Hey! Thanks so much to all the reviewers, you guys really make my day! My ISP is giving me problems, sorry this one took so long. Next one should be up tomorrow. :D
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Beka met them in the corridor. "I just finished with Trance #2." She had heard the "all clear" moments before, "What? Did I miss all the fun?"
"Yeah, it was a regular cake walk." Harper answered. "Just three little ones, Tyr didn't even have enough time for his 'I shall crush you under my boot' speech before they all went boom. We were just on our way to medical, wanna join us? Wouldn't want you to miss anymore *fun*." He finished sarcastically but with a twinkle in his eye.
Beka cuffed him on the back of the head and the three fell in step, headed back to med deck and hopefully some answers.
"How is she?" Dylan asked, referring to the purple girl.
"Well, she's....Trance, I guess, maybe it's her...." Beka stammered, "I brought her to medical, she's acting pretty strange, I started to scan her but, well, she's Trance! I'm a pilot, Dylan, not a medic. She told me that she could take care of it herself and that I should come help you. So I secured the room and beat feet outa there." Beka finished with a little shudder. This situation was too confusing. She didn't know what to think or expect and that always left her nervous. She hated not being in control, unable to see ten moves in advance. And, dammit, this was *Trance*! One of her best friends and now she doubted if she could ever trust *either* of them.
Dylan noted Beka's anxiety, surprised and a little taken aback. He never imagined anything would be able to shake this woman whom he considered to be made of steel.
******************
Rommie ushered Gold Trance into her quarters, secured the door and took her post outside of it. Keeping watch and making sure Trance remained confined to her room.
Trance let out a sigh as the door locked behind her. Her dark eyes scanned the room and soon found what she was looking for. A small rectangle near the ceiling on the wall to her right. A ventilation shaft. Perfect. Being the ship's chief medical officer, her quarters were very near the med bay.
She set about making arrangements to pay the *purple pixie* a little visit. She gathered her long hair behind her and secured it with clasp made from a Neitzschean bone spur. She had a personal attachment to this particular bobble and made sure to wear it on *special* occasions. That done, she moved to the consul in her room, keyed in a few commands that blinded Andromeda's sensors which constantly surveyed the room via video feed. The commands also affected randomly selected other areas on the ship, it was subtle enough to appear to be a harmless glitch in Andromeda's systems. She didn't hang around Harper nothing. She wasn't worried about being tracked by her life signs, one of the benefits of her species. As for motion detectors, she had something else in mind to fool them.
There was a small fish tank near the bed, *her* bed, yeah, right, it still stunk of the little coward. This Trance couldn't sleep in it anymore than she could plunge one of her beloved daggers through her own heart. She *hated* these quarters. She would have switched immediately but for the proximity to med bay and the fear or raising suspicions in the crew that was already leery of her.
She shook her head and returned her attention to the task at hand. She approached the tank and casually plucked up its inhabitant. She examined the creature in her hand. It was about the size of a kitten and nearly as cute. It blinked its wide eyes curiously at her as it's gills closed and its air-breathing lung took over. In moments it was squeaking and purring to her, nuzzling the palm of her hand. She stroked it once then closed her fist and tossed it to the waiting tendrils of the carnivorous plant that resided near the desk. It and the fish were the only living things she had allowed to remain in her quarters when she had returned. The motion the plant made as it played with, then devoured its prey would more than convince what remained of Andromeda's sensors that she was still in the room.
Trance smiled to herself, all was going according to plan, even the little "diversion" she had arranged was working nicely. It was easy enough to reroute the Neitzschean slave ships through Slipstream. Her powers allowed her limited manipulation of all strings. The strings of possibility, the strings of time, and what was slipstream strings across the dimensions of space. She only hoped the idiots lasted long enough for her to complete her task. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the "all clear" was sounded. "Damn." She muttered under her breath as she quickly removed the cover of the shaft and hauled herself up.
********************
After Beka had left med bay, Purple Trance set about getting herself cleaned up. She knew she had to get Dylan to listen to her, and *believe* her. She shook her head in disbelief, never had she been so anxious to tell her secrets.
She entered the small med bay bathroom, peeled off her tattered and bloodied High Guard uniform, and kicked it into the corner. Slowly she examined herself in the full-length mirror. The past seven months had not been kind. She had numerous cuts and abrasions but nothing serious, to her at least. Not at all surprised, she noticed that her whole body was caked with sweat and dirt and blood, not all of it her own. She looked past the dirt and noticed how skinny she was. She could never have been called fat but now she realized she could actually count her ribs. Her skin had lost most of its sparkle. It looked dull and pasty. She sighed deeply as she ran her eyes up her body. She brought her gaze up, past the bruises that were forming on her throat and for the first time in a long while she looked at her face, *really* looked. Her cheeks were hollow and stretched. There were deep purple lines of fatigue under her eyes, which had a sunken appearance. She was most disturbed when she gazed into her eyes. Windows to the Soul, Harper had once called them, well, her windows had been broken and then boarded up. There was no sparkle, no sign of life at all. She sighed deeply again and ended it with a little hitch. Tears brimmed her eyes when she let them fall upon her hair. It billowed wildly about her shoulders. Unkempt and unruly, knotted and dirty. She remembered how pretty it once was, how she loved to dress it up with barrettes and make it sparkle. She hated the sight of it now, it looked too much like *her* hair.
Trance's hand shook slightly as she reached for the brush on the back of the sink. She began to stroke her hair with it but it snagged and pulled. She tried to force it through the knots. The tears of anguish that had threatened to fall turned to tears of rage. Quaking with fury at what she had lost, she threw the brush against the mirror, shattering it into a thousand pieces. She gaped at the mess she had made but for once felt no guilt. It felt good actually. The violent display reminded her of why she was here. Vengeance.
With new resolve to rid the universe of the gold skinned liar she stepped into the shower and quickly washed away months of pain, filth and misery. It was absolutely heavenly and she wished she could remain. She noticed the ship had stopped rocking under missile fire and knew the others would be coming to question her soon. With enormous will, she exited the steaming paradise, toweled off and began dressing in the only clothes available to her. A white set of scrubs normally used on Andromeda's patients *mostly used on Harper* she amended with a slight smirk.
She buttoned her blouse as she made her way back to the main medical area to await the rest of the crew.
*********************
********************
Beka met them in the corridor. "I just finished with Trance #2." She had heard the "all clear" moments before, "What? Did I miss all the fun?"
"Yeah, it was a regular cake walk." Harper answered. "Just three little ones, Tyr didn't even have enough time for his 'I shall crush you under my boot' speech before they all went boom. We were just on our way to medical, wanna join us? Wouldn't want you to miss anymore *fun*." He finished sarcastically but with a twinkle in his eye.
Beka cuffed him on the back of the head and the three fell in step, headed back to med deck and hopefully some answers.
"How is she?" Dylan asked, referring to the purple girl.
"Well, she's....Trance, I guess, maybe it's her...." Beka stammered, "I brought her to medical, she's acting pretty strange, I started to scan her but, well, she's Trance! I'm a pilot, Dylan, not a medic. She told me that she could take care of it herself and that I should come help you. So I secured the room and beat feet outa there." Beka finished with a little shudder. This situation was too confusing. She didn't know what to think or expect and that always left her nervous. She hated not being in control, unable to see ten moves in advance. And, dammit, this was *Trance*! One of her best friends and now she doubted if she could ever trust *either* of them.
Dylan noted Beka's anxiety, surprised and a little taken aback. He never imagined anything would be able to shake this woman whom he considered to be made of steel.
******************
Rommie ushered Gold Trance into her quarters, secured the door and took her post outside of it. Keeping watch and making sure Trance remained confined to her room.
Trance let out a sigh as the door locked behind her. Her dark eyes scanned the room and soon found what she was looking for. A small rectangle near the ceiling on the wall to her right. A ventilation shaft. Perfect. Being the ship's chief medical officer, her quarters were very near the med bay.
She set about making arrangements to pay the *purple pixie* a little visit. She gathered her long hair behind her and secured it with clasp made from a Neitzschean bone spur. She had a personal attachment to this particular bobble and made sure to wear it on *special* occasions. That done, she moved to the consul in her room, keyed in a few commands that blinded Andromeda's sensors which constantly surveyed the room via video feed. The commands also affected randomly selected other areas on the ship, it was subtle enough to appear to be a harmless glitch in Andromeda's systems. She didn't hang around Harper nothing. She wasn't worried about being tracked by her life signs, one of the benefits of her species. As for motion detectors, she had something else in mind to fool them.
There was a small fish tank near the bed, *her* bed, yeah, right, it still stunk of the little coward. This Trance couldn't sleep in it anymore than she could plunge one of her beloved daggers through her own heart. She *hated* these quarters. She would have switched immediately but for the proximity to med bay and the fear or raising suspicions in the crew that was already leery of her.
She shook her head and returned her attention to the task at hand. She approached the tank and casually plucked up its inhabitant. She examined the creature in her hand. It was about the size of a kitten and nearly as cute. It blinked its wide eyes curiously at her as it's gills closed and its air-breathing lung took over. In moments it was squeaking and purring to her, nuzzling the palm of her hand. She stroked it once then closed her fist and tossed it to the waiting tendrils of the carnivorous plant that resided near the desk. It and the fish were the only living things she had allowed to remain in her quarters when she had returned. The motion the plant made as it played with, then devoured its prey would more than convince what remained of Andromeda's sensors that she was still in the room.
Trance smiled to herself, all was going according to plan, even the little "diversion" she had arranged was working nicely. It was easy enough to reroute the Neitzschean slave ships through Slipstream. Her powers allowed her limited manipulation of all strings. The strings of possibility, the strings of time, and what was slipstream strings across the dimensions of space. She only hoped the idiots lasted long enough for her to complete her task. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the "all clear" was sounded. "Damn." She muttered under her breath as she quickly removed the cover of the shaft and hauled herself up.
********************
After Beka had left med bay, Purple Trance set about getting herself cleaned up. She knew she had to get Dylan to listen to her, and *believe* her. She shook her head in disbelief, never had she been so anxious to tell her secrets.
She entered the small med bay bathroom, peeled off her tattered and bloodied High Guard uniform, and kicked it into the corner. Slowly she examined herself in the full-length mirror. The past seven months had not been kind. She had numerous cuts and abrasions but nothing serious, to her at least. Not at all surprised, she noticed that her whole body was caked with sweat and dirt and blood, not all of it her own. She looked past the dirt and noticed how skinny she was. She could never have been called fat but now she realized she could actually count her ribs. Her skin had lost most of its sparkle. It looked dull and pasty. She sighed deeply as she ran her eyes up her body. She brought her gaze up, past the bruises that were forming on her throat and for the first time in a long while she looked at her face, *really* looked. Her cheeks were hollow and stretched. There were deep purple lines of fatigue under her eyes, which had a sunken appearance. She was most disturbed when she gazed into her eyes. Windows to the Soul, Harper had once called them, well, her windows had been broken and then boarded up. There was no sparkle, no sign of life at all. She sighed deeply again and ended it with a little hitch. Tears brimmed her eyes when she let them fall upon her hair. It billowed wildly about her shoulders. Unkempt and unruly, knotted and dirty. She remembered how pretty it once was, how she loved to dress it up with barrettes and make it sparkle. She hated the sight of it now, it looked too much like *her* hair.
Trance's hand shook slightly as she reached for the brush on the back of the sink. She began to stroke her hair with it but it snagged and pulled. She tried to force it through the knots. The tears of anguish that had threatened to fall turned to tears of rage. Quaking with fury at what she had lost, she threw the brush against the mirror, shattering it into a thousand pieces. She gaped at the mess she had made but for once felt no guilt. It felt good actually. The violent display reminded her of why she was here. Vengeance.
With new resolve to rid the universe of the gold skinned liar she stepped into the shower and quickly washed away months of pain, filth and misery. It was absolutely heavenly and she wished she could remain. She noticed the ship had stopped rocking under missile fire and knew the others would be coming to question her soon. With enormous will, she exited the steaming paradise, toweled off and began dressing in the only clothes available to her. A white set of scrubs normally used on Andromeda's patients *mostly used on Harper* she amended with a slight smirk.
She buttoned her blouse as she made her way back to the main medical area to await the rest of the crew.
*********************