<USS Avalon> Re: "Oh Sure, Why Not?" (Moreya, Fielding)
- From: pboopter@xxxxxxxxxxx
- To: avalon@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Tue, 10 Apr 2012 05:01:44 +0000 (UTC)
perhaps it is time i got of my rear and started to participate more.....
----- Original Message -----
From: "Jamie Lawson" <ayeshalan@xxxxxxxxx>
To: avalon@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sent: Tuesday, April 10, 2012 12:20:39 AM
Subject: <USS Avalon> "Oh Sure, Why Not?" (Moreya, Fielding)
Oh Sure, Why Not?
Moreya, Fielding
2012:04:08
[Also contains an excerpt from “Why Worry,” Skyler and Moreya.]
Moreya had retreated to Georgia Lewis’ office just off the Sickbay main floor,
and found herself dropping into one of the side chairs a moment before she
would have fallen into it. Retreated , she thought. Yes, that’s what I did.
But from what?
The disaster of an expedition to the Andromeda station? She shook her head
roughly, annoyed at the unwelcome thought -- unwelcome, and inaccurate
besides. No one was killed, Lt. Xavier was recovering and quite clearly
herself again, and they had rescued a survivor. With any luck she would
recover her senses as quickly as the Security officer had.
Am I running from Skyler? No! Why would Moreya want to step away from her
friend and commanding officer? She knows you better than anyone on this ship.
Better than anyone alive ...
She smacked that thought down, hard. Not going there. Not. Going. There.
She put her hands over her face and pressed, willing herself to calm. The pain
behind her eyes was spreading, filling the front of her skull and now and then
radiating tendrils over the crown and past her temples. She embraced the pain
as a welcome alternative to chaos, feeling it in all its colors, flavors,
textures. Pain is but another sensation, she reminded herself. A sensation is
to be experienced, in all its forms. Experience first. Questions later.
She sat up a little straighter in the chair, taking several deep breaths. The
pain was under control -- at least a little. She could ignore it if she needed
to. She felt through herself, realizing that she was sweating -- and in so
doing, shedding massive amounts of distress pheremones. Heaven help the other
Deltans on this ship if I don’t take care of that right now. With several
more deep breaths, she had reasserted her control, and felt herself relaxing.
Perhaps now she could afford a half hour or so of quiet meditation -- it would
have to serve in place of sleep.
But it was not long after she closed her eyes that she did fall asleep, and
found herself dreaming, of a memory ...
Skyler was sitting there feeling the sensations that Moreya was transmitting
through her hands and began to tremble. She wasn't sure why, since it had never
happened at any other occasion. She turned around and took Moreya's hands in
hers and looked at them. "You have exquisite hands my friend."
The Deltan looked down at their hands locked together, and then up again, into
Skyler's eyes. "Thank you," she said. "How much do you know of Deltans,
Skyler? Do you want to try and communicate fully, completely, with me? It is
not without its own risks, and I would not see you come to harm for anything."
Skyler looked into Moreya's eyes riveted. "Moreya, we have known each other for
a long time and I know that you would never do anything to hurt me or anyone
else. I may not know much about Deltans but I do know how much I trust you. So
in answer to your question....yes, I would like to try and communicate with
you, completely and fully."
"Then I will show you how Deltans communicate -- and make love, for to us they
are all part of the same thing." She paused a moment, and then offered Skyler
a mischievous smile. "And when we are done, if you still feel compelled to
have a Klingon warrior beat you half to death in order to feel anything, I will
turn in my medical license and retire."
The dream shifted without warning, as dreams do, to a short time later, as
Moreya and Skyler were standing on the stone verandah of Moreya’s home -- the
holosuite version, anyway -- letting the drenching rain of a Deltan storm wash
over them, cooling overheated flesh but not quenching their inner fires.
Wordless they stood there, locked together, until a sudden gust of eldritch
wind swirled around Moreya, tearing her away from Skyler, sending the Deltan
spinning, screaming, off the verandah and plunging forty meters toward the
raging sea.
She had barely enough time to think -- this is not how it happened -- before
she plunged into the icy sea, and continued falling, through the water as if it
was air, an impossible distance until she landed ... softly, on her feet.
All around her was a city. It was impossibly ancient, and even to Moreya’s
well traveled eyes, alien. So alien that she couldn’t tell where the buildings
ended and their inhabitants began. Welcome to the city of the Igraynul, little
insect. Set me free. Set Nehoteph free --
“Lieutenant? Lieutenant Moreya?”
A blink, a deep, shuddering breath, and Moreya was back in her chair, one of
the newest members of her staff -- Fielding, wasn’t it? -- standing in front of
her.
“What is it, Ensign?” she asked, trying to shake off the disorientation. I was
asleep? Dreaming? But -- the vision of the city would not be put off so
easily ... and the pain from her head had moved, down into her belly. Her
stomach twisted and she struggled to calm sudden nausea.
“... so we need your permission as Chief of Science to take it out of
containment for further examination,” Fielding finished.
Take what out of containment? Moreya thought. Before she could ask, a
desperate need to be left alone came over her. I can’t let anyone see me like
this!
“Yes, Ensign. You have my permission to proceed.” T’Leara will know what
she’s doing. I don’t have to worry about it for now.
“Very good. Thank you, ma’am.” Fielding nodded and left.
As the door closed behind him, Moreya wrapped her arms tightly around herself,
fighting a losing battle to bring the spasm under control.
--
The nightmare continues! http://www.afterhell.com
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