JP: Commodore Taybrim & Lt. Cmdr. DeVeau - “Vulnerable” (Part 1)
Jamie LeBlanc
((Virixis VI - Alora’s Cabin))
Alora’s fingers danced over the keys of the piano, the ivory and black rectangles bouncing up and down as her hands worked her way over them. The speed was far too slow for the piece, Chopin’s Etude in G-sharp minor, but there was no way Alora was anywhere near ready to play a tempo. Known among pianists as one of the most difficult pieces to play, she had set it before her as a challenge, a goal, something to take up time and effort and brainpower as well as a composition that would allow her to stretch her skills and become a better player. Playing in thirds wasn’t for the faint hearted, but that piece was an ambitious project for even the foremost pianists. Needless to say, it was even more exacting for someone whose every waking moment wasn’t set before a piano. Although she had been playing for two and a half decades, Alora found herself stumbling at handling those thirds, particularly with the delicate touch the semi-quavers required.
Yet, she was not above attempting something difficult. Scaling a mountain like that particular étude, pushing through the complicated runs and delicate trills that raced up and down the keys, would only end in a deep sense of satisfaction one felt after overcoming such a task. So, despite the painstakingly sluggish pace she had to set just to get through the first two measures, she was determined to wade through it. Like anything else, it was most difficult when first approached, and only time and practise would help her push through.
She’d gone through the two measures she’d planned to tackle seven times when the chirp of the door made her hands pause and she turned on the small bench to face the door of her cabin. When the system was told to allow the visitor to enter, the door opened and a familiar face passed through.
DeVeau: Commodore.
Formal. That wasn’t normally Alora’s style, but she bounced back and forth with him, uncertainty making her doubt, doubt making her traverse down a more cautious road.
Taybrim: Commander ::He gave her a polite, gentle greeting with a traditional Betazoid gesture.::
DeVeau: To what do I owe the visit?
Taybrim: I wanted to touch base with you and see how you were doing.
Just like Sal. He was always looking out for others, always making sure they were taken care of. Dropping her gaze, her smile took on a little more humour which reflected in her eyes when she finally raised them again.
DeVeau: Do you feel like I need to be checked on?
Taybrim: I know the mission was harrowing, but I am more concerned about your overall well being.
Maybe he was still thinking of the telepathic contact he had with her. Perhaps it was a general sense of worry for her condition. Both? She was a valuable member of the crew and he wanted to make sure she was well.
Harrowing. It was an apt word, one she had used on many occasions herself. Now? That mission? It wasn’t harrowing. Not compared to other experiences.
DeVeau: Trust me when I say I’ve been through worse.
Much worse, physically, emotionally, telepathically. Alora wasn’t sure if there was going to be anything else thrown at her that compared.
DeVeau: More importantly, how are you doing?
Did anyone ever ask him that? Did anyone check after the Commodore? See to his well being? Alora hoped so.
Taybrim: I am well enough. Though I always worry that there is still more to do.
A gross understatement if there ever was one. But he had taken the time to start to process all that had happened. It was a journey, and he was moving forward.
Still, there were things that lingered in his mind as issues that could come up in the future. And that always worried him.
DeVeau: But it’s over. And we won. ::She paused for a moment, then added - :: You won.
Taybrim: We all won ::he gently offered:: You, Max, Sheila, the whole crew. We all helped. You were more help than you could know.
DeVeau: Not me. I got involved at the last minute. You’ve been dealing with this for how many years?
Sal took in a long, slow breath and contemplated that question. A while. A long while.
Taybrim: Nearly three for the cult itself. ::he considered:: Over five for dealing with the Syndicate.
Ah. That was one area where they still had a war - but this, they’d won against the Cult, and that was a decisive victory. It didn’t end everything, but it did cut off a very real threat, and for the moment, Alora felt they could at least take some relief in that.
DeVeau: There will always be more to do, unfortunately. The Syndicate is a much bigger fish to fry.
Taybrim: I have to accept that some things will never truly go away, but we are able to protect what we love rather than destroy what we hate.
DeVeau: That’s the difference between us and them. We don’t fight because we want to, we fight because we have to, and if we can find other ways to accomplish our goals, so much the better.
He nodded gently, in complete agreement on this.
Taybrim: I agree, this is true. I have hope that if we stay on this course we can protect what we value and help our allies to continue to strengthen themselves. Even in this harrowing mission we still met and worked with plenty of Klingons who understood the stakes and rose to protect what was valuable to them.
Alora studied the man for a moment, her expression neutral, eyes unwilling to reveal with thoughts roamed through her mind. A moment later, she turned, fingers quickly finding the switch that turned off the digital piano that had been provided for her by the resort, then rose. She faced him once again, hands lacing together and resting in front of her.
DeVeau: I have a feeling that’s not the only reason you came by.
Taybrim: You are correct ::He smiled gently:: I know things have been somewhat odd between us from the feelings shared at the Gratitude festival to the telepathic contact. I wanted to see if I could understand your thoughts and feelings on the matter.
There was that gentle tone of the counselor paired with the Betazoid honesty that just came right out and cut to the chase.
Immediately, Alora stiffened at the mention of the Gratitude Festival. In some ways, she had a desire to simply forget about everything that had occurred, every thought or emotion that had been stirred by that concoction which had invaded her body and spurred them to life. On the other hand, Alora had found something she’d thought she’d lost, an ability she hadn’t expected to retain. Either way, she seemed to dwell in a strange mixed existence of uncertainty, guilt, and maybe even a hint of regret. Her footing had been compromised and she was afraid that if she attempted to make a step forward, she’d simply fall and there wouldn’t be a net to catch her. Her reticence spurred the Commodore to continue.
Taybrim: I understand how awkward things were under the influence of the tainted Spring wine. Though I hope you know that I do not hold anything against any crew who was affected during the festival. I, myself, was also affected.
She didn’t want to talk about it. Wasn’t sure how to talk about it. Even though she’d managed to speak to Ashley about it, Alora still couldn’t face the red haired man himself, and try as he might, the Counselor’s attempts to help her come to some sort of resolution had been fruitless. The demons had been fed and they continued to lurk in the shadows, using this as merely fodder for tormenting her. Turning, Alora crossed the room, her eyes breaking away from Sal, avoiding him, training themselves on a new goal, something to distract her.
DeVeau: Do you want something to drink?
He nodded gently, pulling back and giving her some time.
Taybrim: Sure. Orange cider if you would?
Alora, of course, was going to imbibe. After making the Commodore’s request, she ordered chocolate milk for herself, program 100, one of the top favourites. It was a go to when she felt like she needed a little something extra. She paused at his words, then reached out to take her glass, but she didn’t actually drink, and her back remained turned to him, her focus on the sweet drink that she’d requested but seemed only able to stare at.
DeVeau: I’m not sure what to say.
Taybrim: There is no ‘what’ to say. I have no expectations. Sometimes putting feelings you cannot explain into words is a journey and even if you never reach the destination the attempt is worthwhile.
That orange cider sat there, patiently waiting to be taken to the one who had asked for it. Like the man behind her, it offered no condemnation. Yet, Alora still winced, though she wasn’t sure why exactly. Sal Taybrim was, if nothing else, a kind man, so why did what he say sting? Or was she just done with his attempt at broaching the subject?
Taybrim: I accept that you may not be able to answer now, nor soon, nor even on any timeframe that you know. ::He stated openly.::
Maybe it was important that she was simply aware that he knew. That he was prompting her forward on that journey.
Alora inhaled and let out a heavy sigh, then finally reached out to curl her fingers around the glass. It was cool to the touch, and she could smell the citrus as she turned and carried it to the commodore. Finally passing it along, she motioned to the seating area of the room.
DeVeau: Feel free to sit down.
It felt odd, standing there like that. Stiff. Formal. Alora didn’t like it, even though she was taking a more formal stance in other ways. Choosing an armchair for herself, Alora lowered herself down and allowed herself a sip. Thick, chocolatey, oh so good, it slid down her throat, and, perhaps, offered a bit of courage.
DeVeau: Is that the only reason you came by?
Sal settled himself comfortably once asked and leaned forward, shaking his head gently.
Taybrim: No. There is never only one reason to come. There is a world of things we could talk about to understand one another better on so many levels.
For a second time, Alora lifted the glass, savouring the sweetness of her drink, though her eyes flicked up to peer at Sal from over the rim. She dared to turn the topic around, back to something else, something where she felt like she had more secure footing.
DeVeau: Perhaps you would be willing to fulfill the promise you made to me before we went to Qo’nos?
He nodded very slowly, having already considered this and knowing it was a possibility that they would delve into it.
Taybrim: Yes, I am willing.
The cup lowered and she rested the bottom upon her palm, then turned it slowly around and around. Circles. It was going in circles. Sometimes that was how she felt.
DeVeau: Perhaps now would be a good time?
It was true, he had no other plans. Though he was still hesitant no matter how open and honest he was. It bled through his tone.
Taybrim: I have no other plans, so if you wish.
The shifting of the glass, the circling of it in her palm ceased, and she took one last sip from it before setting it down upon the coffee table, then straightened. Her hands laced together and she met his gaze.
DeVeau: I do wish.
Taybrim: You already know I am loathe to cause pain to someone I care about if I can somehow prevent it.
Or an innocent, he was even hesitant to cause pain to a dire enemy and would only consider it as a last resort for the cruel, the corrupt and the criminal. But he was also aware that so many enemies were simply good people of another opinion - just like the Klingon high Council where, in the end, so many of them were actually on the same side, though it took much effort to convince them.
And yet, in that, he also admitted that the telepathic communication Vananth had offered him was painful. She had been terribly injured at the time and just desperate to share the information. It was not her fault.
But it had been a difficult pile of memories to sift through.
DeVeau: I know. But I am loath to leave someone I…
She paused. Dare she say it? Could she say it? What did it mean if she gave it a voice? Was there more to it than simply what the word itself meant? Alora finished it, but the pit of her stomach roiled with uncertainty.
DeVeau: Someone I care about with such a burden to bear alone.
Taybrim: The burden has shifted since we met Kelemkor.
His voice was soft, murmured and yet piercing. That particular connection still rang heavy on his mind.
There was a tilt of her head, a slight lifting of her chin. She didn’t have to ask what he meant - she knew. Alora had been witness to the battle, though she did not know the exact details, had only seen the physical manifestation of what raged between their minds. It didn’t matter. She would not be deterred. Alora rose and closed the distance between them and sat beside him upon the couch. Without a word, she held out her hands to him, her gaze unwavering as hers met his own.
Taybrim: I… ::He hesitated, protective, careful. Stinging words still rang in his ears.:: I will share with you what Ariwyn Vanath showed me.
He did not trust himself to share Kelemkor’s mind. Not yet. He hadn’t yet processed that fully.
Then with the utmost care he started to open his mind to the experience of telepathically connecting with Ambassador Vananth.
He was being careful, trying to limit what he sent to her rather than deluge everything all at once. Alora had been prepared, had a taste of what was to come, but even so, she could not stop the sharp intake of air as the sights and sounds assaulted her. Wavering a little, her hold upon him tightened, and her eyes closed, allowing her to shut off external visual stimuli in order to concentrate on what she was receiving. It helped some, allowing her to focus her energy on dealing with the hand she was being dealt - one that she had requested.
Taybrim: I’m sorry… ::He whispered, trying to stave the flood to as slow of a trickle as possible, but even with his Herculean efforts at control, the flood continued.::
Despite his attempts, what he was sharing was unfathomably horrible. Torture, pain, hatred, malice. It wasn’t just that, the emotions that were so contrary to what was so ingrained in Starfleet, so opposite to the desire to help others and seek out their well being, but the way it was presented, the cacophony of images and noise, scenes scattered and out of order, a fantastic and horrifying array of another’s thoughts, ripped from one mind, shared from Ambassador to Captain, now from Commodore to First officer. Alora gritted her teeth, her eyes squeezed ever more tightly, her hold strengthening.
Taybrim: ~Let me stop…~
It was a plea. With minds linked, he admitted her control locked with his was an open door, one he could not close without causing pain. He would not cause her pain, and he needed her implicit mental permission to stave off the flow without pain.
DeVeau: ~No.~
******
Commodore Sal Taybrim
Commanding Officer
StarBase 118 Ops
E239010ST0
&
--
Lt. Cmdr. Alora DeVeau
First Officer
Starbase 118 Ops
M239008AD0
~Julian Beck
E239010ST0