Refrain

Posted on Oct 22, 2017 @ 11:28pm by Lieutenant Eve Dalziel
Edited on on Oct 22, 2017 @ 11:47pm

Mission: Fear Itself

“Refrain”
(Continued from “The Way Lovers Do”)

=/\=

Location: USS PHOENIX
SD: [2.17]1022.0200
Scene: The Vulgar Tribble

It was late. Iphie’s party was still going on. The crowd had thinned somewhat, but what might have lacked in quantity of guests more than made up for their robust hanging-on to the plentiful food and drink the talented Chef had purveyed for them. The experts had now been separated from the amateurs.

Eve took another sip of spice-infused fortified wine, standing in the far end of the room, letting the view outside entertain her. Instead of the foreign panorama of Romulan space, Starbase 56 now loomed large, occupying the dark curtain of stars surrounding them. It was comforting; despite the fact that they were still near the edge of the Neutral Zone, they were on the side that was home. And for now, that was good enough.

“Fer all the bitchin’ I did over not wearin’ no dress, you didn’t say you weren’t neither.”

“You didn’t ask,” Eve replied with a sly look. “Besides, I’m not exactly the frock and frill type.” She had chosen a draped, one-armed jumpsuit with a slightly flared leg in a deep plum color. Her utilitarian ponytail had gotten an upgrade, now pulled up higher on her head and wrapped at the base with a small piece of braided hair. The only accessory was a gold knotted belt. While she always wore an imperceptible amount of makeup to bring the illusion of a human flush to her pallid skin, she’d been a bit more deliberate this evening, emphasizing her lips with a gloss matching the hue of her outfit. “I’m not in a cabaret show, I’m a Starfleet Officer.”

Kassandra and Eve weren’t a likely pair. The Major was brash, headstrong, and no-nonsense. Eve tended to hang back, thinking, weighing her decision to get caught up in the fray, but once she did, there was no stopping her. For all their differences, they shared the need to be completely honest and the enjoyment of a good stiff drink. There was a plentiful supply of both this evening.

Kass chuckled. “No sequence? No lace? None of that itchy stuff that makes the skirt stand out like you should be a fuckin’ ballerina?”

“Tulle? They make crinolines and tutus out of it?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Eve smiled. It had been much too long since they talked. “No tulle. *Maybe* sequins... if the sequins were black. But absolutely no lace. I’d feel like a tablecloth. One of the main things I remember about my Intel days was that it was always about stealth. The idea was to blend in, not be noticed.”

“Hate to break it to ya, Woo Woo, but even in pants, you kinda stand out.”

“Thanks a lot, Tannenbaum,” Eve deadpanned, kidding around.

“Aint’ nuthin’ secret round here,” Kass griped at the mention of Jake’s label for her.

“A ship resembles a hive mind in some ways... the free movement of information being first and foremost among them.”

“Ya mean gossip.”

“Call it what you want. While I’m certain 99 percent of that is confidential, I’d say nicknames, in my professional opinion, are fair game.”

“Professional opinion my ass.” Kass laughed louder this time.

“Hey- I don’t tell you how to be a Marine.”

“Which continues to be a smart decision on yer part.” Kass noticed that while Eve had been actively chatting, she hadn’t given the copper-haired woman her full attention. “What’cha thinkin’ bout?”

“I’m not really feeling all this tonight,” Eve said, gesturing towards the transformation of the Tribble into a Roman version of Eden. “I’m frustrated.”

“Heh. Drinkin’s supposta make you less frustrated, not more. What gives?”

“I appreciate the trouble that Iphie’s going to for a theme. It’s just… what exactly are we celebrating?”

“Earth didn’t blow up? That good enough?” Kass nudged Eve’s arm.

“Yes, okay, that’s fantastic news. I’m not trying to downplay that. But, I had hoped that the Romulans had turned a corner with their invitation. But their intent is still muddy, their motives still unclear.”

“Diplomat stuff ain’t a game of big steps, and it ain’t for sissies. Much easier to just start shooting and ask questions later.”

“Well, the Praetor took that advice and killed Nevar. Given that logic, maybe it wasn’t the disaster I think it is.”

“You think the party is a disaster?” Iphie said in a sorrow-filled voice, approaching the two women with a tray loaded with desserts and small shot glasses filled with a rich, dark taupe liquid. “Not enough food? Not enough ambience?”

“Nah, the party’s great. Eve’s still tryin’ to decide ‘bout the mission, though.” Kass winked as she took stock of the sundry items. “What’s in the little glasses?”

The half-Bolian woman first looked at the Counsellor to confirm Kass’ opinion. Eve nodded in agreement, trying to build Iphigenia back up. “You should consider it a rousing success. Don’t let my mood indicate otherwise.”

Iphie perked up a little at this, and leaned in closer to the two women. “Don’t tell Cap’n Homie, but I’m calling them Irish coffee shots. I was going to offer him one to soften him up before I laid that on him, but he already left.” He’d kept his promise to her, but she was still asserting he needed to loosen up a little more, even in his absence.

Kass clumsily patted Iphie’s shoulder, trying to be reassuring. “Not ta worry, I’ll have some for him.” She wasted no time in downing a shot. It paired well with the petite turnovers filled with banana and Nutella.

Eve nibbled on a mini tart shell filled with strawberries and creme brulée, and then gamely took a shot glass, following suit with Thytos. The drink was a potent blend of Irish Cream, Irish Whisky, coffee liqueur, and Frangelico. “Wow. You’ve been holding out on us, Iphie.” The youngest Bonviva sibling took this as a sign she could take a quick break, and she sat down in a nearby chair, letting the tray rest on the table next to them. A more serious look filled Iphie’s gray eyes. “I have a question.”

The other two women looked at each other and back to the azure-skinned barkeep and temporary goddess. “Sure,” Eve said, as Kass drank another shot.

“Can a partying Borg develop side effects?”

The Cns smiled in spite of the contrite way the question came across. “That sounds like a medical question. Why do you ask?”

“I think I broke Cy,” Iphie admitted.

Earlier in the evening, Vukovic had shut down suddenly, causing alarm. Things were a little touch-and-go for a few minutes, but he was all right now. “Of course not. He just needed to regenerate.”

“You haven’t heard? He’s making music now. Something about Peter’s Wolf. No. Peter is a Werewolf.” She shook her head again, trying to recall what Jake said. “Sorry, Peter and the Wolf.”

Kass sat down, wondering if she could fit another bite of food in, her hand tucked in the waistband of her slacks. “What ya mean, makin’ music? Playing an instrument? Singin’?”

“As weird as it sounds, he’s… humming. I had Jake check on him and he said the name of the tune was Peter and the Wolf.”

Eve looked surprised. “Wait a minute. You spoke to Jake? How did that go?”

Iphie rolled her eyes. “We’re both still alive if that counts for anything. But that doesn’t matter right now. I’m worried about Cy.”

*Me too,* Dalziel thought. His appointment with her that afternoon hadn’t shed any light on what information he might be holding back or why. Whatever it was, wasn’t good for his wellbeing. “I’m sure Jake will make sure he gets a full evaluation, once he’s rested.”

“He said that too,” Iphie replied glumly, clearly not satisfied.

Eve was tapping her fingers on the table when she had an epiphany. Maybe this song was a key she could use to make headway with Tomas. “I have to go.”

“What?” the proprietor of the Vulgar Tribble asked, her jaw dropping a little. Eve clasped Iphie’s hands in an effort to reassure her.

“Listen, I hate to eat and run, but I just remembered something I need to do. Good night, Kass. Thanks again, Iphie.” She hastened towards the doorway like a woman who was suddenly sober.

“Where’s tha fire?” Kassandra called out after her.

Eve stopped in her tracks. The MCO deserved an explanation, but there wasn’t a lot the Cardassian born woman could reveal. “Sorry, it’s confidential.”


=/\=

Scene: Dalziel’s Quarters

“Computer, lights, eighty percent.” The room brightened in compliance with Eve’s request. She took her wedge slingback shoes off and walked over to the wall of built-ins that flanked the side of her quarters. She opened one of the rectangular cubbies and it revealed a row of decanters and matching glassware. She paused. “I need information on a musical composition called ‘Peter and the Wolf’.”

[[Peter and the Wolf is recognized as a symphony for children. It was composed in 1936 by Sergei Prokofiev. It was written in a two week time span for a children's theatre in what was known at that time as Moscow, Russia, Earth. It consists of a dozen pieces of music without lyrics along with a narration that separates each section.]]

Eve poured some Grand Marnier in a snifter and sat down on the sofa. “Continue.”

[[Each character of this tale is represented by a corresponding instrument in the orchestra: the bird by a flute, the duck by an oboe, the cat by a clarinet playing staccato in a low register, the grandfather by a bassoon, the wolf by three horns, Peter by the string quartet, the shooting of the hunters by the kettle drums and bass drum. This was designed to educate the children about musical motifs and to learn to distinguish the sonorities of the instruments during the performance of this tale.]]

“What is the story of Peter and the Wolf?”

[[Peter, a Young Pioneer, lives at his grandfather's home in a forest clearing. One day, Peter goes out into the clearing, leaving the garden gate open, and the duck that lives in the yard takes the opportunity to go swimming in a pond nearby. The duck starts arguing with a little bird. Peter's pet cat stalks them quietly, and the bird—warned by Peter— flies to safety in a tall tree while the duck swims to safety in the middle of the pond.

Peter's grandfather scolds him for being outside in the meadow alone, and, when he defies him, saying that boys like him are not afraid of wolves, his grandfather takes him back into the house and locks the gate. Soon afterward, a big, grey wolf does indeed come out of the forest. The cat quickly climbs into a tree, but the duck, who has jumped out of the pond, is chased, overtaken, and swallowed by the wolf.

Peter fetches a rope and climbs over the garden wall into the tree. He asks the bird to fly around the wolf's head to distract it, while he lowers a noose and catches the wolf by its tail. The wolf struggles to get free, but Peter ties the rope to the tree and the noose only gets tighter.

Some hunters, who have been tracking the wolf, come out of the forest ready to shoot, but Peter gets them to help him take the wolf to a zoo in a victory parade that includes himself, the bird, the hunters leading the wolf, the cat, and grumpy grumbling Grandfather.

In the story's ending, the listener is told that the wolf in his haste swallowed the duck alive, and that quacking can be heard inside the wolf's belly.]]

Eve shuddered, and drained the glass of orange liqueur. It sounded kind of violent for a kid’s story. But it made no sense to her what meaning it might have held for the Borg FCO. “Describe the underlying themes in the composition.”

[[Please clarify if you are referring to musical themes or literary themes.]]

“Literary.”

[[The first draft of the libretto was about a Young Pioneer, the Soviet version of a Boy Scout, named Peter who rights a wrong by challenging an adult. This was a common theme in propaganda aimed at children in the USSR, or Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, at the time. However, Prokofiev was dissatisfied with the rhyming text produced by Antonina Sakonskaya, a then popular children's author. Prokofiev wrote a new version where Peter captures a wolf. As well as promoting desired Pioneer virtues such as vigilance, bravery and resourcefulness, the plot illustrates Soviet themes such as the stubbornness of the un-Bolshevik older generation, in this case the grandfather, and the triumph of Man, Peter, taming Nature, the wolf.]]

Eve’s forehead furrowed. Fatigue, or perhaps overindulgence, was starting to set in. “Is there any known connection between the Borg Collective and this composition?”

[[Negative.]]

Eve felt like she had reached a dead end. Maybe it was a mnemonic device of some kind, deep in the recesses of Cy’s circuitry. “Does Lieutenant Tomas Vukovic have a connection to any persons living or dead with the name Peter or Wolf in any form or spelling?”

[[You do not possess high enough Intel clearance to access this information.]]

“Dammit,” she said. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, but it was inconvenient. She realized that could only mean one thing; he was a more active and experienced agent than she had ever thought about becoming. She anticipated that the classical piece wasn’t just a random dream of the curious man, but he was the sole person who could confirm that for her.

It would be up to him whether or not he would.


=/\=
NRPG: All credit to the internet for information regarding ‘Peter and the Wolf’

Notice that Eve’s assuming an awful lot here. But she doesn’t know that.

Susan Ledbetter
Writing for

Lieutenant Eve Dalziel
Cns
USS PHOENIX