When True Night Falls: A StarTrek Roleplay (J/C || IC)

[Dr Jekyll]

The war waged on.

Tyra had come and gone, but the wounds still ran deep. Bradshaw, and the USS Odin had been one of the fourteen vessels out of the seventh fleet able to set course and warp out after the massive loss to the Dominion/Cardassian fleet. 24000 starfleet officers, 24000 men and women, from hundreds of different worlds, lost their lives to a vastly superior force of Cardassian and Dominion ships. Marcus could still see it, was seeing it now, as he stood standing at his view port of his ready room, staring into the darkness of space. The crippled USS Onoroko, venting drive plasma out her nacelles, spinning free in space, like a leaf amongst gentle winds. So peaceful she looked for the moment, so morbidly beautiful, with brilliant blue plasma trailing from her twin nacelles, like ribbons extending from the Excelsior class’s arms. Then beauty turned to horror, as he watched a stray phaser shot tear through the dorsal section of the Onoroko’s saucer. The ship rocked, hard, rotating with the force of the blast, and though as blood lost, crew members could be seen floating free of the massive starships: hundreds of screaming drops of blood in the cold, merciless vacuum of space.

Then it all fell away, mercifully for Marcus and the bridge crew of the USS Odin, who were witnessing the destruction of a downed, helpless comrade, far beyond their ability to assist. Their orders had been to retreat, though the validity of the order was questionable. The fleet had crumbled so far, the chair of command, broken in so many places, it was difficult to identify who had the top rung. The first message came from Captain Tokugawa, onboard the Sekigahara: to fall back to Starbase 321. Withdrawal was immediate for those still able, for those lucky enough to manage to limp away. The order was never questioned, as starship captains, who would stand firm and to the death with the Dominion, were equally as relieved as their crew when the order came to withdrawal. Relief that blurred the question of validity.

Marcus was one of those captains, his crew comprised of those blessed to see another sun.

Three weeks have passed since the battle of Tyra. The USS Odin, having newly completed repairs at Starbase 321, had been detached from the now defunct Seventh fleet, and a compliment of ground troops joined their ranks. While at space dock, leave had been extended to the crew, to enjoy the starbase while they could, and two days ago, the crew was recalled. Tensions were still high, the news of the war only proved to sink morale lower, but life was slowly returning to normal on board the Odin. Marcus focused his crew on their jobs, made sure the work was there for those who sought to occupy heavy minds. But still, whispers plagued the shadows of the fall of the Federation. Still the roster to have a conversation with the ships counselor was filled for days to come, and sick bay handed out anti-depressants or mood stabilizers as though passing out candy.

“Permission to speak freely sir,” Marcus spoke, turning to look at the small box that was the desktop view screen, knowing that as he saw the Admiral, sitting behind his desk at Starfleet Headquarters in Paris, the admiral would see him, standing at the view port, wrestling with himself over these new orders.

“Go ahead,” Admiral O’shey spoke, dropping his aire of admiralty, seeming to become just another officer, making just another personal call.

“Are they crazy,” Marcus spoke, “I mean, with all due respect, I don’t think they quite understand what went on there. Three weeks ago, twenty-four thousand Starfleet personnel lost their lives, and now want us to go back?” His voice was indignant, and if it were any other member of the admiralty, another other than his former commander, his tone would be quite different. But perhaps they had Jack tell him for a reason, not just to relay orders, but to gage his reactions to them.

“Oh, they understand alright,” the admiral spoke, peering hard at Marcus through dragon green eyes, his own twisting in irritation, taking on a commanding and authoritative glint, different from the regal edge that had been there before. This wasn’t Admiral O’shey speaking… this was the Jack O’shey from five years ago: the captain, speaking to his first officer during a point of heated contestation. “But this is important. The Admirals are sitting on their collective hands, waiting for you to get back from this… a lot is riding on this.”

“Then tell me what it is I’m after,” Marcus added in agitation, raising his voice to a yell, wincing almost immediately as he does. His temper got the best of him, in spite of his attempts to control it. He simply, felt on edge these days. Like he was going to explode if he didn’t find some way to release some of the pressure. But even if that was the situation, he was the captain. He didn’t need to let it show. Not in such a manner.

Admiral O’Shey only grimaced, and sighed his understanding of the other’s state. His look faded from authoritative to sympathetic. “If I could. Damn it Marcus, if I knew what it was you were looking for, I’d tell you, but nobody’s saying a damned thing. Not yet…”

“Alright,” Marcus spoke, his tone defeated, sagging with tired exhaustion, and he fell down into his chair. “I’ll report back in two days, when we’re nearing the Tyra sector.” He didn’t like it one bit, and to be honest, he didn’t know how the crew is going to react. Tyra is still the site of many of their worst nightmares, the place of wounds still fresh, or scars newly knit. And now they were being thrown back in… this time alone.

“Good luck Captain,” The voice came over the channel, to which Marcus only gave a melancholy smirk, drumming his fingers atop the oaken desk. The channel went dark after the standard ‘Bradshaw out’, and for a moment, he sat in silence, composing himself. The word echoed in the back of his mind: Tyra, while the last moments of the Onoroko played against through his mind, inside closed eye lids. Out of remembrance, he allowed it to play once, before pushing it back into the far recesses of his mind.

He stepped out onto the bridge once composed, and without making eye contact with any of them, let his voice speak out to them all. “Helm, set course for the Tyra system, warp six.”

[Christiefries]

"You're not very nice," Natalie spoke to her reflection in the mirror, twirling a strand of hair between her frail fingers. She inspected the blonde hairs before brushing the knots out of them, parting her hair to one side. "Now are you satisfied?" Placing the brush down, she picked up a bottle of booze and took a big gulp, slamming it back down on the counter. A mildly audible burp escaped her lips as she made her way out of the restroom, grabbing her uniform. As she put it on, she noticed it had become quite loose on her. Sighing, she shrugged to herself, lighting a cigarette as she made her way to the bridge.

On the way, she noticed her fellow crew mates all sporting the same blank or depressed expressions as she was. They all stared at her as she puffed at her cigarette, not caring too much to intervene. One member approached her, placing his hand against her shoulder and gave the best smile he could muster. No doubt he knew of the troubles she went through after hearing of her parents' deaths at Tyra. Instead of showing her appreciation towards his polite gesture, she blew her smoke directly into his face and walked away, shrugging his touch off of her.

The rest of the way she softly sang to herself,

"I'm waiting,
I haven't seen the ghost
And am I really here at all?
I'm silent, I'm the moon
One eye open,
I'm waiting, waiting."

Taking long drag of her cigarette as she entered the bridge, she made her way to the seat, continuing on to the next verse,

"I swallowed a knife
I hold it in.
And every single time I breathe,
I cut a bit of me.
And it leaves my heart open."

Suddenly she heard the captain approaching, pausing in her song to listen to his orders.

"What?" She spun around in her chair to stare directly into his eyes. "Tyra? Are you insane, or are you forgetting the twenty-four thousand lives lost there? The Dominion and their bitches are probably still there waiting for another clumsy mistake on our part." Standing up, she stepped towards him, flicking ashes from her cigarette onto the floor. "What could possibly be a good reason for going there now?"

Almost instantly, Natalie Larsen felt uncomfortable. She had forced herself to look into his eyes, which she rarely did to anyone, so she was not used to it. Her challenging of his orders, however, she felt was necessary.

[Dr Jekyll]

Captain Bradshaw just watched as Natalie approached, for the moment taking more stock in her appearance, her actions, that he was the words that were coming out of her mouth. She was disheveled, though her hair was combed, she was wearing an ill-fitting uniform, and smoking on the bridge. Her approach brought the smell of alcohol on her breath, and the touch of her eyes to his only confirmed what he already knew to be the truth: that she didn’t have any place on the bridge of a starship in her present condition.

The kicker of it was, he was in agreement with the counselor. You don’t remove someone’s duties in the aftermath of such a tragedy as hers. Work is therapy, and though she pushed every envelope imaginable with her actions, her language, her questioning of his orders, Marcus could find a sort of tolerance for her, and perhaps what made it difficult for her to look into his eyes is because it was displayed there: pity.

He heard Commander Lewis rise up in his chair was the lieutenant and her captain stared at each other for a moment that seemed to stretch on, and without breaking eye contact, Marcus held up a hand to stop his commander from interfering. If he let him, Commander Lewis could have every right and justification, as far as Starfleet orders of conduct go, to have Natalie thrown into the brig pending a general court martial, but Marcus wasn’t about to let that happen. He hadn’t given up on the her just yet. She was troubled. He wasn’t so sure that, if in her position, he would be any different. Instead, Captain Bradshaw simply reached down and plucked the cigarette from her fingers, dropping it to the floor of the bridge, and smashed it out with the toe of his black, standard issue boot.

“We’re going to Tyra under orders of Admiral O’shey,” Marcus spoke, not because of the inquisition laid before him by Lieutenant Larsen, but because he knew the same question would be in the minds of the others as well. Because he saw the way their bodies stiffened, the way the content seemed to drain from their faces like water through a hole in a bucket. Natalie was simply the one who voiced the question on everyone else’s mind. He couldn’t fault her for the question, simply her methods. But there wasn’t anything pressing in the moment. They were not in battle, and the only ones on the bridge at this moment in time where himself and his command staff, so he could be easy about the whole thing.

“We need to have a talk,” He spoke, quieter now, to Lieutenant Larsen, before finally breaking the lock of his gaze with hers, and moving his eyes to address Commander Lewis. “The bridge is yours commander. You may want to summon someone off C-shift to come and man the helm,” he spoke, as he swept an arm towards the ramp that curved with the slope of the bridge of the galaxy class, towards the turbolift.

“And commander, launch a class seven recon probe once we are within range of the system. If we’re going to warp into anything, I want to know ahead of time,” Bradshaw spoke, turning his attention back to Natalie. He would follow her up the ramp, to the turbolift.

[Christiefries]

As Commander Lewis immediately rose from his seat, Natalie's eyes shifted to his, then down to the ground. She should know better than to question the captain's orders, she was merely a Lieutenant, and an emotionally wrecked one at that. She was surprised when the captain motioned for Lewis to remain seated, this emotion displaying itself upon her face as she tried to look back up at him. When she realized he had continued to stare at her, a chilling sensation ran down her spine in a slight panic. Captain Bradshaw was not seemingly imitated by her words. However strong they might have been, her poor condition no doubt detracted from the message she tried to get across.

Before she knew it, her cigarette had been stolen from her cold fingers, his warm digits having swept across hers as they grabbed onto the object and threw it to the ground. As his foot smashed it to bits, Natalie flinched. She rubbed her fingers together, missing the thing that once occupied their space. The stress of the situation only made her crave it more, and she anxiously looked forward to the next time she could light up.

The captain proceeded to answer her question. The only information he gave on the matter was that it was the orders from an Admiral they were supposed to carry out. Upset by this vague answer, Natalie huffed audibly, then proceeded to make a mental note of how disrespectful she was behaving. She was once a good officer, following orders without so much of a hesitation. She was not quite sure if these depressing times justified her poor actions, but she also hated second guessing herself.

At his next statement, of wanting to talk to her, she gave a simple nod. Her eyes were fixed on the wall beside his frame, not quite looking at him, as she made her way around him towards the ramp. Unintentionally, she had walked slowly to the turbolift, listening carefully to the orders he was giving the others. They were going to carry out the Admiral's orders with or without her, it seemed. Entering the turbolift, she turned around, watching as the captain joined her. As soon as the doors closed, she sighed, stopping herself from apologizing, and instead posed another question.

"What is Admiral O’shey wanting us to accomplish in Tyra, exactly?" Her voice sounded bored, or tired, rather. Eyes fixed ahead of her onto the closed door as she crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. As she yawned, she realized how stagnant her breath reeked of alcohol, and immediately closed her mouth mid-yawn. The most she could do was hope he had not noticed she was buzzed while on duty, but givin his close position to her earlier, no doubt he had smelled it. She then figured, there was not much more she could do about it. She was already kicked off the bridge.

[Dr Jekyll]

It wasn’t until the doors to the turbolift slid closed, and the two of them were isolated that Marcus closed his own eyes, leaned heavily back against the back of the turbolift. He was a mixture of emotions at the moment. Let down by the way she acted on the bridge, in front of the bridge crew, and yet at the same time, he understood both the shock and her turmoil. She lost her family at Tyra, and it was something he couldn’t bring himself to deal with if the tables had been reversed. Then to have it announced that they were going to revisit the site of a recent slaughter, a recent battlefield they had barely fled. It made no sense to him either, and inwardly, his reaction to the order had been the same. But this was Starfleet… such emotional outbursts, though understandable, were not the way to handle things.

“They’re not saying,” Marcus spoke, opening his eyes, looking onto Natalie with a glint that spoke he wasn’t kidding, and that he shared in her frustration with the situation. On the bridge of the ship, in front of everyone, Marcus Bradshaw had a role to play. He was the captain, and in this was to be unwavering his both commitment and loyalty to Starfleet. His place was to uphold the Federation’s values, to follow orders, as well as maintain those orders and values on his own ship. H e didn’t afford himself the ability to let that position slide: not on the bridge of his ship, not in light of recent events. If Tyra had proven anything to him, it was that they were vulnerable, and it was his responsibility to make sure they were safe, “but whatever it is, it must be serious.”

“But that doesn’t matter,” he spoke, shaking the mission away for a moment, pulling away from the wall. “Computer, hault turbolift,” he spoke, bringing their descent into the bowels of the ship to a sudden pause, laying his eyes down upon the Lieutenant’s. “I will handle Starfleet, and I promise you, if I so much as sense the Dominion still heavily occupy Tyra, we will not proceed into the sector, orders be damned…” Captain Bradshaw spoke, his voice was firm, to reassure her of his stance on the situation. “My concern , lieutenant, for the moment is your conduct. I can see questioning an order, and I can even forgive it on the bridge. I want to know your opinions, to share your insights into a situation… because you may see things differently than I do, but that does not grant you leave to smoke on my bridge…”

“And the liquor,” he continued, speaking in a tone that said his words were out of a sense of duty, not outrage. He opened his mouth to continue but stopped, and shook his head. He could continue, but she knew it all already. Her attitude, her body language in the moment said just that.. that she knew what she was doing wasn’t the right path. At length, he exhaled, prematurely ended the ‘lecture’ with a half hearted, ‘shape up,’ and returned the tubolift back to movement with a command to the computer.

“Look,” he spoke as the door to the lift opened to the deck 10. “I can’t say I’ve been where you are, because I haven’t, and I’m sure you don’t want to hear it. But I had friends onboard those starships too, and I still grieve their loss. But I know that life does go on, and though it may have been easier to die along with them, I wasn’t afforded that luxury. Tyra was a tragedy, one that some will likely never get over. The question is, can you get over it, or will you let it continue to haunt you?”

[Christiefries]

His answer displeased her, this fact expressing itself on her appearance as she scrutinized him, shaking her head in disgust as she looked him over. Unfolding her arms, she stepped towards him, then hesitated. Turning away from him, she focused all of her negative energy back onto the closed doors in hopes to not be as disrespectful as before.

"I am not happy that you so blindly follow orders, but," she paused, looking back into his eyes to reassure him, "I trust that you will order a quick escape at the first sign of trouble. Don't break that trust." Sighing, she returned to her previous position against the wall, leaning against it casually. When he began expressing his disappointment towards her bad decisions of cigarettes and alcohol, she crossed her arms again.

Lower lip stuck out in a slight pout as her brows once again furrowed in anger. "I don't see how it hurts anyone that I smoke. Our medical advances make up for any health risks, I'm sure. As for the alcohol," she paused, digging her heel angrily into the ground, "I'll try to cut back," she muttered under her breath harshly. Almost instantly, she regretted making such a promise, which to her seemed like an absurd idea. She was already so deep into the habit, breaking it would prove to be detrimental to her mental health. Natalie was dependent upon the booze to remain sane through these tough times.

The doors parted to reveal the corridors of deck ten and various crew members sluggishly making their way to their posts. Lifting herself from the wall, her intention of slipping through the doors was interrupted by the captain's talk. His attempts at being compassionate did not affect her, as she had heard them all before. Things such as 'I can imagine what you're going through' or 'I lost people too' or the infamous 'Life goes on' speech. She was bored of such attempts by now, sickened by the repetitiveness of it.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do here," she spaced off down the corridor, just hoping to leave this small turbo-lift and this monotonous conversation, "but it's not so simple as 'getting over it' so to speak. I'm sorry you lost people, and I truly am happy, if not envious, that you are so easily no longer burdened by such trivial matters. I unfortunately was not as smart as you when it came to not getting attached to people. Believe me, I do not want to make that same mistake again. May the Dominion fuck me sideways if I ever get as emotionally attached to another person again." Clenching her fist, she halted her tears and restrained herself from punching the wall. Looking down at the floor, she took a deep breath. "I apologize.

[Dr Jekyll]

Ultimately, the failing was his. She questioned because she lacked the faith in him, and her belief that he was ‘blindly following orders’ stems from that same lack of faith, of trust. On one hand, he didn’t need to explain his decisions, or his orders to her. The chain of command made it so, and yet, at the same time, a good captain did what it took to secure the trust and faith of their officers. All of their officers. If that meant he would have to swallow a little pride from time to time, to allow a bit of flexibility here and there, so be it. As long as it was in private. As long as the dissention wasn’t witnessed by the crew. Inwardly he drew in a breath, reminding himself of this, as they stood in the empty corridor.

“Smoke as you wish, drink as you see fit, but when you are on duty, the cigarettes stay unlit, and the alcohol out of your system. I need you alert, and I need you focused, especially now, seeing as how we are going back into hell,” he spoke, exhaling a breath, letting his own irritation with the current set of orders show in his voice.

“As for your little outburst on the bridge… I understand the sentiment, and have no qualms with you voicing concerns. Bring them to me alone. If you feel it cannot wait, I have a ready room for such things, we can speak there. I ask that you refrain from showing disrespect while on my bridge.”

The rest, he let lie. If she didn’t want to discuss it, which was how he was registering her sentiments concerning his attempt to console, then he would simply let her alone with it. Sometimes it was better to pry, while others it was dangerous to do so. Lieutenant Larsen seemed to fit the second category. She had a lot on her plate, anyone could see it. Struggling with such a loss… She was right when she said Marcus had a different level of attachment to those who died at Tyra than she had, and he really couldn’t understand her pain: both of his parents having died of natural, age related issues some time ago.

“Second shift starts in six hours. I want you on the bridge for it. Until then, do what you need to do. We will discuss things in further detail then if you’d prefer, just come by my ready room. “ Marcus spoke, feeling this as good a time as any to be done with the situation. He was concerned. As her superior, it was his job to look after those under his command, and though she may not wish it, he would do his duty. But it was more than just that. He remembered the chipper, upbeat girl who used to smile and laugh. The one who came on the bridge with a positive attitude, excited about life and the journey’s they would go on. He could remember someone so different than the one who stood before him now. Another tragic causality of Tyra.

“Get some rest Natalie,” he spoke, dropping rank, dropping protocol and station. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do…” and though he offered, he didn’t expect she’d ever take him up on it. In the end,he just patted her arm, and turned back into the turbolift, ordering it back up to the bridge.

[Christiefries]

Nodding, she exited the turbo-lift, not looking back at him. She sure as hell wanted more details, and she could come up with many things he could do to "help" her. Licking her lips at her thoughts, her stomach growled in not only carnal hunger, but for that of food. Natalie had skimped out on food for too long now, it was time to eat up. Making her way to the cafeteria, she ordered herself a steak with a side of corn and mashed potatoes. Slowly, she devoured the whole plate of it's contents, downing the meal with a tall glass of water.

Eyes flickered towards the window, watching as many stars zoomed by and clusters of galaxies resonated in the distance. So many planets. So many lives. Each and every creature doing what it could for survival in this more-than-likely doomed quadrant. Crew members surrounded her, talking amongst themselves, but not as much as usual. For the most part, they all sat there in silence, brooding. Growing bored of this scene, Natalie left her dishes on the table and made her way back to her quarters.

~

Inhale

Natalie closed her eyes, feeling the smoke trace along the edges of her throat, only to be exhaled out slowly.

Deeper.

This time, she inhaled deeply, the smoke traveling all the way to her lungs, filling her up with its warmth and its poison. Quickly exhaling, she took another drag. Opening her eyes, she stared up at the smooth ceiling, watching the smoke circle its way towards it. Natalie was laying on the floor on her back, her feet propped up on the edge of her bed. She had taken her uniform off, down to her underwear. She felt the chill of her cold room, tickling up her spine.

Done with her ciggie, she smashed the butt into an ash tray by her side on the floor. Pinching the fat in her stomach, she felt nauseous. Her head throbbed in pain as she came to a sitting position, and then stood up. She still had hours to go before she was due back on the bridge. Making her way towards the bathroom, she knelt down before the toilet and proceeded to stick her finger in her mouth.

The tip of her single digit ran along the length of her tongue until it reached the back of her throat, pressing down against it, causing her to gag. Small bits of her meal were regurgitated into the toilet water, sinking to the bottom. Unsatisfied, she shoved her fingers back in again, more forcibly this time to cause a bigger gag until eventually she was throwing up normal amounts. She repeated this ritual until all she spat out was acid and her stomach was empty.

Flushing the toilet, she watched the contents slide down the pipe before the bowl was refilled with fresh water. At the sink she rinsed out her mouth, brushing the stuck bits out with minty toothpaste which she scrubbed along her tongue carefully. Rinsing once more, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were droopy and darkened with stress, her skin losing its once natural glow.

Retrieving another ciggie, she lit it carefully and brought it to her lips, taking a long drag before slumping onto her bed tiredly. Her previous bathroom experience had been exhausting and didn't take as much time as she had hoped. Setting her alarm, she quickly finished up her cigarette before tucking herself into her soft sheets and taking a nap.

~

They flutter behind you, your possible pasts
Some bright eyed and crazy, some frightened and lost
A warning to anyone still in command
Of their possible future to take care

Natalie was half-way awake, the song of her alarm present in her dream, slowly waking her up. She could still see the bloodshed in her dream, explosions of ship hulls with the music in the background.

In derelict sidings the poppies entwine
With cattle trucks lying in wait for the next time

Stretching, she exited the dreamworld completely, her mouth opening in a long yawn. Anxiously she waited to sing along with the chorus.

"Do you remember me? How we used to be? Do you think we should be closer?" Rubbing her eyes, she slid out from beneath the covers, shivering from the cold air. She had fallen asleep in her underwear. Now she just had to find her uniform. Sliding to the edge of the bed, she looked beneath it, seeing nothing.

The song continued to play as she got out of bed, looking around the room for where she had thrown the uniform. Finally, she found it slumped over the edge of her chair. Her blind throw had gone farther than expected. Slipping into it, she listened for the chorus to start up again as she made her way to the bathroom.

Stepping up boldly one put out his hand
He said, "I was just a child then, now I am only a man"

Washing her face, she rid it of the makeup, smeared from her tossing and turning in her sleep. Re-applying it, she sang along with the last verse. "By the cold and religious we were taken in hand, shown how to feel good and told to feel bad. Strung out behind us the banners and flags of our possible pasts lie in tatters and rags." Yawning, she used the toilet and washed her hands before spritzing a ton of perfume on to cover up the stench of smoke. Departing, she made her way to the bridge.

[Dr Jekyll]

This is crazy, maddening. The battle was to recent, the assignment folly. Why would the Dominion abandon a sector they fought to hard to keep only three weeks after having secured it? It makes no sense. It’s as though we are being sacrificed…

The chime to his ready room sounded, and Bradshaw looked up from the padd he had been staring at, seeing the computer’s message blinking boldly across the blanked, black surface: Recording Captains’ Log. The timer marked over an hour of recording, but Bradshaw hadn’t been aware of having said anything. He remembered decided to make one, but had been at a loss of what to say. He sat the padd down upon his desk, the movement activating a menu through which he deleted the log before the chime sounded again, and the padd went black with inactivity.

“Come,” He said, his voice unusually deep from inactivity. The door opened, sliding quickly out of the way to reveal his first officer, Commander Brandon Lewis, approaching from the bridge. The door closed behind him, admitting the Commander and isolating them behind a closed bulkhead. A search of the man’s darkened expression and heavy gaze told him that the thoughts that were plaguing his own thoughts were rattling through the other man’s mind as well. There simply was no sense in what they were asked to do, and thought the situation was dire, the war was far from lost. The time for such desperation was not yet upon them.

“Captain, as per your orders, we’re holding position at the edge of sensor range of the Tyra system. At the moment, long range sensors show anticipated Dominion activity within the system, though, at this distance, sensors are unable to determine type of craft within the system,” Lewis spoke, standing before the captain’s desk, looking down at the seated individual, who peered up at him.

“Understood,” was Marcus’s only response, as he settled back in his chair, losing his gaze somewhere between the two of them, thoughts flooding in his mind. His conversation with Natalie in the corridor was undoubtedly characteristic of the thoughts and feelings of the rest of the crew. However, none of them would voice such objection as openly. Hell, it was characteristic of his own feelings towards the mission.

He had thought he would have plenty of time, to figure this puzzle out before reaching the jump off point, but here they stand, balanced on the edge of a precipice, and Bradshaw had come up with no more answers than he had earlier today. Starfleet offered no more explanation, no guidance for the situation, and the issuing admiral, O’shey, was out of contact for the moment, leaving him with precious few actual options.

“You’re debating whether or not to go into the system,” Lewis spoke, taking a seat in one of the two, red leather covered chairs on the other side of the captain’s desk, as he often did in conference about ships business. As Lewis sat, Marcus stood, moving to stare out the window of his ready room, to the brilliant stars in the distant heavens.

“I’m debating the merit of this decision,” Marcus Bradshaw spoke, searching the ancient stars for some guidance, something that would help him understand what his options were… exactly what was going on. He exhaled a breath. “I’m having issue with the idea that Starfleet would simply order us into an ambush without some reason. Even if they were ordering us into an impossible situation, we’d still know the why of it. Here, we know nothing. I need to know more,” he spoke, his voice growing quiet, lost between the two of them.

Then Bradshaw stepped out onto the bridge. His quick strides carrying him towards the center of the bridge, where the captain’s chair awaited him beneath the arch of the tactical station. Movement of Lieutenant Larsen coming on duty caught his eye, and for a moment he simply watched as she moved, an unspoken reminder of what occurred only earlier that morning in his gaze before he pulled it away. He had to lead. Had to give orders, to seem like he knew what he was doing, though he had no real idea of it.

“Ready a class three recon probe, and send it into the Tyra sector. I want continual monitoring of its telemetry,” He spoke, his mind etching off a list. He needed more information, needed to make this make sense before he could follow his orders, before he’d proceed any further on blind faith.

“Helm, I want you to plot an escape course out of here, but don’t engage. Just have it ready in case we draw some unwanted attention,” He spoke, casting another glance towards Larsen, for acknowledgement, as he sat himself down upon his captain’s chair, and input the commands himself, on the chair’s embedded computer panel, to cascade the running lights on the bridge to signify a yellow alert condition.

“Raise the shields, and…” His voice was cut off by a chirping, and the young Ensign at communication’s announcing an incoming subspace message, and before he could prepare himself, before understanding and a handle could form on the current situation, the view screen activated, and Marcus Bradshaw found himself staring into the same green orbs that he saw every time he looked at himself in the mirror. Confusion born in an instant as the bridge crew of the Starship Odin, found itself coming face to face with themselves.

Out in space, before the form of the galaxy Starship USS Odin, its mirror began to decloak, shimmering slowly into existence out of the darkness of empty, cold space…

[Christiefries]

Doors opened to reveal the bridge crew sluggishly at work. Anxiety hung in the air, everyone double checking the readings to make sure they weren't about to be attacked. Hesitantly, Natalie placed one foot on the bridge, then many eyes turned towards her. She could feel them judging her for both her ill-appearance and previous conduct. Ignoring the stares, she made her way to her station, relieving her fellow officer. It was Matthew, someone who she never really got to know until immediately after her parents died. He would fuck her brains out, helping her to bottle up all of her emotions. After a week straight of that, she suddenly stopped talking to him, avoiding him as much as possible.

So when he stood up, the look on his face turned to that of surprise. His light-brown hair was gelled and combed to perfection, no dark circles under his eyes like that of the rest of the crew. He looked as good as before, his weight maintained and his skin still glowing. How could he be so unaffected by their situation? So uncaring of the lives lost in the very same spot they were headed now?

"Natalie..." He whispered, placing his hand against her waist. She immediately swatted his touch away. He nodded, receiving the message to leave her alone. As he walked away, behind his figure she noticed the Captain watching her closely. Quickly, she took her seat, hiding a shiver as she turned away. She touched the screen, revealing their current location and immediate surroundings. They had indeed arrived at Tyra, luckily no ships were within their vicinity. Yet.

Sliding her fingers across the screen, she realized an escape route had not even been plotted. Frowning, she immediately entered one in. She listened to the Captain order a probe, leaning back into her seat as she watched the object fly off into space. Craving a cigarette, she closed her eyes, daydreaming of lighting up and feeling the smoke fill her lungs. Why couldn't she smoke now? All she was doing was sitting here. Stupid rules.

Opening her eyes, she sighed, staring out the view screen at the stars twinkling in the distance. She missed Earth. She missed the carefree, happy life, surrounded by friends and family as they would go camping on weekends and look at the night sky. Her decision to join Starfleet began with the learning of constellations on one of these camping trips. Her parents were so proud of her for remembering them all.

Her reminiscing came to a halt as she heard the Captain order her to plot an escape course. Smirking to hold back the tears, she turned to look at him.

"Already did, Captain." She stared into directly his eyes, her voice seemingly impudent. She still wanted to test him, and although she was curious about what he had planned, she very much would prefer getting out of here immediately. Turning back to her controls, her hand hovered over them for a moment, contemplating turning the ship around and locking the controls. Instead, she placed her hand in her lap, deciding to trust her Captain.

As the yellow lights flashed on, Natalie took a deep breath, focusing on the voice of her Captain's next orders that were interrupted. Her blank stare out the view screen into space suddenly flashed to a mirror image of herself. Having no previous warning, she jumped in her seat, her eyes widening at this strange phenomenon. Squinting, she leaned forward, inspecting the details of the woman in front of her. Snapping out of her daze, she glanced down at her controls, ready to enter the command to get out of here. This was all so weird.

Turning, she looked at her Captain. Her face expressed a frightened confusion, her fingers wiggling over her control panel as she raised a brow, silently questioning if they should leave.