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Post by Nola on May 2, 2020 9:29:43 GMT
Cog Life Note: This log takes place after the mission on 12004.23
Sara strode into her Ready Room and beelined for the booze, unceremoniously piling every bottle of clear, amber, or neon alcohol on her desk.
"Computer," she called, the familiar chirp sounding shortly after. "Beam all bottles on my desk to my bedroom."
A contradictory mixture of relief and regret tinged her thoughts as the bottles vanished, removing the temptation and salvation of on-duty drinking. After a moment of celebratory mourning, Sara sat in her chair and put the menagerie of spirits out of her mind - Thalev would know what to do with them. They could joke about it later when she got off shift, assuming she didn't just go to bed and cry immediately.
"Get your shit together, Sara," she murmured, running her hands over her face. After a brief mindfulness exercise that met with middling success, Sara was ready to push herself back to her feet and head back out onto the bridge. That's when she noticed her message alert.
Sara glowered, expecting some new orders from Starfleet or maybe some snide message from Captain whatshisface of the Creole or spa-
'Regarding Niamh Danann's Health'
The panic was instant, as was the gaping maw that formed in her stomach. Her heart and lungs competed for bandwidth as Sara's world constricted to those four words, and it was with a certain desperation that she tore her eyes away from the screen. Through the shriveling terror came a single thought:
'I can't afford this right now.'
The fuck was that supposed to mean!? There was no chance in hell she'd receive such a message if it weren't something dire, and here she was worried about what she could afford? More damning was the fact that it was true. She had a number of refugees on board, as well as survivors from the Bosque. Her crew were about to look for more refugees that may or may not have been dropped into a space cowboy saloon, and there was at least one enemy ship just on the other side of the border that they were not a match for.
Sara Sumner, Captain of the USS Chiron, could not afford whatever was in this message.
Of course, it was too late. If she got up and stepped onto the bridge right now, this would be all she could think about. It would gnaw at her as she sat in her chair and tried to muster some sort of composure in the face of an overwhelming urge to scream. No, it was better to read it now.
'Read it, freak out for five minutes, and then go out there and do your job,' she told herself, leveraging this strange bit of self-control she'd managed to develop somewhere along the way.
'Like a good little cog,' jabbed that inner-most voice, a particularly devastating barb in this moment of personal catastrophe. And she'd just gotten rid of the booze...
Sara forced herself to focus on the message. Head trauma. Regained consciousness. Tony. Personality changes. Memory loss. Don't come.
Each word that came out of Dr. Kitling's mouth was another needle in her heart, another bleeding wound in her thoughts releasing catastrophizing torrents of panic as this piece of her soul that had already been dwindling fell into this Schrodinger-esque fugue.
This was the line. This was the path Captain Sumner refused to tread in this moment. There would be time later to deal with her selfish thoughts of being forgotten, of not mattering to someone she cared about so deeply. There would be time to scream and self-flagellate and force poor Thalev to hold her as she cried about a different lover, and she could take all that time to rue the day she decided to be her greedy, reckless, disgusting self instead of letting herself be beaten into shape.
For now, she had a job to do. That job came first. That was the most important thing. More than any of that diatribe, that job was what defined her. It was what gave her purpose.
Sara forced herself to her feet, hands planted firmly on her desk until she was sure her legs would function. She stepped towards the door, doing her best to leave her heart behind as she stepped out onto the bridge to do her job.
Like a good little cog.
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Post by Nola on May 14, 2020 6:21:25 GMT
'See What You Can Find Out' Note: This is set during the next sizable lapse from SD 12005.14
Somehow Sara had managed to become lost on her own ship, which wasn't great for her currently middling self-esteem. Granted, she was explicitly going someplace she didn't usually go in the course of her duties, but still; she'd never gotten lost on the Bremen, anyway. Then again, she hadn't done what she was about to do on the Bremen, and it quickly became clear how irrational her continuing meltdown was.
It would all be fine. Sara was about to have a vacation, after all.
After a bit more wandering around, Sara found the corridor she'd been looking for, and similarly the intercom unit as explained on the sheets of paper folded in her hand. She looked down each direction, making sure she was alone. The hour was late, and even during peak hours there wasn't much foot traffic in this part of the ship. Once reasonably assured of alone-ness, Sara unfolded the papers and read them for fifth time in the last hour.
Simplified isolinear diagrams were surrounded by small lines of code - specific integers to change to achieve the desired effect of a less-traceable comm signal. It took some effort to properly read his handwriting, but she was reasonably assured that she could pull this off. Then she pried off the access panel with a tool from the engineering kit she'd nicked, and became reasonably assured she could not.
Didn't matter. Had to be done.
It took the better part of an hour with Sara's constant double-checking, but she eventually reached a point where she was at least willing to try, tapping at the screen to initiate the comm. Then she waited. He'd said it could take a good deal of time, something about piggy-backs and reroutes. It was a little under 10 minutes, which felt approximate to forever.
The screen let Sara know the connection had been established. Now it was a question of whether he'd pick up. He might not even be home, which would mean she did all this for nothing - she'd have the reset the isobank and undo her protocol changes and then try again later if that were the case.
Fortunately for narrative purposes, the screen switched to a fuzzy image of a disheveled bedroom.
"Who may I ask is calling?" asked someone off-screen.
"Henry, it's me," Sara replied softly. The screen blurred further as the small, portable comm unit was turned, Henry's scruffy, smiling visage coming into view.
"Hey you! How've you been, young'un?" he asked, perhaps more laid back than she'd even seen him.
"It's complicated and we don't have time," replied Sara. That wounded her to say more than she'd expected. Henry sighed, his smile diminishing, but not disappearing.
"What'd'ya need, hun?" asked Henry. Sara hesitated a moment, trying to think through the barrage emotions flooding her chest from, well, everything. Just... all of the things in her life, save perhaps one, being a massive dumpster fire.
"Sara," said Henry, using the soft comforting tone he'd sometimes bust out when they were younger and she was the one on the verge of collapse for a change.
Did people ever stop being kids, really? There wasn't time for that one, either.
"I need a favor," said Sara, bringing a hand up to wipe the scant tears from her eyes.
"Name it," said Henry.
"I need a shuttle. A civilian shuttle, with an optional transponder."
Henry's brow arched. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair as he considered the request.
"Please," added Sara.
"I can do that," he answered. "I won't require answers, but how much danger are you looking to be in, here?"
"Honestly?"
Henry blinked, glancing aside for a moment.
"... Yeah."
Sara took a deep breath, unintentionally mimicking his hand-hair-thing.
"Most likely scenario is I get captured by the Maquis and become a bargaining chip," she offered.
Henry ran his hand over his mouth before giving a somewhat astonished chuckle.
"I... do you need weapons, too? Is anyone going with you?"
"No. To both."
"What exactly are you trying to do?"
Sara folded her arms, again looking to make sure she was alone.
"Someone I care about a great deal was injured," she explained. "She's in the Maquis. She had her doctor let me know, and I was told very clearly that a Starfleet presence wouldn't be tolerated."
"So you're gonna go as not-Starfleet and hope that gives them pause."
Sara nodded meekly.
"I know it's stupid," she admitted.
"Eh, lots of shit's stupid," replied Henry. "Love is particularly stupid, but... sometimes stupid things are the best things. Besides, it's not like I can lecture you here. When do you need the shuttle? And where?"
Sara gave Henry one of those sad smiles you give when someone shows they understand your whole crazy.
"Sometime in the next few weeks," she answered. "Where is TBD."
Henry nodded, gazing at his not-sane sibling.
"I'll get on it," he said. "Let me know when you have a pick-up location."
Sara nodded, wiping her eyes again.
"Hey, give me a proper call in the morning, okay?" said Henry. "SFI knows where I live already. We can talk about all this other stuff that's clearly making you eat your head."
Sara gave a soft laugh, a few more tears leaking out as the elephant was addressed.
"Okay," she replied with a nod.
"Love you, Sara."
"Love you back."
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Post by Einar on May 14, 2020 7:15:17 GMT
that was beautiful, tense and sad. I miss Henry and I miss those two together
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Post by Nola on Jun 21, 2020 21:24:26 GMT
Vacation, Part One With Aoibhe as Niamh Danann
Sara’s stomach tied itself in knots as she was led down a corridor to some unknown fate - largely due to the black bag over her head. Her steps were heavy with uncertainty, physical and otherwise, and her thoughts were muted by the sound of her own breaths. It was unreasonable to think she was being led to her doom, but the human psyche was anything but reasonable.
A door slid open and she was led through, the hand tightly gripping her shoulder directing her to sit on a plush chair or sofa. The defrocked Captain’s chest heaved as she waited for any sign of what was to come.
Sara heard someone enter and approach. She tensed as she sensed them towering over her then kneeling down. The bag was gently removed from her head. In the searing brightness of the room Sara flinched, momentarily blinded.
“What did you do to her?” a familiar voice asked. Sara felt her bruised cheek softly stroked, a thumb caressing her split lip tenderly, which drew a sharp breath.
“She resisted, ma'am.” “Course she did. You wanted to put a bag over her fucking head,” Danann countered. “Get out. Give us a minute.” She returned her attention to Sumner as Leeson slinked obediently away.
Sara’s eyes focused after a moment of blinking, familiar red locks filling her field of view. Her chest did that thing where it feels like your heart just sorta plummets. For one thing, Nia looked fine. She was up and ambulatory, and not in a biobed like she’d been preparing herself to see. The touch had been something else. The child in her head wanted to read the world in that touch, to write her fantasies as fact. The adult begrudgingly held her back.
Eventually, Sara remembered to breathe, a small smile pulling at her lips as she looked at Nia.
Danann returned the smile, albeit a little crookedly. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“If I’d taken a moment to think about it on the way, I probably wouldn’t’ve believed it either,” replied Sara. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine... fine,” the red head replied, avoiding Sara's gaze for a telling moment. Her eyes shone as she took in the vision before her. Niamh laughed and launched herself at Sara, wrapping her into an enthusiastic embrace and squeezing her tightly. "You're a welcome sight," she admitted.
A relieved chuckle escaped Sara’s lips as Nia pounced. She’d expected a certain coldness perhaps, or at least more discomfort than an averted gaze. To have Nia’s arms around her within the first minute of seeing her?
Sara buried her face in those voluminous curls as she returned the embrace, breathing deep of Nia’s scent.
It felt intensely good to see Sara again and as a wave of gratitude and relief washed over Danann she bowed to the pressures of instinct and nuzzled into Sara's neck, losing herself for a glorious second in the possibilities she represented. Perhaps they could take up where they'd left off. “I'm so happy you're here,” she admitted softly, grazing her lips against Sara's soft skin.
A small jolt traveled along Sara’s spine, the yearning coming to the fore like it hadn’t left - which, as she thought about it, was indeed the case. Still, as much as she wanted to follow Nia’s lead, she couldn’t help thinking of Dr. Kitling’s words. Personality changes. Impulse control. Memory loss.
“When I heard about the injury, I couldn’t help thinking what I would want in your place,” said Sara. While she didn’t exactly stop Nia’s affections, she contented herself with simply holding her close.
“I would’ve wanted someone who cared about me to come see me,” she added, as one of her hands gently caressed Nia’s back. “... I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”
“Of course I do,” Nia responded, straightening and holding Sara's face in her slender hands. “You're Sara fucking Sumner,” she laughed, “...of course I'd wanna see you.” Nia finally paused to examine Sara's face. As her attention drifted inevitably to Sara's lips Sara caught a glint in her companion's right eye she hadn't seen before. It was brief and puzzling.
Sara’s brow furrowed, and some distant voice in her mind tried to tell her something important, something about Dr. Kitling’s methods. It wasn’t quite strong enough to cut through Nia’s admission, however. The mohawked Captain gently pressed her forehead to Nia’s, and her hands moved to rest atop those on her cheeks.
“I missed you,” she murmured against her better judgment.
“Me too.” It was all the encouragement Nia needed. “Everything's gonna be better now,” she breathed as she pulled Sara closer and kissed her.
Sara’s nostrils flared as she huffed against the kiss, returning it eagerly for a moment. Something about that phrase pulled her adult self screaming into focus, however.
“Nia,” she interjected, breaking the kiss. “What do you mean by that?”
“Forget about it,” Danann dismissed the question with impatience. “We'll sort the details out later. Right now, all that matters is you.” She leaned in to renew her affections but noticed a momentary reluctance greet her. She tensed her jaw and chose to ignore the slight. “You're right” she conceded after a deep breath. “We should get you settled first. You must be starving.”
Sara managed a small smile despite the red flags, one of her hands stroking through Nia’s red tresses.
“Food sounds good,” replied Sara. “In your quarters, maybe, so we can talk.”
They made their way across the keep, took several turbolifts and passed so many identical doorways that Sara began to suspect they were going in circles. Suspicious eyes followed Sara at every turn.
Eventually they passed through security at a heavily fortified entrance that opened at Danann's signal. Within lay an open plan room with comfortable furnishings lit softly, a replicator gracing one bulkhead and a mirror-backed drinks cabinet leaning against another. There was a worrying array of weaponry on display.
"There's a dermal regenerator in the drawer under the replicator," the red head indicated as she shrugged off her heavy targ leather jacket with a broad smile, threw it at one of the sofas and made a beeline for the cabinet. "Drink?" Niamh suggested.
“Whisky sour, please,” replied Sara, her shoulders relaxing once they were away from all the eyes. She moved over towards the replicator and picked out the dermal regenerator, repairing the damage done by the welcome party. Once the dull ache went away, Sara turned her eyes to the room, taking in the weaponry and relative luxury of the space.
“Nice place,” she murmured.
"This whole complex used to be a Syndicate stronghold," Nia said as she approached glass in hand. "Don't ask how we got it." She held out the tumbler of whiskey and sipped from her own. Sara took the tumbler with a small smirk before imbibing.
“I think Henry wrote a story about this kind of thing, once,” she recalled, leaning against a table. “Had lesbians in it and everything. I think it was supposed to be about space pirates, but it was mostly about lesbians.”
"Was it any good?"
“He was like 17 when he wrote it, so not really,” replied Sara, chuckling. She gave her head a small shake, not entirely sure where she’d been going with that anecdote. It was the nerves, probably; the need to talk about a thing you really didn’t want to talk about.
“So Dr. Kitling got you all fixed up, then. I didn’t really expect you to be up and about already.”
"You're lucky I was." Niamh finished her drink and moved closer. "You'd be a smear on the outer hull if I'd been unconscious." She rested a light hand on Sara's hip. "But I can pretend to be worse if it means you'll nurse me back to health?"
Again, that glint appeared in Nia's right eye as she smiled sheepishly. She leaned in and tipped her nose off Sara's, admitting, "that sounded better in my head."
Sara set her drink aside for a moment before moving her hands to frame Nia’s face. Her thumbs caressed Danann’s cheeks, the left subtly widening the other Captain’s eye as she took a closer look at that glint.
“Your doctor’s work?” she asked, keeping her hands where they were. Her eyes cheated down, briefly, to Niamh’s lips, catching sight of a trill of tension flashing through them.
"Lots of people have implants." Niamh sounded defensive. Sara gave what she hoped was a disarming smile.
“They do,” she replied, her thumbs repeating their gentle caress of Nia’s cheeks. “Do you know about Dr. Kitling? Her research?”
"You mean the research that saved my life? Sure." Danann moved Sara's hands from her face and held them as she met her gaze. Now that Sara had a clear view she could see tiny mechanical parts attached in a sunburst pattern on the surface of Niamh’s iris."I'd be long gone if she hadn't stepped in, Sara."
“We can’t know-” began Sara, before her expression broke. Her jaw clenched and her gaze averted as she pulled her hands free, taking a few steps away. The anger was apparent, though the source - at least to Sara - wasn’t. Nia was alive. She appeared healthy, and the first word out of her mouth hadn’t been a condemnation of Sara’s presence; what more could she reasonably have expected? What, precisely, was she hoping to gain by scolding Nia for something that she probably had no say in? What would it accomplish to confront Dr. Kitling about her falling out with Starfleet Medical?
Had she, Sara Sumner, Earthling Party Girl, truly expected to come into Maquis space, bark orders, and get anyone to take her concerns seriously? Had she expected that to make up for the worry?
And there it was, stabbing Sara in the gut. She’d needed to see Nia in a biobed. She’d been counting on finding Nia struggling in order to justify her urge to pull this reckless stunt, and to transmute her panic into fixing other people’s problems. More than anything, she’d been hoping to swoop in, save Nia personally, and resolve her lifelong abandonment issues in the process.
Sara’s head drooped forward as her thumbs tucked into the belt holding up her dark cargo pants, her back still turned to Niamh.
“I dunno what to tell you... I'm grateful Kitling treated me,” Danann admitted, misreading Sara completely. “If I'd been left under Federation care, at best I'd still be a lurching, half-blind mess barely able to speak. But she didn't just cure me. Her treatments have done more than that… I'm stronger, I heal faster, I don't need as much sleep.” She approached Sumner from behind and gingerly snaked her hands around her waist, raised herself onto her tip toes and rested a chaste kiss on her exposed neck, close to her hairline. “Still shorter than you, though,” she smiled, pulling her companion close against her body. “There are some things nanoprobes can't fix.”
Sara’s hands hesitated before one moved to rest on Nia’s, and the other drifted up and back to tangle into those fiery curls. The Earthling turned slightly in the Station Brat’s embrace, rubbing her cheek against Nia’s before pressing her lips to their counterparts as her jaw quivered.
“I’m just glad you’re still here,” she whispered earnestly.
"Me too."
Sara turned more fully, her arms slipping around Nia’s neck as guilt and shame clashed with relief and, to a lesser extent, joy. Nia was alright. Nia was going to live, and didn’t hate Sara. What more could she really ask for, here? How could this moment - right here, right now - be any better?
The not-as-rogue Captain pressed another kiss to Nia’s lips, and then another, her hands threading through the Pirate Queen’s tresses.
“How about another drink?” she murmured.
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Post by Einar on Jun 22, 2020 6:35:38 GMT
somehow, I am terrified of this Nia now.
great log!
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Post by aoibheni on Jun 22, 2020 10:05:04 GMT
somehow, I am terrified of this Nia now. great log! sensible reaction.
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Post by Nola on Sept 2, 2020 20:31:59 GMT
Vacation, Part Two With Aoibhe as Niamh Danann
Sara awoke and, as her senses slowly gathered themselves and she became aware of her limbs, she stretched luxuriously, her form arching under a thin sheet. Niamh’s bed was impossibly spacious and comfortable, the white sheets soft on her bare, tattooed skin. She smiled and rolled, reaching out for the vibrant redhead she'd spent the night with to resume their activities, but found nothing.
“Hey,” a soft voice called, drawing her attention from across the room. Nia. Sara opened her eyes and located her loosely clothed lover seated at a console. The redhead smiled an apology.
“Y’say ‘do not disturb’, but there’s always something that needs doing,” she explained. She tapped a few buttons, deactivating the screen, rose and returned to the bed.
Sara gave a soft groan as she pulled herself to the edge of the bed and rose to greet Nia, slipping her arms around the Maquis captain's neck, now free of the sheet. The previous night had been Sara's first good night of sleep in ages - what little Nia had let her sleep - and suffice to say she felt appreciative as she pressed her lips to Nia's, not inclined to complain.
"Morning," she greeted, as she ran a hand through those cascading red tresses.
“Morning, yourself,” Nia smiled brightly, enjoying the contact.
Danann held Sara close, dipping to kiss her bare neck and reveling in the act. “I've made certain...” she informed Sara's closest tattoo, “we've the whole day to ourselves. I've informed my crew that interrupting us is the quickest route out an airlock.” She smiled up at Sumner. “So.. we can,” she kissed the tattoos covering Sara's smooth shoulder, “take a tour, explore the base,” she kissed Sara's collarbone, “or just stay here... explore something else...” Gently, she urged Sara towards the bed.
---
After breakfast and clothes, Nia led Sara on a tour of the base, with Sara mostly managing to stay an arm’s length from Nia. She was wise enough to know she’d been recognized, and that Nia being overly chummy with a Starfleet captain in front of her crew could lead to friction. Beyond the various arguments playing out just beneath her consciousness, Sara wasn’t here to make trouble for Nia.
She enjoyed hearing about what Nia did with her day, and she’d’ve been lying to say it didn’t sound at least a little fun. There were no orders from command, no implacable dictates that had to be worked around. Being a Maquis captain meant you had some say in your task, some hand in the wider organization, such as it was.
While Sara couldn’t agree with some of the methods the Maquis utilized, she could see the appeal.
“And that's Operations,” Danann said with clear pride as she turned in front of a large viewscreen. The starscape displayed on the screen was static, a collection of local constellations easily picked out by anyone who knew the area well. Sara and Niamh were both stood in the centre of a large, oval room kitted out on all sides by flashing consoles and busy crew on multiple levels. Stephen Leeson, Danann's right hand man - a man once imprisoned in Sara’s brig - was watching nearby, his bare arms folded, his attention squarely on Sumner. Sara noted he’d grown in confidence. His broad shoulders and well defined arms were a surprising change from the skinny kid she’d encountered cowering in the corner of a Chiron cell a year before.
He was as wary as ever of her, though. She couldn’t blame him.
“We probably have time for the Hangar bay before we eat,” Danann said. “See if there's anything in there that takes your fancy.” She beckoned Sara to follow with a nod and an enthusiastic glint in her eye and Leeson advanced; “Niamh-” he interrupted.
Danann tilted her head as he stepped to her side, his back to Sara.
“I'm sure,” Leeson said, “Captain Sumner has little interest in our banged-up old shuttles, Cap.” He held her gaze.
Danann's shoulders tensed.
Sara became acutely aware of the silence that had suddenly descended upon the previously busy Operations centre.
“She's a pilot, Stephen,” Danann informed him flatly. “I'm sure our... shuttles... will be of great interest.”
Leeson held his ground. “No doubt in my mind that's so, Niamh. But I'd consider it a favour if you'd let me get everything squared away first. We're half way through a refit... the hangars aren't fit for guests right now.”
Danann considered, then nodded. “Tomorrow then.”
Leeson mirrored her nod. “Yes, Cap.”
Operations personnel seemed to take a breath as one and the noise level returned to normal.
“While you're here, ma'am...” the voice came from a young Bajoran man standing at a security console. His station was on a platform surrounded by a waist high railing. Danann's attention shifted upwards to him immediately. He took that as a sign to continue. “We've detected a croniton wave flux that we think might be evidence of an incursion along our border with the -” He paused as he realised Danann was swiftly advancing up a slope in his direction. “The incursion is along our border right here…” He turned to his console and opened a stellar map to show her exactly where the problem was.
Seconds later Danann was at his side and had grabbed him and spun him to face her, taken hold of his collar and shoved him backwards. He yelped as he teetered over the railing, scrabbling for a hand hold and finding nothing but his Captain’s steady, extended arm.
“What did I say?” she snarled.
“Ma'am?!”
“What. Did I. Say?” She shook him.
He paled instantly. “Ma'am, I'm- I-” he floundered and fell silent.
“The last order I gave everyone? What was it?”
“I didn't... I didn't mean to…”
“Answer the question!”
“All command decisions should be routed through Stephen Leeson until tomorrow, ma’am… I'm sorry. I thought-.”
Down below Leeson stood silently and watched Sara, his lips tight and his eyes unreadable. His complete lack of reaction coupled with his laser focus on her seemed to convey to her a message; this is who Niamh was now. This outburst wasn’t a one-off.
Sara’s instinct was to approach the scene, but Leeson’s death-glare told her that’d be a bad idea.
“Nia,” she called instead, trying to get the Pirate Queen’s attention.
Up above, Danann raged. “YOU thought. You thought you could ignore a direct order? You thought you could disobey me in front of my guest?! Were you trying to impress her? Or embarrass me? Which was it?”
“No. No ma'am! No. no. I'm sorry. I didn't think-”
She pushed him further over the edge.
“I died for the Maquis, you little shit. I died. And all I asked in return was for 24 hours’ peace, and you couldn't even give me that!”
“Niamh!” shouted Sara, staring up at the enraged Maquis Captain. “I think he gets the point. Let’s move on, yeah?”
Danann’s fist clenched tighter as her eyes lost focus. She remained dead still for several agonising seconds. The Bajoran quivered in terrified silence at the end of her strong arm. Finally, Niamh seemed to come to her senses and she retreated a step, pulling her hapless victim back onto solid ground. He clung to the railing for safety, thoroughly shaken by his Captain’s mercurial fury.
She let him go, wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
“Get back to work”, she snarled.
She seemed suddenly to realise she had an audience. “All of you get back to work!” she barked at the assembled Maquis before marching down the slope past Leeson, past Sara, through the command area, and over to a recessed turbolift. She rested one hand on the ‘lift’s door frame, bowed her head to obscure her face and took a deep breath. “You coming?” The door hissed open at her command and she waited for Sumner to join her.
Sara looked to the young man Nia had just threatened, and then to Leeson, her own gaze hardening into a knowing stare. She turned and moved to join Nia at the turbolift, taking her time before looking at her directly. Thinking it best to be out of sight, she waited until they were on the turbolift before tentatively placing a hand on Nia’s shoulder.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
"Don't you ever," Danann responded with barely controlled anger, "correct me like that in front of my crew again."
Sara recoiled, drawing her hand away like she’d touched a hot manifold. Shortly after, she folded her arms defensively, stepping back to lean against the opposite side of the lift. Yes, she was terrified to see such anger directed towards her from someone she loved, but it was close enough to the brand of familial hostility she’d had enough of in her life that it filled her with her own spark of anger.
“If you can avoid throttling any in front of me before I’m out of your hair in a few days, then it shouldn’t be a problem,” replied Sara, not quite able to keep the challenge out of her gaze.
“Oh, what? You get one taste of what it’s like to command the Maquis and you turn tail?” Danann tilted her head in disgust, her heart beating loudly in her ears. “This isn’t a well-trained, well-disciplined crew, Sara. They don’t ‘jump to’ because they’re trained to follow orders. They obey because they know who’s in charge.” Danann thumped the turbolift’s controller with a tight fist and the ‘lift began to move.
"Oh sure, you gotta set examples, right?" countered Sara, as she shrugged her shoulders. "Gotta threaten bodily harm every so often. How else could people possibly cooperate towards a shared goal? Of course, you'd figure at some point you wouldn't have to set examples any more, but who cares about what's actually effective when making yourself feel like a badass is on the table, huh?"
Sara trembled lightly with smouldering fury, the Starfleet Captain firmly caught between fight and flight as this unexpected-but-familiar dynamic progressed. Yes, she was aware she wasn't exactly helping things, but it was a reflex - one of the many lingering maladaptations born from a childhood spent in a fractious household. She was scared, so she leaned on the thing she'd always leaned on: defiance.
“Enough!” Niamh raged. “Enough!”
Her fists remained clenched, her shoulders set hard and her voice shook with emotion. “Don't you... dare judge me,” she warned as she advanced a step, her bright green eyes hardening as she held Sumner's gaze. The women were close enough now for Sara to once again see the tiny metallic implants controlling Niamh's right iris and the cold steel they leant to her stare.
Tears rimmed Sara’s angry, terrified eyes as her jaw clenched and her shoulders bunched. It was too much. She was too tired and too scared to keep her nerve. She was the one to break the stare, averting her gaze as tears splashed down her cheeks. A torrent of unhelpful thoughts ran through her mind - this was a mistake, Nia really was different now, etc. - as she sniffled and shrank away from the smaller, angrier Captain.
“Fine,” she replied, her quivering voice scarcely above a whisper.
Nia’s hard expression flickered. “Shit…” she exhaled as Sara visibly diminished before her.
The turbolift doors opened onto Danann’s vast quarters. She pulled herself out of the enclosed space as fast as she could, forcing herself to step away from Sara and leave her alone and safe in the ‘lift. The first flush of her anger was subsiding, but the tension in her bones still crackled and held her better self hostage. The urge to break something was intense but she resisted. Just.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at Sara directly, though.
Instead, she chose to lean forward against a mirrored cabinet, clutch the edge tightly and watch her in the reflection. Catching sight of the woman she loved still standing in the turbolift brought her to her senses. She lowered her gaze. An old, smoke damaged disruptor on the cabinet caught her eye; a reminder of the colony she’d lead towards destruction not long before. “I lost my high minded ideals and gentle touch when Zeta Nine was obliterated,” she husked. “Nothing changes you faster than seeing a world built on your precious idealism reduced to rubble and ash.”
The dull roar of rushing blood sounded in Sara’s ears as she pinched the bridge of her nose. It took a moment for the terror to run its course - for her mind to cut through the desperate remorse that accompanied one of these little episodes. She gave a final sniffle as she wiped her eyes before she stepped out of the lift and tried to parse what Nia’d said.
“I’m sure that was difficult,” said Sara, who did her best to make her empathetic tone seem genuine. “I bet it’s especially hard when you don’t have anyone to openly grieve with. When you have to save face as Captain.”
“I never wanted to be a Captain,” Danann admitted, her voice weak. She kept her gaze on the disruptor, afraid of what she’d see in Sara’s eyes if she looked up. “I never wanted this.” She searched for the right words in tense desperation. “I was never meant to lead. I was made to follow, to support, to obey orders… not give them.” Niamh's shoulders sagged. "I can only pretend to be Rome for so long."
Sara’s expression fell as she felt those words reverberate in her chest.
“You don’t have to-”
"Stay." Danann finally turned.
Sara’s breath caught in her throat, her stomach sinking at the request. She stepped forward, her hands moving to frame Niamh’s face, trying to turn the woman’s gaze to her own.
“If I could stay with you forever, I would,” she promised. “But you don’t have to stay here, either. You could come with me. We could find you a place, away from Starfleet, away from the Maquis, where you could just be you. Because that’s all you’ve ever needed to be.”
The redhead bit her lip. "Rome never left his post," she replied simply, her gaze finally alighting on Sara's face. A dark, faraway look took over her features but she shook it off. The implant in her eye pulsed. "Besides," she added with a chipper veneer, "...you just got here. You've come all this way, left Starfleet, cut ties with everything on the other side… how shitty would I look if I just undocked and left now?"
Sara’s brow furrowed, confusion taking her visage as dread filled her belly.
“Nia,” she said gently, “I’m only here for a little while, to make sure you’re okay. I haven’t cut any ties - I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear from the start, I just… I needed to be sure you were okay.”
Niamh’s face fell.
As she visibly struggled to parse the implications of what Sara had said, she shook her head. “No… what? wait… “ She batted Sara’s hands away from her troubled face and stepped backwards. The cabinet connected with her hip. The disruptor on its surface rattled with the impact. “You’re still… a Fed? But I- I had Kitling specifically say ‘No Starfleet’, Sara… No. Starfleet.”
Danann raised a hand to cover her right temple, the site of her injury. Her heart raced and her skin paled. “My god,” she muttered, “...have you any idea what you’ve done...?”
Sara’s gaze steeled a bit as she watched Nia backpedal. She didn’t advance, and avoided the urge to fold her arms as she measured her words.
“I didn’t come here as Starfleet,” answered Sara. “I came in a civilian shuttle with no transponder. Nobody knows where I am, and I won’t be taking any information back to anyone in Starfleet.”
“I showed you everything,” Danann retorted. “And you didn’t think to stop me once?!”
“I’m not here to rat you out, Nia.”
“I don’t care what you’re here to do! I care what you could do... What they,” Niamh pointed dramatically towards the turbolift doors “think you could do!” Danann shook her head. She paced. “I’m holding on to control here by my fingernails, you know,” she gestured towards Sara wildly. “If they find out that you were wearing red this whole time?!”
“All the more reason to come back with me!” argued Sara.
Danann laughed ruefully and halted her pacing. “My god…” she spoke aloud to herself. “I was so desperate to get laid that I handed my Starfleet girlfriend the keys to my kingdom without a second thought.”
Sara’s expression fell, a hand moving to her stomach at that near-literal gut-punch. She closed her eyes, feeling the tears welling behind her eyelids.
“That’s not all you wanted, and you know it,” she said quietly. “Whatever Kitling did to you is fucking with you. You have to see that, Nia.”
"You don't know what you're talking about."
“You were about to throw a kid off a ledge a few minutes ago,” reminded Sara, who fought desperately to keep her tone even. “You threatened me. Yes, those nanoprobes saved your life, but they’re untested. Unproven. Who knows what they’re doing to you? And even if they’re not doing anything, you’re back to work way too soon. An injury like that isn’t just physical, Nia, and I very much doubt whether the good doctor has seen to your mental health at all.”
“I thought I told you not to judge me.” Danann’s voice had turned cold in an instant. “You know…” Danann added after a moment’s heavy silence. “Maybe it's a good thing no-one knows where you are. I doubt you’ll be seeing them any time soon.”
Sara’s jaw set and her brow furrowed, a defiant glint in her shimmering eyes. “You’d do that to my little girl?” she asked, her voice aquiver. “You’d take her mother away?”
“Can’t take away someone who willingly left.” Danann’s arm reached out and picked up the disruptor, her fingers curling with familiarity around its scuffed butt, hefting it casually to her side.
“On your knees.”
Sara knew it’d be useless to try and explain how that logic didn’t quite work, and she was plenty willing to believe that Nia might actually harm her in this state, but she didn’t obey the command. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, her jaw clenched as she stared defiantly.
“You’re gonna have to shoot me,” she whispered harshly. “I won’t be kept from her.”
Niamh's lip twitched. Her thumb grazed the controls of her disruptor, warming up the power cell with a faint, keening whine. "You wanna see her again…?"
Sara shook her head.
"You can't have it both ways, Nia," she replied, her voice breaking. "You either let me go now, or you'll need to shoot me to stop me from leaving. No way in hell am I gonna let you stop me with words. If this is the choice you wanna make, you'll have to go through with it yourself."
"Goddammit, Sara," Danann breathed. Her arm lifted, the disruptor held tightly in a shaking hand. Niamh's face streaked with tears as she aimed. She closed her eyes and fired.
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Post by Einar on Sept 7, 2020 13:01:39 GMT
can you like, not chill for once? great log!
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Post by Nola on Sept 22, 2020 0:48:02 GMT
can you like, not chill for once? great log! We both know the answer to this question.
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Post by Nola on Sept 22, 2020 0:58:24 GMT
Vacation, Part Three With Aoibhe as Niamh Danann
Sara awoke with a dull ache in her shoulder and a leaden weight in her chest. Whatever she’d expected to happen here had been left so far behind so quickly that it was difficult to process, save the deep, primal understanding that something had been lost. Something was over, and however much she might’ve believed her own justifications for coming in the first place, time and events had made her out to be very foolish.
That was what hurt most, she thought. She could’ve handled Nia being angry at her, and she could’ve handled Nia ending their relationship, such as it was. The thing that was harder to shake was this sense that she’d been deluding herself the whole time, that she’d been so arrogant and selfish to think that she could have her cake and eat it too. That she could have it both ways.
Sara had blinded herself to reality for some fool notion of love, and the result was her being captured and kept from her family - the family that loved her truly, and had been there for her the whole time. Apparently that hadn’t been enough for the Captain of the Chiron, and this realization of her own greed was the most damning portion of the weight.
Sara slowly sat up on the floor of her cell, her hands bound behind her back. It was dark and dingy, and the urge to try and find a way out collided headlong into a wall of hopelessness. For all her bluster, she knew there was little she could do to escape at this point. Maybe an opportunity would present herself, but she wasn’t exactly the ‘bust out of prison’ type - that was more Henry’s skillset.
A rhythmic clicking and popping sound nipped at the edge of her mind, drawing her from her introspection. Turning her attention past the humming forcefield she groaned when she spotted Danann sitting silently on a low stool in the gloom. Her red hair hid her bowed face from view. Her leather-clad legs lay lazily apart as her left hand idly snapped and unsnapped the power cell of her disruptor in the space between her knees. She looked like an age-weary warrior waiting for the next battle to begin.
“I don't know what to say,” the Maquis Captain said softly.
“There’s nothing left to say,” Sara answered.
"What am I supposed to do with you?" Niamh leant sideways with a groan and tapped a control panel. Sara felt her shackles loosen, and she shook the discomfort out of her wrists.
“Like you give a shit what I think,” Sara murmured.
"Why is it that Starfleet captains never listen to reason?" Danann asked, ignoring Sara's petulance. "You were told not to come here. But you did anyway." Niamh's anger mingled with grief and shook her voice as she spoke.
She pulled her hair off her face. Her eyes were rimmed with red and her cheeks were flushed. "But since you're determined to ignore my advice, I'm asking you. What am I supposed to do with you?"
Sara got to her feet, staring daggers through the forcefield. She swayed as her head swam, and it took a moment to feel stable.
“You wanna know what your actual problem is, Nia?” she asked, before taking a few careful steps towards the forcefield. “The concept of someone loving you is foreign to you. Why else would you think letting me know you nearly died would result in anything but me coming to see you?”
"I assumed you had more sense than this."
Sara pointed her finger at Nia, inches from the forcefield now.
“I told your mom what had happened to you," she revealed. "Wanna know what she said?”
Niamh's face fell and her breathing quickened. The incessant disruptor click halted.
"Leave her out of this."
“I can’t imagine she was a great caregiver," Sara continued, in her best psychoanalyst impression.
“I swear to god, Sara…” the redhead warned, standing.
“Tony asked me to find out what I could-”
"Sara, stop."
She didn't.
“I’ll never understand how he could just walk out on you like that. I know how much that hurt you. Makes sense you’d think I’d do the same.”
"I said, STOP!" Niamh bellowed. The last thing she needed was a reminder of why Tony had left.
“Let me go, and you’ll never have to worry about me giving a fuck about you again,” whispered Sara.
“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” Niamh replied. “You’ve too much valuable intel locked away in your brain right now and until we can change enough to make it obsolete, you’ll be a guest of the Maquis. I suggest you get comfortable.”
Danann stood and approached the forcefield.
“But you and I both know that if Tony knows you’re here, everyone does - god knows, the man refused to talk to me for years, but he won’t be able to keep his gob shut about this - so we need to make this look legit.” Niamh holstered her disruptor and gave Sara the once over through the crackling barrier. “Can’t have them all ploughing in here after you.”
"He doesn't know where I am, you nut job!" shouted Sara; Nia's implication was not inferred. "I didn't even respond to his message; he has no idea I came to see you! Nobody. Knows. Where. I. Am!"
“So you say.” Danann was not for being deterred. She crossed her arms across her leather-clad chest and pressed on.
“You’ve two choices here. Either you record a comm telling anyone who’ll listen on that side of the border that you’ve defected, or we make it look like you died in a tragic runabout accident when you got into trouble close to the third moon of Teeli Prime. Those gravitational eddies are a bear. No-one would blame you for losing control of your shuttle when the poles shifted.”
Sara balked as she stepped back from the forcefield, shaking her head in response to her 'options.'
"I'm sure if Jonathan could see the monster you've become, he'd be so proud," she spat, before retreating into the darkness and sitting on the floor.
“You don’t get to use Rome against me,” Danann snarled, advancing right up to the forcefield. “You didn’t serve with him like I did. You didn’t see him at his worst. You don’t owe him your life, Sara. You didn’t watch him beat himself up until there was barely anything left...” her voice had started out low and angry but Sara noticed a high-pitched strain taking over. “You didn’t step back and watch him sacrifice everything because he ordered you to and the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint him again.”
"He was my Captain way before he was yours!" countered Sara. "I saw exactly how much the job took from him! I know exactly how it felt to be so desperate to please him in that servile hope that making him proud would stop his descent, only to realize that he made the choice to die cold and alone ages ago. You're doing a wonderful job of following in his footsteps."
“I'm protecting my crew, Sara.” Danann added, emphasising each word. “If he taught me anything it’s how to do that.”
Danann remained where she stood.
“Oh, I’m sure kidnapping me and siding with child-killers is exactly what he'd want,” Sara bitterly remarked. She didn’t wait for further reply, waving her hand dismissively as she turned and stared at the wall.
“You made your choice. Now fuck off.”
“I don’t kill children.”
"Whatever you have to tell yourself."
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Post by Einar on Sept 22, 2020 19:33:18 GMT
yeah okay, wow
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Post by Nola on Sept 22, 2020 21:14:28 GMT
I feel really bad about Sara constantly reflecting on the anti-lessons she learned from Rome. I'll have her remember good things too, I promise.
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Post by aoibheni on Sept 22, 2020 22:36:12 GMT
I hope someone obsesses about me someday as much as these two obsess over Rome!
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Post by Einar on Sept 23, 2020 20:40:46 GMT
I feel really bad about Sara constantly reflecting on the anti-lessons she learned from Rome. I'll have her remember good things too, I promise. no its good!
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Post by Nola on Oct 28, 2020 2:58:31 GMT
Recovery, Part One
Henry held his face in his hands as Sara slept, perhaps more tired than he'd ever been. He had a lot going through his head, naturally. He was angry, both with the Cardassians and himself. He was heartbroken to see the pain she was in; that moment he'd seen her in that cell had scarred him for life. He was despondent at the road his sister would have to travel to truly recover, and the knowledge that full recovery would never happen.
Sara had been broken. A piece of her was gone, and she'd never get it back.
Henry couldn't afford those feelings, though. He couldn't afford to wonder who all was to blame, or whether he was just a little angry at her for asking for his help in the first place. Of course he wouldn't be able to say 'no' to her - he'd be dead if not for her, in more ways than one.
No, that was all 'after' stuff. Right now, these few days after her rescue, were the most important days he would ever have when it came to Sara. He had to be strong for Sara. He had to be strong...
But he wasn't. He was exhausted, and he was scared, and he had no idea how Sara had ever managed to be someone else's rock. Henry had never been a rock in his life. He'd always limped through, relying on the support of others to guide his way. His quiet life with Kesh he loved so dearly was really only successful because he'd stopped trying to go anywhere and simply accepted where he was.
On some level he registered that as something resembling an 'answer,' but introspection would have to wait as the crying thing cut in line.
Henry's shoulders shook with his restrained sobbing, and his fingers quickly became wet with stubborn, rude, impulsive tears that wouldn't accept 'not now' as an obstacle. The Sara Sumner of tears.
His efforts must've been in vain, though, as the sound of Sara sniffling erupted in his ears like a blaring klaxon. The tears would accept that as an obstacle. With a single sniff and quick wiping of his eyes, Henry rose from his chair and moved to sit on the edge of Sara's bunk.
"Hey, I'm here," he whispered hoarsely.
"You shouldn't be," Sara murmured in reply. "None of you should be here-"
"That's too bad," he interjected. "We're here, and we're here for you."
"You could've-"
"We didn't," he insisted. "Everyone's okay. We're all going home."
"Henry." While strained, Sara's tone was clear: 'let me finish.' He did.
"I'm sorry," she managed through the lump in her throat - words which sent a tremor through his chest as he shook his head. "This was stupid, and I shouldn't've done it, and I could've got everyone killed. Don't tell me everything's fine."
More tears slipped past Henry's defenses as he laid on the edge of the bed. He wanted to wrap Sara in as tight a hug as he could manage, but her shoulders were still recovering from surgery, so he simply crossed his arms.
"Okay," he agreed. A clear path laid before him, a line of thought he knew to be 'correct,' despite his reluctance to follow it.
"This was stupid," he whispered. "This was dangerous, a-and these were the consequences you knew might happen, so you feel like a dumb, reckless child who should never hold an ounce of responsibility again."
Sara's mewling sobs told him he'd hit his mark, something for which he resolved to hate himself forever.
"So what?" he asked. "That only means you're like the rest of us."
"Henry, don't-"
"Listen to me," he practically hissed. "You took a massive risk for someone you love, and it blew up in your face, and you're gonna tell yourself that you'll never do something like this again, and that'll be a fuckin' travesty."
Henry sniffed and wiped his eyes once more as Sara continued to whimper and sob. He risked putting his hand on her arm near her elbow, figuring both of them needed that contact in the moment.
"I got through the darkest days of my life because I knew you'd always be willing to do something like this for me. I knew no matter how bad things got for me, no matter how hard I'd fuck up, you'd move heaven and earth to pick me up, and I could sit here and tell you how I want you to keep hold of that part of you so other people can know that kind of support, but you wanna know the truth? I still need it. I still need to know that you'll be out here, willing to risk everything to help someone you love when they need it."
Sara cried for a while as Henry let those feelings of insecurity seep back into his life. He couldn't know if he was helping or hurting. He couldn't whip up some formula to determine the effectiveness of what he was saying, so he'd been left with two options: say what he needs to say, or say nothing.
Sara would've said something.
After a while, her tears ebbed and her breath began to steady. She moved her hand to rest on his, so he promptly threaded his fingers with hers.
"I don't know if..." she murmured, the rest cut off as she lacked the strength to say it.
"That's okay," he answered.
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