Thanks again for your lovely comments and suggestions. Duly noted! -Becca
I thought that Starfleet headquarters was cold and impersonal. I, however, didn't have the Daystrom Institutee to juxtapose it to. As we move closer and closer to its lonely architecture, I note how akin it is to a 12th century gothic cathedral; its lines are sharp and imposing. Unlike most buildings with transparent windows, the Daystrom's are blackened, thick, and imperturbable. Lush trees surround it, quite a difference from the city proper. It's cooler here and the moisture in the air hangs heavier. Birds' songs are audible in the trees around us, creating what should normally be a beautiful sound. Right now, however, it adds an added aura of indescribable isolation.
A sickening feeling settles in the pit of my stomach and I once again pull his hand back. Gods, Beverly, you are such a coward! He turns to me, though, in a moment and makes me feel less alone – less like a frightened schoolgirl; "I know," he whispers. He looks right at me, "I'm scared too."
My previous musings about the cold and imposing architecture are again when we come to the doors: huge, dark massive structures. It's foolish of us, really, just to walk in the front door; 'hi we're here, uh, to pick up our son that you've allegedly taken hostage. Would you mind, eh, just handing him over so we can go home and forget that this week ever happened?' Wishful thinking, Beverly. And yes, it's a callous move, and it's certainly a stunt that we'd never have pulled if we were on the Enterprise and Jean Luc still the clout that he used to. But, now we're essentially menial, pedestrian, civilians. We have no weapons, we have no starship, and we have no battalion. We're alone.
Large hydraulic doors swoosh open when we come into close range and open to us a large, cavernous room. I notice the floors, Vulcan marble mined from the caves to T'Meth. I've only heard about it and seen it once when I was welcomed as a dignitary at a scientific conference on Vulcan. On that trip, I had been taken aback by how utterly black the stone was. Yet, despite its utter colour, it seems to sparkle. My aide on that trip, a young Vulcan medical student, had informed me that the caves of T'Meth offer this marble, which is highly sought after and very, very expensive. She pointed out that many believe it to have mystic, spiritual properties. Then, on Vulcan, it had been alluring. Now, though, it's adds to the cold that I'm feeling not only on the outside, but through every capillary of my body.
The hall is empty. There's a desk in the middle, supposedly where a secretary would sit, but there's no one. The only sounds we hear are the short, shallow tempos of our own breathing and our echoing footsteps on the precious marble.
We come to a halt in the middle of the room. Our footsteps stop. Utter silence… until, "Captain Jean Luc Picard. Dr. Beverly Crusher." It's a Vulcan voice, staid and stoic. There's that distinct sound of footsteps off to our left. Our eyes dart, following their pattern. Nothing, we think initially, not seeing anyone. But then, out of the darkness emerges a tall figure in long black robes. "We've been expecting you."