From: rneces@mastnet.net (Lynnaea AelCaymarth ) Date: Fri, 2 May 1997 17:09:48 -0500 (CDT) Subject: USS CHESAPEAKE: Pandora's Box
SD 90502.2100 GMT
MD 6.1630
Scene: CSO's Office
____________________
> When the door closed behind him he sat down on the chair behind
>the desk, put his feet up and waited. For about half a minute, before his
>curiousity won and he started looking through her desk.
>
> First it was just looking, without touching. He just wanted to
>see what she had in her drawers. Then it was picking up and looking.
>Then it was picking up and opening and looking *into* things. Then the
>door opened and she strode in.
>
> "I heard you wanted to talk to me - WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING
>???"
>
> Oz jumped up guiltily, still holding an open box, and stared at
>her. "Hi- I'm O'Graeach, the FCO. I - it just fell into my hand, honest
>! I - can I invite you to a drink ?", he stammered. Clarissa wasn't
>actually forgotten, but it wasn't as if they were having a proper
>relationship yet, and this woman was really quite beautiful.
Before O'Graeach had time to blink, Keyrin had vaulted over her desk
and slammed him against the wall, pinning him there. There was a lightning
flash, and then Ozwald felt the cool prick of laser-honed durasteel. Her
face was inches from his, the eyes snapping with an outraged fire, but her
voice was as cold as the steel she was fully prepared to use.
*Why won't women be nice to me???!!!* Oz wailed somewhere deep
within his frightened mind.
*WHY WON'T PEOPLE LEAVE ME ALONE?!?!?!?!?* Aelyria fumed to herself.
"Suppose you tell me why you were prowling through my office?" she
said softly.
"I... uh... I was admiring the fine art!"
"There is no art in here."
"I'm afraid you're quite mistaken. You're a masterpiece -- ughfff!"
The air rapidly left his lungs as he skidded across the floor.
The FCO now resorted to the only tactic left to him -- abject
pleading. "Please don't kill me!" he begged, sobbing hysterically.
She eyed him critically. *What an ineffectual wuss. He'd be almost
cute if he didn't have such an annoying whine.*
She slammed the knife into the carpet a quarter of an inch from his
ear, and the ring of metal against the hard floor echoed through the room.
"I really should just castrate you and get you out of my way." Her boot
nudged his ribs.
Okay. So abject pleading wasn't working. Charm hadn't worked very
well either. That left the truth, which hurt more often than not, and,
well, Ozwald just wasn't very good with the truth.
But ... Clarissa popped back into his mind. She had prettier hair,
and wasn't so tall and imposing as the CSO -- which O'Graeach liked - so he
had to ask for the transfer. How else was he going to get the time to get
her in his -- err.... holodeck?
"Can Clarissa Darling get a transfer?"
Aelyria's eyes went blank. "What?"
"She wants a transfer. To the Nav department."
"But she's my best combat pilot!" *No way in hell... *
"She _is_ a pilot, isn't she?"
"Yes, but she has specific fighter training. She's not meant to be
a civilian ferry."
"Pllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssssssee
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!"
With every passing second, the whine grated louder and louder in
Aelyria's ears. "ALLRIGHT!" she shouted, unable to stand the acoustic
vibrations in her skull that the nasal cry elicited. "Get her out of here,
and don't bother to come back! Ever!"
With that, Aelyria forcibly hauled the FCO up by the back of his
uniform pants, laying another rough hand to his collar.
*Oh, god, not again...* he thought...
She gave a preparatory swing backwards to gain the proper momentum
before tossing him forward into the air --
-- and out the door.
O'Graeach landed ungently on unforgiving floor as the door to the
CSO's office whirred shut behind him.
* * * * *
With a relieved sigh, Aelyria turned around to face her office once
more. Her temper was beginning to dissipate, somewhat...
... She spied the box O'Graeach had held in his hand. It had
spilled to the floor when she had thrown him across the room, but she had
been too preoccupied to notice.
A stricken expression etched into her features, she knelt by the
shattered remains of the box.
It had once been made of finely carved wood, burnished to an auburn
glow with loving hands. Birds, unleashed in their flights of freedom and
fancy, flitted across the lid and sides. Now, it lay splintered before her,
its contents spilt like the yolk of an egg.
Unmindful of the sharp slivers which drew vermillion beads of blood
from her alabaster skin, her slender fingers picked among the wreckage.
A photograph, of her and her father. So old... it was a quaint
thing, referred to as a "Polaroid" back on Terra. A traveling merchantman
peddling cheap wares had offered them at a carnival, and she, a lively,
innocent girl of four, had begged for it.
The black eyes of youth glimmered out at her, piercing her with
their innocence, their potential, their unbridled ability to love and to
trust. Her father's strong, protective arms were wrapped around her,
enshrouding her with love, and the smile on his face spoke of adoration for
his youngest.
But the protection, the happiness, the love and the trust, had all
been shattered on that day not so long ago... and the strong, able man she
had known had been struck down by forces beyond his control.
There were other reminders of her past, there, in that shattered
Pandora's box. Academic award medals, merit medals from her pilot's
training courses, old scraps of paper with hastily scribbled farewell notes
and addresses from graduation. Somehow, she had forgotten them, left
everything she had known for what she wanted to discover.
And now, there was nothing left of the past to go back to. Theresa
had grown distant, and her mother and her were shadows of a family. Her
father was a bright excruciating memory, locked in a single photograph from
a time that seemed to never have existed, but that she remembered so well.
As she gazed blankly at the polaroid, lost in thought, translucent
pearls dropped upon it, staining it, blotting out the image of the past with
the white chemical reaction of the present's pain. She watched as the
photograph disappeared, blanked out by tears that she couldn't recognize as
her own.
She sat there for a while, shoulders shaking with the force of quiet
sobs, surrounded by the old memories and the remains of a wooden box.
Respectfully submitted,
Lynnaea AelCaymarth
Ensign Aelyria Keyrin, CSO
NRPG:
Jeez... I think all this English literary analysis of symbolism is really
starting to influence me... *big grin*
I realize there's a large amount of unaccounted for time between my last
post and this... there will be a backpost. I'm skipping ahead because: a.
Such a brilliant tempting opportunity from our dear Fabian couldn't be
resisted that long, and b. I got inspired. ;) Carpe diem, when it comes
to posting.
Fabian: Hope I got Oz right... or sort of right...
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