PLOT - JDL | CDR Valeese, LCDR Stacker | "Figments and Whispers" pt 2/2

Posted on Wed Apr 4th, 2018 @ 8:10pm by Commander Valeese Stacker & Commander James Stacker
Edited on on Wed Apr 4th, 2018 @ 8:20pm

Mission: Lacuna

The apparition's fingers came up in a peace sign, her elbow tucking back to rest on her hip. "I'd make a quip about Samson and Delilah, but it's not quite fitting." Valeese sniffed, indifferent to his irritation, "I mean really... I can't decide whether or not whether you've been empowered or crippled... I'm listing pretty heavily towards empowered, though." She sighed, once again conjuring up the maple leaf and carefully cycling it between her fingers, her head coming to rest in her free hand, its elbow rooted to his desk top, "Shakespeare comes to mind; though she be but little, she is fierce." The vesper offered, flicking her eyes once more in his direction, "Escape isn't an option unless Si'a can go too, but buying time and stalling... Those are tricks and tools to be used. You just have to keep faith that no one, well, you know..." The lead was drug across her pallid throat, its brilliant sanguine more that shocking against the warm porcelain of her complexion. Point made. "Get me, her, back and you'll have a chance to make it a lot harder for this to happen again. You just have to decide how far you're willing to go, Commander Feelings." The leaf settled against her full lower lip, "It's darkest just before first light."

His eyes were on the leaf, but his mind was elsewhere. He knew the sentiment well: had lived it, walked with it, known it well. Hearing it again took his mind back to some very bad places, at very bad times. New Liberty. Viery. Budapest IV. Somehow, no matter how grim the odds had seemed, the dawn had always managed to come around again. In all those cases, though, someone else had been responsible for making the magic happen. Oh to be sure credit had been shared around, in more than one case for desperate defenses or last-ditch gambits that seemed to pay off. Now, though ... now he had to make his own magic. And if it worked... I'm not leaving her side. The trail of bodies will be six feet deep by the end, and nobody will want to harm her by the time I'm done. Somehow, that seemed grimly fitting.

His eyes lifted to meet 'hers.' And he gave a nod. "Point taken."

She nodded emphatically before tucking a wavy lock of raven back behind a pointed ear tip, "Figured it would be. You're still sharp as a tack, old man." Another smile, the leaf set down, "Now you know the who, you sorta know the why, definitely know the how... You keep watching that surveillance loop and it's going to burn itself into your brain, by the way." Valeese tutted a warning with a wag of a pointed index finger, then continued, "... Know what's left? How to get in to that damn auction. You'll need some serious latinum. Gotta play it cool, secure the package, then rain hell on the way out the door or else you'll get everyone, and I do mean everyone, killed." The sentiments ended with a sigh and a dramatic flopping of her body onto its back, "I think we've established that you want me alive afterwards so... How does the bull tip toe around the china shop? You don't exactly finesse real well, jar head."

An understatement if I ever heard one. There was a reason they always assigned me as a heavy gunner back in my enlisted days. There was a faint recollection that came with it, of violence. It amounted to little more than a whisper, but in a way was soothing to the ghost. Yes, he could do this again. There would be brutality, and bodies. People would be injured. Others would die. Whomever had gone after "his" Val would be made to pay. But that's in the future. Focus on the now... And then it came to him. "Well if I can't finesse well, there must be someone else who can." The arms behind his back stilled as he thought. His jaw twitched and rolled in unconscious signs of focus and concentration - then stopped. "The Vindicator's intelligence officer might be a good place to start. I certainly can't think of anyone aboard this place skilled enough in clandestine ops to play a high roller."

"The other Jimmy, son of Admirals... He's smarmy enough to get the job done." Valeese nodded in happy agreement, "Send the Andorian in with him. If he can keep a level head, he'll provide focus. Those ocular implants of his see in a whole variety of ways, including infrared." More nodding, thoughtful, deep, heavy concentration, "Could be put to good use and help keep Si'a calm on the way home which gives me time of focus on being safe and healing, if I need to heal, rather than worrying." Her fingers steepled together as she spoke, "Guess you'll have to learn how to play well with others again." The idea of turning a man loose like him was a hard one to swallow. Bucking bulls often were brutish out of sheer genetics and loving to buck. Once they dislodged their rider, an irritant, they tended to lope off back to their pens to live their lives. Occasionally there would be one that bucked for reasons far more sinister. These animals aimed to dislodge their rider for the sole reason of destroying them. These were widow makers, cowboy killers, and there - pensive as anything - was just such a bull. This was no longer a game to him. "Once this is over you'll stop?" She asked, letting her hands fall to her diaphragm, "You'll stop hunting and start living life? If you become consumed, you'll lose in the long run. Eight years, James..." She sighed, "You're finally feeling the sun again after eight loooooong years. There's more to lose now."

He almost said something. It was there, on the tip of his tongue ... and then it was gone. He felt it flying away, to a great and far-off distance, and when it left it took something of himself with it. And then he felt ... sadness. James' eyes closed, and for a long time he was silent. His chest moved regularly, and his nostrils moved enough to indicate that he was breathing. And his hands were unmoving: clasped, silent, still. Seconds passed. Minutes. Finally he heaved one deep sigh and reopened them, running a tongue across parched lips before speaking. "I can't make that guarantee. The sunlight has been wonderful. You've been wonderful. I've laughed, and smiled, and felt joy again in a way that I never thought I'd experience. So for that, I'm thankful ... maybe in a way you'll never know." His head turned slightly, and he regarded her coolly, out of one eye. "Just know, that if I don't come back the same as when you left, you did bring joy into my life for a small time. But now I have to go, Val. I ... miss you." A single tear worked its way down his cheek, and he bowed his head in grief.

She shifted, sitting and scooting until she was able to slip off the desk and join him, wrapping her arms around his waist and tucking her head against his chest. "I know..." She whispered, the foggy wisps of her beginning to dissolve, to absorb back into the eventide of his psyche. "Deep down, I know." Her eyes, still bright as anything, peered up towards his agonized face, watching those stormy eyes and the way the muscles of his jaw flexed as he worked to catch himself, "Falling in the magic 'L' word that you seem to be allergic to, is hard on the knees, James, unless the other party catches you mid-flight." She hummed and breathed against him, fading steadily like the morning fog, "There will be sun. There will be sun." And then, like the stars giving way to the dawn, she was gone.

James was still standing there minutes later, when Warrant Officer Parsuv found him. Hands clasped behind his back, head bowed, seemingly staring at the deck plates. He didn't respond when his name was called. The second time his name was said, he stirred, and when his head rose the look in his eyes was cold and grey. "Sir ... we've got something."

The two of them quickly exited the compartment. Leaving behind a solitary tear stain on the deck plate.

---

Lieutenant Commander James Stacker
Chief Intelligence Officer
COLD STATION THETA, SB-1170

the figment of Commander Valeese
Chief Medical Offcer
COLD STATION THETA, SB-1170