Interloper
Posted on Thu Jun 30th, 2022 @ 6:36pm by Lieutenant Commander T'an
Edited on on Thu Jun 30th, 2022 @ 6:41pm
Mission:
Prelude: The Gathering
Location: Deep Space Station Lambda-2; USS Proxima
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 1525
[Muster Station 44; Umbilical Port]
[Deep Space Station Lambda-2; USS Proxima]
[Day 1; 1525 Hours]
"Has anyone seen Travers? He's late."
Yeoman Bure's eerie orange eyes stood out from his leathery liliac skin and heavy brow. With a shrewdness of his hawk-like progenitors, the Betelgeusian studied his clutch- his gathering of support staff. It was a hodgepodge of operations yellow turtlenecks and the dark blue of the special service branch. His neck frill flushed, the skin about its edges seeming to tighten to show his displeasure. His lipless mouth below the hard curve of a keratinous, gray nose was a more familiar indicator of his mood to his primarily Human team.
"I'm sure he's coming sir," Yeoman Caecelia spoke up. "He was a little out of it last night." Her gathering of fiery red hair was bundled in a messy yet appealing mop atop her head. Her eyes were hazel, save for a vague darkening under them.
The Betelgeusian craned his neck in a way that his body seemed to follow him with, approaching his Yeoman. "A late night last night?" His head slightly ticked to the side.
Caecelia nodded at the beakish face and harsh, bird-like gaze. Bure was not intimidating when one got to know him, but he'd never compartmentalized some of his more scavenger-seeming Betelgeusian traits. It just took time to understand the man beneath the instinct. Caecelia agreed with a head bob. "The Pan Jianwei was late getting back to the station."
Bure understood that to be the transport from Lambda-2 to the closest system of Mikulak. Still, the Betelgeusian's beaky nose twitched, a renewed sense of urgency fluffing his neck frill when there was a crisp notification sound from the bulkhead panel: the light indicating the umbilical's connection had gone from red to green. The umbilical had been pressurized and oxygenated.
"Alright, we need to go without him," Bure smoldered on that. His shoulders flexed up and down like he was a perturbed avian ready to go airborne. "Caecelia and Jasper you will conduct a full inventory of the equipment lockers. Make sure they have oxygen masks, medical kits and emerging hull seal patches. Quinto, you and Zhival need to check the food and water rations, medical gear and oxygen supply for the escape pods down here. Dondry, you need to deliver the surplus ODCs and thermal gear to the computer control room."
Bure had pointed at each group- the two faces that fell were the Andorian's and her Human counterpart, affected by Travers' absence and feeling it. They had to investigate a lot of escape pods. They exchanged looks around a heavy flatbed of cargo pods and crates. Bure turned to tap on the green light...
[Minutes Ago]
Simon Travers stepped out of the sonic shower, rubbing his face. "Be right out. I'm late for my shift. The Pan Jianwei goes back to Mikulak in a few hours." There was a shadow presence that moved past his bathroom door but Simon was far more focused on finding a towel. He turned in the small space, eyeing the head, the small sink, the towel bar. "Damn."
"I'll be on it," a woman's voice said from the communal part of Travers' modest quarters.
"Can I see you again?" Travers muttered, reaching for the cubby above the head. He tapped it- the door dropped open and revealed itself bare.
"I'd like that," the woman's voice said again.
"Hey, Romeen? Look in the shelves above the uniform closest. Do you see any towels up there? The steward forgot to stalk up in here." Travers growled, "In fact looks like they haven't done anything in here." He shook his head.
There was no response.
"Romeen, did you hear me?" Travers twisted and looked into the dark of his quarters. His nakedness twisted. The brunette strolled into the room and peered at the bed. It was unmade but Romeen wasn't in it.
A hand clutched his throat, revealing a strong torso from the umbra of the dim room. "No towels," a woman's voice said. But the face was anything but femine: yellow eyes, dark brown skin that seemed glossy with sweat. A scar on his cheek and over his eye. He smiled, baring teeth as the being's skin began to change to the ruddy, tanned tones that Travers had.
As horror grew on Travers' face, there was a hiss. And the new yellow-eyed Travers' smirked. Travers fell like a cord of wood. The yellow eyes rose and studied the end of a hypospray. "Night. Thanks for a lovely evening." Travers muttered cooly at his true form self. He sighed, dragged Travers' naked body into the bathroom, and then locked the door.
[Present]
"I'm here, I'm here," Travers announced just as Bure pushed the keys. The umbilical's doors hissed open with a harsh sound, exposing the long, collapsing walkway and dynamic tube. On the far end was the light-gray of the Proxima's outer hull hatch. "Sorry. I overslept."
Bure's eyes narrowed but he looked away. "Fine, fine. Don't let it happen again. Travers, you're with Quinto and Zhival. Escape pod prep and check. Let's go." The Betelgeusian gestured for the supply train to follow him, and he led into the umbilical. Travers sidled up next to the Andorian, Zhival, and a Latino man.
"Jeez, you look like hell," Quinto said in a rich accent.
Travers smirked to himself, his gaze forward as they went into motion, "Yeah I don't really feel like myself today." The cart of supplies sung on its anti-gravity cushion and followed.
