Topic: Star Trek: The Scales of Eternity
Subject: ...
Stardate 2365.04.25; 21:30
USS Peregrine; Deck 5 – The Aerie
As she approached the hatch that opened into Peregrine’s observation lounge, Megan Owen reflected for, perhaps the fifteenth time since she’d stepped off the gangway, how surreal it seemed to walk these corridors and see them looking fresh and new when, only two months ago, they had been scorched and scarred had they even been there at all. Tentatively, she let her hand reach out and her fingertips light on the smooth bulkhead that, only weeks ago, had been nothing more than a jagged, gaping hole in the hull, bandaged by the ethereal blue energy of an emergency forcefield…
How many did we lose, here, she couldn’t help but wonder, swallowing the razor-sharp lump that had formed in her throat, along with those in th’ shuttlebay… an’ aboard th’ Serapis?
…Her fingers recoiled and balled into a fist as if the memories of that day had somehow woven themselves into the bulkhead and, at her touch, burned her fingers. She almost choked on the gasp that accompanied the sensation and she most certainly flinched when the Engineering crewman from Starbase 118 reacted to the sound.
“Are you alright, sir,” the young man asked, his attentions snapping away from the access panel in which he had been working to regard the elfin ensign.
“Ah… Aye,” Megan nodded faintly, clutching the now trembling fingers of her one hand in the other, “I… uh… I was jus’…” She offered a quick shake of her head, then, causing the thick, tightly plaited ponytail to thunk almost audibly against her waifish shoulders… “I was lookin’ fer Commander Zai?”
The crewman regarded her curiously for a split-second, then nodded and inclined his head toward the doors of the Aerie. “Been on board most of the day,” he said, “and in there for the last couple of hours, sir.”
“Thank ye, Crewman,” Megan smiled weakly, “Carry on.”
“Aye, sir,” the young man replied, dutifully returning to his work as Megan took the last few steps toward the doors.
As the doors whooshed away before her, she squared her shoulders and sucked in a steadying breath before she stepped into the dimly lit lounge. Before her eyes found the form of the Trill XO, her ears registered the strains of a song being strummed on a guitar and a soft, melancholy voice hung in the air…
~And I wonder
When I sing along with you
If everything could ever feel this way forever
If anything could be this good again
The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when
She sang
And I wonder
If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again
The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when~
…The sadness of the melody and the scarcely restrained longing in Tochi’s voice caused Megan’s breath to hitch in her chest and tears to well in her eyes. Her steps faltered as, once again, she sought to compose herself and, after a moment, she managed to coax herself further into the Aerie’s gloom. When she spied him, after wading through the murk of the dimmed lights and the despondent strains of the music, she was more than a little surprised to find that he was not in uniform. Instead, he was clad in civilian clothes – a pair of jeans and a plain lack t-shirt beneath an embellished leather jacket – hunched over the guitar he strummed, sitting at the very table at which he and Lt Sh’iaraolnas had shared so many lunches but with a bottle of Saurian brandy and a half full tumbler before him.
“Ar... are ye a’right, Commander,” she asked, almost deigning to interrupt his singing despite the sadness it evoked.
“Tochi,” came the reply.
“Sir?” Her steps faltered, again, and, in order to mask her indecision in that moment, Megan reached behind the bar and snagged another glass between her fingers before continuing toward the table where her XO sat.
“We’re in The Aerie, Meg,” Zai intoned in the space between where lyrics were required in the song he sang, though he continued strumming the melody, “there’s no rank here. You can call me Tochi… Vaela would.”
“Aye,” Megan murmured, rolling the glass nervously between her hands as she took another tentative step closer to where he sat..
~And I wonder~
“Are ye a’right,” she swallowed, drawing up next to him where he sat, “T-Tochi?”
~If everything could feel this good forever….~
“No...”
~If anything could ever feel this good, again….~
“…Not really. Are you?”
“No, sir,” she replied, forcing her feet to continue on their course to his (their) table but stopping short of claiming the empty seat, “No. I’m not… C’n… C’n I sit?”
“Please.” The Trill answered, nodding vaguely to the empty chair without looking up from the guitar that spanned his lap.
~…The only thing I’ll ask of you,
You’ve got to promise not to stop when I say when…~
Tentatively, she sank into the seat which he typically occupied during his lunches with Asovil, and set the glass on the surface of the table before nodding at the bottle before him; “May I?”
“Of course.”
As she poured a healthy sampling of the Saurian Brandy into her glass, Megan became keenly aware of the fact that Tochi had stopped singing and was, in fact, eyeing her intently. Again, she swallowed the lump in her throat, aided by the lubricant afforded her by the brandy. “Are ye cross wi’ me, sir,” she asked, nearly breathless in the wake of the liquor she’d just swallowed.
“Cross?” Tochi spiked a brow, regarding the girl curiously, and folded his arms atop the guitar’s body. “Not at all,” he answered, “Why would you think that?”
“Well,” Megan sighed, her gaze dipping to stare into the amber liquid in her glass, “because ye’ve said nary a word ta me since we’ve been outta quarantine, fer one; an’…” she tipped the glass to her lips, again, and drained it’s contents, wincing at the burn it left in her throat or, possibly, in reaction to her eyes meeting his, “…an’ because it was me tha’ flew Asovil o’er ta th’ Serapis.”
The Trill offered a scarcely perceptible shake of his head and, as he reached for his own glass, a soft, shuddering sigh whispered past his lips. “You were following orders, Megan,” he said before taking a sip of the brandy, “Her orders. How could we possibly be angry with you for that?”
Megan’s lower lip trembled, her eyes watered, and she was forced to swallow that damnable lump, again, lest it crack her voice; “Because she… di… she dinna come back.”
“No, she didn’t,” Tochi whispered in reply. He set aside his glass and the guitar, then, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers and pressing his lips to them as he gazed out the window beyond Megan’s seat. “She didn’t,” he continued, “and that, too, was her choice… she would have said it was her duty. Had she not done what she did, it’s likely that none of us would be here, today.”
Megan nodded faintly, wiped the tears from her eyes, and reached across the table to pour another splash of brandy. “Ye loved her, didn’t ye?”
As his gaze broke from the view beyond the window and settled back on the elfin features of his new ACFO, a sad, longing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I was certainly attracted to her,” he admitted softly, “and I enjoyed her company a great deal. I felt… something… but, given the relatively short time she and I had together, we don’t know that it was love.” He took up his glass, again, and indulged in a longer sip than his last; “I would have liked to have found out.”
Posted on 2021-02-09 at 10:23:40.
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