The Grass is not Always Greener

Posted on Thu Oct 1st, 2020 @ 6:58pm by Mal Garrison & Lianej Derani

Mission: SEASON 4: Episode 1: Know Thy Self!
Location: SS Serpents Tooth
Timeline: MD 01
997 words - 2 OF Standard Post Measure

[ON]

"Mayday, mayday. This is the Federation Starship USS Elysium, transmitting a general distress signal. Our ship has been seized and boarded by the Terran Empire, and our crew is being tortured and enslaved. This is Lieutenant Commander Jessica Vaii. We're requesting reinforcements from Starfleet Command. And if anyone out there hates these Terrans as much as we do, we need your help. Goddesses, don't make me beg. Setting Message to Repeat. Mayday, mayday...

Lianej Derani sat in the captains chair of the Serpent's Tooth and listened to the voice they had picked up. It was on an old channel and it was sheer luck they'd picked it up on their race to Arena Station. Her bridge officers were listening too. Mal, her QuarterMaster, and Tserek, her Chief Gunner, were both grinning.

"These new comers are fighters," The nausicaan said approvingly. "The Elysium's going to get a nasty shock."

"Call Mishka, make sure she's picked this up and has co-ordinates. She looked to her helmsman, "Time to Arena Station"

"Forty eight hours at top speed."

Lianej frowned. They needed an engine upgrade. Maybe bagging Lady Penelope wasn't as crazy an idea after all. "What can we guess about this Vaii?" She looked at Mal, wondering if their Vaii was one of his innumerable conquests.

"Couldn't say." He shrugged. "Ours used to be a good pilot, but from what I heard, she spent too long in an agony booth after cheeking her captain. She's utterly cracked. Completely insane. If her double followed a similar path? A daring pilot I'd say. She might even be as crazy as you." He smiled at her. "Though I doubt there's a pilot in any universe who's more of a nutter at helm than you are."

"Maybe not. And daring or not, she's certainly desperate. They could quite easily pinpoint that transmission and have them all in agony booths by now." Lianej shook her head. The barbarity of Terrans was only mitigated by the fact they were just as vicious to each other as they were to non terrans. Equal Opportunity sadists.

Mal's bright blue eyes darkened and flickered away, and Lianej knew he was back in that dark room where his own father had carved him up to get resistance secrets out of him. She put her hand over his.

"We should send them a message, let them know they're not alone." he said.

"We can't," Lianej said, "You know that. Can't give them any hint we're there until we're blowing torpedos up their arse."

"I know." He raised her fingers to his lips, and kissed their tips. "I just wish there was more we could do."

"We're already doing everything. Garrett is calling his contacts, we've called ours. Whatever help is coming will get here soon. All we can do is hit them hard, and steal back whoever we can."

"If Mishka is right about these people, then they're innocent as babes. Even our children will be better prepared than they are. Even with a fighting spirit, three days is a long time to last on Arena. They may be more broken than not."

Lianej stood up. "Brooding won't help," she chided softly. "Its late now. Come to bed. I'll take your mind off it for a bit."


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After, they lay together in her bed, sheets pulled up around them, Malcolm curled up against her, head pillowed on her chest. He was listening to her heart beat. She had her arms wrapped around him, feeling his warmth against his skin. "What are you thinking?" She asked him.

Mal glanced up at her, "Wondering what my counterpart is like in that opposite world. If Mishka's right, and they're all righteous."

"You're probably an outstanding officer, well liked, high ranking. Probably a girl in every port." She teased

Mal laughed, "That doesn't sound like me at all. So its probably spot on." He was quiet for a moment. "You're probably still in the Cort Merchant Navy, slowly rotting on boring cargo hauls."

Lianej gave a mock shudder. "Never thought I'd be glad to be here."

"We've probably never met." He realised. "If I'm a dutiful son of Starfleet. When would we cross paths? To have never known you..."

She kissed the top of his head. "Don't think of that. Think of the rest. If its a better world, then you never got tortured. Your father loved you. Your mother cherished you. You've probably got medals and your own command."

"If we're playing that game, then you had several fat babies who all grew up into sailors and are probably now in a race to make you a grandmother. You probably knit booties for them."

Lianej hugged him close. Children would have been nice. But not in her life. A ship like hers was no place to raise a baby. And who could bring a child into this hellscape of a reality in good conscience? "Absolutely. I'm probably one of those nightmare women who keep asking their children when they're going to get married. Be grateful you're on your ship, mr po-faced Starfleet officer. I could be your mother in law."

Malcolm laughed and shuddered at the same time. "I guess the grass isn't always greener. Better the devil you know."

"Always," she agreed. "But its kind of nice," she shifted so she could settle down to sleep. "Knowing that somewhere out there, our lives are peaceful and all our dreams come true."

"Yeah." Malcolm kissed her, then squirmed around so that he was big spoon. "It sounds like a dream. Happy endings for everyone."

"I'm not worried about everyone, just us." Lianej said, lacing her fingers into his as he wrapped a muscular arm around her. "This is as good as this world gets," she decided. "I've already got my happy ending." And in case he missed the subtext, she pulled him in until there wasn't a scrap of space between them, and fell asleep in his arms.

[OFF]