"Power." Collins repeats distractedly. Why did I start this game? I have no idea what's going on. She moves a pawn, it produces no advantage.
"Power." Collins repeats distractedly. Why did I start this game? I have no idea what's going on. She moves a pawn, it produces no advantage.
"Well, I'm sure there will be plenty of questions asked given our reports into it."
Rangin watches the next couple of moves played out. "You don't play much chess, do you?", he says moving a bishop into an attacking position. "I wouldn't worry, Dr T'Var still beats me like a novice most days and as for your chief, once was enough. So, which games do you prefer?"
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
"Hmmm?" Collins looks at Rangin, then at the chess board. "I'm sorry, I'm usually not this inept. I like the old board games from the late twentieth, early twenty first centuries on Earth. Particularly ones that involve trading and territory conquering. Have you ever heard of 'Settlers of Catan'?" Collins tips her king over, conceding the game. Before either Rangin or Pourtash can respond to her question, she gets up from the table. "Gentlemen, please excuse me. There is something I must see to before the mission." She leaves the rec room and walks hurriedly to her quarters.
"Do you feel as if you are truly unable to perform your duties on this mission?" T'Var asks. "It would be unwise to place yourself -- or your crewmates -- in danger."
T'Var pauses a moment, then continues. "Which crew members are causing you concern, Kylah?"
With a quick shake of her head, Kylah backs away from T'Var as if the doctor has just aimed a phaser at her. "No, no, I do not mean--I do not feel I cannot perform my duties on the mission!" Her mind reels at the thought of being removed from the mission--the shame and disgrace would haunt her, and what would it do to her reputation on the ship? What if Ferguson were to hear of this? No, she cannot countenance such a possibility. "I just worry that I will not be at my best. That I will be distracted. I want to better control my feelings, just as you promised."
Kylah turns away, still hugging herself. "As for the crew... You know my feelings about Collins. I will do my job and follow her orders, but I cannot trust her. Indeed I believe that she should be the one whose ability to perform without distraction is dubious. Certainly she displayed questionable judgment throughout the Sakathian mission--do you remember her putting Waite at the front while we were escaping through the station, while I had to be the one who suggested someone with actual fighting experience should be placed there instead? It should not be an Ensign's role to provide better strategy than a commander! And then that vile order to handcuff Porr with his dead wife..." Kylah tightens her lips, swallows and continues. " But as I said, she has been put in command and I will do my duties as ordered--if they are rational and do not put us in jeopardy. If the Captain put her in charge, so it must be."
Then her thoughts turn elsewhere. "There are... far more personal reasons I dread serving with other crew members. One of them likely thinks the worst of me, and the other... the other I fear his finding out what this other man knows. Or thinks he knows." Kylah realizes her words probably seem jumbled and insensible, and she tries to clarify.
"This morning there was a confrontation between me and someone I barely know, someone who has shown hostility toward me. I sought an explanation. As a result, this--this stranger maligned me in public by falsely accused me of--harassment." Her face burns at the memory. "He claimed I was demanding sex from him, and implied I had done so before, numerous times. And he did so loudly, purposely. Mr. Graham overheard, as did some others, and there is no way to defend myself because the truth is known only to myself. I am certain this rumor will spread, either through one of the witnesses or this liar himself. As for the mission, I would hope Graham is professional and will not share this rumor with others, especially someone whose opinion matters very much..." She flushes again, not wanting to bring Rangin into this discussion. "But I do not know him well enough. And I hate that I must trust someone I do not know. I hate it!"
She sinks down into a chair, covering her eyes. "I apologize, Doctor. This has been a long day, first facing this man, then his lie, and now waiting for news of my alleged behavior to spread as it inevitably will. And I can only imagine how I must seem, even to you. But I know I can pull myself together if I just..." Kylah looks up hopefully at the doctor. "Please, is there not anything you can do, some meditation you can teach me, to calm myself?"
Rangin looks blankly at Pourtash, "Did I miss something?"
He shrugs and leans back. "Come on Faraz, I've been out of the loop for a while. What's the latest gossip on board?"
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
Graham forces himself to look at the glasses rather than stare slack-jawed at Bennett and pours a respectable but not outlandish amount into each. "Fun? You must not have gotten the memo yet. Senior officers aren't supposed to have fun--I mean, look at Vargas."
He slides one glass to Bennett and raises the other. "A toast then: to good news, to promotions, and to Cecilia"--Graham mumbles something incomprehensible beginning with an "e" sound--"Bennett getting more of both--as she well deserves!"
Pourtash looks curiously after Collins. "That was a little odd. I wonder what's up with her?" He looks into the distance thoughtfully and says, "Well, Lt. Thalen is your best bet for shipboard scuttlebutt. I can't vouch for the accuracy of this, but I hear Vargas has asked for a transfer to another ship, and that Fujishiro is going to be taken back to her family on Earth."
Bennett raises her own glass with a smile and replies, "And here's to a fine Security officer who deserves no less himself." As he asked, and over a glass or two more of his excellent whiskey, she tells Graham a bit about her background. She was born and raised in a large family on a farm in rural Hertfordshire. She hiked with a childhood friend across quite a bit of Mars before attending Eton and then Starfleet Academy ("My dad, who's a mad stellar cartographer, was always taking me out at night to look up at the stars, so I was very keen on astronomy even when I was a little girl. But I wanted to go to the stars, not just study them, and my Fleet aptitude tests for navigation were pretty good," she says with characteristic British understatement, "so that's how I ended up here"). After graduating from the Academy near the top of her class, she served aboard the Mandela and the Kyoto ("Both good ships, but nothing like this") before being assigned to the Yorktown almost two years ago. She enjoys her work and would like to command her own ship ("A small one, maybe a scoutship - fewer headaches, more flexibility, don't you think?") someday.
Rangin's voice drops quietly. "Really? Collins is Vargas's second. If he leaves, will she take over? Is she ready to take over or would they get someone else in. Wonder if that's why she's leading the next away mission. To prove herself."
Rangin ponders the possibilities of Collins' success or failure on the next mission.
"Wonder if she knows..." he leaves the question hanging. "Anyway cheers Faraz, I'm going to grab some food. If you want a game of anything, I'll probably be back in an hour or so, unless something crops up."
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
In her quarters, Collins first checks to be sure that Kylah is not there. Satisfied, she pulls a duffle out of her wardrobe and digs into it. She pulls out a small metal box secured with a combination lock. She takes it into the head and closes the door. After filling a glass with water, she turns the tumblers slowly, trying to decide if she really wants to do this. From inside the box, she removes a vial of iridescent liquid. Two drops. Just two. That should hold me until after the mission. She puts three drops into the water Three. Just to be sure. Before drinking, she replaces the vial and locks the box. She downs it like a shot of tequila, the buries the box back in her duffle, shoves that to the back of her wardrobe, and lies down on her bunk. She closes her eyes and waits for the wave to wash over her.
T'Var sighs. "We honestly do not have enough time to fully explore the meditation possibilities," she tells Kylah. "And I am most concerned with your current emotional state."
The doctor pauses a moment. "I could administer certain medications to calm you and help you focus." T'Var frowns. "However, I am not sure this treatment would allow you to perform your duties without incident during our upcoming mission."
Panic starts to fill Kylah's body with adrenaline and she desperately tries to keep herself from fleeing. "I will do anything, Dr. T'Var. Please. I am torn, yes, but--but as I said, it has been a terrible day. You cannot understand because you have spent years and years on maintaining control, but surely even you must know that some days are worse than others. Even just telling someone what happened this morning, someone who I hope believes me, has been a relief. I will be better tomorrow, after I have slept, I promise! Please give me whatever medication you think best. It will serve its purpose, I am sure."
She stands up, clutching her hands together tightly, and speaks as quietly and calmy as possible. "I beg you, Dr. T'Var, do not keep me from this mission. If I show any signs of problems you may send me back to the ship."
Graham finds himself lost in Bennett’s story—and voice. He remembers a discussion like this, a long time ago, with a beautiful, brilliant young Englishwoman—who also wanted to go to the stars. That evokes a bittersweet memory—but for a change—at this moment, the sweet beginning of the story feels more present that its bitter end.
“A small ship…fewer headaches for sure.” He smiles a little. “Smaller guns though, remember that…although you don’t seem like the type whose ego is wound up with having the biggest phaser banks.”
He finishes the last sip of his drink. “But I’m sure you’ll have the pick of the fleet,” he says, lowering his glass while almost unconsciously starting to extend his left hand across the table toward Bennett.
As he does so, he becomes keenly aware of the scars on his hands: right, knife wound from a classic shore leave bar brawl he and the team broke up. Embarrassing, he remembers: if Faisal hadn’t had my back that scar might be someplace a lot more serious. Left: bite from some sort of nasty badger-like thing on an arid planet. They had stunned hundreds of the little bastards pouring out of very hard-to-see holes in the ground before the landing team was evacced.
They sharply remind him of his age and his history: get real Booker, she’s been very nice but she certainly has better things to do then hang around with the likes of you. He freezes his hand. “I…ah… I’m sure I’ve wasted enough of your time, I mean, you must have people who you really want to celebrate with.”
"OK, see you around," Pourtash says with a wave as Rangin leaves.
It's not long before a mind-blowing wave of pleasure sweeps over Collins. After being introduced to "Elsewhere" by friends at a party five years ago, she's tried to come to terms with her addiction to the drug, a synthetic hallucinogen originally developed by the Tellarites. She's been able to resist the craving for months, but tonight it was finally too much for her. She wonders for a moment what it might to do to her baby, then closes her eyes and simply goes along for the ride, trembling from time to time as the room seems to melt and wildly reform around her, revealing visions unlike any she's ever had. A low moan escapes her lips as the bed swallows her up, plunging her into some newly surreal tunnel of her unleashed and addled imagination.
Bennett looks down at her glass and says quietly, "I've already told a couple of people about the promotion, and I suspect my bunkmate T'Var will be just about as effusive as a Vulcan can be. But I assure you, Booker... I don't consider any time spent with you to be wasted, and I can't think of a better place to be right now." She looks up and meets his eye.
Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 12 Oct 2013 at 12:06 AM.
"A mild tranquilizer should help you maintain your focus," T'Var assures Kylah. "However, it will not control the emotional turmoil you seem to be experiencing."
The doctor lets out another sigh. "If at any time during this mission you become a liability, I will immediately order you returned to the ship."
T'Var places her hands on Kylah's shoulders. "Do I make myself clear, Ensign?"
As much as Kylah wanted more comfort and assurance from the doctor, she will not reveal her disappointment. Of course comfort and assurance always come at a price, just like the relief of revealing her secrets; she knows that now. One would have thought she'd learned this long ago, but apparently this lesson is one she must keep repeating.
So she does her best to prevent her reaction to T'Var's words from showing on her face, although if the Vulcan is using her touch telepathy on her now there's no way to hide just how much T'Var has just hurt her. "Yes, doctor," she says quietly. "Thank you."
While she waits for T'Var to give her either a hypospray or some sort of pills--Kylah's not sure what T'Var meant by tranquilizer--she keeps herself very still. Liability. Liability. If the doctor had looked through the dictionary she could not have come up with a more damning word to use. Her parents used it all her life. First behind her back before her siblings were born and she overheard Mother and Father arguing over the possibility of her adoptive nature causing a scandal if it were discovered, and then to her face when they warned her about keeping her empathic abilities a secret. And of course Aldaan used it specifically to create enough fear that put her under his thumb in the first place, that day when he called her to his chambers--which only a week earlier belonged to her parents--when she was twelve and still grieving her mother and father after their accident.
Kylah waits for T'Var. When the medication is dispensed she again thanks T'Var and is quick to leave. She's done too much crying today and does not do so now, but she wants nothing more than to crawl under the covers and find the oblivion of sleep. When she reaches her quarters, she closes her eyes before entering and reminds herself that she is strong and will not fail the doctor, will not fail this mission, just as she has never failed Aldaan."Now then, my dear Kylah. You are the eldest daughter of your House, even if not a blood member, and thus I will be honest with you. If plans for your cousin's marriage turn out as we hope, you know we will need a new Dohlman. Your brother is very likely to be chosen, of course, but there are others among your cousins who may also be in contention. This family must remain without blemish if you wish to see Tel rise to the position he deserves. Assuming you do wish that?"
"More than anything, uncle."
"Mmm. There is the matter of your... nature. Yes, I am aware of it, so do not look so shocked--or attempt a denial. Your parents told me of this mutation you possess before they died, knowing I would be in charge of your future should anything happen to them." Aldaan beckons her closer and, when she moves dutifully toward him, he places a hand on her cheek. "Do not be afraid that I will give away your secret. To the contrary, I will keep it just as they did. I need hardly tell you that such a deformity makes you a liability to Tel's chances, to our House as a whole. We can ill afford such a scandal." His thumb caresses her cheek while his gaze softens slightly. "Who would think to look at such beauty that others would call you a witch? "
"But you know I am not--"
"Of course you are not, my dear Kylah. But others are not so enlightened as I. Or know you as well as I do, much less feel toward you... but of course, you must already know how I feel. Your... what shall I call them... skills have likely told you?"
Kylah wants to squirm away from him but just stares blankly at his face. "I know."
"Ah, all men will be vulnerable before you, not just before your charms but thanks to those eyes that see into our hearts. One day soon you will be a dangerous jewel indeed, Kylah. Well, there are some years yet before you are of an age for me to openly declare my suit. But as to your deformity... you do realize that in addition to being a liability, it can be an asset, do you not? No? Astonishing. But then, it does please me that your parents have kept you so naive and innocent of the power you possess. Still, as your Guardian I may now guide you as I see fit. And, my dear one, you must learn that you can use your strange ability for Elas's benefit--for your House's benefit. You do wish to prove yourself a true daughter of your House, do you not?"
"It is all I have ever wished."
He smiles and brushes her hair back. Every touch feels deliberate, planned. And yet... not entirely unwelcome, much to her discomfort. Her parents were not demonstrative and Kylah is torn between yearning for such closeness and feeling awkward that Aldaan is the man providing it. "I know it is. It is a pity that your late parents did not see your full value as I do. But they were sometimes unworldly. No, I do not insult them, I merely state the truth. Which is why we will work so well together, little one. Your years of being solely a shame, solely a liability, can at last be at an end. But only with my help. Do you vow to let me guide you, teach you how to serve your House?"
She nods and he again tells her how much she pleases him, that she is an unpolished gem he will refine and treasure, and finally, before bidding her goodnight, folds her in his arms. And again she feels that longing, that discomfort. Especially since he doesn't let go for a long time.
She is a true daughter of her House.
Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 12 Oct 2013 at 09:34 PM. Reason: Edited at choie's request.
Rangin happily wanders out of Rec Room 3 to the Mess Hall to grab some food.
If he sees Lt Thalen and can get some of the latest news out of him, he will, otherwise he will heading back to the Rec Room for a couple more games before turning in for the night.
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
When Kylah enters her quarters she's surprised to find Collins already there, asleep. Probably the other woman wished to get an early night for the mission tomorrow. Still, Kylah would have thought Collins would spend the time researching or planning, or even with her lover, considering they don't know how long the mission will last. Kylah frowns as she notices that the nearer she walks to the bed, the more uncomfortable and strangely lightheaded she feels. Despite her private promise not to breach others' privacy, Kylah rationalizes that this is the mission commander. If there's anything wrong she has a right to know.
When she focuses outward on Collins, almost immediately Kylah gasps. She senses reckless abandon and complete surrender, wild chaos and blissful control, all at once.
Overwhelmed, Kylah quickly backs away to her own side of the room, hoping to clear herself of these emotions bleeding out from her unconscious roommate. Perhaps Collins's pregnancy--whether physical aspects such as hormones or emotional ones such as her obvious ambivalence--is causing these strange, surreal feelings within her dreams.
With an exhale, Kylah sinks into her desk chair near her terminal. Pregnancy is something she's never much contemplated. Her tutor made it clear that hybrids--cross species breeds, such as herself--are likely infertile. Not that this has ever been an issue, but right now, looking at Collins, she finds herself grateful. If such nightmares are what one must endure when pregnant, she's glad this is something she'll likely never experience herself.
She pushes away all thoughts of this, as well as everything that happened today and, instead of going to sleep as she so desires, focuses on tomorrow's mission. She will research everything she can about this Wrigley spa, its history, who's behind it, the treatments one can expect there, any guests who've stayed and shared their experience, and anything else that turns up. On the last mission they were all caught unaware by many aspects of Sakathian custom and behavior. Kylah does not want that to happen again.
Before she begins her research she checks her messages. Then she will spend as much time immersing herself in the spa's background and Omicron Ceti III history as possible before, finally, crawling into bed.
Last edited by choie; 12 Oct 2013 at 06:47 PM.
Graham is frozen for a moment, holding Bennett’s gaze. Oh hell… I haven’t done this in ten years, he realizes—actually stared into a woman’s eyes. There were women, to be sure: but he had gravitated toward those who had little interest in his eyes, or for that matter, his name. Not that I would have had much luck pursuing a different sort of…relationship… as a moody drunk, he thinks.
His mouth feels as dry as the planet on which they had found those damn swarming badger things. He swallows and softly clears his throat. “I…I’m on the landing party tomorrow morning. Maybe when I get back we could have dinner--without Admirals and a cast of thousands this time. Ah, food probably won’t be as good…” he smiles a little. “But…if you’re not already commanding your own ship by then…or being a lieutenant hasn’t gone to your head, and you couldn’t possibly be seen with an enlisted man.”
He looks at his hand—his old, ugly, scarred hand. There was some irony—the creature had locked onto it, so rather than try to stun it he’d stomped on its head until its skull had cracked and its jaws had released. And the xenobiologist on the landing party had totally lit into him for that as soon as they made it back to the ship. Maybe that guy was related to Kylah, he thinks.
Graham lifts his hand and extends it, gingerly, palm up toward Bennett. “If it’s not too…um, forward. Or too..ah… stupid a thing to offer…perhaps I could walk you back to your quarters?”
Kylah also realizes that Collins is still in her uniform and lying on top of her bunk's covers, which is unusual, and that all of the lights are still on in the cabin. Quite odd, if the Security officer really had turned in for the night. Kylah looks into the Omicron Ceti III resort and Starfleet research station on the Library Computer as thoroughly as she can, but it's not long before she's reading over pretty much the same stuff she'd already heard at the mission briefing that afternoon.
Rangin doesn't see Lt. Thalen anywhere; someone suggests that he might be on a date. The xenobiologist plays a few more games and gets to bed at a decent hour.
After just the slightest pause, Bennett blushes and puts her hand in Graham's. "It's a little forward, I suppose, but it's not stupid, not at all." In the corridor, she takes his arm, and they walk slowly, in no hurry at all, to her quarters. Outside her door she says, "Thank you, Booker, for the drinks. I'd be glad to have dinner when you return. I hope your mission goes well - and keep an eye on T'Var for me, won't you?" She leans up and gives him a kiss on his cheek. "Good night." The door opens and closes, and she is gone before he thinks to say anything - or even feels capable of it.
T'Var awaits Bennett inside, and the young Englishwoman tells her all about the promotion, but says nothing about Graham.
The corridor lights have long since dimmed and shipboard night has fallen on the Yorktown. You each go to bed. The ship races on.
Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 12 Oct 2013 at 10:21 PM.
"Congratulations," T'Var says. "And well deserved."
Rangin wakes up a in a good mood. Been a good relaxing few days and now a new away mission coming right up.
He has a load of notes on where they are going and what they will be doing and decides to grab an early breakfast before finding out if they are going to be taking a shuttle or transporting down to the planet. Hopefully the former and he wonders if they will be staying there in guest quarters or returning to the Yorktown each night. It's going to take a several days at least to fully inspect both the station and the spa and the Vice Admiral is going to want his stay to be long and luxurious.
For a brief moment, Rangin wonders how everyone else is doing, but considers that they are all good Starfleet officers. They should be fine.
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
Collins opens her eyes, and immediately closes them. She opens them again, this time more slowly, and realizes she slept in her uniform. Not the first time. Won't be the last.
She sits on the side of the bed and looks at the chronometer. 0725. Good. Time for a shower and some coffee. She moves slowly and quietly, even though she didn't bother to check if her roommate was awake yet. She undresses and gets into the shower. In the middle of washing herself, she stops, overtaken by nausea. She bends over facing the drain, and vomits. She stands, takes a deep breath, then bends over and vomits again. This goes on a few more minutes. Collins stays in the shower until she's sure the nausea has passed, then gets dressed and heads to the mess for breakfast, her datapad in her hand.
Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 13 Oct 2013 at 01:19 PM. Reason: changed reference to PADD, which is a TNG term.
Kylah had a very realistic dream overnight.
She is on the Bridge of the Yorktown, which, she can see, has been in battle and is badly damaged. Debris is scattered about the Bridge, several consoles including Communications are in ruins, and the overhead lights are out. Red emergency lights cast a dim glow over the room, barely cutting through the smoky haze. The Red Alert klaxon is sounding loudly. Something must be wrong with artificial gravity, as the deck is tilting to starboard perhaps seven degrees. There is a stench of burned flesh in the air.
The Captain is leaning heavily upon her command chair, bleeding from a bad cut on her left temple. Kylah knows, with some dream-logic she cannot understand, that Cmdr. Vargas has been killed somewhere belowdecks. Science Officer Roble’s uniform is singed and dirty, but he seems unharmed. Collins is seated at the Helm, the full stripe of a lieutenant on her soot-stained red uniform’s sleeves. No one is at Navigation. Kylah is standing nearby, but no one else is on the Bridge - no one alive, at least. She sees at least five corpses in Starfleet uniform strewn about the Bridge, but cannot tell who they are.
On the cracked viewscreen, badly distorted by static, a Klingon battlecruiser, also damaged, is slowly turning towards them. Kylah somehow knows that two others, fatally damaged or destroyed, are nearby.
“Captain….” Roble says.
“You know we have to do it, Abdi,” Singh says wearily, wiping blood away from her head with the back of her hand. “We’re out of options… and out of time." The ship has lost phasers and torpedoes, and the shields are down for good, but lifepods and shuttles are away - at least most of them, Kylah knows. Singh continues, "They’re going to send boarding parties any minute now.” She takes a deep breath and punches a button on her chair arm. “Computer, voiceprint identification. Identify Singh, Capt. Sundri P., Commanding Officer, USS Yorktown.”
The computer’s voice is distorted but still understandable. “Identification confirmed.”
Singh looks straight at Roble and says, “This is a self-destruct authorization. Initiate destruct sequence. Command authorization alpha gamma two five. Codeword Saber. Enable.”
The computer repeats, “Command authorization alpha gamma two five. Codeword Saber. Confirmed.”
Roble’s shoulders slump. He clears his throat and says, “Computer, identify Roble, Lt. Cmdr. Abdi, Science Officer and Acting First Officer.” Kylah can barely hear him over the klaxon.
“Identification confirmed.”
After a long pause he says, “I… concur with the self-destruct order. Command authorization theta theta eight nine. Codeword Halberd. Enable.”
“Command authorization theta theta eight nine. Codeword Halberd. Confirmed.”
The Captain says quietly, “Mr. Collins?”
Collins's pregnancy is plainly evident, and Kylah can see that her cabinmate is as terrified as she is. But the young woman’s voice shakes only a little as she turns towards Singh and says, “Computer, identify Collins, Lt. Jeremi, Acting Chief of Security... and Acting Second Officer.”
“Identification confirmed.”
She coughs and then says firmly, “I concur with the self-destruct order. Command authorization gamma omicron nine six. Codeword Glaive. Enable.”
By all the gods, Kylah thinks. She's willing to kill herself... and her child.
“Command authorization gamma omicron nine six. Codeword Glaive. Confirmed."
The Captain says, "Code zero zero zero destruct zero. Enable."
"Code zero zero zero destruct zero. Confirmed. Self-destruct authorization sequence complete. Please specify time to self-destruct.”
Roble says something to Singh which Kylah can’t hear over the klaxon. The Captain nods, her face a mask of stone, and says, “Begin an audible countdown. Self-destruct in twenty seconds, mark.” She eases herself into the big chair, wincing in pain as she does so.
“Acknowledged. Self-destruct countdown begins. Twenty... nineteen... eighteen….”
Roble steps closer to the Captain. She takes his hand and grasps it tightly.
Kylah suddenly notices that one of the bodies is Ferguson's.
She awakens with a poorly-stifled scream.
Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 13 Oct 2013 at 01:28 PM.
Kylah has been up since dawn--or what would be dawn, if they were on a planet. She hasn't been back to sleep since that horrifying dream.
When she first woke and finally calmed herself from the terrifying visions she'd dreamt, she looked around to remind herself of how false they were. The ship is calm, everything is as it should be. She noticed Collins still in a deep sleep, still in her clothes, and still above the covers. At the time, a flash of concern mingled with envy. It would be nice to be able to fall asleep so quickly one didn't even have time to undress, and certainly to sleep so soundly without waking.
At least waking early gave her one benefit: it enabled her to get to Sickbay and receive her daily shot, as prescribed by T'Var. Avoiding having anyone seeing her--apart from the night watch--was priority number one.
Now she's in the Mess, sitting alone and feeling conspicuous. The hypospray seemed to help steady her nerves somewhat. But still she keeps her eyes on her hot chocolate as if looking for answers in the drink's sweet, warm comfort. The nightmare haunts her. Just a dream. An illusion. You know why you dreamt it.
No more thoughts of dreams now. She pushes them aside. The mission gives her something to look forward to, and she wishes they'd arrive early.
Then the possibility of beaming down to the planet reminds her yet again of what happened last time, of Ferguson. His body... Kylah remembers feeling absolutely nothing when she saw his corpse in the dream. Is she such a monster that her subconscious wants him dead? Stop. It was nothing! A nightmare, that is all!
She shudders and wraps her hands around the warm mug. Most likely he will not be at the transporter controls, thank goodness, but the jolt of concern, together with the gnawing guilt from the nightmare, fills her with dread nonetheless. So much for the hypospray. She knew it wouldn't be a cure-all, but still she'd hoped...
Every now and then she glances up, looking for Graham. She has an agenda today and she plans on sticking to it.
In the Mess, Collins grabs some oatmeal and some coffee, nods greeting to those she passes, and sits at a table near, but not too close to, Kylah.
"Good morning, Ensign. Ready for the mission?" Collins asks her roommate.
It takes a few seconds for Kylah to respond, mainly because at first she didn't fully realize anyone was talking to her. And when she looks up and sees Collins, her eyes widen in surprise. This might be one of the first times her roommate has addressed her in a casual setting.
"Yes, Lieutenant, very much so," Kylah says carefully. Her fingers tighten against the mug and she tries to think of something to say in return. And you, are you ready for the mission this time? is clearly a poor choice, although the caustic question is the first thing that springs to mind.
Hastily Kylah sticks to something banal. "I tried not to wake you when I came in last night. I spent some time performing research on the spa and the planet's history, and hope I did not disturb you by keeping the lights on so long, or by leaving early this morning." She sighs and glances down at the mug, adding sincerely: "I do envy your ability to sleep so soundly."
Collins smirks inwardly. "Yes," she answers "I guess I was more exhausted than I'd thought. I just stretched out for a while to think about the mission," she lies, "the next thing I knew it was morning." She smiles at Kylah, then turns her attention to her datapad and reviews the mission briefing.
Graham sleep like a rock: same as always, he thinks, some get people nervous, but for me, a mission clears my head. The usual positive effect of having a clear, short-term purpose is complicated, however, by thoughts of Bennett. It’s nothing yet, he reminds himself. Probably won’t become anything either, he muses, if she comes to her senses. But what if it does become something? What if things come down to choosing between her and things that I need to do?
He’s oddly comforted again by the clarity in his mind: she’s gorgeous, but before it were to become anything, she would need to know she’d be getting involved with someone who has debts that need to be paid. He’s as resigned to this as he was resigned to the course of action got him demoted—and almost killed—a few years ago.
He showers and dresses quickly. The network of scars crisscrossing his torso also helps him focus. Every one represents is a time I was there when I was needed. And today’s list is enough to keep his mind off the consequences of the one time he wasn’t. Given Bennett’s request, he feels the need to keep an eye on T’Var—despite the fact that there’s still something about her that makes him suspect she’ll be able to do just fine on her own. And if anything his interaction with Kylah makes him more committed to figuring out what’s up with this Ferguson character—scumbag, he thinks. Something bad has happened to her, he’s convinced. And somebody needs to put a stop to it.
His unusual equanimity is only shaken briefly as he remembers the message he sent to his daughter. Someday she’s going to reply, he thinks, and then I don’t know what the hell I’ll do.
He has that same feeling as the door to the mess swooshes open: Kylah and Collins are the first people he notices, sitting near each other. Awkward to avoid, but he’s not sure what in the name of god he can or should say to Kylah at this point. He stands in the doorway a moment, wondering what to do.
Last edited by general_urko; 13 Oct 2013 at 10:13 PM. Reason: correcting italics
Having being visually dismissed by Collins--not unusual for the senior officer, as she rarely makes any attempt to continue conversations past the obligatory niceties--Kylah has again focused on her cooling drink while keeping her peripheral vision on the various doors to the Mess.
At last one of the figures entering the room turns out to be Ensign Graham. Kylah nearly spills her hot chocolate in her haste to get to her feet. She moves purposely toward the security officer, her face an emotionless mask. The thought occurs to her, as she nears Graham, that she wishes T'Var were around to witness this. But she hasn't seen the doctor in the Mess.
She reaches Graham, who seems to have noticed her. Somehow he seems taller and more intimidating than she remembered, but that may just be her mind playing tricks.
"Pardon me, Ensign Graham," she says quietly. Her voice is flat and she can't seem to invest any more energy into it. Kylah also finds it difficult to meet his gaze but she forces herself to do so, at least briefly, before looking down again. "I wish to apologize for what I said to you in Sickbay. It was uncalled for and I regret both my demeanor and any insult I caused you. I was overemotional, ill-mannered and unprofessional and--and perhaps that is what keeps causing my difficulties with others."
She cuts herself off, embarrassed about having blurted that last part--that wasn't what she planned to say at all. After a brief, awkward hesitation as she regrets what she's just expressed, Kylah stiffly holds out her hand. "I just meant... everything was my fault entirely. Please... I hope you will forgive me."
Last edited by choie; 13 Oct 2013 at 10:54 PM.
Graham feels a moment of anxiety as Kylah makes a beeline for him. As she profusely apologizes, he can't help but smile. She's not a child, he thinks, remembering their confrontation. But she's so young...and something is not right. He's relieved: if her previous hostility had been heartfelt and sustained, he would have had no idea how to deal with it. He tries to restrain his grin which he thinks must make him look goofy. "It's...ah...look, as a security officer I've been cussed at, slapped, had things thrown at me...all because I was trying to do my job. A few words were...it's all right."
He looks at her outstretched hand. Once again he is keenly aware of his own scars, But he accepts her handshake, and gently, but firmly, pulls her just a little closer and lowers his voice, trying to ensure only she can hear. Psychology is not his strong suite, but he's aware enough to know that what happened previously causes her to feel embarrassed.
"No one," he says, his smile gone and trying to keep his voice low and express the concern he feels, "has any right to treat you wrong. It's...you don't have to try deal with...whatever it is...alone, OK?"
He's torn, a bit: it's entirely possible that she's playing some kind of game, or that her culture--what was it Rangin had said? It's different?--means he's way off base. But his inclination is that she's a young woman his daughter's age that some son of a bitch is playing games with. And that makes him feel...protective is a word that comes to his mind, but he corrects that: homicidal is more accurate.
He releases her hand and starts to reach out to clasp her shoulder, but it doesn't feel right to him. He withdraws his hand and simply nods.
Kylah hears the hesitation in Graham's voice. She's used to men of his age who are nothing but certain: certain of their strength, their power, their rectitude. Yet, while Graham is obviously physically strong and--given his related tale from the other night--potentially dangerous, there's something vulnerable in his halting attempt to make light of her outburst yesterday. The knotted muscles in Kylah's shoulders start to relax.
But then he takes her hand and, without asking, draws her nearer.
Kylah's heart nearly leaps from her chest in terror and time seems to stop; no, not stop, but move backwards. Yesterday he told her she wasn't a child but with this single gesture, pulling her to him as if she's on a leash, she's become one again. Logic suddenly has no purchase in her mind, there's only a wild instinct to yank herself free and escape, options not afforded her when she really was a child. She inhales and is about to inadvertently cause a scene far worse than Ferguson did yesterday--one that will erase every bit of goodwill her words, and his, have engendered.
Suddenly he speaks again, intimately. But this type of intimacy is not what she expected: it's not the insidious intimacy of collusion, manipulation, or intimidation. It is merely gentle reassurance. "No one has any right to treat you wrong," he says, just managing to reach through Kylah's racing thoughts. Then he tells her she doesn't need to deal with things alone.
Kylah can't help herself. She looks up at him at last, eyes wide but intense, and pushes forward with her mind. She senses concern. Protectiveness. Anger--but not at her.
Graham releases his light grasp almost the instant he stops speaking. The paralysis that gripped her is also released, though much more tentatively. She can't believe how his earlier gesture affected her, or how much relief she feels now that the moment is over. She feels shame, too, at having ascribed sinister motives to him. Of course, it's possible this is a ruse, an attempt to gain her trust as a method to get past her defenses. It wouldn't be the first time someone played with her emotions this way.
Still, when she watches him nod, she nods back. "Thank you," she murmurs in a barely audible rush, "but I must deal with things alone. It is safer. And in the end there is really no other way, is there?"
Blinking, and remembering that this exchange is public, Kylah lifts her chin and continues more deliberately and formally: "I am grateful you do not hold my behavior against me, Mr. Graham. It will be a pleasure to serve with you on the mission." With a final bob of her head in acknowledgment, she turns and walks with as much dignity as she can back to her now-cold drink and solitary chair.
Collins notices out of the corner of her eye that Kylah has gone to greet and speak with Graham. She watches and waits for them to finish talking. When Kylah returns to her table, Collins waves Graham over to her table.
Graham exhales as Kylah walks away. He's relieved to see Collins wave him over: otherwise, he thinks, I might just stand here like a fool indefinitely trying to figure out what's going on. Clearly there is something, but he has no idea what--and obviously Kylah isn't likely to volunteer any further information.
He reminds himself that Collins told him Kylah was close to T'Var, and hopes he can find a way to talk to the doctor privately during the mission. Thinking of T'Var also calls to mind Bennett: he feels himself flush slightly. When he first came onboard, he was initially struck by her appearance. But as he thinks about last night, her voice and her story dominates his memory. He's certain that's due to more than her lilting accent--but speaking of standing around like a fool, he thinks, he puts sorting his feelings out off for later. Feelings, he muses...hell, plural. Complicated, I guess. Can't deny that...and..don't want to...I think.
He holds up a finger to Collins to indicate he needs a moment. He quickly grabs a cup of coffee and then approaches her table. He gives her a quick mock salute before sitting down. "So L-T, we're not exactly storming the barricades on this mission, eh? But still--any orders on the security game plan before we go?"
Rangin wanders into the mess hall having got distracted on route by a couple of friends. It had been good to catch up for a few minutes and then there were a couple more friends he had begun chatting to and he was slightly late.
Humming something under his breath, he wanders up and grabs breakfast before looking round the seating. Noticing the layout, he decides to grab the seat partway between Kylah and Collins and sits down with a jaunty "Good morning all." and a big contented smile.
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
As Graham moves to sit with Collins, Kylah watches him warily, wanting very much to trust him but not quite able to. Her gaze shifts when Rangin enters the Mess. Seeing his pleasant, easygoing manner feels more immediately calming than the anti-anxiety hypospray. Especially when he sits nearby and greets her, along with Collins and Graham at their table.
He seems to like everyone, Kylah thinks, both in admiration and some disappointment. Someone so affable and even-tempered is special indeed, at least compared to so many others Kylah knows. What she finds disappointing is that Rangin's cheerful demeanor is so universal. He treats everyone equally. A good trait, to be sure, but Kylah can't help wishing there were something...different... in how he treats her. I was the one to cancel our plans, she remembers with regret. If their relationship remains one of friendly colleagues, she is to blame.
Besides, Rangin doesn't seem the type who would waste time with someone as fractious and secretive, as fraught with problems as she is. Where he would have left the Ferguson issue alone, Kylah charged in and created an even more disturbing situation. Rangin avoids unnecessary confrontations while Kylah blunders into them and makes things worse. No, he would not seek out such a fool as she. A woman equally pleasant, charming and open--someone like that Bennett--that is the sort of woman Rangin would likely be drawn to.
Kylah returns his greeting with a simple "Good morning." Then, wanting more contact, she adds: "I... I must compliment you again on your presentation yesterday. I spent much of the night researching the planet's history and found little that you had not already covered."
She hates the words as soon as she says them. Even a Vulcan would have come up with a warmer turn of phrase.
Last edited by choie; 14 Oct 2013 at 05:40 PM.
"Just keep your eyes open," Collins tells Graham. She returns Rangin's greeting then turns back to Graham. "If I've learned anything after the last mission it's that the simpler things seem, the wronger they will go." She now includes Rangin and Kylah in her conversation. "We'll start with the station, make sure everything there is running smoothly, help them if they need it. Then we'll check out the spa." Collins really wishes they'd be able to stay at the spa and take advantage of its services, but she knows that's not on the docket. "It's observe and report only. No sampling. We'll talk to some of the guests as well as the staff before returning to the research station."
T'Var heads to the Mess Hall for her usual breakfast of Vulcan Spice Tea and a warm biscuit with honey and butter.
She joins the assembled group at their table. "Good morning, everyone."
The group has a pleasant breakfast together before being summoned to the Bridge. T'Var is just able to finish her tea.
On the Bridge, Capt. Singh is in the center chair. Cmdr. Vargas is seated at the Security console; he gestures to Collins and Graham to come over. Pourtash, at the Helm, says, "Now entering the Omicron Ceti system, ma’am." Bennett is beside him at Navigation.
“Sensors show three ships already in orbit of our destination, Captain,” Roble says from the Science console.
“Identify, please.”
He peers into the sensor reader to his left. “Scanning… it’s the starliner Empress of Berengaria, and two private yachts, the Trimalchio and the Fastolfe’s Chariot.”
There is a loud thud from the Engineering console. Everyone turns to see that Delaney has dropped a datapad. His expression is an odd mix of what Graham, who is nearest, could only describe as both chagrin and excitement. “Sorry,” Delaney mutters as he picks the pad back up.
"Slow to impulse, and establish standard orbit,” says the Captain. “Send my compliments to the masters of the three ships, Mr. Thalen, and then hail the research station."
The Andorian says, "Hailing... contact established with the station.”
The viewscreen clears from a picture of an M-class world growing ever larger, to that of a middle-aged black man in Science blue in what appears to be a lab. “Welcome, Yorktown. I’m Lt. Christopher Palver, director of the Starfleet research station here on OC3.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. I’m Capt. S.P. Singh. We’ll be beaming down our landing party shortly, if that suits you.”
“Of course, Captain. You’re right on time. Anthony Wilson, director of the resort, will meet us at the beamdown point. Here are the coordinates.” He reaches offscreen to touch a switch.
“Coordinates received and relayed to the Transporter Room, ma’am,” says Thalen.
“Very well. Thank you, Lt. Palver." She leans back. "Lt. JG Jeremi Collins and her people will see you in the next few minutes. We’ll begin beaming down your supplies within the hour.”
“Acknowledged, Yorktown, and thanks. OC3 out.”
Singh turns to Collins. “Proceed, Mr. Collins, and good luck.”
Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 14 Oct 2013 at 09:37 PM.
Graham struggles to keep his eyes on the viewscreen rather than Bennett. He's always found navigators a little intimidating: not that there weren't other disciplines that were over his head--such as engineering and all the sciences--but he understood very well what it was to operate a ship's weapons systems in combat. It seemed to him that navigators were doing the equivalent of that plus ten other things at once, with similar life-or-death consequences when things got tight.
Get focused, Booker, he thinks. You're on mission, and she'll think you're a weirdo if she catches you staring at the back of her head. In point of fact his eyes are drawn to her hands on the console: elegant, to be sure, but confident, strong--piloting a hundred thousand metric ton ship halfway across the galaxy strong. When she's a captain, he thinks, sure that she will be, maybe she'll want a knuckle-dragger like me along to manage security.
This thought evokes a pang: a strong woman wanted to rely on me before. Is this a chance to do right, or to repeat my mistakes?
Delaney dropping a datapad brings him back into the moment. Activity on the viewscreen: time to pay attention to who says what, body language, any hint at what's going on based on what you can see in the background. Not that hidden threats were likely on this mission: but I'm here to do a job, he reminds himself.
Last edited by general_urko; 15 Oct 2013 at 12:17 AM.
Kylah has been pondering the meanings of the three ships' beautiful names when she's distracted by Delaney's dropped datapad. She glances over at him briefly, surprised; he's never struck her as being clumsy--not a man who can fix a transporter under the threat of approaching cannibalistic creatures.
Then the Captain mentions that they'll be beaming over, rather than using a shuttle, and Kylah's heart gives a little jolt. If she had a datapad in her hands she might have dropped it herself. It takes every effort to keep her face neutral and she realizes that this entire mission will be a test of her ability to dissemble. One wrong move and T'Var will send her back.
Nevertheless, the thought of another mission beginning with a beam-down--especially after what happened yesterday--invokes an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu, despite how slim the chances are that he will be at the controls. Kylah unconsciously moves a little closer to Graham and takes slow, calming breaths.
Last edited by choie; 15 Oct 2013 at 12:48 AM.
Relaxed and calm, Rangin is happy standing on the bridge unobtrusively while those around carry out their duties. He tries not to smile at Delaney's slip with the datapad, but it seems that one of the ships has some meaning for him. He looks across at Collins, wondering what her current state is. She seems to have recovered from last night and no longer seems the distracted, nerve-ridden officer. Dr T'var is being as inscrutable as ever and Graham seems to be fairly solid and reliable, and an interesting sense of humour besides. Rangin doesn't need to look at Kylah to wonder what might be running through her head, because he wouldn't have a clue. But she is certainly trying to be friendly, her comments from breakfast seemed sincere, but she really needs to learn to relax a little more. She would probably do better if she wasn't trying to live up to some set of enforced expectation.
Then once the contact is made its time to head for the transporter room and down to the colony. Then the fun could begin. From the slides the planet was beautiful anyway and he was looking forward to walking through some of the areas if they were allowed.
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
T'Var, of course, watches everyone on the Bridge closely. Delaney and his datapad drop -- curious. Graham's momentary distraction while gazing at Bennett, then back to scanning the Bridge as she is doing -- most intriguing. Kylah, who seems to be fairly calm and focused -- hopefully the medication is helping her.
The doctor is fascinated by this mission and its challenges -- as well as its possibilities. T'Var smiles briefly. She enjoys a challenge and welcomes possibilities....
Collins looks over at Delaney when he drops the datapad, but doesn't react. Instead she assumes he recognizes the name of a ship he never expected to see again.
She listens as the Captain and the Lieutenant exchange greetings, then in response to the Captain. "Thank you, sir." As she heads to the turbolift, she calls to her team. "Let's hit it."
Rangin turns to Kylah alongside, "Ready?"
In the land of the blind, the one-arm man is king.
The landing party goes by turbolift to Transporter Room 1. Vice Adm. Hardin and Lt. Cmdr. Ebling meet you there, and the old man greets you, looking quite happy.
Lt. JG Collins, Dr. T'Var, Lt. JG Delaney, and Ensigns Rangin, Kylah and Graham each draw a phaser-1 and communicator from the equipment locker. T'Var also has her medikit and medical tricorder, Rangin and Kylah have standard tricorders, and Delaney has a tricorder and his engineer's toolkit on his hip. Others may draw a tricorder, if they wish.
"Mr. Collins," Transporter Chief Belinda Brady says, looking up from her console, "the research station is standing by. Who would you like to beam down first?" The transporter platform has six spaces.
Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 15 Oct 2013 at 11:53 AM.
After Kylah replies to Rangin with a somewhat distracted "Yes, thank you," she follows the others to Transporter Room 1. The sight of the Transporter Chief lifts her spirits at once. She takes her phaser and communicator and waits to be beamed down to the station. Now her heart beats faster thanks to a more pleasant anticipation of the mission ahead. Feeling almost buoyant, Kylah looks back at Rangin and gives him a warm smile of excitement.
"Delaney and Graham, you beam down with the Admiral and his aide," Collins tells the group, "We'll follow right after."
"Yes ma'am," Graham says.
He wonders for a moment about the wisdom sending the top brass down first--just in case something's not right on the ground--but it's ostensibly about as safe as an environment and not his call in any event.
He turns to Delaney and says: "Unlikely to be necessary, Lt. Delaney, but if it is--may I suggest you see to it the Admiral and his aide get to cover? I'll draw fire." He checks the charge and setting on his phaser, and adds a wink at the engineer.
Last edited by general_urko; 15 Oct 2013 at 10:49 PM.
The admiral, his flag aide, Graham and Delaney step up onto the transporter platform. "Energize," Collins orders, and they disappear into the transporter effect, reforming seconds later on the surface of Omicron Ceti III.
Graham looks around and sees the four are now standing on a thermocrete pad about ten meters wide. A very bright sun beats down on them; there are only a few clouds in the blue sky. The area around the pad is grassy, with bushes and trees rising around it, not far away, in almost every direction. Just to their left and about two hundred meters away is a thick white cylindrical tower, about sixty meters tall and also apparently made of thermocrete, featureless but for a band of thin horizontal windows on what appears to be the top floor. A blue Federation flag flies from a pole not far from the tower's entrance, and just beyond it, mostly hidden behind the building, is a large lake. The area reminds Delaney of the hill country of southern California.
Lt. Palver, whom the landing party saw earlier on the Bridge viewscreen, is walking down a pathway from the entrance towards the USS Yorktown contingent, accompanied by two people in civilian clothes. Collins and the rest of the landing party materialize on the pad just as Palver and the others arrive.
Last edited by Elendil's Heir; 16 Oct 2013 at 12:23 AM.
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