Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds - Will All "Guests" Please Disembark
Quinn Reynolds
((Blue and Gold Room, Unknown Location))
After Alieth and Fortune had freed Quinn from the forcefield, some kind of... explosion? had knocked them all out. Upon waking, they discovered they had moved location; the three glowing statues were absent, the room a perfect dodecahedron. The faces were cornflower blue, edges glowing a gentle gold, and no other decoration, interfaces or exits that she could see. Neither Quinn nor Corliss had suffered physically for the experience, but Alieth looked as though someone had dragged her through a thorny hedge backwards. A disruptor had scored a hit on her leg, lacerations bit through uniform and into skin, and a scalp wound bled profusely.
The physical effects, however, seemed to pale compared to the mental. Corliss was fine, but the two touch telepaths had collided without preparation. Quinn had been lucky, with only fleeting scraps of memory and sensation that didn’t belong—the parched heat of a burning sun on her face, a subtle burst of florals and grass on her tongue from her father’s latest blend, the ringing clash of lirpa as fiancé and friend fought to the death. But Alieth..? The Vulcan seemed unsure if she was Alieth or Quinn Reynolds.
Lighting up the dermal regenerator again, this time Quinn directed toward the scientist's scalp wound, trying to stem the continuing trickle of blood. Nothing like a little bit of multi-tasking; she could deal with the first aid, while Corliss treated the Vulcan’s severe case of Reynoldsitis.
Plus, keeping busy helped to stave off the nausea pawing at the pit of her stomach. The Vulcan wasn’t the first person to get a look inside her head uninvited, and each time it left the sharp claws of violation digging into her shoulders and spine. She swallowed her discomfort down, and glanced toward the counsellor.
Reynolds: Can you help her? If she’s lost in my memories, I don’t think I’m the right one to lead her back out. I’d probably just make it worse.
Fortune: Got it.
While Quinn continued to tend the superficial wounds Alieth had accumulated, accompanied by the distinct feeling she was not meeting the Vulcan’s exacting standards, Corliss moved. The counsellor protected herself and her ward by pulling her sleeves down over her hands and curling her fingers inside, a makeshift barrier against skin-to-skin contact.
Fortune: Alieth, I'm going to touch your shoulder, not skin. Just breathe, okay? Let's syphon through the memories, we'll lock them up and take care of it once we're back onboard, okay?
Alieth: Is it strictly required? Can we...
Whatever protest Alieth was trying to form faded when Corliss touched her shoulder. Though the Betazoid had taken care to cover her hand and lay it somewhere there was no exposed skin, it still left the Vulcan tense and stiff. Quinn suspected a strong distaste for physical contact was a trait they shared, a vulnerability they only cared to expose to those closest to them.
Fortune: You're Lieutenant Alieth aboard the USS Gorkon. It's 2398, you're here with the Admiral and the Counsellor. Repeat it. It'll help ground you, I promise.
Alieth: ::She arched a perfectly straight Vulcan eyebrow.:: I'm Alieth, Lieutenant, serving on the USS Gorkon. The year is 2398. I am in the company of Admiral...
Her voice trailed off, and said Admiral frowned. Tendrils of disquiet pulsed and grew, wrapping around and through the hybrid's ribs. A memory intruded, of the time Kalpana brought her the terrarium David had shipped from the Independence-A. Mundane to look at, but the memories and feelings attached ran deep. Rarely had Quinn been so mortified as when Kalpana quietly admitted their forced telepathic communion meant she knew exactly what it represented.
The rush of their clumsy, blush-filled flirtations. The terrifying but exhilarating fall into her first ever love. Battling to ignore a creeping sense of rejection. His cold shoulder when she needed him most, never feeling so humiliated, small and alone. Private moments, meant only for those who had lived in them. Not for Iridians, Bolians, Vulcans or whoever else stumbled into her mind uninvited.
Fortune: Repeat, concentrate. Deep breaths. Lieutenant Alieth aboard the USS Gorkon. 2398. You are you and no one else. ::She took a breath, looking Alieth in the eyes.:: Breathe. They're overwhelming you. Relax. You are Lieutenant Alieth.
Alieth: Lieutenant Alieth aboard the USS Gorkon. 2398.
Fortune: Response
Alieth answered with a quick nod, closing her eyes. Her scalp wound was no longer bleeding, and Quinn moved on to tend to the other lacerations, working quietly while Corliss tried to help the Vulcan centre herself.
Alieth: Ot-lan¹ Al’rig-pseth², USS Gorkon. 2398. ::She paused.:: That is my name, with no adaptation so that off-worlders will be able to pronounce it.
Quinn’s Vulcan was only at a basic conversational level, but it was enough to recognise the rank and Alieth’s full name, despite the thick accent which accompanied them. Hopefully, speaking in a language definitely hers would help draw a dividing line between the two sets of memories.
Fortune: Response
The corners of their dodecahedral room shimmered, light pulsing along the facet edges, spiralling toward the ceiling above in a light show that would have delighted her daughter. It was beautiful, and despite trepidation pooling like oil in her gut, Quinn’s heart stirred and a faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. A small light of wonder in the darkness of their situation.
Voice: ³
Sound waves wrapped around her like a thick duvet, coming from everywhere, the alien pitch and tone unsettling to hybrid ears. It was like listening to music played in a different scale; not unpleasant, but strange in its unfamiliarity. Alieth blinked a few times and tilted her head, the moving prompting a subtle shift in her expression. Dismay, perhaps?
Alieth: That does not sound like anything I have ever heard before, any ideas?
Reynolds: That’s what universal translators are for. ::She shook her head.:: I’ll check it.
Fortune/Alieth: Response
Quinn returned the dermal regenerator to Alieth’s medical kit, the first aid completed. Retrieving her tricorder from her pocket, Quinn plucked her combadge from her uniform and ran a few diagnostic scans. The crystalline composite of gold, microfilament, silicon, beryllium, and carbon-70 was in full working order; powered, processing, and standing by.
Reynolds: It’s still working. It might need more samples before it can translate. ::She frowned, returning the badge to her chest, and casting hazel eyes across the various tools and equipment she’d used.:: In fact, the only things that have stopped working are our phasers.
Fortune/Alieth: Response
Voice:⁴
To their side, a facet of the room shimmered. A golden glow overtook the blue panel, brightening into a flash of blinding light, and then fading away just as quickly. The blue panel had vanished, and it was as though it had melted down to the ground, pouring into a path which led away from their... cell? Quinn pushed herself to her feet, rising slowly and cautiously. She was reluctant to head out, knowing so little about where they were or what was happening, but right now she wasn’t sure they had an alternative option.
Reynolds: Whatever it’s saying, I’m not sure we’re in a position to decline. ::She glanced down at the her fellow officers, her worried gaze lingering a little longer on Alieth.:: Is everyone ready to move?
Fortune/Alieth: Responsee
¹ Vulcan: Lieutenant
² Vulcan: “Desert-Branch”, the full Vulcan form of Alieth’s given name.
³ https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/images/9/91/Alien_Speech_1_(The_Pelian_Brief).png
⁴ https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/images/9/91/Alien_Speech_2_(The_Pelian_Brief).png
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Commanding Officer
USS Gorkon
T238401QR0