Post by Lt. Commander Liz Sur'Shess on Nov 1, 2013 19:12:24 GMT -8
The bridge wouldn't register that she was there. Nothing answered her, none of the controls or voice commands or access codes that she knew like the back of her own hand. She ran from station to station, even trying the ones she'd never had a reason to touch--the science stations, and the small console the chief counselor or whatever other unlucky, useless member of the crew found their way to the bridge, had to use...but none of them would answer her.
It was as if she weren't there. As if she'd disappeared, fallen into some netherworld where she was no longer who she was, where matter had lost its true meaning. Atoms came disconnected somewhere, loosening the world from its proper tether, setting her loose in some nebulous nothingness that had no connection to anything she could get her feet against. She was free-falling in the familiar bridge, and breath came too fast in her lungs.
A dream.
Somehow, the thought registered, but it didn't console her, and she banged against her console, shouting obscenities and supplications, begging her ship to let her in, to allow her to fix it...
"My wife was just transported away and now the Captain is missing too."
The voice was empty, coming from nowhere. But no, it was Kinin speaking, standing at the turbolift doors, face expressionless, pregnant belly straining against her uniform. "My husband is missing," she said in the same flat voice. "He is missing, too. Why is he missing?"
"Scan the area..." Commander Tyne's voice entered the fray, but it wasn't the Commander she was familiar with, it was Robin, standing behind his station. An unfamiliar man sat at the conn, and he had no trouble accessing the controls. He answered in the affirmative to Commander Star's orders, but what he hit wasn't a scan, and Liz tried to shout, to warn Robin, but Kinin was behind her, grabbing her by the elbows, so hard that the bones ground together in her arms and Liz could only scream in pain and anger as a black hole opened beneath her feet, a black hole that threatened to suck her in. She grabbed hold of Kinin, trying to find purchase, and somehow she was facing the Klingon, and Robin was there, too, having moved across the void.
"Red alert," Robin hissed, so close to her face that she felt the phantom whisper of breath. And then he pushed her.
She sat up so quickly, she felt a muscle in her neck twinge. Her chest was heaving, entire body soaked with sweat, hair straggling into her face. She closed her eyes, the image of Robin's face, twisted in anger and betrayal, still imprinted on the back of her eyelids, and she made herself open her eyes again, take a deep breath.
She vaulted out of bed so quickly that she made the sheet drift a few inches back in the wind of her passing. She tore across her bedroom, into the main living area where she took the mek'leth down from her wall with a good deal more force than necessary.
Steadiness. That was what was necessary. She had to be steady; steady hands, steady heart, steady mind. Only then could one be a steady warrior. She settled into the resting position, hands spaced along the hilt of the sword, feet shoulder-width apart. Steady hands. The sword was part of her arm, her arm part of her torso, her torso her center. The tip steadied, flowing outward, whirling around quicker than the eye could track, her feet settling into a new stance. Steady heart. Her center, rooted on the gravity of the ship, keyed to the steady thrum of the ship's engines, the beat of the universe a finger's length away. A galaxy on the edge of her blade, whirling through the air, slicing past her head. Steady mind. Nothing but the sword, the movement of her feet, the whisk of the sword against air.
Fear, failure; what were they? Distractions, a moment within a life....
The anger on Robin's face, Kinin's monotone hiss....
She stopped dead in the middle of the floor, breath even and slow, eyes staring into nothing for a long moment. She needed to get away, away from this ship, from the memory of it all. From this room. From the bridge. Her gaze landed on the planet out the window, and her mind instantly seized on the escape it presented. She dropped the mek'leth on the floor, heedless of her attempt at calm now, and got dressed in record time, jeans and jumper and boots, before dashing out the door, intent on nothing other than the transporter and getting far, far away.
End Liz
It was as if she weren't there. As if she'd disappeared, fallen into some netherworld where she was no longer who she was, where matter had lost its true meaning. Atoms came disconnected somewhere, loosening the world from its proper tether, setting her loose in some nebulous nothingness that had no connection to anything she could get her feet against. She was free-falling in the familiar bridge, and breath came too fast in her lungs.
A dream.
Somehow, the thought registered, but it didn't console her, and she banged against her console, shouting obscenities and supplications, begging her ship to let her in, to allow her to fix it...
"My wife was just transported away and now the Captain is missing too."
The voice was empty, coming from nowhere. But no, it was Kinin speaking, standing at the turbolift doors, face expressionless, pregnant belly straining against her uniform. "My husband is missing," she said in the same flat voice. "He is missing, too. Why is he missing?"
"Scan the area..." Commander Tyne's voice entered the fray, but it wasn't the Commander she was familiar with, it was Robin, standing behind his station. An unfamiliar man sat at the conn, and he had no trouble accessing the controls. He answered in the affirmative to Commander Star's orders, but what he hit wasn't a scan, and Liz tried to shout, to warn Robin, but Kinin was behind her, grabbing her by the elbows, so hard that the bones ground together in her arms and Liz could only scream in pain and anger as a black hole opened beneath her feet, a black hole that threatened to suck her in. She grabbed hold of Kinin, trying to find purchase, and somehow she was facing the Klingon, and Robin was there, too, having moved across the void.
"Red alert," Robin hissed, so close to her face that she felt the phantom whisper of breath. And then he pushed her.
She sat up so quickly, she felt a muscle in her neck twinge. Her chest was heaving, entire body soaked with sweat, hair straggling into her face. She closed her eyes, the image of Robin's face, twisted in anger and betrayal, still imprinted on the back of her eyelids, and she made herself open her eyes again, take a deep breath.
She vaulted out of bed so quickly that she made the sheet drift a few inches back in the wind of her passing. She tore across her bedroom, into the main living area where she took the mek'leth down from her wall with a good deal more force than necessary.
Steadiness. That was what was necessary. She had to be steady; steady hands, steady heart, steady mind. Only then could one be a steady warrior. She settled into the resting position, hands spaced along the hilt of the sword, feet shoulder-width apart. Steady hands. The sword was part of her arm, her arm part of her torso, her torso her center. The tip steadied, flowing outward, whirling around quicker than the eye could track, her feet settling into a new stance. Steady heart. Her center, rooted on the gravity of the ship, keyed to the steady thrum of the ship's engines, the beat of the universe a finger's length away. A galaxy on the edge of her blade, whirling through the air, slicing past her head. Steady mind. Nothing but the sword, the movement of her feet, the whisk of the sword against air.
Fear, failure; what were they? Distractions, a moment within a life....
The anger on Robin's face, Kinin's monotone hiss....
She stopped dead in the middle of the floor, breath even and slow, eyes staring into nothing for a long moment. She needed to get away, away from this ship, from the memory of it all. From this room. From the bridge. Her gaze landed on the planet out the window, and her mind instantly seized on the escape it presented. She dropped the mek'leth on the floor, heedless of her attempt at calm now, and got dressed in record time, jeans and jumper and boots, before dashing out the door, intent on nothing other than the transporter and getting far, far away.
End Liz