right, Commander Brex was reviewing personnel reports
on the
board next to his seat. Now was as good a time to clear paperwork as
any,
Jii thought, eyeing the gregarious Bolian. Since he'd joined the crew
nearly
five months ago, Brex had done his best to unite the crew, and had brought
a
much needed uplifting attitude to the Miranda's senior staff. He was
a good
man, Jii had decided, and a first-rate Exec. The Bajoran was glad he'd
taken
Peterson's recommendation.
For what seemed like the dozenth time, Captain Elaithin tried to return
to
his own PADD. It was a ridiculously dry inventory parts report, the kind
of
thing that put even a Zakdorn to sleep. He attempted to draw his attention
back to it repeatedly (and unsuccessfully), until Taalis' strong voice
broke
the silence.
"Captain, we're coming up on Starbase 212." the helm officer
reported, a
note of relief in her voice.
"Thank the Prophets." the Bajoran muttered. "Drop us
out of warp,
'Commander."
"Aye sir." the Vulcanoid replied, and the massive Pathfinder
Class starship
slowed to sublight speeds. At just over eight hundred meters in length,
the
Miranda was one of the largest vessels in the 'Fleet - a fact that became
obvious as they entered the enormous bay door of the ever-busy Starbase
212.
"Control says to make for our usual dock." Jaxom noted, reading
commands
from Base Operations on the Ops board.
"Noted." came Taalis' reply as she started negotiating the
crowded docking
bay.
Captain Elaithin smiled slightly as the ship moved on thrusters, something
that caught the attention of his Number One.
"Something amusing, Captain?" the Bolian asked, hairless eyebrow
slightly
raised.
"Not amusing, Commander. Just a small pleasure. That ship over
there," he
said, pointing to a refitted Galaxy-Class Starship taking up another
dock
position, "that's the Galaxy herself. She was home for a very long
time
before I came to the Miranda. I'm always glad to see her safe and sound
back
here home port."
"I understand." Brex quietly replied. "I imagine I feel
much the same in
regards to the Sakharov."
"I don't doubt that you do." Jii said with a small smile as
he drew his eyes
back to his former home. She might look a little different, and there
might
be a lot of new faces aboard her.. But there was still no ship in the
'Fleet
like her.
After the ship docked, the standard orders were issued, and Miranda's
much-deserving crew began her shore leave, as Captain Elaithin and Commander
Brex headed to their debriefing. Starfleet had a great deal of questions
about this latest encounter with what had been codenamed the 'Mirror
Universe'.
---------------------------------------------------------
Vanguard One,
Starbase 212
Space
Lieutenant Corran Rex and his wingmate, Pilot Kell Tainer, whipped their
fighters speedily out of the massive field of decommissioned vessels
simply
known as 'The Graveyard'. The pair had been involved in a training sessions,
Vanguard's Commander showing their most rookie pilot the kind of complicated
flying that was required if he was ever in a major fleet wide engagement.
Sure, the Federation was at peace right now. The Trill had been around
for
five centuries, though - he knew enough to know that War was inevitable.
Someone, somewhere, would get their panties in a twist over something,
and
that would be it. He constantly hoped for better - he was in Starfleet,
after all - but he was also something of a realist. Certainly he
acknowledged that the 'verse as it currently existed wasn't the haven
of
peace, love, and harmony many wanted it to be.
Keeping an eye on Tainer, Rex sighed and his hand hit the comm. ["Two,
bring
up your starboard wing. There's some debris that you're going to hit
if you
don't."]
["Roger that."] the rookie replied, and complied. ["Thanks
Lieutenant."]
["All part of the service, Pilot."] Rex replied good naturedly
as the broke
to light cruising speed, entering the high-traffic zones of space around
the
Starbase. ["Let's back it in and return to Galaxy, Wraith. We've
had enough
training today. Besides," he smiled, spotting a familiar ship's
sensor
signature entering local space. "I want to show you something. Kick
it up
and get to the space doors."]
Breaking only a few regulations, the two starfighters sped up more than
a
tad, until they'd assumed a holding position over docking bay door two.
["Invert your ship and look up."] Rex instructed, and smiled
as he heard the
kid's response.
Below them (or above, from their perspective), the Starship Miranda
was
entering Starbase 212's immense bay doors. From this perspective the
ship
seemed to go on forever. Of course, from this perspective, so did the
Galaxy. Still, it was... Quite a site. ["Oh wow. That's a big ship."] Kell
breathed, probably unaware his comm was still on.
["I concur, Two. I served on her back in the War, under Admiral
Murdock.
Talk about your living legends. Don't know much about the new guy that's
her
Captain now, other than he used to serve on the Galaxy, I heard."] Corran
said with a chuckle. Galaxy was well known as one of a very short list
of
ships in the 'Fleet that had spawned many command officers after the
Dominion War. Enterprise, Voyager, Prometheus, Prospero and Miranda were
among the some of the others. ["Come on. Let's get back to the ship."]
["Roger that."]
"the one with the scrubbin' bubbles"
Captain Elaithin Jii
Commander K. Jordan Elaithin
----------------------------------------------------
The first thing that hit Jii when he stepped into their quarters was
the
smell of glass cleaner. It was be Saturday because Jordan had been
cleaning again. When he'd first met her, he never would have thought
of
her as a "clean freak", and especially never would have thought
of her as
fitting the domestic housewife role in anyway. But she'd surprised
him. In many ways, of course, but this one especially. Hell, he could
literally see his face in the table tops. The carpet was
clean. Everything had its place. She'd relaxed a little as Toryl made...
shall we say, impressions... in their day-to-day lives, but she was still
not beyond throwing a bit of a tantrum if things weren't done right.
The
messy bathroom incident still took the cake.
Jordan was standing in the bedroom, before the mirror, her shirt raised
slightly, studying her stomach. She bloated it out as far as she could,
poking it a few times before she let it return to normal. She then turned
the other way, examining it closer before she frowned and, letting her
shirt fall back into place, she took the cloth and wiped at a spot in
the
mirror. That was when she heard her husband enter. She practically leapt
to the door of the bedroom.
"Hey, darling dear, dear husband, darling husband of mine, how
was your
meeting?" she asked, grinning. Jii frowned. He knew she got a 'thrill'
out of cleaning, but this elation was weird, even for her.
What further amazed him was how she insisted on using a primitive
chemical solution to clean things. Then he remembered how old fashioned
her
mother was, and decided it made sense. Not for the first time, he thought
of pointing out that there were many sorts of technological doodads that
made cleaning a bit easier.
As he eyed the strangeness that was his wife, he decided - once again
-
that now was not the time. "It was fine." he finally replied. "Am
I missing
part of something here? Because I am the Captain, you know, I really
should
be informed of things." the Bajoran said teasingly.
"It's nothing, I just had an absolutely fabulous day," Jordan
said,
grinning. "I made more of those brownies you liked, if you want
some." She moved and kissed him before moving past, toward the 'kitchen'
area.
Elaithin blinked.
"Right then." he said, laying a hand on Jordan's upper arm. "Sickbay
it is."
"Hey," she said, shifting her weight. "Can't i just be
happy without being
'sick'?" She pouted at him. "You take things way too seriously.
Have a
brownie, Jii, sit down, relax a little bit." She handed him a brownie
she'd just cut before shrugging from his grasp and moving to sit on the
sofa, patting at the empty space beside her with a Stepford Wife-like
smile. "Relax a little. You're too tense, all the time. Tension's
not
good for a person. Tell me about your day."
"You're not happy. You're docile." Jii noted semi-mockingly. "It's
creepy."
Her nose wrinkled. "Sit down, bucko," she stated. "*NOW*." Then
she
resumed the grin. "Is that better?"
A thought occurred to him then, a bit farfetched, but, given recent
events,
not so much. "How do I know you're my Jordan? You could be some
evil
alternate reality double with a fascination for brownies, cooking, and
some
kind of toe fetish."
She resumed the wrinkled nose expression. "But you already know
I have all
those things," she said, "so maybe I was an evil alternative
reality double
all along, but have only now just been replaced by the real me?" She
raised an eyebrow.
"Now I think *I* need to go to sickbay."
"Jiiiiiiiiii...." she said. "Seriously. Sit *down*."
"Right then." came the reply. "What's up?
"You are no fun at all, you know that?" Jordan asked, grasping
the fabric
of his shirt and leaning her head against his shoulder, cuddling up to
him. "Don't even play along..." She sighed dramatically and
reached to
the coffee table beside her to collect the padd, taping the key with
her
thumb before she set it in her husband's hands, the blurry photograph
on
display.
"What's this?"
She leaned closer to him, wrapping her right arm around his waist as
she
used her left pinky to point. "This is Connor. And this is Aria," she
whispered, head on his shoulder.
Puzzled, Jii's eyes knitted together. Connor and Aria were names they
had
decided on for their first son and their first daughter.
After a moment, the connection was made.
And, as many men have done through the ages, Elaithin Jii turned to
face
his wife, and said, "Wha?"
"Wha?" she mimicked, brushing her right hand up his back and
into his hair,
smiling, her head still on his shoulder, eyes on the screen. "He
says 'wha'."
"You're..." he started to say, trying to wrap his head around
it. "You're
pregnant?"
"It's sure looking that way, isn't it?"
"Wow."
"So do you see why I was happy? It's about six weeks. We had to
wait, and
see... the first month is always uncertain, with the, ah... treatments
I'm
on. You Bajorans grow really fast, it's amazing. I'm already starting
to
show a little bit."
"I.." he started, shaking his head momentarily. Finally, after
a moment, he
chuckled. "All this time, and now twins."
"Well, they told us to be prepared for the possibility," Jordan
said,
standing, moving to the replicator for a glass of water.
"I didn't think they meant so soon." Jii replied, shaking
his head
slightly. "Sorry. I'm a little surprised."
"I wonder if it is something in the water, like Jaal was saying
last year
at this time." he muttered to himself somewhat absently.
Her face seemed to fall. "Are you not happy?" she asked. "I--" She
felt
her throat tighten. "Jii."
"No, no." he said, smiling and kissing her on the forehead. "I
really am,
baby. Just surprised is all."
"Yeah. I know," she said, "but something in the water?" She
took a deep
breath, steadying her emotions. "We've been trying, Jii, it's not
like
it's some, sudden thing. Besides. The difficulty wasn't getting pregnant,
you're fine, I mean, if you're not happy, if I'm forcing you into this,
I
can always just stop getting the injections and let my body take care
of
it. Easy as that."
"You can just can that line of talk right there." he replied,
and smiled
expansively. " Believe me, I'm excited. What about you?"
She moved and hugged him tightly. "I cried when Doctor Brooke told
me, I'm
so happy," she said softly. "I just can't wait for these next
seven months
to be over so we can meet them."
Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, Jii felt a lot happier than
he had
in awhile. They had Toryl, true, but his son had been found at fourteen
-
Jii hadn't even known about him, as he'd been orphaned most of his life.
Getting a fourteen year old wasn't anything like starting with a new
life
at the beginning - let alone two new lives.
She clasped the material of his uniform jacket in her fists. "I
just hope
nothing goes wrong," she whispered. "I've been walking around
on pins and
needles hoping that nothing would, that it would not be like the other
times." She moved and rested her hands on the sides of his face. "Jii,
we're going to have babies. I'm going to be someone's 'mummie'." She
kissed him softly, then rested her head on his chest. "What were
you doing
at the starbase?" she asked, suddenly shifting the subject.
"Standard debrief." the Captain replied, his tone shifting
slightly as
they discussed this little bit of business. "Brex and I actually
had to be
questioned by Temporal Investigations. Seems alternate universe incidents
fall under their jurisdiction now."
"Oi," was Jordan's response. "Sounds like fun. Temporal
relations makes
my head hurt." She moved away from him and reseated herself, laying
across
the couch, her head on one arm, her feet on the other. "I say just
move on
and forget that ever happened."
"I think I concur." he said quietly. "This is a much
nice place."
"a nice surprise for a change"
by
Koen as James A. Brooke
Finally they were back at the starbase. Brooke had not that much trouble
with
the mirror universe thing, and he was glad he hadn't. He also didn't
want to
go back there if possible. Right now he was compiling a list of equipment
and
supplies they needed, so it was easier for the starbase people to give
it to
them. And the easier the starbase people had it, the faster and the more
accurate they would process your order, so that's why he was doing it.
Cat was on the bridge at the moment, something she didn't do all that
often.
Brooke had kept an eye on her for the trip back, and while she seemed
okay, he
knew that there were still traces of emotional pain that were not fully
healed
yet, and somehow he doubted that they all would. She had come a long
way, but
he felt like there was still a while to go.
The chirp of the comm interupted his thoughts. He opened the channel
on his
desktop monitor to see one of the security people, petty officer. Behind
the
NCO he could see the entrance to the starbase, so cleary they had already
docked.
"Lieutenant, we have here two Vulcans who want to speak to you," the
NCO said,
"doctors S'Tak and Ranil, both from the Vulcan Medical Academy."
"Have them send to my office, will you," Brooke said. He remembered
the name
S'Tak from that conference he had attended what seemed like ages ago.
It took ten minutes before the two Vulcans stepped into his office.
"Goodmorning," Brooke said, "Please, sit down. Nice to see
you again, Dr.
S'Tak. What brings you here?"
"You do, Dr. Brooke," the eldest of the two Vulcans said, "we
have come to
deliver you the Vulcan Medical Academy Award of Excellence. The ceremony
where
we invite all the people who have gotten the medal during the past year
was two
months ago, a ceremony you were unable to attend."
"That's right," Brooke said, "we were on a mission at
the moment. I haven't
even recieved the invitation, so clearly there's also a problem with
communications. But why did I get this medal?"
"For your work with the P'Ton t'mac," the younger, Dr. Ranil,
said, "after your
article, both Dr. S'Tak and myself started using your method, and while
it has
taken a while, the results have shown other Vulcan doctors that the method
has
it's merits, and it was only logical that they started using it too."
"And we've discovered that when we use your method together with
a mindmeld, we
even get better results," S'Tak said.
"Very nice," Brooke said, "but you didn't have to come all
the way from Vulcan
just to deliver a medal. You could have had it sent over."
"We had to come here anyway," S'Tak said, "there's a medical
conference on the
starbase starting tomorrow, and we wanted to attend. Your ship's arrival
here
was planned during this congress, so it was decided to visit you here."
"Thank you," Brooke said, "and I'll look up the program
of the congres. I
didn't know there was going to be one."
Ranil took out a black box and put it on the table.
"Here it is, Dr. Brooke," he said, "it is not much, but
it is our appreciation
for your work."
"It's enough," Brooke said, "if it saves lifes, or makes
them better."
He took the box and opened it, to find a small datapad and a medal. On
the
datapad was the citation for it.
"Thank you," Brooke said, "if you would like, I can give
you a tour of the
facility here. I presume you have much more to work with, but space is
always
at a premium on a starship."
"I'm sorry," Dr. S'Tak said, "but we have arranged a teleconference
in an hour,
so we should be going back."
"I'll bring you to the docking port," Brooke said, standing
up, "and perhaps I
see you on the conference. Depending on the program, both of the congres
and
the ship, I'll try ot visit some lectures."
He also made a note to all the other doctors that there was a congres,
so they
could go too. Then he took his Vulcan guests to the docking port, before
heading to his quarters.
"Reinstated"
Lieutenant Corran Rex
Vanguard One
Flight Officer T'Shani A'Akledorian
Vanguard Three
----------
** USS Galaxy, Docked at Starbase 212 **
=^= Deck 39: T'Shani's Quarters =^=
The Andorian woman sat cross-legged on her meditation mat as the mighty
blade of her chaka rested on her lap, a small ruby beam of laser
etching it's mark on the once-empty spot she had shown Cassius, almost
three months ago.
Thumbing the beam off, she removed the protective goggles from her
eyes, while gently brushing the slag from the new inscription, telling
the tale of her blade's final wield during the mission to reclaim the
USS Hellfire. Now, it had only to be wrapped, and be presented to its
*new* owner...
*****
Tish placed the blade and laser-etcher to the side, while getting up
from her mat. Carefully, she picked up the blade from the floor and
held it in her hands. Slowly, respectfully, she turned it once more in
her hands, while reading all of the inscriptions of all of the battles
the mighty blade had won, in the name of the Great Clan of A'Akledor.
She placed it on the royal-purple wrapping cloth - inscribed with her
Clan's crest - and solemnly wrapped it from blade to hilt, covering it
in neat half-folds, while offering an incantation to Umarin, to watch
over the blade and the fate of her clan.
tying the package off with a golden-corded rope at the hilt, she placed
the finished package on the shelf, next to her bed. Sighing, Tish undid
the knot of her Grandmaster's robe, shucking it off and down her back
to catch it, and hang it on a hook next to her nightstand.
As she stood there, naked, she caught her reflection in the
holo-mirror. It was...not her...was it? The same thoughts that she had
when arriving on the transport to Lammergier, and seeing her haggard
reflection, surfaced again. ~What has happened to me?~ she queried her
mind, but it did not return an answer.
She sighed, while snatching some clothing from off her bed. As she
pulled the top over her head, she spoke aloud to the computer. "Begin
recording personal log, insert stardate."
The distinctive three-chord chirp emanated from the computer,
indicating
that her log was now being recorded.
"Well," she sighed, while flopping onto her bed, "I'm
back. On the
Galaxy, that is. After all that we went through, Al'indal *suggested*
that I remain on board the Galaxy, as a member of Vanguard Squadron,
since I *enjoy* flying so much. As our wing got back from the Battle
of
Lammergier, I wasn't looking forward to seeing Rex again. No doubt, he
would be more than happy to rub-in the fact that I was back..."
--------------------------------------------------
Two Weeks Prior: After the Battle of Lammergier...
--------------------------------------------------
=^= Deck 39: Tactical Shuttlebay Flight Deck =^=
[Forgehammer, you are now locked-down and secured. Shut-down your drive
systems and disembark at your leisure. Flight Control, out.]
T'Shani sighed, and shut down her Banzai fighter. She'd have to talk
to the Sargent about getting her 'new' fighter re-calibrated for her
tastes. Or maybe, she'd do it herself.
After making sure everything was locked-down, shut-off, and secure,
she
popped the canopy, and removed her flight-helmet.
"Welcome back, Ma'am!" someone called from below her fighter.
Unfastening her crash harness, she leaned out the left side of her
cockpit to see a ruddy-looking man in an NCO's flight deck jumpsuit
wheel a ladder to her fighter.
"Who the hell are you?" she asked, as she removed her 'start'
card from
Vanguard Three's panel.
"I'm your new Flight Mechanic, Ma'am," he replied, while securing
the
ladder to the receptacle on her fighter.
Tish looked the man over, cocked an antenna, shrugged, then wheeled
her leg out of the cockpit, climbing down the ladder.
As she made deck fall, she looked him over, once again: Terran,
mid-thirties. Husky build - yet not overweight. A little under two
meters tall with sandy-brown hair, brown eyes, and fair complexion. She
glanced at his rank...three chevrons ~Technical Sargent~
"And you would be Technical Sargent...?
He paused, started to stutter, then composed himself, standing at
attention. "T-Technical Sargent Peter St. Valentine, Lead Flight
Mechanic - First Class, ma'am."
A thin smile crossed Tish's lips, but suddenly vanished again, as she
started walking out of Vanguard Three's hangar stall. "Quite the
patronage of Saints in your lineage, Mister St. Valentine," she
said
evenly.
Pete broke from attention to trail behind her. "Um...yes, ma'am," he
gulped as he couldn't help but give a quick glance to Flight Officer
A'Akledorian's features, accentuated by the form-fitting flight suit.
~Not too...~
"OW! Watch where you're going, Mister!" Tish yelped as she
abruptly
stopped, causing Pete to run straight into her backside. "What in
the
name of Umarin do you think you're doing, Mister?!" she yelled at
him,
her face turning purple and antenna flexing.
"M-my apologies, Flight Officer. I should just get to your fighter,
then, ma'am," Pete said, while trying not to blush.
Normally, she would have ripped this *asshole* a new one, but she was
worn-out from the fight, and just wanted a nice, hot shower. *If* she
had quarters, that was.
"Alright. Get out of here, Mister St. Valentine. The Number Two
inertial damper went offline in the battle. Fix it. Also, clean up the
hull, would you?" she turned smartly on her heel.
He was just about to respond, when she turned back.
"Oh, and get my damned call sign on the side! I'll be back down
here in three hours, and want to go through some other adjustments. I
expect you to have the other items taken care of, by then. Understood?"
He opened his mouth to reply, but she beat him to it. "Good." Tish
whirled away from him, toward the women's locker room. Hopefully, she
could undress and shower in peace, *without* Angelienia or Nani bugging
her.
Peter just shrugged, rolled his eyes, and saluted her, behind her back.
He then turned back to his flight crew. He *knew* he should have stayed
on the Arizona...
*****
Lieutenant Corran Rex pulled off his helmet and sat in the cockpit of
Vanguard One for a few moments, observing his squadron winding down
from the furball that had occurred not too very long ago. They were
wound tight, but they had done him proud - not a single loss.
And somehow, T'Shani was flying back with the Squadron. He hadn't been
on the Asteroid that long.. But then, as any fighter pilot knew, one's
whole universe could change in an instant.
Watching the Andorian pilot chew out St. Valentine, the Trill chuckled
to himself. Wherever she'd gone, whatever she'd done, obviously it
hadn't changed her too much.
~Maybe you should find out exactly how much.~ Vorrin commented.
~A comment from you Vorrin, that's neither sarcastic nor puerile? I'm
shocked and awed.~ Corran returned with a mental smirk.
~Can it, kid. You and I both know you're concerned about her. So go
ask.~
~Alright, fair. Don't go making a habit of being right, though.~
~I'll see what I can do.~
The Lieutenant decided to wait until she was done in the locker room,
to give her some cool down time. Besides, he needed a shower - and the
chance to shake off the hangover that was brewing.
*****
The two pilots finished about the same time, oddly enough, and Rex
locked eyes with T'Shani as she exited, tilting his head towards his
office.
"<Rhooz>," she swore, under her breath. She knew she'd
have to report
to Lieutenant Rex some time, or another, but she had been hoping she
could at least avoid him for the time being.
~No such luck.~
Instead, she quelled her anxiety, and fell in line behind Rex, who
walked out of the fighter bay, into his office.
The Trill sat down behind his desk - still awed a little at times that
he was now the Squadron Commander. Leadership was nothing new to the
Rex
symbiont, but the least several months aside, it was certainly new to
Corran. In the past, he'd been content just to be a pilot. Sometime
rather recently, he'd come to the idea that he'd rather be the one
giving the orders.
Funny old 'verse, wasn't it?
Tish nearly smirked. ~No, he hasn't changed, one bit,~ she thought to
herself, as he propped his booted feet onto his desk, as usual. ~But
then, why *would* he, Tish?~ she questioned herself. ~Just because
you've...~ NO.....she shook the thought away. She *did not* want to
relive that, again.
Instead of saying anything, she merely stood there, awaiting whatever
*wise words* Lieutenant Corran Rex had to say to her.
"So are you going to talk about it?" he asked, without preamble
after
studying the Andorian woman for a moment.
She arched her antennas, in surprise. She certainly wasn't expecting
a
question like *that* from her once-former-now-again CO. "Wh-what,
sir?" she stammered out, quietly.
"You, T'Shani. Whatever you just went through, it's had an effect.
Your body language is different, you look like you might have lost some
weight,and you're a slightly paler shade of blue. This is not to
mention that you've acquired a thousand-yard stare that wasn't there
before." Corran noted, in a tone that acknowledged the fact that
both
pilots knew he was right.
"How did you...?" she trailed off as Rex waved his hand at
her.
"Well, five centuries tends to rack up the observational skills." he
noted wryly. "The big tell was your piloting out there. You were
far
more...conservative than I'd have believed you capable of. You didn't
take the risks you would have before your...'leave'."
Tish sighed as she pulled up a chair opposite Rex. For the first time,
she actually sat down in his office. "It's complicated, and...mostly
classified, sir." leaning back into the chair, "I...I can't...I
can't
talk about it, Rex..." she paused, as if she wanted to say more,
but
quickly shrugged the thought away.
He snorted. "Classified just means that somewhere, somebody is
embarrassed about it. It also means that the bartender at Starfleet
Command finds out about it before anyone below the rank of Admiral
does."
Tish actually almost laughed, in return...*almost*. ~Try telling Tanner
Houghton that.~ she thought silently, while eying Rex.
"Look," he said, pulling his feet down from the desk and leaning
forward. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,
T'Shani. But if you do, I'm here. That door's always open. And I am
someone who's been there."
"Hmmph..." she ungraciously snorted. "*You've* been *there*,
huh? I
don't think so," she started to get up from her seat to leave. ~The
nerve of this guy! He hasn't even...~ she quelled her thoughts, before
they made her do something she'd regret.
"You didn't think all my missions during the War were completely
above
the table, did you?" he said with a small laugh. "I was with
Rogue
Squadron on the Miranda, which was flagship of the Second Fleet at the
time. Believe me, I saw plenty of things I'd rather not have. That's
not counting the admittedly sporadic memories I've got from past
hosts."
That last statement made her pause, however. Sitting back down, she
crossed her legs, while studying her CO, again. There was just
something in the way he had said *it*...it clicked in her mind. "You
have Trex's, don't you?" she asked plaintively.
"I do," he admitted with a nod. "I'm surprised this is
news -
scuttlebutt's had it all over the ship since I came aboard last year."
Tish sighed, "You forget...I haven't *been* on board for a while,
sir,"
she growled, annoyed that she had missed that detail. ~Well, that
explains alot.~ Especially what she'd heard about the 'Vorrin'
character. Glad the subject was off her, for the moment, "So, how
many?"
~Oops,~ she cringed, ~Not too tactful...~
"How many what?"
She shook her head, realizing that it was none of her business, in the
first place, and that she was out of line, for asking. "Never mind,
sir."
Chewing on her lip, she curled her antennas and looked around, before
pulling a data chip from her pocket. "Here, sir. My reinstatement
orders...if you'll have them," she said softly, while passing the
chip
to Rex.
Sensing her return to a professional attitude, Rex accepted the chip.
"Welcome back to the Vanguards, Flight Officer." he said, a genuine
warmth in his voice. He was a loss to explain why, since he still
didn't trust her, but the Trill was genuinely glad to have T'Shani
back.
She stood. "Thank you, sir," she formed herself to attention,
saluting
crisply.
"Anytime."
She turned, as if to go, and paused...
"Something else, T'Shani?" Corran raised an eyebrow, wondering
if she'd
break that silence now.
"Sir...maybe...maybe someday....I can tell you. In the meantime,
just
trust that I've got your back," she turned back, slowly, tiredly,
and
made her way out of Rex's office.
"That's what a squadron-mate does, T'Shani." he said quietly
as she
left.
"Docking Manuevers"
Lieutenant JG Mack Turner
Engineer at Large (USS Miranda)
-----------
The last three months, after the 'Mirror Universe' incident, had been
(put mildly)...*BORING*.
Not that there wasn't always *something* to do, on a starship: relays
that needed relaying, coils that needed recoiling, wires that needed
wiring...
~It's all so *routine*~ he thought, as he felt the slightest of
vibrations through the deck plating of Main Engineering. A vibration
only an engineer knew: the Miranda had fallen out of warp.
Looking around from his post at the Master Situation Monitor (or
'Pooltable' as it was more-commonly called), he watched his fellow
crewmates as they went about their work. Commander Dawson and the
pretty Trill, Lieutenant JG Devan, were near the reactor, going over
a
PADD of some sort of data...Walsh and Relgiez were joking with each
other near the coolant feeds...Master Chief McBlades was chewing out
some hapless ratings who'd dropped a hyperspanner from the deck
overhang, above.
Alot had happened to them, in the last six months, than anything he'd
ever experienced, before. He considered each one of them 'family'...
even Jerri, though she could be a bit parsnickity about *her* engines.
It seemed in Engineering, at least, they had been through alot. From
Tribbles to mindswaps, Arkedians to insurrection and the Mirror
Universe. He had never dreamed he'd have such experiences, only a year
ago, when he was stationed at the ASDB.
~My god...~ Mack realized that it *had*, indeed, been a full year that
he had been onboard the USS Miranda. How time flew...
Mack's head shot up, as the automated Bos'n's whistle sounded, followed
by the voice of the 'Exec', Commander Brex.
[All hands, prepare for docking manuevers.]
Dawson turned and starting shouting out general orders to the
engineering staff, since the Queen Bee was up on the Bridge.
Mack's job was pretty simple: engage the auxiliary engineering support
feeds from the starbase, as they connected their umbilicals to the
Miranda's superstructure hardpoints. While he finished, he listened to
the organized commotion around him...
"Impulse deck, prepare to switch primary reactors to cold-standby..."
"Warp core is locked-down and secure, sir..."
"Warp field grilles and focus-rectifiers have been flushed..."
"RCS thrusters at maximum output..."
"Standby for umbilical interface..."
...and so-on.
Mack sighed again, as the last of the mighty Pathfinder's core systems
were either shut down, or put on standby cycle. As the shift wound
down, Mack found himself looking forward to a nice, hot, *long*
shower...then some sleep. He had pulled a double, and needed to get
some sleep.
That, and he needed to talk to the Quartermaster about getting
reassigned quarters...although Ensign Jonran was a pretty good man, he
*did* have some...*strange*...habits.
~Oh, well...~ he thought tiredly, as he exited Main Engineering for
a
turbolift. Getting in, he wished - once again - that Brellan was still
aboard...
"Shop Till You Drop"
Cmdr. Arel Smith (USS Miranda)
Lt. Ella Grey (USS Galaxy)
*****
Arel Smith hated to shop.
Shopping made her tense, irritable, and hostile, nothing that the crew
of
the USS Miranda was unused to admittedly.
The stores usually had nothing that she wanted and the things she did
want
were usually in the wrong colors, like puke-y baby pink, or were
outrageously priced. And the salesmen were pushy.
Or they were Ferengi. Both of which got on her nerves.
But her stomach was slowly expanding, not that it was noticeable yet,
and
Arel's wardrobe was pretty limited. It wouldn't be long before she'd
wake up
one morning and not be able to wear anything she owned.
And so, Arel Smith found herself scowling as she walked by the stores
of
starbase, wondering what it would be like when she got so incredibly
fat
that she would have to waddle throughout the decks of the Miranda in
her
maternity clothes.
This line of thinking, naturally, didn't help improve her mood any.
But then
nothing really improved her mood lately, which Arel had to admit had
been
less than pleasant.
Not that it was entirely her fault though. If Starfleet hadn't decided
to
recruit every idiot, moron, and asshole that applied to it, making her
have
to interact with these pthaks on a daily basis, then she was sure her
mood
would have been at its normal level of likable surliness.
And if James Mitchell would suddenly fall down a empty turbolift shaft,
with
sharp spikes waiting to impale him at the bottom, Arel was sure that
she
would be the most sweet tempered Terran in the universe.
In fact, his persistent refusal to simply drop dead, since Arel had
sworn an
oath that she couldn't kill him herself, was more at fault then her temper.
So when the officers in her department began to complain about her mood
swings lately, Arel had told them to blame James Mitchell for not being
more
cooperative.
Several officers were seriously thinking about petitioning Commander
Mitchell to at least *pretend* to fall down and seriously injure himself
so
that Arel would stop snapping at them.
Wimps, she thought.
Arel walked around inside the first shop that caught her eye and then
picked
several items without trying them on. In essence, they were six pairs
of
shirts and pants, all increasing in size, and all in brown, black, or
green.
She also bought a little red pajama set for Korvin, which she assured
herself was not cute, and scruffy looking teddy bear that reminded her
of
her toy cat, Fecklar.This was for her cat to have fun shredding to pieces.
And then, ignoring the awesome red knee-high boots that were on display
in
the corner, she selected a pair of fuzzy black slippers, telling herself
that it was an acceptable purchase as long as no one ever saw her in
them.
The security officer towed all this up to the front of the store and
was
about to get in line when she was cut off by a big burly Terran man who
literally shoved her out of the way. Her items fell to the floor and
Arel
glared back at the man.
He smirked back in a 'whatcha going to do about it' fashion that reminded
her of Mitchell.
Arel's eyes narrowed.
*****
Ella Grey loved to shop.
Shopping was a way to relieve tension and irritation (both caused by
Victor
Krieghoff) and general boredom. It was also a slightly childish way to
get
back at her parents for years of misery by spending their credits.
Of course, in the spirit of her father's birthday, Ella was trying to
be
more sensible with her purchases. That was why she only had eight bags
with
her so far when she normally would have had about ten. She just had to
have
the strappy blue shoes she saw a few stores back.
And the red backless dress.
And the purple two-piece bathing suit.
And the purse for Laura.
And those earrings for Indigo.
And so on.
Ella's mouth almost twitched into a smile but then she remembered that
she
was supposed to be 'Poor Mute Ella' for the shopkeeper. The first couple
of
shops had been disappointing. There no playing upon the sympathies of
Ferengi or Klingon merchants; they just didn't give a shit. But this
salesman was human and Ella estimated it would take about five minutes
tops
for her to get him to lower the price of the Andorian silk dress she
just
had to own.
She pantomimed that she couldn't speak for the man, her blue eyes wide
and
innocent. It also didn't hurt that a couple of the buttons on her shirt
had
come undone.
I'm just a poor mute girl, Ella thought. Life's dealt me out a shitty
hand,
mister, so why don't you sell me that dress for 50% off?
She even pouted out her lip a bit.
Three minutes and twenty seconds later, they had made a deal for 40%
off and
Ella tried not to gloat too much over her victory as the salesman wrapped
the dress for her. Which was when a loud voice from a few checkstands
over
caught her attention.
"I was here first, you bloody pthak." A pretty woman was saying.
"No, you weren't." The man replied in a rather unwitty parry.
Ella watched the pair with interest, as people watching was her favorite
hobby next to shopping. The man towered over the woman, not that she
was
short, and looked like a character from the bars of one of Victor's training
holoprograms. Tattoo's rounded his upper arms and neck and he had muscles
the size of small boulders. His hair was long, black, and oily and he
had a
large scar running unattractively across his face.
The woman appeared unafraid. In fact, if anything, she looked about
ready to
start a fight. Her fists were closed and there was a definite gleam in
her
eye. Ella had seen that look before. This was a woman not to be messed
with,
even if she looked like a model.
"And, even if I did, what do you think you could do about it?" The
man said
to her with a sneer.
Another man suddenly appeared a bit behind the woman and began waving
his
arms and shaking his head in a universal sign for 'No, dude, baaaaaad
idea.
Don't even go there.' He was in a security uniform and, since Ella knew
a
lot of the security officers onboard the Galaxy, she assumed he was from
the
USS Miranda.
The badass in the line either didn't see him or didn't care.
"You think I couldn't take you?" The woman asked with steel
in her voice.
The man who had been trying to warn the badass groaned and shook his
head.
He came to stand beside Ella. The engineer raised her eyebrow and pointed
at
the pair.
"That's Arel Smith, Chief of Security for the Miranda." The
officer told
her. "I don't know him but he's about to be crying for his mother."
The badass looked down at Arel Smith and laughed. To be fair, Arel,
at first
glance, didn't look like a challenge. She had long brown hair and blue-green
eyes. She looked like a woman, not a security officer and definitely
not a
threat. But there was also something in those blue-green eyes, Ella thought.
And she definitely was not in a submissive stance.
Ella decided that this Arel Smith could indeed 'take him'.
"What you?" The badass said. "You're a little...curvy
ain't you?"
The man was referring to the fact that she had breasts (even though
Ella
couldn't help but compare herself to Arel and decide that her breasts
were
bigger and therefore better) and was a woman and therefore couldn't possibly
beat him.
Arel Smith decided to take it another way. She blinked at the man and
then
said in a cool tone, her eyes are hard as ice, "So...you're saying
I'm fat?"
Since the beginning of time, in the long history of the universe(s),
there
had never, to Ella's knowledge, been one male who had been able to answer
that question to the satisfaction of a woman.
Ella's eyebrow shot up, the officer beside her groaned audibly, and
the
badass looked like he had just realized that he may have been in big
trouble. He blinked and then chose one of the safest and time honored
ways
of answering the question.
"Huh?"
It all went downhill from there. The Chief of Security proved to be
very
capable and outright vicious fighter and before three minutes and twenty
seconds were up, the badass lay on the floor, his nose and other parts
bleeding or broken. He was, indeed, crying softly for his mother.
Arel Smith glared at the crowd around her. "Anyone else wanna cut
if front
of me?" The crowd backed away quickly and Arel's eyes met Ella's.
Ella gave her a thumbs up.
Arel smiled faintly and grabbed her items off the floor and took them
to the
counter.
"Unexpected, Part I"
ON USS MIRANDA
Lieutenant JG Mack Turner
-----------
=^= Deck 6: Mack and Stel's Quarters =^=
*BEEP...BEEP...BEEP*
"Computer, Time?"
[The time is nineteen-hundred fourteen]
Four hours...only four hours. That's all the sleep he'd gotten. For
some reason, he just couldn't get to sleep. Something had woken him...
*BEEP...BEEP...BEEP*
He rolled over, reaching for his VISOR, on the nightstand. Snapping
it
into place, he looked over to the computer terminal on his desk...
*BEEP...BEEP...BEEP*
Throwing his sheets off, Mack padded over to the terminal, noting that
Stel - wherever he had gone to - was still not back. As soon as the
Miranda had docked, the Kless'ine had informed Mack that he had
'business' to attend to; whatever *that* meant.
Thumbing the blinking button on the screen, Mack noted that he had a
new unread message in his Inbox...
>SENDER SUBJECT STARDATE SIZE
>
Samuel Turner Stop by for a Visit! 50406.8 2 KB
~Huh?~ Mack wondered, half-awake. He opened the message...
>Hey Mack! >
>I see your ship is in town. We're over at Docking Berth Thirteen. Why
>don't you get your sorry ass over here, and come and visit me! Plus,
>San'X says she'll make some of that Rigellian Cream Fudge that you
>(and I) like! So, do it for your big brother, at least, okay?
> >Your Bro,
> >Sam (aka, The More Handsome One)
Mack 'blinked' once, trying to make sense of Sam's message. 'I see your
ship is...'
Suddenly, it *clicked*. Mack closed his Inbox, while accessing Starbase
212's Berthing Manifest. Quickly, he scrolled through the list:
>SHIP NAME REGISTRY CLASS BERTH
>Challenger, USS NCC-71099 Galaxy 07-B
>Discovery, USS NCC-89504 Nova (II) 12-A
>Galaxy, USS NCC-70637-A Galaxy (II) 14-A
>Miranda, USS NCC-77000-B Pathfinder 03-C
>Republic, USS NCC-95097 Excalibur (II) 13-A
>Tomahawk, USS NCC-60013 Cheyenne 14-C
>Yorktown, USS NCC-1717-C Sovereign 09-B
Mack paused, then did a double take...~The Republic is *here*?~ Now
it
made sense! His brother's ship was in port, here! Rushing over to
closet, he pulled on a new pair of undergarments, uniform, socks and
boots, before quickly walking out of the room...
***TBC***
"Dogs of War"
By
Captain Daren M'Kantu,
Commanding Officer,
USS Galaxy
***
Captain's Quarters
Deck 8
USS Galaxy
Docked at Starbase 212
Beta shift settled into the evening hours morosely. The environmental
lighting turned down for the artificial sunset automatically. This was
fine
for Daren. It reflected his exhaustion in the previous mission; the Gryphon
project had failed mightily. The Galaxy, appointed safety guardian of
the
settlement in its recent history of volatile activity, had failed in
its
designated duties of protector.
Oddly enough, and for this, Daren brought his fingers together while
easing
back upon his leather-backed slim recliner, Starfleet and the Federation
had
dismissed the Galaxy's inactive involvement in the matter as any sense
of
failure. The inquiry report had arrived this morning, a fair three days
after the initial investigation. It was too speedy. Far too expeditious.
Politics in itself took weeks to even find a point of entry in any
committee. It exuded a rushed sense of being swept under a rug.
Such was the apparent nature of these 'Hawks' now in unbalanced power
of the
Federation. Uncaring of these outer rim territories. They weren't a threat
enough to take serious. Lieutenant Ka'ranin's geological report had stated
a rather fortuitous supply of an array of minerals in large quantities.
Enough to have fueled the Federation's Starfleet for quite a while. The
Hawk faction wont be able to continue ramping up their shipyarding without
the materials to build them, and this incident will not go un-noticed.
Costs will rise, and this independent will likely not be the first to
sever
ties with the Federation.
M'Kantu was not a diplomat, though. Not one of consequence anyhow. He
would have to wait.
Leaning forward, he lifted the ceramic mug that had resided on the low-cut
coffee table, a faint ring of light tan left behind on the glass coaster.
Sipping at the now luke-warm Tanzania tea, he reviewed the duty manifest.
Cassius Henderson would normally perform these rather mundane duties
as XO,
but he was on leave for another 6 days retrieving Rima Pennington, who'd
gone AWOL previous to the Gryphon mission.
The XO had a lot of growing up to do. This would most likely be his
last
chance after the seriousness of the reprimands on his file.
Curtis Geluf had requested and been granted personal leave for the next
2
months. Apparently a situation had arisen on Kerelia of great import.
Geluf's father was fairly high-seated in government, and requested through
official Federation diplomatic channels for his son to be present. This
gave Daren the odd feeling the ramifications of Gryphon extended farther
than first thought. Colby Elliott, the foul-mouthed Assistant Chief,
would
be Acting Chief upon Geluf's return. Daren silently hoped they didn't
encounter any touchy races in the meantime.
Janelle Reynolds, the quiet Chief Medical Officer he hadn't interacted
much
with, had requested leave shortly after Dr. Giardini's transfer off the
Galaxy.
Sub-Commander Savar tr'Khellian, Acting Chief Tactical Officer, was
an
enigma. Brooding, snappish, not well-liked amongst the crew for his obvious
Romulan - Rihannsu, to be politically correct - heritage. Romulan is
a
derogatory term, apparently.
At the behest of the Diplomatic Corps, the Cultural Exchange Program
(Starfleet Intelligence. No one said they were bright in deflecting their
grasp on various branches of government), the sub-Commander would stay
on-board. His close ties with the Tal Shiar operative Atole Tekri on
the
Galaxy is a source of information that has Intelligence chomping at the
bit.
Commander Corgan, Galaxy's Chief Security Officer, had been relentlessly
submitting requests for an 'emergency response' team. Seeing as the
situations in both retrieving Admiral Valerian earlier this year, and
the
less than efficient response time at Gryphon, Daren was inclined to permit
this request, even if it went against his very nature of going against
the
mandate of an exploration vessel in theory. He keyed in a request from
the
Security Chief for a more in-depth analysis of the unit and what it would
entail.
Jeremy Savoie and Elijah Faraal both had departed the ranks of the Galaxy,
which left the navigation department without a senior staff member to
represent them. Cameron Bartlett would replace them in the meantime.
He
had an exemplary record, and more than enough experience until a replacement
could be found. If push came to shove, Lieutenant Rex and his Vanguard
Squadron could provide temporary relief.
Counselor Dallas had submitted a request for Legate Curran to be ordered
to
counseling since he had not voluntarily submitted himself over the last
three days. Sighing, M"Kantu penned a reminder to the Legate of
his promise
to visit Lieutenant Lywhyn of his situation else he not be re-instated,
CCing the Commander in the process.
Curran himself had barricaded himself away in his quarters for the last
three days. Not a soul had seen or heard from him in that timespan, and
only the sensors reporting his lifesigns within proved he was still with
the
living. Records how he was receiving his messages, but not returning
them.
He made a mental note to visit him personally as soon as all this paperwork
was complete.
Commander Suder, the Betazoid Chief Engineer, was suspiciously
quiet. His
reports on ship repairs were succinct, terse, and efficient. Something
was
not par for the course with the engineer, but there was not enough
to investigate.
Finally, Cora Dobryin would be replacing Saladin Bolivar as Chief
Intelligence Officer. Ahdjiia D'Tinya had been killed in the line of
duty
at Gryphon, of which she was awarded the Federation Star posthumously.
Major Bolivar had then departed the Galaxy with their child, born
prematurely due to her early death, and the body of his wife for parts
unknown.
"Computer, enter the following personnel changes into the duty
roster."
[Working]
"Dobryin, Cora, promoted to Lieutenant, Junior Grade and Chief
Intelligence
Officer of the USS Galaxy. Assign Beta Two Security Access and Level
3
Data Access levels to her immediately. Command Authorization
M'Kantu-quatro-theta-four."
[Authorization accepted. Duty Roster updated]
"Manifest update. Delete D'Tinya, Ahdjiia. Bolivar, Saladin. Savoie,
Jeremy. Giardini, William. Faraal, Elijah. Dhar, Ban. Biessman, Robert."
[Updated]
"Manifest update. Add Iniara, Tarin. Operations Officer. Level
Two Data
Access, Delta Two security access until Curtis Geluf is reactivated."
[Updated]
"Computer, the following personnel are to have their personnel
files updated
and their department heads informed."
[Working]
"Krieghoff, Victor. Awarded the Starfleet Cross for actions performed
at
Gryphon." Daren scrolled to his personal agenda on the padd and
entered a
note for interview with Krieghoff. This medal threw the proverbial wrench
into his transfer.
"Ka'ranin, Cutter. So'ka. Hanley, Paul. Dobryin, Cora. Awarded
the
Nebula Star for same reasons."
[Updated]
"Computer, end changes." The computer whistled, signifying
closure.
Perfectly fine with Daren. Lightly pitching the padd into the remaining
piles as he passed the kitchen table that housed them, he poured the
remainder of his tea down the sink in the kitchen.
These last few missions had exhausted him. He sincerely hoped his request
for extended shore leave would be accepted, followed by a nice boring
exploration mission. He never thought he'd miss the boredom of mapping
anomalies.
With the monstrous Pathfinder class Miranda hanging off to port inside
Starbase 212 with Galaxy, M'Kantu didn't feel the ominous chant of action
and adventure calling him next.
Yes, a nice long survey of a nebula would be sweet indeed...
(takes place sometime after 'Permission Granted')
"Immortal Movie Stars"
By
T'Pol (8-ball) Hunter
8-ball sat on her floor and stared at the wall. She did this for a long
time.
Eventually, she she stood up and stared down at the floor. It didn't
tell
her any secrets that the wall didn't reveal.
Everything was silent.
She found herself standing over next to the replicator with a cup of
tea in
her hands. She didn't really remember walking over to the replicator
and
asking for the tea but since the evidence was steaming away while grasped
between her fingers, 8-ball figured that was what she must have done.
That
was logical, after all.
8-ball smiled dully. She had thought the 'L' word and not even shuddered
at
all. Logical. Hmmm.
Things must have been pretty bad.
She drank a sip of the tea, remembered that she couldn't stand tea and
had
never understood what people saw in it that was comforting and fulfilling,
threw out the tea, and went back to sitting on the floor.
8-ball knew this shouldn't be affecting her like this. She had only
met the
woman once. Sure, she'd been nice, friendly, an interesting, prospective
date if she hadn't been married and with children, but it wasn't like
8-ball
and Ahdjiia D'Tinya were best buddies or anything. 8-ball hadn't seen
the
woman after she had met up with her in a bar and talked about various
serious things liked borg sexuality. 8-ball had barely even thought about
her. . .until Ahdjiia was killed in the line of the duty and 8-ball knew
there would never be a conversation with the woman again because she
wasn't
just gone; she was dead. Just like that.
It wasn't like a person dying was a new experience for 8-ball. Her father
had died in a shuttle accident when she was twelve and 8-ball had been
devestated, which felt stupid to even think to herself. What child wouldn't
have been devestated to lose the only parent they'd ever really known?
But
8-ball had managed to pick up the pieces somehow, probably through pure
fury
at the idea of having to living with her mother back on the Vulcan
homeworld. Then she ran away and lived with Big Man at the bar and learned
poker and pool and how to drink any interstellar trucker under the table
and
Big Man became like a second father to her. 8-ball smiled bitterly at
the
thought. The second 8-ball had come to think of Big Man as a father,
she
should have known what was to happen next. Certainly anyone watching
the
movie that was her life would have. But 8-ball hadn't been prepared for
the
big fight that emerged that night and she hadn't been prepared to watch
Big
Man die, a shard from a beer bottle sticking out of his throat.
Death wasn't new. But 8-ball picked up the pieces and moved on again
and
never really connected the idea that what happened to her father and
what
happened to Big Man would someday happen to her. Someday, death wasn't
going to be something she was going to have to live through. Someday,
death
was going to steal that life from her.
Because the truth was that 8-ball often thought of her life as a movie.
Usually, in comical terms, with a title that would inevitably have to
be
something like, "The Illogical Adventures of 8-ball Hunter" or "The
Half-Vulcan Bitch is Back: Run Away, Run Away!" and a soundtrack
that was
full of strange, offbeat music like that ancient album "Dark Side
of the
Moon" by an old group called Pink Floyd. In the movies, death wasn't
real.
Death was a vague idea for the future, sort of like graduating from high
school. Everyone knows it's gonna happen someday and they think and plan
about what's going to happen afterwards, but until it's happening to
you,
it's not real. People you know die and sure, that sucks a lot, but they're
just OTHER people. Death is something that happens to OTHER people. Not
to
you.
But sometimes people died, even people you didn't know that well, just
met
and talked to and liked for a few minutes and then passed out of your
life,
and you got to remember that life wasn't a movie, there was no nifty
soundtrack, and death was real. Even for you.
8-ball shook her head. She didn't want to be thinking about this right
now.
She couldn't be thinking about this right now. It was one of those
necessary fictions you needed in your life: you are immortal. 8-ball
remembered older people always complaining that kids acted stupid because
they thought they were immortal, that death could never touch them. 8-ball
figured they were probably right, except it wasn't just young people.
Everyone thought they were immortal. They needed to. Otherwise, what was
the point in living? It would just stop someday.
And it did for Ahdjiia D'Tinya. She proved the movie wrong. Immortality
wasn't apparantly all it was cracked up to be.
8-ball stared back at the wall. It stared at her blankly the way walls
do
and there was nothing comforting about the silence of her quarters where
everything suddenly seemed far too quiet and too real.
"I can't do this right now," 8-ball said to herself and stood
up. She
didn't want to be sitting in her room and thinking about Ahdjiia and
Big Man
and her dad and death. She didn't want to know that immortality was as
real
as a Ferengi's promise. She wanted a diversion, a distraction, anything
to
slip back into the movie where she was the heroine who never died and
got
the strapping, young man in the end.
8-ball threw on her shoes and thought of the Holodeck. If anything could
divert her from reality, it was the Holodeck.
A tiny voice in her mind told her that she shouldn't seek to avoid what
was
real, she should contemplate, she should learn from truth.
8-ball hit that tiny voice with an invisible sledgehammer and headed
over to
the Holodeck to play pool and remember her immortality.
"The Art of Shopping"
By
Ensign T'Pol (8-ball) Hunter
She had found it.
She had spent years looking. Earth had a few good places, especially
in New
York and San Francisco. Risa was sadly short, but it made up for that
with
more booze and hot men than could ever be imagined. Other planets had
tried
but none had exactly what she was looking for.
Until now.
8-ball had found it.
Shoe Heaven.
Now that they were on Starbase 212, the crew of the Galaxy finally got
some
time off and 8-ball was damn sure she was going to get some shopping
done.
She hadn't been able to go shopping in some time and she missed the
experience. Shopping was something that 8-ball felt should be recognized
as
more than a mere activity or hobby of bored women. Shopping was an art.
Any idiot could just run around with some credits and buy the world down,
but to truly work at it, hunt for the good bargains and fight the good
fight. . .there was just a beauty to it, especially for shoe shopping.
. .
and lingerie shopping. The best bra shop in the world could be found
on
Risa, any everytime she got back there, 8-ball made a note to stop and
buy
herself a cute couple of numbers to be seen and shortly afterwards torn
off
by the local, handsome men. But 8-ball had not been able to find the
perfect shoe store. Until Starbase 212.
8-ball hadn't really been expecting to find much. Every now and then
you
could find a good gem or two on these Starbases but usually there wasn't
much in the way of God-sent stores for your shopping pleasure. But this
one
really was. The One. The Ultimate. The Holy Grail of the
Manic-Shoe-Lovers-And-Compulsive-Buyers cult.
Shoe Heaven.
8-ball thought about falling on her knees and weeping in happiness and
adoration of whatever god had finally let her find the perfect shoe store.
She decided against it and immediately browsed the aisles of shoes,
sneakers, boots, sandals. . .any and all footware that one could imagine,
and at prices that actually were semi-reasonable. 8-ball wondered if
she
was dreaming this again and looked around for the bare chested sales
clerk
that always came about this time to offer her a little more than a cute
pair
of clogs. But he didn't emerge and 8-ball knew that she wasn't dreaming
this time.
"Oh, baby, this is what I like," 8-ball said to herself and
got hard to work
at her artistry.
ooc: this is a major, major backpost, back to that whole issue between
Ammanalyn and Counselor Dallas. Sorry about that...
*********
"So, what exactly is a Daemon?"
Principal Characters:
Captain Daren M'Kantu
Ensign Ammanalyn Lywhyn
****
USS Galaxy
Deck 1
Captain's Ready Room
Still trembling with a bit of anger, frustration and hurt, Ammanalyn
pressed the call at the Captain's ready room door. Tampatiaen was
curled sheepishly on her shoulder; after the talking to she'd given him
in
her quarters, he hadn't said a word, and his own emotions were all too
readable to the small Daedryn girl.
At the Captain's bidding, she stepped through the door, standing at
attention briefly.
"At ease, Counselor," Daren said, setting down a cup of coffee
and nodding
to her. "This isn't an inquisition, just a meeting."
"Captain, I must file a grievance with Counselor Dallas," Ammanalyn
said,
voice quivering. "She.... has treated me unfairly because of my
race... in
ways including, but not limited to, relieving me from duty. And I must...
I
must protest it. I have done nothing but my job in the manner in which
I
was trained to do that job and it's... it's not fair. She has no grounds
for her decision... none. And I -- I have a spotless record, Captain,
I
have... high recommendations. I've never had a problem before. Never.
Ever."
Daren waited for her to finish. "Protest duly noted, Counselor," he
replied
calmly and then indicated one of the chairs in front of his desk.
"Please, sit down. This isn't a formal session, there are no notations
being made on your record. We're just going to talk." He stood and
moved to
the replicator with his coffee cup. "Can I get you something to
drink?
Something for your companion, perhaps?"
"Tam doesn't require sustenance. He'd have nowhere to put it; he's
only
Dust, really," Ammanalyn said. "Tea would be lovely. Earl Grey,
please. Hot."
"Aren't we all dust, Counselor?" Daren asked as he ordered
her tea, and
then another cup of coffee for himself. "We come from it, and, in
the
end, we return to it." He offered her the tea, and then returned
to his seat.
"What... what're we going to talk about?" Ammanalyn questioned,
fidgeting
as she watched the captain. She accepted the tea cup in both hands,
smiling in thanks, watching him move behind his desk.
"That depends, Counselor," Daren offered. "I have some
questions about the
nature of your relationship with your companion that I'd like to ask,
but
that's not all we have to talk about if you have questions you'd like
to
ask." He took a sip of his coffee. "That's one of the prices
that you pay
when you gain a command position, you know - you spend a lot of time
on
questions; yours and other people's. I just happen to prefer asking,
and
answering, them like this, as opposed to turning recorders on and making
a
big production over it."
"I'm a counselor, Captain," Ammanalyn said, smiling slightly, "I
understand
about the questions. I don't think there's any reasons for recorders,
either, you've said yourself that this isn't an inquisition..." She
let
her voice trail off and she sipped her tea as Tampatiaen snaked down
her
body and into her lap, where he curled. "What do you want to know
about
Tampatiaen?" she questioned. "I'll answer all that I can."
"I've read the entries in your file about him, and how your relationship
works, but that's not really all that informative, since it spends a
great deal of time using words like 'symbiote' and 'externalized
subconscious mind' - none of which really describe the relationship the
way
that you see it." He sipped at his coffee. "A problem that
occurs quite
often when one attempts to describe the metaphysical with scientific
terms.
What I need to understand is how *you* understand and describe your
relationship."
Ammanalyn took a deep breath, then smiled slightly. "Well, Captain...
how
much time do you have?"
"All the time it takes, Counselor."
She nodded. "Tampatiaen is... what we call a Daemon," she
said. The word
was pronounced distinctly like the English word 'demon', but with a slight
accent on the last syllable. "It is, to put it in human terms, a
bit
like..." She hesitated, searching for the word. "A soul. I
suppose. A
soul, a conscience, a representation of our life and essence, in a
way. When a Daedryn child is born, the Daemon raises from its
chest, taking a physical shape within the first breath." Tampatiaen
snuggled against Ammanalyn's neck. She could feel his embarrassment
through their bond; any discussion as to his nature or their nature
together was uncomfortable at best, and while he always weathered it
as
best he could, he could never disguise his feelings.
"Daemons also reflect the growth of their person. They choose a
colour by
a certain age, and then a shape. Each is a rite of passage. When a colour
is chosen, it demonstrates the child's ability to be a rational creature:
she understands the difference of right a wrong, is able to learn the
culture and rules of society, is responsible for her actions. And she
is
able to understand the significance of the Dust. The Dust is the basis
of
our being. We are all made of it, and when we die, our souls become that
Dust to be reborn into a new being." She absently moved and closed
Tampatiaen in her hands. He was the shape of a quivering door mouse,
and
she easily folded him up, away from sight. He began to relax slowly,
knowing the man could not see him, study him as she spoke.
"We consider ourselves to be a blessed race, you see," she
continued. "We
are able to have close, personal relationships with parts of ourselves
that
every other being must struggle to understand. And through that, there
are
no mysteries. No Daedryn fears death, because we know what happens to
us
when we die. We know that our bodies feed the soil, and our souls feed
others." Her forehead was knit as she stared down into her lap. "The
colour also determines the path we will take in life; the interest and
ability of the person is reflected in the Daemon, and it is always
accurate. Some colours are rarer than others. Tampatiaen's, for instance,
is the rarest of all, and should never belong to a female person." She
swallowed. "We're feared on our home world..."
"Because you're... different?" Daren asked quietly.
"Yes. We're very different. And some people think we are a sign
of
bad things to come... we have challenged a lot of old beliefs and
traditions. From the colours, to the fact that Tam hasn't settled. See...
the choosing of a shape notes maturity, or so we had always thought.
Tam
hasn't chosen a shape yet. No one knows why, not even us. That causes
more
fear..."
She cleared her throat, then looked up at the Captain. "Sir, I
assure you.
Tampatiaen is harmless," she said. "The touch of another being
causes great
personal pain, unless initiated through great trust and affect by the
Daemon. Tampatiaen rarely ever speaks to Andeaons. What happened with
Counselor Dallas was a shock. He knows better than that, but only spoke
because a large part of me needed another voice on my side of things.
It
was the first time, while I was in this uniform, that he has forgotten
his
role.
"It is difficult for us, sometimes. Being so far away from home,
so far
away from those like us. Few Daedryn leave our home planet. We need the
support of others like us, and we need the Dust around us. Sometimes,
a
lack of understanding can become too much. We get tired of being pressured,
being questioned, of not being understood. We get tired of part of us
being
seen as an animal, a dirty, lesser being, rather than what it truly is:
something so much more than any Andeaon could possibly understand. People
like you, look and see Tam as a burden. You tell me to leave him my
quarters. That 'pets'," she spit the word out, venom hanging on
her
otherwise soft, broken voice, "are not allowed to freely roam a
starship.
But... I cannot leave Tam in another room." She wiped a tear away. "The
thought of it is heartbreaking, and the action of it would literally
be
next to deadly. Daedryn have gone mad under those circumstances"
She fell silent.
Daren nodded. "I thought there was a critical misinterpretation
at work in
the file." He sipped at his coffee for a moment. "Let me go
on and ask the
only question I have left to ask since you've answered most of them for
me,
and then we'll be done with that. All right?"
"Okay."
"What I need to know is this, Counselor: is it possible that Tampatiaen
would feel the need to defend you in a non-verbal fashion? Not
necessarily by physically attacking someone, but perhaps by assuming
a
larger and more threatening form than his normal ones, or something of
that
nature?"
Am frowned, opening her hands slightly to look at her Daemon who sat
within
them, looking up at her in turn. "His most frequent form is his
largest," she said, "he doesn't get much larger than what humans
would call
a snow leopard. It varies a few inches, but that's as big as he becomes.
Sometimes, when he gets agitated, he flips shapes rapidly, but he's getting
better at that. We're still young, really; we have a lot to learn. But
isn't that all part of it?"
"Learning is part of life," Daren agreed. "The secret
to it that one
discovers as one gets older is to try and avoid having to learn the same
lessons over and over again."
Tampatiaen began to crawl up her arm, slowly increasing in size, shifting
to ermine shape by the time he was at her shoulder. He leaned close to
her
ear and whispered to her in ancient Daedrae, a language even the Federation
translators had been unable to full dissect; they struggled so much with
the modern incantation which was several permeations from the language
of
the Daemon.
"Are you sure?" she questioned him. With a soft sound on his
part, she
looked to the Captain. "Tam would like to address if you, if you
would
permit."
"Of course," Daren agreed with a smile. This would be interesting.
He
hadn't seen anything change shape so smoothly since that encounter with
a
Chamelioid fifteen years ago in the Beta Thermopylae system.
Tampatiaen jumped from Ammanlyn's shoulder, shifting on his way down
into
leopard form. He moved to the side of the desk so he could make better
eye
contact with the Captain. "Thank you, sir," he said to Captain
M'Kantu. "I
appreciate the permission... what happened, with Counselor Dallas, will
not
happen again. I assure you. And it has not happened for several
years. Have you ever been unable to bite back something, even though
you
know you should not say it? That was what happened. When one addresses
Ammanalyn, one addresses me as well, we are inseparable, two parts of
the
same whole, and while we have learned to exist in the environment of
the...
Single Formed, and we have tried to come to terms with that. It has been
difficult for us to learn to communicate, as on our planet, it is done
on
two levels: first between people and second between Daemons. I forgot
myself, and I voiced to Counselor Dallas what I would otherwise have
to her
Daemon. It will not happen again, and particularly not in session where
I
do my best to be as scarce as possible and unobtrusive unless I feel
my
presence would be of assistance."
Daren nodded. "I understand. I hope you will likewise understand
that I
need to ask again if there is a possibility that you will feel the need
to change shape in response to the emotional level of a conversation
or
situation? I've seen you assume several forms that reflected your
emotional mood - either yours and the Counselor's shared reaction or
yours
alone, I'm not precisely sure which - and I have some level of concern
that
your largest form, the one you're using now, might be perceived as a
threat
by some of the crew and unintentionally provoke a violent response."
"I am most often in this form," he stated, "it will likely
be the one to
which I settle. But I think that is a long time in coming still. I would
not worry, Captain; this is how we introduce ourselves, often in this
shape, this size. People will react as they will. We cannot help
that. When going into a situation that may be tense, or one that Ammanalyn
is concerned about in the beginning, I will always take this form and
stay there. It would serve neither of us any good to surprise someone
that
concerns us."
Daren paused, reflecting that the Daemon had avoided actually providing
a
direct answer with almost Vulcanesque precision. "Very well," he
nodded.
"Let me offer you this piece of advice then: your current form,
intentionally or not, is going to be perceived as dangerous and a potential
threat, at least by a fair number of the adult human crewmen aboard ship,
and possibly by a number of the non-human adult crewmen as well. Most
will
simply be nervous, but there is at least one human crewman aboard that
I
strongly suggest that you avoid contact with, Lieutenant Victor Krieghoff,
and there are several alien crewmen that you should also exercise caution
with, especially the ones from a racial predatory ancestry. You'll want
to
talk to Commander Dallas about any other potential interaction issues."
"We appreciate your concern and will take it under advisement," Tampatiaen
stated, nodding, then glanced back at Ammanalyn, who sat straighter in
her
chair.
"Yes. Thank you," Am said, nodding. "We have taken care
of ourselves in
difficult circumstances before, we will be fine, Captain, I assure you.
We
appreciate your concern but I think we will be okay." She smiled
slightly
and stood slowly, cautiously, not entirely sure it was okay for her to
make
a move to leave. "Will... will there be, ah, anything else, captain?" She
questioned, studying him as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. "Can
I... can I resume my responsibilities, or is that, ah... up to Counselor
Dallas?" She crinkled her nose and continued chewing. Tampatiaen,
who has
returned to her side, nipped her hand and she stopped abruptly, covering
her mouth with a hand and blushing.
Daren smiled. "No, nothing more from me, Counselor. You will need
to speak
to Commander Dallas before resuming your duties, but I doubt you'll find
that to be a daunting task. Just remember that she might be just as
embarrassed and uneasy about the meeting as you may be and everything
ought
to be fine. She's a good officer and a good counselor, and despite the
bump
here, I think you'll find that she's a good friend as well."
"I'll keep that in mind, Captain," she said softly, nodding. "Thank
you."
Tampatiaen rubbed his head under her hand and together, Daedryn and
Daemon
left the Captain's ready room.
((OOC: As a bit of background for the Galaxy folks, when Jerri was a
child the starship her parents ran (and that she was on) was pulled
into an anomaly. While she was there, normal time had them missing for
two weeks, inside the void two years passed. Jerri spent that time
afraid for her life and fleeing something she called 'the Other.'
Jerri was the only survivor of the USS Chisholm. Only four people know
the full story of her time in the void, though she has dreamed about
it. In a mission a short while ago, Jerri found out what had happened
to the Chisholm and that her parents were still alive. Daniel Fraiser
is someone who has been searching for Jerri to speak with her about her
experiences in the anomaly and is a temporal astrophysicist from the
Vulcan Science Academy. Jerri has refused to speak with Daniel for the
past five years, now Daniel has taken things into his own hands and has
arranged to come aboard the Miranda for a time to help the science
department. -Laurel))
"Perchance to Dream"
by
Cmdr. Jerri Wolfson
Chief Engineer,
USS Miranda
& Daniel Fraiser (PCC)
Temporal Astrophysicist,
Civilian assigned to the USS Miranda
-----------
Cmdr. Jerri Wolfson's Quarters
USS Miranda
The first thing that she remembered in the dark recesses of her mind
was the fear. All consuming, ever beating, it was a living thing that
coiled and hissed after her soul with all the will of the deadliest
serpent. It was death on wings, the stuff that nightmares were made
of. Not those childhood terrors that would send one screaming for
their parents, nor those adulthood fears of loss and despair. No,
this was far more elemental than that.
This was fear itself. Pure, unaltered fear. Her heart beat in a
staccato beat within her chest as she fought it's grip. She knew, oh
she knew, that if she did not wake it would find her. The Other was in
her mind once again after fourteen years of absence. It wanted her
back after being deprived of her presence all those years ago. It
needed her back now it had none left from the Chisholm to satisfy it's
unearthly greed.
A gasp.
A breath.
A scream.
Then, the light. Light of the purest kind banished the darkness, it
fought against the onslaught of the Other, and it survived. The being
known as Jerri Wolfson smiled at the brightness before it turned
towards her and revealed...
Jordan.
Jordan smiled at Jerri before that smile was twisted into one of pure
hatred.
The light gained a reddish hue.
"There is no truth now, all is lost..."
----
Jerri Wolfson sat upright in bed with a gasp as she was wrenched from
the dream by the force of will alone. Her still sleep befuddled mind
fought against unseen bonds before she recognized their feel as those
of the sheets that had become wrapped around her body during the course
of the night. Stilling her struggles, Jerri stared blankly into the
darkness of her room as she attempted to organize her thoughts.
It had been years since she had last suffered from night terrors, years
before she had found some measure of peace and before she had found
what had happened to her parents. What had brought them on now was all
too apparent to the Chief Engineer - it was a combination of stress and
the ongoing fight between herself and Jordan. She still had friends on
the Miranda, in fact there were quite a few, but she still missed her
best friend the most. In the darkest hours of the night she would find
herself wishing she could speak to her again, but that was always
before the onslaught of memories of their fight regained control.
Perhaps someday forgiveness could be reached between the two women, but
until that time there was an uneasy truce.
Giving up on the chance for sleep for the remainder of the night, Jerri
gently disengaged herself from the sheets without waking Jack - the man
could sleep through Armageddon and not awake - and stole into the
living room. The darkness of the room was abated by the starlight and
the glow of the starbase. She ventured close to the transparent
aluminum panes and pressed her palm against their vacuum induced
coolness.
It was such an amazing marvel of technology to note that only a piece
of plastic held at bay a massive pressure differential between the
interior and exterior of a starship. Transparent aluminum surely
changed the course of history, but marveling at technology did little
to banish the memory of the dream. It seemed foretelling somehow, and
that bothered her more than she could say. Was it possible that out
there, somewhere in the darkness, the Other was still searching for
her?
She shied away from the thought quickly. It was impossible, it had
been fourteen years...but only half a year since she had found the
Chisholm again. She shook her head and returned to her contemplation
of the scenery outside. There was nothing to fear here, safely
enclosed by the hull of her starship.
Nothing at all.
--------------
Observation Lounge
Starbase 212
In another observation lounge, brown eyes watched the USS Miranda. The
ship was at repose now at it's docking position with the Starbase,
shore leave had commenced for it's officers and crew and only a few
returned to the ship each night for their sleep. Daniel Fraiser knew
of one such officer who rarely failed to return to her home berth for
the night. Starbase 212, while close to several planetary centers,
held means of entertainment on it's own. On the shorter stints of
shore leave, most tended to stay close to their ships as a sort of
'just in case.'
His theory on the matter was that they could not bare to be left behind
should something summon their starship on a mission while they were on
leave. Daniel Fraiser tended to find that to be quite truthful,
especially when it came to a certain subject he had been attempting to
find for quite some while. So many times he had attempted to speak
with Jerri Wolfson about her experiences in the temporal void that she
had been in during her childhood. So many times she had turned him
down. Now, with the transfer orders firmly in his grip, she would not
be able to hide from him much longer.
There were facets of his quest to speak with Jerri that had little to
do with her experiences in the anomaly and more to do with her
heritage. Daniel Fraiser had a secret, a secret that would probably
tear down the finely crafted foundation held by Jerri Wolfson of
family. He smiled slightly at the vision of the starship, knowing
that somewhere aboard her the Chief Engineer lay, "Soon, we shall
meet
Jerri. And you will not be able to avoid me anymore..."
TBC...
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