PLOT - JDL | Cmdr Valeese, Lt Dai'xun | "The House of Hope Is Built On Ashes"
Posted on Tue May 8th, 2018 @ 2:56am by Commander Valeese Stacker
Mission: Lacuna
Si’a had woken up screaming. It wasn’t just screaming, it was a shrill, horrible, mournful cry wrapped around the name of her lover. Over and over again, regardless of anything Valeese had tried, the Stenellis had begged him not to go or to return or to get her out of the hell she found herself in upon waking. Of course, it had attracted unwanted attention. The Orions swept into the hold like a great wave, grabbing the panicked little woman and hefting her up in spite of every single one of Valeese’s protests. About the time that the boss back handed her, sending the Vorta to the deck with a bleeding lip, Si’a had started a distress call that echoed down the hall as they took her from that hold and disappeared into the unknown with her. It stopped a short while after that, leaving Valeese to her own worry and panic which quickly escalated into hyperventilation as she fought to control her emotions, the shaking, the all-encompassing fear that came with being separated from Si’a and left to rot in that Gods forsaken space.
That had been about an hour ago.
When the Orions returned it wasn’t with anger, it was in greed. They snatched her up and drug her down the corridor and she, stupidly, bucked, kicked, and fought each step of the way. To them her protests were amusing and it took no time at all to haul her into a room where she was given a crude bath by a group of females of various races, ‘fixed’ as best as they could heal her, stood up naked for makeup to be applied – blending away all of her bruises and injuries that still remained… And then clothed in the skimpiest, yet flashiest, garb she’d ever worn. It barely covered anything, revealed her midriff and back and her legs from hip to heel were exposed, leaving her most feminine bites covered with billowing… Chiffon? Sure. Chiffon. Didn’t matter. There were rhinestones and zills that accentuated her every movement with a flash of playing light and the tinkling of metal coins and bells. Soft lavender in color, it brought out the porcelain paleness of her skin and undoubtedly the bright violet of her eyes.
She was miserable.
A collar, ornate as anything, was fastened around her neck and locked and attached to it was a delicate chain. Delicate in appearance only, that was, as it was used to jerk and lead her down a cargo ramp and through what could only be described as torture. It was loud, people leered, men touched and were quickly punished for handling the goods without paying for it first. Some screamed threats. Some made crude gestures – it would have been easier to close her eyes and let her handlers guide her feet, but Valeese had never done anything the easy way. She met them head on – eye to eye. The gestured, she rolled those eyes. They leered, she sighed. They threatened, she glowered. It only served to drive them wilder with promises to bid and win. Some to kill. Some to possess. Some to fuck. Didn’t matter the purpose, if Stacker didn’t show up first she’d do what she needed to do to protect her and Si’a, no matter how desperate the act.
Death would be kinder than to let the little Stenellis be bought for those purposes, and when at long last Valeese was placed in a holding cell behind the scenes, she was reunited with her little friend. “I’m sorry…” She offered.
“Don’t be.” Si’a replied, uncurling from her ball-like state in a far corner to look up at the Vorta. She’d been dressed similarly, in turquoise. The dramatic length of her hair had been pulled tight and high into a pony tail and banded in gold segments, showing off the color and health of it. She’d have considered it pretty if the point wasn’t to sell her and her baby off to the highest bidder.
Baby.
Her arms were protectively wrapped around her bare midsection, guarding the little life from prying eyes. As if they could see it, Si’a, as if. It didn’t matter to her. Staying alive and waiting for Anaxar to come save them was of paramount importance. Everything else could and would be handled at a later time and date when she was ready to face that music. “Why didn’t you tell me I’m pregnant?”
Flabbergasted, Valeese took a seat beside the sea creature and shook her head, “Because I didn’t want you to panic and hurt the baby. They told you? Rat bastards.” She hissed, shooting a sharp glare in the last direction she’d seen them.
“No.” It was time for Si’a’s own little head to shake, “Anaxar did.”
“He’s here?” The Vorta’s eyes widened as she shot her attention back to Si’a, searching the lines of the weary little woman’s face for any indication that she’d seen help or hope or something that would indicate that they were going to survive this and be able to go home in one piece.
“No. I saw him in a… Well a dream, but it was so real. We exchanged information and he was right! He was right about the baby, judging by your reaction and and and…” She paused, looking down as she released her hold around her belly. The swelling was barely there, but it was there none-the-less. A tiny little beginning of roundness from beneath her naval, “I honestly thought I’d just overdone the food coming back from that mission or I was bloated, or a thousand other excuses. I never thought baby.” Si’a sniffled, her lower lip trembling with threat of tears. Looking back up, she caught the Vorta’s purple eyes and tilted her head off to one side, “I should be home, we should be celebrating.”
“You’re right,” Valeese whispered, shuffling closer to wrap her arms around her cellmate, her chin resting atop Si’a’s head, “You should be home, celebrating and talking about names and who’s nose baby will have.” While she had a hard time believing that Si’a had managed to communicate with the Andorian, she was well aware of how the Stenellis people bonded to those they loved. They became one, tethered together by an invisible string that spanned across the stars with not a hit of rancor or overzealousness. It was truly remarkable, but something that she herself had never and likely would never experience. Her heart would never be given to a Stenellis man – it had already been given to a ghost.
Her eyes closed at the thought, banishing such thoughts. There was hope to be had, however slim, that she wouldn’t have to resort to the mercy she’d conjured up as she walked into that cell. It was faith now – faith in a system she’d often heard about, but never seen empirical evidence of – that kept her driven and alert as she rocked Si’a gently in her arms. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” She hummed, keeping her eyes closed and flattening her ears against her own jeweled curls to shut out the sounds and sights around them, “but it’ll be alright… Baby is strong and healthy. We’ll all get through this.”
“Promise me, Valeese?” Si’a whimpered, gripping the Vorta’s arms as she allowed herself to be cradled and rocked. The woman was a poor substitute for Anaxar, but the comfort she provided was invaluable all the same. She offered a sense of strength and calm and resolve that Si’a had begun to lose after that dream, or whatever it had been. But Anaxar said he was coming, and she believed him. Gods and stars above, she believed him. Somehow, they’d be saved. Her tears would be for nothing, and this would become a distant memory. A nightmare. Something they’d tell their child about years in the future when regaling the tale of how they’d discovered their existence. ‘In a dream during a nightmare,’ she’d begin and tuck herself deeper against Anaxar. Together they’d explain it, but the ending would be ‘and here we are now’ and it would be obvious that they were stronger for it all.
As if sensing Si’a’s thoughts, Valeese nodded gingerly and squeezed her gently, “I promise.” Oh, how hollow it sounded, such a lie built to instill and bolster that sense of hope when all the Vorta truly wanted to do was scream and run. One way or another, she had to get them out of there. One way or another, she had to get Si’a back to Anaxar. One way or another she knew she’d be successful, or she was going to die trying – and in the interim she’d quietly pray to whatever God was listening that her ghost was on his way to offer both liberation and salvation.
“I promise.” She repeated.
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Commander Valeese
Chief Medical Officer
COLD STATION THETA, SB-1170
Lieutenant Si'a Dai'xun
Stellar Cartographer
USS VINDICATOR, NX-78213-F
