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JL | Com Ravnsson, Cmdr Valeese | "Wishful Sinful"

Posted on Sat May 18th, 2019 @ 8:36pm by Commander Valeese

Mission: Permutations

Catching her alone had proven to be a task most interesting as it seemed that one James Stacker had taken it upon himself to have her tailed by a troop of trained apes day and night. It had caught the ire of the gray man from the very moment his aid had informed him of the setback… And then it had turned to pure gold. It had given him a chance to sit and speculate the how and why such precious resources were being spent. At first it was because it was entirely possible that Stacker didn’t trust the Vorta any more than Aksel himself did.

Then came the news that she was sneaking from her quarters to his and vice versa, spending long hours and hardly surfacing unless he came up for air long enough to catch a shift. It was always right back to her just as soon as it was over. It was still entirely possible hat he’d wooed the Vorta for sake of keeping an enemy close and learning all that there was to learn under the false guise of romance. That had been a trick he himself had used more than his fair share of times in the past.

Then came the sneaking suspicion that she was carrying Stacker’s unborn whelp. Her demeanor had changed. Her pattern had changed. She stole down into her office after hours, spent great amounts of time and concealed and deleted all records when it was obvious that she was running diagnostics. Stacker’s men were now his men. The changing of the guard had both protected the so called Ghost and his precious secrets and left them increasingly more vulnerable. The men had learned to answer to him as well out of sheer fear for their jobs and being burned. No one wanted to be burned and everyone wanted the extra accolades that came from reporting to the biggest fish in the pond. The Norseman came to know everything.

Everything.

The stolen glances from across heavily crowded rooms. The way knuckles brushed in passing, even if they were followed by gruff acknowledgments and half-hearted 'excuse me's by way of cover up. Still. She eluded him, always disappearing into the fray before he could truly study her, never staying put in one spot for too long as if she were aware that she was being hunted.

By the time he’d gotten the chance to take a good, hard look at her it was more than obvious that she had indeed been pupped by the two timing bastard. At least it was obvious to Aksel, or rather to those who weren't used to basking in her presence day in and day out. The Vorta's soft porcelain skin glowed from within, set alight by the promise of the new life she harbored within her womb, concealed from those who would have snuffed it out beneath their boot heels if given half a chance. She was blossoming, filling out in all the right places.

It set his blood on fire.

“Commander Valeese, I presume.” He smiled brightly as he rapped his knuckles against the door to her office, letting himself in before she could protest. A closer look was needed, one last chance to confirm suspicion and formulate the necessary plans to eradicate and exterminate such an abomination. “I was wondering if you could help me with something? You see… My hands are quite stiff some mornings and I’d rather not let it progress to full arthritis if I can help it. I’ve heard that you can work miracles.” Charming as ever he came to rest a short distance from her, holding his hands out as if he were examining them.

She, in return, nearly came out of her skin at the deep rolling sound of the El-Aurian’s voice. It shattered her comfortable silence as she sorted through PADDs and continuously updated charts with the new information that continued to pour in. She’d only been back on duty for a handful of weeks since the run in on the moon, most days of which had been punctuated by various forms of morning sickness and a need for juggling meds to try and combat that nasty symptom of her present condition. None of them worked long enough to merit the risk of continuing to take them and so far she’d been lucky enough not to get sick in front of anyone – especially Stacker.

“Commodore, I apologize. I didn’t hear you come in.” She greeted him, praying the wave of nausea generated by her sudden start wouldn’t become much more than a momentary discomfort. The last thing she needed was to lose her lunch in front of him. “Come on in and have a seat, I’ll take a look at those hands for you.” Valeese added with a smile, reaching for a tri-corder.

Aksel complied, taking a seat in front of her desk and laying his hands on the cool wood surface, “You’re very sweet, Commander, most doctors would have told me to make an appointment and come back later. Maybe even cursed me on the way out.” He chuckled, watching her move. Some of her cat-like grace had already been lost, but she still held herself as tall and as proud as someone of her short stature possibly could as if to immediately turn his suspicions into liars. Then there was her lab coat. It was an obstruction, refusing to give him a clear view of her abdomen and he mentally cursed it as she approached. It would call for stronger measures to be taken.

“Most doctors don’t have the bedside manner that I do, Commodore, that’s very true.” She replied, resting against her desk as she ran the diagnostic, “Many develop a bit of a God complex and forget that they’re serving people who have real feelings and emotions that play off of their demeanor.”

“Too right.” He chuckled, pleased as punch that she’d come so close. Close enough that he could smell her; fresh daisies warmed by the summer sun, kissed by a passing storm and a tincture of aged vanilla. She was delicious, almost intoxicating and it left little wonder in his mind as to why Stacker had chosen to be so careless with her, spilling himself in her, breeding her. It was obvious to him now, her jacket had fallen open just enough to give his critical eye a chance to spy the subtle ‘imperfection’ of belly beginning to be stretched by mid-term pregnancy against an otherwise toned body. Even her breasts seemed fuller than he’d last remembered, and the man had an eidetic memory. The question now was why she hadn’t made it known to her superiors, why it wasn’t part of her medical file. What purpose did it serve to keep such a secret when most women became jubilant? Most men too, for that matter, but Stacker showed no signs of the pride most expectant fathers boasted.

A quick shift of her eyes away from the tricorder revealed the man openly studying her, sizing her up, and Valeese shifted uncomfortably away from his gaze under the guise of reading the results and finding supplies. It was as if he’d stared right through her, right through to the child hidden within – and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end… Especially when the results came back that he hadn’t a hint of arthritis or joint disease or inflammation of any kind. “Looks like you’re all clear, Commodore.” She offered, trying to set the perfect smile and paused to button her jacket, “Probably just the way you’re sleeping, sometimes the way you lay can impede blood flow and cause some swelling. I’ll prescribe you an anti-inflammatory anyway.”

“Leave it open.”

Her hands froze on the last button, and she cast a glance over her shoulder to find him looking up at her with those strange gray eyes. “I’m sorry if it offends you but it’s dress co—”

“I practically wrote the dress code, Commander Valeese. Leave it open.” Aksel instructed as he found his feet and crossed the gap between them in three easy strides, “You cannot hide from me, Doctor, I’m a very old man and there are many many tells, even when you say nothing at all,” His hands were upon her, resting gently on her shoulders, “Even your way of standing perfectly still. They were all my spies.” His smile was still off-puttingly kind. With her jacket open, it was easy for him to push it it back from her shoulders, exposing her form to his roving eyes without obstruction. Yes. She was with child. She carried a mutt that could not be allowed to breathe, a mixture of human and heathen that had no place thriving where even its mother was unwelcome. He could kill it then and there, he had the strength and ability to do so and was ever so sorely tempted as he rested his hands against the swell of life within her womb.

The desire to see her empty, to erase Stacker from her was more than heady and apparent, it was righteous. How dare Stacker take from him the unicorn he’d thought gone? Such a threat was his. His to end. But here she was, shining and glowing that exquisite glow that mothers to be exuded. Radiant. Beautiful. Almost tragically so with her delicate face, full lips, and large, wide eyes.

“I… I don’t know what you’re saying.” Valeese’s head shook as she edged backwards from his touch only to be met with the bite of her desk against the small of her back. Not even on her best day was she a match for him. Older, larger, wiser, she didn’t stand a chance and when he touched her, cradled her unborn daughter, she was certain she was about to be sick, “I’m going to need you to sit back down, Commodore.” There was strength to be found in her tone, a command given no matter how silly it seemed for a Commander to be barking at a Commodore. He was out of line, she was frightened, and nothing and no one would dictate to her what she could and couldn’t do to thwart his advances. Her hands grasped his at the wrist, forcing them away from her tender belly, “Right now.”

Wrenched away, his hands rolled to return against her flesh. “At ease, Commander. At ease,” He chuckled, gently stroking her when he wanted nothing more than to destroy and erase every trace of her existence along with that of her pup. Had she not escaped, had she not destroyed everything that he’d worked to achieve, her story would be far different, “I mean you and your child no harm, I simply wish to congratulate you.”

“Stop.” She retorted sharply, pushing against his chest in a demand that he back up when her hand encountered the point of his delta-shaped combadge. The glint of metal caught her eye, singing a song of salvation loud enough that she nearly jumped when the realization struck her and sent a hand sailing to her own as it rested against her chest, “I’m giving you a chance to leave me alone before I call for help, Commodore. You wouldn’t want your career ruined by a lowly Vorta doctor shouting about unwanted advances, would you?” Valeese leveled with him, quirking a brow as she swallowed the building knot in her throat. Any second she was going to puke, or pass out, or both – the weight of him against her stomach wasn’t doing her any additional favors either.

Reaching to gently grasp her chin, Aksel studied her from her face on down to where she lay her fingers upon his combadge. In her eyes he saw fear, he saw fire, and he saw worry. He saw her gallantly doing whatever she could to protect the child, not herself, from harm. There was more than one way to skin a cat, and many of them absolved him from blame of any kind. “As you wish, my dear. I meant you no harm. Just an old man excited by the prospect of new life in this rather dull part of space.” He released her, taking a step away from her and setting about straightening his uniform, “Just know that you play on my playground, Valeese, not the other way around.”

“Duly noted.” She quipped tersely in return, sucking in a breath of air now that his weight had left her body and relieved her back from the pressure of her desk against it. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Commodore. Please see yourself out.” Her knees were shaking, but Valeese wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her worked up or weakened by his insanity or what she perceived to be a thinly veiled threat against her. She wouldn’t let him see the way her mind began to work at about a million miles a minute, knowing that the time to leave had finally come. “Please.”

Another tug of his tunic and shake of his head, and the El-Aurian was gone the same way he came. Message made, point taken. The game was in his favor. No sooner did he leave, his footsteps fading down the hall, then Valeese felt her knees give out beneath her and her hands reached wildly for the wastebasket beside her desk with just enough time to get it in front of her before she retched. Crying wouldn't happen. Not then. Not in her office. The last thing she’d need would be for someone to come in and find her cradling a trash basket full of her own vomit while sprawled on the floor in tears. It would lead to questions she wasn’t willing to answer to anyone, not even herself. Pulling herself together would come in short order - another personal day taken when she recycled the trash basket, scrubbed her roster, and delegated patients to nurses and physician's assistants.

Distancing herself from everything, from Stacker, would prove to be difficult... But it was time. It was time.

---

Commodore Aksel Ravnsson
Chief of Starfleet Intelligence
Starfleet

Commander Valeese
Chief Medical Officer
COLD STATION THETA, SB - 1170

 

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