STO Writing
I took a little bit of a break, didn't I? The short of it is, I was starting to feel obligated to write up every story mission, and that was starting to feel like a chore. And when game time becomes a chore, something's up.
I've decided to only write when I get new ships, and when I feel inspired. Well, I feel inspired now.
Cost
Wayas stood in her quarters, staring into the mirror in her bathroom. The eyes that looked back at her were haunted, distant.
How many Romulans had died down there? At least 30 or 40. Plus the crew of those ships. Hundreds in total, most likely. Sure, she'd been following orders. Sure, she'd been doing it to save lives.
But what did all that mean when it turned out to be a lie?
The station was supposed to have been a staging ground for Romulan weapons research. Their attack was supposed to be a covert pre-emptive strike to destroy the weapons and prevent the loss of thousands or even millions of lives. They were supposed to go in fast and quiet, avoid being spotted, and... silence any witnesses. Because this mission, a preemptive, unprovoked strike, could easily have provided the Romulans an excuse to declare war on the Federation.
And the weapons were a lie. The only scientists there were the kind developing vaccines and medical technology.
They'd been used. Admiral Zelle, the one who came with them for the entire mission, the one who ordered them to use lethal force and leave no witnesses, was an Undine. It had used them to infiltrate the Romulans. And it was taking word of their raid straight to the empress herself. They'd be extremely lucky to avoid the Romulans declaring war - and if the Klingons and Romulans sided together, things were going to get bad, quickly.
All the logic in the world told her that none of it was her fault. Even their direct superior had been fooled. They had been following orders. They were acting in good faith.
All the logic in the world couldn't make the revulsion she felt looking in the mirror go away, and it couldn't wash away the images in her head of each and every Romulan's face.
"Computer, raktajino, extra strength." Even Rylia could tell her voice was slightly hoarse. But nonetheless, a beep acknowledged the command, and she could hear the replicator in her quarters fire up. She had no intention of sleeping tonight.
It was to her mild surprise that Wayas heard the door chime for a visitor. She wasn't sure she felt like talking; it was probably the doctor come to check up on her, or Sivak. But it might be something important, so she felt obligated to at least check. And at least she was dressed. "Who is it?" The voice that spoke up over the intercom surprised her. "Lieutenant T'Raal." She tilted her head. There was the last person she expected to come up to her quarters.
Out of sheer curiosity, Wayas replied, "Enter."
The Vulcan girl was in her usual duty uniform, but unlike usual, she didn't have a tricorder or a toolkit with her. The captain frowned faintly. "Is something the matter, T'Raal?" Her question was met with a slight nod of the head. "In a manner of speaking," the Vulcan replied. Wayas tilted her head. "In a manner of speaking?"
T'Raal nodded again, still remaining near the door. "We are concerned for your wellbeing," she stated simply. Wayas stared. "Well, I'm... I guess I'm touched, but I'm not used to seeing you of all people outside engineering much."
One of the lieutenant's eyebrows arched up. "Lieutenant Ampaak is using the holodeck to vent frustration, and ensigns Stassinos and Chmielowiec did not feel that they knew each other enough to engage in discourse. Lieutenant Sivak and I concluded that you would feel more openness towards a member of similar gender. Additionally, Sivak felt that you would not wish to be disturbed by him, but that my presence would be enough of an oddity to garner your attention."
In spite of herself, Wayas smiled. Sivak, you magnificent Vulcan bastard. You read me like a book. "Well, he got it right, on both counts. I'm sorry, T'Raal, but I don't really care for company right now." She rubbed the back of her head, a little embarassed. "It's my job to worry about my crew, not the other way around. Don't get yourselves worried over me, I'll be fine."
"Permission to speak freely, captain?"
Wayas arched an eyebrow herself. "Granted."
T'Raal tilted her head just slightly. "You do not look 'fine'. I understand that you do not desire company - but perhaps there is a difference between what you desire and what you need?"
Rylia couldn't help staring for a long few moments. Leave it to the most quiet girl on the ship, and a Vulcan at that, to be able to effectively shut her up. She was trying to come up with a polite way to say 'no, that's alright, right now I really want to be alone and wash my hands until they're raw', but the moment that thought flitted through her head, she realized her engineer was right.
She blew out a sigh of defeat. "...Yeah, you're right. Come on in. Have a seat, I'll get you some coffee." As Wayas headed over to the replicator, T'Raal made for the couch, and responded, "Thank you, captain." Something about the sentence bugged her. She looked over her shoulder. "Rylia. You can call me Rylia while you're here."
I've decided to only write when I get new ships, and when I feel inspired. Well, I feel inspired now.
Cost
Wayas stood in her quarters, staring into the mirror in her bathroom. The eyes that looked back at her were haunted, distant.
How many Romulans had died down there? At least 30 or 40. Plus the crew of those ships. Hundreds in total, most likely. Sure, she'd been following orders. Sure, she'd been doing it to save lives.
But what did all that mean when it turned out to be a lie?
The station was supposed to have been a staging ground for Romulan weapons research. Their attack was supposed to be a covert pre-emptive strike to destroy the weapons and prevent the loss of thousands or even millions of lives. They were supposed to go in fast and quiet, avoid being spotted, and... silence any witnesses. Because this mission, a preemptive, unprovoked strike, could easily have provided the Romulans an excuse to declare war on the Federation.
And the weapons were a lie. The only scientists there were the kind developing vaccines and medical technology.
They'd been used. Admiral Zelle, the one who came with them for the entire mission, the one who ordered them to use lethal force and leave no witnesses, was an Undine. It had used them to infiltrate the Romulans. And it was taking word of their raid straight to the empress herself. They'd be extremely lucky to avoid the Romulans declaring war - and if the Klingons and Romulans sided together, things were going to get bad, quickly.
All the logic in the world told her that none of it was her fault. Even their direct superior had been fooled. They had been following orders. They were acting in good faith.
All the logic in the world couldn't make the revulsion she felt looking in the mirror go away, and it couldn't wash away the images in her head of each and every Romulan's face.
"Computer, raktajino, extra strength." Even Rylia could tell her voice was slightly hoarse. But nonetheless, a beep acknowledged the command, and she could hear the replicator in her quarters fire up. She had no intention of sleeping tonight.
It was to her mild surprise that Wayas heard the door chime for a visitor. She wasn't sure she felt like talking; it was probably the doctor come to check up on her, or Sivak. But it might be something important, so she felt obligated to at least check. And at least she was dressed. "Who is it?" The voice that spoke up over the intercom surprised her. "Lieutenant T'Raal." She tilted her head. There was the last person she expected to come up to her quarters.
Out of sheer curiosity, Wayas replied, "Enter."
The Vulcan girl was in her usual duty uniform, but unlike usual, she didn't have a tricorder or a toolkit with her. The captain frowned faintly. "Is something the matter, T'Raal?" Her question was met with a slight nod of the head. "In a manner of speaking," the Vulcan replied. Wayas tilted her head. "In a manner of speaking?"
T'Raal nodded again, still remaining near the door. "We are concerned for your wellbeing," she stated simply. Wayas stared. "Well, I'm... I guess I'm touched, but I'm not used to seeing you of all people outside engineering much."
One of the lieutenant's eyebrows arched up. "Lieutenant Ampaak is using the holodeck to vent frustration, and ensigns Stassinos and Chmielowiec did not feel that they knew each other enough to engage in discourse. Lieutenant Sivak and I concluded that you would feel more openness towards a member of similar gender. Additionally, Sivak felt that you would not wish to be disturbed by him, but that my presence would be enough of an oddity to garner your attention."
In spite of herself, Wayas smiled. Sivak, you magnificent Vulcan bastard. You read me like a book. "Well, he got it right, on both counts. I'm sorry, T'Raal, but I don't really care for company right now." She rubbed the back of her head, a little embarassed. "It's my job to worry about my crew, not the other way around. Don't get yourselves worried over me, I'll be fine."
"Permission to speak freely, captain?"
Wayas arched an eyebrow herself. "Granted."
T'Raal tilted her head just slightly. "You do not look 'fine'. I understand that you do not desire company - but perhaps there is a difference between what you desire and what you need?"
Rylia couldn't help staring for a long few moments. Leave it to the most quiet girl on the ship, and a Vulcan at that, to be able to effectively shut her up. She was trying to come up with a polite way to say 'no, that's alright, right now I really want to be alone and wash my hands until they're raw', but the moment that thought flitted through her head, she realized her engineer was right.
She blew out a sigh of defeat. "...Yeah, you're right. Come on in. Have a seat, I'll get you some coffee." As Wayas headed over to the replicator, T'Raal made for the couch, and responded, "Thank you, captain." Something about the sentence bugged her. She looked over her shoulder. "Rylia. You can call me Rylia while you're here."