| Author | Message | ||
     Cdr. Sieven Drexler |
(later...) Sieven stepped into the CIC and glanced down at the holotables with tired eyes, hoping to see Tebrun enjoying a mug of tea and reading the morning reports. For a moment he thought he saw him, but only with the mind's eyes; though who was to say which eyes were more accurate? A moment of revelation produced only empty chairs for him to gaze at, and for this he was defeated. He stood in the doorway a moment, his torso unalert and limp, his legs sore. He'd spent hours searching for something: a sign, a clue, a hint at what had happened either to the admiral or to the so-called Nexus of Xanadu. Alicia spared a few moments when Sieven prodded, but revealed nothing new through her distracted analog. He had left her reluctantly, wanting to tear her open and find out the truth, but he knew it would provide nothing but an outlet for his anger and frustration. The need to destroy had been overwhelming when a brief walk through Alexandria produced even more failure. His investigation, and his hopes, felt as skewed as the singularities in the infinite chamber nearby. He recalled his desire to fall into the probability cluster, the substanceless disc back in the depths of No Man's Land, and wondered if there were answers there. "I have Kelaka," he had thought to himself before heading back to Coronado. "I should just go find out for myself." Something, however, urged him at the last moment to stay, and before he could argue, he had set the course back to Coronado and locked it. Now, standing in CIC, he felt deflated and worn. The tumult and chaos of the last three years had finally caught up with him. Conflicts boiled about in his mind between duty and friendship, including many ruminations about leaving his post, but the feelings to stay were just as powerful. The reasons for staying, though, felt external. He was meant to stay, he concluded at some point, though it tore him up to. Sensations whose origins he could not pinpoint sparked through neurons and guided his decisions in some manner. Though hard to describe, he likened the feelings to a weaker sampling of the pushing and tugging he felt in No Man's Land. "Commander?" Sieven blinked and turned around. "Ensign?" "Can I get by you, sir?" "Oh," Sieven mumbled. He was still standing in the doorway. "Sorry." He stepped aside. "With all due respect, sir, you look like you've seen a ghost." "Perhaps." Sieven mustered an informal, dismissive smile. "I'm fine, though." The ensign nodded and passed through into the CIC, leaving Sieven musing about the comment, though the smile had slipped away. Under his breath he added, "I've seen too many ghosts lately." With a pause, he turned and headed over to the turbolift, en route to Sickbay. BTC |