Naive Grace

Posted on Sep 14, 2014 @ 7:48pm by Lieutenant Commander Aerdan Jos
Edited on on Sep 14, 2014 @ 7:48pm

Mission: Absolute Power

"Naive Grace" (Continued from "Repairs of the Heart")

~*~

Location: Northern Maine
Stardate: 2.140907.2320
Scene: Veranda of a private Bed and Breakfast
Time Index: two days before the end of the board of inquiry

~*~

“Dare to be naive.”
~R. Buckminster Fuller
~*~

Cade Foster stretched out like a cat that had eaten an entire shipment of petstore mice in one sitting. His naked legs languidly draped over the arms of the comfortable antique couch adorning the small veranda, shaded into privacy but a copse of trees. Not that he required privacy, persay. Cade would argue that a man lounging in his boxer shorts was perfectly normal and natural and nothing to be ashamed of at all.

“Get your filthy, hairy legs off my couch.” Ah, the dulcet loving tones of Phia rang out through the still morning air.

“You didn’t think they were so bad last night.” Cade called back in a sing song tone.

“Last night I was drunk.” The Bolian hybrid sassed back.

“You should be drunk now.” Cade offered helpfully.

She stepped out of the sliding double doors that separated the apartment from the porch and shot Cade a look so cold that it could have frozen the nose hairs off an Andorian. “It should be telling, Mr. Foster, that it requires copious amounts of alcohol to stomach you.”

Cade shrugged, unaffected. “And yet it keeps happening. And I am totally ok with that.”

“You would be. Get dressed. We leave in 20.”

Foster sighed, slowly dragging himself to his feet. Of all the options the day brought, he would have much rather chose the ‘lounging around in my underwear, trying to cajole the world’s bitchiest counselor to have sex with me’ option rather than the ‘get dressed, look decent and go check on wayward patients’ option.

Still, a job was a job and he had one to finish. He drained the last of the coffee out of his mug, tossed it into the recycler on the way inside to complete his well honed ‘Triple-S’ routine: shit, shower and shave. He donned his uniform with five minutes to spare, leaving him just enough time to comb his thinning hair and toss another insult at Phia. “You sure you’re not just coming along to admire my ass?”

Phia nearly choked on her juice. “Please. Don’t make me laugh. Your ass is hardly worth the time it takes to blink at it. And you know full well that Bomba is the last loose end. And if my suspicions are right, it will be worthwhile checking up on him.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Cade waved his hand, it was his way of saying he agreed with her without actually agreeing with her. “Let’s go.”

~*~

Location: Chateau de Chaumont, France
Scene: Gardens

A light breeze rustled through a vast field of vibrant lilac flowers, sending a euphoric sweet scent into the air. The giggle of young lovers mingled with the songs of birds to crown the whole pastoral scene with a glimmer of the idyllic.

Arjan Jos stretched out, his own blue skin complementing the fields of flowers nicely. He almost looked like an installation rather than a tourist as he closed his eyes and soaked up the rising morning sunlight.

It was hard for him to describe how much he needed this. This simplicity, the silence from the insanity. The past mission had struck him in the gut, the sort of radiating pain one gets when one is forced into an uncomfortable situation and cannot cope. From the attack on his brother, his rage-fueled decision to murder the attacker in something that was officially deemed self defense (but certainly didn’t feel like it), to his struggles with his own cowardice – especially when his crew deemed him heroic for murdering a psychopath – all of it had pushed him to a level of stress he had never before dealt with. On top of that Harcourt’s murder, the vicious attack against O’Malley and the away team, the attack on the ARMSTRONG and witnessing his baby brother come a hair’s breadth away from getting horribly killed… twice! It was enough to shatter the cool, collected Andorian neurosurgeon’s devil-may-care demeanor and rock him to the core.

Sef Yelena has been an angel. In fact he had grown closer to her over these past few scant weeks than he had in the past two years. It was as if he was somehow maturing to a level that she respected. Still, after all was said and done it was a rocky ride, and they both needed some down time. Silent. Relaxing. Alone.

Arjan had spent the morning walking around village surrounding the palace and gardens. Sampling local cuisine, taking in the sights and chatting with lovely young women who seemed to be there to cater to tourists like himself. Not that it was hard to figure out who wasn’t local in his case. ‘Gee, look at the blue man walking around the French countryside. I guess someone is on vacation…’

He had stopped at a sweet shop, just before entering the gardens, intent on bringing back a sampling of chocolates for Yelena. But he found himself gazing at a fanciful display of lollypops, all arranged in a vast colored mural on the back wall. Swirls of color representing nearly every flavor in the galaxy: raspberry crème, amaretto, Sundarian orange, jumja, licorice, Risian bittersweet, toffa, lemon… a myriad of choices. He found himself selecting a few of the best without even thinking. Pocketing them as he carried the chocolate box nestled in his arm.

Now, as the sun started to rise towards noon, he found himself in that happy span where one is relaxed enough to wonder if they are actually awake or not. For the first time in many long days, Arjan felt like life was a pleasant, honeyed dream. He stretched and rose, plucking his chocolate box from the shady space he had kept them in and started to stroll.

It would be kind of fate to simply leave a person be on a relaxing day like this. But fate is a fickle mistress. One that enjoys playing cruel tricks and tweaking heartstrings in odd ways…

As Dr. Jos walked, his antennae twittered upwards, listening to the heavy sigh of someone else walking among the maze-like paths of brilliant color. The sort of sigh that said someone else was here to unburned their mind of some terrible troubles, if only for a short while. He empathized with that sigh. Empathized all too well. Usually empathy might be enough, that silent solidarity of ‘I know, I been there too.’ But keen Andorian hearing was a blessing and a curse.

He knew that sigh. It was familiar to his core.

“Sedna?” He perked his head above a pathway, antennae twittering.

She jerked around as if she was about to be shot. Evangeline Montoya had not heard that name – in such a soft tone – in quite some time. Eyes wide, she struggled to recover. “Holy shit, is it actually you?”

Arjan smiled. It was a ghost of his lazy, cocky grin. Skirting around a bush of bloated sweet pink blossoms, he stepped out to face her fully. Yes, there he was, alive and in the flesh.

This wasn’t the most unusual thing in the world, if former experience was taken into consideration. Arjan Jos and Evangeline Montoya had met quite a long time ago. They had met under the starry sky, and had mutually decided that hanging around one another for the summer they were stationed together would be great fun. And it was. It was the honest sort of youthful romance where one does everything in the moment, without regret. When they parted, they had known they were parting from the moment they met. It was bittersweet, wishing one another well. No jealousy, no anger. Just a promise to keep in touch.

The funny thing was they kept bumping into one another. A conference on Risa. A vacation on Meredia. A short mission on Andalusia. They were both posting on the PENDRAGON together for a short time.

And now here they were again.

“Yeah, it’s actually me.” He bobbed his head a little, feeling vaguely foolish. Then again it wasn’t such a bad question, either. Montoya had gone MIA after a dangerous mission and the whole bloody PENDRAGON had up and disappeared. This chance encounter was, in fact, incredibly unlikey. And yet it happened.

She offered a light smile, and looked behind her shoulder. “Hey there, you.”

“Hey there, you.” An easy, familiar tone, he furrowed his brows in a slight concern. “Are you ok?”

Sedna shrugged a little. “Been through some things. Don’t worry about it.”

Empathy bled through his face. “Did you want to talk?”

She shook her head a little too fast. “Sorry, no. Gotta take a raincheck.” The voice was strained, with an undercurrent of ‘yes, yes I would love to talk but the answer had to be no, just trust me on this.’

“Ah…” Arjan trailed off, antennae curling forward in a tight curve. He struggled to keep his expression neutral, but he was reading far too much tension in her to stave off worry. “With someone?”

“You might say.” She nodded, looking up and catching his gaze for a moment. “Maybe later?”

The neurosurgeon nodded. “Yeah. I’m around. At least for a while…”

“Got any lollipops?” She asked, a shadow of her old self passing across her face.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t usually…” He felt in his pocket. “Wait a second… I do.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah.” A nod. “Hasperat, Limoncello, Amaretto, Toffa…”

“Toffa is my favorite.” She murmured.

“I know.” He plucked it out and offered it towards her.

Evangeline reached out, wrapping her hand around the lollypop like a drowning person reached for a life vest. There is was, a small glimmer of when life was sane, before all this shit happened. “That’ll do.” Her usual response came to her lips without thinking.

Taking it, she took a step back and looked up. “Thank you.” She whispered, before turning around the leave.

“Don’t forget, you owe me a drink…” Arjan called, compassion for a lost friend welling up into his eyes.

“Got it!” Sedna managed a smile, tears threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes before she dashed away.

Arjan felt his breath catch in his throat. Something was wrong, and yet everything about her posture as she left screamed ‘do not follow me.’

He stood there for several long minutes, until a happy couple jolted him out of his own mind with a politely called ‘excuse us!’ Arjan found himself walking back towards the village in a daze, wondering exactly what he should do. Follow her, when she obviously did not want to be followed? He was worried about her, for some dumb reason. That old friend that you don’t really know everything about and yet you care about…

Arjan sighed. When did life become so complicated?

~*~

Location: Johns Hopkins Clinic for the Mentally Ill
Scene: Observation Ward 6

Storm Bomba smiled back at them through a carefully control cocktail of psycho-reactive drugs. “Oh, everyone is so very nice here…”

“I’m sure.” Phia intoned. She had gotten in with papers saying that she was the counselor from the ARMSTRONG, and that Cade was a relation of Bomba’s. She didn’t want them knowing that he was actually here to conduct his own medical scans. “Do a lot of people come in here?”

Not that she had anything against the civilian medical service working at this hospital. But a little paranoia kept people alive, and the information she had gleaned from a copious amount of research said that Bomba was being targeted. She had expressly chosen to put him in a civilian hospital upon their return and his subsequent nervous breakdown to keep him farther away from the Essentialists reach. But there was still a heavy traffic of doctors through this facility, and while she trusted Dr. Corbin, the head of Bomba’s treatment, she did not trust every person on his staff, especially the ones that were not tenured here.

“Oh, I see a lot of very nice nurses. They smile a lot and we sometimes go for walks in the garden.” Bomba asserted hazily, his smile still pasted on.

Cade was silent for the time being, standing behind Bomba while Phia kept his attention, absorbed in his medical scans. He had gotten his hands on the treatment plan, and quite honestly he didn’t have many quibbles with it. Oh, sure he would tweak a few dosages, but Doc Corbin was renowned in his study of mental illnesses. Cade had gotten to dine with him at a few medical conferences and found the man capable of holding his own in a debate. Which was a mark in his favor. Foster had always found Corbin a bit too ‘normal’ for his taste in friends – his wife was an elementary school teacher, he had two kids, a golden retriever, went jogging on the weekends and liked the curious American sport of ‘Football’ which was a stupid name for a sport where they rarely put a foot on said ball. Still, he was good at his job and that’s what mattered.

So Cade was absorbed in trying to figure out where the treatments were not going to plan. It was obvious from the second they walked in that Bomba was over medicated, and from what he was reading in Corbin’s notes he could find no orders to have him this heavily tranquilized.

“Are there any who are new?” Phia asked, sitting down beside Storm.

The Risian bobbed his head. “Oh yes. Mr. Sanchez is new. He’s very concerned about my health.”

“Sanchez. Right.” Phia noted it. “Anybody else?”

Storm shook his head. “No. I wish Miss Trudy would come by more often, but she’s only an intern. She’s oh so nice.”

“I bet she is.” Phia looked up, catching Cade’s gaze as he flagged her. “I’ll be right back, Storm. You sit tight, ok?”

“Ok!” Bomba replied happily, going back to playing with the puzzle laid out in front of him.

“What did you find?” Phia murmured to Cade as she dragged him to the back of the room.

“All medications he is being given are to plan. However there is a problem. He’s being dosed with a much higher dosage of viranthalin than recommended.” Cade murmured back.

“How much higher?”

“About thirty times the recommended dose.”

Phia whistled. “So it’s not incompetence, it’s intentional.”

“Almost certainly.” The older man nodded. “And it’s sneaky. Viranthalin processes through the body in a 48 hour cycle, so if he’s being tested, they could stop dosing him and it wouldn’t show up on a scan unless a full blood chemistry analysis is done.”

“Ok.” Phia grimaced. “Million credit question: what would it do to him if it remains at this high of a dosage?”

“In small amounts it regulates brain chemistry. In an overdose state like this, it’s driving him down a short track to a major stroke.” Cade replied.

“How short?”

“Months, possibly weeks.”

“Vicious, clever murder that’s hard to track. Sounds like everybody’s favorite shadow group.” The Bolian Hybrid frowned deeply. “You know what this means?”

Cade knitted his brows. “He’s in big trouble?”

“And?”

“Well, I suppose we could just walk away.”

Phia cuffed him lightly on the arm. And people said she was a monster. “Try again, asshole.”

Cade sighed. “I can contact Corbin and discuss this with him in private, but if we make too big of a stink, we could draw a lot of unwanted attention to ourselves and this clinic.”

“Exactly.” Phia folded her arms in front of her chest. She didn’t like the options, but she had a perfectly viable solution in mind. “So we’re going to pull him out of the clinic.”

“And where will he stay?”

“In the guest bedroom. And you can be his attending physician.”

“Great.” Cade rolled his eyes. “You owe me for this one.”

“Fine. Drinks tonight and I’ll wear that short dress you like, but after that you can piss off, you’re on doctor duty and I have shit to finish.” She hissed.

“You’re so sexy when you’re angry…” he teased.

“Fuck off, Cade.” She muttered, coming back to Bomba. “Storm, how would you like to come with us for a vacation?”

“Vacation? I like vacations!” He giggled happily.

“Great. I’ll have my friend talk to Dr. Corbin, but we’re going to get you packed up. You can come stay with us for a little while.” Phia worked hard to make her voice sound happy, even if her expression was not. It didn’t matter much, with the chemical cocktail Bomba was on, he seemed to think everything was peachy.

“Sounds great!” He clapped. “I’ll get ready right away.”

Phia looked up at Cade. “As soon as we get him home, he’s all yours.”

“Thanks, love.” Foster returned, with a weary sigh.

~*~

Jamie LeBlanc
Lt. Commander Aerdan Jos
In between assignments
In between ships

Plus a lot of random NPCs

"Why do we fly? Because we have dreamt of it for so long that we must"


~Julian Beck