<<Takes place right after the Vulcan is delivered to the brig (obviously) and before the Marine learns what she and her merry band of thieves have done>>
[USS Charon, Brig]
Lamont sighed leaning against the wall of his cell. The small confines of the cold room had become his unofficial quarters aboard the Charon as of late. There was little to do except quietly reflect and meditate. He placed a hand upon his arm which still ached with a dull pain. The medics had again taken care of his injuries within the brig per the captain's orders.
He couldn't understand the captain. One minute she was rational and almost logical and the next she was as violent and unpredictable as a drunken Klingon whose honor had been insulted. Rehu was capable of generosity and affection, her marriage to a human was fact of such of thing as difficult as it was to fathom, yet she could be as vicious and deadly as an ancient Earth Velociraptor. How her husband had survived such a union was baffling to the ambassador.
For such a person of severe and conflicting impulses he himself was torn between respecting and reviling her along with a propensity to wring her neck on occasion. She was the most obstinate individual he knew other than perhaps himself. However she was also exceptional at her job despite her harshness. He would give her that. There were actually many things he admired in brief periods when she wasn't throwing a tantrum like a child, shoving her boot up his rear, or issuing orders in delicate situations that flew in the face of common sense or normal diplomacy.
Ian shut his eyes trying to find some tiny glint of reason behind her order to have him detained yet again after what had occurred. He could see some tiny spec of reason in her decision, but the punishment seemed in great excess. He had not committed any real crime and in fact had tried to make amends for past mistakes yet despite such things he found himself once again confined in the brig.
Sitting here alone he wondered if it were even possible to work with her or salvage any semblance of a professional relationship. If he avoided her he would be doing a disservice to her, the ship, its crew, and the Federation – not to mention himself. How could he offer her advice when she seldom, if ever, sought his council? If she would not listen to him must he endure the brig at their every encounter?
When two people were true to what they believed then perhaps such things were unavoidable. He had no idea what she believed, but he at least knew his own beliefs. If the brig was his new home as a result of him performing his duties then so be it. At least in here he would know he had tried and failed. Staying out of the captain's path and doing nothing in the comfort of his quarters would perhaps be far worse than his current predicament. He couldn't live with himself. If Rehu felt the need to keep him under lock and key then he would take solace in the fact that this is where she wanted him. If his confinement was somehow a benefit to the ship or perhaps even to her then he would just have to swallow his pride and accept it. He couldn't beat her and it would seem even his attempts to join her, as they saying went, had met with failure.
What was an ambassador to do?
Reflecting on such things, Lamont's eye snapped open when the doors to the brig opened. Listening to every muted voice he strained in silence to capture their words which provided some momentary distraction from the silence around him.
He heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Commander Tyrax escorted by several guards. Was she here to pay him another visit?
No. He couldn't place it. While her expression was as blank as ever, Ian just felt something was out of place. He had no explanation.
His suspicions were ever present when the forcefield holding him was lowered and she stepped inside as the guards reactivated the field and left. He quickly stood wincing momentarily as his leg yelled at him for the quick movement. It too was still healing after his encounter with the mercenary which oddly enough was only a bulkhead away. Not a comforting thought, however the presence of the commander was a far more pressing matter.
"Commander Tyrax", Ian said softly. "What do I owe the pleasure?"
"Ambassador." The young Vulcan inclined her head in greeting, her face the same mask of marble it had been for several hours now. "My apologies for disturbing your rest at this hour."
Gazing at the interior of the cold cell and then the obvious discomfort on Lamont's face, she gestured for him to please sit back down before she settled on the carpet herself.
So cold. She should have felt satisfaction, or at least a sense of peace for great wrongs having been righted, perhaps greater wrongs averted. But there was only weariness, and a dull, vague sense of pain. Folding her fingers in her lap, Sakarra knew she was the perfect image of serenity – until one looked into dark, clouded eyes and knew to read the signs. The burning fury that had been denied a target had left her empty, but it was the losses she would still have to face that weighed on her soul like a millstone.
And still, … it was right the way it was.
"I am gratified you see my company as a pleasure, Mr Lamont." Her voice, melodious and betraying her emotionally drained state only by an unusually soft timbre, floated through the confines of the small room like a desert breeze. "Especially since it is likely I shall remain for some time."
Lamont clicked the back of his teeth together; a habit when he was in deep thought. Something was different about the commander. She did not look any different nor were her words dissimilar to others yet something..something was out of place. Alarm bells were sounding that something was amiss or was it? Were his instincts wrong?
"Your company is always valued and welcomed commander", Lamont replied. "Is there something you wish to speak about? What topic do you wish to discuss which would consume so much of your time
"No discussion, ambassador." At last, she lifted her face to the fair haired male sitting on the bunk. Had he truly not understood the meaning of the security guards bringing her here? No, it was more logical to assume he was trying to be polite. Whatever some people's opinions concerning Lamont and his often ill advised actions, the man knew how to observe and draw conclusions.
Though in all honesty Sakarra did not know what he would make of the fact she had been escorted by such an impressive number of guards – it would have been sufficient to spark her own humor, being deemed a prisoner worthy of such an entourage, but there was little amusement left in her. Except perhaps the sardonic, dry acknowledgement of the odd jokes the universe loved to play.
"I am in fact here for the same reason as you. To await charges."
There were subtle cracks appearing in her mask of stone, betraying little more than a bone-deep weariness that owed nothing to physical exertion and everything to silent grief. Yet it would hardly do to burden the injured, and as the Vulcan well knew, unsettled human by showing any overt signs.
"What do you mean? Arrested", Lamont said barely managing to cloak the surprise in his voice. His suspicions were confirmed. What possible actions had the helmsman taken to land her here? It did not seem possible that someone of Tyrax's intelligence and adherence to duty could ever land her on the wrong end of regulations. Lamont was almost having difficulty believing such a thing if he was not looking at her with his own eyes. For all he knew he was this ship's maverick, undisciplined officer. He knew why he was here and accepted it – partially, but Sakarra? If this was somehow Rehu's doing then the captain was even colder and more backstabbing that he ever thought possible.
He opened his mouth to speak, but rapidly closed it. Vulcans were a private people and no doubt if the commander was in some type of trouble it was none of his business. Inquiring further of the matter would be both rude if not also intrusive. He remembered his own agitation sitting within these walls as others stared inside. He couldn't begin to imagine what was running through her mind at this moment.
"Commander…Sakarra, I shall not inquire further unless you wish to speak of this matter. It is none of my concern and you must want to rest and meditate on matters. I apologize that I have nothing to offer you, but the brig is not exactly what I consider luxury accommodations. Instead I shall offer you my silence. If you feel the need to talk about any subject I am here."
Lamont stood stretching for a moment. He wasn't tired. Sitting in a cell all day left one with ample energy.
"If you require rest please use the bunk. I have no use for it for the foreseeable future. It is only logical that we share what few accommodations are available. I will insist that we do so. I cannot have you sleeping on the cold floor nor would I permit such a thing."
[To be continued …]
Ambassador Ian Lamont
And
Lt. Commander Sakarra Tyrax
