A/N: Things are going to get a tad sensual, but it won't get out of hand.
ANV Tempest
En-route to planet Eos
Pytheas System
Helius Cluster
Andromeda Galaxy
..Was it true ?
...Was. It. True ?
...Was it..?
Like the staccato repetitions of an ancient telegraph system, that one key question phrase just repeated itself over and over, though Cora's mind..
Obviously, it wasn't ceaseless. Or all-day...but it did keep coming and going.
After that conversation ( which had technically been more of an impromptu head-doctor session than anything else, all things considered ) with Lexi at the MedBay yesterday, it seemed that everything they'd discussed, and most of all, what the Doc had so confidently and earnestly expressed a sense of confirmation toward...
Just...had taken on a mind of its own ! It just kept going, and going, and going ! At any moment, and at any given point where she wasn't preoccupied with a task...
That phrase, and all the emotions and branching questions that came with just burst onto her consciousness. Or at least... it was a 3 out of 5.
Which was still plenty, needless to say. Sitting down to eat- bam, there it was. Laying down for a night's sleep cycle- probably would get a visit from those thoughts again. Going for the daily exercise run around the ship's decks ? Yep, there they were again. Unless she was doing something that was a lot more encompassing, like weapon stripping, or active combat sparring , the daily morning brief , or repeating the Mantras of the Daughters...those thoughts were highly likely to pay a visit.
Like they were right now, for example.
Specifically, under the roaring torrent of the ship's shower.
The women's shower, that is. Having been born and lived most of her life ( prior to joining the Alliance Marines, and subsequently after them, the Daughters ) on a rather cramped cargo freighter, Cora had long become used and adjusted to having to see others nude- when they needed to, that is. Showering definitely fell under that umbrella, but the Andromeda Government was a tad more...mainstream when it came to such things, and had thus designed their vessels otherwise. The Tempest wasn't any different, and was thus fully equipped with separate showering chambers ( or, as the SAMC would call them, " Rain Rooms " ) for its male and female members.
Hardly an issue. Sometimes, it was good to just chat with members of the same ( one of two ) genders that was the same as you.
That...and quite frankly...seeing Scott without anything on at all didn't seem like the kind of thing Cora was ready for just yet.
And, speaking of Scott...
What...what could I have missed between him and me ?, those aforementioned runaway thoughts questioned, seemingly having known Cora would find herself dwelling on that man sooner or later if she got the chance, and had steered her toward them yet again.
Which they had, un-shockingly. A shower was way too good of an opportunity to ignore for them to pay her a visit.
Which they had, yet again.
What...is even going on here...between him and me ?, they practically demanded , as her hands rubbed and spread shower gel ( her personal favorite of all the brands that the Andromeda Expedition had brought with them from the Milky Way, and then gained the means to manufacture ) around the girth of her hips , then down the barrels of her thighs.
There was just enough left after all that to clean off her ass as well...which Pelesarrisa had cheekily claimed should have its own gravitational pull. It was a certifiably moronic statement via just the wording...but...she wasn't enitirely wrong...
Anyway-that was beside the point.
Colleagues ? Subordinate and Commander ?! We're beyond that...
I know that much, at least. Pretty sure, anyway..
Thanks, Lexi.
Unfortunately, though...that was about where her current understanding of things where her and Scott's " relationship " ( which, technically didn't even exist yet ) ended. As yet more steam-billowing water cascaded over her, and then off her carrying with it the now-used layers of gel to vanish down the drain.
It...it was just a launch pad, more than anything else. Sure, it was great to know that she had some kind of " positive un-professional " ( to borrow a oft-used SAMC phrase ) bond of some kind with the Pathfinder that was bringing her a sense of...completeness, you could say, rather than agonizing and pondering if that was the case at all...but on the other hand, it still left a lot unsaid and unconfirmed.
Which was bad thing, on several levels, the Asari-Trained Commando acknowledged, as she reached out and applied more gel onto her palms from the wall-mounted dispenser. The pebbly liquid oozed out, coating her hands front and back, which she then proceeded to slather down the length her toned stomach, before finally finishing around her fully-shaved-to-smoothness nether-regions.
All the while, the ruminations continued..
And, there was a lot of them as well. As she scrubbed her crotch down, more of the parade of Scott-related thoughts ( Scott-Thoughts, you might call them ), began to do yet another circuit around her head. Chief among them, perhaps...was maybe the most troubling one of all:
Uncharted territory..
And more than one kind , which is worse..
Complicated, that is...which is the epitome of worse.
...I mean...this is a first for me: Actually having to put to practice the " Don't blend romance and the chain of command " rule..
For once...ever...
Clouds of steam swirled and billowed around her, as those thoughts swirled and billowed through her mind. They had a point, though: She was actually having to finally ( after 600 years, technically ) confront the reality that, well..." having the hots " ( to borrow a phrase from every 1990's Romantic movie ever...if the archives were correct ) for someone that was ranked above her just needlessly complicated things. It carved your focus half and half...at best, and 70-30 at worst. Either one was enough of a problem if you were somewhere " behind the wire ", such as standing while surrounding the briefing hologram display table ( HDT ) on the bridge with the Strike Teams prior to a mission, or actually even boarding the Kodiak shuttles to kick it off.
...Which, was a whole 'nother ball game to actually being on the ground during an Op. You had to think of everyone around you as your fellow Marines, and/or as your superior ( which, for her, was Scott , obviously )...and only that.
Only that. Anything else, was a fatal distraction.
...Or, so she'd always been taught.
Few things are more fatal to unit cohesion than that...
Learned the same lesson from both the SAMC, and the Daughters. The unassailable truth..
You lose your focus, you let your mind wander...
And the unit becomes meat on the table. Or at least you do.
A slightly frustrated sigh slipped from her creased mouth, as she lathered down her ample breasts, then doused them clear.
This was just ridiculous, and extremely important...all at once, and she still felt like a white-belt when it came to navigating it all ! The only way it could actually be worse would be if she didn't even have a hint of a label to put to it all.
Which she did, but the rest of it was still one giant Rubix Cube:
Cora had freaking feelings, for her superior.
And she was gonna have to deal with it...one way or the other.
Grinding her teeth against her lower lip, Cora reached over, and shut off the water flow.
With a smattering of tapp, tapp, tapp sounds, the droplets stopped.
Still with the steam filling and drifting all over the place, obscuring viewing distance everywhere, Cora turned, and made her way through it, keying the door controls that led out of the cubicle. The Tempest, while certainly anything but a battleship, still had just enough space on board to accommodate separate showers ( and changing areas ) for male and female personnel, though...both were modestly sized to put it accurately. You would have to get used to seeing members of the same gender ( 2 ) nude around those places, and that was just an immovable fact of shipboard life.
Thankfully, though, Cora had been there before. Before leaving the Milky Way, she'd been born on a freighter/ habitat ship, and had lived on it for most of her life prior to joining the Alliance. With such tight quarters for showers as the daily norm over there ( just as it was here ) , it'd become par for the course that the females there had seen each other exposed, sooner or later ( emphasis on each other only, though. They'd still had some standards...)
Stepping though the archway, Cora crossed the space beyond to the narrow bench opposite where her clothes and towel bag sat. Soon, after a lot of padding, rubbing, and patting, she'd thoroughly sponged away the water from every last gap and corner of her body, before then rummaging though and pulling out, then pulling on, her change of fresh garments-panties, compression shorts, standard thermally adjusting, t-shirt, and deck sandals. Barely a minute or so later, she was fully dressed once again, save for a speckling of stubborn droplets clinging to the ends of her caramel-colored hair fringe. Cora ignored them ( as most do following a shower ), and just packed the used clothes/towel away before leaving the female showers altogether.
...Left the showers, yes...but...she couldn't whatsoever leave the thoughts that'd come with her on the way. Or that'd hovered around while she was using it...
...Scott and I...
Scott. And I...
...Lot to unpack with that.
On, and on they went, as the biotic headed down the deserted corridor. It was " late " right now, which was why it was so empty...which was helpful. On that freighter of her childhood, there'd been a lot of noise from having so many folks living so close all day and night- and then serving with the SAMC had been pretty much more of the same, just with more swearing. Only the Daughters had been close to a " serene " existence...though, that was mostly because of their centuries worth of Commando meditation experience.
The Tempest didn't quite fall fully under any of those categories, but...maybe it could be said to have bits from each-the racket put out by Pelesarria and her maniacal obsession with Remnant tech, the constant fussing of Lexi over every minor scrap and ailment, and the flanged lecturing tones of Vitra on anything tactical.
That was close enough...more or less. And, at least it did have places, or section out of every " day " , where you could walk around outside your quarters ( provided you had one, that is ), and just be alone with your thoughts. For some, anyway, walking and thinking beat lying still about it.
Aside from the ever-detectable Vbrmmm, vbrmmm, vbrmmmm, vbrmmm, vbrmmmm, vbrmmmm of the ship's drive core, that was. But, that was actually helpful as well- white noise, and all that. Relaxing, even.
Also surprisingly conducive to...well...just dwelling on things.
Annoyingly, though, given how much of it Cora had to navigate...it would take a while.
It would absolutely take a while, she accepted, as she finally reached her door. As the Tempest's XO, she had the privilege of her own living area- which was just across from Scott's ! That proximity was...just asking to become a problem going forward. Quarters of her own ( as opposed to bunking with a dozen other Marines/ Asari Commandos ) was one thing to get used to, but living across the corridor from the same man she was...basically falling for was a whole' nother ball game.
...Still at bat, though, The biotic reminded herself, as she keyed the door and entered.
And its a game worth playing.
...Even if I don't know what the score is.
She nearly yeeted her bag onto the nightstand beside the bed...but then proceeded to just set it down. Even here, with the privacy of her own quarters, her dual-discipline kept activating itself.
Shrugging, she re-locked the door, before switching off the lights, and slipping beneath the covers. That was another good thing...discipline. Like the rest of her, it also had a mind of its own, and it knew when it was needed. It knew that, when need be, you had to step back from the thoughts that consumed you, and pace yourself. Let them come to you, as opposed to the opposite...
Rolling onto her right side, Cora could feel a welcome sense of relaxation beginning to envelop her, like a cool breeze ( or, maybe that was the climate controls, which she'd long ago set to always stay the same as the Florida Keys ). Along with it, came the sudden urge to recite some of the chants and mantras of the Commandos..
How fitting...
A smile- just a tug, really, but that was enough- pulled at her mouth.
Yes...it was, wasn't it. Here she was, 600 years worth of FTL travel away from the Daughters, and from the whole Milky Way, lying on a bed aboard a stealth frigate, with her mind jammed with all sorts of muddling feelings of romance toward a man who's orders she was supposed to follow...but, regardless:
The Asari Commando way was reaching across the void, and offering a helping hand.
Cataloguing her emotions. Sorting them. Clarifying them.
A canopy of...well, calm, really, had fallen over her, just now. Yes, she did have feelings for Scott Ryder. Yes, she was deeply attracted to him. Yes...
...she would be utterly lying to herself if she claimed she didn't want him...because she did.
It was an Oreo cookie of emotional strata: Her affection, her chemistry, and her want of him. As she lay there, staring at the ceiling overhead, with the dimmed lights down to just a collection shadows to fill the room, and the distant thrumming of the drive core all coming together to form perfect sleep conditions (For a ship's life, at least- as A Commando, she'd accept a muddy tree as a bed if it came to that )...there wasn't any room for doubt:
She did feel something for him. She did.
Then, though...that butted against the next layer: Complications.
Which were...either numerous or deeper than she might've thought- complications, for sure.
For one, though, the eternal conundrum of harboring a romantic desire toward someone who outranked you was still alive, and Scott definitely had more authority than her. Besides that, between them, they were both former ( well, technically they weren't former, because there wasn't any such thing as a former Marine ), SAMC / Asari Commandos, and both fighting forces had their own rules against having romantic relationships with your superiors...or even just purely sexual ones.
On one hand, Cora wasn't one of those sheilas who treated their bodies and any relationship with a man as something frivolous and sex-only, or the kind of military member who who ignored the chain of command when it was convenient...but then again, she wasn't just mad thirsting for Scott: stalking him around to gaze at him from behind, or maybe swiping one of his shirts from the ship's laundry room, etc. She had feelings for him, which was way stronger.
Plus...the Andromeda Federation wasn't the same as the SAMC. Tann and company had been mostly political tools ( as should be expected with politicians ), leaving the military mostly free to form its own code, traditions and structure. Said results had been, bizarre, reminiscent of the SAMC, but also different.
It did still ban the lower ranks from dating/marrying their superiors...but...this was a Pathfinder vessel. Pathfinders were more of a federal agency/ paramilitary/ military commando/...surveying organization then rank and file armed forces ( despite their combat training, military grade weaponry, etc...which was needed, obviously, given what they had to do on a regular basis ), so...
Still abiding by the rules of good conduct, then ?
Sure I am, Cora found herself confidently affirming. I've been shot at with him over and over- seen him get hit as well. I can resist the urge to avoid getting potentially fatally distracted for a second despite these...desires I have. I am a Commando, after all. We are masters of ourselves..
Masters...
The reassurance was real...but so was the weight of the whole and entire dilemma, as was what she felt for Scott.
All of that wasn't even accounting for the final and/or most important layer of this Rubik's Cube, either...:
She wanted to solve it, despite how maddeningly complex and heavy it all was. That itself was weird as heck, given how near she'd come to explosively and violently dying at the hands of the Scourge, or the lighting storm on their first visit to Eos. But...perhaps that wasn't as crazy as it might sound at first, given that it was an apples-to-oranges kind of thing.
Point was...it mattered, by itself, and uniquely. And, when things mattered, you did something about it.
I will. I got to..
By now, at last, the beckoning of sleep was getting harder and harder to ignore. All this heavy thinking had only strengthened it, and she couldn't deny the encroaching sense of just wanting to catch some Zzzzs...right now.
A yawn came out of nowhere, and she barely suppressed it. Exhaling, she spared a glance at her omni-tool's clock, and found the burnt orange numbers coming back as : 11:55pm...synced to the Nexus. Another aspect of space travel that was often unknown by those terrestrial-bound for most of their days...but one that the Tempest's whole ship's company was well used to getting hit by.
Like ( again ) right now...
De-powering the OT, Cora pulled her covers over herself, till her head was nearly buried all the way. The ship around her, putting out a racket of her thrumming core, but also a chamber of calm vibrations, continued its unwitting ( but much appreciated task ) of lulling her to dreamland.
...What kind of dreams ? She didn't know...but she did know this:
Tomorrow ( so to speak...as much as the day cycle could be referred to as such )...she'd take the first step of solving this cube.
Might portray myself as a total dork...but its worth it, the biotic acknowledged, as the last of the tension just drained from her, and right through the materiel of the smart mattress- a definite sign that she was about to doze off at any minute.
Going to speak face to face with him soon. Gotta be this week, at least...
Shouldn't wait any longer to get going on this, or its gonna get worse.
Heck...maybe even ..
..Tomorrow..
Another yawn began to surge...and it too was crushed.
Barely. Yeah...she needed some sleep, for sure.
But, first...she found the energy for one last round of deeply honed exercises- the last gifts of the Daughters.
Purpose lights all paths..
Purpose unites..
Purpose gives meaning to the meaningless..
Purpose is life's greatest goal..
Such thoughts flickered like fireflies through her consciousness..
Hope. Uncertainty. Optimism. Passion.
All with high levels, and sharply palpable. But...there was one more. It was probably the most precious one anyone could ever feel ( other than the satisfaction of victory, or the warmth of true love ), and it was one that she'd fought and struggled the hardest to cling to. It was her strongest link and connection back to the Daughters, short of the actual tangible ones, such as the personal arsenal of Asari weapons they'd gifted her as a going-away present ( A Disciple Shotgun, and an Acolyte pistol. Both customized for superior firepower to the brink of destruction, and both had been maintained to as close to their original standards as Cora had been able ).
It was... a sense of tranquility. At ease...
Calm. Granted, for someone perpetually ( or at least...close enough ) on the frontier of civilized space , calm was always a relative term, but one could actually achive it, if circumstances, and your surroundings, were right.
And, while there were many kinds of right...
As the blanket of sleep finally covered her a hundred percent..
...Cora liked to believe that this, was its purest form.
ANV Tempest
8 Hours later
Well...the day was kicking off about as normally as ever.
Near as Cora could tell, anyway.
Her OT alarm had sounded right on schedule, for one: breeepbreep, breeepbreeep ! Loud, piercing, and perfectly doing its job.
With years spent getting woken quickly from deep slumber to full awareness, though, Cora weathered the typically-appalling shock of such an experience relatively well...or so she choose to figure. She didn't hit the snooze button, at least...so that was something she could be proud of. There was still a yawn or so that couldn't be stopped, and the borderline-obligatory face rubbing, but regardless, she'd gotten on with things.
Said things being kicking the covers off and getting out of bed, then stretching out deadened limbs. As the stiffness wonderfully faded, she promptly then began a set of SAMC calisthenics- just enough to get the blood running again for the day. Chilled air circulated around her bare skin during the motions, dragging her further and further away from drowsiness.
The session's true purpose, that right there..
With it complete, she paused to lower her pulse, then deftly sat cross-legged against the bed, pressing her back against its hardness to meditate...arguably the most vital fixture of every morning she'd ever had. Regardless of how bad the previous day/night had been, every morning demanded a session like this- and Cora wouldn't deny herself it. It was a luxury, and an essential tie to her past.
Finally, though, she was done.
Next, she put some clothes on over her shorts and v-neck top, before exiting her quarters to the corridor beyond. As she sealed the door behind her, a quick glance at her OT showed that...yes, she was right on schedule for the morning brief.
Borderline to the minute, actually.
Nice..
Pleased with her adherence to such punctuality, Cora set off, headed fore. She was feeling pretty good right now, overall: well rested, and with a new sense of understanding on the big issues she had to contend with. Still a bit of longing for the soft/firmness of that bed, having just woken, but there'd be plenty of opportunities for sleeping later. For now, there were tasks to get completed, and a ship to run.
" SAM ! ", she spoke aloud, without slowing down. " Give me an estimate on our arrival to Eos, and status of the command crew.."
"..Good Morning, Lt. Harper ".
The Tempest's Simulated Adaptive Matrix ( SAM ), sounding as English ( for now...as Scott said he had serious plans to convert it to the admittedly more badass sounding Irish accent ) and prim as ever, replied to Cora as crisply and quickly as ever.
" All members of the Command staff are present on the HoloTable deck, except for Dr. T'Parro, who is still completing her morning assessment of the MedBay's stocks, m'am. "
...Come on, Doc..
Here I am, already out and about, and you're...counting MediGel vials ?!
Well, better we know we have enough now rather than later...but still !
Letting her subconscious have its say of ( understandable ) bemusement for the then and there, Cora simply answered out loud with, "..Roger that, SAM. That's all for now. "
" Understood. Logging you out, Ma'am. ", declared the Matrix.
With that, the link was terminated.
Shaking her head at Lexi's typical fastidious ( yet helpful ) nature, Cora continued on, striding through the maze of corridors. She went by more crewmembers, busily tending to their assignments, and even Vetra Lynx, dragging some kind of container toward her own quarters. What it contained was likely banned by Tann and Company...but then again...
What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Politicians rarely needed to know such things. It just complicated matters for everyone else.
Cora kept on, weaving through the ship. The Tempest was familiar ground , all around, for her, and after barely a few minutes, she'd arrived at the HTD.
" Lt. Harper, reporting as directed ! ", she announced herself, out of longstanding military habit.
As she did, she automatically scanned the members assembled. It was the usual bunch: Liam Kosta, the frizzy-haired, former member of HUSTL, Gil Brody, the Scotsman responsible for running the Drive Core, and-
bbpm..
- automatically, her pulse skipped a beat.
Why ? Because...
...Her gaze, just then, had panned over the man standing at the head of the circle:
Scott Ryder, himself.
It was just a moment- just long enough for a heartbeat to miss- but it ht like a truck. Icy adrenaline began to seep through her blood ( just seeping, but it was enough ),...and...good lord, was her face slightly heated now ?
Yeah, it was.
For crying out loud...was she...
...actually turned on ? Just at the sight of him ?!
' Uh oh '
Her reactions were undeniable, and definitely detectable to her, but, thankfully, the others didn't seem to have noticed. Especially Scott, which was a total Godsend.
Still, as Cora crossed the gap between the top of the stairs, and the Holotable, it'd caught her off guard. Mostly, at least-she'd been expecting some kind of reaction, sure, and even one like this, but still....!
..She actually had to confront it now. Head on, just like she'd planned.
Easy now...
Easy now..
" Right on schedule, Lt...", Scott addressed her-and while looking her way, as well.
Sure, through her off balance just a tad more, why don't you ?
Her mind's subconscious was going a mile a second now, and ignoring it absolutely wasn't an option. On the other hand,...at least she'd prepared for such a moment.
" If we're all here, let's get the ball rolling ", Scott declared. " Get some items to cross off before we're planetside again. "
With that, the Tac-Session was underway, and heads nodded accordingly-Cora among them.
She was there, mentally and psychically. , and she was keeping herself mostly focused on-
Bmbp...
And...there went her pulse again.
Cora bit her lip, feeling a moderate ( and also , huge ) rush of heat to her palms, leaving a chill behind pulsating though her whole body that resembled winter itself.
This...was gonna be a long day..
By more ways than one.