CHAPTER 03: The Captain of My Soul [02: Shock & Denial]
Chapter 03: The Captain of My Soul [02: Shock & Denial]
[ USS Theurgy | Crew Quarters/Senior Staff Quarters | 0710 hrs. ] Attn: Any character not in 01: Resurrection
Throughout the Theurgy, the crew was waking up, some of which would be resuming their duties on the Alpha shift. For while the Festival of the Moon may have lasted until the middle of the night, and many had drunk a bit more than they should, it did not mean that there wasn't a tomorrow waiting for them. A day that might bring shame and regret, or contentment and joy. Yet some may wake in shock - unable to deny what must have happened and also failing to remember how it came to be they woke up where they did. Or with whom.
[ Rihen Neyah ] Attn: Anyone
Her short blonde hair impervious to being dishevelled, and her face even more angelic when she slept, Rihen Neyah slowly opened her heterochromatic eyes where she lay on her bed - white sheets barely covering her bare body. It took her a couple of seconds to blink and focus upon the face of the person next to her, but when the sight and the memories came to her, her lips spread in a bright smile - the corners of her eyes creasing in delight.
She sat up in the bed, pulling up the corner of her blanket to barely preserve her modesty - done more out of common habit than any need to really cover herself. She ruffled her own hair with her free hand and then covered her mouth when she yawned - smile soon returning afterwards. "Good morning. You fell asleep quite fast after we completed Jamaharon. I trust you were satisfied with my companionship?"
[ Evelyn Rawley ] Attn: Anyone
When Rawley woke up with a sour curse, she was only wearing socks, flight boots and someone's unzipped undershirt. She was sitting by the small table in her quarters - feet crossed upon said table - and her neck hurt from sleeping with her head tilted forth. With eyes bleary and a bloody headache reaching as far down as her teeth, she glared around the room and put her feet down - replacing them by her elbows upon the table as she clutched her shaved head. "Fucking hell..."
On the table stood an empty bottle of whiskey, and her panties were lassoed around its neck. The rest of her quarters seemed to be on more of a disarray than usual, and... she wasn't alone. Eyes narrowing to make out who the moving figure was, she cleaned her dry teeth with her tongue so that she could speak without her lips getting stuck. "Hey, what the bloody fuck happened last night?"
[ ThanIda zh'Wann ] Attn: Anyone
Deputy zh'Wann was already in her shower, the water running down her back as she slowly lathered herself up. Her white hair was a wet waterfall down her back, and her antennae were lowered in thought while streams of water poured down her neck.
She was looking down at the drain as a little whirlpool appeared inside it and began sucking up the water coursing down her form. She tried to imagine that the water was actually her fears, doubts, and depression that was going down the drain, allowing the vessel that would be her body to be empty of all. Maybe a few drops here and there, but it'd be gone. Sadly, this could not be. The fact of the pending meeting with the Senior Staff still remained, and the revelation still due.
Ida needed to think her troubles would go down the drain. She knew it was far from the truth, yet she still needed this product of her imagination. She set her hands against the wall of the stall, just staring at the drain as the soap slid down her legs and fell from her body. She let her mind run amok and allowed herself time to finally think; making the sounds of the water smacking against the floor block out all other sounds in the Galaxy. Everything... besides her thoughts.
She needed to tell Wenn Cinn about her transfer request before the meeting. She owed him nothing, but the Ridgenose still deserved to know ahead of the announcement.
[Deputy zh'Wann,] said Thea's voice over the intercom in the bathroom, [you have a visitor by the door, and it appears you are unable to hear the signals. Shall I tell your visitor to return later?]
Ida's antenna angled down and she hissed between her teeth. "Who is it?"
After being told, she soon stepped out and wrapped a large towel around herself, going to answer the door - her face stony and eyes as sharp as they always were on duty.
[ Soo Young Seung ] Attn: Anyone
Groaning, Soo rolled over. The party had ended hours ago but the pounding in her head hadn't stopped, or even lessened. Inside her fractured mind, she promised to never drink again, which she did every time she had a hangover. She wiped the crust from her brown eyes, and the vicious light that assaulted her made her cringe. Quickly, she closed them again and buried her face in the pillow.
What happened last night? She couldn't remember. After she had a private little time with the Ovri nurse, everything was a blur of music and shots, which had soon turned to complete oblivion. The last thing Soo could remember somewhat clearly was talking to someone - probably not a hologram - at the bar. And then... nothing.
She moaned into the soft pillow. It was time to get something for her headache. She rolled over, and slammed her elbow into a pillow. A pillow that grunted.
Her eyes widened. This is not happening... No bloody way. Slowly, she looked behind her, eyes bleary. Doing so, she also realised that she was as naked as the day she was born. Oh, shit...
[ Winterbourne ] Attn: Aisha S'Ithi
His peaceful, pleasant sleep was cut short as his world turned from a secluded black to a sudden flash of light. Dazed and still half asleep, Cale Winterbourne blinked, and then opened his eyes to be greeted with a ray of light that escaped from the bedroom door of his quarters - left slightly ajar. Riptor? came his thought, guessing that the tall fighter pilot from the Harbinger had suddenly left.
With a grunt, Cale meant to roll to the side but found his left arm pinned. Blearily, he tried to move his arm, but all sense of touch stopped past the elbow. Confused, he turned his head, perplexed at being stuck and at the loss of feeling in his hand. The world was still out of focus, but after a few blinks the Helmsman discovered the cause - lit by the narrow light from the door that had been left ajar. Oh, yeah... Now I remember...
Riptor and he hadn't been alone last night. Aisha S'Ithi's dark-haired head lay nestled in the crook of his arm. Her soft but steady breathing could be felt on his shoulder. Cale smiled for himself as he admired the Cardassian's slightly scaled features in the beam of light. Her nose rubbed gently against his skin with the rise and fall of her breathing. With a stifled yawn, Cale also noticed her limp hand weighing down his chest - her fingers arched slightly.
Cale lifted his free arm and gently took her hand. He thought her fingers give a reflexive squeeze. As he slowly become more awake, Cale also notice how incredibly cold his legs were. Lifting his head groggily, he saw his bare legs completely exposed, the blankets twisted across their upper bodies, and the only warm spot being where the Cardassian's leg was bent across his. He was about to rectify this when he paused.
Why... is there voices coming from the main room? Was Zaraq still with them too?
Glancing towards Aisha again, Cale did his best to gently disentangle himself from her, trying to not wake her up. Then he got on his feet, realising that he had no clothes on. He looked about, finding a pair of black boxers to pull on before he walked to the door - looking out the small gap before opening the door.
He saw Riptor. He stood with his back towards Cale, fully dressed, and he had just answered the door - someone standing in the corridor. They were silent, and it looked like the one that had chimed the door to Cale's quarters was stroking Riptor's face - a hand on his cheek. A sudden pang of jealousy hit Cale upon seeing it, thinking the fighter pilot had a lover he did not know about. But just as Cale stepped out to ask, Riptor nodded to the one outside... and stepped out. Gone as the door shut behind him.
"Ript-?" Cale had begun, but fell silent when he was left alone, running a hand through his white hair in confusion. Then he returned to the bedroom...
[ Narik Cinsaj ] Attn: Anyone
As soon as Narik Cinsaj awoke, she knew that she had made a mistake.
The Boslic groaned, the headache she had not being one that you'd get from a simple synthehol drink or two. It wasn't often that she was that drunk but whenever it happened, she'd done something bad. She tried to open her eyes but the light that flooded into the bedroom of her VIP quarters was too bright.
But wait, in her new rooms... the door was on the right side. Drizzt, where am I? She lifted the sheets over her marked forehead, trying to hide from reality... and noticed how crude they felt. They smelled strangely. She had to find out where she was. She tried to open her eyes a second time and looked around, finding out that she, indeed, was not in her new luxurious rooms. She lifted herself up into a sitting position and just then, she noticed that she wasn't wearing anything but a Starfleet undershirt... which certainly wasn't hers. She thought about it for a second; which person that she knew wore the colour of the undershirt? Too many.
She closed her eyes and tried to even her breathing. She stood up, zipped the undershirt to her neck... and walked to the door, opening it and making her way through the Starfleet quarters to find out who she had stayed with during the night.
When she did, Narik leaned against the door frame... feeling extremely awkward.
[ Hannah von Slaverton ]
Nightmare awoke, thinking she was alone with her happenstance lover from late last night.
She'd had no idea Klingons were so rough lovers before she picked up Zaraq by one of the bars. He was the new Master-of-Arms, tall and strong with a past that bespoke her taste in men. Dangerous and with a sad story, exiled as he was and not able to return to his House on the Klingon homeworld. It had not taken many minutes before she had mustered the courage to ask him home to her quarters, and admittedly, the drinks she'd had might have helped some as well. In either case, Zaraq had followed her home, and they'd ended their Festival with some personal fireworks in her bed.
Yet when she opened her eyes, they were not alone.
"What are..." she began, sitting up with a frown towards the shadow standing by the bed, one hand placed upon Zaraq's face. He had his eyes closed, sleeping, but when Hannah spoke, he opened his eyes - looking up at the dark figure in the room. Hannah felt fear building in her chest, even if she was not easily frightened. The silhouette had sharp ears, like a demon, and it made stories from her childhood on Mars come to mind. It took her a couple of seconds to realise that they were Vulcan ears. "Computer, lights!"
The eyes that met Hannah when the lamps lit were completely dead - void of remorse. Her uniform collar was red, and she had three pips - halcyon beauty made terrible by the implications of the situation. It was Commander T'Rena of the Harbinger. The First Officer. The Winter Queen.
"Who the hell do you thin-" said Hannah, eyes darting to the hand on Zaraq's face. "What are you doing to him?"
"What is necessary for the mission," said the Vulcan quietly, just as she removed her fingers from the Klingon. "I will make you understand as well."
"Like hell you are! I don't know wha-"
"Silence her."
The strike was instant and brutal, sending Nightmare into the wall beside the bed. Zar-raq? She was disoriented, did not know how many seconds passed, but when she came to, she was on all fours - her hips held high by rough hands. She was about to scream, but the familiar feeling of Zaraq's ridged cock, forcing itself into her sex, completely drove the breath from her lungs. She flailed, scratched the floor, but before she got enough air down her lungs, T'Rena had crouched down next to her - a fine-boned hand thrust down upon the side of her head. She could only let out an animal mewl in protest to the meld as it set in.
But... in a couple of seconds... she did understand.
Soon, she even began to move in answer to Zaraq, knowing what her ultimate duty aboard would be.
[ Sjaandin ]
How did he end up on the floor?
Vivid impressions coursed through Sjaandin Fedd's mind, channelled through him by the woman that had climbed on top of him. Had she been at the door? Cir'Cie, the Vulcan from the Science Department. It was her that straddled him, right? The botanist. His head was ringing, hurting, and it wasn't from any headache. His torso hurt too. Had he been struck down to the floor? He had trouble thinking straight, his mind not completely his own. Nor was his body, since the Vulcan had taken possession of him, one hand upon his cheek and with fingers splayed across his forehead. A mind meld? Cir'Cie's other hand had pulled down the underwear that he had slept in, and was now stroking his cock to arousal. Why is she..? His mind doubled back in confusion, a last resort as the meld aligned him to her viewpoint. No, it had not been her at the door.
No, indeed, through Cir'Cie's memory, he saw that it had been a man. A tall man with a beard, and he had stood in the corridor when Sjaandin opened. He recognised himself in the doorway, but the human had to have been from the Harbinger. Otherwise he'd remember that face. Well, he could not say he knew the entirety of the Theurgy's crew, but a giant of a man such like the one in the corridor he'd remember. Sjaandin had answered in his underwear, asked him what was the matter. Then... A strike to his abdomen. He had doubled over. He almost retched upon the floor. The second strike had come over the back of his head.
"Your compliance is required. Please do not resist." Cir'Cie, her face impassive - void of feeling - had made him hard with her hand. How did she end up naked? Was she trying to? Of course. Yes, the meld had told him the reason. Of course she tried to get him aroused. It made perfect sense that she wanted to have sex. They would need to reproduce for the long voyage, and Cir'Cie had picked him as a candidate to impregnate her. The meld had showed him what had to be done, and it made it easier to make the anger at being assaulted subside. If that did not soothe him, his empathic abilities could sense Cir'Cie deciding that it was time... well before she acted on her thought. She raised her hips and guided him against her Vulcan sex - letting him enter her... sinking down unto him.
When she did, her hand removed from his face, Sjaandin saw the figure behind her. It was the man that had stood outside the door, and he was naked as well - grinning to Sjaandin from across Cir'Cie's bobbing shoulder. "It sure makes sense, doesn't it?" said the bearded man, white teeth glinting. "If we are to win, we can't do anything foolish. We need the time and the numbers, or rather... the time to make those numbers."
Sjaandin grunted, Cir'Cie thrusting herself down on him - hands upon his chest. "Yes-s," he said, "It is the only way."
Nodding as he chuckled, the bearded man sank down on his knees behind Cir'Cie. He spat in his hand, lubing himself up, and then grabbed Cir'Cie's hips. The short-haired woman did not pause her movements on top of Sjaandin, but when the bearded man pushed inside her anus, the Vulcan did blink. Once. Yet that was the extent of her initial discomfort before she surrendered the control to the two men inside her - the both of them moving in sync. Mind and intent alike.
Captain Vasser was their only salvation, no matter the cost.
The subject will probably react to learning of the loss with numbed disbelief. It may even deny the reality of the loss at some level in order to avoid the pain. The sense of shock provide emotional protection for the subject; a means to avoid being overwhelmed all at once. Depending on the subject, this feeling may last for an undetermined amount of time.
- Manipulation of Grief, by Host named cin Nicander