Chapter 4
The walk back from Engineering had seemed longer than she remembered it. Rychel hovered outside the doorway to her quarters, remembering the last time that she'd stood there. He was with her.
Her face flushed.
She entered her quarters, removing her uniform piece by piece before throwing the whole lot of it into the replicator for recycling. She entered the bathroom, and stared at herself in the mirror for a long moment.
She scowled at her reflection, and watched the ridges on her nose seem to multiply as her brow furrowed at the action. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached up to grasp the earring. Her face flushed more as she remembered earlier, when he'd brushed against her neck ever so softly as he'd reached to inspect it...
Bajoran.
The word ran through her mind.
Did it matter what she was? Did it matter the people she'd come from? Would he be more interested in her if those 6 little ridges weren't perched atop her pert little nose? What would she look like if she were a Cardassian, she wondered.
Her neck was long enough, she decided, after a moment's inspection. Her frame was small though, not quite the same as the thicker, sturdier frame of a Cardassian woman, that was for certain.
She shook her head, removing the earring and sitting it aside before she stepped into the sonic shower. While it would never be the same as a water shower, she had to admit that it relaxed her some, although it didn't divert her thoughts from their present course.
She changed into a crimson shirt, made of light and flowy, yet clingy material with a low, boat-style neckline. After a moment's thought she replicated a simple skirt of a similar golden material. Finally, reluctantly, she retrieved her earring from the bathing room, and put it back in.
There was no changing what she was. And what planet she was born on didn’t say anything about who she was as a person.
She went out and tidied the living area of her quarters. She straightened the pillow that Dakbar had been holding while he was there. She picked up the two mugs and slowly, reluctantly took them to the replicator to be recycled.
Come on, Rychel, must you always be so needlessly, hopelessly romantic? she thought.
Sighing, she grabbed a padd from beside her bed, curled up in a little ball on her sofa, and began to read.
Meanwhile, Dakbar had wandered the ship aimlessly. It was becoming a habit for the Cardassian and the crew were getting used to seeing him in odd locations all over the vessel at odd hours of the day and night. He couldn't sleep and he wasn't hungry. In the past month, he had lost some weight, which was especially evident in the hollows around his eyes.
He paused and looked around, noticing where he had ended up. "Subtle," he laughed sarcastically at himself as he stared at Rychel's door. The redhead had been in his thoughts constantly for hours, his feet taking him where he had been once before. Running a hand over his shaved head, he put the other hand on her door. "Computer," he asked. "Location of Lieutenant Kayden."
"Lieutenant Kayden is in her quarters."
It was his imagination, but he immediately detected the odor of tea. Somewhere in those quarters, was a small, enthusiastic woman. He imagined what she had done after her shift and where she was inside the room. In his mind, he broke into the room, forcefully carried her into the bedroom, threw her down and made her cry his name.
Sweating, Dakbar pulled his hand away and wiped it on his abdomen.
Not today. He took in a sharp breath.
Not today...
He stepped backwards until his spine was against the far wall and he just stood there, staring at the doors which protected her.
Try as she might, Rychel could not focus on her reading. Some might have blamed the topic of her book, as Romulan covert activities were hardly something that most would find fascinating. But up until yesterday, she had eagerly devoured every last word. Now... she was distracted.
Sighing, she adjusted herself on the sofa, trying to find a position that felt more comfortable. But comfort didn't come. You'd think after spending the past 6 years with roommates that I would be glad to finally have a place to myself, she thought. At the Academy, and as an ensign, privacy was a luxury that wasn't allowed to her.
She debated for a moment just walking around through the corridors, and exploring the Talon. It was a new posting after all, and there were myriad things that she hadn't explored yet. But she didn't want to look like the lost little new girl, so she decided that likely wasn't the best course of action.
She sat down her book, and brewed up a cup of green tea. The human beverage was something that had often calmed her back at the Academy, and she hoped that she could rely on it's effects once more. She sweetened it with a bit of honey, then carried it back to the sofa. She sipped it slowly as she read, hoping at some point her heart would remove itself from her throat.
She thought she heard the sounds of someone out in the corridor, and nearly got up to check, but forced herself to sit back down again. There are hundreds of people on this ship. There's always going to be someone in the corridor, she chided herself.
With a resigned sigh, she stood up, tossing the padd onto the sofa, and disappeared into her room. From a compartment underneath her bed, she withdrew a small, neatly wrapped package. It had been a gift from her brother when she was assigned to the Talon. She unwrapped it slowly, careful not to tear the paper. As she expected, inside was a lovely wooden box, with intricate carvings. Desan always did know the styles that Rychel liked the most. Within the wooden box were several bottles of Bajoran springwine. Rychel knew that synthehol wasn't going to do the job on a night like tonight, and no one would fault her a glass of wine on a lonely night.
She reached another box and procured a crystalline wine glass, and poured the Springwine into it. Returning to the living area, she flopped back onto the couch and took a quick sip.
I hope one glass is enough…
Dakbar didn't know how long he had stood there, but a cramp in his calf muscle told him he needed to move. Pushing from the wall, he started to walk away, then turned around and paced in front of her door. Only when someone else came by did he keep moving, but returned as soon as the corridor was clear again.
Not today.
He shook his head sharply and rubbed the back of his neck. This was going to be a long night. He was pacing again, getting more and more frustrated with himself by the minute.
Just go to your quarters.
He stopped and put his hand again on her door, as if he could feel her through it.
Stop it.
His hand reached up and hit her door chime.
Run.
Clenching his jaw, he planted his feet and waited.
It was funny, Rychel mused, the way that one glass of wine turned into two, then two turned into... how many bottles was it that Desan gave me, anyway? She checked, and there was still some left, so that was a good sign. She grabbed another bottle and took it out to the living area, where she sat it down on the table and poured another glass.
The book that she'd been reading was starting to get interesting again - well, interesting to anyone who cared about telepresence operated drone-ships and their influence on covert military action. Still, she found her thoughts strayed from it rather more frequently than she would have liked them to.
She wasn't quite sure how long she sat there reading, or how much wine she'd consumed, when a chime sounded at her door. She checked the padd she kept next to her to make certain that she'd not forgotten any of her duties for the day, and found everything was complete, which meant it likely wasn't a work-related visit.
Perhaps, just perhaps her hoping and wishing had actually gotten her somewhere for once.
Daring not to hope too much, she jumped up quickly, and ran over to the doorway, with agility and grace that was amazing given her slightly inebriated status. She hit the button which opened the door, and snaked the arm that was carrying her drink behind her back, the wine glass dangling from between her fingers.
It was him. She had to play it cool.
She smiled coyly. "Helik?" She said softly. "What are you doing up at this hour?"
"I am unable to sleep," he said.
A flicker of hope surged through the Bajoran's lithe body. Perhaps there was something between them, and she hadn't just imagined it. What other reason would there be for him to show up to her quarters this late in the evening?
She stepped aside, still keeping the glass concealed behind her for the moment. "Please, come in?"
She was hiding something behind her back. He laughed to himself at the clumsy way she did so. It was quite obvious. "You don't have a weapon back there, do you," he asked.
She giggled a bit, "I don't know. Perhaps I do. I never know when I'm going to need to defend myself against an intruder in the middle of the night, you know." She grinned wickedly up at the Cardassian. Under ordinary circumstances, she would likely be terrified that he was going to report her, and that she would be demoted - or worse. But since it was him, she hoped that it would all work out in her favor.
"I see," he said. "So you were planning on using this, how?" He could see several options, but he wasn't sure an engineer would, especially one who was drunk.
"Well, I hadn't planned quite that far ahead yet," she admitted. "Perhaps I could shatter it and then use it as a makeshift shiv, though?" Still, she doubted that even with a shiv and her deceptively large upper body strength that she could defend herself against Dakbar.
He grabbed her arm and drew it around. The alcohol sloshed in the glass as it appeared. Plucking it from her hand, he sniffed the contents. "Really, Lieutenant. Alcohol? On the Talon? Do I need to quote regulations at you?" He looked at her eyes. They showed signs of inebriation. What was that word his roommate used to say? Score.
His words were threatening, but his tone was not. She feigned fear. "Oh, no, please don't report me," she said, her eyes wide. She grasped him by the wrist, pulling him back into her room to allow the door to close behind him.
Dakbar’s eyes opened wide as she took him by the wrist and pulled him into the room. If that wasn't an invitation… "What is this," he asked. "It does not smell familiar." He handed it back to her, then scanned her body quickly, noting where the flimsy blouse clung to her curves. Perhaps this was a good idea after all.
"It's Springwine," she explained, taking a quick sip. "Here, you should have some." She sat down her glass quickly, and disappeared into the other room, producing a second, identical glass.
"I-"
But she was off like a shot, moving surprisingly well for what he had seen by the condition of her eyes. The skirt she wore chased after her legs, swirling and floating like happy children around a treat. While she was away, he moved over to the couch and glanced at the displayed page on the padd, but quickly stepped away as he heard her returning.
She quickly poured another glass, and gestured for Dakbar to come over. "Please, have a seat," she said, removing the padd from where she'd placed it on the seat, and sitting it instead on the table.
Every action, every glance showed him that she was happy to see him. Alcohol had a way of releasing inhibitions, exposing parts of the psyche that were normally kept hidden. Part of his training had involved getting as drunk as possible and never giving in to questioning. As he sat down, he gestured to the padd. "What were you reading," he asked genially. He sat down in the middle of the couch, not at the end.
Her face flushed slightly in embarrassment. At least she'd gotten finished with the Cardassian books that she'd been reading, that would probably strike him as being quite odd. "It's a book about Romulan covert activities in the 22nd century," she explained. "Specifically, Telepresence-controlled drone-ships." She sat down on the couch beside Dakbar, and took another sip of her wine. It had been fermented by her uncle, who had a rather large plot of land that supported a successful vineyard. The bottles that Desan had sent her were quite good. She would need to thank him later.
She was still holding the glass she had poured for him. "May I?" Before she could reply, he reached forward and wrapped his large hand around it and her own hand. Drawing it forward, dragging her along, he took a sip. His eyes met hers. "Excellent," he said. He wasn't talking about the wine. Rychel’s heart raced, and her mind flashed to the brief moment of contact earlier, when he'd reached for her earring.
She wasn't sure if he was referring to the wine, or her choice of reading material, or the fact that she was so close. She decided to respond to the middle option. "I have... somewhat peculiar taste in reading material," she admitted. His eyes were focused on hers, and she felt as though he was looking through them, into what lay underneath. She felt as though he knew every thought that was going through her head, and while this embarassed and scared her, she also had to admit that it was incredibly attractive.
She warred with herself internally. She had the feeling that if she pursued him, that he would stay the night. And right now, after the arguments and the visits cut short by red alerts, and the alcohol... she really wanted that. He would have had to be stupid not to figure as much, and she knew that he wasn't stupid. Still, it wasn't in her nature to sleep with someone her second day on a new ship, and the day after she'd met them.
It wasn't in her nature... she'd never done it before... yet still, this was a time full of new changes. She was on a new ship, with a new rank. What was the worst that could happen.
Her confidence growing, she slid herself closer, until she was completely in Dakbar's lap, his face mere inches from hers.
As her slight weight settled on his thighs, an odd reaction descended upon Dakbar. He should have reacted lustily, his body rising to the occasion. However, he felt his world contract inward and he took in a strangled breath.
The golden red hair in front of him was replaced by closely cropped dark locks. The Bajoran nose, gone, eye ridges forming, a sardonic smile replacing Rychel's innocent grin. He remembered her touch, how it had goaded him forward, teasing, taunting, innocent, then as evil as death itself. Dakbar's breath quickened at the memory. Break him down. He twitched his head sharply, just once, as he remembered the pain.
Rychel saw something in his eyes that she recognized.
Pure, unadulterated fear.
At first, she was slightly offended, but then she realized that there was no way that he was responding to her.
Suddenly, he stood, spilling Rychel to the floor, a glass breaking and scattering shards at his feet. "This is... I...no." He blinked, finally seeing the real woman who had missed colliding her skull against the table by mere millimeters. "I will replace that," he said about the glass. Turning, he hurried from her quarters, but only made it just outside before grabbing the wall for support.
Rychel cursed herself silently for being right in her early impressions of him. No one was that hard on the outside, that afraid of letting others be close. No one except people that had been through tremendous hurt. Growing up on Bajor, she knew the signs of Post Traumatic Stress. She knew how even completely innocent situations could bring back haunting memories.
She stood up quickly, suddenly feeling much more sober than she had mere moments before. She raced outside quickly, and thankfully, the corridor was empty, at least for now.
"Helik," she said softly. She didn't touch him, as she knew that he might perceive that as threatening. His spine stiffened at the sound of her voice. Why had she followed? He had deposited her on the floor of her quarters as easily as garbage.
"Please, come back into my quarters. I know that you don't want anyone to see you like this," her voice was soft, and soothing. She tried to make herself as non-threatening as she possibly could. Her point had validity. He needed to appear strong, invincible, if his mission was to be successful.
"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want," she said. She didn't want him to refuse her offer because he feared that she would pry.
Glancing over his shoulder at her, he stared at her. Why did she care? They were from two opposing worlds, their cultures still healing wounds from many years ago. He knew she didn't know about the recent Cardassian reversal in politics. Few did. Perhaps she was one of those Bajorans who believed that their two cultures were still working toward a common goal. He wanted to laugh at the thought. If Bajor knew what the future held, Rychel would be shutting and locking her door against him.
Yet, there she was, offering him refuge in her world. Was she just naive?
"It's a book about Romulan covert activities in the 22nd century."
Her earlier explanation told him it wasn't true. She was open-eyed about everything, it seemed, but she chose a different path, one of peace.
Moving away from the wall, he left a sweaty palm print on the bulkhead. It faded quickly in the ship's dry air. "Thank you," he said, bowing his head to her. "It is not something I am able to discuss." He was still shaken over the incident. Ever since those days on Cardassia Prime, he had been the pursuer. Rychel being so forward had thrown him off balance, something for which he had been ill equipped to handle. It was definitely a chink in his armor, a danger to his plans.
"Then we won't," she said simply. Unlike many people, who thought that a person was the sum of their pasts, and who tried to know everything about the people that they were attracted to, Rychel believed in embracing a person for who they were now. She had no concerns who Helik used to be. She only cared about who he was now, and who he could become.Rychel felt a flicker of hope as Dakbar retreated back into her quarters. She couldn't figure out the glance that he gave her as he went back in, but she thought there was at least some element of confusion to it.
And why shouldn't there be confusion? To this day, nearly 40 years after the Occupation, there were still hostilities between their people. Rychel was naive enough to think that Cardassians and Bajorans could ever live in peace. Even if the Occupation would have never happened, the Bajoran people were too bound by religion and superstition, and the Cardassians believed that religion was a point of extreme weakness.
It just wasn't going to happen. No, Rychel was not that naive.
Rychel did know that not every Cardassian was a cold-blooded killer like some Bajorans perceived them to be. She'd read the tales of the few that still held onto the Oralian Way - the old Gods of Cardassia's past. And she, Rychel, considered herself to logical, to reasonable to blindly believe that everything in her life was caused by the Prophets. She had free will.
And it appeared that for the moment at least, her will was to be with Dakbar, regardless of what that entailed.
He followed her back into her quarters and shivered slightly. "Would you have a blanket," he asked. For some reason, he felt chilled to the bone.
"Of course. The Talon is frightfully chilly," she said. She retrieved a blanket from her bedroom. The scientific part of her mind pondered over the fact that the blanket was probably covered in her pheromones, and she dismissed the thought for the moment. That was something that she could worry about once Helik seemed more comfortable again. She handed him the blanket, cleaned up the remaining glass shard from the floor, and poured another glass of wine, which she sat next to her own in the event that Helik wanted it.
A wave of relief swept over him. Most women would have pushed the issue with a whine of "tell me" which would have made him bolt. Instead, she ran and got him a blanket and cleaned up the mess he had made, bustling around him as if he was no threat at all. A small, genuine smile pushed at his mouth as he watched. The new, extra glass of wine was enticing and he could feel the after-effects of the adrenaline surge causing him to feel weak. Gripping the blanket with one hand, he picked up the glass and sat down heavily at the end of the couch.
As if nothing had happened, Rychel asked, "When you were at the Academy, did you ever have the occasion to visit the Grand Canyon on Earth?"
"Briefly," he replied, after taking a sip. "But it was for a training mission, not pleasure. It snowed at night and I spent most of the evening huddled around the fire." He closed his eyes, a peaceful memory finding its way through the darkness. "In the morning, I was still there, clinging to the last embers for warmth...and then the Terran sun rose scarlet in the distance, casting its light and creating shadows through the canyon." He opened his eyes and realized her hair was the same shade as some of those canyon walls. How beautiful those strands must be in the light of the sun.
Helik seemed to be getting settled somewhat comfortably, and even was willing to try the wine again. Rychel took that as a good sign. Also, he seemed to be almost smiling. Not the same all-knowing grin that he'd used before, but something more genuine. She picked up her glass and took a quick sip as she curled up beside him on the couch.
Clearing his throat, he looked away. "You have been there, I assume."
"I used to transport there during vacations from class," she explained. She had a feeling that he would have liked it as much as she did. "It was really nice in the summer. I liked the heat. There were great places to rock climb, and the sunrises and sunsets made me wish I was a painter. Holovids just don't do them justice." She smiled as she too remembered her experiences at the Grand Canyon. Her friends hadn't understood her obsession with the place, as when they were in the Academy, they had always wanted to go shopping on the moon or something of the nature. She'd always wanted someone to go with her.
"I hope that we'll have shore leave on Earth at some point so I can visit again," she said. She also hoped that one of the planets they came across in the Gamma Quadrant would have something similar. She took another sip from her wine, content just to sit there with him and reminisce about the past, and of course, the future as well.
"Unfortunately, I did not get to enjoy our shore leave on Earth last time the Talon was there. I had obligations that had to be fulfilled." Debriefings, meetings, and interrogation. He pushed those thoughts away and looked back at Rychel.
"Well, hopefully next time around you won't have those obligations and you'll be able to enjoy it," she said. She knew from her brother's work that the life of Starfleet security was often a somewhat lonely one. You were expected to work even when everyone else was on leave, and you frequently couldn't tell your loved ones what was going on in your day to day life. That was something she understood all too well.
"I doubt that, but thank you." He gave her a small nod and examined the wine in his glass. It was very pleasing and he could understand why she liked it.
Rychel found that he didn't seem so tense as he did before when she'd found him on her doorway. Getting his mind onto more pleasurable thoughts seemed to have done the trick, at least for now. Her mind pondered other pleasurable pursuits, but it seemed like his earlier outburst had been triggered by her forwardness. She resolved to not try and take control again.
"Did you ever get to go down to Etimon while we were in orbit? Or have you heard what the planet is like at all?" She suspected that it would be far easier for them to visit Etimon than Earth for the foreseeable future.
"No. I was busy here." That was the truth. "From what I heard, Etimon is very lush during the rainy seasons. The atmosphere changes hue depending on the seasons and how the energy from the planet is reflected. There appears to be a small power struggle, but with Ahska's return, that may settle down." He hoped it didn't. Politically unstable planets were ripe for conquest. "The main capital of Retanya has some beautiful architecture. You would enjoy it. Several of the crew are proud of the holoimages they obtained there."
"That sounds really fascinating," she said. "I wonder if we have any information in the ships computer about the politics or the architectural history yet," she added. She loved reading about other cultures, especially ones that were completely different from her own.
"Since they have gone through the process of becoming Federation citizens, part of the process is data collection. It would be a good guess that the information is there. It is too bad you did not have the opportunity to meet Ahska or her father." Rychel seemed to be the type of personality that would have meshed well with the young woman.
She took another sip of wine, draining her glass, and refilled it once more. Looking at Helik's glass, she realized it was a bit low as well, and refilled it also. "Ahska left the ship the day after I came aboard, although I have heard people talking of her. She sounds like a nice person. Then again, I tend to see the good in everyone."
Dakbar should have been happy to hear that little nugget. It could be useful. However, he found himself feeling despondent. He thought she was being nice to him because, well... He sighed as he realized she was probably this way with everyone. A change of subject was in order. "There is a planet not far from here that is composed mostly of pressurized carbon. It-"
Her eyes widened, her technical brain understanding what that meant, "So it's a giant diamond?"
He balked, forgetting where he was and had given out information he should not even know. "Or so I hear."
She clapped her hand over her mouth, which gave her a quite comical appearance as her eyes were still wide at the thought of a planet-sized diamond. This made him laugh and he put the wine down before he spilled it. She removed it a moment later to speak. "I understand, it's a Security thing, you're not supposed to talk about it. I won't tell anyone."
She was one of a kind, that was certain.
She continued on, without even acting like he'd told her any sort of privileged information. "Where is your favorite place in the galaxy?" She asked curiously.
"It used to be home, but not anymore. I guess I am searching for that place. My roommate at the Academy had a little plaque that his mother had made him. It was overly sentimental, but he put it on the wall anyway. It said, 'home is where the heart is'." Dakbar shrugged. "That plaque was decorated with all kinds of swirly hearts and over-ambitious calligraphy. It was embarrassing." Still, he missed the guy, even though the man was responsible for many embarrassing moments for the Cardassian.
"Humans have such cute expressions," she said.
"I guess it is true for those whom know where their heart actually is."
She nodded emphatically. "It's a lot harder when you're on a starship," she commented. "Especially when you get transferred around a lot. I did some weapons systems research at a Starbase near Tyree, and we would visit when we had leave. The planet was really interesting, nearly the entire planet was one giant desert. There was some great rock-climbing there," she said.
"It sounds like you'll climb just about anything," he said. Grabbing the edge of the blanket, he wrapped it tighter around him. Just the mention of a desert made him long for a warmer environment.
"Pretty much," she said with a grin. “And I hope at some point to consider the Talon home," she added.
Her smile was engaging, but now he knew better. She probably had every man in the ship knocking on her door. "If the Prophets are willing, hm?" He had no idea why he brought them up and he chided himself for being sarcastic, knowing she had been having a crisis of faith. However, deep inside, he wanted to hurt her for stringing him along, whether it was intentional or not. He put the glass down on the table and took a deep breath. Her scent was on the blanket and, again, he fought the need to throw her down and-
Rychel, who had done enough reading of Cardassian novels to understand that verbal sparring was a common form of courtship, went along with the question. "I have no problem believing that the Prophets exist in a temporal state that transcends our own, and as a result, can see things that happen in the future," she said, taking a sip of her wine. "But I refuse to believe that the will of someone else controls what happens in my life. I'm loyal. I'm determined. I have a strong sense of duty, and I'm willing to do whatever is necessary to get where I want to be. I want to succeed because of my own merits, not because I wrote my wishes on a scroll and burned them in a temple," she explained.
As she began talking about the Prophets, he looked up. Her words seemed rehearsed, as if she had been planning them for quite some time. Dakbar wondered whom she was trying to convince, the listener, or herself. Anyone who believed they were in control of their life was fooling themselves. There were always outside forces huddling in the darkness, pulling the strings.
He started to get up, when she stopped him.
"It looks like you were celebrating something. I should probably go and leave you to it."
Rychel couldn't quite understand where he'd gotten that idea from. "No! No, it's not that at all," she said quickly. Her face flushed a bit.
Oh? Dakbar sat back down. He was beginning to see that blushing was quite common for the Bajoran.
"If you want the truth, I started drinking because ever since I saw you in the Mess Hall yesterday morning, I haven't been able to get you off of my mind." There. She'd said it aloud. She chewed nervously at her bottom lip as she waited for his response.
He fought back the delicious smile that wanted to escape. Should he tell her? His need for control fought with his need to have her. Here, he had not needed to resort to drugs or deception. Here, she actually wanted him. It was an odd feeling. And she could be useful. He feigned embarrassment and looked into her eyes. Yes. He would tell her. "I stood outside your door for an hour before I rang the chime." Turning slightly, he opened the blanket, holding it outward, and beckoned her inside its warm folds.
Rychel laughed. "Earlier... I actually thought I heard you out there, I just wrote it off as overactive imagination." She smiled at him once more as he invited her into the blanket, and joined him, snuggling up next to him. She let out a small sigh of contentment. "I'm not really the type to get interested in men, not since I was at the Academy at least. Since then I've mostly focused on my research."
"That is admirable."
She took a quick sip of her wine, grinning at some inner thought. "I've always sort of been fascinated with things that go boom," she explained. "So when I'm not repairing holodecks and replicators and the like, I spend my time studying weapons modifications - handheld as well as ship-based."
Well, that was unexpected! "I would not peg you as someone interested in that kind of thing," he admitted as she settled herself against him. "Don't take that the wrong way," he laughed. "Bajorans are not known for their zeal for weaponry." It was one of the reasons they had been so easy to overcome.
"I admit, I had no interest until I got to the Academy. I was thinking I'd end up handling Information Systems or something," she said. "But, I ended up tinkering with a Type 3 phaser as part of a project - we were trying to make them more powerful than Cardassian phase-disruptors using only commonly available parts." She paused. "My project kind of gotten out of hand. It ended up not being capable of being fired anymore, as it was less of a portable explosive. Blew up a huge crater in a mountain on the moon."
He chuckled. "I'm sure the brass loved it, though. Sounds like you had the power you wanted."
As she spoke, she'd relaxed more into Dakbar's side, surprised at how comfortable she was being next to him. She sighed contentedly, placing her hand lightly on his leg. She sighed in contentment. Without realizing she'd let her head rest itself on Dakbar's shoulder. She wasn't quite certain why, but when she was with him, she felt comfortable, and safe. There were very few people who she felt like this around, and she was glad that he seemed to share her interest. Her head fit easily into the natural pocket made by his neck ridge and shoulder, almost as if she were made for him.
Dakbar enclosed the blanket around them and he left his arm where it rested around her. "I would like to see some of your work." If she was doing research for Starfleet weapons, he was definitely interested. His fingers gently caressed the softness of the fabric under his hand.
She reached across him to pick up the Padd that she had been reading from earlier, tapped a few buttons, and handed it to Dakbar. "I've been working on a new emitter crystal for type-3b assault rifle. Starfleet sends them out to the field with emitter crystals that are only around 92% efficiency level because more efficient crystals are difficult and time consuming to create. We've been using a lithium-copper superconductive material for that for almost 200 years now. I've been looking for Gamma Quadrant materials that would been more efficient. There are a few good candidates. If they work on the small scale, I could convince the Chief to test it on a larger scale."
He took the offered padd and read with interest what she showed him. In his hands was gold. Information that could easily be passed on to the right people. Information that-
She shifted closer and he became distracted. "Have you looked into the rocks on Etimon? Their energy is quite powerful.A necklace a medic brought back disrupted instruments in Sickbay for an hour before they figured out what was causing it. I'm sure you could borrow it." " He shut his mouth quickly. Did he just give her help on building a weapon? What is wrong with me? He needed a reminder to why he was there and his mission, and that reminder was in the words she had said earlier.
Her interest was piqued. "No, I don't think we've been given access to that data yet. I'll have to check in with the geologists when things calm down a bit," she responded. It did make sense that if the Etimonians had a unique relationship with energy that their resources and technologies could be quite useful to scientific developments. If she could be the one to harness that power, it would likely be good of her future. It meant a specialist position at minimum, perhaps a research position at Starfleet Headquarters.
"You thought you'd end up in Information Systems? I had hopes to one day be the Ambassador for Cardassia." That said, the memories of his missing year at the Academy came back to him, and renewed his purpose. He studied the information on the padd, committing it to his photographic memory.
"Really?" She pondered this information over for a moment. "I think you would have been good at it. You have a noble bearing, and you're quite interesting to talk to. And there's just something about your eyes that is extremely compelling," she said, flushing slightly.
It was one of the reasons he had been chosen for his mission. He remembered succinctly the physical evaluation when he was first brought in. It was as if they were evaluating a commodity.
"Perhaps it isn't too late to consider it?" She looked at him intently, licking her bottom lip slightly. There was something extremely compelling about him, and she couldn't quite figure it out. But she knew one thing - she really, really liked whatever it was.
He sighed and squeezed her tighter to him. "Much too late," he said. "I am-"
Idiot.
"Are you sure you have no Orion blood in you," he asked. "I feel as if I can tell you anything." This was dangerous. One slip, one wrong word, and he would be exposed. It had almost happened, just then, and for what? A small, insignificant Bajoran. Yet, there he sat, his strong arms wrapped around her, her scent wafting up around him to be taken in with every breath. Many have died because of the wiles of a woman. But what a way to die.
"Nope, 100% Bajoran, insofar as my medical records show," she responded. "I'm glad that you feel that way. It really means a lot to me. I know that you don't seem like the type to just give trust away easily, and I'm truly honored." She hadn't noticed that he had halted in the middle of what he had said, but she did not push him for further information. He would tell her if and when he thought it necessary.
He didn't know what to say. She was so easy-going and giving that it was sending his mind, and body, spiraling to places it shouldn't be going.
"I'm sorry that things with your career didn't turn out the way that you'd expected them to, but I'm sure that it's all for the best," she said. She knew that he'd lost his parents, and she assumed that it was related to the reasons why he was unfit to be an Ambassador. She only hoped that she could help him move on from the pain that plagued his past, and to be happy once more. The tension in the air was so thick that it was physically palpable. She wanted to make idle chit chat, but nothing came to mind. She could barely hear her own inner monologue, for her heart was pounding so fast that she could hear it beat in her ears. Her lips were slightly parted, as she couldn't seem to keep her breath, and from time to time her tongue darted out to moisten them. She was painfully aware of how near he was to her, and even more aware of how easy it would be for him to just pull her onto his lap and push her skirt up...
"One would hope." It was a lie. All for the best? Would she say that when he ended up betraying them all and the Talon hung lifeless in space, a burned out husk? He glanced at her, past the long eyelashes to the trusting eyes. He remembered when he had blind optimism, before things went dark and filled with pain. It seemed like so long ago. She blinked and he snapped back to reality. She must be saved. What a ridiculous thought! Dakbar was beginning to think he had been drugged by the same chemicals he used on others. The Order must prevail. Looking away, he stared at the Bajoran decor. She will die for the cause.
She forced herself to regain control. She should say something. Words... words... anything. Comment about the recent red alerts, or the Vulcan baseball team, or the weather on Terra. Say something.
The hand that had moved to rest on his leg caressed him softly, her fingers drawing idle patterns on the fabric of his uniform trousers. It was hard for her not to lean forward, to kiss him, to feel his body against hers. But she would not do anything further until either he did, or he invited her to.
Her fingers were like small bolts of electricity on his leg and he could barely stand it any longer. His lips parted and, in one strong swoop of his arm, her body was facing him. His eyes bored into her. If she were to die, then he would know her first. He stared intently at her, past her eyes, into the darkest recesses of her being. She felt as though every memory, every embarrassing moment, every triumph... all of it was laid bare before him. But despite the fact that he could see through her, despite the fact that every time he surveyed her person she felt as though she stood naked before him... despite all of that, he still seemed genuinely surprised when she spoke.
He turned his head to look away, and his body moved against her. Her skin sung out from beneath the fabric separating them, and yearned to be touched. He pulled her closer to him, and her breath caught in her throat. She could smell the scent of the wine on his breath, and her gaze drifted down to his lips.
"Do you want me," he asked, his voice deep and powerful. The raging of his heart almost overwhelmed him as he waited for her answer. Her body, her eyes, the dew that appeared above her lip, all told him she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, all she could do was nod silently. Did she want him? Honestly, if he left right now, she feared that she would never come down from the hormone-induced high she was experiencing. As she nodded, he felt victorious. How easy this had been.
She cleared her throat. "I do," she said, her voice low and husky. She slowly brought her arms up, not wanting a repeat experience of his earlier fear. Her hands wrapped around his neck, rubbing against the ridges that were iconic for his species. He took in a breath and ground his teeth together, trying to stay sane against the innocent, but intoxicating motion she had inadvertently made.
"Please, Helik," she said softly.
No one could fault him now. She had given her approval, asked for it. His hands picked her up roughly and he pushed her down to the floor, shoving a table out of the way. It bashed against the wall, scattering the contents to the ground, spilling wine.
He didn't care.
He stood above her for a moment, looking at his prize. His work, his mission, had all lead up to this. The domination of his enemy. Dropping down, straddling her, he pushed her arms back, scraping them across the surface on which he had placed her. It probably would leave marks on her ivory skin.
He didn't care.
Quickly, he tore at her blouse, her dress, tearing them to shreds. It felt expensive. It felt handmade. It felt like an heirloom. As he exposed her flesh, his motions became even more frenzied, like an animal trying to get to the soft underbelly, the most tender of morsels. His nails raked her skin, drawing blood.
He didn't care.
His hand found its way to her neck and he tilted her head back, stretching it until the tendons stood out in sharp relief, a pale comparison to his own, but enticing nonetheless. His lips met hers hungrily. Eyes open, never closing, he watched for any emotion. He wanted to see her fear.
He didn't-
Those eyes looked into his and he pulled away. Rolling away from her, he came to a halt and sat, staring, his hands dragging bloody palm prints across the floor. "I..." He stood, stumbling, looking down at the tattered figure. "I'm sorry." Wiping his hands on his uniform, he turned and ran. Out of her quarters, away from those trusting eyes.
He cared…