Chapter Eight: Eye of the Beholder
Marla tucked the slip of paper into her bra as she watched the elevator doors begin to close. She had come to her decision the day before on whether she could handle the task John Harrison needed her to do. He had reminded her who she was, her father's daughter. The daughter of a madman trained in madness. She was crazy enough to go through with the daunting task of locating Harrison's crew and saving them. In turn Marcus would be dead.
A great reward.
"Hold the door!" Her voice sounded hoarse. She had awoken in the middle of the night covered in sweat. Once she realized what was happening to her she had set about covering up the red blisters that were beginning to form across her entire body with smoothing medical remedies and heavy makeup. A small white hand reached out to stop the doors from closing. "Thank you." She was nearly out of breath.
"No problem." Marla could hear the smile in the woman's voice, British and utterly pleasant. "Anything to help a fellow officer." She looked to the woman clad in gray like her. A Starfleet Academy uniform. She had a blonde bob, blue eyes, and a sweet smile. "Where are you headed?"
Marla soon realized she shouldn't have been in the elevator with this woman who perhaps knew nothing about the secret weapons hidden below in Section 31.
"Up." She pressed the next button up that the woman had pressed.
"Medical?" The blonde woman asked with a bit of drop in her expression.
"Yes." Marla lied. "Treatment." She had been to that floor before.
"You seem fine to me. Is it not a physical thing?" Marla squirmed a bit feeling like Marcus or Harrison was interrogating her. She really thought the woman was absolutely dense or just being polite. She nearly looked like a walking skeleton.
"Lots of good makeup." Marla stated. "Underneath I look horrid." The woman stepped a bit closer to admire Marla's work. The elevator dinged allowing the doors to slide open to the woman's floor.
"I wish I could do my blush that well."
"Carol!" A voice called from the floor they had arrived at.
"Good luck!" The woman known as Carol shouted waving Marla along as she left her.
The red head gave a tiny wave before seeing the elevators close. She sighed realizing she would definitely need luck. Her card was scanned. Section 31 and Harrison awaited. When Marla tucked herself through the doors into the work room she could see something had returned to the care of the two of them.
"Marcus didn't like his modified torpedo?" The object had been missing for some time now. It seemed well taken care of lying in the middle of the room, hatch opened. Harrison was committing himself to new plans for something or other that didn't concern Marla. He only peered up from under his brow when she spoke.
"I asked to look it over. Before mass production begins." He sounded calm. Marla peered to him watching his fingers move across the padded paper. She had never asked why he used paper. She only assumed it was because of whom he was, a man of the past and of simpler times.
Marla couldn't understand Harrison's words. He perfected things. Giving something a once over appeared utterly useless. She had read stories that the notion of anything less than perfection among the augments was insulting. She admired the weapon seeing how new and gleaming it appeared to be. She wasn't good at noticing the functions of new weaponry. Marla's talents still laid in the old. She was a historian after all.
"You can have a look if you'd like." Marla twisted her head. Harrison's hands were behind his back. He was in front of the work station, his work abandoned. His eyes were watching her with relaxation.
"I'm not very well skilled in advance weaponry." The woman told the augment tilting her head slightly. "My skills are better suited to restoring weapons of your time. I'm rubbish with technology."
Her father had played a factor there. He believed technology seared the brain left the machines to work out your problems. When Marla was young she thought her father had been a genius in his thought process. Part of her still believed him.
"Go and take a look, Marla." He nudged his chin forward in encouragement.
She stood there for a moment in confusion or shock. She wondered if she had heard right. Had he just spoken her name? Had it been in almost a soft caring way? Marla then decided she had been mistaken. She let her eyes fall to the torpedo. She knelt down to it seeing the outside. It didn't have much to it. She'd have to look inside..
Marla felt around on the inside before letting herself poke her head to look inside. The light outside the shell was bright enough to notice the details Harrison had inputted. She saw the inside was detailed, but was unsure for what. She felt around the top before her finger found an inside pocket. Only the tip of her finger could wiggle through the lining of the torpedo. Marla let out a breath when she felt the tiny paper, another note from Harrison. Maybe he was regretting his decision to help her. Perhaps he realized he didn't need her to help him take himself and his crew from this place. She pinched the note between her fingers deciding to replace it with a note of her own.
She traded one note for another squeezing Harrison's request into the cup of her bra attempting to readjust herself before she allowed herself up. She hesitated deciding instead to retrieve Harrison's note while her eyes were still inside the torpedo away from the cameras. She could read the small slanted print clearly. Her fear had suddenly returned when she read the words:
I can save you.
Marla wasn't sure why that noted a fearful reaction in her. Perhaps she had been committed to her death for so long the notion of being saved when she didn't want it was terrifying. She was helping Harrison in order for Marcus to die. She wouldn't have to face jail time if the plan succeeded or if it failed. Marla McGivers would be dead as soon as the sickness decided to take her. Now Harrison was offering another part of the deal. Another cause for her to help him more. She had already placed her note inside before seeing his. Her note was merely an agreement.
Your crew is in my care.
She tucked the note back into her cup accidently uplifting more of her breast as she peeked her head up. Harrison had his eyes on her. His brow rose when he watched her adjusting the plump slightly burned flesh as her fingers had rubbed off some of the ointment. When the burnt skin hit air she didn't wince. Pain was never something she took much mind to. Sometimes she even enjoyed a little pain, only a little.
She noted how his body seemed to become tenser at the appearance of a female body part left exposed. She rolled her eyes before smiling. Marla stood up to Harrison who let his eyes fall to the torpedo. He squatted down closing the lid with a swish.
"It doesn't appear like the core is ruined." The red head let out with a shake of her head. He returned back to a standing position. "I don't know why you needed another look. It looks ready to go."
"It needed some modifications I realized." His eyes trailed across the length of the torpedo, tail to head.
"Well what you've done seems sufficient." Marla concluded peering around the room. There were old weapons to tamper with.
She turned abruptly leaving Harrison to marvel at his work. She went to a table with a rifle that had seen better days. She soon noticed the weapon was not energy based. Her toes curled at the idea of bullet lodged somewhere in the gun. Bullets were so much more exciting than flashes of light. She pulled the thing apart with ease however the process was gentle. It was rusted and worn. She carefully placed each part in its spot. Marla noticed Harrison watching her as he returned to his station. As she worked she decided to make a playful banter with Harrison. After all they were to be working together much closer now, plotting to take, kill, and heal.
"What does Marcus have you working on, Harrison?" She wondered aloud. "Something chaotic for his self-righteous war?"
"Wouldn't it be best if you didn't know, Lieutenant?" His voice seemed to echo in its depth.
"I know too much already." She unlocked an empty shell with disappointment. "Let's put another nail in my sinking coffin." She turned her head to peer at him. Marla could see him smirk, a soft chuckle caught in his throat. His eyes remained on his plans.
"A dreadnought class ship." He told the woman. "Two times the size and three times the speed of a regular Starfleet vessel." Marla watched Harrison's lips move at an incredible speed as he spoke. She thought he meant to say more, but he stopped.
"Advanced weaponry?" Marla knew the answer. Harrison made a gesture on the paper as if making a long line with his pen. She only saw his head nod. "Marcus wants a combat ship then."
"Yes, Lieutenant." Harrison nearly sighed the words. "It is what I am here for."
Marla looked down at her dismantled gun with thoughts lingering in her head. Marcus had meant to keep her around to put her in front of Harrison as a way to witness his actions and intentions. The red head was meant to be a pawn between the two, yet she was still useful. She had restored weapons once dead. Lethal weapons that could help in a coming war with the Klingons. However the weapons were being brought to her less and less. She thought perhaps Marcus was meaning to do away with her soon. Maybe that had been why Harrison was extending another offer to her, to make sure she would accept his offer quickly before her time truly ended.
"What am I here for then?" Her shoulders sagged as she spoke.
She watched his reaction carefully. His eyes slowly rose from his work, forward, thinking for a moment before his head turned, methodically and slowly. His eyes settled on Marla's heavy gaze. She watched as he lifted from his lean to become the soldier once more. His hands were at his side as he walked toward Marla. He was facing her, an arm's length away.
"My assistance." It was a simple answer that didn't need the stride over to her.
"I am here for death." Marla corrected him with confidence. "Both of you want me to die." It wasn't true. Harrison didn't let his expression falter. She knew he wanted her to live. She was merely testing the waters to find out the purpose. Marla let tears settle in her eyes to test his emotional limit. She let the pain turn to something bad instead of motivation. She was allowing herself to feel the burning finally. Perhaps he figured her strategy out. Or perhaps he was playing for the cameras.
"You aren't dead yet, Dr. McGivers." His hand reached out to touch her ash red hair lightly. His fingers were soft and gentle against the strand he took into his touch. Slowly he drew the hair strands toward him careful not to let them fall. He took a step closer allowing his lips to kiss the strands. "In my time many said red hair would not exist in the future, yet here you are."
She barely recognized the statement. He was incredibly close. If she wanted to Marla could have easily placed her hand on his heart once more. She could have felt his beating heart again. The heart of a man from the past that was slowly easing his way into her future, however long that would last.
"A rarity still in this time." It still remained the same about red heads. They were still rare, but not extinct. Not yet. She was proud of that. The hair showed that she was her father's daughter more than any action ever could.
"To see you in your prime," His fingers reached for her face releasing her hair. She knew what was next. The raw edges of the makeup were rubbed off by Harrison's rough touch. It burned, but she let him have it. She liked his fingers against her skin no matter how painful. The red blotches and peeled crusted layers of skin were exposed against her cheek. The reaction would be the same on any other part of her body, unfortunately Harrison was currently only admiring her face. He rubbed the bridge of her nose letting the crisp skin fall to the floor. "Would have been an honor. Marveling in such beauty."
Marla tried not to seem hurt by his touch. The makeup had been a part of a natural soothing process mixing medical solutions and practical lotions, however she wondered if Harrison was testing her in more ways than one now. Like Joaquin would her loyalty constantly be tested by the augment? If so she would have fun keeping up with him.
"This is my prime, John." Marla let her posture show her confidence. "I have never fought harder for my battle scars."