"Well," Rys says finally after a long moment of watching you, his eyes growing harder when your shoulder slump. "If you ever want it, report Nadja for... for whatever. I'll take care of it. No problem. I'm... I'm sick of people talking about you, Ashlee. I mean, the way they have. They don't get it." He gives a curt nod, like those words would settle it. "We can't get away. But we can make this place what we want." He looks away for a moment, clears his throat, "Alright. Well, let's get you back to your room." He leads you from the cafeteria back to the dorms without another word. Are you doing anything before he opens up your door?
Corporal Rys swipes at the door pad and it opens. You don't see Nadja on her bed. Or at her desk. She isn't here, unless she's in the bathroom or something. Rys's jaw tightens and he clenches a fist.
That's a surprise. I stand in the doorway tight-lipped with my armful of bars. I glance up at the corporal and make a curious "hmmm" sound.
"Well... thanks," I take a couple steps inside and turn to face him from the doorway, "she probably just... went to the washroom. Or something..." a big shrug, trying to play it off.
Room to myself, that's a good thing, really. Right?
Corporal Rys looks at you as you walk inside and turn back to him. "Ashlee, uhm, Rai. If Nadja's out of quarters and I catch her, she's going into iso. So if she's not in that bathroom, she's in some serious trouble." He pauses, then asks, "Do you want to go check, and let me know if she's in there?" He's curious about this change of heart you have for your roommate, seems to be testing the waters here.
Ourania,
"Slice and dice?"" Bea asks with a little laugh like "ph my, whatever do you mean?" But she sees it in your eyes, you know. "I was just... I dunno, bored? I've never done that before, Ourania, like ever. You don't need to worry about me. It was..." she brings the knife out from under the blanket, what looks like a razor for fine tool work maybe. "It was awful. Hurt really bad. You want to take the knife? It's zeng, I don't mind. Never do that again..." She adds a quirk of a smile, like helpless.
Bea smooths her blanket over her lap. "Well, I don't have on anything but my, ah, my underwear. And so no, I'd rather not." She senses that might not dissuade you and changes tact, "Is that why you came here? Because you saw what I... what I did? Well, thanks for checking in on me. Seriously. It's lonely in here, just the ghost of Gwen and lockdown. I'm alright. Really." She's mving the knife back under the cover.
Are you trying to Manipulate her to show her legs to you? If so, let's see some dice.
"Oh," Bea says, looking at the knife for a moment before her eyes trace back up to yuo. She hands it to you, blade first, "Here you go. Oh, wait," she turns it to hand you the handle side first. "Lockdown's over? I didn't see an announcement on my Navi. Did something happen on the ship? Surely that little... whatever it was with Jace wasn't enough for a lockdown like this."
You can see the guilt on Bea's face as you pretend to cut yourself. She looks at you, trying to figure out if you're mocking her or literally asking. She finally meets your eyes, a sense of calm coming over her, the worry lines slipping away from her eyes and the irritability dimming. "Do you wear long sleeves? When someone asks, what will you say?" She pushes the covers down, and you see her right thigh. There are a series of lines, long, thin white scars, deep red scabs, and two fresh, angry red ones. The blanket has a few streaks of blood on the inside. It's like she's welcoming you into her world, Ourania. She takes a string on you.
I plop down beside her, then go back to scraping the blade on my skin.
“I’d tell them to drokk off.” I glower at my arm, tracing the point over it slowly, thinking about how easy it would be to press down. “Besides you think Jace or Mark would care? Nadja? Everyone hates me anyway.”
I tilt my head, still tracing. “Some ancient cultures with skin like mine went for scars. Easier to see than ink, I guess.”
Bea's normally meek demeanor darkens along with yours, "Ourania... we've been stuck together, all sixteen of us, for years now. We all hate each other." She leans forward past you, pulls a pillow from near her feet and hugs it, propping her feet up on the bed so her knees support the pillow against her chest. "The guy I like is some junkie who has a thing for our resident psycho. Our class bully is authorized by our parents to beat on us until we... I dunno, until we shut up, I guess. My roomie, my only friend, died. Maybe she was murdered, I don't even know... don't want to know. The nicest person in class is in a drokking coma. And we're all on this long, slow march to Testing Day. The one test I can't, you know, study for." She huffs a breath. "Don't cut deep, you'll get muscle. Just enough so it hurts. Then the endorphins kick in. It's your body, Ourania. The only thing you can control. Until Testing Day, when they take that away from you." She props her chin on the pillow and watches, to see if you do it. It isn't a dare in her eyes, merely curiosity.
I set down the food bars on the little desk while he talks and lean a shoulder against the bunk bed to wait for Rys to finish.
Really? Fine... can't give up the game now, can I? But at least I can have a little fun. "Afraid to peek in the little girl's room, Corporal?" I have a little snicker at his expense, just teasing a bit. But he looks serious, doesn't he?
I sigh.
"Fiiine," I turn my head to watch him as I head to the little bathroom. It's pretty obvious that she's not there... not a sound... but I actually hope she's in there... cause if she isn't...
Stomm. What is she off doing? Is she just using me to keep Rys busy?
I quietly tap on the door with my knuckles, totally aware that Rys is watching me play out my little game of pretend. I feign listening for a moment then crack the door, take a brief look, and close it again.
"Oh... she's uh... totally drokking in there," I lie of course, "girl problems, corporal. You know.... " I make a kinda gross face and put my back to the door. "Might be a while."
I shrug, red-faced. He probably knows I'm lying, I know he knows... let's see if I end up in iso after all.
Corporal Rys flinches slightly, "Oh. Well, alright." It might be a fake-out, maybe he's playing along with the lie? Or perhaps he's just open to suggestion, like Nadja said. Nadja, who let you draw off the corporal so she could go do whatever. Probably "do" Mark. You could totally get her in trouble, in iso. But you don't. "Well, I hope she's okay. Take her to the infirmary if she isn't. Lockdown's over. I'm... I'm sick of it." And with that, Rys closes the door.
I stand there until the door clicks shut, then slide to the ground, back to the empty bathroom door. I finally let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding and just have to laugh at myself.
"What was that all about?" I quietly ask nobody. Rys is acting weird, and what I did to him doesn't explain everything.... it just complicates my understanding of it. I don't know how people think, really, let alone alpha guys like him. Not my usual company.
Yeah... that is the first thought. That Nadja went to drokk Mark. I argue briefly with myself whether to go find out the truth of that, or to just let it go...
But wait... lockdown's over? Rys can just decide that? No time for sulking, Ashlee! I realize that probably nobody knows lockdown's over yet... and I just have to know... I slip out into the hall, my bare feet allow me to move in near-silence if I try.
I take a look both ways and sneak next door to take a quick listen at Mark's door.
It's quiet in there and that just makes me worry even more. They're snogging on the bed or something, right? Or... wait, would I hear that? I strain to listen closer but there's no more clues, are there?
I almost knock on the door... curl my fingers into a loose fist and raise it to rap with my knuckles, but no. I'm just not that bold. I lower my hand.
"Well... just drokk you... then," I quietly say to the door, my imagination of what just must be happening getting the best of me. I feel it in my cheeks.
Abruptly I walk away kind of aimlessly down the hall.
Maybe I'll go to the speedball court where I can just enjoy the low-g tingle and be alone for a bit... should be empty, right? I slowly make my way there.
I let out a ‘pfft’ of breath when she asserts that we all hate each other. On one level she’s right I guess, but it’s not the same, not what I mean. The others fool around together, hang out, laugh. Even Rys is on the damn speedball team. Sure, everyone hates each other, but aside from me and Rys nobody is a traitor.
There’s a stab inside when she mentions Gwen, then again for Pris. Still, she’s right in the big picture. What I do (did?) is about protection of all of us from the sort of behaviour that allowed the plague. But what’s the point if we’re all just going to die anyway?
I glance up at Bea then down again considering.
“We control what we choose to control. They control what we allow them to.” I say softly.
After a moment I bite my lip and press the knife down against my arm, carefully, just enough to hurt, pulling it in a short diagonal line.
A thin line of red bubbles up behind the blade as it passes over your skin. Bea watches over you like a teacher, a wan smile on her face. It hurts, a stab of pain, followed by the rush of endorphins that nearly makes your eyes water. It's an escape, Ourania, one you've welcomed.
How good does it feel, Ourania? Why don't you Holy Steady to just enjoy it this one time?
"Well," Bea asks, her voice quiet, attentive. "How did it feel? Pain, then it felt good, right? Under your control." She reaches a steady hand for the knife. She won't take it from you, you think. But she's asking for it back.
I stare at the bloody line for a moment. Then look up at her. Her hand asking for the knife. I’m reluctant to let it go. I want another bloody line, maybe two.
“Whatever. Sure. It was… y’know…interesting.” I say. I let out a breath, reverse the knife in my hand and give it back to her.
It definitely took some kind of edge off. But the surge in me… it also felt like power. Incomplete somehow, but power none the less.
I look at Bea again, put a hand on one of her knees where they’re supporting the pillows and gently push against it.
This moment you've shared, it seems to give Bea some confidence. She nods slowly, then moves the pillow away. What you see on her pale thighs are dozens of thin lines in a myriad of directions. Rarely do they overlap, but they nearly touch several times. She looks at you for a moment before saying, "My body... is a roadmap of pain." With her index finger, she traces a clean spot, like making a mark. Then she hands you the knife back.
I scoot myself a little closer. I reach out with my free hand and ghost my fingertips over her thighs, gently tracing one line, then another, then another, working my way from the border up her leg.
Finally I touch that spot that she touched first, tracing my finger along it, and look at her again… I’m much closer now than I was before. Does she really want me to…?
Bea tenses when you first reach a finger to her cuts and scars, but there's something undeniably intimate about what you're sharing. She reaches over to your cut, drawing a finger over it in the same fashion. Blood wells up and her finger comes back red. Acting on impulse, she brings the finger to her lips and sucks on it once, bringing a clean finger out of her mouth. "It's zeng, Ourania. You can... cut me."
Not the words you expected to hear when this morning came. What do you do?
I shiver when she sucks the blood off her finger. Intimate. Yeah that's a good word for it. Intimate and present and… kind of, um… erotic. Maybe it's that which compels me to do as she asks, leaning in close to her thigh and and drawing a thin line ever so carefully with the tip of the blade.
Bea tenses with excitement, her right hand slipping to your lower back, fingers tracing the spot where your shirt rides up, touching skin. You press the blade into her skin, and Bea lets out a tiny moan of anticipation, then hisses as you draw it across. The line of bright red appears as you cut into her thigh and she bends her head to yours, touching her forehead to the side of your face, "Yes."
After you finish, her hand is sliding up your spine and she reaches for the blade, her eyes searching yours.
The world seems warm and close and unreal somehow. I watch the cut well with blood and hear her whisper. There’s a thrumming of power underneath this, dark and seductive.
Real thought is far away, muffled. I duck down and slowly lick the welling line of blood. The slight metallic taste of it is charged and I let out a little sound, pause a moment, a little lost.
I rise again, meet her gaze. I’m breathing more heavily, press the handle of the knife into her cool fingers.
The taste of her blood, Ourania, there's something there, the essence of her, a key to a door you can unlock. The power of it is heady. It's not the taste, it's the symbolism of it, like your other tricks, but deeper. Connected.
Bea sucks in a breath when you bend down and lick her. It's surprise and pleasure and excitement all rolled into one sound. When you meet her gaze, she's looking at you wide-eyed, scared and excited, nearly overwhelmed.
You press her own knife back into her hand and she looks down at it, the moment slows in your mind's eye and she closes her fingers like she's in slow-motion. Shifting, moving around to face you while she sits in the middle of the bed. With her left hand, she smooths her palm against your left thigh. Her eyes are cast down to you skin as she brings the knife to your thigh. "Ourania," she says in a voice just above a whisper, "I've never shared this. With anyone." She skillfully slides the knife over your skin, the blade just deep enough to kick in some pain as the blood follows.
Aping your bold move from moments ago, she bends down to lick the blood from your wound, her tongue drawn against the cut, lapping at you. She practically purrs, this savage act calling something deep, and primal in her. Still perched on all fours, her tongue finishing the long lick, the blade clutched in her hand, she looks up at you, Ourania. All her barriers are down right now.
I float on the high of the cut and the warmth of her tongue on my skin. She looks up at me and I feel a rumbling in my chest, a heat. I dive in quickly, thrusting one hand into her short hair and kiss her savagly, demanding, even as I push her over sideways onto the bed and move on top of her. I revel in the taste of my blood on her tongue.
There's a delicious fear in her eyes that mixes with the desire and intimacy. She offers no resistance, Ourania. Your acceptance of the knife, sharing this moment, it's all she could have wanted. She kisses you back, a hand reaching down to rub your wound, to get more blood on her hand.
Do you cut each other any more during your passion?
At the end, whenever that is, she gives you the knife, Ourania. It's cool, she wants you to have it. Also, take a String on her from Turning Her On.
I go back to my room to stow the knife and the drawing in one of my drawers full of junk.
I stand again, by reflex looking at the wall and the Commandant's picture. I'm caught suddenly by... I don't know, a sense of fragility in the picture? Brittleness.
I see the Lockdown is off. Because we defied it anyway? Hard to know.
I think I'll see who else is about. There are plans to be made.
She peers out at you with that uncanny gaze of hers, thrilling and making you feel small at the same time. "Report on the activities of your pod. Who among them is the largest threat to the ship?"
Perhaps she didn't just see what you did, Ourania.
If she's not going to mention it first. I won't either.
Threat to the ship? Is she serious?
She is, of course.
Me. Really, it's Me.
I keep the mask from cracking, keep my face impassive and my voice even. Really the second part of question is pretty new. I usually pass information, not analysis.
"Pendleton's... medical issues have taken a toll on the pod emotionally, Ma'am. Rai remains my biggest concern about subversion given her family and history. Coporal Rys finds her... distracting."
Yeah, you think I haven't seen him mooning over her? He's not terribly overt about it, but I'm not an idiot.
"However I believe any acting out by most to be merely a symptom. I believe our biggest disruptive influence is speedball. It is a seed of disunity. It divides players from non-players, serves as infrastructure for status conflict and fosters aggression."
She listens, eyes fixed on you, studying you with those piercing eyes that can almost close the distance separating you. Once your report concludes, she responds curtly, "Pendleton's infection is progressing well. The medical research team is hopeful that seeing the symptom at this early stage could prove fruitful for finding, if not a cure, some form of inoculation. She's a small sacrifice for the overall good of the ship. Apologies for the distress to the pod." Your mother pauses, her face softening for a moment, "She was well-liked, I take it? What did she offer the children that you don't?"
My hand clenches to a fist where she can't see it when she talks about Pris. Apologies. Apologies? Pris wasn't a small sacrifice. Jesus, why don't they just ask for volunteers? They would probably get some. There are days I would volunteer. But even as I think about it I know why. It isn't about us, it's about the parents on the other side. Pris' mom...
And well-liked? She was always so nice to everybody. Pretty. Smart. She made you feel like she sincerely gave a stomm. She... smelled good. I... And the way Mark treated her, for weeks! What a drokking jerk! Guy should go try to plug an open airlock.
"Trust," I say, my voice chilling a little. "With respect, Ma'am, she wasn't the daughter of the Chief Commissar of the ship."
Your mother takes that comment and offers nothing back, moving on. "I will assign Rai to an iso-cube. A week to see if she can be broken, longer if not. If she's subversive, she should be removed from the pod. This will help Rys to regain focus, though I am continually disappointed in his brutish and ineffective treatment of the children. I am considering replacing him. What is your opinion of Larsen in that role?"
"Larsen is unsuitable." I say immediately, with a little heat. I consciously reign my tone in again. "He likes stirring st...things up just to amuse himself. And I said I was concerned about Rai as a possible subversive element, Ma'am, not that she was such as of yet. I think that putting her in iso now is premature."
Your mother nods, accepting the assessments. "I need you to keep Rai close. Dr. Ilsan has been studying her development since she was released to your pod, and it's important to have some first-hand data on how she is coping with her situation." She peers at you for a moment before continuing, "If speedball is causing dissension, do you recommend dissolution of the team?"
For the first time since your conversation began, your mother hesitates. The idea of killing speedball gives her pause. "That's... quite a change. It's not only an opiate for the children, it helps with scouting for future Corporals. Still, if it is causing strife and class strata, it's worth consideration. Prepare a report on the detrimental effects of speedball and send it to me. I will review it and make a final decision." The Commandant moves on to what feels like a final topic. "Tell me about your interaction with Bea Lesserman, Ourania." Her tone remains controlled, but there's an underlying tension in the question.
I keep my expression neutral and detached. My voice calm.
"It will take some time before I have any conclusions to report on that initiative. Her stability was wavering, considering the death of her roommate and the impact of Pendelton's issues. I took advantage of the opportunity to create a bond."
Her brows rise slightly, "You created a bond. For whom? For her, or for you?" The question has a tonal shift at the end. Still doesn't feel like an accusation, but your mother's lines of questioning can flip quickly from innocuous to sharp. She tilts her head slightly to the left, awaiting an answer.
Why don't you Hold Steady here? What's the worst thing that could happen, Ourania?
I do, like, a half-roll of my eyes. Not exaggerated, but enough to express contempt at the idea Bea, or any of them, would be anything but a tool to me. I’m not an idiot, Mother.
The thought flits across my mind that maybe she wishes I had truly gotten close to someone. But I dismiss it immediately as ridiculous. She's a commissar. She's the commissar. That's just not how we are.
“Both, of course, Ma'am. For her to stabilize with, and for me to use as necessary to further my objectives.”
I’m trying to keep my voice professional but maybe the tiniest bit of snark snuck in there.
The worst thing that could happen would probably be if Bea heard that somehow.
Your mother says nothing for several beats. It seems that she picked up that snark, but she can't place the stem of the derision.
"Your objectives are paramount, Ourania. I approve of your actions for the protection of the ship." She says this in a clear tone, but without much warmth. It feels perfunctory. She glances down at some display off screen, looking for any remaining items of import. That's when an alarm sounds in your area, red lights flash and your mother quickly looks off screen. "Ourania, your roommate is destroying the Med Bay." She sounds annoyed, but not unnerved. "What is wrong with the failed clone? I thought she was well in hand."
I look around at the lights. Then with what the Commandant says…
“I-I don’t know. She has been perfectly tractable. The only thing that’s really been pushing her buttons recently is all the personal stuff meant for her template coming to her. Perhaps Haladay antagonized her over that or over Hyo.” I can’t think of any other reason she would be in the med bay, unless she hurt herself again. “She said last night that he was…difficult. He didn’t give her any pain meds or use mesh for her broken nose, Ma’am.”
Which is something I thought was odd. Haladay has always been very nice to me, but I get the sense it’s because of the Commandant, not because he likes me. If I would have broken my nose he probably would have insisted on painkillers.
Your mother switches the video display to the cam feeds following Tabitha as she runs out of the Med Bay, down four corridors, towards Pod Twelve. You see her open the door and run into Corporal Tek, who stuns her. There is a conversation between the Corporals, then Tek picks up Tabitha.
"That's a week in iso for your roommate, Ourania." your mother says as the image flickers from the cams back to her. "I will speak with Dr. Haladay to corroborate her claims. This is not beneficial for the ship. For us. If she is unstable, then she will have to be dealt with. If Dr. Haladay is unable to fulfill his duties... then he will have to be dealt with." She makes a small noise of displeasure. "I need you to make a thorough evaluation of Smith when she returns. If she is a threat, you will inform me. Correct?"
And how many such things do we do until there is no one left to ‘deal with,’ Mother?
“Of course, Ma’am.” I answer. “I will do my duty to the ship”
I take a breath.
“Mother, I have a personal request. As you know it is almost the anniversary of… of Father’s passing.” I swallow, glancing down then back at her. Letting my lip tremble just a little. “I… Miss him and I was hoping… would you send me his ring? Please? It’s something I could keep with me.”
Your mother's icy gaze softens at the mention of her husband, your father. She considers for a moment, meeting your eyes over the video screen, closing the gulf between you that spans the ship. "Three days." Saying the time makes it sting a little more. There's a heaviness in her tone that shows how it affects her, too. "I'll give you a special dispensation to come to the Lock in three days, Ourania. I'll be there. I'll give you his ring, and perhaps we can talk face-to-face." Of course, she'll have to wear an encounter suit, none of her underlings would allow her exposure to you, even if you're not infected.
Comments
Ashlee,
He looks away for a moment, clears his throat, "Alright. Well, let's get you back to your room." He leads you from the cafeteria back to the dorms without another word. Are you doing anything before he opens up your door?
No. Not while I'm with the corporal. I just let him take me back to the room and try to put on a good face for Nadja... hey, at least I got some food.
I was hoping to score some blisstabs at least, but I guess that has to wait. Funny how he seems to disapprove, but doesn't seem to care if I want it.
I have to wonder how this all would be going if I hadn't pushed him that way.
Ashlee,
Corporal Rys swipes at the door pad and it opens. You don't see Nadja on her bed. Or at her desk. She isn't here, unless she's in the bathroom or something. Rys's jaw tightens and he clenches a fist.
What do you do?
That's a surprise.
I stand in the doorway tight-lipped with my armful of bars. I glance up at the corporal and make a curious "hmmm" sound.
"Well... thanks," I take a couple steps inside and turn to face him from the doorway, "she probably just... went to the washroom. Or something..." a big shrug, trying to play it off.
Room to myself, that's a good thing, really. Right?
My lips quirk at her reaction, and I move into the room, looking around.
"Me? I'm not the one playing slice and dice." I motion to her legs, covered by the blanket. "What's that about?"
Ashlee,
Ourania,
What do you do?
I raise my eyebrows at her like “really?”
“That so? How about I take a good look at your legs then?”
Ourania,
Are you trying to Manipulate her to show her legs to you? If so, let's see some dice.
I stride forward holding out my hand.
"Here, give me that." I say, pointing at the knife in her hand. "And I'm really just letting people out. If they want."
Ourania,
“No. It’s not over. I just don’t care. Jace got what he had coming. Why should we stay locked up? What are they going to do, really?”
I take the knife, scrape my thumb over the blade, testing its sharpness. I pull back my sleeve and ghost the sharp edge over the inside of my forearm.
“This a good spot?”
Ourania,
It's like she's welcoming you into her world, Ourania. She takes a string on you.
I plop down beside her, then go back to scraping the blade on my skin.
“I’d tell them to drokk off.” I glower at my arm, tracing the point over it slowly, thinking about how easy it would be to press down. “Besides you think Jace or Mark would care? Nadja? Everyone hates me anyway.”
I tilt my head, still tracing. “Some ancient cultures with skin like mine went for scars. Easier to see than ink, I guess.”
Ourania,
She huffs a breath. "Don't cut deep, you'll get muscle. Just enough so it hurts. Then the endorphins kick in. It's your body, Ourania. The only thing you can control. Until Testing Day, when they take that away from you." She props her chin on the pillow and watches, to see if you do it. It isn't a dare in her eyes, merely curiosity.
I set down the food bars on the little desk while he talks and lean a shoulder against the bunk bed to wait for Rys to finish.
Really? Fine... can't give up the game now, can I? But at least I can have a little fun.
"Afraid to peek in the little girl's room, Corporal?" I have a little snicker at his expense, just teasing a bit. But he looks serious, doesn't he?
I sigh.
"Fiiine," I turn my head to watch him as I head to the little bathroom. It's pretty obvious that she's not there... not a sound... but I actually hope she's in there... cause if she isn't...
Stomm. What is she off doing? Is she just using me to keep Rys busy?
This sucks.
Ashlee,
She isn't. She's not here, Ashlee, she left.
Rys is standing at the door, waiting. What do you do?
I quietly tap on the door with my knuckles, totally aware that Rys is watching me play out my little game of pretend. I feign listening for a moment then crack the door, take a brief look, and close it again.
"Oh... she's uh... totally drokking in there," I lie of course, "girl problems, corporal. You know.... " I make a kinda gross face and put my back to the door. "Might be a while."
I shrug, red-faced. He probably knows I'm lying, I know he knows... let's see if I end up in iso after all.
Ashlee,
Leaving you all alone. What do you do?
I stand there until the door clicks shut, then slide to the ground, back to the empty bathroom door. I finally let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding and just have to laugh at myself.
"What was that all about?" I quietly ask nobody. Rys is acting weird, and what I did to him doesn't explain everything.... it just complicates my understanding of it. I don't know how people think, really, let alone alpha guys like him. Not my usual company.
Yeah... that is the first thought. That Nadja went to drokk Mark. I argue briefly with myself whether to go find out the truth of that, or to just let it go...
But wait... lockdown's over? Rys can just decide that? No time for sulking, Ashlee! I realize that probably nobody knows lockdown's over yet... and I just have to know... I slip out into the hall, my bare feet allow me to move in near-silence if I try.
I take a look both ways and sneak next door to take a quick listen at Mark's door.
Ashlee,
Nobody is in the hall. In Mark's room, you hear some music playing lightly, but no conversation or anything.
It's quiet in there and that just makes me worry even more. They're snogging on the bed or something, right? Or... wait, would I hear that? I strain to listen closer but there's no more clues, are there?
I almost knock on the door... curl my fingers into a loose fist and raise it to rap with my knuckles, but no. I'm just not that bold. I lower my hand.
"Well... just drokk you... then," I quietly say to the door, my imagination of what just must be happening getting the best of me. I feel it in my cheeks.
Abruptly I walk away kind of aimlessly down the hall.
Maybe I'll go to the speedball court where I can just enjoy the low-g tingle and be alone for a bit... should be empty, right? I slowly make my way there.
Ashlee,
Please go here.
I let out a ‘pfft’ of breath when she asserts that we all hate each other. On one level she’s right I guess, but it’s not the same, not what I mean. The others fool around together, hang out, laugh. Even Rys is on the damn speedball team. Sure, everyone hates each other, but aside from me and Rys nobody is a traitor.
There’s a stab inside when she mentions Gwen, then again for Pris. Still, she’s right in the big picture. What I do (did?) is about protection of all of us from the sort of behaviour that allowed the plague. But what’s the point if we’re all just going to die anyway?
I glance up at Bea then down again considering.
“We control what we choose to control. They control what we allow them to.” I say softly.
After a moment I bite my lip and press the knife down against my arm, carefully, just enough to hurt, pulling it in a short diagonal line.
Ourania,
A thin line of red bubbles up behind the blade as it passes over your skin. Bea watches over you like a teacher, a wan smile on her face. It hurts, a stab of pain, followed by the rush of endorphins that nearly makes your eyes water. It's an escape, Ourania, one you've welcomed.
How good does it feel, Ourania? Why don't you Holy Steady to just enjoy it this one time?
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 2, 2. Total: 6)
+1 xp
Ourania,
Take the condition Addicted to pain.
What do you do?
I stare at the bloody line for a moment. Then look up at her. Her hand asking for the knife. I’m reluctant to let it go. I want another bloody line, maybe two.
“Whatever. Sure. It was… y’know…interesting.” I say. I let out a breath, reverse the knife in my hand and give it back to her.
It definitely took some kind of edge off. But the surge in me… it also felt like power. Incomplete somehow, but power none the less.
I look at Bea again, put a hand on one of her knees where they’re supporting the pillows and gently push against it.
“Let me see?”
With her index finger, she traces a clean spot, like making a mark. Then she hands you the knife back.
What do you do?
I scoot myself a little closer. I reach out with my free hand and ghost my fingertips over her thighs, gently tracing one line, then another, then another, working my way from the border up her leg.
Finally I touch that spot that she touched first, tracing my finger along it, and look at her again… I’m much closer now than I was before. Does she really want me to…?
"It's zeng, Ourania. You can... cut me."
Not the words you expected to hear when this morning came. What do you do?
I shiver when she sucks the blood off her finger. Intimate. Yeah that's a good word for it. Intimate and present and… kind of, um… erotic. Maybe it's that which compels me to do as she asks, leaning in close to her thigh and and drawing a thin line ever so carefully with the tip of the blade.
After you finish, her hand is sliding up your spine and she reaches for the blade, her eyes searching yours.
What do you do?
The world seems warm and close and unreal somehow. I watch the cut well with blood and hear her whisper. There’s a thrumming of power underneath this, dark and seductive.
Real thought is far away, muffled. I duck down and slowly lick the welling line of blood. The slight metallic taste of it is charged and I let out a little sound, pause a moment, a little lost.
I rise again, meet her gaze. I’m breathing more heavily, press the handle of the knife into her cool fingers.
Ourania,
The taste of her blood, Ourania, there's something there, the essence of her, a key to a door you can unlock. The power of it is heady. It's not the taste, it's the symbolism of it, like your other tricks, but deeper. Connected.
You press her own knife back into her hand and she looks down at it, the moment slows in your mind's eye and she closes her fingers like she's in slow-motion. Shifting, moving around to face you while she sits in the middle of the bed. With her left hand, she smooths her palm against your left thigh. Her eyes are cast down to you skin as she brings the knife to your thigh. "Ourania," she says in a voice just above a whisper, "I've never shared this. With anyone." She skillfully slides the knife over your skin, the blade just deep enough to kick in some pain as the blood follows.
Aping your bold move from moments ago, she bends down to lick the blood from your wound, her tongue drawn against the cut, lapping at you. She practically purrs, this savage act calling something deep, and primal in her. Still perched on all fours, her tongue finishing the long lick, the blade clutched in her hand, she looks up at you, Ourania. All her barriers are down right now.
What do you do?
I float on the high of the cut and the warmth of her tongue on my skin. She looks up at me and I feel a rumbling in my chest, a heat. I dive in quickly, thrusting one hand into her short hair and kiss her savagly, demanding, even as I push her over sideways onto the bed and move on top of her. I revel in the taste of my blood on her tongue.
Ourania,
Might be a little late in the game, but you're definitely Turning Her On. Let's see how that goes.
(Rolled: 2d6-1. Rolls: 6, 5. Total: 10)
+1xp
Ourania,
There's a delicious fear in her eyes that mixes with the desire and intimacy. She offers no resistance, Ourania. Your acceptance of the knife, sharing this moment, it's all she could have wanted. She kisses you back, a hand reaching down to rub your wound, to get more blood on her hand.
Do you cut each other any more during your passion?
At the end, whenever that is, she gives you the knife, Ourania. It's cool, she wants you to have it. Also, take a String on her from Turning Her On.
Mostly no. We're too caught up in other things. Pushing clothes out of the way of sensitive parts, you know, stuff like that.
But near the end I do another cut on my arm, when I've got her on the edge. And I put it to her mouth as I pushed her to climax.
Afterward, I dress and leave her dozing on her bed.
Ourania,
Well, Ms. Mayfly, where shall you go next?
-------------------------
Let's call this a new scene for purposes of Singleton rule. Keeping it in the same thread.
I go back to my room to stow the knife and the drawing in one of my drawers full of junk.
I stand again, by reflex looking at the wall and the Commandant's picture. I'm caught suddenly by... I don't know, a sense of fragility in the picture? Brittleness.
I see the Lockdown is off. Because we defied it anyway? Hard to know.
I think I'll see who else is about. There are plans to be made.
Ourania,
The indicator light for an incoming message blinks on your Navi. Someone's calling you.
Do you have a specific color for your mother's calls?
It’s a greenish blue color. Dad always used to give her things that were that color.
I raise an eyebrow, feeling a new burn in my gut. Is this what it takes to get her to call me?
I pick up the Navi and accept the call
Ourania,
This image comes on the holo projector:
"Hello, daughter." she says in a clipped tone. She looks professional, controlled. As always.
“Ma’am” I return, my voice cool with the same precise and professional demeanor.
Perhaps she didn't just see what you did, Ourania.
Perhaps.
What do you do?
If she's not going to mention it first. I won't either.
Threat to the ship? Is she serious?
She is, of course.
Me. Really, it's Me.
I keep the mask from cracking, keep my face impassive and my voice even. Really the second part of question is pretty new. I usually pass information, not analysis.
"Pendleton's... medical issues have taken a toll on the pod emotionally, Ma'am. Rai remains my biggest concern about subversion given her family and history. Coporal Rys finds her... distracting."
Yeah, you think I haven't seen him mooning over her? He's not terribly overt about it, but I'm not an idiot.
"However I believe any acting out by most to be merely a symptom. I believe our biggest disruptive influence is speedball. It is a seed of disunity. It divides players from non-players, serves as infrastructure for status conflict and fosters aggression."
Your mother pauses, her face softening for a moment, "She was well-liked, I take it? What did she offer the children that you don't?"
My hand clenches to a fist where she can't see it when she talks about Pris. Apologies. Apologies? Pris wasn't a small sacrifice. Jesus, why don't they just ask for volunteers? They would probably get some. There are days I would volunteer. But even as I think about it I know why. It isn't about us, it's about the parents on the other side. Pris' mom...
And well-liked? She was always so nice to everybody. Pretty. Smart. She made you feel like she sincerely gave a stomm. She... smelled good. I... And the way Mark treated her, for weeks! What a drokking jerk! Guy should go try to plug an open airlock.
"Trust," I say, my voice chilling a little. "With respect, Ma'am, she wasn't the daughter of the Chief Commissar of the ship."
What a question. I mean is she drokking with me?
"Larsen is unsuitable." I say immediately, with a little heat. I consciously reign my tone in again. "He likes stirring st...things up just to amuse himself. And I said I was concerned about Rai as a possible subversive element, Ma'am, not that she was such as of yet. I think that putting her in iso now is premature."
She peers at you for a moment before continuing, "If speedball is causing dissension, do you recommend dissolution of the team?"
I merely nod in acknowledgment of her instructions on Ashlee, then respond to her question.
“Dissolving our team in isolation is unwise and would foment disunity. It would be better to suspend speedball entirely.”
The Commandant moves on to what feels like a final topic. "Tell me about your interaction with Bea Lesserman, Ourania." Her tone remains controlled, but there's an underlying tension in the question.
What do you do?
I keep my expression neutral and detached. My voice calm.
"It will take some time before I have any conclusions to report on that initiative. Her stability was wavering, considering the death of her roommate and the impact of Pendelton's issues. I took advantage of the opportunity to create a bond."
She tilts her head slightly to the left, awaiting an answer.
Why don't you Hold Steady here? What's the worst thing that could happen, Ourania?
I do, like, a half-roll of my eyes. Not exaggerated, but enough to express contempt at the idea Bea, or any of them, would be anything but a tool to me. I’m not an idiot, Mother.
The thought flits across my mind that maybe she wishes I had truly gotten close to someone. But I dismiss it immediately as ridiculous. She's a commissar. She's the commissar. That's just not how we are.
“Both, of course, Ma'am. For her to stabilize with, and for me to use as necessary to further my objectives.”
I’m trying to keep my voice professional but maybe the tiniest bit of snark snuck in there.
The worst thing that could happen would probably be if Bea heard that somehow.
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 6, 5. Total: 13)
+1 xp (now +5. Advancing)
My cool demeanor gives me an advantage here. I’m not that easy to read, even for my own Mother, and she was the one who taught me.
(taking +2 forward)
Ourania,
Your mother says nothing for several beats. It seems that she picked up that snark, but she can't place the stem of the derision.
She glances down at some display off screen, looking for any remaining items of import. That's when an alarm sounds in your area, red lights flash and your mother quickly looks off screen. "Ourania, your roommate is destroying the Med Bay." She sounds annoyed, but not unnerved. "What is wrong with the failed clone? I thought she was well in hand."
I look around at the lights. Then with what the Commandant says…
“I-I don’t know. She has been perfectly tractable. The only thing that’s really been pushing her buttons recently is all the personal stuff meant for her template coming to her. Perhaps Haladay antagonized her over that or over Hyo.” I can’t think of any other reason she would be in the med bay, unless she hurt herself again. “She said last night that he was…difficult. He didn’t give her any pain meds or use mesh for her broken nose, Ma’am.”
Which is something I thought was odd. Haladay has always been very nice to me, but I get the sense it’s because of the Commandant, not because he likes me. If I would have broken my nose he probably would have insisted on painkillers.
Ourania,
Your mother switches the video display to the cam feeds following Tabitha as she runs out of the Med Bay, down four corridors, towards Pod Twelve. You see her open the door and run into Corporal Tek, who stuns her. There is a conversation between the Corporals, then Tek picks up Tabitha.
"I need you to make a thorough evaluation of Smith when she returns. If she is a threat, you will inform me. Correct?"
And how many such things do we do until there is no one left to ‘deal with,’ Mother?
“Of course, Ma’am.” I answer. “I will do my duty to the ship”
I take a breath.
“Mother, I have a personal request. As you know it is almost the anniversary of… of Father’s passing.” I swallow, glancing down then back at her. Letting my lip tremble just a little. “I… Miss him and I was hoping… would you send me his ring? Please? It’s something I could keep with me.”
Ourania,
I think you're trying to Manipulate her here. Let's see some dice!
Manipulating with my +2 forward.
+1xp
Ourania,
"I'll give you a special dispensation to come to the Lock in three days, Ourania. I'll be there. I'll give you his ring, and perhaps we can talk face-to-face." Of course, she'll have to wear an encounter suit, none of her underlings would allow her exposure to you, even if you're not infected.
End Scene