Intrusion

Posted on Wed Feb 23rd, 2022 @ 7:58pm by Lieutenant Timmoz & Ensign Noah Balsam

Mission: Sojourners of Time
Location: Waverider Shuttle
Timeline: Mission Day 6 at 2030

[Waverider Shuttle]
[Deck 4, Section 6]
[Aft Crew Area]
[Concurrent to the End(ish) of "All Things Change"]

Drawing his knee up to his chest, Timmoz growled. His torso, twisted toward a PADD laid out on the top bunk, grew and shrank with a breath. "Come on... she's a chal-booska Nausicaan.... finish her..." From his PADD a cone of light rendered a hologram of two fighters circling one another. One was a Nausicaan, the other a wiry-looking Lethean. Eyes aglow in hemoglobin red, the Lethean had caught the Nausicaan's head in a crushing hold, psychic arcs of disruptive energy causing her foe to screech and twitch with rage. Her mouth-pincers gaped open and pinched at air, spasming, to the cheer of an unseen crowd.

A flurry of jerky, badly-placed punches and a final shove-kick broke the Lethean's hold. Timmoz sighed, "All you did now was piss her off...." he muttered with a headshake. He was distracted enough not to hear the hushed swipe and sigh of the Waverider's mid-span external hatch door open. The 7617th Bi-Annual Women's Tatharoc Match of Verex III had so far been... disappointing. No big upsets; though a dead Proxcinian had been stupid enough to allow her mistress to pit her against a Kalar- that one had felt more like an execution than a match.

The Verex Games had been going downhill for well over three decades now. Too many ad placements, too many rumors of pre-arranged fights with decided victors. Timmoz sighed and wondered why he bothered. The games on Justalus Moon were much more interesting. Back to basics Tatharoc.

The holograms of the Nausicaan and Lethean collided again, grappling with bulging and exposed muscles. With brutal, wrenching power the Nausicaan got hold of the Lethean's arm, twisted them. The look on the Lethean's beaked face changed from shock to contorted, bestial agony- along with a pop. When the Nausicaan put her knee into the Lethean's back and shoved, Timmoz groaned. Lime fingers tapped off the recording. "There goes five slips of Latinum..." He muttered. Looking at the timestamp- twelve days ago- he guessed that the Bank of Orion had probably withdrawn the funds by now. He picked up the PADD and tossed it gently frisbee style toward his feet. When he looked up a mop of dark hair in pajama pants and a t-shirt was staring at him.

------------

The Holodeck. Debbie's. The Computer Core. Noah had just wanted to get away, to think, to process. He hadn't meant to stumble into the Waverider Shuttle's docking bay. He'd been in here precisely once- to diagnose a launch systems bug. And that had been back at Antares Shipyard. It'd been so quiet, well away from shakedown chaos then. But it wasn't any overt choice for him.

Noah just wanted away. He hated people fighting and worse he hated being the center of one. He felt ashamed. For all the propping up Irynya had done, he'd folded spectacularly when he was confronted by the Antican. It had gone from professionally cruel to personal and Noah didn't know how to handle it. The words spoken were a blur, leaving him with the sole feeling that to Lieutenant Margarar- at least now he had a name- saw him as a non-person. He was a stench to stay upwind of. But the gnawing hurt was why.

He didn't relish having that person stay in his room. He knew not how far her vindictiveness would go. If he was a non-person, were his meager things not worthy of respect to her too? His Bright awards? His Doctor Who regalia? His models? His holo-designs?

Want of solitude had turned to concern when the mid-run hatch had opened for Noah and he, for the first time, asked himself consciously where the hell he was running to. There was an occupant in here? In short order, the puzzle was half-solved. But Noah didn't understand why.

The confusing scent of Orionness made his nostrils flare. Like... an earthy forest floor... or... something primitive, umami-ish, some kind of strange flavor enhancer. Noah felt the smooth muscles of his spine and neck easing and relaxing. Like... a whiff of alkyl nitrite had worked into his system. Noah was frozen at the doorjamb of the aft sleeping bay, staring at the top half of the lime green man. Noah watched the Orion mutter and turn off his hologram and toss it aside. Wow. Orions had nipples? They were really.... green.

Timmoz leaned back into the wall of the bunk cubicle, putting his arm and hand behind his back like he was a lounging cat. Noah's eyes drifted to the valleys and rivers of lean musculature of the bicep, tricep and underarm. "Can I help you, Cadet?" Timmoz was dulcet and amused. He sat forward, rounding his back. "My guess is," he said as he puddled the sheets around his waist- a move that drew Noah's gaze and then a quick jerk away, "You're here because Iry sent you... or you're lost." Timmoz grinned with charming toothiness, almost cocky, "I assume it's not a pleasure visit."

Timmoz pressed his green tongue to his left upper set of canines and chuckled. His arms folded over his chest and rested on his knees. Noah was trying to find words. "Just.... needed to get away, S-sir." Noah stammered. "The hatch and gang were...." he gestured vageuly behind him.

Timmoz nodded and his voice rumbled, "I see." He narrowed an eye. An eyebrow raised. ".... And why the pajamas?" Timmoz studied the words running down the skinny pant legs. Whatever Bright Foundation was. He didn't recognize the Human's Qot- or Mon.

Noah looked down at himself and folded his own arms. "I wasn't thinking... I just left," He squinted and shook his head, "It's-it's been a bad night. I'm s-sorry to interrupt you Sir. I-I didn't expect to.... you know..." Noah blinked. "Wha-what are you doing here Sir. I-if I can ask. I can go."

Timmoz smiled at the Cadet and shrugged his sloping, bare shoulders. Noah swallowed- visibly. God, they were so.... green. With just a hint of blue. Noah sniffed. "You can ask," Timmoz said carefully and evenly, still the ever-smile of Cluros in place. "Oliveria transferred to Pathfinder Station for a while. It felt strange sleeping in his quarters without him." Timmoz shrugged again. "It didn't feel right."

Noah nodded slowly. "I-I know... he's my superior officer." He tilted his mouth in doubt. He took a long pause, vaguely aware that the room was much more brightly colored than he expected, "So why come here?" He winced. "Well you are the Chief of..."

Timmoz chuckled. "Yes. Also that." Timmoz straightened his back and stretched his arms. "Could you turn around please? If we're going to talk I'd rather not do it in a bed." When Noah just blinked, Timmoz did a turning motion with his finger. Noah spun clumsily on his heel and stared into the darkness of the opposite sleeping bay. He heard the thud and vague vibration of feet touching the deck plates. Timmoz explained, "Wishful thinking," Timmoz said over the youth's shoulder. Noah dared a glance over his shoulder to see a summer green, leanly muscled back. He gulped when he saw... subtle dimples and vertical cleft and a flash of something silvery. "I want a ship of my own someday. Oliveria's quarters are... his... right now. I need something that's... not. You can turn around now. And no one was using this."

Noah sidled in a pivot back to look at the Orion- who had taken a silver towel and wrapped it around his waist. "Why not stay there so you can.... can you know?"

Timmoz grinned again, "Be with him in spirit? But he's not there." Timmoz was holding the towel with a bunched-up knot in one of his hands. He shrugged. Timmoz blinked and leaned on the bulkhead with a bend of his arm, "I know Humans enjoy Nostalgia. Orions," he wavered a hand in a so-so way, "Ambivalent about that." Noah really wished he'd stop... stop distracting him like that, his mind racing back to the embarrassing admission to Irynya in the gym. Just how complicated it felt. Charged but not wanting anything exactly.

"Is this what Iry would say is-is... an Orion thing?" Noah asked.

Timmoz nodded. "Mmmmhmmm. What's ours is ours, what is others is others. It feels wrong to take up his space with him gone. We don't dwell on absences quite like you Humans." Timmoz dashed tongue between lips. Brows rose under his coiled hair in question, "Now. Your turn. Why are you here, Cadet?"

Noah grimaced. "I-I... don't know. My roommates were fighting. Not at me.... about me. Around me."

"Ah," that seemed to genuinely surprise Timmoz and it showed in another eyebrow lift. His gaze narrowed with recall, "Irynya said something. Aren't you getting a new-" Timmoz stopped when he heard the hatch hiss and whine open.. Someone else? This was Waverider rush hour.. Noah darkened with a frown.

"Noah? You in here?" The voice of Sheldon Parsons called down the aft way.

"He's back here," Timmoz said. He tightened his hold on the knot, "A lot of guests for a weeknight," he teased as he breezed by Noah. "Stay here," he instructed.

"Kay..." Noah said as he minimized himself against the doorjamb. The waft of Orionness breezed back him and Noah blinked. It was... easier... than the first time. But why did Orions affect people like that? He'd learned about the powers of pheromones for Orion females... it was apparently some kind of skill? Some females used them, many didn't. But he hadn't expected males to smell so potent as well. It wasn't like Klingons...

It was like encountering a person that had some kind of wild, natural but otherwise only distracting sexual magnetism- a feeling that an engineer like Noah had now had precisely two experiences with. He turned away, breathed in, and tapped his mastoid bone. Noah had been so zeroed in on both the Lieutenant and how he'd intruded on the man to realize the room had notes of decor. So that was the color.

To Noah's eyes, they were... a bit gaudy. Overly colorful, clashing, and vibrant. Drapes of fabric that looked sheer and silken obscured the calm of the greige bulkheads. A small stack of Latinum sat on a desk as did a strange set of latinum-plated figurines. One was an immensely pregnant and kind of graphic nude woman. Another was a skinny, cackling man with a big beer belly. There was also some kind of... incense lighter? Finally, some sort of large instrument drew his attention. It looked a little like someone had mated a xylophone to a harp.

Noah's neck prickled- he really did feel like he'd invaded someone else's space just then- and redoubling the feeling, what the Lieutenant had just talked about around property. Instinctively Noah began to take a step back. This space was not meant for him.

A Post By:

Lieutenant Timmoz
Chief Flight Controller

&

Midshipman Noah Balsam
Systems Specialist

With special appearance by:

Ensign Sheldon Parsons
Engineer