<FWG> <Meridian> To Do Nothing in the Eyes of Evil (Shawna / Jack)
- From: Jason Ziredac <ziredac@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: fwgalaxy@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Thu, 8 Feb 2007 01:02:36 -0800 (PST)
To Do Nothing in the Eyes of Evil
by Shawna Kenton
&
Jack Leirone
&
Special Guest
1.
To do nothing in the eyes of evil is to beget sin.
Shawna looked down at her hands, now scabbing and reddening around the places
where the debris cut into her fingers when she had shielded her face. It hurt
to make a fist, the tightening of the skin pulling at the edges of her healing
wounds, and her bones, her finger-bones and muscles around them ached with a
would-be arthritic sting. The pinky on her right hand wasn?t going as straight
as the others, but it wasn?t ailing especially, so she let it be. And she
brought these scarred, marred hands to her face as she wept, the tears leaking
through her fingers like the first drops of a bursting dam.
Several days had passed, and still it was as if Heagen was still dying in her
arms at the very moment that slid through. He was a security officer who had
come to protect the science department, and when the Cardassians broke through?
She could still feel the weight of his body on her lap as his sweat and blood
stained both of their clothes. How the emptying of his veins and arteries upon
her cradling hands were so warm with life, cooling quicker than a wax candle
after being blown out. How he stared at her. How he looked at her. How he cried
with acceptance that this life be left behind. And how he called her an angel.
It didn?t have to happen that way; Heagen could have survived, perhaps, if
Shawna had done something. Far different than when the Borg had the Meridian in
a vampire?s hold, and her instincts kicked in as she helped Ame Suisei clear
Engineering of invaders, when the war?s toil enraptured Shawna Kenton she
buckled like a starving weed. A phaser, just one, firing in the direction of
all the other phasers in the room, could have saved Heagen?s life, or Mara?s,
or Belew?s. That was her sin, her fault.
The other sin, the other fault, lay in a very intuitive woman. It was almost
immediately after Heagen died in her arms, or possibly?and this was a horrible
thought?even before. Rough hands on her shoulders, a hypospray (or something)
in her neck, and then the most frightening of memories.
--
?You?ll want to keep quiet.?
Shawna heeded the advice and asked in a whisper, ?What happened? Where??
The voice answering her was intense, succinct, like the lulling of an asp. ?I
said ?keep quiet? to ensure you wouldn?t start screaming; you needn?t hush
yourself.?
?Where are you? How did you even know I was awake??
?I?m very intuitive, so people have said.? The mysterious admonishment had,
after all, been uttered directly after Shawna had opened her eyes, a process
which scratched her corneas and creaked her temples like old wooden doorjambs.
?Your pulse is high. I suggest you take an ease of heart: you are safe and will
be safe hereafter, without having to hide from anyone. Starfleet isn?t holding
anyone else responsible.?
Shawna sat up and found the surface she?d been lying on buoyant and
responsive: a mattress. It seemed to have been forgotten in a corner of an old,
plaster-walled room that was dressed in a dim yellow light peeking through the
tiny spaces in the woven curtain over the window. The question snagged her mind
then: was she even really awake? Or was this another part of the dreams, and in
the stead of the Girl in the Backyard she was visited by the Intuition in the
Seedy Roadside Motel?
?You?re not dreaming,? said the Intuition. ?This is a bad part of town.?
Feeling the tingle in her fingers and the gnaw in her gut that she felt the
first time she stuck her hand into someone?s thoughts, Shawna touched her
temples and winced. ?Are you in my mind?? she asked. ?I can?t feel you there
like I?like I??
?You couldn?t feel the strongest thought of a Betazoid elder and know the
difference from a signal in your brain that your elbow has an itch,? remarked
the voice odiously, tauntingly. ?Your telepathy is an accident. And no, I?m not
in your brain. I don?t go there.?
Shawna decisively disbelieved the Intuition when she hadn?t even begun to
open her mouth and it answered preemptively.
?I took you off the ship because I had an inkling there was danger. Danger
outside the invading Cardassians, danger beyond the war. Maybe, outside every
tangible aspect of Starfleet and the Federation that you could possibly see.?
And the Intuition?s voice deepened. ?Or know about.?
As if Shawna had the same attentiveness that her rescuer had, she could feel
her own pulse going down, and her medium slice of panic was lowering like the
needle on a gas-guzzler. Like her 1990 GMC. Her mind then allowed the
processing of the facts of the mysterious Intuition, almost against her will.
The mind, as she?d never frontally known, just can?t help but try to put pieces
together to try to figure out who an unidentified person is when having direct
contact. She begged it, her mind, to stop, to plead ignorance and let growling
dogs crouch on their haunches.
The puzzle was on the coffee table, though, and she was missing almost all
600 pieces. What she knew now was information her rattling brain had refused to
acknowledge before: her rescuer was female, with a deep voice, deeper than
hers, deeper than any woman she?d met in the past three centuries. And she
seemed to have a black heart as far as she could tell, making crass comments
about things Shawna had only begun to understand. Madame Intuition was smart,
as was bricked the foundation of the conversation, and had managed to extract
someone from a surrounded ship unseen.
?They?ll have questions for you, as you were on the crew?s roster and were
not present and accounted for when you were all recovered. When you answer
these questions, answer with the truth to avoid incrimination. Logical,
wouldn?t you say? Regular Vulcan textbook material. You can even talk about the
crazy woman who claimed she took you, and only you, off the ship and into a bad
part of town where she gave you a word to tell them. Them, in the context,
would mean anyone who would fly like a diseased carrier pigeon to the Admiralty.
?That word is Daelratung. You speak that word and it?s a password to getting
your sympathized tail out of an interrogation room and into the seat of your
next assignment with a pat on your back and shut up, Shawna Kenton!? Shawna
fell off the bed and onto her butt on the carpet (damn, that intuitive monster
had caught another interruption), and she felt the footsteps of the Intuition
heavily pounding their way over to her. Kicking with her legs she scooted her
back into a corner and drew herself up defensively into a ball.
The Intuition rounded the bed, but before Shawna could bring her face out of
the crook of her elbow to see her, the Intuition seized the smoke-yellowed
curtain and ripped it off its runners. Insidious light shone in and blinded
Shawna, as the method used to put her to sleep caused extreme ocular
sensitivity. She tried to focus, only to see pain. Before her was only
movement, crouching before her menacingly.
Even in the brightest and purest of light, this Intuition was still a shadow.
?You will speak that word, without an iota of hesitation. Tell them of how
afraid of me you were, tell them of how I forced you to bring that word to
their ears and you will be named innocent, as there will be no lie and nothing
hidden in your confused little brain for them to pick at like vultures looking
for dessert. Tell them everything you went through, and I swear to you Shawna,
you?ll come out all right.?
The shield of Shawna?s forearms was now allowing her eyes to know the light
companionably, and so she lowered them and squinted. What she saw was the
closest thing she?d ever see to what the Intuition looked like. A pale face,
something that might be pretty if her eyes were fully focused, dark, unruly
hair?and a deep red jacket that flashed in the light as the Intuition twirled
and disappeared into the bleak and bright obscurity to the sound of a slamming
door.
--
Attempting breath was with trepidation, under the eye of Yelsor Teccan, a
sergeant in the Federation?s bureau of investigation. Whether or not it was
still called the FBI, Shawna didn?t know or care to ask. He never sat down in
the other metal chair, across from something that could have been a card table
in another life. Instead Teccan circled her, trying to play ?bad cop? with her,
a method as effective as dunking witches when compared to the modern day.
Mijimoh, the ?good cop,? a man who seemed like he could potentially be more of
a danger to Shawna?s well-being, was nearing his thirtieth minute in his
so-called coffee break.
?Why do you keep watching me like that?? Shawna asked, drawing a deep breath
that pushed out her crossed arms.
?I think you?re leaving something out.? Teccan made one of those cliché leans
onto the table far too close to her for comfort. ?No one just says a word like
that, not after a story like yours. On the Meridian, you were ?hyposprayed? by
an unidentifiable person whom you claim must be the same woman who later fed
you the word , then you wake up in some motel out of town in the custody of
a?an informant, or something, who can be invisible to you when you could poke
her with a stick, who tells you to tell us the word you mentioned.?
?Yes,? Shawna said tiresomely, ?for the?oh, fourteenth time now. I?m not
lying to you.?
?I didn?t say you were,? Teccan remarked, now with a trifle of suspicion.
?You are being dishonest by omission, however.?
?You think.?
Teccan harrumphed and turned his back, putting his interlaced hands behind
his neck as he rotated his head, searching for the popping sound that would
relieve his boundless tension. Shawna was now not so much scared as she was
annoyed, wondering where the rest of the crew was, what she was supposed to be
doing. And the fact that she was being held prisoner without the slightest idea
why wasn?t helping her stress.
?Listen, I told you all I know. The chick said for me to come to you and say
the word and didn?t explain anything else. I don?t know what Daelratung is
supposed to mean.? At the sound of the word, Teccan?s fingers curled and he
tensed up. Suddenly Shawna was cognizant of her budding and erratic telepathic
abilities. He didn?t know what it meant, exactly, but for him it meant
something far more stressful than being late to reuniting with a crew. ?Is it
some swear word in an alien language or something??
?Shut up,? Teccan said in a whisper. He was searching, she could tell, for
another intimidating play to run on her, but he was coming up short.
?You tell me to shut up way too much for someone who wants me to talk.?
?I said to shut up, Kenton.?
The door whispered open again, and Mijimoh walked in and sounded out of
breath. He didn?t have any coffee with him. ?Someone?s on their way.?
?Damn it,? Teccan said, trying to pull the conversation aside. ?Always coming
from higher up.?
?That was a long coffee break,? Shawna said with a smile that made Teccan,
apparently, want to hit her. Mijimoh went to the seat across from Shawna and
pulled the chair out, causing the wailing creak of metal-on-metal. A long stare
went between them, like a tightrope between their eyes. They had nothing on
her, literally and figuratively. There were no manila folders (or, she guessed,
they would be PADDs, sorry, she forgot), no incriminating photographs or calls
for alibis, absolutely nothing Shawna ever saw on episodes of Law & Order.
Not even a one-way mirror.
It was a crummy little room though, built specifically for interrogation,
gray-blue bricks surrounding them to make an airless little cage for people to
sweat in. The door behind her was thicker than most, taking a mere second
longer to whish open and closed like the other magic doors she?d come to. Why
couldn?t doors be like the one at the motel, where the Intuition had brought
her? A brass knob that needed a key, a bolt that entered a wooden gap in the
doorjamb. Why did every single door have to have the convenience of those found
at supermarkets around the globe?
Not much was explained during the wait for this ambiguous someone to arrive.
Mijimoh told her that she wasn?t going to be interrogated any further in this
branch, which was good. In this branch, though.
?I don?t know if interrogations will continue, Ms. Kenton,? Mijimoh
explained, clearing his throat, ?but there will not be any more questions from
this bureau.?
?Will I be getting back to my ship?? Shawna asked, looking at her wristwatch.
?I hope you do. If so, I can?t tell you when.? His shoulder was tapped upon,
and he looked up at Teccan and gave a nod. ?Informants, especially proclaimed
ignorant ones such as yourself, have to be taken with absolute care, especially
with the Act that the Starfleet admiralty is enacting.?
Shawna perked her eyebrow. ?Act? What, like Britain and the Colonies? What
Act??
?There is terrorism everywhere, Shawna,? Mijimoh said gravely, lowering his
voice to match that of a gravelly jazz singer. ?The Candor Act has ensured that
secrecy, the root of evil in the world, will be completely eradicated.?
Astonished, Shawna looked at Mijimoh like he was an idiot. ?Secrecy is the
root of evil in the world? Has civilization moved backwards over the past three
centuries??
?Well, imagine a world without secrets, where every living person is open,
unashamed of their thoughts and beliefs. That is a route to universal peace.?
?It?s a route to big trouble, I think.?
Teccan broke in, ?I don?t give a damn what you think.?
The door opened, interrupting their little philosophically political parley.
In stepped a man with white eyes, standing tall in a white uniform. It was
unlike anything Shawna had seen in this future, where all people wear drab red,
yellow, or blue clothes when in service. This man?s trousers were creased in
the middle, the standard tapered design Shawna thought was long dead. His shirt
was neatly tucked into his waistband, and neat silver buttons trailed up to his
neck, which was unshaven. His hair was short, immaculately trimmed, and a dark
brown that took direct light shone upon it to discern that it was not black.
?Then why do you have her in what you claim is an interrogation room?? he
asked.
?Were you the one Admiral Remington sent?? Mijimoh asked.
?Yes,? said the man in white. ?I have been ordered to take Ms. Kenton to the
Starbase where the Meridian is docked. She?s got her assignment, and you do not
have any more hold over her.? He turned his white eyes to Shawna and smiled,
saying, ?Shall we, Ms. Kenton??
?Gladly,? Shawna spitefully spat as she stood from the creaking chair. When
she turned to face the door, the man in white was holding a shiny new combadge
in his hand, offering it to her.
?You?ll need one of these.?
And instead of a motion and a lead out the door, the man in white took
Shawna?s hand and kissed it between the knuckles graciously.
Aghast, in a good-sort-of way, she obliged. ?Um, okay???
The man in white said, ?Good. I?m Investigator Leirone.? They were out of the
interrogation room when Leirone stopped as if he had just heard something and
turned to correct it. He opened the door and leaned in and said, to Teccan
probably, ?Justice is blind. Mind you,? and came back to her, leading her down
yet another hall to another destiny.
?Who are you with?? Shawna asked.
?I was asked here by the head of Starfleet itself, the very top. You?ll find
I?m full of surprises, Shawna Kenton.?
Somehow that wasn?t comforting.
--
The Leirone guy didn?t make much for conversation, as gracious as he was.
That white coat of his trailed behind him just as graciously as he hand-kiss
had been. For some unexplained reason, she wanted to wear it, wanted to feel
its smoothness all over her skin like a big blanket. Tempting it was, but it
brought about her memories of childhood, curled up by the TV watching Merry
Christmas, Charlie Brown! while the flurries outside smacked the sliding glass
door with delicacy and utter silence. And the hot cocoa her mom made for her
every night during Christmas vacation, every single night of it, on every
single year until Shawna died in 1994. Why all of these yuletide memories were
sparked by the thought of wearing a coat was beyond Shawna to the fullest, and
finally her concentration on the weird subject was broken by Leirone?s sudden
interest to speak.
They were walking toward the rehabilitating Meridian, where crewmembers were
scarcely fluttering about. Great windows looked out upon it, suspended in the
docking bay connected by a long catwalk. And Leirone said, ?This is where we
temporarily part, Ms. Kenton. Reconnect with your Captain, who I understand has
been promoted to Rear Admiral for your information, and get situated again.?
?Temporarily part? What, are you comin along??
Leirone chuckled and nodded modestly, folding his hands in front of him. ?Yes
I am.? He smiled and expressed a sympathy, for her confusion and her recent
trauma. ?Tricky business, but you don?t have to worry too badly about it. When
that which is above you isn?t ready to fall, you need only go about your life
as you would do every day, trusting that nothing will bonk you on the head.?
Shawna facially called him on bullshit. ?You sound like you?re quoting
somebody.?
?My dad said that about when my mom skipped town. I was four years old, had
no business asking about the affairs of thirty-year-old divorcees. But that
saying he taught me doesn?t really sound like my dad either. He must have been
quoting too.?
?You probably can?t tell me why for, uh, secrecy?which is quite ironic
knowing that you?re working for the admiralty?but, uh, what are you basically
tagging along to do??
?Balance.?
Shawna screwed her face up again. ?Balance? That?s it? You?re one enigmatic
punk.?
Leirone laughed in spite of himself, having only fifty percent understanding
of her appraisal of him. ?When you work for someone as high as the person I
work for, your eye sees far. It might not point exactly to where you need to
go, but you see things that need fixing. I know how to fix things. And I know
how to dig up the truth.? He began to walk past the entrance to the Meridian?s
docking bay, heading for other business, but then he turned and said, ?And I?m
just an overall influential member of society.?
Shawna felt a tremor in her heart and a paranormal tear forming in the corner
of her left eye, her mouth falling ajar in mild shock. ?What did you say?? she
called after him.
Leirone furrowed his brow and gave her a puzzled grin. ?What did I say? About
fixing things, or digging up the truth??
?You said, ?I?m an influential member of society.?? She began to walk toward
him.
?Yes,? Leirone said, elongating the word so as to coerce her into feeding him
a bit more information. ?But what???
?What?s your first name??
?Jack.?
Shawna stopped and put her hands at her sides, now looking overburdened with
thought. ?Oh. Well, what?s your middle name??
?I don?t see why that?s important??
?Is it Douglas??
?No, it?s Stark. Why do you ask??
?Uh?nothing, never mind.? Shawna turned her shoulder on him then, running her
flustered hands through her flustered hair, looking as if she wanted to pull
the skin from her scalp. The ground beneath her, where her focus lay, twirled
and swayed like a cruel funhouse on a washing machine?s spin cycle. To her
right was the doorway to next chapter of her life, when the Meridian would sail
again, but her mental turmoil made her not want to move. And to top it all off,
she was hating herself for being so emotional, for hundreds of years ago the
biggest lemon could be hurled at her and there would be lemonade in mere
seconds. With ice. Now her mind was overloaded with stress. Perhaps she could
have dealt with deaths of Heagen and the others, perhaps she could have dealt
with the oddly short abduction by Madame Intuition, perhaps she could have even
dealt with the strangely vivid dreams.
Always the scapegoat was her overall situation. Her freezing and awakening.
?Shawna, what?s wrong?? Leirone stood directly behind her, and his sudden
presence there gave her heart and lungs a little kickstart.
?Nothing, Mr. Investigator. I?m fine.?
?I don?t care which, but use one of my names, please, no need for titles.?
His hand went to her shoulder and ever-so-gently turned her around. ?Even if I
didn?t have these ocular implants of mine I would still be able to see that you
are not fine.?
Aversion. ?How did you lose your eyesight??
?An accident. What?s wrong, Shawna??
Anger. ?It?s none of your business.?
?It might be. You became distressed because of a conversation that we had.
You and I.?
Omission. ?I just?I just sorta flashbacked to when the Cardassians attacked.
Someone died in my arms and I?I?m just having some trouble coping with that.?
Untruth. ?The reason I asked your name and middle name was because I once knew
some guy who kinda looked like you, and he used to say how influential he was,
and I thought you might be him; I didn?t know him very well. And I guess the
reason I freaked out was just the frustration of thinking I knew somebody and
them not having any idea of what I was talking about??
?Hey,? Leirone intervened consolably. ?I know what you?re saying. You?ve been
through a lot; I?ve read your file, seen where you?ve come from. When you?ve
come from. I?m no ship?s counselor??
?to which Shawna interrupted with, ?Good.?
??but I?m a good ear. You let me know if you want to talk. If not with me,
then at me. Have a bad day on the ship, just come to my quarters and bitch, and
if you want advice then you got it?granted it might not be very good?and if you
don?t want advice, which I think is more probable, then I?ll say nothing.
Right?? She was crying and trying not to show it, pulling her face away from
his. Hooking his finger and putting it under her chin, he pulled it right back.
?Right?? he asked again.
It would take Shawna a while before she could read Jack Leirone?s lifeless
eyes, but now she could only guess that he was sincere. So she nodded and
carelessly wiped saline and snot on her uniform sleeve. ?Yeah, sure.?
?And I?m also intrigued with old things. Maybe you?ll tell me about the old
world you come from sometime.? Afterthought. ?If it doesn?t trouble you too
much.?
She repeated herself and kindly removed herself from Leirone?s immediate
proximity. ?I?m off, Mr. Leirone.?
?You know, I don?t think I like that one either.?
Unsure and stuttering, Shawna offered, ?Jack, then??
?That suits me better.? Jack straightened his coat and noticed that Shawna?s
gaze intently followed his hands over the thick but delicate material. ?You
like the coat, huh??
?Yeah, it?s cool.?
?Cool? Late nineteen-hundreds term??
?Like, latter half of the nineteen-hundreds. Do you know who Miles Davis is??
?Of course. I studied a lot of music in school. I was the artsy one in the
family. But I?ve only heard the name and I know he was a trumpet player.?
?Well he named an album Birth of Cool. A lot of people thought he was
pretentious; I think he was right.?
Jack chuckled quietly and took Shawna?s hand again in that oddly alien manner
of a gentleman that she?d only seen in old movies. Old movies to her, even. His
lips touched her knuckles deftly and she felt more important than Kyle had ever
made her feel, though she didn?t think she was falling in love with Jack
Leirone; there was that wedding ring on his finger after all.
?I need to get going, but I think we?ll have a lot of good talks. See you in
a while.?
One more question from Shawna, and then she?d let him go. ?So you think
you?re going to just waltz onto the Meridian and expect Captain?uh, Rear
Admiral Pierce to just bend over and metaphorically take it in the out door?
Because the guy?s a tough cookie.?
?I?m going to attempt diplomacy, but he really doesn?t have a choice. I don?t
want too many people knowing this, mainly because I don?t like it myself, but
I?m actually higher up on the food chain than he is. Keep that quiet; last
thing I would want is for Pierce to feel belittled. Want him to see me as a
government-appointed passenger and potential extra hand, not someone who can
emasculate him.?
Jack Leirone walked away from her with a bowing head.
Shawna had the oddest feeling about him, almost as if he wasn?t human, or
wasn?t on this astral plane, natively. She dismissed him from her thoughts,
though, as now the healing ship in the docking bay to her left was waiting for
her return. The door slid open and exposed the long walkway to her, almost as
precarious-looking (despite the guardrails) as that ?leap-of-faith? thing in
that Indiana Jones movie. Taking the first step was a little easier than it had
been for the guy with the whip and hat.
2.
Holodeck 1 stood only fifteen feet away, and it had been the first thing
Shawna had visited after stepping back aboard the Meridian. Somewhere the
Captain was enduring interview after interview, trying laboriously to fill the
dead space on the ship. Her personal belongings had all been destroyed in the
Cardassian attack: nothing that couldn?t be replaced in this forgiving world;
something she feared losing most was that ability to go back.
It had been too long since she had traveled to the world Marius Silteaux had
built for her, and for a while she felt like she was rid of it, as if it had
been an addiction. Addiction. She hadn?t had an unhealthy addiction all her
life, if you could exempt Melrose Place from the ?unhealthy? category. Now she
felt herself regressing, wanting to call those magic numbers and speak that
magic name to go back, like Marty McFly, to a better and simpler world.
Shawna took a step toward the doors and then couldn?t stop: forward she went
until she was nose-to-nose with her entryway. That itch, that ache, that
warm-cool sensation like when you?re sick and you?ve just thrown up and you
feel a little bit better?it was all rushing over her like a living sleeping
bag. All the places she would be able to go to, all the people she would be
able to see and touch, they were all potentially on the other side of that
door. She began to take deep, sharp breaths, each one originally meant to carry
the command out of her lungs for the computer to conjure 1994, but each one
fell short. Honestly she tried and tried to make the words come out, but
another half of her was pulling the knotted rope over the mud puddle, and this
addicted part of her was almost face down in brown.
Then the doors opened by themselves, and Yerani Fyrsta stepped out with wet
hair and a towel around her neck. She was lovely and Bajoran, and one of the
few people Shawna could say she knew who survived. ?Hello, Lieutenant Kenton,?
she said smiling, tilting her head to dry some of her long, red hair.
?Just Shawna, if you don?t mind, Yerani. We?re not on duty yet.?
?Okay, Shawna.? Yerani stepped out into the hall and motioned inside. ?Were
you wanting to use the Holodeck??
Longingly Shawna stared deeply into the black-and-yellow grid, knowing that
with an innocent yes those walls would change. She thought she felt her body
begin to lean into the room, but that side of her was caught off guard and
tugged into the pile of mud, the knotted rope slipping from her fingers.
?No,? Shawna said, shaking her head. ?I was mainly wandering, spacing out,
you know.?
??Spacing out,?? Yerani quoted, ?That one of your old terms??
?Yeah. Means I was just absent. Mentally, you know. I can always use it
later.?
?Okay. I was just about to head out to sci-one to start on receiving the
salicin order we picked up from the Starbase this morning. If you need me,
sir?right, you don?t like the sir-for-girls thing?oh, and we?re not on duty?uh,
if you need me I?ll be there for another half-hour and then down in the cargo??
Shawna eagerly stepped forward, as if Holodeck 1 was a stalker watching her
and Yerani was her key to getting to a safe place inconspicuously. ?I?ll help
you!? she said, cheerily, having to look up at the Bajoran, who was unusually
tall for her race and gender. ?I need something to do.?
Needless to say, Yerani was a trifle shocked at a superior officer?s
eagerness to help instead of supervise or something. ?Well, sure. You don?t
really need my permission or anything? That would be, well, out of place.?
?I don?t want to?um, what?s the word? Starts with an I.?
?Interfere??
?No?um?in?im?impede. I don?t want to impede. All ranks aside, you know, I
don?t like to let rank excuse someone?s personal preference?? Shawna didn?t
find that her hand was rifling through and ruining her hair, like her want to
get away and occupy her mind was a thought-shattering transit. Instead, Yerani
had to make the observation.
?Shawna, you look stressed.?
?Stressed?? she answered too quickly. ?Not terribly, I think, I just?I don?t
want to think about what happened to the rest of the crew.?
Yerani nodded. ?Of course, Shawna. Shall we??
?Yeah, yeah, let?s.?
---------------------------------
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