JL | Cmdr Valeese, LtCmdr Stacker | "Nefelibata" pt 4

Posted on Sat Oct 28th, 2017 @ 3:54am by Commander Valeese Stacker

Test passed. Aced with flying colors. He was real real, safe, dependable... Most of all he was honest. She could hear the shock and the list of his heart, see pain as it tainted the color of his eyes. At once she nodded, "It's better than what he intended to be the end result," she shivered at the thought and not so distant memory, "but it's what you'll need to contend with. Usually it's scare tactics, maybe being spit on, swearing... This is the worst and I'm afraid it's escalating. Most of the time I don't report things. No choice this time." Her head shook and she stepped forward, pressing herself against the comfort of him.

That was even worse. Barolia, Quantico, and Viery had been isolated from the larger affairs of the Federation: its political and social trends, the moods of the populace. All the nuances that made up civil society and the greater whole of Starfleet. Small wonder she was so intent on sounding him out to find if he was trustworthy; all alone on alien shores was no place to be, especially for a Vorta. Stacker did what he could in that moment, though. No words were said as he relied on holding her, a distant part of his mind savoring this feeling while another found itself disturbed far beyond capacity for words. And when he decided he'd had enough of dealing with their too-readily-apparent height difference he sat back down in the chair, gently teasing her arm with his fingers, silently offering her a place to sit and be comforted and comfortable. One that would put them back on a relatively-equal height.

Not that he placed a great deal of importance on such things.

It didn't take much to coax her into the saddle of his lap, allowing her to curl against him as he processed the distinction of what it was like to be truly alien as far as the Federation was concerned. The Vorta were odd men out, and she even more so as she was seen, by each, to buck the norm and shirk the system of comfort that had been put in place. Valeese, in many ways, was without a port to call home, though it would seem that he intended to guide her from the shoals of that precarious way of living. Without things as trivial as height in her way, she was able to consider him at a much closer, finer range. "If I don't show up back on the promenade tomorrow morning... It'll look bad. If I do show up, it may flush out people compassionate to the Bajoran's cause. I'm sure there will be quite a few demanding his release." She was quiet as she spoke, toying with the wiry fluff adorning his chin and jaw, "Not what this station needs with the Empress on her way, but we may give her an inside look at what it's like to stand with Federation policy. Renew hope that we're not here to ostracize or alienate." It still chilled her to talk about work, real work, near him - but if tests were to be run... Let them run before she was in over her head and hopelessly tangled in his web. Her eyebrow rested on his shoulder, affording her a view of his fingers working along her arm.

He thought while his fingers remained in slow motion, that smile quirking at his mouth again as her fingers toyed with his facial hair. This time it was unconscious and completely natural, as his ease continued to permeate throughout his body and work its way into the little cracks and crevices of a hard personality that had formed over time. One that was slowly, thanks to this interesting - at this his fingers lightly brushed up the sleeve of her robe - Vorta. Faint words about not needing a chaperone or security detail came back to mind. Had it really only been minutes ago that he said them? It felt as if ages had passed, he reflected as the smile in the corners of his mouth deepened. "How can I help?" She was right: he knew that. Extremists riling up the station with a diplomatic visit on the horizon was not what anybody needed. Thus when he said the words they were remarkably tension-free, even though he wanted to be talking about anything other than work at this moment in time.

"Be ready. Her cousin is aboard the Vindicator, the first of her kind to serve Starfleet. That's where her interest will lie and she'll either be in mourning for a loss or anxiously awaiting a return." She hummed, watching as his hand disappeared under the yawning bell of her sleeve in search of new territory to claim, "Assure her that the Federation protects those who require it whether it's the popular choice or not. I have no worries over DiAgessi. She's the product of her breeding and is her mother's daughter. Satie, on the other hand, seems a bit excitable and that may spook the Empress and her delegation if he seems too eager." Nosing closer she brought her lips briefly to his jaw, relishing in the feel of the foreign texture of him against her skin.

"Is that so?" he replied, to all of the prior points. Whereas only days before such revelations would have brought an excitable ah-ha! a clue Watson! type of response, delivered in private, in the safety of the intelligence department, Stacker was so biased at this point towards the warm little Vorta that he was prepared to take what she said on faith and faith alone. He was hopelessly comprised, but such thoughts never once crossed his mind as he nuzzled back and softly returned the kiss to her cheek. The hand was ... somewhere. It was unconsciously making its way up towards the crook of her elbow, fingerpads teasingly rubbing her soft skin. "I'll do what I can to taper Satie's eagerness. No guarantees, mind you," he whispered to her as the hand started to withdraw back down her sleeve, retracting its old path. "I think that's more the CO's territory than mine, but I'll do what I can."

Valeese nodded, content for the moment to simply be. "Speak with her, it's all you can do. It's her job, yes, but it's your job to council her where things may get hairy." Sweet heaven, at last she'd found it... Maybe. He would leave, tomorrow would come, and with it she'd either sink or swim. For the moment, all she felt was calm. Someday, maybe when she was certain there would be more evenings spent unwinding from the storm safe in the arms of a ghost. Her ghost.

---

Commander Valeese
Chief Medical Officer
Cold Station Theta, SB-1170

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