Lessons reaction
Sariel doesn't know Nella Daren as anyone but a superior officer.
The older woman isn't Nella to her, not even mentally. To her, she's Commander Daren,head of stellar sciences, a decade or more Sariel's senior and wearing competence and experience like a second skin. Stellar sciences isn't Sariel's department, never mind how useful their information often proves at the helm; she doesn't interact with Commander Daren beyond quiet nods in the corridors, exchanged greetings in the turbolifts. All the same, Sariel can't help respecting the other woman.
She works out, somewhere around their initial orbit of Bersallis III, that it's the scientist's particular mix of professionalism and offbeat grace that's won her over so quickly. That, and the close-held flutter of curiosity that she'll never indulge - certainly not with someone ranked so far above her - to know if speaking Kweyol in front of Daren won't get her an answer back in Quebecois. Sariel likes what she knows of Nella Daren, vastly different though their personalities are.
And then Bersallis III hits them from all sides, rains fire and risks lives,
two eyes on the sky
and suddenly, stellar sciences is looming large where it didn't hours before. Daren's got her work cut out for her, cut from cloth that scorches,
one eye on the sky
and Sariel can't do a thing to help. Steady hands or no, it's not pilots they need in this particular situation. So she waits.
So does everyone else.
Sariel's not sure which rattles her more; when she believes Commander Daren has died in the line of duty, or when she finds out she's wrong. The first is understandable, training or no training, and the second is a pleasant shock to be sure, but the fact remains that both realities shake Sariel more than a little. She knows plenty about fighting and bleeding and dying, in the line of duty or otherwise, knows people who've done all three,
Lieutenant Hagler
but a near-death experience, anyone's near-death experience, is bound to get her thinking about the subject. and a few other subjects besides. Would she be that brave? Will she, if the need arises?
And was she?
She finds herself hoping, praying, not for anything even close to the first time, that the answer is yes to all three questions.
As for the other reality, the true reality--well. Sariel knows about coming back from the brink, too.
Sariel keeps the fine thread of connection she feels to Nella Daren to herself, even before the other woman transfers away. Their situations were, are, vastly different, but all the same: Daren's just the tiniest bit like her. And between the similarity, the lingering respect for the commander that doesn't fade with time, and Daren's visible dedication to her work...
Other people might forget Nella Daren.
Sariel doesn't.
The older woman isn't Nella to her, not even mentally. To her, she's Commander Daren,head of stellar sciences, a decade or more Sariel's senior and wearing competence and experience like a second skin. Stellar sciences isn't Sariel's department, never mind how useful their information often proves at the helm; she doesn't interact with Commander Daren beyond quiet nods in the corridors, exchanged greetings in the turbolifts. All the same, Sariel can't help respecting the other woman.
She works out, somewhere around their initial orbit of Bersallis III, that it's the scientist's particular mix of professionalism and offbeat grace that's won her over so quickly. That, and the close-held flutter of curiosity that she'll never indulge - certainly not with someone ranked so far above her - to know if speaking Kweyol in front of Daren won't get her an answer back in Quebecois. Sariel likes what she knows of Nella Daren, vastly different though their personalities are.
And then Bersallis III hits them from all sides, rains fire and risks lives,
two eyes on the sky
and suddenly, stellar sciences is looming large where it didn't hours before. Daren's got her work cut out for her, cut from cloth that scorches,
one eye on the sky
and Sariel can't do a thing to help. Steady hands or no, it's not pilots they need in this particular situation. So she waits.
So does everyone else.
Sariel's not sure which rattles her more; when she believes Commander Daren has died in the line of duty, or when she finds out she's wrong. The first is understandable, training or no training, and the second is a pleasant shock to be sure, but the fact remains that both realities shake Sariel more than a little. She knows plenty about fighting and bleeding and dying, in the line of duty or otherwise, knows people who've done all three,
Lieutenant Hagler
but a near-death experience, anyone's near-death experience, is bound to get her thinking about the subject. and a few other subjects besides. Would she be that brave? Will she, if the need arises?
And was she?
She finds herself hoping, praying, not for anything even close to the first time, that the answer is yes to all three questions.
As for the other reality, the true reality--well. Sariel knows about coming back from the brink, too.
Sariel keeps the fine thread of connection she feels to Nella Daren to herself, even before the other woman transfers away. Their situations were, are, vastly different, but all the same: Daren's just the tiniest bit like her. And between the similarity, the lingering respect for the commander that doesn't fade with time, and Daren's visible dedication to her work...
Other people might forget Nella Daren.
Sariel doesn't.