The Voices Don't Like You (part 7)

Posted on Sat Mar 28th, 2015 @ 10:56am by Captain T'mpest Michaels & Lieutenant Commander Orin ch’Valri & Lieutenant JG Morgana 'Deathstrike' DeViro & Master Chief Petty Officer John 'Disaster-piece' Douglas

1,039 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: What Dreams May Come

[CONTINUED]

[OLD]

She paused for a long moment, her hand still in his, and listened. "They are still there, but farther away." However, for the time they were in the meld, there'd been nothing but Orin. She wanted to stay and talk about what happened, or just hold on to the lingering effects of the meld, but not with the others hovering around. She stepped back, her hand slipping from his; two fingers lingered for the briefest of moments in a Vulcan caress. "Your team needs to assure themselves that you are well," she said quietly.

[NEW]


"I'm sorry." Orin said softly as he tried to hold onto her fingers as long as he could before allowing them to slip from his fingertips. "I'm sorry that it didn't help. I wish it did."

"Do not be sorry. It was..." What words could she use that would be both accurate and appropriate? "Worth the attempt." But she felt almost bereft without the physical or mental contact and a part of her needed to get away and examine what happened and why she felt the way she did. She took a step towards the door and paused again. "If you have any other ideas, please let me know."

Orin nodded, adding a hidden smile as he replied to her. "I will do that." He stood up straight as he smile slowly faded, but it remain hidden behind his stern look. "At least I've earned your trust. Hopefully."

"Trust." It was becoming easier to act like her normal self. She raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of humor in her eyes. "Yes, I believe you have made inroads in that direction."

She turned to John and Morgana and bowed. "Good day," she said formally. Then she turned back to the door, still feeling shaky but not letting the others notice. Her eyes met Orin's for a moment and she inclined her head. "And you. There is a drink in the replicator that will help in your recover. It bears the dubious title of metaberry. Please, drink some."

She'd lingered far too long. The voices and the mind meld had affected her far more than she cared to admit. It was time she took her leave and went to her quarters to meditate or simply think. She stood straight and once again headed for the door.

Orin watched her leave, even going as far as bearing through the light as it entered the room once the door opened. He didn't turn away, despite the stinging pain running through his eyes. He couldn't stop thinking about what just happened, neither could he stop thinking about Cross and Blake. The feeling of losing them was unbearable, but now he couldn't stop himself from thinking about being without T'mpest.

"Boss? You okay?" Morgana asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Fine, Lieutenant." Orin replied sternly as he walked back over to his desk and picked up his goggles. He needed some time to think. Time to sort everyone out. He certainly wasn't going to do it in here. As he slipped his goggles on, he turned to Morgana and said. "Remain here, acting as dispatch for the teams. If any problems come up, contact me. I need... to be alone."

Before Morgana could say anything, Orin was already out the door. She grew more and more concerned by the minute.

"Hey Strike. Come here." John said as he called out to her from the desk.

She walked over to him and placed her hands on her hips. "What is it, D?"

"Check this out." John replied as he tapped on the unbroken console and brought up the last file. "This was marked as the last thing the Boss was looking at before."

Morgana looked over and was shocked to see the files of both Colin Cross and Gregory Blake. They were two former members of their team that didn't make it. Lost in a firefight with the Orion Syndicate while recovering an undercover Intelligence Officer. "Why would he be looking into their file?"

"I don't know." John replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked over to Morgana with a look of concern. "Whatever the reason, it can't be good."


T'mpest walked out into the corridor, still a bit bemused after the mind meld. She automatically turned towards her Ready Room to go back to work. She hadn't reached the turbolift when she paused. A flash of something she couldn't quite grasp intruded on her thoughts. A memory? Something she'd read once? Something Orin had read once? At the moment she wasn't sure. But it felt important. Something to do with what was happening with the Ranger.

She needed to find out what was so important, but she wasn't sure if she needed to meditate or do research.

"Are you okay, Commander?" a young Ensign asked, interrupting her thoughts and makign her realize she was still standing in the corridor.

T'mpest looked up and gave a brief nod. "I am fine. I was simply trying to recall something." It would do no good to stand there, so she decided to go to Intel. At least there she would have the option of doing either.

She had not gone far when she felt a rush of...something, followed immediately by an angry growl. "This is all your fault!" a large male in a yellow Starfleet uniform yelled.

He charged at her, a spanner wielded like a weapon. She blocked the blow with her forearm and picked the man up, tossing him to the ground a good ten yards down the corridor while she pulled the spanner from his hand. "You are confined to quarters, Ensign."

He got up and lunged at her again. This time, she deflected the attack and used a Vulcan Nerve Pinch to disable him. He dropped to the ground and she stood, straightening her uniform. The conditions on the Ranger were deteriorating. The brief reprise in Orin's office was clearly over.

____
OFF

Commander T'mpest Michaels
Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Orin ch'Valri
Chief Security/Tactical Officer

Lieutenant JG Morgana "Deathstrike" DeViro
Assistant Chief Security/Tactical Officer

Petty Officer 1st Class John "Disaster-piece" Douglas
Security Officer

 

RSS Feed