JL | Cmdr Valeese, LtCmdr Stacker | "Crickets" pt 1

Posted on Sat Oct 14th, 2017 @ 12:22am by Commander Valeese Stacker & Commander James Stacker

Chirp. Chirp... Chirp

Valeese's ears twitched towards the foreign sound of night. It was an insect she vaguely remembered from her youth, leagues and years away, during a time so much simplier than the one she now found herself trapped within. Cricket. Latin name Gryllidae, belonging to the order orthoptera. Winged insect. Ancient Terrans had the creative flare of Vulcans, and the same amount of humor none the less. The bright violet of her eyes flashed with momentary recognition before the stars stole the show once more and she gave herself fully to the embrace of sun warmed grass as it began to cool in the artificial night. Arboretums had always enchanted her, brought Valeese back to the calm certainty of a life far simpler than political subterfuge tainted by physicals and questions regarding drug use. They gave a taste of freedom and normalcy which, for a Vorta, was almost comical. The last time her race had been truly free, in every sense of the word, they were still still swinging from trees and squabbling over nuts and berries. Nothing better than pouty faced bush babies.

That had been a long time ago, far far far earlier along the time line than she cared to trace. She hadn't been born yet, ancient history was just that - especially when one's bloodlines had been tainted so very badly by years of selective breeding and cloning combined to create someone else's idea of perfection. Her nose wrinkled at the thought, banishing it as her left ear, so sensitive and shell like, honed in on another array of sounds. Foot steps? Breathing? At first she thought it may have been a deer, how slow and elegant each foot fall was - but the cadence was off... Even if the creature responsible was pausing every few strides. Whatever it was, it was bipedular, not a quadruped, she was certain. Such a shame, she almost pouted, seeing one of the station's fabled creatures. Fleet Admiral Red had created an oasis, a paradise far away from the reaches of civilized life - and one would ask why if it wasn't for the understanding that the entire place, the arboretum, was a great big giant middle finger to those who would use this region of space for ill will.

It had nearly cost the woman her life.

Back to sounds, to crickets, to the breathing, to the sudden realization that there were eyes on her as she lay, sprawled, in the grass. There was no malice there, and even if there was... She'd do what she could to thwart it, the pen blade clipped to the forward valley of her bra would easily be enough to convince an assailant to leave her be. This particular one, though... Tough cookie. Somehow she doubted A.) that he'd attack, and B.) that he'd be convinced to go away by a silly pen knife. Now the question became whether or not to ignore them or to out them - outing them seemed a treat. The crickets chirp silenced, sacrificing its song for self preservation as the person came to close. Out them. "You can't spy on a Vorta." Valeese sighed, rolling onto her side to face the direction of the heartbeat, "We hear everything and we can tell if you're naughty or nice."

He wasn't about to admit to her that the truth of it was, at least from his perspective, far worse.

He had originally been drawn here for another reason: an arboretum was an anomaly. Stacker was too young to have served on the old Galaxy-class explorers, which had been among the last vessels to include a full-sized botanical garden of such size and magnitude. He'd seen pictures, of course: almost a third of Deck 7 had been given over to hydroponics, a botanical garden, and a mall/grotto, which meant that people had of course taken pictures of the rows after rows of flowers and manicured hedges. He couldn't blame them: he certainly would've done the same thing.

Yet they were nothing compared to Cold Station Theta. Clearly from inception, someone in the design and planning process had been bound and determined to create an oasis on the edge of the frontier. There were trees, footpaths, hedges and shrubbery; he even thought he'd glimpsed a lagoon, big enough to have its own boat docks. He'd done nothing but walked ever since arriving, letting the sunlight warm his face and remind him of the even-more-scorching Barolian sun. Like all good things, though, it had changed. The station's rotation slowly slid the arboretum into darkness, and the stars took hold.

Sighing to himself, he'd reached into his pocket and drawn out the blinder prescribed by the doctor. He'd been keenly aware that there would be talk about it, right from the start. The station was still operating on only a skeleton crew, although new bodies continued to trickle in, and as a result it was starved for the drama and change that came with a full-strength crew. What he hadn't expected, though, was that the leading question was going to be if there were pirates loose in the sector. Looking down at the eyepatch with the strap, now, he could see how that might be thought. But the suggestion was a good one, and so he kept walking, irregularly, while he fumbled and put it on, blinking as he found himself completely blinded on one side.

Looking around, he was investigating this newfound - albeit temporary - interference when he saw a shadow in the grass, and a sudden question popped into his mind. He couldn't recall if there were predators in the arboretum. At first thought he didn't think it likely, but then again he'd seen prints in the dirt earlier that were clearly not from any creature he was familiar with. Blinking, he'd started to squat down when the voice came ringing in out of the darkness. From the shadow. Of course like any good intelligence officer he had an equally-good memory, and sighed to himself. Again.

"I'm sure Starfleet Intelligence must be quaking in their boots right now, Doctor. Portable lie detectors have bedeviled us for years."

"Yes. I'm sure they have." She retorted as her eyes finally focused. In the dark, the tables were turned. She was in her element and her eyes, in homage to their bright coloration, became more than just a nuisance and bore. Rubbing them, Valeese was pleased as punch that she could finally see clearly - the point of day that she always found fascinating. While the rest of the station began to settle in for the night, she was able to truly come alive and become on more than sensation to fully navigate and explore. Of course that meant coming to grips with and realizing that not everything was the same in the darkness, and the station was never dark. Just the arboretum, maybe the star lounge, a club or two - though those would kill her highly tuned ears as she could often hear them when decks away - and that was hardly worth getting excited over.

A pale hand lifted as she finally sat up, gesturing in his direction, "I see you're wearing the patch. I approve." Off duty, there was a lot more she could get away with, more buttons to push, more reactions to encounter. The Terrans often wore their emotions on their sleeves, but this one... Total mystery. For the most part, anyway. Much better than stumbling across one of Admiral Red's magnificent deer.

"Yes, I've only been subjected to nine pirate jokes today," he replied, deadpan and still looking towards the shadow that had seemingly changed shape. His one good eye looked away from the 'lump' in the darkness, towards a nearby woodline and, beyond it, the stars, the corner of his mouth quirking in a flash of amusement as he thought back on his day. He'd come to the initial conclusion that the engineers were the worst of the lot, but when he'd walked back into the intelligence compartments after lunch ... "I've since been told that beards and eye patches were hallmarks of old Earth piracy. My education on the subject is no doubt going to develop in leaps and bounds."

The good eye went back to her, eyebrow lifting over it, humor creeping into his voice. "Please don't tell me this was a subtle way of suggesting a career change."

"Relax, Captain Flint, I'd never dream of suggesting you give up the gray collar for black sails." Though the idea was comical and amusing even to the straight laced little Vorta. Valeese's head tilted as she studied the beginning lines of his face, the ones just beginning to be caught by the residual starlight, and considered the patch that marred her view of his injured eye. Maybe he did look like Terran pirates of old. His close cropped beard and adjoining mustache certainly gave credence to the jokes made at his expense. All he needed was a frock coat and tri-corner hat and one of those birds... Parrot... Macaw? Macaw. "Unless, of course, plundering booty is your idea of a good time. Who would I be to try and stop you from living your dreams?"

Since when did Robert Louis Stephenson become required reading for Vorta? It was hard to keep a straight face. The best he could do was roll his eye and sigh, misdirecting his surprise into something closer to mixed-surprise-and-exasperation. "I see the conspiracy is spreading... Yes, you're all onto me. Clearly plundering booty is more my style. Maybe I should go fetch my brace of pistols and storm operations." They'd probably think I'd cracked he almost added as his surprise was forgotten, biting his lip to restrain himself. Wouldn't that be interesting? A cracked lieutenant commander with delusions of piracy. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he sat in the still-somewhat-warm grass nearer to her.

He was smiling, a smile just a hare's breath away from being an actual, full blown, unabashed smile. Perhaps she was a horrible influence on people after all, what with her wry humor and distaste for most things, the young Vorta was as dry and cynical as the came. Not that her present company appeared to mind. A man with his demons being allowed spare moments of humor... She'd not be the one to deny him even if he was her potential undoing. "If you do decide to go down that route, I suggest you do it when Commander Satie is on watch," She nodded sagely, as if in secret knowing of some clandestine knowledge, "And wear a recording device of some form. I could likely rig one into your eye patch and then just take it off you when they send you down to have your brain examined." Thought her face threatened to betray her own good humor, she did what was necessary to keep it dialed down just enough. It didn't keep her mirth from showing brightly in her eyes as she spoke and continued to rib him along, "I know a Ferengi or two that would pay my weight in latinum for that recording. DiAgessi they won't touch. Her mother is a tad too frightening for them, pissing her off isn't exactly profitable." Her fingers idly twirled the soft tips of grass in front of her.

He laid back in the grass, single eye looking up at the sweeping expanse of stars-and-station-hullmetal that loomed just outside the arboretum, hovering on the edge of a smile ... and slowly backed away from the edge as a comment or two registered. Not that he wasn't still amused, though. "Good thing medical would be aware of the plan. I can imagine just how bad the reaction might be." His head shifted, grass brushing his hair and the back of his neck as his eye surveyed her, catching a glimpse of what looked like humor. Interesting... "Although the latinum would be well worth the effort. A pirate kingdom funded in part by Starfleet? Completely worth it."

"Completely." She agreed, watching him languidly relax beside her, "Imagine how much you could extort to take it off the market?" He'd won a grin, a bright, amused, manipulative little grin from a woman that truly had no business sticking around to enjoy the show, "Really now. It would be a thing of absolute beauty. I'm not saying you should do it, but..." She shrugged, plucking a blade of grass and flicking it in his direction, "You should do it."

It brushed across his cheek and nose just as his head was turning upright, towards the stars. Instantly the eye snapped back to look at her, eyebrow raised. "Isn't encouraging violence on the station against medical ethics?" The quirk remained as steady and constant as ever, as he saw her amused grin shining through the darkness. "I mean, not that I care. I could use the target practice." It was a good thing no junior personnel were in earshot, he momentarily thought to himself. They might be getting terrible ideas about senior leadership, by now. Cracked lieutenant commanders storming ops, and Vorta encouraging Ferengi-like extortion. Hmm...

Both of her eyebrows quirked high and her hand made a lofty, grand gesture as she spoke, "Everything is grand and perfectly acceptable in the name of science and medical research." To her it made perfect sense when it came to studying the so-called human element everything had been subjected to from the moment the species joined the Federation. "And then, of course, there's the entertainment value which would come from showing the holo-video to the crew. Commander Satie's expression will undoubtedly be priceless. A morale boosting endeavor." It was her turn to return to the soft nest of grass she'd abandoned when he'd happened upon her, resting easily without a care in their strange little world, "Besides," Valeese all but sighed, "Isn't Halloween right around the corner? Terrans love Halloween. Call it a treat or a trick, whichever you prefer."

"Not me. I answer my door with a phaser rifle." His hand gently brushed across the grass, feeling how cool it was getting now that daylight had been temporarily vanquished. It skimmed his palm, making little swipes and teasing at his hand yet doing no lasting damage. From somewhere far away, he heard what sounded like a bird as his eye turned back towards the stars and gentle curves of the station overhead. "Sounds like you've studied Halloween, though. Planning on participating in whatever antics the crew gets up to?"

"I've studied most human holidays, actually, helps me prepare for the result of varying degrees of stupidity. Phaser rifle related injuries included." Valeese's ears twitched towards the sound of his play, listening to the barely perceptible sigh of leaf against skin - it was there and gone, traded for the call of some avian creature she didn't have the proclivity to name. "I can't say that I have a desire to participate. Sweets are great, tricks... Meh." She shrugged, "Last year some poor Ensign found his face filled with the fist of a Klingon after jumping out at him. The mask did nothing to protect his nasal passages." Rolling to face him, she set her jaw in her hand, "Neither one are still aboard the station, but the story has been creeping up again in hope there's not a repeat... Then again, with the new skipper and her lawyer, it's likely we'll all be forced into some... Celebration or another." Another wry grin played at her delicate little features, lighting them as she reached for, and retrieved, a wayward fallen leaf. The trident style was reminiscent of a maple, the color likely resplendent in the light, but her intrigue was more centered around it's leathery skin, "Tell me, Commander, for the sake of propriety, do you do the Monster Mash?" Holding the leaf by it's stem she reached to tap the tip of his nose with it, avidly waiting the response to both the action and the question.

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To Be Continued...
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Commander Valdeese
Chief Medical Officer
Cold Station Theta, SB-1170

Lieutenant Commander James Stacker
Chief Intelligence Officer
Cold Station Theta, SB-1170