Afterglow

Posted on Jul 04, 2016 @ 5:24pm by Lieutenant Eve Dalziel
Edited on on Jul 04, 2016 @ 5:24pm

Mission: Fortress: Earth

“Afterglow”
(Continued from “Cabinet Battle”)

=/\=

Would he walk on water? Would he run through fire?
Would he stand before you when it's down to the wire?
Would he give his life up to be all he can?
Is that, is that, is that, how you measure a man?
“Measure of a Man”, Clay Aiken

=/\=

Location: USS ZHUKOV
SD: [2.16]0607.2007
Scene: Ready Room → Bridge

He grabbed her left shoulder, shaking it. Siobhan reflexively stuck her opposite arm straight out and went right for his neck.

“Captain!” he wheezed.

Reardon opened her eyes and realized she was trying to throttle her ExO. “Sorry,” she said, releasing her grasp immediately. Had she been having a nightmare? “How long was I asleep?”

Commander Britt rubbed his throat where her nails had dug in. “Two hours. You told me to get you after two hours.”

“So I did,” she answered apologetically as she struggled to balance adrenaline with exhaustion. She made her way to the replicator, ordered, and quickly dispatched a shot of espresso. Sio gestured to her reluctant concierge if he needed anything, but he quickly turned her down.

“It’s Summer’s turn next time you don’t think an alarm clock is going to wake you,” he joked with an Aussie twang. “Shall we?”

Reardon turned the small cup in to be reclaimed, then followed Jonah out. “Status please, Summer,” she said looking up to the Ops station.

“We are approximately seven minutes from EARTH. There are no civilian ships left in orbit.”

“Anything on the vessel that the SUMTER picked up for us?”

“Captain Kinderman checked in about an hour ago. He’s convinced the ship isn’t related to the Neo-Essentialist movement, but he’s going to question the crew and search the ship thoroughly. He said ‘it smacks of smuggling’.”

Sio smiled. Her Ktarian Operations Officer wasn’t quite familiar with the old pirate lingo. “Please patch me through to Admiral Marxx.”

With Commander Naamah’s usual efficiency, the viewscreen transitioned from space, to the Federation logo, to the face of Dexter Marxx.

{{Give me some good news, Captain.}}

“How about… all non authorized ships have either been relocated or detained. The fleet is free to pursue next steps.”

He nodded. {{Thanks. I think that qualifies. Anything else?}}

Sio hesitated. There were a lot of things swirling around in her brain. But none of them were necessary, or appropriate. “Do we have any further orders?” She searched Marxx’s face for any clues, but all that she could detect was worry and weariness. He looked tired. But then again, they were all tired.

{{Not yet,}} Dex said with obvious frustration. {{Keep the channels clear for any orders or instructions.}}

“We’ll be standing by,” Reardon agreed. With that, Marxx gave her a guarded look of approval and cut the transmission.

Siobhan turned around and took her center seat. “How long until Gamma Shift?” she asked the half Trill ExO.

“Half an hour.”

“Good. I want both of you off the Bridge for the shift change. You’ve earned some sleep.”

“I have the conn for Gamma shift,” Britt said matter-of-factly.

Sio volleyed right back. “Not today you don’t. I need you both back here fresh so I can take a turn. Understood?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Summer Naamah agreed quickly.

Commander Britt, on the other hand, didn’t look nearly as convinced. “I feel like I’m being grounded. But you did almost strangle me to death, so it’s okay.”

“Good man. I almost thought I was going to have to make that an order.”


=/\=

Location: USS PHOENIX
Scene: Holodeck 3

The rebel fleet, including the PHOENIX, was nearing the point of no return in their quest to confront and defeat Richard Edgerton. However, with the Aegis shield as yet indestructible, and the improbable idea to send Barton through the net clad in little more than a glorified spacesuit, there wasn’t a place for all that stress to go. So, it was passed among the personnel like a hot potato. Even a fair to middling empath could notice the difference. The very rhythm of the ship was disrupted... and so was Eve’s confidence.

What made it worse was the sinking feeling that she was an absolute hypocrite. She’d chosen a life of service years ago, preferring to build people up instead of being ordered to kill them under the guise of Intel pursuits, but had she done anything truly helpful since her arrival on the flagship? She had been too busy trying to defend her position and explain her techniques to see Barton holding himself together with work, worry, and bailing wire. She had failed him. And where there was one, there were probably others.

As soon as Eve could feel her feet under her again, and convinced herself she did have a heart (and it was still beating), she left her office to resume the workout that had been interrupted.

With a quick dodge and a small thud, her fist found satisfying, if not perfect, contact with the assailant’s left shoulder. The light was dim in the urban cityscape environment she had created. The sun lolled in a permanent just-past-sunset, leaving the sky a grayish azure and reducing visibility further. A light drizzle was falling. It matched her mood.

Her imaginary opponent swung his leg around and kicked her in the midsection before she had a chance to stop him. Eve stumbled, but did not fall. She raised her arm from the awkward position, blocking a potential hit.

She took the block as a hopeful sign. Eve sprang forward, fists flying in an attempt to put the Romulan on guard. She had his upper body well covered but he swept her leg with his own, knocking her to the ground. She landed on her arm and shoulder, but she didn’t feel anything crack, so she rolled to one side and righted herself again.

Every muscle in her body was tense. Her extremities were taut and ready to flee. But she did not retreat. She saw his left arm rising, but instead of providing defense, she watched it all the way up. He hit the soft tissue above her right jaw with a clumsy hook. Even though her anatomy moved against the force, it was involuntary. Her feet stayed planted as she let the bright pain sear into her. It made her feel alive. A living fuck up. Eve sighed, and she could feel her face throbbing.

“Computer, remove sparring partner.”

The swarthy man dissolved into nothing, leaving the gritty concrete jungle behind. Eve shuddered as she finally felt the damp clothing she was wearing. She walked on the asphalt, next to a basketball court framed with a metal chain fence. She pulled at it, and felt the swaying give it had. It wasn’t strong enough. But there was a dilapidated building next to the court that seemed like it would serve her purpose. She pressed against it to make certain it wouldn’t crumble, then backed away a few feet, pivoted on her left hip and planted her right foot into a brick wall, hard. There was a dull pain and a vibration that resonated up her leg, but it didn’t deter her from repeating the motion several more times, like she was kicking someone in the face. It was her simulation; she could have made another figure materialize in frozen perfection and beaten them to a pulp.

But that really wasn’t what she wanted. The old brick building was next to an intersection, flanked by a metal road sign. It was a red octagon trimmed in white with the word “stop” printed on it in block letters. Someone had decided it would be funny to take white spray paint and make a slash mark across it, as if that would negate its meaning to a motorist.

She planted one foot in front of the other and held her clenched arms near her chin. Then she took a sharp breath and hit the center of the sign with one fist, then the other. She counted ten hits, then decided counting was overrated. Her hands began to slide against the sign, slick with blood from her cracked knuckles and broken skin. The sounds of each contact coalesced into words. **Enough… is… enough.**

The Counsellor wanted the pain to help her forget. To turn things back. To give her a physical reminder of the loathing she felt inside. Still, a nagging bit of positivity held on, reminding her that none of those things were as important as moving forward. She’d practically ordered Barton to go past his problems. Somehow, she had to do the same.

Eve saw something flicker at the corner of her field of vision, so she stopped hitting the sign and turned her head to find a familiar face peering at her through her sensor net.

“Did ya wan’ some help with that?” the Marine asked with a smirk.

Dalziel walked over and slid down the nearby wall until her ass hit the ground. Part of her face was bruising already, a technicolor mix of purple and maroon. Her hands oozed a brackish muddy crimson, a darker, drabber shade than human blood. She bent her legs and draped her arms over them. “No, thank you, Kass.” She leaned back and closed her eyes for a second.

The older woman could recognize the cracks of desperation in Eve’s capable facade. She’d had the same expression outside of the Vulgar Tribble when things had gone completely tits up. “Trust me. Cade’ll fix ya right up. There’s not even a line right now.”

The dark-haired woman raised her head to glare. “Maybe I don’t want to be fixed… did that *ever* occur to you?”

Kass walked over and sat down next to Eve. It was a rare moment that the Major was in a better frame of mind than the Cardassian born Counsellor, but perhaps it was allowed. After all, Barton didn’t need to be the only one having a red-letter day. “What happened?”

“James fucking Prophecy fucking Barton. That’s what happened.” Eve’s breathing had slowed a little as she rested, her eyes downcast into the gravel and weeds beneath them.

Kass’ face played with a smile. “Callin’ cards all around, I reckon.”

“Sure. Who are we to deny a dying man his last rites,” Eve said flatly.

“So, did ya make peace with ol’ Jebediah?”

“Fuck no… I made a mess of things.”

“You? Nah.”

“I can’t decide which was more heinous. Me screaming bloody murder at him, or the point where he was trying to communicate actual shit with me and I was still playing the martyr.”

“It coulda been worse,” Kass intoned softly.

“I don’t think so.” Silence hung comfortably between the two women. Their desire to be honest was common ground. Perhaps tact was lacking on Kassandra’s behalf, but that had never bothered Dalziel.

“Well, um, you two didn’t duke it out, did ya?” Thytos asked, knowing full well Barton wouldn’t have had the time.

Eve shook her head. “No, this is just my penance.”

“Holy hell woman. Ya couldn’t get a hobby?”

Dalziel’s expression was sharp enough to cut transparent aluminum. “What? Like drinking, or blowing things up? That sound better?” Kass raised a finger, was about to say something, then thought better of it.

Eve looked petulant. “You’re not the boss of me. I do what I want.”

“I got underpants older than you. So don’t go off’n git cocky on me. And what about Kane?”

“I’ll clean up. I’ll straighten up and fly right. It’s what I do ninety-nine percent of the time. It’s still better odds than the miserable lot of you.” The pale woman grinned, then winced as the smile hit her swollen cheek.

“So, no fight with the grumpy sonofabitch.” Kassandra was checking off an imaginary laundry list in her head. “Ya didn’t end up in the sack with him then, did ya?” she practically snorted, nudging the Cns in the ribs with her elbow.

“No!” Eve protested. “It’s already gotten too unprofessional.”

The Marine laughed. “Then it ain’t the end of the world.”

Eve took a closer look at the redhead. She was relaxed. The hardass demeanor that she seemed to wear like a cozy sweater most of the time was gone. “How did you know Cade wasn’t busy?”

“I jus’ got back from visitin’ the man.”

“Why?”

“The usual- roughhousin’ in the Gym. Soldierin’ injuries.”

“But you weren’t sparring with your squadron, were you?”

“Naw. I told Barton I wanted to punch him square in the face and he took me up on it.”

“You couldn’t just talk it out?”

“Do I look like an Ambassador to Qo'nos or somethin’?”

“Don’t pull that dumb Marine shit with me,” Eve cut her eyes at the woman. “I know you’re perfectly capable of diplomacy when you want to be. I’ve seen you ooze charm when it suits you.”

“Well, okay, we did try a diplomatic approach first, but it didn’t work.” Kass looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable under Eve’s gaze, and the woman got the distinct impression that Kassandra was prevaricating.

“You didn’t end up in a screaming match again did you?” Eve asked, one eyebrow arched.

“Ah. No. Not as such, no. And I don’t scream, anyway. I speak loud an’ forcefully.” Kassandra’s eyes didn’t meet Eve’s, which in itself wasn’t abnormal if it weren’t for the fact that it was intentional. Kassandra may have had no sight for almost two decades, but it still wasn’t long enough for her to eradicate all the microexpressions having to do with sight.

“And? How did he seem to you?” Eve searched Kassandra’s face, and the woman squirmed.

“Ah, he was fine. Good. Yeah.” Kassandra coughed, and started to sidle away. “Listen, I’m just gonna-”

“Wait a minute… You… You slept with him. Didn’t you!” Eve was horrified.

“Ah, I don’t rightly think that’s any of your business, an’ even if I did, I’m not sure why you’re lookin’ at me like you caught me kickin’ puppies, or somethin’!”

Eve fought to keep her voice calm. “I’m... well, I’m concerned about Jim’s emotional state… usually things like intimacy aren’t exactly healthy for someone going through a crisis.” Accidentally or not, Kass had just confided in her and even though the subject matter was problematic, having someone talk to her like a friend, rather than a Counsellor, was a moment she didn’t want to spoil.

Kassandra grunted. “Bullshit. A roll’n the hay ain’t no reason for feelin’ nothin’. It’s a purely physical release. You can either run ten miles, or practice a little pelvic diplomacy.” She almost looked smug.

Eve raised an eyebrow at the ‘terminology’. “Of all the hostile negotiations training I’ve had, that’s *not* one of the options they told us about.”

“Advanced tactic,” Thytos quipped.

“Did he seem… alright after? No outbursts?”

“Nah, nothin’ unusual... Or at least nothin’ outside his nutjob wheelhouse. But he wasn’t okay after I kicked his ass in the Gym.” Kassandra had a cheeky grin.

“If you both had to go to Sickbay, I’d bet he’s saying he won.”

The Marine laughed. “I might agree to a draw. Maybe arm wrassle for a tie breaker.”

“I think I’d like to see that.”

“Then let’s make a circus outta the whole shebang. We’ll sell tickets.” They both laughed. Then another pause. “You ready to go?”

Eve shook her head. “Almost.”

“What’s still eatin’ ya?”

“Tell me Kass, you’re a Captain in the Corps, have you ever had to put someone in action who may not have been completely fit for it, because they were the best person for the job?”

The blind woman’s mouth drew into a thin, hard line. “More times than I wanna say.”

“How’d you deal with it?”

“Eh, most of the time I was in the field with them. Showin’ em I was willin’ an’ able to work in the foxholes. Gettin’ down an’ dirty. Leadin’ by example.”

Dalziel looked crestfallen. “That won’t work. Unless Crichton builds a skydiving suit for two.”

“You’re needed up here. I think you should let Chastity have this one.”

“Yeah, I did. But I didn’t feel good about it.”

“It’s dangerous. He could die. If you didn’t have some misgivin’s you wouldn’t be decent.”

“I believe in his abilities. But…” her voice trailed off as she flexed her sore hands.

“But what?”

“I think I’m the problem. Not him.”

There was no pretense this time. Kass looked Eve straight in the eye. “You’re as full of shit as I am, Dalziel.”

“No.. hear me out. I left Intel behind because I really thought I could help people. And I’ve helped my share. But what does Kane need right now- not a shoulder to lean or a nice talk over tea. He needs good Intel about the Aegis shield. Information I haven’t been able to provide.”

“He knows you’re givin’ your best.”

“My best isn’t good enough. And when Barton spoke to me in my office today… it made me think I had made the wrong choice. Perhaps Starfleet could have used one more Intel officer instead of another Counsellor.”

“Ain’t that just too fuckin’ bad. Is this your idea of a pity party?” Kass spat, gesturing to the holodeck.

“I was hoping you would understand.”

“Oh I do. For someone as book smart as you, you’re not gettin’ the most important thing.”

“And what is that?”

“The road to where we are right now is paved with bad decisions. Mine. Barton’s. Kane’s. Yours. Prolly the others too. There’s so many piled on, none of us can see clear of this mess. So forgive me if I’m not too concerned you chose poorly on Career Day.”

“I’m sorry.”

Kass stood up and motioned for Eve to do the same. “For chrissake, quit apologizin’.”

Lieutenant Dalziel managed a weak smile as she slowly got up. “Okay. What else?”

“Get your ass to Sickbay, then get back to work. If you care anythin’ at all ‘bout Jebediah, it’s the least you can do.”


=/\=

Location: USS SUMTER
Scene: Corridor→ Conference Room

The shackled man followed the Security officer sedately, while another Security officer came up the rear. It was, for lack of a better term, a criminal sandwich. His dark hair hung in his face defiantly, but it was no use trying to do anything while in restraints, other than shake his head to the right a little… and even that felt stupid. So he stopped, forcibly content to look at the tan walls and federal blue carpet through a shaggy curtain. The ship was dated, but well kept.

Marsh wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep in the brig. But it had been long enough to clear a few more cobwebs from his addled mind. He took a deep breath of the familiar air. It wasn’t fresh, per se, but it was a comforting staleness. The staleness of home turf.

Smith resisted the urge to feel “safe”. He may have been on a Starfleet vessel, but to them he was just part of an enemy smuggler’s crew. A prisoner. He chuckled softly at the irony. Most of the SUMTER’s crew looked more like pirates- literally- than he did. That, along with all the turmoil between the alliance and whatever the hell the Neo-Essentialists were doing with the planet, and he didn’t feel like he was sure of which dog he had in this hunt.

The lead guy buzzed them into the conference room.

“How did we get here so soon, fellas?” the undercover officer joked as he crossed the threshold. “I’d do a jig but I’m a little bit encumbered at the moment.” He was met with stony silence as the men flanked him, ready to vaporize him like a bug if he so much looked at them the wrong way.

“Tough crowd,” Marsh assessed as he looked to the Captain, who was the only one there besides himself and his guard buddies.

“Welcome. Have a seat,” he said, gesturing towards the head of the table. He was wearing a vermillion frock coat, along with some kind of plaid cravat. Black pants were loosely tucked into black buckle boots, the fabric billowing over the boot tops. Marshall thought he’d left out a headpiece until he saw the a plumed yellow hat with a curled brim on the ubiquitous oval table that was a feature of conference rooms everywhere. “Can I get you anything?”

“Coffee, please,” the prisoner said without hesitation. The next few minutes were spent in silence as Sly brought Smith a large cup of the steaming liquid, and watching him manage to get more than two-thirds of it to disappear in record time, cradling the cup in both tethered hands like he was holding on to a newborn.

Meanwhile, Sylvester Kinderman took his place across from the man. He’d gotten the report on the merchant ship down in Cargo Bay two. It was cramped on the inside, designed for speed and agility, not comfort. The others shared the unkempt, inconvenienced look the Human male did. “How long?”

Smith followed Kinderman’s icy, wizened stare. The elder man had steely hair tied off in a short queue, and a hard set jaw stippled with a neatly tended five o’clock shadow. “It’s been months since I had anything resembling real coffee,” he said. “Thank you.”

Sylvester Kinderman’s eyes did not move from the penetrating stare that he learned many years ago. Age had only served to perfect it. The only motion that was partially noticeable was the subtle movement of his unconventional uniform as his lungs filled and emptied with the recycled air. Blinking only once, Sly reached into the frills of his coat before retrieving a small pair of spectacles and placed them upon the bridge of his nose. He once again looked at Smith’s face.

“Nope didn’t help, you still be, well let’s just say the lasses need not worry,” Sylvester stated softly before folding the glasses once again and placing them into their respective holster, “Whose side you be on, anyway?”

“That was my question for you.”

Nodding Sylvester smiled a toothy grin before leaning back slightly fulling resting his body into the comforts of the chair, “confused are ye?”

“More so curious, than confused.”

“Ye know that ye be captured, and suspect that we may be an unsavory sort?”

“Have you know many pirates that weren’t? I mean you all are just looking for booty.”

Laughing with such force that his body shook Sylvester nodded, “ye be not wrong. Although, ye be not right.”

Smith’s expression had not changed the entire time during the short exchange. The only reaction other than the occasional retort was the sip from the cup of coffee lowering its level a few more points moving it to the inevitable end of the last drop. It had been only a few short minutes but he had been observing, learning all that he could about his current situation.

Kinderman continued his gaze only interrupting it to lean to his right as a subordinate moved close to his ear. Nodding once he returned to facing Smith, his eyes softening before inhaling deeply and standing to his feet.

“Excuse’n me... Mister? I apologize, but you hadn’t given your name.”

Smith nodded, grinning widely. “I don’t believe I have.”

“Well I suppose I should break the ice then. I am Captain Sylvester Kinderman of the USS SUMTER. Those who know me call me Sly.”

“Captain Kinderman, why did you stop the Hammer from entering Earth’s atmosphere? My Captain was in a bit of a hurry to deliver his goods and move on to the next job.”

“And might some of those aforementioned goods be illegal or undocumented?”

“You’d have to ask him. I just keep the bucket of bolts flying straight. You didn’t answer my question. Why can’t we go about our business?”

“Did ye not hear the announcement of Captain Reardon? The defense system currently raised planetside has unknown variables. We have good reason to believe your ship would have been blown to smithereens.” Sly stopped short of revealing what else he knew.

Kinderman must have been referring to the Aegis shield, Marsh thought. “Then I suppose I should thank you again, for saving our lives.”

“You’ll pardon me for sayin’ so, but you’re a strange bird. Not too many thieves or criminals that be so polite.”

“And there’s not any Starfleet crews I know of that operate the way you do.”

The old man’s eyes reflected reminiscence. “Our commission was to be over, but the Neo-Essentialist conflict allowed us to remain involved. Even with the odds against us, there is no place we’d rather be than among the stars.”

Marsh wasn’t the best judge of character, but the odd man in pirate finery didn’t appear to be telling anything but the truth. So, it was time to come clean. “My name is Commander Marshall Smith, Starfleet Intel. I’ve been on assignment for approximately eight months trying to bust open a smuggling ring. But I hadn’t planned on the planet being on lockdown as I headed home.”

Kinderman stroked his chin thoughtfully. “That puts us in quite the predicament, now doesn’t it?”

“That’s an understatement, I’m the one in handcuffs, remember?”

Sly chuckled. “No, we have bigger problems than that.”

“I’m not one of Edgerton's men, if that’s what you mean.”

“Oh, verily, I believe that. Otherwise you wouldn’t have tried to bust through a network of connected satellites that are likely booby-trapped. What I’m worried about is being able to prove you are who you say you are. It’s not like Intel is going to give us the time of day. They have more pressing matters.”

Sly expected the man to be upset, but as the entirety of the situation was brought to Marsh’s attention, he started laughing out loud. “I’m one lucky bastard.”

“Have you gone mad, Smith?”

“Maybe. But that has nothing to do with my present situation.”

“Now it’s my turn to be curious. What are ye aiming at, Commander?”

“I have a contact in the Rebel fleet who can vouch for me.”

“You could have said that earlier, son. Who is it?”

“Lieutenant Eve Dalziel, aboard the PHOENIX.”


***
NRPG: Thank you Alix and Justin!!!

Susan Ledbetter
Lieutenant Eve Dalziel
Cns
USS PHOENIX

Captain Siobhan Reardon
CO
USS ZHUKOV