07-03-2025, 12:56 AM
>> Bridge >>
Mara twisted her torso uncomfortably as she walked into her quarters. The adrenaline from the away mission had worn off and now it was time to pay the bill for her exertions on the qoH. The Klingon brothers had landed some good shots before she could take them out, and now she was really feeling it.
The Amazonian Security Chief kicked her boots off and made a beeline for the shower. She left her armour in a pile on the couch and everything else in the corner of the bathroom. Reluctantly she checked herself out in the mirror and sighed. The bruises really were epic. Angry purple patches covered most of her chest.
Fuck’s sake. I have got to get some thicker armour she thought, wincing as she touched the yellow patch in the middle of the dinner-plate sized bruise over her heart. It’s built for firefights, which is cool. But it ain’t much help to me. I do my work closer up. I could really use somethin’ that can take a few old school blows without crackin’ on me.
Calleja shook her head and climbed into the shower. Ever since she’d spent those few minutes in the slave compartment on the qoH, she’d felt… unclean. Like the blood and the fear that had permeated the chamber had coated her somehow. Despite herself, she shivered as she scrubbed the dried Klingon blood off her face.
I didn’t know it would bother me this much. It shouldn’t, but it does. I really really want to absolutely fuckin’ wreck whoever was givin’ the orders. Like carve my fuckin’ name on their jugular right before I break their fuckin’ neck.
Eventually Mara was satisfied that she’d cleaned every trace of the qoH off herself. She got dressed again in a clean uniform, wincing occasionally as pressure was put on the wrong spot, before heading to the coffee machine set up on a counter. It was the twin of the fire engine red appliance that she’d had set up in the Security office and produced the same caffeinated rocket fuel. The Bandaran had learned to appreciate really good coffee, and it was one of the few indulgences she allowed herself.
Pouring a cup, she leant back against the wall and sighed. It still hadn’t entirely sunk in that these rooms were hers now. The DH quarters aboard Artemis were bigger than the apartment she’d grown up in, and she’d shared that with her parents and sister.
Come a long way since then she mused. If I could go back and find me as a kid, and tell her where I’d end up… She’d never believe me. The thought made her smile to herself. She’d been well into her teens before she was even aware the Federation existed, never mind Star Fleet.
Still grinning, Mara finished her coffee and scraped her hair back into a rough ponytail. She clipped her holster to her belt and headed out. There was a duty to perform and it needed doing before she was called on again.
>> Medical Complex >>
Mara twisted her torso uncomfortably as she walked into her quarters. The adrenaline from the away mission had worn off and now it was time to pay the bill for her exertions on the qoH. The Klingon brothers had landed some good shots before she could take them out, and now she was really feeling it.
The Amazonian Security Chief kicked her boots off and made a beeline for the shower. She left her armour in a pile on the couch and everything else in the corner of the bathroom. Reluctantly she checked herself out in the mirror and sighed. The bruises really were epic. Angry purple patches covered most of her chest.
Fuck’s sake. I have got to get some thicker armour she thought, wincing as she touched the yellow patch in the middle of the dinner-plate sized bruise over her heart. It’s built for firefights, which is cool. But it ain’t much help to me. I do my work closer up. I could really use somethin’ that can take a few old school blows without crackin’ on me.
Calleja shook her head and climbed into the shower. Ever since she’d spent those few minutes in the slave compartment on the qoH, she’d felt… unclean. Like the blood and the fear that had permeated the chamber had coated her somehow. Despite herself, she shivered as she scrubbed the dried Klingon blood off her face.
I didn’t know it would bother me this much. It shouldn’t, but it does. I really really want to absolutely fuckin’ wreck whoever was givin’ the orders. Like carve my fuckin’ name on their jugular right before I break their fuckin’ neck.
Eventually Mara was satisfied that she’d cleaned every trace of the qoH off herself. She got dressed again in a clean uniform, wincing occasionally as pressure was put on the wrong spot, before heading to the coffee machine set up on a counter. It was the twin of the fire engine red appliance that she’d had set up in the Security office and produced the same caffeinated rocket fuel. The Bandaran had learned to appreciate really good coffee, and it was one of the few indulgences she allowed herself.
Pouring a cup, she leant back against the wall and sighed. It still hadn’t entirely sunk in that these rooms were hers now. The DH quarters aboard Artemis were bigger than the apartment she’d grown up in, and she’d shared that with her parents and sister.
Come a long way since then she mused. If I could go back and find me as a kid, and tell her where I’d end up… She’d never believe me. The thought made her smile to herself. She’d been well into her teens before she was even aware the Federation existed, never mind Star Fleet.
Still grinning, Mara finished her coffee and scraped her hair back into a rough ponytail. She clipped her holster to her belt and headed out. There was a duty to perform and it needed doing before she was called on again.
>> Medical Complex >>