Ep2: Act1: Welcome Home/Go Away

[SabrinaPandora]

Then it happened, as it sometimes did for Lieutenant Talla P'Trell, chief of security and tactical.

Time stretched out, elongating the space between seconds, and she once again found herself ever so slightly unstuck in time.

This was nothing new to her. It had been happening to her for most of her adult life, and while it was disconcerting and disheartening, she was somewhat accustomed to it by now. She knew the rules of this anomaly- she was awake, fully conscious, and she could move about. What she could not do was affect anything or anyone. Phasers fired would not begin their beams, computers would not function, replicators would not deliver. All of those actions required the passage of time to occur, and trapped between the ticks of the clock as she was, they could do no such thing.

Free to wander and roam she was, but she never knew how long the phenomenon would last. Thus if she walked too far she might be out of place when time resumed, as it usually did in these circumstances. Of course, when time did resume its march forward once more, she might find herself somewhere completely new again. That was, after all, how she had arrived on the USS Tim Allen - a moment had stretched until she had fallen asleep, and when she had awakened she was somewhere else entirely. In point of fact, by her reckoning she was six years in the past right now if she had her dates correct, but no one seemed to have noticed and she assumed that she had been sent here for some sort of reason.

Settling down on the deck, she laid the phaser rifle across her lap, then peeled off the tactical gauntlet that she had appropriated to cover her deformed left hand. Looking at it still made her want to cry... yes, she was healed and intact, but the sight of the dull grey tissue upset her immensely. As a martial artist conversant in a dozen forms, Talla was quite in tune with her body, and the hand as well as the spots across her arms and legs where the alien vessel had regenerated her felt... wrong somehow. As if they were mechanical parts- hers, but not a part of her at all. She definitely did not like the color... while she would never admit it to anyone, she was quite proud of her reactive bright blue skin, which set her apart from so many she served with in Starfleet. This.. this was awful and grey and dull, and looked like Borg flesh.

That thought chilled her and opened a yawning pit of fear in her stomach. For all of her compliance and obedience and desire for structure and order and rules and regulations, the Borg terrified her. Talla P'Trell was who she was and behaved as she did by choice, and her choices made her happy. For all of her experience and rank, she was still quite childish in a number of ways, and knowing that the Borg had no emotions and simply went about their tasks like machines was viewed by her as a fate worse than death.

Inhaling deeply she let her breath out in a long sigh, and allowed her shoulders to slump as she cradled the phaser rifle like a favorite toy or a security blanket. No one was moving, no one was speaking, and nothing was happening. She was trapped between moments again, now on a wrecked starbase instead of functional starship, mauled and deformed and sweating in a regular jumpsuit uniform that was of course too big for her. She missed her coldsuit and the relief that it brought her. She missed the Captain-Admiral, who had sacrificed her most unswervingly loyal lieutenant in an effort to save her own skin and continue her own career in Starfleet. She missed the tough little Defiant class starship which she had once called home, which she had known so very well and served so faithfully. She missed Be'vaQ, the Klingon woman to whom she had become smitten who did not return her affections. And she missed Irky, the simple engineering crewman whose childlike mindset had been an excellent match for her own.

Tears welled in the polar blue eyes, then ran down Talla's azure cheeks as she reviewed what she had lost. Here in the dim lighting of a barely functional derelict station she was lost and alone again, and trapped between ticks of the clock, there was no one to talk to and no crisis to distract her. Instead she had nothing but time, silence and her own thoughts and emotions to keep her, so Talla P'Trell wept like a lost child. The loyal little lieutenant with no commander and no mission wallowed in self pity for a time, afraid and alone and wishing very much not to be here. Cuddling the plastic of the phaser rifle was a poor substitute for a warm body, but no one here particularly made her feel secure or safe or loved. These were still a crew of strangers, though she was trying to make friends amongst them.

When time started once more, her eyes would be clear and her cheeks dry and Lieutenant P'Trell would be up and ready to do her duty, whatever needed to be done. Because it had all occurred between the ticks of the clock, none would be the wiser that the sweaty little Andorian had afforded herself a little breakdown on the floor... save for perhaps the puddle of perspiration and tears that she would leave behind.

[Aoife]

Emerald waited until she received the curt nod from the captain to go ahead. She nodded back. Keeping her professional cool face firmly in place, she walked back over to the hoverbed, Zayna and Zuub. "I'm leaving. If you want my help with that suit, you'd better follow. He says to get moving. So moving I am."

With no other words, she turned and left for the transport to their location. She didn't bother to see if she was being followed. And sure enough, while she waited in the transport, many minutes passed. She smiled at each of them as they arrived.

The trip to the bazaar was quick enough for her means. A short jump, and boom.. there they were.

The bazaar was colourful, noisy and bright. It felt like home, and Emerald spotted the young gang of pickpockets working the crowds within moments of their arrival. She grinned happily at the sight. Now that? That was true home for her. She wondered if she dared go AWOL from the team, just to be somewhere that felt right. The scent of food hung in the air, carried by the faint veil of smoke that carried it from braziers offering all kinds of delectable morsels. Throngs of shoppers, vendors and those who always hung around the edge of places like this, wheeling and dealing their wares.

"Right, what was it we were supposed to get?" She asked the others. "And once we've got it, I'm going to go for a look around. If these are the neighbours, I want to get to know them." She turned her head slightly and her hand whipped out to catch the wrist of a young girl dressed in layers of bright tunics and scarves. "Give it back," she admonished. "Now."

With a sulk, the girl handed back the tricorder she'd snagged from Zuub.

"Nicely done. Tell whoever you're staying with that Emerald Jones is visiting from Mars. Would like a looksee with the sneaky fingers, especially at tech. Shoo."

TAG - all

((moving the tale, moving the tale.. ))

[Aoife]

Emerald grinned and relaxed completely as the bustle of the bazaar surrounded them. This felt like home in a way that she hadn't experienced in more than a few years. She sauntered through the throngs, looking over the booths displaying their wares on brightly coloured throws. Sooner or later, she'd get a reply from the kid she sent off running to their handler.

It was the way of these things. And besides, her name should be enough to bring someone higher up the chain to check out if she was legit. Or at least, as legit as the underground ever chose to acknowledge. She was right too, it didn't take long before someone approached her at the 45 angle. Smart. Best way to keep out of reach if needs. be. The scrawny man stopped walking and stared at her for a long moment, his fingers fluttering against his lapel. Emerald's eyebrow quirked in response and she touched a cup on the nearest booth table. I see you, what have you got for me?

"Emerald Jones," he stated, striding over and holding his hand out to shake hers. His grasp was firm enough not to give offence, and quick enough not to add to the discomfort. "I'm A'bram of the Traders. Your name is not unknown to us, though you have been out of the game some years. What brings you to our humble centre?"

"A'bram of the Traders. Your family is known to mine, and I honour your seeing me." Emerald inclined her head just enough for respect. "I have been away from my family for some years now. I require a few items, let us discuss terms and see what we may agree upon. The dance is always best in the morning, do you not think?"

Very quickly, the two were deep in negotiation for the parts that had been requested. Emerald ignored the rest of the Starfleet team. This was, after all, her specialty.

TAG - the folk with her at the Bazaar.