"I had a dream about you once. We were in this room, in its usual barrenness of white. I laid upon you with a scalpel; I made an incision on your eye—those diamonds. With a pair of tweezers in my hands and there it was—I pulled a diamond out of your eye. It was was long, thin, and sharp, but what really interesting about it all is that it was as clear as what you think of me—nothing." Khan/OC.
CHAPTER 1: Admiral and admirable
No one really knew when I had come into the picture. My christening into Section 31 had passed, and no one noticed. I was suddenly there, melted into my work right away without looking up. They might have felt an added feminine presence and a head of inky black hair. Sly as I might think I was for making it happen, I cared little on what I was for other people. I was in and out, quick to my work, efficient to my work, sensitive to my work—is how my supervisor described me on my first official yearly report. Quiet and articulate—but spoke only when necessary. The praise was overwhelming, but it was not so against the growing attachment he had bestowed upon me. The last comment escaped his lips before his abrupt disappearance was during a meeting with the eager Admiral Marcus, who looked like his blue eyes sparkled when I was described as a perfect 'accessory to his ambitions'. I was approached by the Admiral from the territory of his office the next day, his blue eyes twinkling, more obvious than ever:
"You are never to leave my side, lieutenant."
To latch the term ambitious to the Admiral falls too short for his character. Commanding as he is, he never failed to let others see his… interests. It was small at first— increased defenses with the grid shields and energy combusting fuel felt like a feather touch to the Federation— soft, gentle, and pleasing. As time grew, he slowly delved into an advocate of space exploration, all the while hiding his growing content with offensive technology. He was ever so quick to praise the engineers who prostrated the increased saturation of phasers, and shower his attention to any reported Klingon activity. As demanding the Admiral was, his feet were always light, dancing slowly with his goals, taking the hands of those interested, kissing their knuckles, romanticizing them into a waltz of his visions. I, of course prepared the music of his dances, the script for his ethos, the attire for his battles. Firm and forward the Admiral may be to others, he was always taking two more seconds with me, his tone a fraction softer.
His affections were gazing towards my direction during the most subtle moments. His failure to never greet was just a high as his secret adamant way to look directly into my eyes as he spoke. I could feel those eyes with me still, silently upon me whenever I tinkered my PADD with information. The admiral held a distance towards me, as it was always ten centimeters less than any of his commanders, let alone his only daughter, Carol. When struck by grievances of his work and people, his idea of peace in the office apparently included me in it. Though, he never did say whatever eluded him-it seemed evident that I should just be there. I adjusted to this notion a little after the eighth month of working under him.
He closed his eyes slowly and drew his breath into a long sigh "Anna."
"Sir, Commander Owens is waiting in the lobby, minutes early. Shall I go fetch—"
"Sit. I need to see you." He waved his hand towards the stark white chair across from his dark wood desk. I said nothing as I complied, my hands on my lap, posture near perfect, eyes focused on him. I contrasted against his slightly slumped position, but his eyes unwavering towards mine. After a few longer seconds, I inquired "Sir."
The admiral slowly lifted the left of his lips into a pleased smirk. My eyes turned to his lips for his sudden movement, and his grin turned a bit wider as he noticed. After that day, I never saw the gold band that adorned his left hand, nor did I ever see him dance towards his interests ever again.
After finding the Botany Bay, Admiral Marcus stopped dancing. He marched instead. When he received news of the cargo it held, I had never seen him killed with silence. He sat in his office for two days straight, staring at the models of the revolutionary star ships; focused. I noticed this immense shift and stayed at my desk dutifully, canceling all of his previous engagements and meetings without notice. The admiral was left untouched, by my command. This did not go unnoticed and suddenly I was to accompany him to look at the spoils of his discovery as his way of gratitude. As my eyes fell to the precious cargo, I knew that something would change.
The sparkle in the Admiral's eyes was no more. And I am sure that John Harrison was responsible.
