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Post by Nola on Feb 8, 2018 17:36:50 GMT
The Swedes are okay, but Norway's where it's at.
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Post by Einar on Mar 18, 2018 16:38:39 GMT
Location: Coridan, Starfleet Command, Temporal Fleet Division, Medical Research Lab 14
Date: May 12, 2548
"Relax Captain....take a deep breath, I promise you this is completely safe"
Jonathan struggled against his restraints, an instinctual reaction to the hypo in the Doctor´s hands. "Then why am I tied up?" he asked as the older Denobulan stood over him, a grim look on his normally grinning face.
"It´s more to protect me....in case the inhibitor doesn´t work"
"Doesn´t work??"
"Don´t worry....I´ve run countless simulations"
----
Jonathan looked at himself in the mirror and for the first time since New Haven, he was terrified.
"The nanoprobes are doing a splendid job, Captain!"
"I can´t see straight....it´s like a blur, but more of a delayed input"
"Your optical nerve is being assimilated and upgraded.....fascinating" The doctor ran the tricorder over Jonathan´s right temple. "Most fascinating indeed!"
Jonathan screamed and knelt over as his right eye suddenly erupted with pain.
A nurse ran to his side and grabbed him before he hit the ground "Captain! Captain are you with us?"
Jonathan put a pale hand out and grabbed her arm to straighten himself out "I´....I´m okay".
"Let me see" Doctor Fel said, walking around to face Jonathan. "Oh my"
-----
Location: Unimatrix 85, Borg Space, Delta Quadrant.
Date: January 11, 2375
Jonathan walked uninterrupted through the hallways of the gigantic Borg installation. No drone paid him a second thought as the nanoprobes within him made him essentially one of them....or was it just them.
The inoculation developed by the Voyager crew...or still to be developed, worked wonders shielding his mind so his personality could remain intact. Unfortunately, Borg nanoprobes were smart...and eventually they will break down the inoculation and he will forget his mission...forget anything but the will of the collective. If he weren´t numb, he would probably have felt a shiver run up his spine.
"Captain! Put down the rifle...." Sara Sumner pleaded with him as she stood between him and his target, a rescued Borg drone standing in the Scimitar´s Sickbay.
"Commander, this drone has one objective, and one objective only! To gain control of our subspace array and call for reinforcements....and it will assimilate us to achieve its objective. Hell that IS its objective!"
"Sir! That is a Starfleet officer under there! Look at the badge....we can save her!"
"I won´t take the risk...now get out of my way. That´s an order"
Sara Sumner stared him down, eyeing his phaser rifle cautiously. "Captain....Jon...you can´t do this"
"I must"
Jonathan reached the correct data node and glanced around to make sure he was alone. His new eye scanned the area, confirming the fact that he was alone. This was a tertiary backup node, no one needed to monitor unless there was a problem. And that gave him space to operate.
Jonathan reached into his body armor and retrieved a small black device. The Borg had the most extensive sensor grid in the galaxy, and Starfleet needed access to monitor a recent temporal reading that no galactic power had taken responsibility for...and had left Temporal Investigations stumped.
Jonathan winced as something seemed to prick his neck....his own bodyarmor doing upgrades...trying to integrate him into the collective. Try again assh..
- Pain....my antenna. What happened? Where is Sara? -
Jonathan turned around in confusion, suddenly dizzy as if he had taken a wrench to the head. -Thalev? -
- Jon..JON! Where am I? -
Jonathan spun around, his cybernetic eye looking for his friend....how could he be here....wait, what year is this?
Realization hit him as he grabbed the bulkhead to stop himself from falling over.
- Thalev has just been assimilated....in the past -
Remories of his time as a young Lieutenant on the Scimitar came flooding back....his being combined with Thalev´s due to a transporter malfunction....they had effective shared a mind before being restored to their own bodies and minds...
Was that link never severed?
- Jon...I´m afraid...what....where are you... -
Jonathan closed his eyes and placed his forehead on the cold bulkhead
- Thalev....you´ll be fine....just....it´s gonna hurt, and it will be horrible. But I promise I will find you again. -
I already have. And will again.
- I...I....Jon....I can´t....Resistance is futile -
Jonathan sighed and squeezed the device. He had to finish his mission.
Thalev would be fine....one day.
- I love you my friend -
Jonathan stood over the dead drone, a charred hole in its chest, its Starfleet badge fused against its pale skin.
"Sir?"
Jonathan looked over at his security officer and thrust the rifle in his direction. "Make sure its disconnected...then dump the drone"
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Post by aoibheni on Mar 18, 2018 16:48:49 GMT
I am not exaggerating when I say I forgot to breathe while reading this. Holy shit.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Mar 18, 2018 20:28:14 GMT
Love it Einar!
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Post by Einar on Jul 10, 2018 9:06:13 GMT
Location: Coridan, Starfleet Command, Temporal Fleet Division, Medical Ward, Counselor's office
Date: July 8, 2551
"It´s weird, seeing all of time but not being part of it"
Counselor Forral sat in a large purple recliner, unceremoniously biting his nails. "You are part of time, Captain"
Rome looked up from his hunched position on the opposing sofa, his hands on his knees. "I have been locked inside this facility for over 18 months".
Forral glanced up "Your service record shows that you have been part of or lead 24 successful incursions".
"That is not the point!" Rome shouted angrily "I do the job that is required of me, and I play by the rules because Starfleet needs me! But this is.....this is just hell. I cannot move forward, or backwards for that matter. I am stuck in this dreadful place, with no hope of ever getting out....because if I get out, I die"
"You are already dead"
"You are the worst Counselor, you know that?"
Rome pushed himself to his feet and walked over to a small trolley, grabbing a bottle of water.
Forral uncrossed his legs and leant forward as he ran a hand through his unkempt beard "By your own analogy Captain, you feel you are in some form of purgatory?"
Jonathan looked back at the man and took a sip of water before responding "Yeah, that sounds about right".
"Why are you here?"
Jonathan leant agains the window sill, enjoying the warm sunlight on his back "Starfleet needs me"
Forral uh-hummed as he bit into a piece of cuticle portruding from his right indext finger. "That has always been your battlecry Captain"
Jonathan could only raise an eyebrow "Any officer´s first duty is to.."
"The Federation, it´s values and citizens....yes yes Captain, I´ve heard the line before. Is that why the Tzenkethi used to refer to you as 'bothl´...what does that translate to again?"
Jonathan shifted uncomfortably before answering "Executioner"
Forrel nodded and leant back once more, taking on his cliché´d pose. "Why was that?"
"You´ll have to ask them"
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Post by Nola on Jul 10, 2018 20:42:17 GMT
Ohhhhhhh, juicy!
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Post by Einar on Jul 23, 2018 14:42:03 GMT
Location: Coridan, Starfleet Command, Temporal Fleet Division, Medical Ward, Counselor's office
Date: July 19, 2551
"My Academy instructer once told me, ´Don´t be a survivor. Survivors will do whatever is required of them. Be a fighter´. It took me a long time to understand what she meant by that"
Forral looked up, then behind him as Jonathan just continued staring back at him "What are you waiting for, an audience? I´m not gonna tell you, am I?"
Jonathan rolled his eyes and sat back in the sofa, crossing his legs. "For a long time it felt like she was telling me to fight, to be active rather than passive. Proactive, not reactionary"
"And that´s not what you take from it now, I take it?"
He shook his head, staring out the window. "No - It was a warning. Starfleet officers have a duty to protect the Federation, but we do so humanely. We don´t do whatever it takes to win a fight, to survive".
"Do you regret it?"
Jonathan looked back at the Counselor "Regret what?"
"Doing whatever it took"
"No....but I accept that it was wrong, but I do not regret it....my actions during the war...wars, I like to believe it saved lives"
"Do you think you will be remembered for that?" Forral asked, his stylus hard at work as he took notes.
"I doubt anyone cares. In the end, I was just a number too, right?"
-----
Forral threw the PADD on the large metal desk with a thud. Heather raised an eyebrow, silently sighing at the Counselor´s melodrama. "In short. Clinically depressed....you need to either give him a break, or return him to his proper place"
"We can´t" she said while cupping her mint tea with both hands. "He´s been very valuable -"
"Valuable my ass! He´s burned out, Commander! Send him back out there and he´s likely to unravel the timeline rather than help restore it"
"Counselor...I´ll ask Command to place him on leave if you so order but-"
"Consider it an order"
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Post by aoibheni on Jul 23, 2018 14:58:14 GMT
Oh my god what are you doing?!?
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Post by Einar on Sept 18, 2018 14:31:00 GMT
Location: Farius Prime
Date: July 26, 2551
"You´re brooding again"
"Hmm?" Jonathan said as he looked up from his glass of rum...or whatever the people of Farius Prime called rum. It was like sweet and spicy vermouth. He kinda liked it. He wished Ethan were here to enjoy it with him."I am not" he said sternly, taking a final sip of the liquor and holding it out for her to refill the glass.
"What am I, your maid now?" the woman said, hands on hips as she stood over the recliner, judging him. "You´ve been on that dusty old thing since yesterday, staring out the window like a badly written melodramatic holo-character".
"Just get me a drink, will you?" he growled as he shook the empty glass over the armrest of the chair.
Iliria, hands still on hips, looked down at his scruffy and unkempt face before letting out an audible sigh "I liked you better when I first met you, you know. When you had showered and shaved". She strutted over to the liquor cabinet and retrieved the bottle, swinging her hips as she did, glancing at the mirror on the wall dissapointingly as Jonathan did not even glance at her. "And a lot of men like it when I walk away from them!"
"I can imagine, I bet most of them like it when you don´t come back either" he said drily, his eyes back on the window. It was a dark and stormy night, a light post outside the motel swung back and forth as the wind hammered it, and the window creaked once in a while. It was calming.
"You´re lucky that you pay me so well" she said through clenched teeth while she filled the glass to the brim and placed the bottle next to the recliner.
Jonathan brought the glass to his lips and took a long sip, savoring the taste of the rum once more. "I like this" he finally said after a few moments.
"The box of empty bottles could have told me that" she responded annoyingly as she sat down on the sofa to his right, crossing her long slender legs, followed by crossed arms over her chest. "So, what do we want to talk about today?".
Jonathan had come here under orders, well not here under orders, but on mandatory leave. He chose this place. He wasn´t sure why. He needed to be somewhere far from the standard path, somewhere he could not affect current galactic affairs by appearing alive on some formal records. Somewhere that he could put his feet up and relax. Why he came here, he had no idea. Perhaps he identified with the locals.
"Can you put on a sweater or something?" he finally said, receiving a look of disapproval from Iliria. "No" she responded forcefully "I´m warm".
He sighed and took a sip of his glass, "Fine"
"Fine!"
They had had this, or a similar argument for the past five days now. He kinda enjoyed riling her up, in a way she reminded him of an old friend. But the way she dressed made it uncomfortable to associate her with her memory.
For a long time, they just sat in silence, listening to the sound of the storm outside as he sipped his drink. At one point Iliria stood up to get a bottle of something sickly sweet from the refridgerator, but returned without interrupting his thinking.
Thinking. Hah. More like self pity. Depression. Feelings of hopelessness.
"I was made to come here" he finally said, resulting in a shocked look from his companion who leaned forward, resting her hands on her bare knees. "Why would anyone come here...and ordered by who?"
Jonathan smirked at that "Not here, per say. But ordered to take a break....clear my head, rest, nurture my katra, all that new-age bullshit".
Iliaria nodded thoughtfully "Ordered by who?"
"That doesn´t matter....and it doesn´t concern you, so don´t worry about that okay?"
That answer seemed to satisfy her. "Is it working?"
"Is what working?"
"Is your katra nurtured?....what is a katra anyway?" she grabbed the bottle of pink alcopop and sucked on the straw as she awaited his answer.
"That´ll rot your teeth"
"Gee, sorry grandpa" she said, barely interrupting her drinking.
Jonathan smiled and leaned back, crossing his own legs and tucking at his denim shirt. This chair reminded him of his own chair. Not that technological wonder on the Hyperion, but the old rustbucket that was on the Bridge of the Scimitar. That chair was nothing but trouble, falling apart every other week, needing countless repairs and adjustments. But they had never replaced it. Not until it was blown apart.
"I want to hear more about Section 41"
"Thirty-One" he corrected her.
"Yeah that....I liked the story about the Orion woman"
Jonathan smirked, his heart beating a little faster at the thought of her "Yeah, me too. But she was just a pawn...she had dealings with him"
"Nixon!"
Jonathan grunted and finally turned his head away from the window to face her "My god woman, you have a memory like a sieve. Dixon! His name was Dixon."
"Oh yeah...." she grinned at him and sipped of her drink seducitvely before placing it on the table between them "what does it matter anyway, you pay me a lot of money to listen and to keep my mouth shut afterwards...isn´t it better if I forget?"
"...Point taken" he said, his eyes back on the darkened window.
Jonathan collected his thoughts, thinking back to all those years ago..."He was a force to be reckoned with....cold, calculated, incredibly smart. But psychotic. Like properly...I made it my life´s goal to take him down. I put myself, my ship and my crew in his path many times. Taunting him, goading him....just for revenge. I wanted him to suffer, just as he made me suffer".
"Okay okay...I get that. But there´s something I don´t get. Section Thity-One was eradicated long before you were born...."
"Yeah, sure. Don´t worry about it"
"Yeah but it doesn´t make sense, love"
He reached into his shirt pocket, retrieving another slip of latinum and tossed it her way. She grabbed it expertly and slid it between her breasts. "Makes perfect sense now, continue"
He smirked and sipped of his rum before he continued "I never got him.....he died of old age somewhere, sometime. But I still have that fire in my gut....I wanted to kill him".
"Well he did shoot you" she shrugged and stuck the straw back in her mouth.
"Yeah.....but it doesn´t feel right, you know? That fire. I was so angry at the Section for so long. I vowed to never ever stoop to their level, to become like them. And then, there was Vintaki"
"Who´s Vintaki?"
"It´s not a....nevermind. Vintaki is where I saw the other side. I cooperated with Thirty-One, in order to save a lot of lives. And I realized. What if that was what he was trying to do all along?"
"Ni..Dixon?"
"Yeah....was I the obstacle to the well-being of others?"
"I don´t know, love. But you seem like a good one to me"
"That´s just because I´m paying you" he said, emptying the last of the glass into his mouth.
"True...but I could have taken your money and left, I didn´t"
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Post by aoibheni on Sept 18, 2018 15:15:49 GMT
I really, really, really want him to look up some of the people he knew back in the day to see what happened to them. Aaargh!
Lovely piece of writing, E. If anyone needs a drink and a bit of a chat, it's him.
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Post by Einar on Sept 25, 2018 14:00:28 GMT
Location: Farius Prime
Date: July 27, 2551
He jerked near violently as he came to, his knuckles white from clutching onto the blanket covering him. He had fallen asleep on the dirty old sofa, but now rudely awaken by his all too familiar nighthmare.
"Are you alright love?"
Jonathan reached up and wiped wetness from his face before glancing over at Iliria who sat on the recliner nursing a cup of tea. She was wearing more clothes today, however extremely snug on her young and malnutritioned body.
"I´ll be fine" he croaked, his throat dry and sore from a night of liquid slumber. "What time is it?"
"just around 11 in the morning love....I found you on the sofa when I went out for a cig at three....covered you up so you wouldn´t freeze to death" she said before blowing into her mug, filling the area with a spicy and sweet aroma.
"How sweet" he managed to cough up before rising to a sitting position and fumbling around the mess that used to be the salon table, garnering an eyeroll from the young lady. "What are you looking for, hon?"
Jonathan said nothing but continued moving empty bottles and wrappers aside until he found the hypospray, loaded with a nice mixture of muscle relaxcents, painkillers and vitamins. "My magic cure....kills any hangover. Issued to me by an old Doctor of mine after a rather nasty stay with the Green one, but I found it has a better application for situations like these. I call it the French miracle."
"What´s French?"
"Right...nevermind" he sighed before placing the injector onto his neck and pressing the release. He could feel himself returning to normal as soon as the chemical coctail hit his system, leading him to lean back into the sofa and letting out a sigh of relief.
Iliria rolled her eyes again, her signature style before taking a lingering sip of her tea. "You looking to clock out early, love?"
Jonathan merely smiled as he looked down at his hand, still clutching the hypo "nah, problem with me is I never die"
"Oh he´s a poet too" she said sarcastically, placing her steaming mug on her thighs, grinning slightly as she saw his gaze follow it.
"Who´s Eva anyway?"
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Post by Einar on Nov 7, 2018 16:11:09 GMT
Location: Farius Prime
Date: July 27, 2551
Jonathan glanced up, ashamed of his wandering eyes. "She was the only woman that I truly loved. But I never told her that"
Iliria genuinely looked hurt, perhaps familiar with the situation herself as she brought the tea to her lips, blowing on it gently. "Do you wish you had?" she asked gently, even affectionately.
Jonathan looked at the hypospray in his hand and dropped it on the seat next to him, before leaning back in the sofa "I don´t know if it would have changed anything. She was halfway across the galaxy from me at any given time".
"Starship Captain?"
Jonathan smirked "Press"
"I don´t trust the news" she retorted, taking a sip of her tea before continuing. "All they do is stir up trouble".
Jonathan smiled, thinking not to correct her. The trouble was already there, the press just uncovered it. "She was good at that, aye.....she was on the frontlines of a war, surrounded by the dead and dying but she kept reporting".
"And where were you?"
Jonathan reached up and scrathed his ear, those years had been turmoulous and full of danger. "I was the one feeding the fire".
Iliaria chuckled and leant back, crossing her long slender legs "Why does that not surprise me? And after this war...you still did not tell her you loved her, why?"
"Because they killed her"
"oh" she said awkwardly, lowering her mug once more "I didn´t mean to..."
Jonathan smiled sadly, "It´s okay. I got my revenge"
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Post by aoibheni on Nov 7, 2018 18:17:44 GMT
It's been too long since we last heard from old Johnny boy. This was great, Einar.
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Post by Einar on Dec 3, 2018 7:13:56 GMT
Location: Farius Prime
Date: Early morning July 28, 2551
Written by Einar & Aoibhe
Iliria listened on attentively as he told her the story….stories from the war, a war long passed with demons and angels and all manner of scum in between. A war that needed not be fought for any other reason that because men and women in uniform decided it had to be.
Hundreds of million of lives lost, on the Federation side alone. The bloodiest war since the Dominion, at least while Jonathan was alive, technically alive.
He told her how Eva Arrani had died fleeing Sigma Rho, trapped in an escape pod in the crossfire between the good guys and the bad guys. How he had tried to search for the Yukzuka who had picked up her pod, even though weeks had passed...how he had listened to her final comm from that doomed ship over and over again. How she had cried.
She listened while he kept pouring himself a new drink, and while he cried. And she sat there a while after, with neither of them saying a word. After a while Jonathan cleared his throat and stood up to get a fresh bottle of rum.
She watched him turn his back to her, his emotions raw and visible in his stride and the set of his tense shoulders. She remained reclined, passive, as she considered what he needed from her. It had been six days of this so far, and she didn't come cheap.
She had realised on day four that she liked him. He was honest with her, even if he wasn't capable of the same honesty with himself.
He seemed distant, though. Distant in a way she couldn't understand. He trusted her, that was clear, and she'd caught his eye admiring her body more than once, but still he wouldn't let her near him. He was like a beaten dog, no longer capable of basic trust.
Or perhaps he was afraid to trust himself.
On a whim, she stood, her body stretching itself after so long seated and took several, languid steps towards him.
Jonathan grabbed a bottle of the local rum and closed the cabinet again, catching her reflection in the glass, watching her stretching her long form before walking his way.
“Get two glasses” he said sternly as he turned, walking past her, feeling for a second like he was back on the Bridge of a starship ordering Feyna to get him a fresh cup of Rak. “It’s about time you drink something better than that ...pop”
I'm a sucker for a sad puppy, she thought, rolled her eyes, and resigned herself to the role of counsellor, for now. She selected two tumblers from the cabinet, holding the glasses together with pinched fingers, and carried them over to him, swaying them gently at her side.
“If I try your thing, you have to try mine,” she told him.
“Alcopop?” he said as he sat down on the sofa again, clearing off the bottles and equipment on the table before him to make space for the rum and tumblers “I´d rather drink Andorian slug juice...and I have”
“Uh-huh,” she replied, her expression unreadable. “You’ve done a lot of things you didn’t wanna do. What’s one more?” She remained standing, her posture relaxed, one knee slightly bent, the tumblers still firmly in her fingers’ grip.
“Sit down” he said, eyeing her hips and the tumblers at her side. “And I´ll try one glass...small glass”
A tiny glint of satisfaction crossed her lips as she slid into the space beside him with a smoothness that belied her years of experience. She leant across him a little to deposit the glasses on the table, lingering there for just a second too long. This close, he could smell her perfume.
Jonathan took a deep breath, his head swirling with a mixture of grief and intoxication. This was the closest she had been since he picked her up, from that thug. He glanced briefly at the chair opposite him, the chair she usually occupied. “Go on then” he said, tugging at his shirt.
She grasped the neck of the rum bottle in her hand and turned her head to glare at him. “Please…?” she goaded. Jonathan smirked at that, leaning back in the sofa, putting some distance between the two “Just pour, Ili´”
“I’ve been better treated by better dressed men than you,” she grumbled, but poured nonetheless. She sat back and offered him a glass. He reached for it, but she didn’t let go.
He held the glass, his fingers brushing against hers. “Why do you work for him?” he asked gently, his concern genuine.
“Why does anyone do anything, love?” she asked softly, finally letting him take the glass. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” She observed him then, her lips parting ever so slightly as her eyes took him in.
Jonathan pulled the glass swiftly towards himself and downed a sip, letting out a long sigh of relief before placing the glass back on the table “He´s not a good man”
She scoffed. “Is there really such a thing?” Idly, she rested a light hand on his thigh and reached forward and across him for her own glass.
“I guess not” he said defeated, grabbing his own glass once more and downing the remaining contents “For a while I thought maybe, but I think it all comes down to individual decisions, not an overall grade. What you do in the moment is what matters"
“Starship Captain… War Hero… I guess you’re a hobo philosopher, too now, love?” she took a sip of her drink and winced.
He gently took her hand, softly moving it off his thigh to her own. “It´s supposed to taste like that……..I think. Your teeth will thank you later”
She stared at him briefly.
“Why am I here?” she asked suddenly, her hand resting awkwardly on her bare leg where it had been deposited. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “All you do is drink, and mope and sleep and mope in your sleep. And wake up and drink some more. You could have got a barmaid for far less than I’m costing you, hon.”
Jonathan looked up, his hands around the bottle of rum “I...don´t know”. He continued to pour himself a new drink before placing the bottle down on the table again. “I saw you two days before, you know” he said. “Two days before I...paid for you. You made a comment on my shoes”
“‘Cool shoes, wanna party?’” She remembered. She smiled and pulled her long, thin legs underneath her so she sat, perched beside him on the sofa. The hem of her skirt rested softly on her upper thighs and she did nothing to pull it lower.
He looked down at her bare knees, then back at the tumbler in his hands. “You are what, twenty? Twenty one? Too young to throw your life away”
“I'm not the one looking for my life at the bottom of a bottle.” She rested a hand on the sofa between her knees and leant forward. The split in her skirt shifted, revealing a glimpse of lace. “Maybe I am throwing my life away, babe, but at least I'm having fun doing it.”
“I´m not looking for my life, Ili´. My life is over….I´m just postponing the inevitable” he rose from the sofa and grabbed the bottle on his way to the recliner on the other side of the table. “I just don´t want you to live your life in...places like these, with men like me”
“I don't,” she replied, as he slumped into the chair opposite. “Normally, my dates bring me out,” she complained. She turned her skinny body to face him once more, unfolding her long legs and planting her toes on the dingy carpet. “Normally, I get taken to nice restaurants, or fancy parties. I get shown off to his or her friends,” she rose from the sofa and spun in a slow, graceful circle, “I go dancing…” She completed her twirl and looked over at him.
“Either that, or it's a three hour pump and dump.” She shrugged her thin shoulders.
“And since I don't see any party invitations under all this trash, and I've been here for… six… days… and you've barely touched me, I think the only reason I'm here is to make sure you don't die in your sleep.” She stepped forward, and with an unexpected grace, climbed onto his lap, her legs straddling his. She ignored his immediate discomfort and spoke softly, “but it can't even be that, right love? Cause you've already told me you can't die.”
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Post by Einar on Jan 6, 2019 11:42:55 GMT
Location: Farius Prime
Date: Early morning July 28, 2551
Written by Einar & Aoibhe
Jonathan inhaled her intoxicating perfume and almost let himself sink into her soft neck, he could feel her hands on his arms, her nails digging into his skin. “No”
He pushed her off his lap with enough force to send her flying into the seat next to him “Don't”
She yelped, landing unhurt in an undignified heap. Her chair spun, skewed off to the side. She stared at him through her hair as she straightened herself gingerly. “Well,” she said, finally, her voice controlled, “good to know you can move when you wanna.” She raised a quivering hand and pulled her hair out of her eyes.
Jonathan growled as he stood up and grabbed the bottle of rum with him as he stormed out onto the small balcony. He wasn't angry with her, but angry at having allowed himself to get so familiar with the young woman…..but perhaps most of all, he was angry at being dead. He took a deep breath as the rain pelleted him, soaking him through. “I want to go home” he said to himself softly, perhaps hoping some deity listening could make it happen.
“Why me?” came a voice from behind him. The rain continued to drench the balcony as his companion stepped barefoot to his side. The wind caught her hair as the rain soaked it, flattening it to the sides of her face and her bare neck. Her clothes, already tight, clung to her even more.”You said you saw me days earlier… why did you come back for me? Who do I remind you of?” She was careful this time not to touch him.
Jonathan took a swig of the bottle and continued letting the rain wash over him “Her name is….was Sara. She too had zero concerns about what others thought of her, and she dressed the same way as you...or barely dressed….and she gave me shit when I needed it”
Iliria took this in as she wrapped her fingers around the balcony’s slick railing. “You know,” she said, straining to be heard above the clatter of rain on the windows behind them, “most of the time, my dates want me to be someone specific for them. Maybe their wife’s sister, the boss’s daughter, a shipmate who’d cut their dick off if they knew what they were thinking...” she turned around, leaning her back against the railing, her elbows bent back and propping her up. Rain trailed in small rivulets down her young face, eventually dripping from her chin and disappearing tantalisingly under the low-cut neckline of her top. “I help take the edge off.”
Jonathan glanced over at her, watching the drops slide down her face, passing her lips.
She looked over at him, her expression matter-of-fact. “I can be Sara, you know. You can do whatever you want. Really scratch that itch. No-one will ever find out -.”
He actually smirked at that “I don´t need you to be anyone else….I just need you to be the girl I spotted on the street that day, and instead of trying to sell me something, she made me laugh”
She threw him an exasperated glance. She had thought for one glorious moment there that she had him! She had sensed his interest rise a little, but no. No, he insisted on being more monk than man and the part of her brain that had been augmented to crave intimacy screamed in continued frustration.
She’d tried waiting for him to come to her, she’d tried coaxing him, goading him, pushing him, tempting him with a familiar face, nothing had worked.
Her shoulders sagged, the rain falling heavily all around her, the lights of the surrounding city lending her a temporary halo. “Then, I’ll tell you a joke,” she conceded. She hopped lightly, perching herself on the balcony railing, her bare feet dangling off the floor.
“Be careful!” he gasped as she recklessly shifted her weight perched on the thin railing. He crossed the distance between them in a split second, dropping the bottle and shattering it in a million pieces as he grabbed her by the waist. He glanced down to the street twenty stories below. “You could have killed yourself”
“I knew you wouldn’t let that happen…” her voice whispered, close to his ear.
Jonathan shook his head and took a deep breath, the bottle still in his hands. “It better be good”. He wanted nothing more than to act out his fantasies with this woman, but he knew that if he ever did, he would feel shame.
She threw him a quizzical look.
‘How do you chat a sex worker up at an orgy?” she asked finally, swinging her legs idly.
He pondered, thinking his sheltered Federation upbringing probably killed off any part of his mind that could conjure up such imagery or jokes. “I don´t know” he said, almost as if he was proud of it.
She leant forward a little, closing the gap between them. Then she bit her lip seductively and looked him up and down. “Come here often?” she said, a smile cracking through at the last second.
He smiled briefly at that “Why do you insist on seducing me?”
This left her flummoxed. “Don’t you want me to? Sex is fun, you know,” she answered awkwardly. She considered further, wondering how best to answer so odd a question. “Like, a lot of fun.” She moved her hips forward slowly and let her feet drop to the balcony floor. The rain had by now soaked her clothes through and they clung ever tighter to her body.
“I’m probably twenty years your senior, and I paid your ‘boss’ money for your company…..sweetheart, it is wrong. You don’t owe me anything. You are free to leave whenever you want as I made clear. You get the money either way”.
Iliria’s face fell as she struggled hard to hide the extent of her disappointment.
“I'm gonna take a shower and dry off,” she retorted, hurt.
She swept past him, off the balcony and out of the rain. “You should eat something. You're getting mean, love.”
“Good one Jon….” he said to the darkness as he took another sip of the bottle. Did he ever stop pushing people away?
“Ili, wait” he said as he went in after her.
He was probably gonna regret this.
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