The Rub

Posted on Sun Jan 29th, 2012 @ 4:44am by Lieutenant Cedric Shepherd

1,588 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Fishing
Location: USS Ranger, Deck 2, Shepherd's quarters
Timeline: 6 hours after Going Down

Cedric almost trudged through the door to his quarters. His eyes felt like he had sand in them, hours spent staring at his readings for the slightest fluctuation in shield integrity or pressure noncompensation. A dull ache throbbed between his shoulders, born of staying head-down in his screens for an extended period. The door hushed closed behind him and the lights came on dim, accompanied by a status panel gently pulsing the ongoing blue alert. He rolled his shoulders and unzipped his jumpsuit.

"Computer," he sighed. "Music."

"Specify," warbled the disembodied voice of the computer.

He was too tired to specify. "Play whatever I was listening to last."

He shook out of the rest of his uniform accompanied by the meditative violins and lilting oboe of Scheherazade. Pulling out of his duty tunic and undershirt, he scratched absently at the elastic of his shorts as he moved toward the fresher. With things on the bridge determined to be moving smoothly, several of the senior staff were rotating assistance into their positions and taking a break. Cedric intended to grab a quick hour of sleep before resuming his duties.

This could be additionally frustrating, he knew. Halliwell and Kendrick were at a cease-fire for the moment, and he had his next status meeting scheduled with Kendrick tomorrow. That would be a doozy if Ranger were still underwater; Kendrick had made her opinion on this move clear, and the longer the ship spent submerged, Cedric imagined, the crankier Kendrick would get about it. While on some level he knew he could decide not to care about Kendrick's crankiness (as long as she wasn't driving Halliwell to distraction, she could be as cranky as she pleased), he knew that her attitude would influence her interactions, and he didn't relish sitting through a meeting with Kendrick's tone dialed up to "extra-snide".

Right at this moment, however, he was too drained to muster the energy to fret. Adjusting his shorts to the sound of the autoflush, he wandered back into the room, aiming his steps at his bed, when the doorchime toned.

"Mashallah," he sighed, letting his head loll back as he rubbed his neck. He knew he should answer quickly. It was his duty to be available to the crew. And it wasn't as though he could pretend to be absent. The computer could peg his location on board for anyone who cared to ask. Still, he allowed himself a selfish moment: "Computer, who is at the door?"

"Lieutenant Telana," came the dispassionate reply.

Telana? Was there a problem in Engineering? He snatched for a nearby pair of linen trousers, and had them mostly pulled on when he hit the door control. "What's wrong?" he said, almost a bark.

Telana held up a hand in gentle surrender, and smiled a disarming smile. "Nothing's wrong."

Cedric hesitated a moment, then blinked hard and shook his head. "Sorry. It's been a long morning."

"I could tell," she replied. "You looked really tense when you left the bridge."

Cedric cocked his head, wondering how she could know anything about how he left the bridge. Then it came to him. She had been coming onto the bridge with a status report for Halliwell as he was leaving. He hadn't even registered it at the time. That was probably bad form.

"It's been a long morning," he repeated lamely, shrugging a vague sort of apology. She appeared not to be bothered, though, which he took as a good thing.

"Can I come in?" she asked, glancing first down the corridor, and then giving him a once-over.

"Oh!" he blurted. "Yes. Yes, come in," he stood back from the door, and kicked his discarded uniform into a corner. "You'll have to forgive me, though. I'm probably not entertaining company right at this moment."

"Don't worry," she smiled, setting onto a side table the pouch she had been holding in her other hand. "I'm not staying long. But I thought I might be able to help you relax."

He was suddenly very alert, and inwardly sighed. "Telana," he said after a moment, "I appreciate that you have a cultural heritage where this kind of service is common, and I appreciate that you've promised me some kind of reward for saving your life, but this isn't necessary. I appreciate the ges--ture," he added, slowing further as he realized that she was on the brink of laughter, "but I... I'm... Am I misreading this?"

Telana gave a husky alto giggle, her Orion femininity undeniable, but her eyes were devoid of seduction and her tone was playful rather than sultry. "First, Federation citizens don't really understand Orion cultural heritage, so don't flatter yourself thinking you know what I am and am not expected to provide a man. Second, While it's very possible that I'll wake up in your bed someday, today's not that day. Today's about a shoulder rub," she paused to spin one of the armless chairs around. "Sit backwards," she pointed to the chair.

Cedric laughed. "Then I am a jackass. I apologize," he added as he laid a leg around the back of the chair.

"Don't worry about it," she lilted, unzipping her pouch to retrieve a smallish jar while he laid his head sideways against the top of the chair back and closed his eyes. Working a measure of woodsy ointment into her hands, she commenced a deep dig into the muscles of his shoulders. Her hands were strong, and her ointment gave her hands just enough glide and warmth to accent the therapy.

"Sweet mercies, that's good," he mumbled, sagging slightly as she worked at an especially stubborn knot. His mind idly considered what his shoulders would look like from Telana's perspective. This trailed into an imagining of what Telana's shoulders would look like at this moment, flexing and rolling to propel her hands across his flesh. Perhaps it was just the Orion template working on him as an observer, but he always felt like Telana moved with an unconscious hint of sensuality, and the mental picture of her working shoulders slid across her imaginary back before he actively stopped himself. She was a junior officer, and as much as she had been gently throwing herself at him for weeks now he still stumbled over the concept of simply taking what she was offering. That she sought karmic balance of some kind was admirable. But giving herself to him felt like overkill. This shoulder massage, however, felt like just the ticket.

He opened his eyes slightly, catching sight of her vibrant green hand sliding along his own espresso-toned skin. "So," he asked, shifting slightly so he could speak more clearly, "what do I need to know about the Orion cultural heritage that I've insulted today? I'd hate to insult it again."

"Hmm," she considered a moment. "Well, the biggest and worst-kept secret is that the women are actually in charge."

"I've heard that, but I've never believed it," said Cedric, a little incredulous.

"Women run Orion society. It's true," she added over his chuckle, leaning close to his ear and whispering in a register that for a moment bespoke carnal appetite and sweat-slicked skin and hot-blooded acts of passion. "You already know what Orion women can do to men. You don't think we figured out how to use that to our advantage?"

"That's a fair point," Cedric half-nodded, most of his cheek still laid against the chair top, grateful for the moment he was facing away from Telana so that he wouldn't present any obvious signs of the effect her whispers had on him. When she straightened and kept kneading his trapezia, he cleared his throat and ventured, "so you let the men think they're in charge?"

"Oh no," she corrected. "The men and women know the score full well. It's been really effective when you think about it. Women are making the decisions, but the men create the front that the women don't know anything. Did you ever have a pet?"

"I had a hamster when I was young."

"Did you ever tell it a secret?"

Cedric thought a moment. "Very nice. If people think you don't think and can't clearly communicate, they'll tell you things in order to make themselves feel better. And then you have the information."

"You got it," said Telana. "The funniest part is that almost everybody suspects it, but nobody ever believes it enough to defeat it. So people go on telling their secrets to Orion courtesans, and the Orions go right on keeping their Syndicate strong."

"What if I report you?" Cedric joked.

"Nobody would believe you," he could hear the playful shrug in her voice. "Your report might even get to an admiral, but to get the truth he'd call an Orion ambassador who'd bring him a slave, she'd push her pheromones up and her skirts down, and your admiral would forget all about your report."

"Sly," remarked Cedric.

"Smart," corrected Telana, drawing a gasp of appreciation from the big man as she finished loosening the last clutch across his scapula. "Feel better?"

"Much, thank you," he replied, taking the removal of her hands as a sign that he should stand.

"Get a little sleep, yes?" she asked as she repacked her pouch and made to leave.

"Yes," he grinned, seeing her out.

"Dream of me," she winked, timing it perfectly to hit just before the door closed.

He stood a few moments, then chuckled. "Probably," he murmured to himself, shaking his head slowly. "Probably."

 

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