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[JP] Lt. Sienelis, Lt. Marshall, Lt. JG Josett, PO Johns, Cullo, Taeval - Romulans, Countrymen, and Lovers (Parts I-XVII)


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Another monster chain of sims from Quinn and Jo, and once again, it's an absolute pleasure to read.

I've included every single part here, with little sub-titles so each part is appropriately credited.

Excellent work as always!

[JP] Lt. Marshall, Lt. (JG) Josett & Cullo - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part I)

((Safehouse, Centennial City, Ketar V))

 

Set a short walk away from the Explosive Decompression Bar, far enough to be out of earshot of whatever death metal was the flavour of the month, was the Republic Arms. Made to be a small, traditional-style public house for dock workers who wanted a quiet life, it had the prestigious honour of being the gateway to an underground world behind. The guard on the door — an Andorian in a set of impressive sunglasses with a cold and stiff demeanour — checked them over, one by one, noting where weapons were on their person, then looked to Cullo. 

 

Wiping at the ridge of his nose, Cullo whispered something to the Andorian, and while no words returned, save for a direct look with a raised white eyebrow, Cullo shook his head and the doors opened. 

 

A long, carved wooden bar stretched across the back wall, a wide selection of bottles on the shelves behind, and a handful of patrons attempting to pour themselves into pint glasses. From the high ceiling shone bright lights dimmed to dark over time, casting an eerie glow over everything below. The smell of aged leather and grease clung to the air. The bartender stood behind looked up from her PADD with uninterested eyes before returning her attention to the illuminated PADD once more. 

 

Cullo signalled over his shoulder with two fingers, pointing toward the rear of the room, the bartender pressing a control beneath the bar, and where once was a wall a door slid open. On the other side, computer equipment trilled and sang, illuminating the room in changing colours. 

 

Bear followed Lena through and stopped as the door slid shut behind them. 

 

O. Marshall: Zeron, mind telling us what’s going on?

 

Cullo: Welcome to the CCMS Special Investigation Division of Centennial City, subdivision No One Gives A [...]. ::He sniffled, dabbing at his nose as he shrugged his jacket off, rainwater pelting the floor, and threw it over a chair.:: Make yourselves at home. 

 

A broad grin lit up Lena's face, the hybrid bursting out in laughter. She threw an arm around Zeron's shoulder, her damp sleeve immediately soaking the fabric of his shirt, and patted his shoulder. There was no sourness in her surprise, delighting as ever in the adventure and the unknown.

 

Josett: A rogue after my own heart.

 

Cullo: Former rogue. ::He smiled at Lena with a [...]ed eyebrow.:: How they got me doing this. 

 

He ruffled his hand through damp hair, tousling already tousled black further still. Without the rain pelting at his face every few seconds, the effect of the Milk Nose was apparent under the harsh lights. White dried at the edges of his dark ridges, dark skin a little paler on either side from continuous dabbing and blotting, and he wheezed a little as he dropped into the chair beside his desk.

 

Bear hadn’t moved yet. His hands had dropped to his hips, his blue eyes narrowed and frowning, looking around the room as if any second it’d set on fire, or the walls would change and it would become another seedy dive of the seedy city. Swindled by a prime swindler. 

 

O. Marshall: They must’ve had you over a barrel. 

 

Zeron shrugged a shoulder up and with a disgruntled expression, unclipped the badge from his back waistband, chucking it onto the desk. The silver and gold of the Colonial Coalition Marshals Service, United Federation of Planets, emblazoned in the middle. 

 

Cullo: The usual, only this time I had Naixi — you met her at the Welders’ — with Atomo on the way, and you know what happens. ::His shoulder shrugged again.:: The things we do for love. 

 

Josett: I wouldn't know. ::She slapped him on the shoulder again and stepped away, grinning at Bear.:: Sold my last lover out to save my skin.

 

Cullo: Or you could do that. ::Chuckling, he kicked his wet boots up onto the desk edge, reached for the pill bottle in his jacket pocket and tossed one into his mouth. He tilted his head to Bear with an amused grin.:: I bet you sleep real easy at night. 

 

O. Marshall: Like a baby. If I’m lucky, I’ll die smiling.

 

Bear flicked an eyebrow up to Lena with a small smile, amusement clear, affection twisting around it, though it came alongside a gentle thrum of his heart underneath his breastbone. Enough of that. Time for action. He shrugged his jacket off and chucked it over a chair, ruffled his hand through wet blond hair and sighed, beard drying and making his skin itch. 

 

O. Marshall: What’s the setup here? Why the secrecy?

 

Cullo: That depends. ::He glanced over his shoulder to the retreating pirate.:: What are your ties to the Syndicate like these days?

 

Josett: What do you think they're like?

 

Cullo: A rogue after my heart. ::He mimicked the line back to her as he reached for the small box of snuff on the desktop, tossing it up in his hand.:: CCMS has been here for a while, monitoring the Andorian arm of the Syndicate, comings and goings. The Volna Viria grows every day, ::punctuated with a weary sigh,:: and then, there’s the Romulan side of it all, as you might have heard. 

 

She nodded, running her palm over the top of the monitors, peering with casual interest at the images, text and data emblazoned on them. One caught her attention, and she tilted her head to the side, studying the profile being shown.

 

Josett: Refugees and immigrants forming groups for support and protection. But everything costs money, and when you're already on the outskirts of society, it's easier to find your loot on the wrong side of the law. ::A story repeated across planets within and without the Federation, long before their populations reached for the stars. She flicked a glance toward Bear.:: What's that saying about roads and goals?

 

O. Marshall: “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” 

 

The colony-raised spacer perched on the edge of a non-operational console, his arms crossing over his chest and brow furrowed like two dense bushes chasing one another. He’d heard those stories before, falling from the lips of those who had good intentions and let others suffer for it. The Cardassians had good intentions for their own people, and that turned into a steaming pile of peng dung quickly.

 

Zeron threw the snuffbox into the air and caught it, pointing a finger to Lena as she delved for information. 

 

Cullo: Got it in one. It’s a difficult situation here as it is. We’re just trying to make it a little fairer for everyone involved. ::His chair tilted backwards, allowing the Bajoran more room to relax, cradling his posterior delightfully.:: So, are you two going to tell me why you’re here, or feed me the same crap your human gave the CCMS?

 

Josett: What did he give the CCMS?

 

Cullo: “Visiting friends and family.” ::He nodded, dabbing at his nose and stretching the ridges.:: Suspicious when he’s never been — on record — to the Shoals.

 

Ah, when the truth was more unbelievable than fiction. Lena chuckled and turned away from the screen, glancing toward Bear. His friend, but he was quiet while she led the conversation, and she wondered if it was to give him a chance to watch and assess. Whatever the reason, his judgement was better than hers for this question, and she raised her brow in a silent query; offer more details or not?

 

O. Marshall: We’re looking for someone. Young guy, Romulan, dark hair, pointy ears. If he’s anything like his sister, attitude as long as the Mother Road. ::The blond felt for the back of his neck, wiping away drying rainwater and drying his hand on his pants.:: He might have been a refugee from Hobus. 

 

Cullo: You just described fifty percent of the Romulans who cross my desk. 

 

A tinny buzz sounded through the room, like the angry noise of a hornet stuck in the walls. On one display appeared an image of the front doors where the Andorian kept watch, and a familiar pair coming up to it. Despite the incoming additions to their get together, Zeron didn’t move, but he fiddled with the snuffbox in his hand. 

 

O. Marshall: There’s a chance he works at the dock. Last time Starfleet was here with the Veritas, they made a connection. Building aid camps, providing relief after… whatever it was. 

 

Josett: Fire in a tenement block.

 

The Bajoran screwed his nose up as he remembered it; the chair came back from the tilt to the upright as he put the snuffbox down, drew out his handkerchief and scratched at the ridges of his nose. Getting to his feet, he moved to one of the display computers next to Lena and brought up what information he had. 

 

Cullo: Anything else we can go on? Does the guy have a name? A family? Forged papers, identification?

 

Lena extended a finger toward the feed from the front entrance, the human and the Romulan a few steps away from arrival. They didn't look as though they'd come off too badly from their encounter with the Volna Viria; no limping gait or cradled arms, no stiff posture from hidden hurts. A muted, cool wash of relief trickled down her back — or maybe it was just raindrops dripping from her curls. 

 

Josett: That's your latinum mine, right there.

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Orson Marshall

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

 

&

 

Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

Zeron Cullo

Colonial Coalition Marshals Service

Centennial City

G239304JM0

Link to comment

[JP] Lt. Sienelis, Lt. Marshall, Lt. JG Josett, PO Johns & Cullo - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part II)

((Safehouse, Centennial City, Ketar V))

 

Zeron exhaled a sigh and nodded; the race to the finish line was a marathon, not a sprint. Picking up a well-worn glass from his desk, the Bajoran downed the contents in one, grimaced and placed it into the small receptacle of a replicator built into the wall. Within a second, both the glass and contents had fizzled out of existence. 

 

Cullo: You want a drink, there’s the bar.

 

O. Marshall: There’s an actual bar on the other side of that wall. 

 

Cullo: You saw the bartender, right? ::He laughed, and it made some white fluid slide from his nose ridges.:: Ask for a [...]tail, you’ll get a club soda. Computers don’t argue back. 

 

Josett: Especially after a little creative engineering.

 

Lena patted the screen that had been the source of much interest, an update detailing Syndicate members recently arrived in the system, along with their known associates and activities. A few familiar names, one or two that could be a concern if their search took long. She peeled away toward the replicator and a moment later, a glass of rum was whizzing into existence.

 

Bear chuckled as a grin appeared on his features, head shaking at his wife. Another burp of communications ricocheted around the back room and the wall-turned-door slid back into the recess, revealing a tired-looking sodding Russian with a slowly developing bruise around his neck and the pain in his [...] Romulan coming through. Three people in the cramped space now fit five. Standing from his perching post, Bear didn’t let up on the frown while Chris actively ignored him, pacing straight past and stole the glass of rum from Lena’s hand, knocking it back in one. 

 

O. Marshall: Eventful walk around the neighbourhood?

 

Valesha's expression was thunder. She watched Lena grin at the Russian rum thief, pat him on the shoulder and replicate them a replacement pair of drinks. Shaking her head, she shrugged off her jacket, her collar stained bottle green on one side where the rain had washed blood down her cheek and neck.

 

Sienelis: I'm cold, wet, we've not even been here a day, I've already been accused of being a spy — and oh yeah, Chris was almost murdered. ::She ran a hand through her hair, the damp stinging against grazed knuckles, and flicked water on the floor.:: I hate this planet.

 

Cullo: You get used to it. A little from column A, a little from column B. 

 

The Bajoran shrugged a shoulder up, drawing his handkerchief out again to dab at the nose dribbles coming from his ridges. More noticeable inside than outside, where the rain swept away the majority. He sniffled and rolled his sleeves up, the cuffs to his elbows, the neck of his jumper beneath his coat tight around his throat. His gaze lingered on Valesha for a little while longer, then to Chris, already halfway through the second glass of Lena’s rum, then back to Valesha.

 

Cullo: You’d be the starship thief, I take it, because, forgive the candour, you don’t look Russian. 

 

The Romulan became still, glaring across the room at Zeron as though he had just reached over and slapped her. For a second, it looked as though she might let her temper get the better of her, let that coiled energy loose and launch herself across the room in fury. Instead, she clenched her jaw, hard enough to make her teeth ache, and shook her head in frustration.

 

Sienelis: Sure. Fine. Why not? Spy, thief, it's all the same. No chance a Romulan could be known for anything decent.

 

The room went quiet for a second in the flash and wake of Valesha’s rising anger, quiet and rumbling like the storm clouds. Chris crossed slowly, pushing the glass half full of rum into his partner's hands. He moved his head from one side to the other, his hand reached up for his throat, rubbing one side of it where Hupyrian fingers had pressed and choked into his neck bones. Zeron chuckled. 

 

Cullo: Bad reputations travel faster, and in a place like this, opens more doors than it shuts. ::He sniffed up heavily and crossed his arms.:: CCMS can help, but I need to know what you’re doing here. 

 

Subtle flickers of guilt and embarrassment glittered in Valesha's eyes when she looked toward Chris. She stared at the rum for a moment, then knocked it back, savouring the burn that coursed down her throat and into her belly. Chris rubbed his hand across the back of her shoulders, with a sigh that said he wished this entire day would end. 

 

Sienelis: I just want to find my brother. ::Her cheek was throbbing, itching where blood and rain dried on her skin, and her eyes fell on the bruises forming on the Russian's neck. She reached over, delicately rubbing her thumb across the purpling marks with a frown.:: Have you got a first aid kit here?

 

Cullo: Under the desk. Short on hypo vials, but the dermal regenerator should have some juice in it. 

 

Johns: I’ll sort it out. ::Quietly from Russian to Romulan, hazel and green, his hand between her shoulders on her damp shirt.:: Just park your backside on the sofa. 

 

Hearing their conversation, Zeron shifted the coat and a blanket from the sofa, draping them over a chair instead. As Chris retrieved the first aid kit, Valesha followed orders and dropped herself onto the cushions, her eyes on her partner, weariness echoing through her bones as Zeron continued.

 

Cullo; This brother of yours got a name?

 

Sienelis: Taeval ir-Jhianhre tr'Sienelis. I think he's going by Taeval, at least. I don't know if he's using the rest or going by a different house-clan here.

 

Zeron nodded, his eyes focusing on a point of the display monitors for a second, the information on the Syndicate Lena had browsed through. Blinking to bring himself out of it, he replicated himself a mug of jin'sarra — hot Bajoran coffee, steaming when he picked it up — and took a drink. 

 

Cullo: Any idea what he was doing down here? Seems you’re both a long way from home. 

 

Sienelis: That would be the home that blew up ten years ago.

 

Cullo: Refugee, then. Back to the first question. Any idea why he’s here? Or what he does here?

 

The medical kit thunked to the floor as Chris knelt beside the sofa, dermal regenerator in hand, the scene not dissimilar to a shuttle on the Njörðr, a long time ago. The whir of the regenerator sounded as Chris touched Valesha’s chin gently, shifting cheekbones and cut-glass jaw to the side, exposing the cut smeared in emerald green. 

 

Sienelis: No. I haven't seen him since then. All I have to go on is a sighting from someone on the Veritas. Helped them rebuild some housing, apparently.

 

Another mouthful of coffee swallowed and Zeron dropped the mug onto his desk, pulled his coat from the back of his chair and shrugged it onto his shoulders. A pained expression — like he was about to do something uncomfortable — crossed his face and he popped his collar, huddling himself inside his jacket. 

 

Cullo: I’ll be back shortly. Break nothing. ::He pointed to Lena.:: And don’t be raiding the computer, either. Yev, I hate rain. 

 

Inclined to protest, though not entirely sure at what, Valesha instead lifted her hands and dropped them back onto her thighs. Lena smiled and raised her shoulders in a "who, me?" shrug, pretending that the thought hadn't crossed her mind within the first thirty seconds of them walking through the door.

 

Josett: Don't be a stranger.

 

The door opened and closed behind Zeron as he left. Bear found his perch again on the edge of a table and reflected on the last few hours since they'd left the diner. If they had to stay overnight, they couldn't stay there. Maybe there was somewhere in the docks, or Chris could swing them something in favour with the administration. He scratched his cheek and looked up, blue eyes following Lena. She winked at him, strolled over to the computer and — out of sight of the surveillance cameras she had scoped out earlier — slapped a small device on its side. 

 

Beside the sofa, Chris ran the dermal regenerator over Valesha's cheek, the glass slice knitting back together, fibres of her skin reaching and connecting once more, light stimulating the growth of olive skin. His hand dropped to her knee and squeezed it gently, and she covered it with her own while he spoke up to the room. 

 

Johns: So, is this guy on the level or are we waiting to get murdered by a group of angry Syndicate goons?

 

Josett: He's working for the Marshals — one L, not two — and an old friend of Bear's.

 

She chuckled, subtle emphasis on the word, laughing at a joke she didn't share with the Romulan and Russian. The device she'd attached to the computer lit up, indicator lights flashing and flickering away, and she dropped herself into the chair Zeron had vacated. Like a punch in the gut, Bear suppressed the feeling rolling like thunder, a shiver fluttering up, and rolled his shoulders back. The plucky little Bajoran kid he’d known back on Volan III had wound up in the Shoals and joined the CCMS and still found it funny to shoot him in the junk.

 

O. Marshall: What the Shoals gets for being in spitting distance of Bajor. ::He pointed a finger to Lena’s device, then an eyebrow [...]ed to his partner in crime.:: And that is?

 

Josett: Me, raiding the computer. ::Digging in her back pocket, she pulled out a PADD and started tapping at the screen, tilting the chair back to deposit her boots on the desk with a heavy thud.:: Did zh’Rharia mention why she wanted Bear?

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis

Science Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

Lieutenant Orson Marshall

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

 

&

 

Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

PO First-Class Christopher Johns

Operations Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

 

&

 

Zeron Cullo

Colonial Coalition Marshals Service

Centennial City

G239304JM0

Link to comment

[JP] Lt. Sienelis, Lt. Marshall, Lt. JG Josett, & PO Johns - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part III)

((Safehouse, Centennial City, Ketar V))

 

Johns: I wasn’t paying that much attention to the questions with a Hupyrian hand around my neck. ::He ran his thumb over Valesha’s cheek, skin becoming one again as flakes of dried green blood came away.:: But as far as I remember, she didn’t say.

 

Sienelis: Her business associates want him. That's all she would tell us.

 

The relative safety of the CCMS office and comfort of the sofa dampened Valesha's earlier fire. She offered Chris a crooked smile, sending a thud through his heart, performed the obligatory prod to her recently healed wound, and slipped the dermal regenerator from his hand. One finger under his chin, she brought the device to the bruises on his neck. What felt like a raging heartbeat had quietened now they were away from the threats imposed, and Chris lifted his jaw for Valesha's access. He swallowed, his throat bobbing with the movement, the small stretch a little painful. 

 

Johns: Assuming those business associates are Syndicate. Again. Wouldn't be the first time. Doubt it’ll be the last. ::Bear glared as Chris glanced over, as far as he could, to the seated Lena.:: Anything about him in the CCMS information?

 

Josett: Nothing that we don't already know about. Except this mention of Mnei Kreh?

 

Valesha's gaze snapped toward the pirate, pausing in her ministrations. Then she glanced toward Bear, a frown knitting her eyebrows together in the middle. He stood up from his leaning post, stomach sinking delightfully. In the waning hours of their time on the Labyrinth's Scream, when revelations about his true employers had arrived coated in a fine dusting of red pollen, they’d heard the name.

 

Sienelis: They're Romulan. ::She paused, returning to the matter of Chris' bruised neck with a growing frown.:: I suppose you could call them our version of the Syndicate.

 

Chris swallowed again, his hand lifted to touch Valesha’s forearm attached to the hand repairing him, finding some part of her to hold on to. Fear seeded into his guts. Opposite, a stony expression set on Bear’s features as he looked from Romulan to Russian to hybrid; the look of a man chewing a rather fragrant variety of wasp. His arms clamped down, crossed over his chest like a portcullis, and somehow his shoulders got slightly broader. 

 

O. Marshall: And we’re here, walking into a Romulan-sized trap set by the Romulan Syndicate. Great. Just… just great. ::He ran a hand over his face and beard, before his jaw set as he looked pointedly to Valesha.:: You’re going back to the yacht. 

 

Sienelis: You can— ::She pressed her lips together, biting off the rest of the curse, knuckles white on the regenerator.:: I didn't come all this way to hide in a shuttle. And it's your name on their list, anyway.

 

O. Marshall: It’s a yacht, not a shuttle. ::Familiar words he’d heard somewhere before.:: If I’m on a Romulan list, despite having no prior Romulan connections aside from you, don’t you think you would be too?

 

Sienelis: No, since they had me and didn't want me. Romulan spy-slash-starship-thief was not on their shopping list.

 

O. Marshall: They might only be looking for me, whereas there’s a hundred others in this city who could be looking for you, so I’d rather box clever and not wait for the next lot of Romulan poison!

 

 

((A few minutes later...))
 

In a display that would put a vigorous game of parrises squares to shame, Bear and Valesha were still arguing back and forth over who was going back to the shuttle and why. With Chris' bruises healed, the Romulan was on her feet now, stalking back and forth, agitation in motion, while Bear stood there, arms crossed, the mountain that would not move, now and then slamming the edge of his hand into the palm of his other to punctuate a point.

 

Computing mischief managed, Lena dropped herself onto the couch next to Chris, pouring him another glass of rum from the bottle she had replicated. Chris accepted gladly and swallowed a mouthful in a second, transfixed by the display.

 

Josett: They'll wear themselves out in a little while.

 

Johns: It’s quite sweet, really. They’re the worst siblings they never had. ::He shook his head, another mouthful of rum going down nicely.:: I used to watch my brother and sister argue like that. Eventually one of them would pick up the corkscrew while the other went for a phaser. 

 

She poured him another, grinning, and then topped up her own glass. At least the pair were providing some entertainment while they all waited for the Bajoran agent to return from whatever it was he was doing. With the boiling tensions and the tiny room, Lena had been quite certain it was the Russian and Bear who would come to blows, but life was full of little surprises.

 

Josett: Your family life sounds suspiciously like my pirate life.

 

Johns: All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. Pirate or Russian. ::He felt for the back of his neck, the bruises fading but the dull ache remaining all the same.:: When should we tell them there’s no going back for the yacht until tomorrow, anyway?

 

Josett: When the corkscrew comes out. ::She took a swig of her rum and reconsidered.:: Maybe about thirty seconds after, after we've got a sense of who'd win that duel.

 

Johns: If the day ever comes when they would actually stab each other, old-style Satan will sip vodka and ice in his snowplough. ::Speaking of, he crunched through an ice cube as Bear got the finger out, resorting to pointing at some distant yacht.:: This is it. This is our life. 

 

Josett: It's a good thing they're both so easy on the eye. 

 

She grinned at him and finished her glass, offering him a top-up, the Russian accepting gladly with a clink of knocking glasses. 

 

Johns: There is that. 

 

 

((A few minutes later still...))

 

Sienelis: What do you mean we can't go back for it until tomorrow?

 

O. Marshall: Are you [...]ting me, Russian?

 

The dark brows of said Russian furrowed as he looked at them both, first to Bear with a despairing expression and a shake of his head, then to Valesha, said expression softening. She looked back at him, fire in her eyes, almost vibrating with frustration.

 

Johns: Between here and Opportunity, there’s a valley. Tonight, the valley will be a toxic mix of carbon dioxide and pockets of sulfuric acid clouds from the Lakosha fire river. Winds are blowing westward. We stay tonight. It should have blown into the mountain range come morning. 

 

Josett: Emphasis on "should". ::She sipped from her glass and pointed a finger toward the two.:: It's not an exact science on this planet.

 

She smiled cheerfully at the pair, with reckless disregard for their sour humours, and stretched out with all the languid indifference of a cat. As expected, that did little to soothe Valesha's mood and she glowered at the hybrid, her fingers curling and flexing as she tried, and failed, to find the words to fully convey her thoughts.

 

O. Marshall: When exactly were you going to communicate this vital piece of vital information?

 

Chris blinked at the blond for a moment, as though trying to decide what kind of murder would pip the post given the situation. With a deep-seated sigh radiating from somewhere around the year he’d met him, he tongued his cheek and dropped his hand back down.

 

Johns: Did you not read the weather report?

 

Josett: Rookie mistake. 

 

Bear looked to his recumbent pirate, attitude not helping the situation and not designed to, either. Valesha blew out a pent-up sigh and he threw his hands up and stalked off for the space of a few paces, hands on his hips, beard ruffled. 

 

O. Marshall: So, we really do need to find somewhere to stay tonight. 

 

Josett: Looks that way. Which means we have to decide whether to figure it out ourselves or trust your friend with a very specific aim.

 

O. Marshall: He’d know safe places, and I doubt he’s going to want four Starfleet officers sleeping on his floor at home. ::Scratching his fingers into his beard, his blue eyes dropped to the Romulan.:: Did your research into Little Ki Baratan yield anything like that?

 

Sienelis: Places to stay, yes. Places that are criminal syndicate proof, not so much. ::She lifted her shoulders in a jerk of shrug, her temper still bubbling underneath.:: I didn't expect any of this.

 

O. Marshall: What did you expect? ::The blond’s temper cracked like the snap of a flare; the argument doing nothing to quell that inward momentum, to shout and grit.:: He’s been here for a decade, keeping one eye on his [...]. He won’t appear just because another Romulan is looking for him. 

 

An earthquake triggering a tsunami, Bear's burst of anger reignited Valesha's, bringing it back to the surface. She rounded on him and he took an involuntary step back. 

 

Sienelis: I expected a hard time finding him because he's one Romulan among thousands, not a hard time finding him because we're fending off the people you [...]ed off over the years!

Beside Chris, Lena sank down on the couch with a wry grin. It was at this point she abandoned any attempt at propriety and quaffed straight from the bottle. 

 

Josett: And they're off again.

 

Johns: It’s almost like they needed this. 

 

The bearded Russian snagged the bottle from Lena’s grip and took a swig himself before handing it back to her as both watched the impending shuttle crash taking place. 

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis

Science Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

Lieutenant Orson Marshall

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

 

&

 

Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

PO First-Class Christopher Johns

Operations Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

Link to comment

[JP] Lt. Sienelis, Lt. Marshall, Lt. JG Josett, PO Johns & Cullo - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part IV)

((A little while later: Safehouse, Centennial City, Ketar V))

 

Sweeping up broken glass from the floor into a dustpan, Chris dumped the clinking bottle into the replicator. Bear had slunk off to one corner, cradling the bridge of his nose in his thumb and finger, maybe trying to work out where he’d gone wrong along the line to end up there, stuck in a room with beeping machines, one replicator, and no escape. Valesha was scowling in the opposite corner, staring at the PADD in her hand, seeing nothing on its screen. 

 

With a shush, the door/wall retracted, and Zeron appeared, looking as much of a drowned rat as he had before, only with less of a frown. 

 

Cullo: Used the time effectively, I see. 

 

Working her way through a jumbo-sized hasperat, Lena offered the man a lazy wave from the couch, as comfortable as she would be in her own home. If she had one. She was, perhaps, the only one of the four in a good mood — though that was hardly a surprise to anyone who knew her. Life was too short for sourness and anger, squash it down, blot it out, bury it under layers of cheerfulness and merriment.

 

Fake it 'til you make it. Or put it so far in your rear view it doesn't matter anymore.

 

Josett: And the replicator. How about you?

 

Cullo: Progress, ::he stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it around, loosening some rainwater,:: of a sort. Got your transport to Little Ki Baratan. You can thank me later. 

 

Josett: We need somewhere to stay, too. ::She took another bite of the hasperat, chewing thoughtfully, her next words muffled by spicy Bajoran deliciousness.:: Somewhere low-key where no one will take any notice.

 

On Ketar V, it never rained, it poured. Ruffling his hand through his damp hair, Zeron nodded with a sigh and the return of his handkerchief from his pocket. A blow of the nose echoed like a foghorn, loose at dawn, or cannon fire from the castle walls. 

 

Cullo: You’d have a time finding somewhere high-key. Somewhere that takes Romulans anyway. ::He cleared his throat as he looked to Valesha with a slight shrug of the shoulders.:: No offence.

 

Valesha didn't lift her gaze from the PADD and simply shook her head, though whether she was in despair or dismissing any offence was unclear. Either way, Lena considered it an improvement from the volcano the Romulan had earlier been impersonating and turned back to Zeron.

 

Josett: No spa night, then. ::She sighed.:: Well, as long as there's a bed and some rum I'll make do.

 

Cullo: There’s a small place on the outskirts, Iuruth in the name, but I can’t pronounce the rest. I’ve sent word to a contact there, you’ll be on your way shortly. ::He glanced to Bear and coughed.:: Don’t take this the wrong way, but the sooner you’re gone from here, the better.

 

Torpidity sewn into his gait, Bear had crossed the room like a huge blond ghost, dropping onto the sofa beside Lena, and with the deft action that might get a lesser man killed, stole the giant hasperat from his wife’s hands. She batted him in the stomach with the back of her hand, grinned, and left the crime otherwise unpunished.

 

O. Marshall: None of your CCMS bull?

 

Zeron raised his hands up, half in surrender, half in placation. 

 

Cullo: I pick my battles these days. 

 

Josett: That's the plan, then. Get there, get some rest, start again in the morning. 

 

Chris nodded, letting the quiet seep into his shoulders. Hazel eyes looked over to Valesha, the reason they were there in the palpable weight of the moment. He felt useless there, a liability more than anything, racking his brain for something he could do. If the family had anything on the planet, it was in Opportunity; wealth feeding the modern building work and regeneration. 

 

Johns: If he’s here, we’ll find him. He’s got to be somewhere on this planet, right?

 

Sienelis: Yeah. ::Voice flat, she looked up from her PADD and jammed it back into her pocket.:: Somehow. ::She frowned again, having difficulty meeting anyone's eyes.:: Let's just get to Hotel Unpronounceable. Maybe this will look different in the morning.

 

Cullo: Maybe. ::He nodded and slipped his hand into his pocket, drew out a small sliver of a chip and tossed it toward the Romulan with the catlike reflexes.:: That didn’t come from me, you got that?

 

She snatched it out of the air, turning it over in her fingers, and looked toward the Bajoran with a guarded frown. Expending her pent-up frustrations on the argument with Bear hadn't made her feel any better. Rather, she felt worse: tired and heartsore, wanting to make amends and too proud to do so.

 

Sienelis: What is it?

 

Cullo: Secure communication chip. It’s got limited range, but once you’re in Baratan, it’ll shield a device from any lurking Mnei Kreh transmissions and create a secure channel. The same kind of new technology we’re developing with Starfleet to make communicating out of the Shoals easier. ::He inhaled, this time without the orchestra of nasal noises.:: I’ve sent word out to contacts I’ve got. If Taeval is in Baratan, he’ll likely want to contact you on that channel.

 

The Romulan's frown deepened, her heart beating a tattoo against her ribs, and she glanced up from the chip toward Zeron. It was vague, but at the same time, it was something. Something more than they'd had that morning. Closer than she'd ever been before.

 

Sienelis: You think we have a chance to find him?

 

Cullo: I think you’ve got a good shot, ::he scratched the side of his nose,:: if you are who you say you are. 

 

Fingers curling around the chip, she was momentarily at a loss for how to respond. Even a hint of accusation that she wasn't who she claimed to be was usually met with annoyance, but her mind was too filled with possibilities to make room for it in that moment. Valesha took a breath, trying to silence the swarm in her head, and nodded towards the Bajoran, her voice quiet.

 

Sienelis: Thank you.

 

Zeron nodded, his smile a little thicker than it had been since delivering an energy bolt to Bear's junk, but there nonetheless. Maybe it was the act of doing something good in a city that didn't let him most of the time. Either way, his eyes fell on the rum bottle and shards remaining on the floor Chris hadn’t managed to get rid of, his jaw shifting to one side as he fumbled in his pocket for the vaporizer. 

 

Cullo: You’re welcome. Now, ::with a sigh, he pressed the control for the door,:: go or you’ll miss your transport. And try not to look too… touristy?

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis

Science Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

Lieutenant Orson Marshall

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

 

&

 

Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

PO First-Class Christopher Johns

Operations Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

 

&

 

Zeron Cullo

Colonial Coalition Marshals Service

Centennial City

G239304JM0

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[JP] Lt. Sienelis, Lt. Marshall, Lt. JG Josett, & PO Johns - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part V)

((Little Ki Baratan, Centennial City, Ketar V))

 

The shuttlecraft set down in the plaza and as the team stepped off into the Romulan centralised town, it took Chris a moment to shake off the preconceptions he’d acquired about the supposed once-ghetto in the middle of Centennial City. Reports they’d read in the depth of Valesha’s quarters while wrapped up in one another had spoken of the grim cultural shift there; of refugees huddled in blankets, of the impoverished people fighting to get by somewhere far-flung from home. 

 

Instead, it looked like a plaza found in any flourishing city centre. Several shops lined the street, their fronts darkened in the late hour and bouncing rain. Signs stuck out of the ground pointing the way to various local points of interest and holographic adverts tailoring to whoever walked past. Benches arranged in a circle around a central pillar of carved stone. Flowers and plants sprung from bedded boxes all around, and the plaza itself was a mosaic of a large bird, Romulan words in the ceramic around it. 

 

Tilting his head, Chris took a second to read it, and failing, he looked over his shoulder for his partner, awash with a curious smile.

 

Johns: Vee, check this out.

 

A blossom held between her fingers, an indigo flower capturing her attention. She hadn't seen one in a decade, where they'd once bloomed in the gardens her brother so diligently tended. Valesha let the i'kareik slip-free, the petals soft against her skin, and took a few steps toward her partner to stand beside him. Mossy eyes roved over the inscription, an ache rippling out from her heart with every beat.

 

Sienelis: "For they still live, as we speak their names."

 

Johns: Cuts to the heart of it. ::A soft rumble in his chest saw him quietly reach for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze of fingers and palms.:: It couldn’t be more different from the last one we saw, dream or not.

 

Years ago, in the middle of a Lladre-induced dream of the refugee vessel, Valesha and her mother had escaped on. Someone had written across one of the walls “ch'Rihan, bed aoi” — Goodbye forever, Romulus. This was a message of hope and remembrance, not one of pain and despair. She nodded slowly, and her answer was muted and quiet.

 

Sienelis: Hard to believe it's already been ten years.

 

Chris nodded slowly, recalling where he was ten years ago while Valesha fought for life, encountering the worst the universe could throw at someone. His thumb ran over the back of hers, rainwater making olive skin slick and warm, and with a roll of distant thunder in his chest, he looked to her. 

 

Johns: Are you happy?

 

Her expression twitched as she looked at the memorial, her gaze sliding away and toward him before she turned her head. She exhaled a huff of air, dry amusement woven into the sound. 

 

Sienelis: This is a very odd time to ask that question. 

 

O. Marshall: That usually means “no”. Anyway, quit that, and look at this. 

 

The mountain moved between them, breaking joined hands and shoving a small PADD device in Valesha’s hand; the grid map of their location and the way forward. Chris bit his lip, the annoying grin ticking up one corner of his mouth. He shook his head and shouldered Bear as he stepped away, leaving them to their map reading. 

 

O. Marshall: A place called Iuruth Heieun is what we’re looking for. 

 

Valesha: A ranger who can't read a map. Tragic, really.

 

O. Marshall: What’s crawled up your backside and died?

 

Lifting her hand and opening her palm to the sky, Valesha swept it down in the general direction of the blond human. Her silent answer punctuated with a pointed look, she dropped her head to consult the map of the district. Bear rolled his eyes and huddled into his coat. He looked around for Lena, squinting through the haze of the rain to a group of Romulans beneath an overhang to a bar, the end of a vaporizer lighting up, tendrils of smoke disappearing into the rain. 

 

O. Marshall: Any time like the present, safecracker.

 

Sienelis: One day I'll meet someone who acknowledges me as a scientist.

 

She frowned, smacking the PADD — gently — into the middle of Bear's chest. She was never sure what bothered her the most; the stereotype that Romulans were always up to no good, or the idea that maybe her scientific discoveries weren't worth half as much as she thought. The Romulan nodded over his shoulder, signposting their destination. 

 

Sienelis: It's about half a kilometre that way, on the corner of a block.

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis

Science Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

Lieutenant Orson Marshall

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

 

&

 

Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

PO First-Class Christopher Johns

Operations Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

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[JP] Cullo & Taeval - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part VI)

((Meanwhile: Livernois Shipyards, Ketar V))

 

Rain hissed in the torrential downpour as Zeron looked out from the alleyway, his shoulder against the wall. Mind on other things. Andorian members of their Syndicate house there in the docks stalked through the streets, hoping to pick up the trail left behind by the four 'Fleeters now on their way out of dodge. Little Ki Baratan wasn't the safest of places to be, but it was safer than within the reaches of zh'Rharia and her Andorian junkies. The Tellarite's tooth was still there on the concrete. Wet and glistening under the neon lights. 

 

He rubbed his eyes, dry with the rain, aching with the lack of sleep. The docks never slept, so neither did he. 

 

The soft slap of boots on the wet floor caught his ears, though he didn't turn around. 

 

Cullo: The Vulcan turned out to be a Romulan. Says she's your sister. 

 

The comment landed on the new arrival as gently as the blow responsible for the tooth shining on the pavement. Footsteps stopped, and the silence stretched out, until the green-eyed Romulan swallowed, forcing himself to move into Zeron's eye line. 

 

Taeval: My sister's dead.

 

His quiet voice was flat, but a note of doubt — or perhaps it was hope — wove its way through the words. Ten years he'd spent trying to find out what happened to her, trying to convince himself she was but one of the uncountable billions who'd perished and to let her go. Never quite succeeding in either attempt, caught in the no-man's-land in between.

 

Cullo: For someone who isn’t your sister, she knows a lot about you. Rhymed off your name like it was second nature, even the weird inflexion around the middle bit. ::From his pointed stare across the street at the Andorian trio walking by, he looked to Taeval.:: Starfleet, too. 

 

A soft exhale escaped the Romulan, a sound trying to be a laugh but not quite achieving its goal. A Starfleet officer? It was so ridiculous it beggared belief... and yet somehow that made it more believable. Anyone pretending to be his sister would surely pick a more plausible cover story.

 

Taeval: You didn't get a picture, did you?

 

Cullo: Only what I could get from the holoimagers in the safehouse. 

 

He fished inside his jacket for a second, pulling out the small personal device with a glossy coated screen. A press of the thumb lit it up, the continuous playback of a moment captured in the safehouse. Reported Romulan sister running a dermal regenerator over the bearded Russian’s neck, the blond Bear with his arms folded perching on the edge of a desk while the former pirate did her best to evade every imaging device he had installed in there. 

 

Taeval stared at the screen, his eyes only for the Romulan in the picture, not a thought spared for the rest of the quartet. His throat bobbed with another swallow, knuckles white with a tightened grip, and his heart lurched inside his chest.

 

Taeval: That looks like her. ::He shook his head, unable to get his thoughts in order.:: What did she say?

 

Cullo: That she’s here looking for you. ::He sniffed hard, the white of the condition in his ridges wiped on the back of his sleeve, and popped a pill from the bottle his friend had given him earlier.:: Why else would Starfleet be here? They haven't touched down since the tenement fires. 

 

The Romulan shook his head. Starfleet — the Federation as a whole — came across as a well-meaning but absent and somewhat disinterested parent. Someone who occasionally stopped by to hand out a few gifts, deliver some lectures about equality and understanding, then zipped off without ever stopping to see if the schoolyard bullies had paid attention.

 

Taeval: Yes, I remember. The Marshals burnt the building down and then Starfleet helped them arrest half the people who survived it.

 

He raised his eyebrows toward Cullo, an exhausted sort of amusement flickering across a face too young to be as world weary as it was. He'd lost his apartment in that fire, a second home consumed by flames, forced to rebuild his life once again. The ghost of a smile fell away at the thought if this was all true. His sister was a part of that, and his gaze dropped back down to the PADD bearing her image.

 

Cullo: The Marshals are good like that. Why have a perfectly decent tenement building when you can have a burnt-out husk of a shell instead? Maybe they were trying to conjure the Romulan version of pseudoscientific geomancy. 

 

Leaving the PADD in Taeval’s hands, Zeron rooted inside his jacket again, this time producing the vaporizer, and took a moment to surround the two in jumba-tinted smoke, dissipated swiftly by the falling rain. He watched his young Romulan friend for a moment; the recognition blooming in eyes usually so downcast, and a decade’s worth of false belief beginning to shed. 

 

Cullo: Keep hold of it. I’ve given her the other one. ::He sniffed hard, fruit scent slipping through his nasal cavities.:: It’s a secure transmission line. When you want, send a message, figure out if she is who she says she is.

 

The Romulan glanced back up, rain trickling his face as he heaved in a deep breath. He looked like the lost boy he'd been ten years ago, forced away from his home and trying to survive in strange lands. Eventually, he nodded, and with a last glance at the image on the PADD, tucked it away inside his heavy coat.

 

Taeval: Thanks, Zeron. ::He paused, trying to corral his thoughts.:: Do you know where she is now?

 

Cullo: Circumstances made it easy to slip her out of Livernois. She’s on her way to Romulan Town. ::A wave of harder rain passed overhead, drumming on the pavement.:: They’ll be holed up overnight at Iuruth Heieun.::He took a second to drag air through the vaporizer and puff out the smoke.:: She’s resourceful, isn’t she?

 

Taeval: She's stubborn. ::A wisp of a laugh escaped his lungs.:: Once she's set on something, it's hard to pull her off course.

 

Cullo: I believe it. ::He shook his head, wiping away a drop of rainwater from his lower lip.:: I’ve got half an hour of footage of an argument she had with one of her friends. 

 

Popping up his collar and huddling further into the coat, Zeron pointed with the mouthpiece end toward Taeval and flicked his eyes up to the Andorian haunt across the street. The neon lights never turned off, flashing away with the advertised sign for the Explosive Decompression Bar — a jaunty sign of a cartoon technician decompressing and exploding, somehow made funny.

 

Cullo: The Volna Viria wanted one of them and I haven’t found out why yet, so keep your eyes sharp. If I find out anything more, I’ll let you know. ::He sniffled, dabbed at his nose, the dribble of white clear under the ridges.:: She looks like you, it’s all around the eyes. 

 

Taeval: We have our mother's eyes. 

 

So some said. Others argued it was their father who influenced that part of their looks, but the twins had both preferred to think they took after their ri'ranov. The thought of their father carved a small trench between the young man's eyebrows, wondering if this was all one of his elaborate schemes. But he struggled to imagine Valesha going along with that, his sister railing against every aspect of their father's plans for them.

 

Taeval: She seems to have convinced you.

 

Cullo: She seems genuine. ::A swift blow of his nose and the handkerchief disappeared into his inner pocket.:: When you’ve seen enough refugees, you get used to the ones with the broken hearts. 

 

First the Bajoran orphans and refugees from occupied colony worlds through the DMZ, then the refugees from a destroyed Romulus. Centennial City traded in sadness like a currency; Zeron couldn’t deny it would’ve been nice to ease some of it, for once. 

 

Cullo: And, as I said, she looks like you. ::His lips twitched in a small amused grin.:: Hard enough walking around with a face like yours to have two of you to look at. 

 

Taeval: And Kalora told me that tall, dark and brooding is a good look. ::He smiled back, muted and wry.:: I shall have to have words.

 

Cullo: For you Romulans, it’s like the default setting. How is Kalora?

 

Taeval hesitated before answering, trying to choose the kindest words for what he wanted to say. He was fond of the Bajoran woman, liked her as a friend and appreciated what she'd done for him and his people. But for a while, she'd been pursuing something the Romulan didn't have to offer.

 

Taeval: She's well. She's seeing Emel now, which... ::he paused again,:: ...means she's a little less concerned with healing my wounded soul.

 

Cullo: Delicately put. Diplomatic, even. 

 

The trill of a small alarm sounded from inside his jacket, and Zeron slipped his hand to the inner pocket, retrieving the thin metal device. A flashing light, coloured in a light cobalt blue, and a message in Bajoran script. He cursed in his homeworld language and shook his head. 

 

Cullo: Atomo is like a whirlwind, gets bigger every damn day. ::He sniffed and ran a hand through his damp hair, shaking out some of the rainwater.:: Naixi asking if you’re joining us for dinner, but I’m assuming you’ve got bigger plans to sort out. 

 

Taeval: It does seem that way. ::He nodded, his expression tightening once more.:: Thank you, again. I'll let you know what happens.

 

The Bajoran nodded, slipping the vaporizer back into his coat and preparing to leave. Just before he did, he levelled a finger to Taeval and patted the Romulan’s lapel with the back of his fingers. 

 

Cullo: You get into trouble, you call me. Life and death, lorat

 

Taeval: Ah lorat. I'll be careful. ::He summoned that small smile again.:: Go give your whirlwind a hug from me.

 

Satisfied he’d done all he could, Zeron ruffled the Romulan’s dark hair and said his goodbyes silently, lest the young brother tear up. With a last look over his shoulder to the Andorian syndicate bar and a deep breath of the alleyway air, he left Taeval to his future. 

 

 

TBC

 

--

Zeron Cullo
Colonial Coalition Marshals Service
Centennial City

G239304JM0

 

&

 

Taeval tr'Sienelis

Refugee

Centennial City

T238401QR0

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[JP] Lt. Marshall & Lt. JG Josett - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part VII)

((Iuruth Heieun, Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V))

 

The street glittered in the recently celebrated festival of the farmer’s — Eitreih'hveinn — strung in lanterns and lights flickering under the haze of the rain. The unassuming building sat in the middle of the main street of the Romulan town; the large sign outside an ode to a small settlement on Romulus in the striking letters, brushstrokes on a clear window. Adopted from the refugee administration building, it blended into the thoroughfare; somewhere safe to stay, take stock, and somewhere central to start their search from in the morning. 

 

Handed the keys for their rooms on the upper floor, adjacent to one another in case of issues, the two couples parted ways for the evening and slipped into the small rooms with large windows overlooking the street below. The hotel's interior wasn't gloomy or foreboding, rather it was clean and modern; ivory walls, a grey carpet, charcoal curtains and minimalist furniture. But there were splashes of vibrancy, nods to Romulan passion and appreciation for beauty: pale pink flowers bloomed in an angled vase; a glowing pyramid of geometric colours doubled as a light atop the dresser; and an abstract, a metallic sculpture shimmered on the wall, its shifting colours bringing to mind the iridescent wings of an insect.

 

Lena pulled off her jacket as soon as they were through the door, her boots following shortly thereafter, tossed aside on her short journey toward the window. Her jacket landed on the dresser with a thud, tool and toys and recently acquired disruptor heavy in her pockets, and the hybrid peered out into the rain-swamped streets. Sharp amber eyes roved over the buildings and alleyways that surrounded the corner hotel, canny and assessing.

 

Josett: What a day. ::She threw a grin over her shoulder.:: But at least it's been interesting. I was expecting to spend our time yawning our way through records and databases.

 

O. Marshall: That would rely on the CCMS keeping accurate records of anything beyond how much navel fluff comes out on the last finger expedition. 

 

Following suit and grinning back at his wife with a flicker of a blond eyebrow, Bear chucked his jacket onto a nearby chair, while the Ranger in him did a sweep of the place — checking behind doorways, into the bathroom, opening the closet, under the bed — until satisfied no Tal Shiar assassins lurked in wait. He’d had enough of fending them off for one lifetime, even if Valesha was a mere shout through the wall to come and break some bones once more. 

 

O. Marshall: Colour me surprised you didn’t snag a bottle of rum from Zeron’s replicator for the night. 

 

Josett: High risk of it becoming a projectile, the way you two were going at it.

 

She chuckled, heading over to her jacked and fishing out her PADD and a couple of small devices from its physics-defying pockets, dropping her rump onto the bed. Conceding the point, Bear leaned his shoulder against the window frame and looked outside, the rain creating a wall of shimmering vivid water on the glass, the street below like a river of technicolour. 

 

O. Marshall: Like I’m supposed to know who exactly in the long line of people vying for my throat put some latinum down on it. 

 

Josett: The perils of being popular with the wrong crowd. ::She grinned, tapping at the PADD, and then darted a glance toward him.:: You all right?

 

O. Marshall: I’m fine. 

 

The answer was quick, off the cuff, almost like an automatic response, and it made her chuckle again. Fingers found his hair, blond strands sticking up in various directions as his bottom lip disappeared between his teeth. Steel blue focused on the street below. Looking for Andorian antennae, maybe. Watching for the flash of a red target pin. He took a breath, beard rustling as his hand braced against the window frame. 

 

O. Marshall: It’s easier when you know who's looking for you. I’d rather you weren’t caught in the crossfire. 

 

Josett: I'm enjoying the novelty. Normally people are aiming straight at me. ::The soft light of the room glittered against the silver in her palm.:: Here, catch. 

 

Giving him a moment to react, she tossed one of her devices through the air. It looked like someone had taken a child's set of tiny building blocks and jammed them together in a random shape, mismatched and misshapen. Like most of the tech stowed in her pockets, it was unique to Lena, and its purpose impossible to divine from appearance alone.

 

Josett: Tuck that under the sill.

 

Catching it, Bear sent a quizzical eyebrow Lena’s way, turning the small device around in his hand. It didn’t stop him from doing as requested; dropping to a knee and slipping it beneath the windowsill.  

 

O. Marshall: There are easier methods of divorce than having me assassinated, you know. 

 

Josett: But are they as much fun?

 

O. Marshall: Not by a long shot. 

 

She laughed again, twin glimmers of affection and amusement duelling in her eyes. Hoisting up a trouser leg, she slipped a phaser from a calf holster and slid it under a pillow. That done, the hybrid drew her legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Beneath that curated demeanour of carefree mirth, concern had been slowly twisting a knife through her gut all day.

 

Josett: How worried are you?

 

Slipping his hands into his pockets, Bear turned to his side to watch his pirate — curled dark hair, beautiful amber eyes, and blend of her species’ ridges in gorgeous skin — leaning his shoulder against the window frame. He felt a gentle thrum run through his heart for the sight of her and his lips twitched, unable to prevent the need to play off his weakness as a strength. 

 

O. Marshall: That you want to divorce me or assassinate me? I can’t say I like either prospect. 

 

Josett: Why would you? A life without me would be unbearably dull. ::She grinned.:: I don't know how you got through your days before I came along.

 

O. Marshall: Sometimes neither do I. 

 

A rare moment of sincerity and tenderness lit up in a warm blue gaze, for the space of an inhale before Bear looked out into the street, dark of the night beginning to creep in through a setting sun casting bronze over the rain-soaked Romulan facades. Heavy shoulders weighed down the broad blond, and a hand reached for the back of his neck. 

 

O. Marshall: The Syndicate recruited me from the Shoals, so I can’t help wondering if this is a vendetta for wrecking their Romulan Empire racket. 

 

Josett: It makes sense. You're here and they want payback, but they weren't expecting you, so it's rushed and clumsy. ::The ridges above her eyes began to knit in a frown, until she made a deliberate effort to smooth it away, replacing it with a wry lift of her brow.:: Next time it won't be some half-baked attempt to snatch you off the street.

 

O. Marshall: Easy enough to blame it on a mishap, out from under the eyes of Starfleet. Caught in the crossfire of rival factions. Wrong place at the wrong time. 

 

Pushing off the window frame, he traced a lazy path with a lazier gait to the foot of the bed, fingers toying with his comm badge in his pocket. From beneath the grizzly exterior of a man used to doing things on his own, affection swam deep in blue, and he paused for a heartbeat before his low tenor continued. 

 

O. Marshall: I’m glad you’re here. 

 

Lena looked at him for a moment, the unexpected candour robbing her of the usual quick joke she'd usually fire back in response. Her heart thumped in her chest, a charge crackled behind her ribs, and a hint of uncertainty ghosted around the edges of her eternal grin. The earth was shifting under her feet, and the hybrid wasn't entirely sure what to do about it.

 

Josett: Wouldn't miss it. ::The sparkle rushed back into her smile, mischief in her eyes.:: Some things are better as a team sport.

 

O. Marshall: I’ve always been partial to one-on-one contact athletics if we’re being honest. 

 

Demonstrating thusly, with a puckish grin and equal measures of smart [...], Bear pushed back on her shoulder with one hand while tugging her exposed foot toward him with the other. She laughed and fell backwards on the bed, offering no resistance, returned to familiar territory. Losing herself in another person, letting the physical sweep away troublesome thoughts and unfamiliar tremors of the heart.

 

Josett: When you find something you're good at...

 

O. Marshall: ... keep doing it until one of you taps out?

 

Josett: I'm game if you are.

 

With a sly grin, she slid her other leg around the back of his, pulling at the back of his knee, removing the support and down he went, in a tangle of limbs and laughs.

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Orson Marshall

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

 

&

 

Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

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[JP] Lt. Sienelis & PO Johns - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part VIII)

((Meanwhile, Next Door: Iuruth Heieun, Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V))

 

Valesha stepped out of the tiny bathroom, damp clinging to her skin, hair in freshly washed disarray, wrapped in a thin towel. A preoccupied frown etched onto her brow, she left a trail of wet footprints on the carpet when she crossed the room, heading straight for her PADD. She met the blank screen with an impatient, frustrated huff, checking that Zeron's communications chip was properly seated and working inside it.

 

It was.

 

How long did they wait?  Should they keep looking in the meantime? How would they know if they hadn't found him, or he wasn't here to be found? A host of questions she should have asked the Bajoran marched through her thoughts, and now she had no one who could provide the answers. With a soft thump, the impact billowing through the bed coverings; she sat down and let that frown carve even deeper. 

 

Sienelis: I have no idea how I'm going to sleep tonight.

 

Johns: Terribly springs to mind. 

 

Her partner sat further up the bed with his back against the headboard, one leg stretched out in front of him and the other knee raised up. The flickering glossy screen of a PADD leaned against it. He’d showered first if only to ensure said shower wouldn’t start spewing toxic flower dust in some secret agent holonovel style booby trap, and one oiled beard later took up residence on the bed. 

 

Like it was second nature to do it without thinking, Chris stroked her seated hip with the top of his foot and looked up from whatever had captured his attention during Valesha’s shower. 

 

Johns: What’s pirouetting beneath those ridges?

 

Sienelis: Bear. 

 

Valesha shook her head in reply, drawing in another deep breath and exhaling heavily. She hated to admit the blond annoyance had occupied a large portion of her thoughts since they'd left Zeron's safe house. It was his past that had first thrown them together, forged the foundations of their peculiar friendship, but she hadn't ever imagined they'd collide with it again during the search for her brother.

 

Sienelis: I didn't expect this to be quick or easy, but now it's complicated. The longer we're here, the bigger the risk is for him.

 

The Russian’s brow twitched downwards, turning slowly into a frown. An undeniable fact, considering the chokehold the Hypurian had wrought over his neck in pursuit of information about the former Ranger. But there were only so many words Chris had to explain how much he didn't care. The only drawback was Valesha did, so by extension, what she cared about, Chris did. A wonderful Catch 22. 

 

Johns: He is an adult, you know. If he’s got himself into trouble along the line, that’s his problem. Not yours. 

 

Sienelis: Except he's only here because I am. 

 

Johns: That doesn’t make you responsible for him.

 

Sienelis: Right. ::She leant forward, checking the PADD once again, her reflection scowling back at her on the blank screen.:: I'll just let him get maimed or worse, then explain to his sister how it happened while he was helping me look for my brother. But it had absolutely nothing to do with me.

 

Chris’ lips set into a thin line as Valesha’s sarcasm landed like a brick through a window. A terse exhale from his nose and the back of his head dropped to the headboard. 

 

Johns: You’re right, it’s nothing to do with you. He might be here for you, but whatever he’s done — and judging by this, ::he pointed to his neck,:: he’s done his fair share — he’s going to have to face it, eventually. 

 

Sienelis: I know that. ::Tension rippled through muscle, and a glower ignited in green eyes.:: He also risked his life to haul me off an exploding ship when he didn't have to. He's an [...], but he's my friend, too.

 

The solid beat of his heart behind his sternum like a drum, Chris glanced down to the PADD resting on his thigh. The screen turned dim from lack of use but the contents still there, faded into the background behind a gossamer black. Bear was her friend; he cared about her as much as she did him, that was clear enough from all angles, but prodding Chris' guts was the reminder of a conversation with the blond on the bridge of the Azetbur — the seed of doubt, taking root. 

 

Johns: Then as soon as the storm's cleared, we'll send him back. ::He shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly and tapped the PADD.:: Or I'll go back, and then there won't be a problem. You three can just do your Labyrinth thing again. 

 

Back home, Valesha had earned herself the nickname "Nei'rrh". It was a small bird, quite beautiful with its colourful plumage — and as so many things on Romulus had been, poisonous. Intended or not, Chris' last comment needled under her skin like a barb from that little bird, and Valesha turned to look at him with a pained expression, lips pressed into a thin line, frown carving even deeper. Words boiled up and evaporated before reaching her tongue, pulse humming in her ears, and she ran a hair through her hair in frustration, droplets of water flicking across the sheets. 

 

Sienelis: My mistake. I didn't realise giving a crap about my friend was such a pain point for you. Next time I won't mention it.

 

Snatching the blank, silent PADD from the side table, the Romulan pushed herself off the bed. On the Gorkon, she would have stalked into the bedroom or even straight out of the door, but in the small hotel room, there wasn't anywhere to go. In the absence of options, she threw herself into the easy chair by the window, curling her legs underneath her and trying to focus on the screen in her hand.

 

A pang of guilt sank like a stone in the Russian’s innards, and any attempt of not looking at her failed instantly. His jaw set as he chewed his cheek, an inhale flared his chest and the surge of the woefully inept at suppressing a temper that evening ignited. He shot up to his feet, the PADD skimming across the bedsheets, and grabbed his pants. 

 

Johns: It was a pain point. Right in the damn neck they almost broke. ::There was never a straightforward way to put pants on while angry, but damn, he tried.:: I’m sorry if me being nearly murdered and being [...]ed about it is such a pain point for you. Next time, I’ll die quietly so Marshall can go about living his blissful, blameless life.

 

Words punctuated by the sudden slam of something against the wall next door and a loud laugh echoed if only dulled by cavity space. As quickly as she'd thrown herself into the chair, Valesha was out of it, her rising temper drowning out the little voice trying to tell her to back down, he had a point, wasn't she furious about that too? Heart thrumming under her ribs, blood on fire, frustration poured out in words.

 

Sienelis: Don't be so f— ::She bit down on the rest of the sentence and pivoted.:: Was yelling at him while you and Lena worked through a bottle of rum not a good enough sign I'm angry about that too? What do you want from me here? Cut him out of my life? How about I do that when you drop the friend who thinks I tried to murder a few thousand Vulcans because I'm Romulan and that's what we do?

 

Johns: Vorin nearly lost his sister because of some stupid stunt the Juneau played, don’t you think he’s got the right to be angry about it? He’ll calm down when he’s worked out what he’s thinking isn’t logical. It’s not the same thing as having a target on your back because that moron, ::he pointed to the joining wall, where banging once again punctuated,:: couldn’t decide where his loyalties lie. He couldn’t even help you magnanimously, he had to do it to save his own skin!

 

The thought struck Valesha that a hotel that catered to her people — sensitive hearing and all — should have thicker or otherwise sound-proofed walls. Alas, that was not the case, and she grimaced through the continued noise from next door, conscious that she didn't want to be heard in turn. With her temper roiling, it meant that her words were spat out through a low, hoarse hiss.

 

Sienelis: It's been nearly a year! That's not angry, that's a grudge — and there's only one reason why he's blaming me and not anyone on the Juneau. Do you have any idea what it's like to go through life with people expecting the worst out of you, the second they realise what you are? When people you should be able to look up to, who owe you their lives, feel free to say things like "the rest of your people are trash and I thought you were, too"? Bear might be a piece of work at times, but he's never made me feel like I'm less than just because of where I come from.

 

Johns: Valesha, he's a Vulcan. If he could blame Romulans for the end of days, he would do. He's being an [...], and he knows he is, it'll just take time for his pride to slip. 

 

Chris exhaled like a bull from his nose. Anger vibrated in coils through his muscles as he tried to defend his friend who had crossed a line. Words needed saying when they got back to the Gorkon, but try as he might, those weren't the words doing the grand jete through his head. His heart hurt; like a splinter had lodged in there and tried to carve its way out. 

 

Johns: And of course Bear cares about you and your long Romulan life. Enough to let me know he had to convince you to come back to the Gorkon. What kind of life of perpetual suffering am I asking you to have if I'll be dead in the blink of an eye? He cares about you that much; he doesn't want you to risk heartbreak in a hundred years when you could be much happier with someone who will be alive for the length of yours. 

 

Sienelis: You think he's full of crap about everything else, but that's what you listen to?

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis

Science Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

PO First-Class Christopher Johns

Operations Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

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[JP] Lt. Sienelis & PO Johns - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part IX)

((Iuruth Heieun, Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V))

 

The momentum of the argument spurred her to inhale and continue — but nothing came out. Instead, she recoiled, taking a step back while a scalpel slipped between her ribs. Like blood in the water, an ache of doubt billowed out from the bottom of her chest. It wasn't the first time he'd brought up an ending to what they had framed as her choice or for her own good. Valesha knew she was hard to like, too full of sarcasm and soreness, and Chris deserved better. Maybe he'd finally realised that, too kind to spell it out, cushioning it the only way he could.

 

Sienelis: If you're having second thoughts about us, just get it over with. ::It wasn't anger humming through her words anymore, but something even more raw, her voice scratching against her throat.:: I'm not the one who keeps having doubts about our future.

 

Expecting the hard and angry tone to continue, the change in Valesha's voice cut through Chris like ice. Where anger thrummed before, the cold seep of an ache crept instead, winding through veins alive with adrenaline and coating them in layers of hurt. They’d had this conversation before, danced those steps, only this time someone else was playing the music.

 

Johns: Of course I'm not, I love you with every fibre of me, and I'm not having doubts about who I want to spend my life with. It's always been you. 

 

His hazel eyes softened as he looked at her, the internal motion wanting to cross the invisible boundary they'd created. Instead, his hands dropped to his hips.

 

Johns: But everyone seems so preoccupied with this idea that we're going to be unhappy because you'll live longer, or you're using me to get into the Federation, or, ::his hand raised and lowered helplessly, finding the back of his neck.:: We postponed getting married to come here and find Taeval, and it's turned into a monkey circus of evading him, ::a tilt of the head toward the wall this time,:: being captured by people he's [...]ed off. 

 

Her eyes closed in a tired wince at the mention of her using him. Another item to add to the ever-growing list of imagined schemes she supposedly ran. She didn't attempt to guess who'd suggested that to him — the list was too long, each name another flay of the whip — and instead she rubbed the heel of her palm against her forehead. Slim ridges of bone rubbed against her hand, a reminder of the heritage she'd been raised to be proud of, but one that seemed to earn her little else but scorn and trouble as an adult.

 

Sienelis: I don't know what you want me to do.

 

A deep sigh released from the Russian as his hand moved from the back of his neck through his hair, down to scratch at his warm stomach. He didn't like feeling vulnerable, never had, and it bled into those insecurities like a bird of prey digging those claws into supple flesh. 

 

Johns: Tell me you love me, and we'll talk about this again in a century.

 

Sienelis: You know that I love you. ::She looked back toward him and her shoulders sagged. Suddenly self-conscious, she stepped toward the end of the bed, scooping up her underwear and pulling it on under the towel.:: I'm not trying to defend him, I just... ::The Romulan shook her head, veering away from the subject.:: Nevermind.

 

Johns: I don’t mean to be an [...] about him. He’s your friend, I get that; I do. I don’t have to like him; he doesn’t have to like me, but we both care about you, and that should be enough. ::He scratched at his chest, anger abated, feeling a chill in the air where none existed.:: But what Vorin said, then what Marshall said… it just got under my skin. 

 

Sienelis: That's probably going to be a feature of life with me, Chris.

 

And that quiet, deflated sentiment hooked into her heart, carving through the wounds they'd both inflicted. Valesha wouldn't go so far as to say she was used to people assuming she had suspect motivations or malicious intentions, but it was somewhat expected at this point. Pulling on her vest, discarding the towel over the back of the chair. Heat [...]led at her eyes with the realisation that it affected him, too.

 

A hand running through his dark hair, Chris dropped onto the edge of the bed. He exhaled with a long stream, fingers scratching across his scalp, damp locks sticking up at all corners. The war between species — or even the casual racism of one to another — wasn’t something he’d ever had to deal with and knowing Valesha did in all walks of her life clung like claws to his shoulders. 

 

Johns: Only one of many more. 

 

The fire well and truly out, she sank down onto the arm of the easy chair, absently inspecting the arch of her foot, a feature she'd never given any thought to before meeting her Russian ballerino. They'd been fine the last time they'd danced together, hadn't they? Her brow knit together, remembering the vague, quiet sense she'd had that things between them were out of balance, waiting for something to tip a little too far. 

 

And just now, it had.

 

Sienelis: This place makes everything worse, I swear. 

 

Johns: We’re all on red alert. It amplifies everything. ::He inhaled, his eyes twinging in concern as he watched her.:: Your foot is bothering you?

 

She glanced up at him, caught in the act, and shook her head. Flexing and then pointing her toes, savouring the pull in her feet and calves, it was something to focus on, helping her to work through the hollow ache in her chest and the tinnitus in her mind. In moments like this, tired and heartsore, she could almost understand why her distant cousins had chosen to suppress, rather than feel.

 

Sienelis: No. Just stretching. Maybe. I don't know. ::She grimaced and pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling and exhaling a long sigh.:: I'm tired and wound up and I don't know what to do with myself.

 

He knew that feeling, stuck around his innards like he needed to get up and move, dispel pent up energy stored in limbs feeling restless. If they had more room, he'd suggest they dance. If it were safe to go outside, he'd suggest a walk. With limited options, he glanced to the wall. 

 

Johns: That replicator looks like it might do osol twists. ::Then, to Valesha.:: Do you want to get in bed and see how many we can get through before one of us cracks a smile?

 

She looked back toward him, green eyes meeting hazel across the space yawning between them. The question he'd asked her in front of the memorial echoed in between, the young Romulan swimming in doubt and uncertainty after their argument. 

 

Sienelis: Are you happy?

 

Johns: After we've just torn a strip out of each other? I've been better. 

 

A soft smile pulled at his lips, the twitch of amusement wrapped around a little sadness, and Chris got up from the edge of the bed, crossed the floor to Valesha, and sank down to his knees in front of her. He took her hands in his and kissed them; the scent of wild Romulan flowers from damp hair and skin. 

 

Johns: You are my best friend and the love of my life. You make me happy. Every day. Effortlessly.    

 

His faint smile echoed in her expression, and Valesha slipped off the seat, down onto the floor with him. She slipped her arm around his back, resting her chin on his shoulder, holding their hands to the middle of her chest. He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her close, and the Romulan curled against him, her voice soft and low. 

 

Sienelis: You're the only one I want. I've got no doubts, Chris. However long we have, it'll be worth it.

 

Johns: I promise it will be. Even times when it feels like it’s not. 

 

Both with the propensity to be stubborn, shout and argue all born out of the love reflected in shadows onto the glass window. Moving up her back, his fingers tangled into dark, damp hair and he kissed her temple as his heartbeat so solidly he could feel it. She leaned into the touch, a kiss to the edge of his jaw, breathing out the tension in a warm breath.

 

Sienelis: Ya lyublyu tebya.

 

Johns: Jol-ao au, e’lev.

 

Two souls, two hearts, two species, two languages, two people wrapped up in one another on the floor of their hotel room. The slip of thought moved into Chris’ mind; they’d teach their children both languages, they’d weave between like a lattice. He smiled softly against her cheek, nose nuzzling into olive skin. 

 

Johns: I still think I’d beat you at osol twists. 

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis

Science Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

PO First-Class Christopher Johns

Operations Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

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[JP] Lt. Sienelis & PO Johns - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part X)

((Sometime Later: Iuruth Heieun, Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V))

 

Lay sprawled on his back, Chris snored lightly through an exhausted sleep. One arm beneath Valesha’s pillow, his other hand on his bare stomach, his legs in the position familiar to both of the bed occupants now. The whispering hiss of rain outside accompanied his faint noise; thin raindrops hitting the brick and glass, a town perpetually drowning. Stretching a long leg out of passe, he turned in his midnight slumbering to wrap an arm around Valesha’s waist and resumed his deep sleep.

 

Through sheer habit, he kissed the skin between her shoulder blades as he snuggled into warm olive skin and dark hair, and whispered softly through vocal cords still under the serenity of snoozing. 

 

Johns: ::Quietly,:: Your alarm is going off. 

 

Sienelis: ::Mumbled.:: Why..?

 

The plaintive cry of a half-asleep Romulan, far more of a tired complaint than an actual question, she stretched out an arm and fumbled for the offending PADD. Blindly smacking the screen with her fingers didn't get her anywhere, and she pulled the device toward her with a low grumble of discontent. The sound stopped, the room slid back into the still quiet of the night, only the soft sound of breathing and the gentle rustle of sheets.

 

And then Valesha sat bolt upright in the bed, the PADD gripped in her fingers, the light from the screen painting her face in a pastel rainbow. So quick and so fast, she threw Chris off onto his back, wide awake by the force of a pillow to the back of his head and fumbled for the bedroom light touch switch beside the bed. 

 

Johns: What? ::A mild panicked yawn overtook his face, and he didn’t try to hide it.:: What is it?

 

Sienelis: I think it's Taeval.

 

Disbelief, hope, and fear hummed through her voice; a decade of hope and heartache culminating in that moment. Words curled across the screen. Rihan. Not romanised into the common Federation alphabet, but the curved geometric shapes of the Romulan language. It was a single question, obscure, absent any context — and that was the point. Only three people in the universe could know the answer to it. One held the PADD in her hands, one had sent the message... and the other had been dead for ten years.

 

Three centurions: Khiarra, Khaveir and who? 

 

Valesha stared, unblinking, not breathing, pulse thumping in her head. By her side, Chris rubbed his tired eyes and yawned widely, his hand sliding up and down her lower back. Squinting through the haze of sleep, he attempted to recall his limited knowledge of Romulan cursive script, but it always looked a little Vulcan. 

 

Johns: What does it say?

 

The question broke her best imitation of a statue, if only because she had to breathe in to answer. 

 

Sienelis: "Three centurions: Valesha, Taeval and who?

 

Johns: Is that code, or…?

 

His dark eyebrow arched upwards over a sleepy hazel eye as the words filtered into his head, but no discernable answer returned. Likely to be names, if they were centurions. Chris leaned back against the pillows and tucked an arm behind his head.

 

Sienelis: In a way? ::She chewed her lip, tapping out a response, her thumb hovering over send.:: Three centurions: me, Taeval and our pet ehlu, Khaeus. We used to dress up, have adventures in the garden, that sort of thing.

 

The metal image of it caught on Chris’ mind and it brought a grin; the thought of a smaller Valesha — haircut no less severe — and accompanying twin pretending to command the legions of the Romulan Star Empire from the long grasses of their garden home. Long grasses and gardens he and Valesha walked through, got engaged in, even if they only looked alike in spirit. The smile twitched at his lips as he poked his wife-to-be in the kidney.

 

Johns: A centurion? And here you are, cavorting with a Uhlan. 

 

Sienelis: Slumming it, I know. 

 

She shot him a thin smile, took a deep breath and sent the message, flopping back on the pillow with the PADD held up in front of her, waiting for a reply. Chris leaned closer to her, watching the screen with similar intent for a moment or two. The cursive Romulan script disappeared, then the replicator behind came into focus. Kissing her temple, he kicked off the covers to get up. 

 

Johns: Coffee? Tea? Anxious waiting isn’t a flavour. 

 

Sienelis: Tea. ::Valesha sat up again, restlessness curling its talons in, and ran a hand over her face. A moment later, she belatedly added,:: Thank you.

 

He shook his head as he yawned again, stabbing the tip of his finger into the controls for the replicator until it produced coffee and tea. Setting hers on her nightstand, he leaned over and kissed the side of her head through dark hair and she leaned into it, closing her eyes for a moment.

 

Johns: It might come through quicker if you don’t watch it. 

 

Sienelis: Johns' Rule of Anxious Relativity?

 

Johns: Einstein’s parable of quantum insanity. If you want to change the outcome, you need to do something different. ::A kiss planted on her cheek saw him retreat to the bathroom, shouting back through as he did so.:: Really, you’re the scientist here. 

 

Sienelis: You're the only one who thinks so!

 

His voice travelled through from the bathroom, the hiss of rain outside growing louder. Valesha looked at the PADD again and breathed out a sigh, tossing it onto the blankets and reaching for the tea. The spiced, nutty scent of aesollh wafted under her nose, and it conjured a small smile. Chris knew her well.

 

Johns: Even scientists have to have hobbies, right? Days spent on theories by night, she’s an interstellar starship thief. 

 

Sienelis: That's not all that far off what happened.

 

Her Russian returned moments later, scratching at his bare stomach and hip in his sleepy way. He picked up his mug of coffee from the replicator and lay on his side on the bed. Close enough to nudge her knee with his forehead, he leaned on a bent elbow, bearded cheek resting on his fingers as he took a drink. 

 

Johns: Might take your mind off things to tell me about the first time you saved my life, all those many moons ago. ::He looked up at her with a small grin.:: You don’t talk about it much. 

 

She answered with a muted smile, running her hand through his hair. His locks were not quite as long as when they'd first "met", far longer than when she'd returned from the Labyrinth's Scream. Irresistible to hearts and fingers, then and now.

 

Sienelis: It feels... I don't know. Crass? Like I would be trying to remind people they owe their lives to me. You do something like that because it's the right thing to do, not to keep a tally.

 

Johns: I don't think of it like that. ::His eyebrow flicked upwards slowly, glancing up into emerald eyes as he relished the feel of her fingers on his scalp.:: You did an incredibly brave thing, at considerable risk, not just to your career but your life, and Walter's and Petra's, and asked nothing for it.  ::His hazel eyes softened, and he chewed his bottom lip a little before continuing.:: I wouldn't be here if you hadn't, and rather selfishly, I like that I am. 

 

Sienelis: Me too. 

 

Valesha's heart thumped against her ribs, marvelling at how lives could be intertwined without people ever realising. She hadn't even known Chris existed when she'd set out to rescue the Gorkon, no clue that her actions would save the life of a man she'd fall in love with years later. And yet here they were and there he was, her husband-to-be helping her on her fool's quest to find her brother.

 

Sienelis: Do you want to talk about it? I don't want to dredge up bad memories in the name of a distraction. I only spent a few days Over There, and that was enough. ::She leaned her head toward him, one corner of her mouth ticking up.:: We can always default to Who Danced It Better: Nureyev or Miyazaki?

 

He grinned at her half-smile, hazel eyes flicking from lips to emerald; Valesha knowing the right buttons to push in their mutual love of the old-style ballet, and a soft sigh escaped him as he thought about being back home on the Gorkon, snuggled up on their sofa, arguing about who did the pas de deux in La Esmeralda better. He didn’t begrudge being there at all. Finding Taeval had followed them since Juneau, now coming to fruition. 

 

Johns: I always want to talk about how heroic and self-sacrificing my future ailhun is; it’ll make for a fantastic speech. “Saved my backside thrice over, naturally I couldn’t help but fall hopelessly in love with her.” ::He took a pull from his mug and found her feet with his.:: And you know, as well I do, Miyazaki’s en dedans pirouette after the tour in à la seconde was ballet perfection.

 

Sienelis: Yes, but one good pirouette does not a better performance make.

 

Johns: You’d argue otherwise, I take it?

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis

Science Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

PO First-Class Christopher Johns

Operations Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

Link to comment

[JP] Lt. Sienelis & PO Johns - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part XI)

((Iuruth Heieun, Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V))

 

She grinned at him, affection sparkling in green eyes, a marked difference from the fire and brimstone of a few hours ago. Sipping from her cup, she shook her head, seeing the distraction for what it was and welcoming it all the same.

 

Sienelis: Frequently.

 

Johns: You do the same thing when you finish your en dedans pirouette. ::The top of his foot ran under the bottom of hers as he explained it.:: Heel down in plié, ready to use the whole foot to control the turn. 

 

Sienelis: I only do what you taught me to.

 

Johns: Yes, but you actually do it. Yacht boy didn’t. 

 

She breathed out a quiet groan, downing another mouthful of tea, shaking her head. The less said about that man, the better. The devastation he'd wrought in such a short time was remarkable — every bit the spoilt, entitled narcissist she'd marked him for — and while Caedan had cheered up in the months since, the damage still lingered beneath. He avoided Adea where he could, and his smile pulled thin if the conversation wandered anywhere near a bizarre mix of topics; Japanese cuisine, tequila, the houses of Betazed, German castles, and anything else that reminded him of an evening he wished he could do over or the man he should have stayed away from.

 

Sienelis: I maintain he wasn't there for the ballet.

 

Chris laughed through his mouthful of coffee, swallowing in time before he choked to death. Valesha made the observation after the first ballet session where the noble had hardly listened to a word, and even weeks later, had made slow progress. However, there was an undercurrent of jealousy all the time, radiating from him whenever Valesha came up in conversation, or the two were in proximity. Grinning up at Vee, Chris flicked a cheeky eyebrow, and she shot a sly smile right back. 

 

Johns: He was always so obsessed with how my dance belt sat. 

 

About to take a sip, she snorted into her cup, the exhale splattering her face with tiny droplets of warm tea. Chuckling quietly, she blotted it away with a swipe of the hand, drying it on the quilt. Then, with an inhale and a sly twinkle, she summoned the very essence of arch Romulan haughtiness.

 

Sienelis: Whereas I'm only in it for the art.

 

Johns: Of course, I expect nothing less. Not there to watch me prance around in stirrup’d tights, and I am absolutely not there for your leotards. 

 

Sienelis: Merely an added bonus.

 

Johns: I’m glad you approve. I aim to please all my students. 

 

He finished the dregs in his mug and leaned over to slip it on the nightstand, avoiding rolling onto the small PADD lying on the bed with them. Valesha watched him, fingers curled around her cup, wondering if he had any idea of her motivations for learning to dance. Because he loved it, and that love was infectious, true — but there was more to it than that. 

 

Sienelis: I shall take the high road, ::she arched a sly eyebrow, a twinkle in her eyes,:: and simply say I am very content with my teacher.

 

Johns: I have been thinking of a pas de deux we could design together. Choreographing it in my head. ::Turning back to her, he lay sideways, settling his head on her thigh, and her fingers snaked back into his hair again.:: Make it a blend of Russian and Romulan. 

 

Sienelis: Maybe there's a Romulan dance troupe here we could go and see for inspiration before we leave. 

 

With gentle affection swimming in hazel, her Russian looked up at her and smiled, moving his head in time with her fingers and breathing contentedly. They’d started this routine “years” earlier in a dream, with repeated requests from a friend to dance with a friend, so to lie there as Valesha shared in something he’d loved since he was a child never failed to bring a gentle thud behind his breastbone.

 

Johns: Or at least some research material we could get our hands-on. I like the thought of it; whether the two would mesh together is something else. ::He sighed, deflating his chest.:: We’ll just have to practise. 

 

Sienelis: I promise to try and not break any more shoes in the endeavour. ::A mischievous glint shimmered in green.:: Emphasis on try.

 

Johns: I don’t know, ::he looked up at the ceiling with a dreamy expression, remembering the day fondly,:: it turned out well for us. And angry Valesha is pretty sexy. Ballet shoes have paid the ultimate price for worse reasons. 

 

She finished the last of her tea, resisting the temptation to pick up the PADD and stare at it. It would sound where there was something to see, and not before. Putting the cup to the side on the table, she looked back to Chris and found a grin, raising her eyebrows in amusement.

 

Sienelis: Permission to lose my temper. You might regret that.

 

Johns: In the most delightful ways, I’m sure. 

 

He reached up to brush the back of his fingers over her olive-skinned cheek and smiled at the playfulness in emerald. It brought with it a gentle flare of fireworks in his chest; all the love in muscle and bone reflected right back. The soft smile turned at the corners into a wry, half-[...]ed grin and he turned his head to kiss her thigh. 

 

Johns: Fancy eloping?

 

Sienelis: What do you mean?

 

Johns: I... ::He started and stopped, unsure of how to put it into words.:: Do you ever want to just run away and get married? Take Caedan with us, Taeval when we turn over the stone where he is, Vorin when he's stopped being an [...]... ::Taking a breath, he looked up at her and dropped his hand to his stomach.:: Just our family. 

 

Still combing her fingers through his hair, Valesha looked back with a faint smile.

 

Sienelis: Is that what you'd like to do?

 

Johns: Sometimes, but I don’t think I’m going to escape having to steal you back from Brunsig, then I want it to be us on Vaeron, with everyone, and Nyura dragging you through all the Russian traditions.

 

Swinging like a pendulum between their varied options, they had so many. His mother would forgive him; she adored Valesha. His father was another matter. With a deep sigh, his hand dropped onto her foot, the back of his fingers moving over the delicate skin of her ankle lazily, down to thread his fingertips between her toes. Theirs wasn’t the most forgiving of passions to indulge in, producing aches and pains all over, but especially where all the force drove down into the floor. 

 

Johns: What do you want to do?

 

Sienelis: I just want to marry you, Chris. In a holodeck on the Gorkon, in a field on Vaeron, a civic hall ten minutes from here... Whatever the shape of it, I get you at the end.

 

Johns: Flattery won’t make me make this decision, you realise. 

 

Sienelis: Worth a try. 

 

She was quiet for a moment, combing her fingers back and forth, soft strands of hair tickling the delicate skin between her fingers. Her wedding was never going to be the one she imagined or expected — and that, as far as Valesha was concerned, was a good thing. Warmth slipped between her ribs, wrapping her heart in velvet, and she leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. 

 

Sienelis: I mean it, though.

 

Johns: Then we do what feels right when we get back. If that's a lavish affair with twenty courses, that's what it is. 

 

He smiled looking up at her and reached up to slip his fingers into her dark hair. Right there, in the emerald depth of her eyes, was the only place he needed to be. Lifting his head from her thigh, he caught her lips again, slow and unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world.    

 

Johns: You've already got me. Across two lifetimes. 

 

Sienelis: I— 

 

Her gaze darted away from him, the PADD chirping a desire for attention once again. Stealing a hurried kiss, she pulled away and grabbed for the device; her gaze intent on the screen. Another question, even more obscure than the last. She couldn't blame her brother for being cautious — if their situations were reversed, she'd suspect some plot of unwanted origin, the chance of a missing twin appearing after ten years too fantastic to be true.

 

Sienelis: You've got a choice, more coffee or sleep. ::She glanced around the screen, apologetic and resigned in one.:: Taeval's being as paranoid as I would be. I think we might be at this a while.

 

Johns: I could go for another hour or two. Who knows what lies in store for us tomorrow. 

 

As if on cue, a yawn rumbled through and he stretched his arms out to the sides, fists balled, the momentary tensing of tired muscles and the delicious relief of relaxing, all observed by the admiring eye of his fiancée. Forcing movement into protesting limbs, Chris sat up and dropped his legs off the edge of the bed, rubbing his eye with the ball of his hand.

 

Johns: Do you want some tea before I do? 

 

Sienelis: I'm all right. ::There was a pause, then she dropped her hand holding the PADD to the sheets to add, softly, :: Thank you.

 

Her Russian grinned as his hand ruffled through his hair, and he leaned back on his elbow, resting it on the mattress, close enough to kiss her bare shoulder. A low thrum of love spread through his ribs as the warmth and scent of her skin wrapped around him like a blanket. 

 

Johns: Wake me up if you need distracting? I'm sure I can think of ways. 

 

Sienelis: I'm sure you can.

 

Her lips twitched, eyebrows raised, accompanying the wry tone of voice. With a deep inhale and exhale, she sank back down onto the pillows and shuffled across the mattress. Just a little, enough to feel him there beside her as she began her vigil. Chris settled into bed on his side, oddly the same as they were back on the Gorkon, pillow fluffed into compliance, and closing whatever gap Valesha had left, he slipped his leg beneath hers. 

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis

Science Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

PO First-Class Christopher Johns

Operations Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

Link to comment

[JP] Lt. Sienelis Lt. Marshall & Lt. JG Josett - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part XII)

((Next Morning: Iuruth Heieun, Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V))

 

The light through the window didn't change all that much from the night before; the street lamps dimmed, the rain continued, creating a sheen of water against the pane. Another glorious morning in the Romulan town of Little Ki Baratan, where the only thing working harder than the dockers was the weather system. 

 

Underneath quilts, snuggled into the mattress and pillows, Bear lay on his side, enjoying the slow, rhythmic sound of Lena snoozing. Dark curls sprawled on her pillow, Bajoran nose twitching as she slept leading up into olive-skinned ridges of Cardassian heritage marking her forehead; each marking distinctively hers and beautifully so. He inhaled a soft breath as he watched her sleep, amber eyes flickering under her eyelids, the twitch of a smile ever-present on her lips even while wading through dreams, and a deliciously slow ache crept up around his heart. 

 

His arm slipped beneath her pillow, tangling his fingers in hers on the other side, and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to her lips. 

 

O. Marshall: ::Quietly,:: I missed you. 

 

She drew in the slow, deep breath of the dreamer, barely disturbed, a small turn of her head on the pillow and little else. There was no sign that she'd heard him, slumbering on, until she gave his fingers the lightest of squeezes and breathed out a quiet, dozy mumble.

 

Josett: ...missed you, too.

 

He smiled, the spread of feeling through his chest, warming beneath his collarbone and sternum. Nuzzling his nose into her dark curls, Bear’s eyes closed as he kissed her temple, and settled in to enjoy a lazy morning together with the hiss of rain accompanying. 

 

...Until a chime of the door echoed around the room. Relaxed morning broke. 

 

O. Marshall: Go away, Sienelis. 

 

For a few, sweet moments, it looked like she had. Then the chime sounded again, this time accompanied by a Romulan fist beating heel first into the door, in a knock that would have forced lesser doors from their hinges. Had said door possessed hinges. Bear exhaled a terse breath from his nose and rolled to his side. Legs dropped off the edge of the bed and stared at the other side of the door with the intensity of a dying star. As perpetual banging continued, he pushed up to his feet and slapped his hand onto the door controls. Setting his jaw, Bear growled as the door slid back into the recess.

 

O. Marshall: WHAT? Are you dying again?

 

She sucked in a sharp breath to retort, then the vast expanse of completely exposed flesh sent an olive flush running to her cheeks and her eyes toward the heavens. Sarcastic comeback lost to the aether, she instead raised her hands in a frustrated, expansive gesture. 

 

Sienelis: For the love of— Are you allergic to clothes, or what?

 

The blond stared at her for a minute with the weight of his brow in full force. She scowled back with equal determination, chin and eyes determinedly elevated. She wasn't a prude, but there were just some parts of Bear she didn't want to see.

 

O. Marshall: You got me out of bed to ask me that?

 

Sienelis: No. ::She fired back, annoyance flaring.:: We're meeting Taeval in an hour.

 

He yawned loudly, crooked elbow leaning against the doorframe as his hand scratched through his hair. The very picture of a man who could happily go back to bed and remain there. 

 

O. Marshall: You’re sure it’s him and not some random Star Empire agent this time?

 

Sienelis: What do you mean "this time"?

 

O. Marshall: Wasn’t exactly the Orion Syndicate I was dealing with, was it? ::His fingers rubbed into his eye sockets as he looked at her and frowned.:: You coming in or what?

 

Sienelis: I've already seen more of you than I ever wanted to, I don't want to get an eyeful of Lena as well.

 

Josett: Your loss!

 

Valesha grimaced as Lena's voice echoed around the bedroom walls, taking a step back at the sound of the bed sheets rustling. Bear glanced over his shoulder to his wife, a chuckle there somewhere in the back of his mind, the rest of him too tired to show it. 

 

O. Marshall: An hour. Where?

 

Sienelis: Memorial Square.

 

He nodded and pushed off his elbow from the frame, resting his hand there instead. An hour gave them enough time to shower, dress, and get out of there, taking perhaps a long route around should they be followed. 

 

O. Marshall: We’ll meet you outside in half an hour, then. Try not to let Chris get kidnapped this time.

 

Sienelis: Plan is to let them have you.

 

O. Marshall: And here I thought we were best friends. ::He held his arms out to her.:: Come on, haircut. Bring it in. 

 

Sienelis: One day, I'll call your bluff. ::She stared back at him, trying to summon the courage to beat him at his own game. But her eyebrows pulled into that familiar scowl, her lips thinned and she wagged a finger in his direction.:: Today is not that day.

 

O. Marshall: There’s that legendary Romulan bravery I’ve heard so much about. ::His eyebrow curved upwards and, despite the back and forth between the two, Bear sighed with a slight grin on his features.:: Are you excited?

 

The scowl dropped away from her features in the span of a Romulan heartbeat, a deep inhale as the distraction ended and thoughts of the meeting ramped up her pulse. Excited, apprehensive, elated, terrified; it was a potent mix of emotions coursing through her veins, her blood electric and her muscles charged. A small, anxious grin echoed back at him, and she nodded.

 

Sienelis: Yeah. It doesn't seem real.

 

Her expression teased out his grin a little more, infectious as it was. A meeting a decade in the making, a sister finding her brother after so long apart and so much had changed in the interim. It curled like a little hook into his heart — that the wedge driven between Bear and Jo felt a little lessened. 

 

O. Marshall: We'd better not be late, ey? I’d rather not suffer those consequences before breakfast. 

 

Sienelis: Go. ::She wafted a hand toward him.:: Feast. Caffeinate. Locate your pants. I'll see you in half an hour.

 

O. Marshall: You are as gracious as ever. 

 

He reached out to ruffle his hand through her hair as the door closed, narrowly missing the sprightly Romulan by an inch. The door closed, Bear frowned a little. Apprehension twirled around his internals. They were definitely going into this with some kind of armament. Hearing the hiss of water other than rain, and with a cheeky grin beneath the blond beard, Bear darted into the bathroom to sneak into Lena’s shower. 

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis

Science Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

Lieutenant Orson Marshall

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

 

&

 

PO First-Class Christopher Johns

Operations Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

Link to comment

[JP] Lt. Sienelis, Lt. Marshall, Lt. JG Josett, & PO Johns - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part XIII)

((Memorial Square, Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V))

 

The plaza looked slick under the coat of rainwater, shimmering in the sunlight. Plants in bedding boxes all around glistened with the fresh watering, the soil greedily soaking it in as two tiny birds that could fit into the palm of a hand flit back and forth, fighting over the nectar from one budding flower, creating a twirling pirouette in midair. In the middle of the morning, it was busier than it had been at night; older Romulans sat on the benches conversing in Rihan, children ran around the large mosaic bird on the floor dodging the lines of the wings in some game as children do while parents stood in doorways or sat on bistro tables talking, watching, waiting. Little Ki Baratan in the autumn was a little lovely. 

 

Back on Esperance Station, Bear had made the observation that the four of them resembled an Andorian family on a tourist visa, heading out to see all the sights and sounds of the four corners of the Federation. Sat at one of the bistro tables, they did. A tall glass of citrus carallun in hand, all the blond needed to complete the breakfast was a sandwich. 

 

Chris nursed a cup of tarka — a Romulan drink served hot, tasting a little like cinnamon and cloves with a hint of rose, though not as woody — glancing to Valesha with a slight smile at the phrases he could just about understand in Low Rihan from the couple sat across from them. She barely noticed, sat in pensive stillness, her gaze darting around the edges of the square and then back to the middle, where children played and their elders conversed.

 

A flip of a coin and this could have been her life.

 

The sight seized her heart more than Væron had. That was a sleepy Romulan colony, stirring from a long slumber by fights over mining rights. But it was, mostly, as it always had been. Quiet, provincial, its population the same as before — give or take the natural march of births and deaths, and the influx of Federation miners. A familiar slice of Romulan life, but somehow distant at the same time.

 

The Romulans in the square were her people. From the same place, she'd called home, who'd lived through the same losses, who'd had to make their homes in places they weren't welcome among people who didn't want them there. United by a shared, terrible event and the struggle to find themselves in the wake. There was a kinship between them, if a grim one.

 

Her knee bounced in agitation and she leaned back in the chair. 

 

Sienelis: What time is it?

 

Johns: Just after ten, I think. ::He waved his hand over the screen of the small PADD and nodded through a pull of tarka.:: Just after ten.

 

O. Marshall: He’ll be here. Somewhere. Watching. It’s what we’d do. 

 

Placing one hand on her thigh and pressing down to still it, Valesha nodded. He was right, much as she always hated to admit it. Even with everything she knew, each question answered only as she could. There had to be a niggle of doubt in his mind. Why now, after ten years? Where had she been? What was she doing with her life? Each question had the possibility of answers he wouldn't want.

 

The question was, would seeing her sat there with two humans and a Bajoran-Cardassian hybrid ease that doubt, or intensify it? 

 

Sienelis: It's been ten years, right? What's a few more minutes.

 

Under the table, Chris reached for her hand on her knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. Quietly reassuring in his way. He placed the tarka mug in front of her and stole Bear’s last mouthful of the orange and yellow swirling liquid in his glass to wash it down with, much to the indignation of the blond who rolled his eyes and looked for the server. 

 

Johns: We’ve got nowhere else to be. He’s who we came for. If we need to, we’ll wait all day for him to appear. 

 

O. Marshall: I wonder if he thinks you’re a clever clone, setting a trap. 

 

Josett: Or working for someone he'd rather you weren't.

 

That earned the hybrid a sharp look and determined scowl, which she naturally answered with a sunny smile and a sip from her mug. An educated guess. Probably. Still, it hit uncomfortably close to the mark — there was a very distinct possibility that Taeval was worried she was under their father's thumb, looking to bring him home.

 

Johns: You know one another better than that. ::He sat back in his chair and inhaled the sweet air of the town; bread, flowers, tarka he was becoming fond of…:: Appropriate caution can’t be a bad thing. Besides, ::he glanced over his shoulder to Lena,:: you’re the only one of us who looks remotely villainous. 

 

Josett: I can't help it, it's the spoon. ::She ran her fingers over the raised oval of bone on her forehead.:: It says, "I'm going to conquer your planet and sneer while I'm doing it."

 

She grinned at Chris and shrugged, the brilliant smile and soft chuckle going a long way to hide the dampened sparkle in amber eyes. Chris shook his head as a small set'leth kitten strode past, much tail swinging going on and not a care in the world. It brought back a sliver of memory from the first time he’d seen one, scavenging for food on Vaeron. 

 

Johns: No, it’s the swagger that says “I’m going to steal your loot and have a jolly good time doing it.”

 

O. Marshall: There’s a booty joke I could make here. ::His lips twitched near imperceptibly.:: But I won’t. 

 

Valesha's chair scraped across the stone paving, the repartee falling on deaf ears. She stood, staring across the square and over the heads of the children skipping across the mosaic. On the other side of the memorial, a tall young man had stepped into view, staring right back at her. Wrapped in a long, thick coat, collar pulled high against the weather, he shared the same high cheekbones and sculpted jaw of his sister, his head a mop of rain-soaked curls.

 

Chuckling at Bear’s non-joke, Chris didn’t realise until Valesha was on her feet. He followed her eye line across the square to the likeness of her in the cut of his face and eyes, and it prompted a long inhale with a whoosh of an exhale. There he was, after a year of looking and searching, standing across from them like coming for breakfast. Bear did the same, turning slightly to look across the expansive town centre to the figure.

 

O. Marshall: Is that him? 

 

She nodded, unable to catch her breath as her heart slammed against her ribcage. Unable to tear her gaze away, head spinning and pulse pounding in her ears, Valesha willed herself forward. But her muscles locked in place, unwilling to comply, fight-or-flight instincts misfiring amidst the surge of hormones pouring into her veins. He made no move either, two statues staring at each other in hopeful, anxious disbelief.  

 

Beside her, Chris stood up, a healthy dose of caution being drowned out by surprise. It was undeniable how much they looked like one another, both looking like their mother, with the interweaving influence of a father somewhere in there. Gently, the Russian slipped his hand to the small of Valesha’s back, his grin cracking through. 

 

Johns: Maybe one of you should make the first move. 

 

Valesha nodded again, and with a clumsy, blind touch to Chris' shoulder she stepped forward. Taeval didn't move, watching her, and she walked toward him, numb despite the firestorm raging through her flesh and bones. Dissociated, a distant observer, as though she was watching a touching interest story about refugees reuniting on the tenth anniversary of the disaster. 

 

Children darted around her as she crossed the mosaic, laughing and calling out to each other, unaware that the world of the two adults among them was shifting on its foundations. She stopped in front of him, a matched pair of mossy eyes meeting in the middle; uncertainty, hope and disbelief mirrored and echoing. Valesha planted her hands on his chest, fingers splayed, pushing against him. The gentlest of pressure, only enough to reassure herself that there was resistance and he wasn't merely a phantom of a heartsore dream.

 

The notch in his throat bobbed with a swallow, and he covered her hands with his, his fingers curling around her palms. His voice was low and soft, a raw, gravelled whisper.

 

Taeval: Y'hhau, rinam lhhea.

 

The [...] broke. 

 

A bittersweet ache rolled like thunder through both Romulans, the storm crackling through bone, blood and sinew, out to the tips of fingers and back again, striking at the throat and eyes and chest. Valesha choked out a sob and threw her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close, and he wrapped his arms around her, each burying their face in the other's shoulder, a decade of hope and heartache falling in hot tears. 

 

Across the plaza, her young Russia’s grin only grew wider. Yet to sit down, he slipped his hands into his pockets as he watched the meeting of a decade, of a fundamental shift in their universe, as though this were any normal day, in any normal place. His heart thumped hard in his chest, a warmth spreading like a wildfire, and he wiped away an escaping tear with the back of his hand. The server came and went unnoticed, while Bear, sitting and watching, smiled as he inwardly marvelled at how different things seemed to be from a year ago, and reached over the table for Lena’s hand. 

 

Sienelis: Y'hhau, dinam khiilal.

 

Smiling through misty eyes and damp cheeks, Valesha leaned back to look at him again, cradling his face in her palms, then dropping her hands to his shoulders. A tight knot pulled at her stomach; shadowed eyes and pallid skin, gaunter than she remembered, the look of someone who'd been ground down by time. But he was beaming at her then, eyes sparkling like emeralds in sunlight, handsome and boyish.

 

Sienelis: We have so much to talk about.

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis

Science Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

Lieutenant Orson Marshall

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

 

&

 

Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

PO First-Class Christopher Johns

Operations Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

Link to comment

[JP] Lt. Sienelis, Lt. Marshall, Lt. JG Josett, PO Johns & Taeval - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part XIV)

 

((Memorial Square, Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V))

 

Taeval laughed and nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead and pulling her back into a fierce hug, not bothering to dry his cheeks in the ongoing rainfall. A night spent staring at the glow of a PADD screen, trying to think of ever more obscure facts she should know, of trick questions to catch an imposter out, to get a sense of whether her motivations were genuine, and here she was. Squeezing him tight, hiccuping through tears of joy and looking exactly like the sister he remembered, only with better hair.

 

Over her shoulder, he could see the trio of aliens watching them. One wearing a grin that could light up whole stadiums. The other two hand-in-hand, their smiles more subdued — especially the woman — but smiling nonetheless. A strange mix, and one that he had struggled to understand since Zeron had mentioned it. With another squeeze, he pulled back to smile at her again, brushing a tear away with the pad of his thumb.

 

Taeval: You could start with why you're here with two humans and a Cardassian. ::His affable smile was familiar and warm, threatening Valesha with tears once again.:: I couldn't figure that part out.

 

He spoke in a low, mellow tenor, a contrast to her often sharp and acerbic words. She laughed and nodded, wiping away the damp from her face. Oh, wasn't that a long and strange story. One in a dream, the other while running to avoid false charges, the last while undercover on an Orion Syndicate ship. Bonds forged in the most unusual of circumstances, often vibrating with tempestuous passions, but powerful enough to see them here by her side. 

 

Sienelis: They're friends of mine. ::She took a step to the side, holding on to his arm, and looked toward them.:: They helped me find you. Do... Do you want to meet them?

 

Taeval: I would.

 

She grinned at him and arm in arm, Valesha returned to the bistro table with her brother with a skip in her step, brimming with energy. Rarely was her smile this brilliant, eyes glittering with undisguised joy. 

 

Sienelis: Taeval, this is Chris, Bear and Lena. And... this is my brother.

 

While Bear nodded with a slight bow of his head, smiling for the buoyant energy Valesha exuded in spades, Chris looked contentedly happy. This was what they’d worked so hard for, to see how incredibly joyous his partner could get, her beaming smile worth every single step they’d taken and the rest that would come. The spread of warmth through his heart was electrifying. 

 

Johns: It’s very good to meet you, Taeval, though I have to say, I did promise I’d ask you to marry me the minute we met.

 

Taeval: Oh. 

 

He paused, bemused, while Valesha breathed out a soft noise of despairing amusement. Taeval sent a curious, uncertain look toward his sister, the mild-mannered expression of someone not sure exactly what the joke is. She grinned at him, squeezing his arm, and he smiled placidly back, his gaze returning to Chris.

 

Taeval: As I understand it, human courting rituals involve flowers, food and fine jewellery. You do seem to have come woefully under-prepared.

 

Johns: If the proposal is sincere enough, who needs the trimmings? ::He smiled, the playful twinkle in his eye, and gestured to the plaza garden.:: We’re in a flower garden, there’s food on the table, ::then the flicker of an eyebrow to Valesha,:: though we might have to steal your fine jewellery. 

 

Valesha exhaled a shallow breath, her smile clinging even as her heart gave an anxious thump beneath her ribs. So many times she'd wondered what Taeval would think of Chris, not just as a person, but the person she wanted to spend her life with. She'd rehearsed the conversation in her head, over and over, but now the moment was here, she didn't know how to say it. The flicker of hesitation, however small, across her face caused a chunk of ice to melt and spread in Chris’ stomach. 

 

Sienelis: Chris is— ::A tremor of nervousness darted across her expression and she chose the Rihan instead.:: Ahrir'annhaer mnean.

 

Taeval blinked a slow close and open of his eyes, though that was the only outward expression of his surprise. He looked away from Chris, toward his sister, dumbstruck for a short while until he found his voice again.

 

Taeval: You're getting married? ::He paused, and his dark eyebrows lifted.:: On purpose?

 

She huffed out annoyance through her grin and smacked him square in the chest, a laugh bubbling out of the Romulan man in response, holding up a warding hand. Both still riding the euphoric high of reunion, the twins had the same grace in their movements, though he was more languid and reserved than Valesha's intense energy. He reminded Chris of a ballerino he knew back in Paris; ease about him, effortless confidence, like it was a second skin.

 

Johns: We could try for accidentally instead, ::her Russian lifted his shoulder with a soft amused grin,:: but declaring intent thwarts that a little. 

 

O. Marshall: She’s still got time to change her mind, Taeval. Hold on to that hope. 

 

The blond leaned back in his chair and Chris sent a flat biscuit his way with a flick of his wrist, catching Bear in the forehead. General scowl dished out, Bear looked to Lena, witness to his indignity, and the muted smile on her lips brought a slice of it home, quite unlike his grinning counterpart. Maybe it was the reconciliation of family after so long or the acceptance of brother and sister; something had become stuck somewhere with talons and wouldn’t let go. Squeezing her fingers gently as he had that morning, Bear sent a questioning eyebrow her way. 

 

Her answering grin was crooked, perennial cheer harder to maintain in the moment. She had no intention of answering, of exposing that soft underbelly of her persona, of explaining how the reunion was everything her reconnection with family hadn't been. Instead, she leaned over to swipe the biscuit formerly known as projectile, and crunched on it.

 

Sienelis: Ignore Bear. I usually do. 

 

O. Marshall: You all do until you want something. ::He twitched a smile to the young Romulan and inhaled with a new breath as he looked at Lena.:: I’m satisfied he’s not an assassin, so, how about we take a walk? Leave them to catch up. 

 

Josett: A fine plan.

 

Lena slipped her hand from his, and in an exaggerated movement, hauled herself to her feet. Swagger firmly in place, she sauntered up to the trio and patted Valesha on the cheek with a grin, eyeing Taeval up and down with an appreciative sigh, before looking back to the Romulan. Taeval flushed at Lena's overt ogle, and Valesha scowled at her.

 

Josett: I, for one, am glad you found him.

 

Sienelis: Lena— 

 

Josett: Very glad.

 

With a last sly grin at Taeval, serving to darken the Romulan's blush, she moved away to Bear's side, chuckling to herself. 

 

A laugh caught onto Chris’ shoulders as he watched the wonder that was Lena, and bit down on his lips when Bear shot him a steel blue look and a raise of his eyebrow. It simmered into a smile as her blond husband fell into step with his dark wife, and Bear slipped his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat, collar up around his neck. He sent a gentler smile to Valesha, one with more weight to it. Proud of her, maybe, though something a little more tender he tried to cover.   

 

O. Marshall: Shout if you need us, we’ll stay in range. 

 

After a simmering look toward the hybrid, which Lena shrugged off with a mischievous twitch of her brow, Valesha met Bear's gaze. Her expression softened, and the fondness she tried so hard to hide was obvious for once in warm eyes and a mild smile.

 

Sienelis: I will. Thank you.

 

As the two intelligence officers moved away, their slow walk through the light shower a little warming to the heart and soul, Chris drew out the additional chair set around their table for Taeval. While there was nothing more the Russian wanted than to spend time with Valesha and her brother, there were conversations that would be easier to have if he wasn’t there. Slipping his PADD into his pocket and stepping up to his Romulan, Chris stole a kiss from her forehead and sought out emerald eyes with hazel. 

 

Johns: I won’t be far. Call it a chance to find some osol twists for later. 

 

Sienelis / Taeval: You don't have to—  

 

The pair spoke over each other and stopped with a shared grin, Taeval brushing the rain from his curls and rubbing the back of his head, Valesha huffing out a soft laugh. Chris chuckled and squeezed Valesha's arm gently, shaking his head at the twins with undisguised amusement. 

 

Johns: Yes, I do. You’ve got a decade to catch up on, I don’t mind making myself scarce for that. ::He glanced at Taeval, and the familiar features of his wife to be, as he pulled his collar up.:: Do you want to join us for dinner later?

 

Taeval: I would. ::He smiled, and graced Valesha with a sly, sidelong look.:: Unlike some, I can even cook.

 

Sienelis: I can cook. I choose not to.

 

Johns: I’m still waiting for bliny pancakes. One day I’ll get them. 

 

Favouring him with a withering glare that swam with tease and affection, Valesha sniffed imperiously and lifted her chin.

 

Sienelis: Anticipation of a pleasure is a pleasure in itself. 

 

Chris echoed the posture, lifting a bearded chin with an intrigued grin on his lips, resisting the urge to snake his arms around her and lay siege to those supercilious features.  

 

Johns: Is that so? I’ll keep it in mind. 

 

Taeval: Maybe you should let him go before you dig yourself in deeper.

 

Her brother leaned in to murmur the recommendation in a quiet voice and with an amused smile, though she could see something else worrying at his eyes. Something he wanted to say or ask, and wasn't prepared to do so in front of Chris. She sighed her defeat in the matter, shaking her head, and leaned forward to capture her partner's cheek with her hand and steal a quick, soft kiss from his lips.

 

Sienelis: All right. Stock up, would you? I promised Caedan I'd bring some back. ::She grinned a little.:: He likes the purple ones.

 

Johns: Your wish is my command. ::Said with heavy Russian emphasis on the rolling trill of his accent, he reached down for her hand and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.:: Try not to drink them out of tarka while I’m gone. 

 

A flicker of an eyebrow with a wry grin to his wife to be, and the same sent to Taeval, Chris beat a retreat from the reunion into the heavy rain-soaked streets of the Ki Bataran facsimile on the hunt for Romulan treats, while Valesha and her reunited brother settled in for a long conversation. 

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis

Science Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

Lieutenant Orson Marshall

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

 

&

 

Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

PO First-Class Christopher Johns

Operations Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

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[JP] Lt. Sienelis & Taeval - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part XV)

((Memorial Square, Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V))

 

Valesha's gaze lingered on her partner as he walked away, oblivious to Taeval watching her in turn. In truth, she was a little afraid to be on her own with her brother, with nowhere to run and no one to take solace in. Now they had to have a conversation and face whatever the conversation might reveal. She swallowed, and it was then she finally felt the weight of her brother's gaze. He smiled at her, and she gave him an exasperated, affectionate frown.

 

Sienelis: What?

 

Taeval: I'd ask you if you know what you're doing... but you do, don't you?

 

She pulled in a breath and breathed out a sharp sigh, a taut smile in a tense expression. What Taeval would think of Chris, what he would think of them, was something that had been swimming in her mind since the moment she'd found out her brother was alive. But there was no judgement in his eyes, only concern. Valesha could understand why — if their situations were reversed, she'd feel much the same way.

 

Sienelis: I think it's the only thing I am certain about. ::Her gaze darted back to Chris' receding form.:: You'll like him.

 

Taeval: I already do. I might even take him up on that marriage proposal. He's wasted on you.

 

His grin was mischievous and teasing, taking ten hard years from his face, turning him into the boy she'd grown up with instead of the world-weary man she'd found. He grinned and tweaked her nose, she swatted him on the shoulder, and they both laughed when he pulled her into another hug, squeezing her close. It was a feeling like no other, bound up in her little brother's arms after believing him gone for so long.

 

Taeval: Khiarra, I— I need to ask... ::He paused, hesitation in his pacific voice.:: If you're here, where's Mamma?

 

Just like that, without even seeing him, she knew the years were back on, and then a few more. Her throat tightened and heat burned behind her eyes. It was the question she'd been dreading, and it was every bit the whiplash of hurt she'd expected. A tornado roared through, tearing her to pieces, and she held him tight, fingers digging into the thick, damp material of his coat. Taeval's breath whooshed past her ear, and his chin dug into her shoulder.

 

Taeval: It's all right. ::He kissed the side of her head, his voice raw.:: It's all right. You don't have to say it.

 

But she did. She owed him some kind of explanation; he deserved to know. Ignorance was purgatory, a unique suffering where the mind tortured itself with possibilities and scenarios. No doubt he'd already spent ten years wondering, and the least she could do was give him the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

 

With a deep breath, she slipped out of his arms. As much as Valesha tried to meet his gaze, she couldn't, telling her story to the base of his throat.

 

Sienelis: We got away from Romulus together. But the evacuation ships were...

 

Ancient. Decrepit. A desperate response to a desperate situation. Not fit for hauling cargo, let alone people. Accidents waiting to happen. Death traps.

 

Taeval: ::Quietly,:: I remember.

 

Sienelis: It was quick. ::Valesha laughed, and she didn't know why. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of it, the fact it was supposedly a comfort.:: The inertial dampeners failed in her section of the ship, it was over in a second. She didn't suffer.

 

The rain drizzled around them, the laughter of the nearby children a curious source of hope and resentment. They would learn of the disaster through stories and history books, a generation removed from its predecessor's grief and anguish, and they had no idea how lucky they were. One day, she'd tell her own children about a world lost, and she wondered if they'd ever be able to grasp the enormity of it.

 

Taeval breathed out a sigh and wiped his hand over his face, wiping away the mix of rain and tears, bowing his head. His reaction sent a fresh ache ricocheting between her ribs and she looked away, fingers digging into her palms while she fought to keep control. Her companions were nowhere to be seen; Bear and Lena had long since exited the square, and Chris was no doubt head-first in a sweet shop.

 

Taeval: Do you ever wonder when it's going to stop hurting?  

 

Sienelis: All the time.

 

A weak laugh huffed past her lips and she looked back to her brother. He'd found a wan smile from somewhere, and laid his arm across her shoulders, pulling her close for another quick squeeze. Valesha echoed the gesture with an arm around his waist, swallowing against tears once again.

 

She wasn't alone anymore. 

 

There weren't the words to describe how complete the loss of Romulus had been. Every connection to the people, places and things in her life, from the profound to passing, gone. Destroyed in the flames of a supernova. Her entire life obliterated, her future cast into a completely alien society. Even as she'd rebuilt her family — found a new best friend in Caedan, fallen in love with Chris, let Bear grow on her like a fungus — there was always a lingering sense of isolation. None of them understood. How could they? 

 

Taeval: Come on. Let's sit down and you can tell me what happened after that. Where've you been? What have you been doing?

 

Sienelis: I, um... ::Dark eyebrows quirked upward, and she offered a sheepish smile.:: I joined Starfleet.

 

Their brief journey toward the table stopped there, as Taeval dropped his arm and took a step back to regard her. Disbelief led the parade of reactions that marched across his face, followed by concern, a touch of dismay, and then amusement took up the rear. Zeron had said as much, but somehow he hadn't quite believed it.

 

Taeval: Are you trying to [...] Father off, or is it just a happy coincidence?

 

Sienelis: Happy coincidence. ::Her grin was fleeting, swift to evolve into a frown.:: So you know he's alive, too?

 

Her brother nodded and paused to pick his answer carefully, their father ever a source of conflicted emotions for the twins. But before he found the words, her communicator buzzed and a familiar voice snapped through it.

 

O. Marshall: =/\= Marshall to Sienelis. =/\=

 

Instinct demanded she snap at him for interrupting. The tenor of his voice stopped that instinct in its tracks. A subtle inflection that made her heart skip all the way up into her throat, her breath catching in her chest.

 

Sienelis: =/\= What's wrong?  =/\=

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis

Science Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

Taeval tr'Sienelis

Refugee

Centennial City

T238401QR0

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[JP] Lt. Marshall & Lt. JG Josett - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part XVI)

((A short while earlier: Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V))

 

Despite the rain, the streets of the Romulan quarter found a little liveliness in them. Where the buildings dilapidated buildings lacked in maintenance, flags wrapped around or flowers sprouted from the dishevelled brickwork. Bear huddled a little tighter in his greatcoat as the rain continued to patter down from on high, forming puddles where the cobbled streets dipped through years of overuse. Small flowering plants grow in between the broken flags, stretching for the sky and sun where it was out, nature trying to retake the masonry for itself. 

 

Walking beside Lena, his pirate’s mood had taken a downward spiral since they’d arrived there for the morning meeting. Where perpetual cheer and an effervescent personality filled in the cheeky grin to the brim, it lacked the same lustre, and the sparkle in her amber eyes faded. Through a soaked beard, he smiled in a brace against the cool and bumped Lena’s shoulder with his. 

 

O. Marshall: You can talk to me, you know. 

 

She gave him a sidelong glance, a crooked grin and a wry glint in amber eyes. Somewhere below that [...]sure attitude and jovial demeanour, she knew it. Last night, between the quick-fire banter, there'd been an undercurrent of... something more. Care that went deeper than two fair-weather lovers careening through a partnership for the fun of it, enjoying it while it lasted, waiting for the day one of them wanted to move on.

 

And she railed against it.

 

Josett: About?

 

O. Marshall: About what’s bothering you. I don’t think I’ve seen you nearly frown this much since we ran out of rum on the Do' joH.

 

Josett: Those were dark days. ::She chuckled, flicking her rain-soaked curls over her shoulder.:: Still need to replace the emergency brandy, come to think about it.

 

O. Marshall: There’s still space if you replace the coolant for vodka. Romulan ale for the warp plasma. ::He reached for the back of his neck as a raindrop slicked down his nape.:: And there’s no telling what you keep in those definitely not smuggling holes. 

 

Josett: Definitely not. Structural oddities that have absolutely never housed the Crown Jewels of Mosete Four.

 

Her husband grinned at the thought of the pirate stuffing the assorted royal finery into secret spaces hidden within her beloved shuttlepod, and somehow the mental image had her still wearing a pair of the glinting jewelled earrings when the port authorities showed up. Taking her refusal as red that talking about it would not happen, Bear inhaled the crisp wet air and looked up in the direction they were heading in. 

 

O. Marshall: It’s the greeting I wish I’d got from Jo when we got back. Apart from the family dinner, she’s still not spoken to me, and I’m not sure what to do about it. 

 

Walking alongside him, Lena cast a look in his direction, ridged brow raised. Family wasn't something either of them talked about much. Hers were dead or estranged, and his were... unconventional. To hear him volunteer, the thought caught her off-guard, and the usually quick-witted hybrid didn't know how to respond. Rain pattered against the leather-like material of her jacket, filling the brief silence, and she did the only thing that came to mind — push the conversation back toward him.

 

Josett: What's going on with you two?

 

O. Marshall: Hard to say. We used to be close, then I went to the Academy, away from home… ::He trailed off, shaking his head as he looked into the middle distance to nowhere in particular.:: I didn’t go back to Volan III much after that, and I don’t think she’s ever really forgiven me for it. 

 

A few more footsteps splashed against wet paving, and Lena jammed her hands inside her pockets. Questions of piracy and crime she was comfortable with, the complicated entanglements of family she was not. She had no frame of reference, save for a few hazy memories of a mother she cherished, and a few razor-sharp memories of a father she wished she could forget. 

 

Josett: You could try the patented Josett Manoeuvre. Turn up at her door with a bottle of something ruinous and see what happens.

 

O. Marshall: The last time I did that, she threw a cup at me. 

 

He flicked an eyebrow to her with a small grin twitching at the corner of his lips, and slipped his arm through the loop of hers, returning his hand to his pocket. Let it never be said they walked around a town in the rain under the glow of neon advertisements holding hands, of all things so pedestrian as that.

 

O. Marshall: Maybe one day, with you as a hybrid shield. 

 

Josett: Well, you know me. ::She grinned at him, though it remained muted.:: Willing to fling myself headlong into danger and flying crockery. 

 

O. Marshall: My parents like you. 

 

Josett: Who doesn't?

 

O. Marshall: Sometimes, I don’t think you do. 

 

Rarely had anything so quickly and efficiently wiped the grin from her face. As Bear looked to Lena, following Bajoran ridges like a ladder to amber eyes, he frowned, losing focus, and looking over her shoulder instead. The momentary flare of cobalt, like the skin of an Andorian caught his attention. Then the neon light advertising the “Bolian Brewhouse” threw off a soft outer glow through the rain onto the street. She followed his gaze, searching the street for whatever had caught his attention, grateful for the distraction as a cold briar of brambles wound itself around her heart.

 

Josett: What is it?

 

O. Marshall: I thought I saw that Andorian from the diner. ::He skimmed his hand through his hair, sending a spray of water in all directions.:: The one with the weird eyes. 

 

Her gaze grew a little sharper, flickering around the potential hiding spots and vanishing alleys. Zeron had caught them out before, leveraging local knowledge that neither she or Bear had, and he'd been a friend. The kethead hadn't been the most subtle of creatures, but that didn't mean he couldn't be wily. 

 

Josett: I can't see anyone, but we've already found out that doesn't mean much here. We should keep away from the back streets.

 

O. Marshall: Avoids an ushaan-tor in the d—

 

He stopped dead, looking up through the haze of the rain at the narrowed beam in front of them, coming from the roof of the building above. Orange and lancing through the dim light, the round circular targeting dot lit up the front of Lena’s jacket where her sternum lay behind, and Bear’s heart leapt solidly into his throat. 

 

O. Marshall: Lena. ::He said it slowly, like an out-breath.:: Don’t move. 

 

 

TBC

 

--

Lieutenant Orson Marshall

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

 

&

 

Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

Link to comment

[JP] Lt. Sienelis, Lt. Marshall, Lt. JG Josett & Taeval - Romulans, Countrymen and Lovers (Part XVII)

((Little Ki Baratan, Ketar V))

 

Releasing a breath in a slow, steady stream, she met Bear's gaze with a resigned glint of amusement and a stiff grin. The thin pencil of light flickering through the raindrops caught her notice — and even if it had not, the look in his eyes was more than enough to send her heart beating a drum roll against her ribs. There was no cover, no way to easily break the sniper's line of sight, the escalation unexpected.

 

Josett: I think I'm with the Romulan. I hate this planet.

 

He wanted to agree, but the roll of thunder cracking through his chest was enough to drain anything but a nod away. They needed to swap places, and they needed to do it quickly. His coat would absorb more of the shot, he was bigger. It would give Lena a chance to make a run for it. 

 

O. Marshall: In a rare display of public affection, darling, I think you should hug me. 

 

An unfamiliar spike of hesitation rooted the hybrid to the spot, seeing his plan for what it was. Concern for Bear fought with her usual self-interest and survival instincts, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she realised if it was Ollie proposing to put himself between her and the phaser beam, she wouldn't have thought twice. Chasing away a grimace with a grin, she held out her hand toward him in a casual, languid movement.

 

Josett: If you die horribly, I'll make up an epic tale of heroism and sacrifice to tell your family. Won't be a dry eye in the house.

 

O. Marshall: Embellish all you like, they’ll never believe a word. 

 

She reached for him and he reached for her, an arm around her waist and his hand slipping into waves of dark curls at her nape. Eyes closing, he turned his back toward the calculated trajectory the beam would take. Bear heard the shot and the sizzle as it cut through the rain, burning it to steam...

 

...and saw the second shooter from the alley the Andorian had darted into, weapon aimed at Lena and the beam of the disruptor dissipating through the air. She breathed out an incredulous laugh, the smooth slide into his arms ending in a clumsy collision. The hybrid sagged to one side in an attempt to hold on to him, one arm refusing to oblige and hanging limp by her side. 

 

Josett: That didn't go— ::She sucked in a sharp gasp as fire burned through her torso, tortured nerves finally catching up to the reality of their situation.:: Oh, f— ::And her breath whooshed back out in a bubbling wheeze.::

 

Bear reached for his weapon, drawing it in time to fire an unwieldy shot at the direction the second had come from, hitting bare brick and not much else. Another shot rang out as Lena sagged in his arms, dragging Bear to his knees with her. The blast from the rifle behind shot overhead and dissipated into the cobbles. He swore under his breath as the phaser clattered to the ground, heart trying its best to rip out of his shoulders, his hands grasping for a hold on to her and his boots slipping on the slick stone.   

 

O. Marshall: Lena, stay with me. Stay with me. We’re going to move, just hang on. 

 

She exhaled a wet laugh, a trill of disbelief and desperation ringing through it, one hand grasping hold of him, as though he were a lifebuoy. It was like being a guest in her own body, limbs and muscles refusing to work as she wanted them to, the most basic attempts to move lost in a firestorm of pain.

 

Josett: I told you— ::Words stopped and started between breaths, all of it an effort.:: Blaze of glory or bad decisions. This isn't either.

 

O. Marshall: No, it isn’t. ::He choked out a laugh, catching it at the last second before it got into his eyes, the rainstorm cracked overhead..:: So if you die on me, I’ll kill you. 

 

Panic skidded into his bones and muscle as he tried to think of the next logical move they had to make. Get out of there, out of the line of sight, without knowing where the Andorian was, or who else could have weapons aimed at them. Either he picked Lena up, and they set off, or any moment now the second shooter would line up another shot and they’d both be down. 

 

Bear hooked his arm beneath her knees and lifted her to him, scrambling on the inky black stones, and bolted for the cover of a nearby shop, just in time for the third shot to whizz down and exploded the handheld phaser to pieces. Satisfied they were at least out of the eye-line of the rooftop assassin, it still exposed them to the empty street if he retraced their steps. Running for it was the only option. He fumbled for the combadge in his pocket as he kissed Lena’s head through dark curls. 

 

O. Marshall: =/\= Marshall to Johns. Chris, where the hell are you? =/\=

 

Silence responded, the signifying croak of a communication unable to find the intended recipient on the other end. No time to think about that, Bear swore under his breath again and bundled Lena up against him. Rain smacking down into the cobblestones, dripping from to the overhang, the crackle of thunder in the sky above, and the neon lights flickering. Somehow, he had to get them back. 

 

O. Marshall: =/\= Marshall to Sienelis. =/\=

 

Sienelis: =/\= What's wrong?  =/\=

 

Maybe it was something in his voice, maybe she figured that he wouldn't bother her for nothing — either way, there was no accusation in her answer and a definite note of concern. His heart slammed against his ribs as Bear looked for Lena’s stashed phaser, his eyes peeled on the streets surrounding, waiting for the Andorian kethead to come out of the shadows. 

 

O. Marshall: =/\= Lena’s been shot and we’re being tailed. I need somewhere to get to and I need it now. =/\=

 

She started to answer, then there was a pause, just enough time for a quick exchange between brother and sister.

 

Sienelis: =/\= Where are you? =/\=

 

Coordinates, he should’ve memorised the map of the place, learned all the exits and mapped a strategy out of the town in case of… He shook his head, looking for anything that could mark them, and looked up at the sign above the overhang. 

 

O. Marshall: =/\= Outside a place called Votrosa. =/\=

 

Another pause, and then this time it wasn't Valesha who answered. Taeval's mild tenor spoke through the open channel. The man’s voice could calm a herd of wild Lopp on the Bajor plains. 

 

Taeval: =/\= Go inside. Valine should be in there. She's a gentle soul, she'll not know what to do with you, but tell her you're meeting me and to let you into the basement. We can meet you there. =/\=

 

O. Marshall: =/\= Right. Make it quick. =/\=

 

The communication cut and Bear took an unsteady breath, slipping Lena’s phaser from her holster and adjusted the setting higher. Panic slid away to anger. Fear ceded ground to rage. If they wanted him, they could come and get him. But touching Lena was going to get an Andorian killed. 

 

 

fin (for now)

 

--

Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis

Science Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

Lieutenant Orson Marshall

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

 

&

 

Lieutenant (JG) Lena Josett

Intelligence Officer

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0

 

&

 

Taeval tr'Sienelis

Refugee

Centennial City

T238401QR0

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