The Darkness That Binds
Posted on Feb 10, 2015 @ 12:55am by
Edited on on Feb 10, 2015 @ 12:56am
Mission: Limbo
“The Darkness That Binds”
=/\=
“I do not speak as I think, I do not think as I should, and so it all goes on in helpless darkness.”
--Kafka
=/\=
Location: LIMBO
Scene: Customs
No matter where you travel in the universe, no matter how small or large, how metropolitan or remote, how new or old the world, there are some universal assumptions that one can always make.
Travel time is inversely proportion; that is to say the closer you are to your destination the slower time moves. It is increasingly difficult to travel with someone new especially the older or more established you become. And every place likes to keep track of who's coming and who's going. If you're a Starfleet officer, the the official logs takes care of this governmental hurdle for you but for those poor souls who come through on their own then they must endure the bureaucratic nightmare that is...Customs.
They were here on LIMBO...but Montoya wasn’t. Her mind was far away, to those blissful first few weeks of freedom away from Rawyvin. It was better than sex, flying, and beer all in one. And then he...
“Next,” the bored agent called out.
“Now remember what I said, pet,” Rawyvin said.
Montoya spared an eye for him but said nothing. Physically she was here, in LIMBO, fucking LIMBO. A place as well as state of being. She had left Earth and thought that she left Rawyvin behind her. Jumped on the first ride which happened to be going to SIRIUS; fine with her.
Except that half way along the ride they had made an unscheduled stop at TAU CELI and Montoya, who was far from a believer in any kind of superstition, felt a tingling along her spine. She bolted up from her seat in mid-cabin, pushing past the random nameless passengers to where she could peer out the port window.
Summa-bitch was walking up the gangplank. He had more lives than the proverbial cat; she knew she left him for dead in a church - it was damn perfect. How the ever living fuck did he get *here* on *her* ship?
“Next,” the bored agent called out.
Montoya shook her head and willing herself to come back to LIMBO but she couldn’t, her mind looped back to that damn ship. What was it called? She couldn’t even remember now. But her mind was stuck there. She remembered the navy floors that squeaked inappropriately when you walked; she remembered the odd smells that the staff pumped through the air filtration system to cover the lack of the biofiltration.
She sat in her room for two nights after watching Rawyvin coming up the gangplank, two days and two nights of barricading herself in her port room that she had scared off anyone else from.
Sqeek
Lemons
Squeek
Lemons
Squeek
Lemons
~~~Ring~~~
[[Evangeline? I know you’re there.]]
Lemons
[[We need to talk. Now don’t be immature.]]
Squeek
Just as she exhaled she heard, [[Fine don’t listen to me. You’ll be listening to the authorities. But don’t say I didn’t warn you...pet.]]
Fear gripped her heart; she couldn’t have the authorities find her. She wiped down everything. Hadn’t she? But Rawyvin walked out of the church so then what did that about her own planning? Kahless on a pogo stick, Montoya thought to herself, she was doomed.
The rest was a blur - not much talking. Lots of yelling...Montoya threatening to leave...and then he took out his “toys”...
“Next,” the bored agent called out.
“Remember the story, pet?” Rawyvin asked, the depths of his silver eyes unfathomable as he stared off in the distance beyond the Customs’ desk. When the Human woman said nothing he raised a dark eyebrow while he knitted his fingers together.
Montoya said nothing.
“”Next,” the bored agent finally called out motioning for them to come forward.
The Human woman listened impassionately as Rawyvin tried his charm on a government official. In another universe this would have been amusing but her capacity had been stripped raw like so much else recently. Rolling her shoulders painfully she looked around wondering when they’d get to leave, wondering when Rawyvin would just shut the hell up so the Customs officer could do his damn job…
“Ma’am can you come with me?”
Montoya shook her head out of her own turbulent thoughts. Raising her eyesbrows she looked over at the officer.
“Ma’am, we’ve randomly selected you for a screening.” The officer waved her over to an office in the back; as Rawyvin started to follow the officer barked, “Sir, you’re to stay here. You’re clear to go to LIMBO.”
Montoya followed along quietly as Rawyvin protested loudly that Montoya, and his luggage, were being taken to the backroom. The Human woman wondered what was going on; looking around what had to be the most boring room in most seemingly at least on PADD- bureaucratic place was just adding to the strangeness of her life. It should have been sterile except this place hadn’t been cleaned since Vulcans made First Contact.
“Have a seat,” the officer said point to a chair as he got to business to opening up the suitcase.
As she sat gingerly on the silver hard chair that was missing half its cushion, Montoya looked as the officer pawned through her and Rawyvin’s clothing. “Coming here for the sights?” he asked.
Montoya nodded.
“There are no sights on LIMBO,” the officer pointed out as he kept digging.
The Human woman looked around the room and realized there was nothing to see; no window, no pictures, nothing to distract her.
“People come here to meet up with others, to catch a flight, or to do something they shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t care but I do,” the officer continued on. “And something about the two of you is setting me off.” The officer paused his pawing through the suitcase to look at Montoya, “And why are you sitting on the edge of your chair? Sit back.”
Squeek
Lemons.
Squeek
Lemons
The words almost choked her but somehow she pushed past the bile. She involuntarily shuddered causing the nerve endings along her spine to flare where her skin was still raw to flare up. “I-I-can’t sit back,” she whispered.
The officer said nothing but his hand was still far down in the suitcase. Pulling out his hand he looked down and then pulled out a long white tentacled apparatus, dried blood still caked on its long steel tips. “It’s because of this? And what else I’ll find isn’t it?”
Montoya’s brown eyes flickered to the door for a long minute and then back to the Customs Officer. “I’ve said too much,” she said quietly.
“He won’t know,” the officer replied.
A hundred different things bubbled up that Montoya thought to say. She wanted to tell him about what happened on that nameless ship. She’d tell him about what happened in Paris but she did it because she was tired of the put-downs. She wanted to tell him about what happened before that on...where the eff was that Risa, maybe? She couldn’t remember where she jumped on Rawyvin’s merry-go-fuck-round of torture but it had been so long that it was as much a part of her was her tattoos.
There was so much wanted to say but the words stayed lodged in her throat. Instead they were blocked by one thing: he will know if I tell.
And that thought was more effective than any restraint.
The officer put down the apparatus into the suitcase and leaned into say something else when the door burst open, “She’s free to go; the word came from high up.” Another officer came in with a PADD and passed it over.
The first officer looked as if to say something but read something on the PADD and sighed. Closing up the suitcase he passed it back to Montoya without another word.
As she walked out with the suitcase, Rawyvin smiled at her while grabbing her elbow. “Pet, don’t tell me I have to take out our little friend.”
He knew.
=/\=
Scene: Orion Mercantile Association
“I understand you’re a man who knows how to get things done,” the Orion business woman said to Rawyvin, “for a Human that is.”
Montoya looked around the Association listening half-heartedly to Rawyvin make his deal. Since he was in his element here, he was less concerned with her; that left her free to be nosy. For a bunch of runners in lucrative industries she was expecting a nicer layout. Then again perhaps these folks didn’t keep any of it for themselves like Seth would. Or perhaps they weren’t as successful as they pretended to be. No skin off her nose either way.
“So my associate and I are just who you need,” she heard Rawyvin promise.
Fucking fantastic, what was he promising now that fathead behind the desk? Should she listen? Probably but then again he wouldn’t listen to her so why should she listen to him? Sticking her head around the corner she looked and saw a few people poking their heads in and out of corners. They were dressed like every other fuck here but there was something odd about them…
“What are you looking at?”
Montoya looked up at the Gorn at the door, aka Gubba, who was growling down at her. “Your dental hygiene issues,” she said in a manner that conveyed her utter and complete boredom, trying to muster up some shell of her former self. When he growled she rolled her eyes, “Oh come on you brought that upon yourself.”
“Are you insulting me?”
“If insulting you is as simple as commenting that you haven’t owned a toothbrush for the last decade? Then yes.” Montoya asked. Shaking her head outside the door she pointed out, “Or maybe we should be more focused on what’s going on out there?”
Gubba looked out the door and shrugged. “Not my concern,” he said, “unless they try to come here.”
Montoya sighed; he didn’t get it. He didn’t see what she almost saw and now didn’t see -- people who were darting in and out of crowds just *so*. She knew that move, had done that move a long time ago in another lifetime. It was textbook…she could go to them...
Squeek.
Lemons.
Squeek.
Lemons.
And that was when the proverbial other shoe dropped. She was fucked. So, so, so fucked. She couldn’t rely on Starfleet anymore either. It was her stuck with an abusive sadist. Turning back to Gubba the Gorn she sighed, “So what do you do for fun?”
“I don’t do fun,” Gubba growled.
“Of course you don’t,” Montoya sighed. Turning to the wiggling Orion dancing girl she rolled her eyes, “How nice you jiggle, can you go get me a drink? I’m going to need something to block out this whole experience.” Taking the drink she toasted to no one in particular, “If only he’d stayed dead in Paris. Good times.”
=/\=
NRPG: Rather than give the specifics of *how* Rawyvin got out of the mess in Paris (why not leave the mystery! ;-) ) I thought I’d focus on why Montoya is still with a sadist and what looks like now and where they are on LIMBO. Plus now we have Gubba the Gorn!
It seems Montoya saw someone but stuck her head back inside. Who did she see? ;-) And remember she’s so warped now she won’t want to see anyone, won’t want to talk anyone, is pretty screwy herself, yadda, yadda, yadda ;-) So *tag* for whomever wants it!
=/\=
Sarah Albertini-Bond
~writing for~
Evangeline Montoya
