Chapter 05 - Detective Lorca, P.I.
Captain Lorca investigates who or what poisoned Bex.
NOTE: I've been relying WAY too much on dialogue. I blame my experience with script writing. (If something is supposed to happen in a story but the character does not say, write, sign or heavily gesture that thing, then it never happens.) I will try to add a bit more imagery as well as hold back on the 'to be' verbiage, but you may not see these effects in a few more chapters...
TIME: The following story happens between episodes Choose Your Pain and Lethe
My Characters...
Saul: 50, Human, gambler, Construction Crew Manager. Tubby, hairy, looks and sounds a the Magliozzi brothers from NPR's Car Talk. Served time during the Klingon Cold Wars.
Howard: 20, Human, Junior Construction Engineer. Sweet kid, hardworking and loyal, but naive. Probably the most normal person on the Discovery.
Another pinch followed by a dull hiss and Bex awakens to the blinding white lights of the Sickbay. Her stomach and intestines feel like lava about to erupt out of her body. She grips her stomach with pale, wet arms and Dr. Culber administers another round of antibiotics via his hypospray.
"There. That should take care of the gastrointestinal pain."
"H-how... Lon-" she croaks out her throat dry from dehydration.
"Almost 18 hours," he answers with a sweet voice while increasing her IV drip, "Luckily, I was able to synthesize an antibiotic to help leach out the poison deposits on your kidneys and liver."
GRRUURGGGLEEEE
Bex's stomach growls with hot indigestion. Culber notes the worry in her face, "The fresher is right over there. There's no need to feel embarrassed. Your body is doing exactly what it needs to do to rid itself of the poison."
Culber helps his weakened patient to her feet and escorts her to the backroom with her IV drip stand. Bex takes a seat and Culber gives her some privacy in the small but fragrant room. To her comfort, the toilet seat is heated and cushioned. She refuses to listen to some Mozart when the computer offers. The murmurs of nurses and the clanking of medical supplies heard through the door seems much more comforting than Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.
She rests her head against the wall to her side and notices the light bleeding through the bottom of the door dim.
"...Doctor Culber!" for some reason, perhaps because she needs to evacuate her bowels, Bex feels embarrassed to know that Captain checking in on her, "..she doin'?" his voice barely registers.
"She is taking a moment... much better than expected. Besides the minor concussion and lacerations... Multiple organ toxicities... kidneys, liver... heart is fine..." Culber's soft voice answers.
"Was it poison...?"
"...tests came back... synthetic compound of..."
"Arsenic!?"
"...in her stomach... 3.3 grams... worst I've seen, but we have effective treatments..."
"Klingons aren't known for poisoning... their food has arsenic..."
"Was she invited... any dinner parties?"
"..."
"I have something else to show you..."
The two men walk towards the other side of the room and their voices fade to silence. Bex remains hidden away in the refresher until the light at the door increase in intensity, proving that the Captain has left the sickbay. The cold chill of the main room greets the beaded sweat on her body when she returns to the bed.
"Ah! You just missed the Captain," Culber helps Bex back onto her bed so that she doesn't knock her IV out, "He wanted to speak with you, but I told him you weren't interested. How are you feeling?"
"...better," she admits and rolls to her side to sleep.
Several hours later, Bex checks out of sickbay. Her skin still looks a little green, but the sweating fits are gone as well as the need to empty her bladder. Culber instructs her to take it easy and briefs her on the diet she must follow for the next several days. He writes a nutritional prescription to feed to the replicators and implores Bex not only to drink at least 124 ounces of water for the next 5 days but for her to also speak with the guidance counselor aboard the ship.
"It's common procedure with all staff members who have spent any time in enemy custody. I don't want to pressure you, but if you could schedule a time some point this week, that would be great."
"Thank you, Doctor."
"Oh!" Culber remembers one last thing, "Your new PADD and communicator," he hands her a thin gray touchscreen and a smaller device with a gold cover that flips up to reveal a speaker. Both devices have Starfleet Academy engravings, "Welcome back."
Crewmen dash down the hall, running into each other and shouting instructions. For a second, Bex assumes an enemy attack. She checks the lights along the walls and spots no red or yellow and no signs capsizing.
"Excuse me, Commander? What's going on?" Bex spots an older Caitlin.
"W-whuh? Sorry, I can't chat," he turns down towards Engineering.
"Shipping Bay to Impulse Deck," a voice requests over the comm, "Shipping Bay to Impulse Deck."
A familiar group of mechanics in orange coveralls speed walk their way down the corridor, "Oh, Howard!" Bex tries to jog up to them but stops when her stomach tries to cramp. They slow down to her pace, "Are you finished with the Marquis?" she asks.
"Nah," the young mechanic answers, clearly exhausted from a long day's work, "We've just been temporarily reassigned. Lorca's been in a bad mood ever since he returned to the ship."
"Yeah!" speaks up Saul, the rotund overseer of the group, "We've been meanin' to ask you what happened with the Captain. We got a bet goin' whether or not he squealed about the Discovery. I got two bars of Lathium ridin' on he did," his accent resembles something you would hear in old Earth Jersey.
"Boss thinks Lorca blabbed to the Klingons about the ship and now he's scrambling to have everything ready for battle," Howard explains, "I don't get it. I mean. If he really thought the ship was in danger, wouldn't he just take it out of commission?"
"Nah," Saul dismisses, waving his big hairy arms, "Ship's the only thing left he's got to play with. He's ichin' to let her off the leash. So uhh, Bex. What happened in that prison ship? Cap spill the beans?" the group of seven make their way up the steps to the Impulse Engine Room.
"More like he was bugged, but I don't think the Klingons got much."
"Ehh.." the large man complains, "That's not enough to settle the bet either way!"
She chuckles a little, "Sorry about that."
They arrive the burgundy marked hallway of the upper deck. This end of the ship is new territory for Bex and so are the several new faces she can't recognize. Having a shiny cadet's badge awards new access privileges.
"Well, looks like we've arrived. See ya around, Bex," Howard and the others wave goodbye and disappear into a tightly packed Impulse Deck. The cadet retraces her steps, taking her time to learn the new areas of the ship now available for exploration. She pulls out her PADD and looks up the deck map of the Discovery and takes notice of a room nearby called the Stellar Cartography Lab.
The small, completely white room on the outermost ring of the saucer holds the ship's database for all known chartered planets and star systems. All the Science Officers in this room have been reassigned, so Bex checks out the central hub unattended. The roundtable prompts her for coordinates. She names the few planets and nebulas she can remember off the top of her head and a large, detailed hologram projects the information. The map shows not only the topographic and resource information but population densities, weather patterns, as well as images of from previous decades.
"Show Earth."
"Earth, Sol III of the Sol System. Capitol Planet of the Federation of Planets. Population, approximately 4.2 billion humans."
Bex watches in admiration as the projection of Earth spins in front of her. The lights of a million cities can be seen dotting along its surface and oceans. Some areas of the planet that were formally dark to her, such as North Korea and Central Africa, are now brightly lit with life. Massive satellites and space station's orbit around her home as small fireworks from ships launch and land on and off the planet.
"Can you show me Earth in the year 2017?"
The hologram flickers a moment as the computer loads the simulation.
"Unable to load complete projection. Not enough cartography data found for the year 2017," the computer apologizes and projects a very plan, incompletely lit planet.
Bex's heart sinks, "Why is it incomplete?"
"The earliest completed data for Earth only go back as far as 2057. Prior to this year, most information about this planet's known development, resources and topography was either lost or altered during the Third World War of 2026 to 2053."
"Altered? By who?"
"The Third World Won of Earth was a devastating genocidal conflict over the right to genetically modify the human genome. The conflict ultimately led to nuclear fallout and many of the planet's top governments were destroyed along with the lives of over 600 million people. The recovery of this planet's civilization continued well into the 22nd century and much of its written history has been lost. Any information you can provide about this planet's development prior to the year 2057 should be submitted for verification to the Earth History Restoration Initiative."
Bex turns off the projection and rubs her face in slight shock.
I've missed out on quite a lot... She decides to begin her Starfleet training in Late 21st Earth History.
The Cadet cruises the other decks of the ship and uncovers that the Discovery has the latest version of a holographic phaser arena, but oddly, no jogging track. A familiar sweaty feeling graces her body, so she takes a break in the ship's main and better furnished cafeteria. Rectangular white picnic tables stretch out in the middle of the dining hall and blue leather couches make up the lounge area. Having been over 42 hours since her last non-Klingon based meal, Bex feeds her prescription code to one of the replicators and it conjures up some kind of purple porridge.
"One Sick Day Rice and Andorian Vegetable Soup. This meal is full of vitamin A, vitamin B2, vitamin B6, vitamin B12, vitamin C-"
"And X, Y, Z. Thank you," Bex snatches her oddly colored soup and sits at the tall half tables flushed against the hull windows. She tries the soup and cannot identify any of the produce included.
"I guess salt is not allowed on this diet," and takes out her PADD to begin reading about World War III.
Upon her re-arrival to Earth almost a year ago, she had the inkling to read up on the two centuries she skipped over, but thought better of it. Better to remain spoiler free if she were to ever return to the year 2017. As she sits in the cafeteria, attempting to drink her saltless soup, she speculates about her family and their involvement in World War III. Did they fight and if so what side were they on? Did they survive? Does she have any descendants in the year 2256?
"Stop," she warns herself before she those emotionally dangerous thoughts get stuck in her head. She allows her purple soup to cool in the dim light of the milky way as an old conversation comes to mind.
"Do you ever think about your family?" Charlie asks Bex as they sit bored on the Marqui and warp across the Vulcan sector, "Like, do you have any out here?" he inquires about his First Officer's past anytime they're caught in the middle of long stretches of nothing. Bigger ships have hologram theaters, gyms and libraries. The Marquida rely on small talk.
"I try not to think about it," Bex answers bluntly while she sits leisurely and fiddles with her HUD mask.
"Why?"
"Charlie!" Roh cuts in, "Leave her alone."
The cowboy complains regularly how unfair Roh can be with her telepathy and how a Captain should be privy to his crew's backstories. Having a telepathic team member who can't reliably control her powers does often cause issues with keeping secrets. Roh may know about Bex's past more than anyone, but she remains reverent and keeps her lips shut. It can cause jealousy with the rest of the crew.
"It's an innocent question," the Marquida Captain defends himself, "I'd go out lookin' for my progeny."
"Some people aren't as curious as you," Roh sympathises.
"I guess," Charlie leans back in his chair in a humph, "I just think it'd eat away at me knowin' I might have someone out there."
"Request to speak freely, Captain," Bex asks.
"Request granted."
"Shut up."
The three laugh and return watching the glowing streaks of the stars glide past the ship.
Bex returns to her now cold bowl of soup and misses both its warmth and the warmth of her companions. One companion seems to have gone missing recently. Odd since he routinely checks up on her at least six times a day despite her protests. She pulls out her new communicator and instructs it to contact Lieutenant Joseph Friday, but it buzzes for almost a minute without an answer. No choice, but to continue her tour of the ship.
The secondary hull, where the shipping, cargo and engineering bay located, remains primarily off limits to the Cadet. She sticks to searching the halls, but finds no sign of of Kuade or his toolbelt. After a few return passes down the corridors, her frustration peaks.
This is so unlike him! Why am I getting so mad? she gives up and returns to the lift.
DINK!
The doors of the turbolift open and two officers step out; one with tight posture and an assured gate, the other a little more aloof.
"Burnham," Bex greets the always composed ex-First Officer.
"Bex," Burnham nods her head and takes notice of the new uniform, "Congratulations on your new reinstatement into Starfleet."
"Oh.. uh, thank you."
"Cadet Samantha Bex, this is Cadet Sylvia Tilly my roommate," Burnham introduces the bubbly redhead to her side, "Tilly this is-"
"The 21st Century Human!" she squeals brightly, "That is so awesome!" she takes Bex's hand graciously, "I mean, what a century am I right? Not only is it mankind's most technologically progressive era, but also its most bloodiest. I bet you have so many stories-"
"Tilly," Burnham interrupts almost embarrassed by her roomie.
"Oh! Sorry," the redhead winces and her pale cheeks burn pink, "I tend to get carried away sometimes."
"No, it-it's fine," Bex gives a small smile, "That's... one of the warmest greeting I've ever received."
"Oh, thank you!" Tilly beams back.
"Are you looking for the Captain?" Burnham changes the subject. Her eyebrows look slightly pinched in concern.
"Oh no. Should I be?"
"He was looking for you."
"Haven't heard from him. I was actually just looking for Lieutenant Friday."
"Friday!?" both Tilly and Burnham respond in unison.
"Do you know Lieutenant Friday? What can you tell us about him?" Tilly asks genuinely interested.
"Uh, know him? I don't know him. I was just wanting him to fix the uh... buzzing coming from the oxygen vent in my dorm," Bex lies, "He said he would look into it."
"He should be down here somewhere," Tilly cranes her neck down the hall.
"Yes, Friday has formed quite a liking to the Engineering Bay," Burnham says as if she has just bit into something sour, "We have had to bar his access to many of areas down here."
"But if we see him, we'll let you know you were looking for him," Tilly offers sweetly.
"Thank you. I'd appreciate that," and the three depart their separate ways. Burnham and Tilly head deeper into the secondary hull and Bex returns to the saucer. Contacting the Captain may be the newly reinstated Cadet's best option, but crewmen still tear down the halls like headless chickens and Lorca keeps barking orders over the loudspeakers. She'll wait. For now, she continues her studies in the lounge area near the main bridge.
EARTH WORLD WAR III, IMPORTANT FIGURES 1.23
Colonel Philip Green, whose motto was "Overwhelm and Devastate", called for the euthanasia of millions of humans affected with radiation poisoning from World War III. This was to prevent their damaged genes from being passed onto future generations. Colonel Green was also notorious for striking his enemies during peace treaty negotiations and was the leader of an eco-terrorist faction that ultimately led to the death of some 37 million people.
Bex reads Earth history from the year 2055 to 2065 for several hours until she checks the clock at about 1:00am San Francisco Time. She rubs her tired, blurry eyes and decides on dinner. The replicator delivers her next prescription meal; some kind of brownish-green juice made with produce from another alien planet.
She takes a seat towards the back end of the cafeteria, tries her juice, and gags at its sickeningly sweet flavor. A few crewmen join her in the mess hall, their backs aching from a long day bent over their consoles. She can hear them talk bad about the Captain and how some other so-and-so Captain is better, but she finds their gossip not particularly interesting.
Returning back to her PADD, Bex sips on her vegetable sugar drink and skims some of the other icons on her device. The lights of the cafeteria dim and crewmen voices speak up.
"...Captain."
"Sir.."
"At ease."
THAACK!
Bex quickly looks up and meets the piercing blue stare of Lorca.
"Captain," she says weakly and sits up uncomfortably in her chair.
He doesn't reply, but digs his spoon into some kind of pastry. A pair of officers glance at their table and when Bex looks to meet their faces, they turn away and pretend to not be interested. The Captain takes in a big mouthful of dessert and then creases his eyes at his cadet. Based on his posture and his angrily tapping heel, she deduces that he's upset with her.
He swallows, "tlhIngan jIH" he quotes coolly and a lead ball forms in Bex's stomach, "tlhIngan jIH," he continues, "'I am Klingon,'" he takes another bite, "Is that right?"
"I can explain."
"Please do. I'd prefer a confession before I throw you back in the brig."
The cafeteria goes quiet and Bex feels about ten pairs of eyes turn towards her. She attempts to maintain composure, "I'm pretty sure I've already told you this story."
"I'm pretty sure you didn't," he says coarsely as he licks his teeth.
Bex looks around the room the now very interested room. It comes with the territory of being not only a time traveler, but a Klingon refugee; everyone wants to hear a good story. She's avoided sharing her past with almost everyone who's probed her for information, but her place on Discovery and the security of the Marqui are now at risk. Most people wouldn't hesitate to boast about their old war stories, but Bex isn't one for gloating. The damned scars still ache to this day and of course Lorca chooses to interrogate her in front of witnesses. At least she can be thankful that the cafeteria isn't busier.
The Captain leans back in his chair, arms crossed impatiently waiting.
Bex takes a deep breath and her face begins to redden, "About two months after my arrival on Donatu V, there was a second shipment of humans, bringing our total number to 125. Only, the vessel they arrived in was neither human nor Klingon."
Lorca's eyebrows raise a little.
"We had always thought it was the Klingons who abducted us, but there was a third species orchestrating our imprisonment. Don't know who, but the Klingons were afraid. A group of them came to us some time later claiming that they couldn't leave. There was a... a barrier of some kind that their ships couldn't penetrate. They were stuck on that planet, just like us. So, instead of just continuing to kill each other, we formed an alliance."
The Captain leans forward on his elbows and weaves his fingers together.
"Of course, it wasn't just that easy. We had to prove to the Klingons that we were worthy of such an partnership. They put us through various... trials," Bex's eyes drift a little, "Pain ascension... rite of passage... We all had to go through it. Those of us who survived were given House names as proof of merit. Thus, although I am not related by blood, I am Klingon by legal right."
The Captain clicks his tongue and finishes the story for her, "And with this Klingon name, you were able to secure your alliance, learn their language, their technology, their weapons and eventually escape."
"In so many words, yes."
He leans back a little and ponders, "What's the name of your House?"
"Hmm? Poq. Nothing impressive. It's a made up House name. Though, if you ever want to try Qo'nos Bitter Melon, let me know. I own 200 fields of it back on Donatu V."
He frowns unamused, "Do all Klingons acknowledge your title?"
"No. The ones on that rogue vessel never mentioned it, but they still knew who I was."
The Captain raises an eyebrow.
"During my torture session, I was... treated to dinner."
"Were you?" Lorca feigns surprise.
"As I explained before," Bex continues, "Most Klingon fruit is toxic to humans. That's one of the first things we learned on Donatu. The Klingons brought seeds from Qo'nos, so we couldn't eat anything that grew on that planet, save for one thing. Never learned the actual name of it. We just called it a Durian-nut. Putrid, awful smelling thing, but nutritious. L'rell, that Klingon woman in the white armor, she knew about the Durian-nut and used it to test me. She uh... had her doubts."
Lorca thinks, "Hm... Never heard of a Klingon using poison before. Seems beneath such a confrontational race. Did you use any of their utensils?"
"Yes, but just to cut open the fruit. It has a very thick and fibrous skin. I should have only ingested trace amounts of arsenic."
"Culber said you had a lethal dose."
"I guess, I was wrong! I failed the test."
"Or you're lying to me."
"What? Y-you think I poisoned myself intentionally?" Bex questions a little exasperated.
He shrugs, "Story doesn't add up. I knew your allegiance to the Marquida was going to be a problem. Never thought I'd have to worry about Klingons."
Bex swallows a little as the ten pairs of eyes around the cafeteria laser in on her. She leans in close to Lorca and implores him in a low voice, "Captain. You once said trust between us had to be earned, but you can't extend the olive branch of peace and let go of the other end."
"Well said," he leans forward to meet her eyes, "But my gut instinct and 30 years as a soldier tell me otherwise," he looks up passed Bex's face and signals.
A large hand slaps against Bex's shoulder, "Samantha Bex," a very deep and gravelly voice commands, "Come with us," two soldiers in the black uniforms and black badges pull their new prisoner up to her feet and force her from the cafeteria.
Bex rolls her eyes, "Captain. Is this really necessary?"
Lorca calmly returns to his pastry avoiding eye contact, but the rest of the crewmen spare no shame in gawking at the show.
"Captain!"
Back in the brig, Bex sits on the floor with her back against the wall. She can feel her stomach begin to rumble again. She already asked the guard for some water, but the small 4oz. cup he provided will not keep her intestines at bay. As the hours pass and the ship vibrates at low warp, Bex attempts to sleep.
"There you are! What are you doing back down here?" she has a visitor.
"Kuade? Where the hell have you been?" she squints.
He sighs, "In mourning. It's been an emotionally grueling day for me. You wouldn't understand the pain I'm in..." he declares unironically while leaning lazily against the force field wall, "So, how's the mission going?"
"How do you think it's going?" Bex gestures to her cell.
"Well, obviously you gave the Captain some bad intel. Although, he's been in a particularly foul mood lately, whipping the whole crew blue," he seems almost bored.
"You don't seem concerned."
"Hm? Concerned about what?" Kuade strolls apathetically around the bridge, "Oh, right. You've been arrested again. Ugh!" he rolls his head sardonically, "Well, you probably deserved it. What'cha do this time? Insult the Captain's hairline? Punch him in the nose?"
"I was poisoned," Bex bites with malice.
"Really! Ha! This whole crew is dropping like flies. First Commander Landry, now you," he laughs.
"Wait. What happened to Landry?"
"The Tardigrade killed her!" he shouts as if it's old news.
"The... waterbear?"
"Yes. A big one. Gah! You've missed so much down in steerage. Somehow, somewhere Landry got a Boomer aboard the ship and pushed him too far. He retaliated. He had to. I tried to stop it."
Bex remembers the Captain's private laboratory and how a great big something trashed everything. It was clear that some other animal was in the room with her.
"Poor thing. Didn't deserve that," Kuade sympathises.
"Yeah. Landry was harsh, but she didn't-"
"I'm not talking about Landry," he speaks with a hint of cruelty in his voice that Bex has never heard before, "As far as I'm concerned, the whole team deserved the same fate... except for maybe Burnham. She's the only one who seems to have her head on straight," his focus drifts away, lost in some nostalgia forgotten so long ago, "What magnificent encounters we have aboard this ship. A treasure trove of unlimited universal access...," he floats around the brig lost in his thoughts and memories of some old acquaintance.
Bex stands to her feet, "Kuade, something's wrong. Ever since we came aboard this ship, you've seemed... different. Distracted. I think you've been compromised and now our mission is now at risk. Kuade...? Kuade!"
He ignores her and just continues to pace and mutter to himself about prototaxites stella viatoris and the multiverse skeleton key.
I've lost him, she fears, Heh. I've lost control of this whole damned situation. I'm First Officer of the Marqui. Command falls to me when the Captain is away, and here I stand in prison while my Engineer loses his mind.
Bex has never seen Kuade so erratic, so mostly harmful. He's never shown such disinterest in her, despite his previous claims of concern over her possible incarceration. Now he meanders around her cell as if he can't even see it. That bothers the time traveler more than anything. Her enigmatic warden should be wrapped tightly around her little finger, but now he's found a way to unwind himself.
"I'm jealous..." Bex whispers in defeat.
"Hm? Jealous?" this catches his interest.
"I'm going to have to bring this up at your end of the year review..."
"Bring what up?"
"I'm not your first priority anymore. How irresponsible of you, Detective," she pouts her lips slightly. If she can't get Kuade to acknowledge the unexplained changes in his behavior willingly, she will have to rely on a Lorca Maneuver.
"What do you mean? Of course you're my first priority," he rolls his eyes, "I've been busy these past few days."
"So busy, you couldn't even visit me in Sickbay?"
"Sickbay!?" he sneers.
Bex point so her neck, "Check the hypospray welts."
"...Oh lord, you're serious," Kuade expression drops and he steps up to the cell, "Why were you in sickbay?"
"I was captured by Klingons. Tortured by them!"
"Whu-uh.. But, when?" he tries to put two and two together.
"When the Captain and I returned from the Enterprise."
His mouth falls open and he shakes his head, "Uh... b-but, I was told that only the Captain was taken."
"It's been over two days since we last spoke. Did you even know notice I was missing?" Kuade seems thrown off by that measurement, "That's already a punishable offence considering the sensitivity of our mission, but you make a lousy friend."
"I.. uh... busy, I-" he steps in place several times and presses his hands against the netted force field. The officer standing guard stiffens at Kuade's inability to keep his hands off the cell, "I found something...," the detective answers in a hushed voice.
Bex walks over and presses her hands against her side the wall so they line up with his, "A something that's worth jeopardizing our whole mission?"
"Yes! It could benefit us both greatly."
"What is it?"
"I can't explain it... not easily, but I can show you," he checks over his shoulder for the guard who grows irritable, "Listen. Lorca is going to want to speak with you again, right? Before he kicks you off the ship? Whatever you did to piss him off, apologize. It is imperative that you stay on the Discovery, by any means necessary. When he releases you, I'll show you what I've been working on-" the guard at the doorway shifts and clears his throat. Kuade turns back to Bex, his hands still pressed against the cell wall. He taps his right index and middle finger twice, followed by his pinky.
TIME 0100 HOURS.
Then all five fingers of his left hand tap, followed by his right thumb.
DECK 5
And then he briskly leaves without another word.
"Enter," Bex returns to the Captain's ready room the next morning, but of course, in space, it always looks like night. Lorca leans on his 'V' shaped standing desk while a Tribble gentle purrs asleep next to a bowl of fortune cookies. The Captain glances over to the door and grins at his visitor, "Mornin'! How'd you sleep?"
Bex steps up to the desk frowns as her answer. It was a rough night writhing on the floor with stomach pain. She catches up on sleep via extending blinking and fights the urge to yawn.
"Good news! I finished your investigation," he switches on his PADD and a schematic of the naH-taj projects out, "Burnham discovered that the... fruit knife you've identified was reinforced with a synthetic arsenic compound. As you already know, Klingon physiology requires high amounts of the element to properly function. Like sailors of old Earth who required vitamin C to combat scurvy during long voyages, the Klingons are supplementing their diet by using utensils made from arsenic. You only thought you were ingesting trace amounts. Lucky for you, our talented Doctor was able to synthesise an antibiotic and save you," he switches off the PADD, satisfied with his findings, "Story checks out, Bex."
She nods impressed, "Was the brig really necessary?"
He hides a smirk, "Probably not."
"So, I've just made that bad of an impression on you."
"I told you, you need discipline. I already have one science officer stepping on my toes and I can't risk my crew seeing a former Marquida do the same. You're not a vigilante anymore. You're Starfleet officer."
"An officer you're not using to her full potential."
"Believe me. I wish I could, but unlike Burnham and Tyler who actually like Starfleet, you hate being on this ship. You hate wearing that ensignia, but you wear it because the Admiral promised you clemency. I'm personally not too keen on her idea, but she thinks you're worth saving. My opinion; you're an enigma. I can't find any information on you that isn't classified or complete works of fiction."
"Take it up with Command. They're the ones trying to keep Donatu under the rug."
"Starfleet's not budging. Admiral Terral briefed me on what little the Vulcans know, but whatever happened on the planet has everyone spooked. I'm in the dark as far as your background is concerned and I can't have any more liabilities on my ship."
He gives Bex her cue to start defending herself, "If you're worried about my old Klingon alliance, don't be. It came to an abrupt end when my Vice-General cracked me over the skull with the blunt end of his bat'leth."
The Captain suppresses a chill, "Alliances come and go, but loyalties are harder to break," he speaks carefully and steps up closer to his cadet, "Many POWs who have spent extended time in enemy custody often show compassion or bias towards their captors. It's nothing to be ashamed about. War is ugly and causes soldiers to cope in many irrational ways," he shows concern in his eyes, but Bex finds it offensive.
"Are you accusing me of being a Klingon sympathiser, because trust me, I'm not."
"Perhaps if you could show and not tell me that you can be trusted, it would remedy some of my uneasiness."
A strange thought pops into woman's mind at his request. She unzips her uniform top and pulls up her undershirt just short of her breasts.
Lorca immediately gets the wrong idea, "Uh-Cadet, I did not mean that... Keep your-" then he goes pale. Across the young woman's stomach marks a massive 12 inch scar, crudely stitched together by hand, creating unattractive folds of skin.
Bex blushes, "Second day on Donatu, I took the sharp end of a bat'leth. Luckily, an old World War II trench doctor sewed me up and saved my life. Captain, there is no one on this ship, no one in this system that deservedly hates Klingons more than I do. If you honestly believe that I could still hold loyalties with them, then you must also think me crazy."
"Th-that's enough. Put your shirt back on..." the Captain looks away, bashfully rubbing his mouth and chin. He digs into his small bowl of fortune cookies and returns to the other side of the desk, "You are a puzzle, Bex. I can't say I know what you've been through, and I sure as hell can't tell where you're headed, but I need to know what motivates you. Revenge? Redemption? Freedom? What is your endgame?"
She pulls down her shirt and thinks a moment, "...To go home."
"You mean... back to your time?"
"Yes."
"Is that even possible?"
"Everything I have done since my arrival to this year is hinged upon the hope that there is a way back."
A light curl appears on his lips, "Yet, you once waxed beautifully before in this ready room about how you wanted to explore this world."
"Aye, Captain. I am conflicted."
Lorca looks intently at his battered cadet, looking for signs of deceit and when he finds none, his expression softens, "...You've spent too long fighting for the wrong side, Bex. First with the Klingons, then with the Marquida. I can only pray that the next side you choose is the right one... Thank you for being honest with me," he tosses her the fortune cookie. Not only a nonconformist, but the most on-the-nose captain in Starfleet, "You're free to go."
The cadet pockets the cookie and leaves the ready room quietly. Her cheeks feel warm when she wipes sweat off her face, but it's not residual arsenic poisoning that has her worked up. The past few days has exposed much of the refugee's secrets.
UPDATE 1.3.17: Added in a couple lines about Kuade's injury.
Later that night, after another difficult day on the crew, Bex heads down to the Engineering Deck while the rest of the ship catches up on sleep. When she steps off the turbo-lift, Kuade greets her with a smug smile.
"Cadet. Good to see you've finally invested into your future."
"Don't get smart with me. This is just Plan B in case you try to blow me and this mission off again."
"Blow you off? On the contrary. I only mean to secure us a bigger reward," he motions her to follow, "I have disabled the security feed. We have 20 minutes."
The two arrive at a double sliding door with a sign reading Engineering Test Bay - Alpha. Kuade pulls out a lifted science officer's badge and the doors unwittingly open. The thief runs down the steps to the secured Cultivation Bay door and pulls out a set of pliers to start work on the exposed panel.
"You've become quite the crook," Bex points out while taking in the room around her. Deep scratch marks line he large glass chamber in the middle of the room, giving her a sense of deja vu.
The secondary doors slide open, "I am a capable man," Kuade winks and the two inter the sanitation room before entering main cultivation bay. The the french doors slide open and an avalanche of blue spores cave in. Bex instinctively covers her nose and mouth while Kuade strides forward unalarmed.
"They're perfectly safe," he assures her and pulls out a tricorder.
Thousands of multicolored fungus and coral-like plants line the floor of a room that rivals the size of the cargo bay. Blue spores float from one plant to the next like lofty bees, while a slight breeze pumps in from the vents. Who knew this ship was carrying such a peculiar cargo? Bex steps up next to Kuade and touches one of the branches of a particularly pink looking fungus.
"Ah-uh!" he snatches her hands rather roughly and then slip her fingers into his mouth to lick off the squashed spores. His warm tongue glides over the tips of her fingers and his eyes flicker up. For a moment, Bex suddenly feels heavy and Kuade's dark brown eyes look about 1ten miles deep. He gently pulls her fingers from his lips, making a loud 'smack', drops her hand and returns to his tricorder as if nothing happened.
Bex breathes slowly and wipes the now cold saliva off on her pants. She tries to shake off the bizarre interaction as just part of his new erratic behavior and nothing more.
"Ahem... So, this is the stuff that's been making the ship jump."
Kuade scoffs and continues his calculations, "That's a layman's explanation, but yes... Although, the Captain's inelegant use of such a marvelous force of nature is also quite underdeveloped..." he tenses suddenly when he feels Bex's fingers slide up against his chest.
"Is that what happened to this?" she rubs where a shrapnel scar should be, "Did it just jump to a new location?" she teases, enjoying how easily his cheeks burn. Kuade may be going through a mood swing or two, but he's still just as sexually inert as ever.
"Uh-er.." he pushes her hand away and pouts,"'Jumping' is just a spark compared to the power these spores are truly capable of producing," he changes the subject without answer her, "The mycelial network is a complex subspace matrix that spans infinitely across the universe and not just laterally. There are branches that reach every point in time, penetrating all the way through to the 10th dimension. These roots are the very veins our onion-verse," he shakes his head, "Unfortunately, this discovery is about two millennia too early and puts at risk the whole universe. Stamets is like a child trying to light a match, but does not realize he's been scraping against the actuator of a nuke," he jabs at his tricorder, "And he needs to stay away from daddy's things!"
Bex knits her eyebrows, "Is that why you wanted on the ship? You needed to get to this?" she squats down to get a better look at fungi while tiny blue spores swirl around in her breath.
"It's one of a many reasons why we're here," Kuade gazes down at Bex thoughtfully, "This ship is on the convergence of several temporal and spatial anomalies that must be corrected," he gestures to her and the garden, "You two including."
"...can these spores get me home?"
Kuade looks down with twang of guilt in his eyes, "Yes... possibly, with modifications. That's why it was so imperative for you to stay on this ship with me... Even after the Marquis is gone," she whips her head up him in dismay and he calmly looks back with commiseration, "It will take me time."
Bex turns back to the spores and thinks a moment, "It wasn't always imperative for me to be here," she stands abruptly, "You were once more than happy to abandon me back on Earth."
Kuade huffs and puts down his tricorder, "A miscalculation on my part, I admit. I thought that's what you wanted," he sighs thoughtfully, "But then you dropped out of college, joined gang and I was forced to reevaluate your... potential. You grew on me, Sam! I haven't had this much fun in a long long time," he turns and frowns, turns back and opens his mouth to say something, frowns again, winces, shrugs, breaths a couple of times and after a few seconds of struggle, "...I ...l-like you," then with more feeling, "I like you, Samantha Bex!"
She smiles in amusement, "Is that a confession?"
"Yes? But it's purely platonic! Romantic relations between an investigator and his clientele is highly unethical," shivers run down his spine, "No offense."
"None taken."
"Although, everything else we've done up to this point is highly unethical... Hm."
He returns to hs work and Bex grins a while, until a nagging question conjures in the back of her brain, "Is that the only reason you changed your mind about me?"
Kuade darts his eyes, "Is friendship not a good enough?" he asks worryingly.
"No it's fine," she says with a hint of knowing in her voice, "I was just hoping there was more to your confession."
Kuade gives ward a quizzical look before returning to his notes. She continues to watch the fog of spores float around the garden. Although she cannot understand their impressiveness on mathematical terms, she can feel their 'spark' of power as they brush against her cheeks.
"Look," Kuade presses a code into his tricorder and the spores around him begin to respond. They follow his device and form a long funnel, spinning toward whatever frequency the device plays.
Bex giggles, "You're like a spore bender."
"Hn...? Oh! Yes. I get that reference," he shrugs, "No. More like a reality bender."
She tilts her head in surprise at this comment and the weariness of her partner in crime returns.
The pair continue to watch the fungus sparkle a little while longer. Despite her new reservations about Kuade, Bex just can't stop smiling. The fungus is beautiful of course, but they are not to blame for the time traveler's sudden good mood. While she looks out on the waves of blue dust, an antsiness that she hasn't felt since meeting her first Vulcan returns to her heart. Hope.