Commodore Jalana Rajel - You shouldn't be here

[Dizmim ChNilmani]

(( Somewhere, somewhen, or nowhere ))

 

Bright sunlight shone down on her face as she turned her head backwards to receive the warmth. The chirping and call of the sea birds floated into her ears and a gentle salty breeze brushed over her skin. It was a perfect moment. As she opened her eyes the purple water spread as far as one could see, sparkling like diamonds in the reflection of the sun. As her eyes moved to the side faint at the edge of the horizon she could see two moons above the Korchub mountains. It had been a good idea to come to Trill. Holodecks could depict this really well but there was nothing like actually coming home.

 

The sound of moving sand behind her barely announced the visitor before arms wrapped around her. The feeling of comfort as she leaned back was soothing and she placed her hand on the arm around her waist or tried to. It landed on her own waist. A breeze came from behind pushing hair into her face.

 

Voice: You shouldn't be here.

 

It was a whisper in a familiar voice right next to her ear. Her eyes widened as she jumped around, but there was nothing. It had clearly been Viktor. The one person she never ever wanted to see again. But as she looked around the beach she was alone. Jalana blinked in confusion but then shook her head. It must have been the wind playing tricks on her.

 

Turning once more she looked at the Marketplace in front of her, wares displayed in all the colours of the spectrum. Fruit and Vegetables, spices, clothing and knick-knacks. It didn't occur to her that there had not been a market on the ocean before. It was supposed to be here. Strolling along the booths she picked up a Bajoran jumja stick from a sweets stand and suckled on the sweet confection as she continued her walk.

 

The cascade of all shades under the sky lured her closer. While she hadn't even attempted to sew clothing or even curtains in this life, the memories of the runways, the studios, the long hours of designing, sewing, changing.. they were all vividly replaying in her mind.

 

Her fingertips ran over the fabric, feeling the texture of the weaving as her eyes rested on the gentle reflection of the light on the pattern. Another bolt of fabric got her attention, the multichrome semi-transparent fabric seemed to move with the slightest motion of her body and as she reached out it was smooth. So smooth that she couldn’t feel any texture at all. She unrolled a bit of the bolt and held it against the light. How was it possible to make fabric without visible weaving?

 

She blinked. She had the feeling she'd done this again, seen this before, but couldn't remember where and when. Deja vus were normal for Trills but this didn't feel like a past life memory.

 

Merchant: You shouldn't be here.

 

Raising her green gaze she looked at the woman behind the piles of fabric.

 

Rajel: Pardon?

 

Merchant: I said it's thirty credits a ball.

 

Jalana was sure she had heard something else but nodded and after a moment she reached out to press her finger on the pad. It beeped as it denied the charge. The Merchant slapped the tool mumbling about it always causing issues. When she turned it to Jalana again the running text that listed her order read "You shouldn't be here". Jalana blinked shaking her head but once she looked again it just listed the ball of fabric. This time when she put her thumb on the pad it worked and she grabbed the fabric under her arm and continued her way.

 

She did notice that people kept looking at her as she passed by as if she had grown a second head. As if they knew something about her she didn't. As if... she shouldn't be here. It ran cold down her spine and she tried to ignore the people as she suckled on her jumja stick again until someone walked straight up to her. To someone's that were one, Bynars.

 

Bynar1: You shouldn't

 

Bynar2: be here.

 

Rajel: Why does everyone keep telling me that?

 

The scene suddenly changed and she stood in a dim light surrounded by metal and what looked like market booths, but it was not the same market. The soft hum of the floor under her feet was something she usually couldn't feel or hear. This was a space station. Was this 104? She walked through a gasp between booths, there was nobody here. What was this? As she turned around again she could see a shape of a person in the light cone before she stepped forward. A woman, with pitch-black eyes. She looked oddly familiar but Jalana couldn't put a name to her face. The woman grabbed her at her shoulders.

 

Woman: Wake up. You need to wake up!

 

But Jalana didn't. The woman let go and the little light that had been around her turned off with loud clunking sounds like someone switched a lever to make it happen. She opened her mouth to call out but not a single sound came from her mouth and in that pitch-black void around her she couldn't see a thing... but she had a distinct feeling that they had been right.

 

She shouldn't be here.

 

-----

Commodore Jalana Rajel
Commanding Officer
USS Constitution B
Image Team Co-Facilitator
A238906JL0