JL | Cmdr Valeese, LtCmdr Stacker | "Oio naa elealla alasse' "

Posted on Sun Mar 18th, 2018 @ 9:21pm by Commander Valeese Stacker & Commander James Stacker

Mission: Lacuna

It was cold, but relatively silent, but cold. It wasn't often that Valeese felt chilled, but in this circumstance it seemed to fit. Her heart beat slowly, barely pushing blood and oxygen through her circulatory system - the crash from an injection of adrenaline directly to the quietly pumping muscle in her chest having taken affect and left her shivering against barren deck plates. Her eyes were swollen, one so much that opening it wasn't an option, and her throat burned. Parched, dry, bruised - her larynx was a mess of damaged tissue that had been haphazardly put back together enough to allow her to breathe. A crushed windpipe had certainly dampened her spirit and prospects when it came to a rebellious rise for escape. A single ear, the one not pressed against the deck, twitched as she tired to orient herself. No thrum. No engines. They were still dead in space. She'd have smiled if she thought it would have been a benefit. Off in the corner, maybe thirty feet or so away, she could hear Si'a. Safe. Child. Safe. The hoarsest whisper of a groan escaped her lips as she allowed herself to relax as best she could. Regenerating her strength would take some time, and she'd eventually heal even with the crude medical practices they'd offered - it meant that she'd need to be ready for whatever came next... A task she wasn't certain she was up for, but would do the best she could when it came to pass. At least, for now, she was alive. There was still hope of some kind of escape.

"Escape to where, though?" The question came from a patch of darkness next to the door, where the light was blocked by an ancient patch job that had left metal sticking out from the wall next to the light. Too high to be grasped and made use of, it created an area in the compartment in which light failed to penetrate. And now there was someone there, speaking in a voice that she knew all-too-well. "Think about it Val. You're on a ship that's adrift in space." He chuckled and something moved in the shadow, as the voice added "it's not as if they're going to let you waltz to an escape pod. Assuming they even work." There was a faint sound of skin-on-metal, as if a finger was making an inspection of the bulkhead for cleanliness. The sound that followed was not one of approval.

"I could tango." She murmured roughly, the edges of her lips grazing the cool floor beneath her. The pace of her heat quickened as she homed in on the sound of him rustling about near by, the gentle gruff rasp of his voice as he spoke... But there was no atrial beat to be found. A figment... A whisper... A ghost. She laughed an airy, non-existent laugh as she figured just how appropriate that really was. "Square dance, even..." Valeese grunted, forcing herself to roll onto her back and away from the drying crust of her own blood and what she could only imagine was drool many thanks to her busted and puffy lower lip. "Too dangerous for the asset, though... Can't risk the asset." Si'a. The Stenellis. Having her injured wasn't an option come what may. If anyone would understand, it'd be him.

"Now how did I know you were going to say that?" the shadow asked. There was humor there: real humor, not just some faint echo that was whisked away at the slightest hint of a breeze. "Everyone before yourself. Always, without fail." An instant later he was there, standing over her, looking down at her and silhouetted by the light. Many of his features were indistinguishable thanks to having to squint into the bright light, and when he spoke the humor was diminished. "Let me guess: the noble Valeese, as self-sacrificing as always, cares so much about peace that she will do anything and everything possible to call attention to herself and away from a Stenellis and her unborn child. A noble sentiment if there ever was one."

"Because you and I are cut from the same cloth." She whispered, forcing herself to look up and into the savage light - just barely able to make out the shadow of his unshaven jaw and the patch over one of his glacial eyes. "It's not about nobility, it's about doing what's right. It's about doing my job." Her retaliation was punctuated by her blinking, the swollen eye twitching near the brow in reaction to the nervous impulse to do so. "But you already knew that." Valeese wanted to reach for him, pull him down to her and use him as a safety blanket until she was physically ready to do... Well... Whatever came next, whatever wound up availing itself to her. "You have to admit I've done well so far." She grinned, wincing as the expression tugged further on the split of her lip.

'He' chuckled again, head tilting in both acknowledgement and concession. At what, precisely, he didn't say. It could be that he was agreeing with her simply doing a job, or acknowledging that she was doing well. "The tales of your escapade are going to be legendary. At least, they would be if they ever made it out of that report you're going to be making. The same as the one I'm going to make, as well," the shadow added as his head came up, looking around the room. "It's a good thing I didn't fall in love with someone who folds at the slightest sign of trouble. Although you should maybe consider backing off slightly. I'd hate to find you sporting even more battle scars if - when - I find you."

The Vorta scoffed, only it sounded wet and bubbly more than sharp and concise as she would have wanted it to be. The sliver of an amethyst eye tracked his movements as he studied their surroundings. "Locks are out, though. Almost Romulan in design... Everything seems to run on tubes that lead back to the bridge. Stupid design, but..." She wheezed a sigh, "who am I to judge?" Even then, she was constantly thinking, milling ideas, jogging her mind up and down the dark corridors that threatened to consume it. Was she afraid of death? Maybe a little - but fearing it seemed selfish and she wasn't able to fall that far down the rabbit hole. Damned genetics... "If you were here, we'd all be gone by now. They keep her drugged... I don't know whether that's a blessing or a curse right now. Little and young as she is, she's damned handy." Valeese rolled again, allowing her attention to fall on Si'a, her ears straining towards the slumbering Lieutenant, "She knows the stars like the back of her hand. No doubt she'd be able to chart us home in a second... All I can rely on, for now, is the hope that you're looking for us," the ear closest quirked in the direction of the figment of her head injury, "That's my only light right now." Whether she liked it or not, she was all too well aware that she was but one very small mortal being in a world of angry giants that were more than happy to extinguish her life as if she were a mere insect. A very expensive and shiny insect, but an insect none-the-less. "I shouldn't have let us leave bed... Then again that would mean that she'd be alone up here with no one to buy her time while the search was on."

The shadow had nodded when she was remarking on the ship's internal designs quirks, still looking around even as she talked. Had it really been the Lieutenant Commander standing there, he probably would have been able to rattle off the ship's ancestry; her make, her model, year of design. With a little digging through a computer system, possibly even her origin and ports-of-call. If it wasn't him able to do this, it certainly would've been a member of the cavalry that he might bring with him.

Its fascination and preoccupation with the cell ended when she rolled again, though, his head jerking down to look at her. It went to one knee, on one it with his elbow on the other. "I think you know me well enough to know that I'm moving heaven and earth to find you, and her. Can't have me going back to my Armor days, can we? God knows, it'll be hard enough prying me out of my shell again when you come back around." A thumb rubbed his lip as he thought before continuing. "I do have a mission for you, though, Val. Use your wits. Don't be a blunt instrument calling attention to yourself all the time. Think. Act. React. You're not a punching bag, and you can't keep taking blows like this. Sooner or later they'll do enough damage, and then -" he made a slight sound, underscoring his point. "Let me handle them when I show up. I'll be your avenging knight, storming the gates of hell itself."

"My brave Sir Stacker." the Vorta hummed tiredly, a flash of amusement sparking in his one revealed eye, "They won't let me die... At least the one won't, not yet. He's too money hungry." She sighed, closing her eyes and simply taking comfort in her own momentary insanity. For a second she could at least pretend that she wasn't mostly alone in this hellish situation. "So don't write me off... Not just yet, James." The one eye reopened and her jaw tipped off to the right, allowing her to eyeball the exit. Not very secure, "If I could get my hand on that crude regenerator of theirs I could probably fix most of this." Even with the way her biology chose to fight against artificial healing techniques, a few hours would be better than a few days. "Then again," she was thinking out loud now, pinging ideas into the ether, "they probably have better tech wherever they're taking us. They won't put anything but a flawless product up on the sales floor." Valeese's nose scrunched in thought, her the spinning sensation in her head making it anything but easy to concentrate. "I hate to say it, James, but I'm out of my league here. I can't save her and me and get us out of here... I don't know enough. What they say about Vorta being sneaky little shits, we're about as subtle as sledge hammers."

The reply was not long in coming. "So then you play for time, and play along until you see your opportunity to escape. Conserve your strength and energy. Expend it only when absolutely necessary, and along the way you listen, and learn. When you get to where you're going, let them heal you up. Not saying it'll be pleasant - certainly not in your case, what with how your body reacts to treatment - but it's necessary, Val," his voice said, in a tone that brooked no argument. The shadow shifted in the light, boot thumping on the deck plates as it got up. "And when - if - you find me again, you get me to teach you. So that if there is a next time, you'll know enough. You know me, Val. Ask, and I'll teach."

Would she listen to 'him'? Of course she would. She didn't like it, but she knew it to be a necessary evil if she was ever going to make it back to her rightful place in life and society; beside him... Sort of. "When... There's no if. You'll figure it out, or I will, but..." Valeese paused, hesitantly running her tongue over her lower lip, "I think we both know that there's a lot of things I can't simply ask or tell you." She huffed with a little cough, her head resting on her arm. Fatigue was setting in heavily again, the mediocre attempts made to keep her alive after the beating her took were both working and making her ill at the same time. Vorta physiology was a strange thing. So many decades, and lifetimes, spent making each body worth more as a clone than healing it when it was sick had played havoc on those left to their own devices. They were strong, far from susceptible to disease, but they fought being fixed - something she was studying quietly on her own time.

There was a snort of amusement. "Please. I'm a Starfleet Intelligence officer: I'll figure them out, if I haven't already. But don't take that as an invitation to go all confessional on me. I -" Its voice abruptly cut off as something mechanical gave a hoarse screeching sound. The source wasn't anywhere nearby: the sound was dulled when it reverberated through the bulkheads. Faint footsteps could be heard afterwards, along with voices whose words were indiscriminate. When the shadow did look away from the door, the few faint lines that could be seen softened notably when they looked at her. 'He' knelt down again, one hand planting itself next to her as he bent over to brush his lips across her forehead. "Sleep, my dear. You need your sleep. We can keep talking later, but for now you really do need your rest," James' voice faintly said when he retreated from this soft gesture.

"Good Ghost..." She whispered to the darkness, "Such a good Ghost..." Whether or not she actually said those words, or merely thought them as her mind shut down for much needed sleep, was up to debate. What she did know was that when she awoke, things would be different. They'd likely have their show on the road - but those precious hours would have given Stacker, the real one, a bit of an edge if the hunter was truly hunting.

---

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

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