04-25-2025, 12:51 AM
Tyra wasn't sure she did a good job of hiding her skepticism as Nathan answered, the tiniest hint of a smile accompanying an affirmative. And her skepticism wasn't exactly eased at his mention of failsafes because from where she was standing, she sure as Hell didn't see any precautions that could be called failsafes unless poking air holes in the crate he'd been hiding in counted.
It didn't.
Fortunately, his mention of the Rogue Planet and the Megasphere derailed her from poking any holes in his argument. After all, when placed into the light of some of their previous misadventures, infiltrating a smuggling ring seemed downright pedestrian so maybe it made sense he would have seen it as a worthwhile trade. She couldn't decide if that seemed stupidly idealistic to trust the deal, as had always been his way, or if it was a reformed take on realism, the understanding that none of this would go away without some blood and sweat on the scales.
“I’m not that Midshipman anymore.”
His grip on her arms was firm but not painful, almost as if he was willing her to believe him, to see him as someone other than that naively idealistic midshipman who had caused her endless headaches. His words echoed his desire to be seen as more than the sum of his mistakes, which she could attest were many in those early years.
And for better or worse, she believed him. Oh, she still saw that young man in his little grins and his mischevious gaze but she also saw a man who had seen that the universe was not an ideal place, who had seen some of the worst it had to offer, and instead of being crushed by that realization, he had adapted. She did hope he still held onto a little of that idealism as the universe didn't need more cynicism in the realms of her own and Jenny's but it also didn't need the level of idealism that led to foolish treaties and blind trust. Her hope for Nathan was always to have a balance between the two, cynical enough to not fall for everything but idealistic enough to still see the good in people. And maybe, himself.
"-- Despite that love for it, I might have left the Fleet if it wasn’t for you. You believed in me when I couldn’t even believe in myself.”
Her lips parted, words rolling onto the top of her tongue that would have demolished what felt like a view through rose colored glasses but he plowed forward with a conviction that had her swallowing the words.
Maybe it didn't matter that her belief hadn't been unwavering, just that what she conveyed had assured and confident. It didn't matter that she'd laid awake more nights than she'd admit worrying that she wasn't handling the near constant issues the right way, that she was setting her troubled duo up for failure -- and Ben's fate suggested she had been right to worry -- but what had mattered was the lifeline she'd provided.
She forced herself to swallow again, this time around a knot that felt like it had lodged in her throat. She didn't feel worthy of the loyalty and devotion weaving through Nathan's explanation, despite having felt such depths for others. It was a strange but humbling feeling to feel such a connection, to know that there were people willing and capable to fight the very Fates at her side as she would theirs.
“Let me help you. It’s obvious that something is going on here, whether it is an actual conspiracy, or if it’s just that you’ve made some big enemies,” he requested seriously, though a hint of a smirk almost marred the effect before he repeated his entreaty.
Her blue eyes sought Nathan's as she stood back up. She made no effort to hide the slow, deliberate assessment of him as her gaze seemed to slowly shifted across the planes of his face, looking for the tiniest hint of something.
It took her a moment or two to realize just what he was asking, what he was really asking. He could only ever truly help her if she stopped viewing him as [b]that[b] midshipman, as someone she needed to protect. If she had treated Ben more as a peer, maybe he wouldn't have felt like he needed to beat her to the punch and maybe, if she treated Nathan like an equal, she wouldn't need to worry about him agreeing to a stupid idea to save them both without talking to her.
Whether it was that realization or something she saw in Nathan's expression was anyone's guess but she blinked suddenly all the same, the tiniest hint of a frown breaking through her expression for a moment before the real world came crashing back in.
[Calleja to Crawford and Givens. We’ve gained entry to the hidden space. The qoH is a slave ship. Chains and manacles down the walls, dried blood everywhere. That’s why they went to such lengths to stop us gettin’ in here. Can’t see any survivors but we’re goin’ to give it another look over. Ship’s sensors didn’t pick up Ramius so maybe there’s more. Standin’ by if you have any other orders.]
Givens' response was directly on her heels, reporting the discovery of a Dominion console. She felt a chill work up her spine as she considered her own rather unique history with the Dominion or at least the Jem Hadar. She doubted there were many officers that could claim they'd served along side them, much less commanded them. It had been a short lived but rather eye opening part of her early command career, yet another oddity she could attribute to those strange times on the original Avenger. And it made her expertly capable of stating she wanted nothing to do with anything Dominion related.
Her eyes had squeezed closed as the tiny pieces of memory had rushed forward, not all negative but from a time she truly didn't want to relive. What she knew was that she didn't like the pieces she currently had to this puzzle, not one bit.
"Your new best friend and I will be coming aboard shortly. Tear that ship apart and someone tear that damn console apart. I want to know what Klingon smugglers + Dominion technology + slaves equals, preferably before it smacks us in the face."
She closed the channel with a more forceful tap than was needed before her gaze found Nathan again. Slowly, she extended her hand.
"I can't promise I'll always want help and may even resent it from time to time. And I certainly can't promise that I won't try to fall on any swords if the opportunity arises but I would appreciate someone having my back. Someone I trust implicitly and without reservations," she stated sincerely.
"But it needs to be a two-way street. No taking suicide missions to protect me without at least consulting me, okay? We could have come up with something better than this half-baked idea," she added, her lips pulling into a smirk by the end.
== Tag! ==
It didn't.
Fortunately, his mention of the Rogue Planet and the Megasphere derailed her from poking any holes in his argument. After all, when placed into the light of some of their previous misadventures, infiltrating a smuggling ring seemed downright pedestrian so maybe it made sense he would have seen it as a worthwhile trade. She couldn't decide if that seemed stupidly idealistic to trust the deal, as had always been his way, or if it was a reformed take on realism, the understanding that none of this would go away without some blood and sweat on the scales.
“I’m not that Midshipman anymore.”
His grip on her arms was firm but not painful, almost as if he was willing her to believe him, to see him as someone other than that naively idealistic midshipman who had caused her endless headaches. His words echoed his desire to be seen as more than the sum of his mistakes, which she could attest were many in those early years.
And for better or worse, she believed him. Oh, she still saw that young man in his little grins and his mischevious gaze but she also saw a man who had seen that the universe was not an ideal place, who had seen some of the worst it had to offer, and instead of being crushed by that realization, he had adapted. She did hope he still held onto a little of that idealism as the universe didn't need more cynicism in the realms of her own and Jenny's but it also didn't need the level of idealism that led to foolish treaties and blind trust. Her hope for Nathan was always to have a balance between the two, cynical enough to not fall for everything but idealistic enough to still see the good in people. And maybe, himself.
"-- Despite that love for it, I might have left the Fleet if it wasn’t for you. You believed in me when I couldn’t even believe in myself.”
Her lips parted, words rolling onto the top of her tongue that would have demolished what felt like a view through rose colored glasses but he plowed forward with a conviction that had her swallowing the words.
Maybe it didn't matter that her belief hadn't been unwavering, just that what she conveyed had assured and confident. It didn't matter that she'd laid awake more nights than she'd admit worrying that she wasn't handling the near constant issues the right way, that she was setting her troubled duo up for failure -- and Ben's fate suggested she had been right to worry -- but what had mattered was the lifeline she'd provided.
She forced herself to swallow again, this time around a knot that felt like it had lodged in her throat. She didn't feel worthy of the loyalty and devotion weaving through Nathan's explanation, despite having felt such depths for others. It was a strange but humbling feeling to feel such a connection, to know that there were people willing and capable to fight the very Fates at her side as she would theirs.
“Let me help you. It’s obvious that something is going on here, whether it is an actual conspiracy, or if it’s just that you’ve made some big enemies,” he requested seriously, though a hint of a smirk almost marred the effect before he repeated his entreaty.
Her blue eyes sought Nathan's as she stood back up. She made no effort to hide the slow, deliberate assessment of him as her gaze seemed to slowly shifted across the planes of his face, looking for the tiniest hint of something.
It took her a moment or two to realize just what he was asking, what he was really asking. He could only ever truly help her if she stopped viewing him as [b]that[b] midshipman, as someone she needed to protect. If she had treated Ben more as a peer, maybe he wouldn't have felt like he needed to beat her to the punch and maybe, if she treated Nathan like an equal, she wouldn't need to worry about him agreeing to a stupid idea to save them both without talking to her.
Whether it was that realization or something she saw in Nathan's expression was anyone's guess but she blinked suddenly all the same, the tiniest hint of a frown breaking through her expression for a moment before the real world came crashing back in.
[Calleja to Crawford and Givens. We’ve gained entry to the hidden space. The qoH is a slave ship. Chains and manacles down the walls, dried blood everywhere. That’s why they went to such lengths to stop us gettin’ in here. Can’t see any survivors but we’re goin’ to give it another look over. Ship’s sensors didn’t pick up Ramius so maybe there’s more. Standin’ by if you have any other orders.]
Givens' response was directly on her heels, reporting the discovery of a Dominion console. She felt a chill work up her spine as she considered her own rather unique history with the Dominion or at least the Jem Hadar. She doubted there were many officers that could claim they'd served along side them, much less commanded them. It had been a short lived but rather eye opening part of her early command career, yet another oddity she could attribute to those strange times on the original Avenger. And it made her expertly capable of stating she wanted nothing to do with anything Dominion related.
Her eyes had squeezed closed as the tiny pieces of memory had rushed forward, not all negative but from a time she truly didn't want to relive. What she knew was that she didn't like the pieces she currently had to this puzzle, not one bit.
"Your new best friend and I will be coming aboard shortly. Tear that ship apart and someone tear that damn console apart. I want to know what Klingon smugglers + Dominion technology + slaves equals, preferably before it smacks us in the face."
She closed the channel with a more forceful tap than was needed before her gaze found Nathan again. Slowly, she extended her hand.
"I can't promise I'll always want help and may even resent it from time to time. And I certainly can't promise that I won't try to fall on any swords if the opportunity arises but I would appreciate someone having my back. Someone I trust implicitly and without reservations," she stated sincerely.
"But it needs to be a two-way street. No taking suicide missions to protect me without at least consulting me, okay? We could have come up with something better than this half-baked idea," she added, her lips pulling into a smirk by the end.
== Tag! ==