U.S.S. Charon
Turboshaft
“Aerial Diplomacy – Part Four”
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[…Continued From Part Three]
Slowly and deliberately, Sakarra started to swing the human like a pendulum, ignoring his baffled look as well as the increasing pain in her shoulder. When he reached the walls of the turboshaft, understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes and he pushed off with his feet to increase his momentum.
Well, this should suffice. There was a 83.7 % chance they might come out of this with only minor bumps and bruises after all.
Making one more effort that nearly dislocated her shoulder, Sakarra threw the ambassador upwards, and just as she had calculated, his own built up momentum sent him flying through the turbolift doors in an almost elegant arc. Unfortunately, she had failed to inform him he should let go just about at that point so she might climb up onto the deck herself. As it was, her only reasonable choice was to let go of the ladder and come flying right after the human.
Lamont felt as if he were stuck on some infernal amusement park ride that unnecessarily jostled and shook one around all in the name of ‘fun’. The only difference was that the rides at parks typically carried with them little chance of sudden and rapid death or severe injury. To those ends the rides seemed a preferable option had he been given the choice between them and a malfunctioning turbolift car. Flying through the air, Ian landed on the hard carpeted deck.
He impacted the deck plates with a muffled thud, and as if that wasn’t enough, a ballistic little Vulcan landed on top of him a mere 0.7 seconds later. Not that Sakarra objected to a landing that was decidedly softer than the one the ambassador had endured, even the firmest human muscles were preferable to deck plating. But somehow she had ended up with his arm around her yet again, her head resting against what she recognized as the cool smoothness of a human cheek, while one of her tight braids had finally come undone and black curls were spilling over his throat and chest.
“If you believe a colorful metaphor would be in order right now, I will not be offended, ambassador.”
“I believe ‘holy shit’ will suffice albeit somewhat delayed”, the ambassador replied.
A good thing Vulcans weren’t prone to sighing or she just might have at this point.
Sakarra tried to prop herself up on her arms but thought better of it when a sharp pain lanced through her shoulder. Most inconvenient.
She could feel Lamont’s rapid heartbeat and was not sure whether to attribute that circumstance to the stress or possibly an injury. Turning her face towards him however was out of the question in their current position, just as sliding downwards would have increased the awkwardness by a factor of 4.7. At least.
Well, that left one logical course of action. As carefully as she could, the young Vulcan nudged the arm that was still resting against her waist out of the way and let herself fall to the side, coming to a rest against the corridor’s wall. Still her face was only centimeters from his, but at least they were not breathing at each other’s neck’s any longer. Quite literally.
“Are you injured, Mr Lamont?”
“Not that I can tell”, Ian replied sucking in a few needed breaths to help calm him after the stressful near death scenario.
Lamont turned his head to face the Vulcan whose face was only a hair’s distance from his own. Despite the recent events she seemed impressively calm and collected. It was a trait Lamont often wished he had. Being able to control one’s emotional states with precision was a skill few humans could master. Looking into the depths of her eyes for a second time today, Lamont saw hardly a trace of the emotions which were slowly catching up with him after the harrowing experience. However, he could see something else that the Vulcan was almost able to completely cloak. Almost.
“Lieutenant”, Lamont suddenly said with concern pushing himself upwards. “Are you hurt?” He was now painfully conscious of her miraculous reflexes which had most likely saved his life. However, in addition to the jumble of emotions and facts that were running through his brain with which he had to contend he felt a genuine desire to help Sakarra. Lamont buried the odd feelings bubbling within him. He quickly dismissed them as a mere professional desire to assist an injured comrade, however truthfully he did not know what to make of his current emotions and was wary of letting even the slightest hint escape.
Sakarra intrigued him for reasons he couldn’t explain – irrational reasons which both scared and infuriated him.
Swallowing, Lamont needed to focus on the matters at hand. Sakarra appeared to need assistance after their ordeal. He seemed oddly compelled to do what was needed to assist the woman who had just saved his life. The irritation that might otherwise annoy him had it been another individual was not present within him. He felt an unusual sense of calm staring into her eyes which was becoming a habit given recent events.
“Indeed I seem to have ‘pulled a few muscles’ as it were.” Sakarra tilted her head thoughtfully while trying to assess the extent of the damage to her shoulder. Well, at least nothing was dislocated. So far so good.
When she tried to push herself up however, her arms weren’t quite cooperating. Usually she might only have needed a few seconds to get this matter under control and put aside the pain until a healer could tend to the injuries.
But the human’s green eyes rested on her with an odd intensity and there was the possibility that if she relaxed and became unresponsive for several heartbeats, he might jump to the wrong conclusions.
“Can you move”, Ian asked leaning over the lieutenant attempting to visually identify any significant bodily injuries.
“Of course.” The young Vulcan set about confirming this statement and noticed another minor issue, just as she finally managed to pull herself up into a sitting position.
Small droplets of green appeared on the deck’s carpeting and upon closer inspection, there was not only a small scratch running down the side of her thigh, but that particular part of her uniform was quite ruined as well. How many did that make now?
She remembered the brief sensation of scraping along broken metal just as the airborne ambassador had taken her along on his brief flight. Well, that certainly explained that.
What remained inexplicable was the ambassador’s close proximity as he leaned over her. In fact…
Sakarra stopped examining the tattered remains of the fabric which left her leg exposed to the cool air in the corridor and lifted her face … yes. Again, Lamont was less than 3.5 centimeters away. Even the slight move of brushing away the loose strand of curls which now fell over her shoulders down towards her waist would inevitably result in yet another physical contact. At this distance, he had to feel the heat radiating off her skin and the young woman was not certain whether he was simply surprised by that or whether he was still acting so … erratically because of the stress.
Holding very still indeed, Sakarra kept her calm gaze on the human “Are you certain you are well, ambassador? I might require your assistance in reaching the sickbay after all. In this matter at least random chance seems to have operated in our favor - we are on deck seven and need not risk another encounter with a turbolift.”
“Me”, the ambassador reiterated. “Why yes. Yes I am fine. Why do you ask”, he quickly followed up. “Nevermind.” Lamont swallowed. He noticed his hands were clammy and he seemed to be having some difficulty speaking. Was it a result of his recent brush with death? He wasn’t sure. He suddenly felt himself again awash in odd emotions.
“You are hurt”, the ambassador said his voice full of concern noticing her torn uniform and the drops of blood on the carpeting. “Please, let me assist you to sickbay.” Without waiting for an answer, Ian firmly took hold of the Vulcan’s hands and cupping her at the waist pulled her upwards onto her feet.
[To Be Continued…]
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Lieutenant Sakarra Tyrax
Ambassador Ian Lamont
