Aug 14, 2015, 12:20:39 AM8/14/15
::The Q could be rather infuriating and their tendency to simply
transport her and her colleagues at their whim certainly didn’t help
Alora’s mood. Although she was unhurt, the jerking motion that had sent
her tumbling to the floor had merely added insult to injury. They
needed an answer and they needed it soon.::
Libório: You all right?
DeVeau: Bruised by not broken.
::As she answered, Alora pushed herself to her feet and glanced around.
Hands clapped against her thighs to rid her pants of the dust that had
collected since the Q had transported her onto dirt and grass while she
was still prostrate. She paused in her ministrations when she realised
the area seemed familiar.::
Libório: Do you recognize this place? I don't.
::Did she recognise it? Her eyes shifted to a pagoda and a frown marred
her normally uplifted lips. What were they trying to do?::
DeVeau: I do.
::She did. She did indeed.
The garden was immaculately kept with grass trimmed completely level,
every tree and bush carefully place. As branches twisted and turned,
each piece of flora seemed to pose for the seren picture alongside the
bridge and gently winding creek. It was a haven amidst a sea of chaos,
an oasis in the middle of a desert of buildings and constructs. The
high walls of the garden helped filter out the hustle and bustle of the
city that lay just feet away on one side, the other flanking trees that
had been planted three quarters of a century prior in an effort to bring
nature back to the city. Inside, there was nothing but calm, the gurgle
of the water, the rustle of leaves from the trees as the wind teased
them. Normally, there would have been others there, others like her who
sought refuge from their everyday lives and their hectic existence, even
if it was just for a few moments. ::
DeVeau: We’re at my old secondary school.
::With a slight laugh, Alora shook her head.::
DeVeau: This garden was originally built by the first graduating class
to graduate from Ishikawa School of Science and Technology. Since then,
every class has done something to improve it. Originally, it was about
half this size, but has doubled as time went on.
::In fact, her own class had raised money to expand the garden even
further, though she had yet to go back and see what had come of their
efforts. The garden before her there was the way it had been during her
::Movement caught her eye and a figure appeared. Upon the bridge
perched a little girl adorned in a pale, pink silk kimono. Her hair had
been twisted into a bun and darker pink chopsticks held it in place. As
they turned toward her, Alora noted that the child was not Japanese.
::Expectantly, Alora waited for the translation, then realised that
there would be none forthcoming. If they were on the ship, and she had
a feeling they were, the Q had turned off the universal translator.::
::The science officer turned to Libório as the child hurried off the
bridge and rushed to the man as quickly as the kimono would allow her.::
DeVeau: You’re her dad?
Andressa: Otouchan, koko doko nanda?
::If she was his child, then why was she speaking Japanese? It was
probably out out spite, another way they were having fun at someone
DeVeau: She’s asking you where she is.
::Although where they were could depend on one’s interpretation.::
DeVeau: Okay. That’s it. Time for this game to be _over_.
::Without another word, Alora spun on her heel and aimed for a door of
dark wood and pale rice paper. She slid it open and stormed through
into the main building. Suddenly, they were out of the stillness of
the garden and into the awkward artificial brightness of man. The
hallways stretched on either side of them as she aimed for another door
across the way. Walls were lined with an array of images, all flashing
as smiling faces gave way to characters that Alora could read but
ignored. Advertisement for class president had no meaning there, they
had a far more important purpose.
Through those winding corridors and out to the front, Alora led what
was left of her rag tag team. Walls lined with spiked railings parted
at the entrance. She passed through the gate, then turned and aimed for
a pole. As she approached, she grabbed on to the ropes and untied them,
allowing them to slip freely through the pully system. From on high,
white and red descended, then covered her form. For a moment, she
fumbled and fluttered with the floating fabric just before she yanked it
off the clips and began to fold it.::
DeVeau: She wanted a flag, she’s got a flag.
DeVeau: I don’t know.
::Once properly folded and rolled, she brandished the fat bundle like a
DeVeau: You wanted a flag, here’s your flag!
::Come out, come out where ever you are.::
::Then again, perhaps she should be careful what she wished for.::
Lt. Alora DeVeau
Chief of Science
Lt. Alora DeVeau