"It doesn't look like anything to me."

Posted on Mon Jan 17th, 2022 @ 6:03am by Ships Doctor Hiram Maitland M.D. & Evahnae Kohl
Edited on on Wed Jan 19th, 2022 @ 5:02pm

Mission: Mission 14: Holoworld
Location: SS Holoworld
Timeline: MD5 1900
Tags: Challenge 2? Hee hee hee.
10725 words - 21.5 OF Standard Post Measure

Slowly but surely they were forging some type of connection - as much of a connection as one could reasonably expect that Hiram was capable of making. He had relatively decent working relationships with most of the ship's crew compliment, but the electric-eyed doctor rarely ventured beyond the surface with any one of them.

He'd come back from Holoworld calm yesterday afternoon, but didn't elect to speak on it more than to explain that they had been amidst a ship-ran program detailing the Borg-potentially activated by an organic life-sign within the ship-of all species. They'd been assured there was no danger, it was just an incredibly unusual program for anyone to have activated. Eva didn't imagine the briefest flicker of tightness in his eyes as he refused to elucidate his opinion on the Borg, who were ordinarily met with universal condemnation and fear.

But they'd made plans, and he wasn't an irresponsible sort. Very boring, very predictable - she was to introduce him to a good movie- media being something Hiram wasn't precisely inclined toward, but he was an agreeable sort, and content to follow Eva's lead. He showed up, his medkit over his shoulder. He was decked in a forest green sweater whose sleeves came about half-way down the palms of his hands, making him appear downright cozy, and dark blue jeans.

"Evening," he greeted her with a practiced smile.

Cozy had been Eva's suggested theme for the outing, and though Hiram's attempt to honor her request made for a painfully adorable impression that he was decreasing in proportions, it was no surprise that the feisty brunette had set the bar impossibly high. With no care to impress anyone or anything other than her own extremities, Eva had occupied herself whilst waiting in the airlock by trying to wrestle the massive blanket draped around her shoulders into some semblance of a manageable shroud. The hood smooshing strands of hair against her forehead almost certainly sported two rather non-descript fuzzy ears and, in utter contradiction that seemed to express the woman's personality perfectly, the occasional glimpse of bare skin indicated she was wearing cut-off jean shorts. The entire ensemble was complicated by the several inches of heel on her ankle boots that, try as she might, Eva was having a difficult time not tangling up in blanket.

She kicked out a leg, creating a ripple of lusciously-soft fleece, and then shook her foot several more times, eventually unbalancing into him, as she tried to free her trapped foot.

"There you are. Where's your blanket?" She hadn't stipulated the need for one, instead obviously assuming that it was a predictable given. "Also, I have snacks," she struggled with the blanket again to indicate a looming shape beneath that might have been a laden bag, "and a few options for movies. We can decide on the way what to watch first."

It apparently was not predictable to Hiram, but his expression warmed up a little as he watched her flail around like a kitten stuck under a pillow. He maneuvered behind her to assist, ensuring she didn't outright fall over, and gently lifted the blanket a little off of her shoulders to facilitate her re-adjusting her position to something more comfortable, and then folded his hands behind his back, entirely ruining the cozy directive altogether.

"It appears that you have enough blanket for two," Hiram said, dry, although it would likely fit him normally, Eva. God. So smol. "Which movies have you selected?" he wondered, letting her lead the way through the airlock.

"You're assuming I intend to share," came the swift retort as Eva took the lead, trailing blanket like a bride's train to make navigating around her a matter of precise piloting. Luckily for Hiram, if that was indeed the word for it, sharing wasn't really an issue when it came to the somewhat-Betazoid's approach to socialising. Having created an odd procession, with herself as delegated regent, Eva moved them through the corridor to the turbolift that was now easily her favourite. Having favourite turbolifts was probably weird but this one was the shortest route to the closest holodeck space and that meant less opportunity for the damned ship to throw any more surprises her way.

"It was hard to choose," she confided, having to walk all the way to the back of the lift and then swish the blanket towards her to prevent incident. Collecting visual media had become a hobby back as far as childhood and her digital collection, whilst impressive, often created issues with being spoiled for choice. "Do you feel like watching giant robots fight even bigger alien monsters? Or giant alien robots fighting other giant alien robots? Or giant monsters smashing up cities?" There was a mounting theme. "There's good guys with superpowers fighting bad guys with superpowers, or
pirates fighting huge sea monsters, or just a really, really big ape." Eva leaned against the turbolift wall and thought a moment, an attempt to change genres. "Giant aliens in tripods taking over Earth?" Nope.

It made Hiram laugh, as her list grew more and more kaiju-focused. "I cannot say I am familiar with the genre, nor with these films, but as they appear to be very similar, I shall defer to your judgment of which one is the best. By whichever standards you choose to set," he added. But then he totally added a preference, "-super powers?" he was familiar with the concept, maybe. Good guys and bad guys were-undoubtedly, fascinating concepts to him in general. Who was the hero, who was the villain-and how often it so happened that those things weren't always as intuitive as they seemed on their face.

"Yep, there's easily a hundred to choose from though and the timelines get a little wobbly. Trying to figure out what order to watch them in is still an argument my father and I have." She grinned at him from beneath her bear-ears and cuddled the blanket around her. "You'd probably like Doctor Strange." The glint in her eyes was pure mischief at his expense without remorse.

"I must presume it is because I bear remarkable resemblance to the title character?" Hiram huffed, letting himself show an amused expression. She couldn't have picked a better target for it; he was genuinely unmoved, and he was capable enough at social interaction to understand the interplay of self-deprecation-provided the touch was light. "I must confess I suspect it won't be autobiographical." He shot a finger-gun at her. That he learned. On Wikipedia.

"He has a magical cape and can distort time. Plus, he's cute." The fuzzy bear poked its tongue out at him. "Nothing like you."

Hiram 'gasped', touching his chest with his spread fingertips. "I would have you know that I am positively adorable," he said, followed by an outrageous wink. It was another facet of his personality that took a little getting used to-he sometimes just tried thing, and it came off very random, and unusual, and didn't fit the bigger picture of his more consistent and stable traits, or always match the situation at hand. But it was, mostly, harmless, and he appeared to be attempting to experiment in social behaviors without actually being asocial, so it could be worse.

If pressed to explain her immediate, unfiltered sense of affinity for her unusual crewmate, Eva might have struggled to provide an explanation that hit anywhere close to the crux of it all. There was truth enough in the fact that she had a tendency to take to most people as a natural default, and that her typical style was to just assume they were getting along until proven otherwise, but that side of her nature was also her most superficial. Eva would have balked at calling it insincerity but years in hospitality had built up her capacity to operate on a social level that made it appear she was thoroughly living for the moment whilst actually inserting very little of her true self into it. It gifted her a sense of the absurd and a willingness to take centre stage, even if only to make others laugh, but it also meant that almost all her associations were...shallow. Life became a performance.

The camaraderie she hurled at Hiram came from a very similar place but it was grounded by a wary undertone, an emotional side-eye that scrutinised his reactions and brought into focus just how uncomplicated he tended to make things. He was a physical reality, warm and present, but in all other aspects that would normally constitute an intrusion she never spoke about, he was...calm. Not absent exactly, but a low monotone hum that barely wavered and was simply there.

She appreciated it more than she'd actually figured out yet.

As the doors opened, however, it was that sense of security and simplicity that prompted her to heft the blanket from her own shoulders to drape over his, an attempt that required some jumping to execute. Having supplied him with the necessary cape to commence his transformation into one of her favourite characters from that particular creative universe, Eva danced ahead, twirling in circles, as they made their way towards the nearby holodeck.

"How about a holiday classic? You like buildings being blown up for no reason, right?"

Hiram's answer might be even less self-aware than that. He'd done the work, and then he'd gone on to teach others the work-so he did have a high level of self-awareness for the things that were missing and wrong, but what he didn't have, was the experience of being genuinely welcomed by others, once they became aware of his true subjective state. He was, more often than not, met with fear and anger.

And he was not ordinarily one to dwell on such inanities-certainly not one to be emotionally affected by them, because he wasn't, but it still cognitively challenged him. Perhaps the Borg had infiltrated more than he'd expected. Rael had been an exception, not the rule. And even then, Rael didn't stay. And he couldn't have blamed him, he needed a rapport that Hiram wasn't capable of providing, and he had the telepathy to know the difference.

Eva-sought him out. Seemed to like his company. Joked with him. Taught him silly games. Shared her extensive collection of movies-he was anticipating being subjected to all of them-encouraged him to play drums with her and drink something more interesting than ice water and wear a literal Victorian dress to the holodeck. For someone like Hiram, these actions were not surface actions. They were important. They mattered. That she was the one who behaved that way, mattered.

As someone who had only ever had a single enduring, close friendship in his life, to someone who was as unusual as himself-Hiram could not classify this. He wasn't sure he was even supposed to, because as far as he was aware, many people did act this way-even toward strangers. So he settled on-well, simplicity. Accepting what was. A reflex as old as Hiram's earliest memory. Accept it into you. Move forward.

"Like is a strong word," he replied, dry. "But I am quite curious about the holiday component. My parents did expose me to them, but I fear I still forget when most of them are," he admitted with a laugh.

"Of all the cultures that ever existed, I'm sure at least one of them had a holiday for blowing up buildings," Eva reasoned, tapping the memorised sequence into the room's input display and then stepping happily into the familiar space. It was a smallish theatre, exceptionally vintage in scope and design, and very much reminiscent of a time when Earth's regional influences were far more pronounced. Though it was likely a remodeling of something a little closer to her childhood home, the entire place reeked of French, from its plush red seats to the excessive amounts of fleur-de-lis embellishing every surface with garish gold paint.

Eva moved very directly to the central row of seats, nestled behind the balustrade that separated the lower section from the upper, and dangled the bag of snacks in a pendulum as her outstretched hands presented the selection of seats to him like a gameshow prize. "Best row in the house!"

"I have never been to an institution like this," Hiram murmured quietly, fascinated-and somewhat caught off-guard, but not in the negative sense as he did his best to mimic Eva and picked a seat alongside hers. He had been advised to bring some snacks, as well, but Hiram's snack was like, celery and carrots. He was smiling faintly as he produced his incredible movie snacks, waiting expectantly for Eva's reaction.

Narrowed eyes surveyed his feeble offerings, then his face, then his carrots again. "Hiram..."

Eva screwed her eyes shut, an expression that was fast becoming synonymous with her attempts to process a dozen thoughts all at once. Lost for further statement for a moment, she instead up-ended her bag of treats directly into his lap. Easily the best part of dealing with this crashed wreck of a ship had been squandering its energy reserves on replicating luxuries. A hefty block of chocolate threatened delicate anatomy before the sealed bag of popcorn, easily the size of her head, bounced several times and ended up on the floor. A shower of packets, one after the other, piled haphazardly in a puddle of future stomach cramps in his lap before two bottles of bright red liquid threatened ultimate bruising.

"These are movie snacks. Those," she gestured to his vegetables, "are a travesty."

Reaching over, Eva grabbed the closest end of the blanket and yanked it over her head, feet already wriggled out of her boots so that they could perch on the edge of her seat. She snatched a packet from his laden crotch and, after some effort, wrenched it open. A handful of colouful balls made a pleasing sound when dropped into her mouth one after the other. Eva took his hand, turned it palm-up, and filled it with candy.

"Compu'per," she managed around chewing, "Wun pwogwam."

"Oof," Hiram made sure to say, catching the edge of that chocolate box before it cramped his sensitives and laughing a little. He opened his kit bag and pulled out a few containers stacked neatly on top of one another. "The real piece de resistance," he explained, utterly mangling the pronunciation of that statement. His accent was already mild and unusual, but it was not compatible with French by any means. The containers opened to reveal homemade molten lava cake in one, and cheesecake in the other. It wasn't exactly movie food, but it was junk food. "Just in case you did not approve of my celery," he deadpanned.

Despite the gradual dimming of the lights, it wasn't hard to make out the whites of Eva's eyes now that they were somehow twice their usual size. "You brought cake"? The origin of her incredulity was hard to pinpoint, being either outraged disbelief or astonished gratitude, or perhaps a chaotic mixture of the two. Whatever the case, it became apparent justification for a punch to his upper-arm before Eva leaned forward, nearly fell face-first off her chair, and wound up scrabbling around his feet for one of the bottles she'd practically thrown at him. The blanket complicated her attempts to right herself and, thus, another flurry of activity eventually resulted in a flushed-face triumph, sat cross-legged on the seat with a layer of fleece engulfing her lap.

Eva handed him the glass bottle of viciously pink liquid.

"Try this. Tastes like raspberry but actually not really."

Out in front, the curtains had commenced their slow retraction to settle into place for viewing. There was a moment of quiet gloom before a burst of light from the screen illuminated the room in moving shadows. The very next instant involved a blasting fanfare at decibels loud enough to make the walls vibrate.

Hiram checked the bottle to ensure that it wasn't alcoholic-they didn't want a repeat of their first excursion-and uncapped it, peering curiously down for a brief moment before taking a long drink of it in a single tipped-back motion. "Cake goes well with everything," he explained lightly, and took another drink shortly after the first. It didn't taste like raspberries, but it was interesting. "This is quite palatable," he told her after another swig. When the movie began blaring, his eyes unfocused for a split second, his brain struggling to convert sound into signals into intelligible information at a lagging delivery. Wisely, he didn't comment, and affixed his gaze to the projector instead, watching each movement curiously.

Eva had a particular way of watching movies that often baffled others. Having already arranged her legs to be tucked out of the way, she slouched down in the seat with her hoodie still creating a tempest from her hair and settled her packet of candy on her stomach. It took all of several seconds for one leg to unwind and drape itself over the balustrade, followed not long after by the other. It didn't seem conceivably possible that it could be a comfortable position and yet her only adjustment, after several minutes, was to pull back her legs slightly so that her feet rested on the partition.

Meanwhile, on the screen, a passenger plane made its ascent from the tarmac....

"What is that aircraft?" Sorry, Hiram was a movie-talker. It was about the third or fourth question he'd asked, delightfully ("delightfully") curious about the movie and more specifically, the contents of the movie that actually didn't matter at all. Like what kind of architectural device was featured at a university in one of the scenes or what kind of weapons they were using. At least he didn't appear baffled, nor bothered, by Eva's curious posture-although he did yoink a chocolate candy from her lap with a smile.

Stealing candy earned hand-slaps, though Eva's effort was half-hearted and she immediately negated any protest by throwing two or three at him. She'd seen the movie so many times that, rather than be annoyed by his questions, Eva actually found herself eager to share its glory with a fresh set of eyes. "Obsolete method of Terran air travel. They used to cram themselves into those things and just sit for hours on end to get around."

He caught them reflexively, another little quirk, and divested the candies of their outer wrapping with ease. "It reminds me of a hopper," Hiram said, thoughtful. "I used to fly those, but it was likely far less complicated than that appears." Push the button. Shuttle goes zoom. Standard procedure, really. "But I would wager that a hopper is a good deal faster. Hours on end does seem to be somewhat more tedious as air travel goes."

"Why's it called a hopper if it's built for speed?," came the annoyingly valid yet totally irrelevant question from the puddle of blanket to his left. With a wriggle, back arched, Eva managed to sit up just long enough to drape herself over his lap in search of the wayward bag of popcorn. "And how can a vehicle hop without legs?" She was being intentionally absurd, a situation only made worse by the eventual thud as her forehead hit the floor. In almost any other scenario, the degree of physical familiarity would have been something Eva at least considered before executing but such was the nature of the doctor's company that it didn't even occur to her that he might mind her crawling over him.

Good news! He did not, but his hands raised to permit her to maneuver more easily. The easy way that she employed physical contact did frequently tug odd little ticks of expression in him, but they were largely curious-he'd yet to display any real aggravation in the time she's known him, even when he was inches away from dying. "I remain uncertain as to the origin of the vehicle's etymology," he answered very seriously, but she could tell by this point when he was amused or not. He snatched up a piece of popcorn. "However, it may be because of the way the engines periodically gave way, causing the craft to suddenly dip-like a hop." It was a complete guess.

"So, fast and unstable? Let's not switch topics to my love life."

After a lot of groping, and trying to make her arm twist in ways it wasn't meant to, Eva felt her fingertips brush against her elusive quarry. Perforating it with her nail allowed her to hook it closer, though it invariably produced a trail of popcorn as she clambered back upright. Kneeling on her seat facing him, the blanket now scrunched up at her feet and half-hanging on the ground, Eva shook the bag like a maniac and grinned at the spray of white puffs she peppered him with. So far, every attempt to incite food wars had been met with stoic resistance but she'd break him. One day.

His lips twitched, though. "I believe I may make a better refrigerator than I do doctor," he tipped his head up and caught one in his mouth. After a few seconds he picked up one of the stray pieces and flicked it right at her forehead, and sat back, watching for her reaction. "Your love life-?" he of course did inquire, the statement having caught him somewhat off guard. His features did a little flip, purposeful, and his eyes landed on hers. "Ah, I apologize if that was intrusive."

If there was a way to distract her into divulging more than she normally would have, he'd found it. Eva's grin bordered on delighted glee, though there was amusing-oneself-with-eating-techniques and just outright wasting food. The urge to dump the bag on him was an impulse Eva squashed but, ignoring the scene unfolding on the screen, she chose to capitalise on his uncanny accuracy as a flung-popcorn receptacle and threw another piece at him. "...is non-existent", she finished his sentence for him, aiming once again at his mouth.

He caught it. There were worse ways to eat. "That is regrettable," he said, assuming that it was-but this was an arena he himself had very limited experience with. He'd only been romantically involved with one individual, and the experience was of great value to him, but it also greatly illuminated his deficiencies when it came to interpersonal relations. "Perhaps I shall become your wing-man." His eyebrows arch, dry.

"Oh, is that so?" Eva's genuine laughter might have been construed as vaguely insulting but it lit up her features and ensured that the dark cloud of introspection didn't ruin their moment. Tossing popcorn at him once more, the brunette dared to wander down the rabbit hole. "Okay then, Mr. Matchmaker, what's your first move?"

"First, I must conduct a thorough interview to determine the features of your ideal man," Hiram said so seriously she almost failed to recognize the deadpan tones that periodically underlined his more outrageous statements. "Tall or short?" he retrieved a PADD from the strap pocket of his medkit, a small holographic inlay touch device similar to the one she'd used in the studio, but non-medical, and a stylus.

At first, Eva shot him the newly-minted Hiram expression; a deadpan, over-invisible-glasses stare that questioned everything from his sanity to his parentage in one laser-beam. Then, with a huff that very nearly betrayed a slight hesitation, inches away from insecurity, she rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, staring ahead at the screen to fill her face with popcorn. It took several seconds before the temptation became too much. "Tall. Ish."

"I shall start weeding them out at 6'5"," Hiram promised with a lighthearted smile. About to continue his faux-analysis, Hiram's eyes caught on a movement in the periphery that hadn't come from the projector screen above them and he trailed off momentarily, attempting to catch it again-or deduce if he was merely chasing shadows. His neurology was over-prone to hypervigilance, and he didn't wish to interrupt their outing with another Hiram-certified catastrophe if he could help it.

It was on the tip of her tongue to correct him, to stipulate that they just needed to be taller than her, but even though it was Hiram and his grasp of social nuances was tenuous at best, Eva knew a trap when she was 5-feet-and-3-inches away from setting it off. Instead, she chewed her popcorn and considered the question in a little more depth. Did she even know what she wanted in a partner? As she got older, Eva was beginning to suspect that a lot of her lack of success came down to not knowing the answer to that question in the first place. Since it strayed too far into personal mess she'd yet to untangle, she opted for an off-the-cuff flippant remark for her next demand. "Willing to wear a dress without making lame excuses."

"What about completely valid and legitimate excuses?" Hiram requested innocently. True to form he didn't pry and he didn't wheedle, the total opposite of a Betazoid that it was almost funny. Their search for the truth often came at the price of invasive nosiness. Hiram was curious but he didn't sacrifice their connection to satiate it. "How many visible abs should he have?" he asked, lips pinched to avoid smiling. "Let's start with eight and work our way up." Apparently Hiram's taste in men was, like, linebackers and Zami warriors.

"Oh, at least," Eva conceded, her tone veering far too much towards sincere agreement to be trusted. "Can't trust the lanky ones," her tongued wedged further into her cheek. Though her eyes stared directly ahead, and the popcorn kept up its steady march into her mouth, Eva's mind was turning somersaults in an attempt not to fall into the pit of self-recrimination and confusion that was offering up numerous ways for her to join this conversation properly. Phrases like I suck at finding people who understand me, mostly because I don't understand myself flitted in and out of focus, eventually proving so demanding that the brunette's final last-ditch attempt to thwart them prompted her to shoot him a sideways smirk, open her mouth to add to her evolving description of Hiram himself...and then stop, brow furrowing at something just over his shoulder.

Hiram didn't miss it, and that was the second time it'd happened. Consider his hackles officially raised. He held up his hand, a resolute expression on his features that vaguely recalled the one he'd been wearing when that godawful shrieking alarm had started to go off in his implant. He rose to his feet, hand poised over his back, over a small pocketed compartment that-if Eva remembered right, very likely carried something a lot bigger on the inside. "Audio off," he called to the holosuite-it had already been adjusted to lower during their conversation. Unfortunately, it didn't appear to be responding to his voice command. He rose, turning to survey what-if anything, she'd seen.

"Okay, that's weird." The understatement was made in hushed tones, Eva's natural instincts trapping her between two competing options. "Audio off", she tried herself, though why it would be set to only obey her commands didn't make sense. When that also didn't work, her willingness to stay slouched behind him gave way to cautious curiosity. Scrambling, Eva got up on her knees on her seat and settled both hands on his shoulders to peer back in the direction that had first caught her attention. "How crazy would you rate me if I said I could have sworn I just saw a half-materialised...thing...sitting in the far row?"

"You aren't crazy," Hiram told her calmly, and he patted her hand, withdrawing a long alloy spear, literally, from that small pocket of his bag. It was still covered with a rubber inlay, which he kept on for the time being-safety first. "I saw something as well-the fact that the computer is not responding to our commands is not promising. Computer, arch!" he called upward to no answer-it trilled in response, but nothing was forthcoming. "Stay behind me," he warned her. "We can't be certain the safety protocols are still on." He withdrew a communicator from the other pocket of his kit and flipped it open, calling into it for backup from the Rosie. Nothing, just static.

Under different circumstances, without the thrum of adrenaline in her ears, Eva would have delighted in the fresh new discovery from Hiram's Bag of Tricks. In another time and place, she would have relished any opportunity to make him show her something impressive, to add 'spear throwing' to her growing list of odd little tricks she'd learned from him, or to simply make him pose whilst she quickly sketched his likeness for future artistic projects. Had things taken an alternative path, Eva would have enjoyed this moment thoroughly.

She gripped the back of his sweater, balled the fabric into her fist, and leaned her temple against the middle of his back to listen to the room.

"You hear that?"

It was faint and hard to make out over the throbbing bass of incidental soundtrack. A clicking, tapping, creak of a sound, interspersed with the occasional whirl of circuitry and the out-of-place grind of slightly rusted clockwork. It originated from the dark recess created by the drapes of curtain that framed the walls, four or five rows down.

"I hear it," Hiram murmured, his voice low and steady. From the side pocket of his bag, non-compressed and in plain view, he removed a small disruptor pistol and held it to her. "Are you familiar with how to use a disruptor?" he asked, turning slightly to ensure she held it correctly while she mostly-remained behind him. His eyes didn't move from the flutter in the curtains. "We cannot be too careful," he rationalized, his posture steady and upright, without a hint of tension on his face as he scoured the area.

All of a sudden that rhythmic gaze took on a far more machine-like quality. Sussing out, compartmentalizing, organizing. "Slow and steady, and try to stay behind me." He really hoped that this was something he'd later laugh over, but all the hairs on the back of his neck were upright. The prickle of petrichor in the air before a storm. Static electricity. He knew how to parse a genuine threat from benign foreign stimulus, down to every cell in his genetic make-up.

It would be nice to be wrong. But he didn't think so.

Years of emergency response training left an indelible impression. Ever since they'd arrived at the crash-site, Eva had been bothered by a sense of anticipation, an odd sort of déjà vu that didn't quite make sense because no ship she'd ever served on had ever crashed nor had there ever been a situation where any of the cruisers had been so utterly devoid of people. She had spoken up several times, only to be mostly brushed aside, but as much as she had found use for the facilities and appreciated the excessive amounts of stock she'd managed to procure, nothing had made much of a dent in the sense of wrongness. Finding survivors had been the first missing link and the knot of dread forming in Eva's stomach served as premonition that more answers were about to be forthcoming. She gripped the disruptor, comfortable enough with its function to make use of it if necessary, and released her hold on his clothing to keep from restricting his movements.

"Where are we meant to go though?," she murmured. "You think the manual override on the doors will even work?"

"I don't know," Hiram said truthfully, withdrawing his PADD more sincerely this time and activating a topographical scanning component to identify where the arch actually was amidst the photonic projections. "We can attempt to trigger the override, but we'll need to get to the other side. South-west, 19 meters that way." Replacing the PADD in his pocket, Hiram gripped the spear in his palms, holding it close to his body at a mostly parallel angle, indicating a high degree of familiarity with the instrument that wasn't just for show. His movements were light, footsteps inconsequential, as he moved them forward.

Shuffling along the row was awkward enough at the best of times without having to step over packets of candy, the second bottle of soda and a mound of blanket. One hand on his shoulder kept Eva from tripping but it was a wobbly affair even without her boots, which she'd abandoned in favour of moving barefoot. On screen, a rather sweaty looking guy wheeled a chair towards a long drop, a scene Eva had witnessed dozens of times before. This time, something drew her eye as they picked their way towards the aisle, a jerkiness to the picture quality that she'd never noticed before. As she watched, the screen dimmed, its images forced into a slow motion stutter. For a brief instant, the entire holodeck flickered, like a lightbulb on the way out and then, as if responding to a blown fuse somewhere, plunged into absolute darkness.

The sound, now so vivid with the movie's audio gone, persisted.

"What the fuck..."

Eva's voice, little more than a whisper, barely got the words out before the void was shattered, and the chair pressing against her thigh suddenly wasn't there anymore. A disconcerting barrage of locations materialised and promptly disappeared, a staccato of indecision as the holodeck scanned its library in an attempt to load something.

And then it loaded something. It looked reminiscent of the movie they were just watching, generic bad guys armed with ancient Terran weapons, and a shot rang out that ruffled the wind near Hiram's shoulder. "Back, now," he got directly in front of Eva and ran at the guy directly in front of them, jamming the end of the spear into his solar plexus and then swiveling to bring the razor-sharp end of it clean across his throat, kicking him in the chest until he thudded to the ground. "Come on," he grabbed Eva's hand once he confirmed the entity was dead. "We need to find cover." The holoprograms were torn in their attention between one another and Eva and Hiram, which hopefully would give them the necessary clearance to find something.

The familiarity of the scene was jarring, Eva's only experience with it had been passive observation of a flat-screened representation. Submersing involved other senses, and the smell of fresh blood and gunpowder was an immediate assault that threatened to dominate. She had stood, barefoot and open-mouthed as Hiram had reacted, but there was slight resistance to her willingness to move as he tugged for a retreat, natural preservation locked in battle with her mind's attempt to audit known information with fresh input.

"Are we inside the damn corporate tower?!"

Shouts and gunfire, whilst not directed at the pair, were motivation enough and Eva finally consented to Hiram pushing her to the front, shielding her but also leaving her somewhat in charge of their escape route. Behind them, the sound of smashing glass interspersed with the shouts of dying men, the bar-lighting overhead inexplicably bursting into tiny shards as the logic of physics clashed head-on with the spectacle of the big screen. Weaving between obstacles, Eva spared no backwards glance as she bee-lined for a door leading into the stairwell.

"Those were law enforcement," she panted, heaving open the heavy door and leaning against it so Hiram could move in unhindered. "And that was some sort of electronic staircase they were climbing." Moving away, she let the door slowly close under its own weight and stopped, not immediately following the doctor's reasonable first impulse to head downwards. "Wait." Recollection whirred inside her mind, fragments of scenes and memorised lines coalescing at rapid speed to form some kind of conclusion that would explain the chaos. "That," she indicated the scene on the other side of the door, "is the second movie. But that means we should be on ground floor. If the stairs go down that far..." She leaned over the railing to stare at the spiral that seemed to stretch forever. "There's a whole lower floor that gets destroyed in the first movie."

"Then we should ascend," Hiram decided quickly, his chin lifting upwards to punctuate his point. His mind flickered carefully, low and slow, and steady under pace. They still didn't know if the safeties were on, but given the nature of the technological interference and malfunction, Hiram was operating under the assumption that they were not. They really should invest in holographic forms that didn't have that setting to fuck with in the first place. At least the partition beside them offered some form of cover, but-"we should not stay here. Let's keep moving," Hiram suggested, eyes wavering back and forth in a familiar pendulum.

After a moment's hesitation, Eva dropped her shoulders in a relenting yet reluctant sigh and then turned to lead the way up. "Up isn't exactly much help either, since there's a group of terrorists intent on blowing up the roof and a guy with even more explosives trying to stop them. Burnie would be having the time of his life," she muttered, bare feet gradually losing heat against the cold cement. Round and round for several flights, each exit proving locked or blocked by some sort of obstacle on the other side, Eva's concern morphed into frustration, revealing a tendency to deal with emergencies by complaining loudly about them. "How is this even a thing? It's a movie, I've never tried to program any sort of simulation around it!"

"It appears to be a malfunction," Hiram said super helpfully. "Whatever has gone wrong it appears to be taking elements from the last simulations loaded-I'd expect we may encounter additional random factors, if this continues for much longer," he elaborated-which was more helpful, probably. The building creaked and groans, with cracks appearing in the walls, and Hiram instantly stilled her. "We may need to hold up here," he said, grave. "If this place collapses, we're safest in the stairwell." He cupped his hands in front of him and placed them in front of his mouth. "Like this, to create breathable air, understood?" He watched and waited for a long moment, to see if things would deteriorate further or if the program was just cycling. The cracks disappeared after a moment and the swaying, swerving, fluttering concrete appeared to still. "How did the good guy escape?" he though to ask after a second.

"He wins a confrontation with the head terrorist, saves his ex-wife and they ride off together in a limousine."

The wry tone of Eva's voice conveyed perfectly adequately just how unhelpful that actually seemed. It was a movie, with a predetermined expectation that there would eventually be a moment where the 'good guy' gained the upperhand, even if the odds were stacked against them. If anything, stacked odds just improved the chances of outright success. Unable to trust her eyes, the brunette reached out a hand to tentatively touch the wall, reassuring herself that it was still solid enough and then turned worried eyes to her stoic companion. "He's the protagonist though, anyone else in the story was either a hostage or a terrorist." Eva arched her eyebrows. "And we don't currently look much like hostages."

The irony of that comment-unbeknownst to Eva-was not lost on Hiram. His expression did a vague-though purposeful-shuffle; grim and sardonic simultaneously, before settling back into its signatory calm. "Blending in with the hostages may be our best bet. Holograms are not ordinarily sophisticated enough to observe to such a degree as would be required to determine that we didn't belong-although, that is not a guarantee. Either way, we are in peril. Otherwise we will have to fight our way out of here." Hiram's tone suggested that he didn't have a problem doing that, but his concern was Eva.

"At this point," Eva muttered, tentatively resuming her lead up the stairs, "I'd welcome an excuse to punch a hologram in the face." It wasn't exactly a reasonable option given the imbalance in weaponry but it expressed the partial-telepath's frustration over the past few days with perfect clarity. She was miffed, not only with the crew for being more worried about having fun than seeking answers, but more specifically with herself for getting caught up in the hype. She'd known better; she'd just chosen to ignore it.

The next door, unlike the previous, actually budged when she tried the handle and leaned on it. Eva caught herself in time and merely cracked it open an inch or so, pressing herself flat against it to allow Hiram first peek into the room beyond. "I can still hear that noise," she murmured, speaking up because it was fast becoming the most unnerving thing about their current situation. At times, it sounded as if it was originating from any location with arm's length, though there was nothing visible to help pinpoint a source. Whatever was causing it didn't seem to belong in the setting, and the displacement of the sound made it even more jarring.

"As can I," Hiram verified independently-she wasn't crazy, it was there. He came to a stop beside her and took the lead, crossing in front as they approached the top floor. "Be prepared for anything," he advised quietly. "It could follow the pattern of the film, or it could be entirely distinct and chaotic. Try to keep low and behind cover, and move as quietly as you can. If something happens to me, find a place to hide and stay there until the Mary Rose sends a search party to find you." His tone was even, but delivered in that same firm, unwavering cadence as it had been when his life was on the line a few days prior.

"If something happens to you, I'll kick your ass."

Eva's hushed tone didn't deliver the threat with any real vigor, barely able to translate any kind of bravado to hide the crack in her voice. She didn't mention that it also seemed unlikely such a search party would eventuate, not so much because she wanted to consider indifference on the crew's part, but Eva just couldn't imagine how long it would take any of them to realise she was actually gone. They might notice the empty space behind the bar but would any of them find it weird enough to investigate? It was an odd moment to feel suffocated by loneliness but the throb of it silenced her as they moved into the dark space, barely illuminated but seemingly decorated for festivities. The open floorspace, divided into numerous workstations, didn't appear to house any immediate threats but it also didn't offer up a wealth of escape options either. Along the far wall, reflecting the repetitive flash of strobing Christmas tree lights, huge windows opened up the city skyline beyond.

It was dark.

"There's no city-wide blackout in the movie," she murmured, scanning the room for anything familiar as they wove between computer desks.

"A random element," Hiram deduced with a nod. He seemed to notice that she was cycling through something internally and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. A sound from the opposite room, and Hiram quickly ducked behind the desk, stilling Eva as well. It took some time to pass before they were on the move again. That whirring chimed like a metronomic clock, only it was far less comforting-if one could call it such-than the pendulous back-and-forth of her companion's eyes. "We can use the blackout to our advantage," he said the obvious. If they couldn't see the enemy, the enemy also couldn't see them.

"Assuming these holograms want to play by logical rules."

It didn't sit with Eva to be cynical, or at the very least it wasn't in her nature to be a defeatist. Feeling impotent wasn't pleasant, however, and when the only way she could really contribute couldn't be trusted because the simulation was refusing to stick to script...

Towards the back of the room, behind them and slightly to the left, something clattered to the floor.

"There is something in here," Eva hissed, having beaten Hiram by a split second in ducking to a crouch and scampering behind one of the partitions. "I swear, I have the exact same feeling I've had every time I set foot on this damn ship." Having failed as one of life's natural whisperers, the strain in Eva's lower tones betrayed her mounting desperation. "Like there is someone standing right behind me, breathing down my neck."

"I can go and see what it is," Hiram told her, because at the very least he could dispatch of the threat that had been stalking them since this started. "But you will need to stay low, and stay quiet. If anything comes at you, you point and shoot." He placed a hand on her shoulder, an attempt to solidify, to steady, his eyes meeting hers for a solemn moment. "Or-I can stay here with you, or you can accompany me. It would be safer if we stick together, but I would prefer not to expose you to an additional potential threat."

There was the feeling of impotence again, of being a burden. This was not the kind of setting where Eva would ever have anticipated its unwelcome presence but it was familiar enough to be immediately recognisable. Never enough of one thing, far too much of another; various discourse regarding her value had mostly been reinterpreted in her head since very early in her childhood but no matter what Eva thought others thought of her, she had made a damn good performance out of pretending she didn't care. She didn't need looking after, had spent over a decade proving that to everyone but herself, and certainly didn't need anyone to feel obligated to make her a priority. Needing anyone had been exactly the source of weakness she had burned perfectly good relationships to avoid. He shouldn't have been worrying about her.

Insecurity churned in her stomach and left her furious, bitter with self-recrimination and unable to meet his eyes.

"You go." Without shoes on, without a way of seeing well enough in the dark to make a decent target out of anything, no amount of sulking was going to change the fact that he would move faster, quieter and with more precision if he was alone.

He gave her shoulder a single squeeze and nodded. "I shall be back as quickly as I can," tried to assure, soft.

Once alone, Eva permitted herself a moment of snarling self-loathing before reliable stubbornness kicked in and forced the burning moisture pooling in her eyes to disperse across her lashes and then cease to be an issue. Glancing around the cubicle, she then ventured to its opening and tentatively peered into the gloom, trying but failing to track Hiram's movements. Guilt made a predictable entrance, followed by resignation and fresh resolve. Maybe she couldn't be much help in eradicating their threat, but she could at least try to find them a decent escape that made use of his plan to infiltrate the group of hostages. Staying low, she picked her way carefully in the opposite direction to the one he'd taken, weaving in and out of the sporadic layout as a haphazard beeline towards the opposite wall. Every few cubicles she stopped, stared into the darkness and strained her ears for any sign that he'd located whatever it was skulking in the shadows. He moved too silently, too efficiently, and had that not made her feel quite so abandoned, Eva might have found a quiet moment to marvel at his stealth.

Inhaling deeply, and then releasing the breath as a shuddering exhalation, Eva slunk back into the main corridor.

Use the blackout to our advantage, he says.

There was no one there to notice but Eva rolled her eyes anyway, finding it far more likely that the illumination from the city's power grid would have made the task of avoiding obstacles so much easier even if it did leave them more open to discovery. The space towards the back was less decorated, reliant on the half-hearted twinkle of poorly strung fairylights across the back of one of the cubicles to provide any lighting. Having stopped once more to listen for him, and checking for the umpteenth time that her disruptor was ready to fire if needed, Eva rounded a corner, took several steps, and walked right into something blocking the path.

Not something. Someone.

She didn't scream, life had taught her better than that. She didn't run either, because training had taught her that, at point-blank range, that only rendered her more vulnerable. She didn't shoot either, because confusion and a flash of green stayed her hand just long enough to benefit from the exhilarated rush of relief that came from really wanting to punch a friend. "Would it kill you to say something!" Her hissed words reeked of adrenaline but Eva composed herself quickly before the urge to scream obscenities at him kicked in. She could barely make out his outline but craned her head to the side to peer over what she judged to be his shoulder. "I think if we take that flight of stairs and then the next, we'll end up on the floor where all the action happens. Did you find anything?"

A prickle at the back of her mind, an ice-cold trickle of uncertainty, registered the silence that she had been so busy occupying that she didn't realise its emptiness.

"Hiram? Hello? Bad guys? Anything?"

The suddenness of the light, such an intrusion in the otherwise shapeless dark, forced the startled woman to screw her face up and turn her head to the side. It registered far too late that it was accompanied by a recognisable yet alien whirr as the intrusive beam shifted left by several inches to bounce off the cubicle wall. The eyepiece it originated from covered what was predictably an iris of iridescent blue if its symmetry with the remaining visible eye could be trusted, and may have been the most alarming feature of the grotesquely familiar features had the tubes encompassing his head not resembled coiled tentacles in the over-exposed light. There was no emotion in his face, not even a hint of recognition, and Eva realised too late what the glint of metal in his hand meant.

The disruptor fell, slipping from fingertips that shook violently from the spear's impact.

An explosive movement occurred from behind her, and the apparent nature of the scene began to right itself in full, luxuriating-mindless repose. The silhouette behind her was tall and thin and unencumbered, and it launched forward, aiming the serrated end of his spear right into the creature's chest cavity with all the strength and momentum that a flat out sprint could provide the real Hiram-with only a stuttered moments' consideration to reflect on the nature of himself as a Borg drone. He didn't pause in his assault even as the drone adapted, and Eva was-though chaos and confusion warred heavily for any semblance of comprehension of the moment-privy to watching two people far more machine than man locked in a stagnant battle. Hiram moved fast, inhumanly so, aiming with the heel of his foot to vulnerable areas of the Borg's body and striking with palms, elbows and knees to gain the upper hand. This wasn't martial arts, it wasn't sporting. It was designed to kill. And if the creature had been alive, Hiram would be well on his way to annihilating it.

Were anyone inclined to ignore Eva's recent inner monologue regarding her worth and actually consider the blatant disregard for her well-being offensive, one might have been further outraged by the creature's callous backwards thrust, wrenching spear from flesh and sinew with a sickening squelch that very nearly drowned out her scream of agony. That it then chose to kick her firmly in the abdomen as an efficient means of clearing an obstacle would have left very little room for objectivity, if a person was so inclined to dismiss the brunette's assertions that nobody should have to worry about her. The facsimile of her friend seemed to agree, instantly ignoring her to deal with the far more present threat of imminent decapitation from the greater of two opponents. It had picked off the weakest link first, perhaps merely to antagonise the other, which betrayed a savage sort of intelligence that didn't seem to mesh with the vacant-eyed, robotic retaliation. Its flailing limbs, whilst capable of making considerable impact if accurate, also proved unhindered by the increasing damage to the drone's carapace.

"Eva, can you get up?" Hiram called to her, as though he weren't distracted by fighting himself-Calnin would have had a field day with this, but if it isn't one thing, it's your mother. But Hiram didn't have a mother. And he was frankly over this. He broke the drone's connection to Eva, using the moment it had tried to lash out at her once more to pin its leg to the ground with his own, crunching bone under foot. He spun backwards, pilfering her forgotten disruptor off the ground and firing it at the drone over and over again as it advanced.

Somewhere in the annals of a system that had outgrown its function, something seemed to get the message that playtime was over. The drone took more disruptor damage than it ought, chunks of exoskeleton separating from the torso as its busted leg left it only capable of half-hearted swipes from a lopsided vantage. A final shot exposed the matrix beneath the overlay, a vivid shade of red instead of the more-typical azure blue, and then it was gone. Not destroyed but gone. A non-event. A memory, nothing more.

Can you get up?

Propped up against the cubicle wall where she'd stumbled and eventually succumbed to her body's preference for sitting down, Eva barely heard the question through the cacophony of adrenaline roaring in her ears. She was cold, but her left side was burning, and she felt...wet. Was it raining?

"I don't think...the safeties...are working."

Her tone was whimsical, distant, detached.

"No, I don't think so," Hiram caught her and gently helped lower her to the ground, pressing two fingers at her neck and looking up at the ceiling to count it off. His Synapse was still functioning, but the pair and the dermal regenerator were splintered in the prior conflict, laying strewn across the concrete floor in unusable twisted fragments of metal.

There was still a first-aid kit in his bag and he withdrew it, unzipping its compartments to spread out everything in front of him. "I'm going to give you something to help you relax," he met her eyes, picking up her hand to squeeze her fingers before snapping a hypo cartridge into one of the spare jet injectors and depressing it against her neck. It was Ambizine, enough to stop her from thrashing about and take the edge off of the pain, before he cut off her shirt to survey the damage he was working with.

She was very quickly going into hypovolemic shock-narrow pulse pressure, tachypnea, oliguria-blood welled up and oozed out of the open wound in slow, thick streams, coating Hiram's hands as he applied as much packing and pressure as he could. Loading her with antibiotics was the second best option which he followed suit with promptly. He wasn't going to be able to fix this here-all he could do was prolong her life as long as possible until he could transport her back to the Rosie.

The air around them sweltered with lines of heat, the smell of ozone and sand burning in Hiram's nostrils. Smoke and fire. "Hey-Eva," he jammed his two fingers into her sternum, generating enough of a jolt of pain to prevent her from closing her eyes. "That's it, I know it is annoying, but you need to stay awake for me, OK?" He barred his arms, using most of his strength to apply as much pressure as he could using the thick strips of gauze he'd stripped from his kit.

It was the second time, according to her addled mind, that he'd struck out at her and the resulting pain had been enough to leave her vision speckled with dozens of tiny little festive lights. One minute he was stabbing her, the next minute he was giving her things that made the furniture float and now he was... Dark eyes, the blackest they'd ever been despite a tendency to alter shade with her mood, stared vacantly at him. Though she hadn't quite figured out what had brought him so close, it at least made his face easier to focus on. The tubes were gone. A good thing, since they'd made him look like a complete twat.

"You never told me about yours."

Thought fragments twisted and glittered as the tiny spotlight that was her ability to remain conscious flitted from shard to shard in search of something relevant. Chronologically, she was unfettered, unable to grasp any concept of the passage of time between conversations and, thus, the treasure chest that contained him lay strewn about her mind, a toddler's playroom of memories scattered out of place.

"I did not tell you about what, hm?" Hiram prompted her, keeping her talking as long as he could as his gaze darted around the room to try and find something useful to hook onto. He didn't anticipate being able to move Eva without seriously compromising her, and he rifled through the remainder of the medical components, clicking on a white penlight to survey the wound in greater detail. The more blood soaked the compression pads, the faster Hiram switched them out and packed them in like a fevered dance.

His hands passed over some stasis gel and he ripped open the packet, letting out a slow exhale that in anyone else might've been relief. It wouldn't fix the problem, but it would prevent her from bleeding out all over the floor. Time was of the essence, and he unpacked the wound as quickly as he could before drawing the stasis strip down over the wound. It didn't cover it fully, but where it glowed, the blood slowly stopped flowing. Arrested in place. He focused on mopping up the rest of the exposed edges.

"Your love life. I know I didn't really talk about mine but there's not much to say." As her voice floated, its natural husk became more pronounced, a drowsy rich timbre no less singsong for its alto. "Met a guy, he turned out to be a jerk. Met a girl, met another guy, met another guy, another girl..." Her laughter carried the disjointed mania of incoherence without any of the vigor. "I'm good at meeting people."

Hiram let out a low huff that might have been a laugh in any other circumstance, but he braced her arm over her chest to help conserve her warmth, giving her forearm a squeeze. "I met a guy," he agreed, soft. It wasn't often Hiram spoke about his personal life-it was so much easier to lie, or hedge. But he wanted her to keep talking, to keep her awake, and the sound of his voice seemed to be accomplishing this task thus far. "His name was Rael." He pronounced it rah-yell, a purposefully correct intonation that came from auditory perfectionism and the desire not to mangle other people's designations. "We worked together."

"What happened?" It was testament to her innate curiosity, normally very forcefully tempered by an intentional sense of moderation, that Eva managed to focus beyond her current situation to wonder at his. "Was he a jerk too?" Breathless huffs passed as laughter once more, though this time the effort hurt her and she winced. "Probably not, I think they're all reserved for me."

"No," Hiram smiled, gentle. "He was sweet. Vulcan," he added, as if that explained things. "We had a very positive relationship. We were simply... incompatible," he tapped his temple, indicating psionics. "Try and stay still," he directed her, still moving idly in the background and checking her pulse and temperature. He prepped another hypo, this one a cardiac booster. He consulted his communicator again, checking the signal, but it was still too weak to offer a chance at contacting the Rosie. Hiram was considering how feasible it would be to carry her out of here.

"Vulcan."

Her tone, the weak huff of almost-laughter, was so ambiguous that it could have been that Eva was just repeating the word to confirm it. In the vague silence that followed, however, something appeared to cause her mild distress, enough that her drowsy features crumpled into a tentative frown that left her battling to keep her eyes open. This time, it wasn't intervention from Hiram that snapped her awake again but the sudden intrusion of distant commotion. To add to her confusion, the floor beneath her shook, as did the wall propping her up, and from the sound of objects hitting the floor around them, the tremor was not isolated. It was over before either could properly register it and make provisions to avoid further injury, so truly over that cessation arrived as a complete and total shut down of the program entirely. Just like that, they were alone within the criss-cross matrix of holo-beams, a stark and sterile environment marred only by the very-real and thus impossible-to-delete pool of blood that seemed far too much for one petite body to sacrifice.

The change in ambience was harsh and Eva's features protested by screwing themselves into a squinted grimace that once again coaxed her eyes shut. She was fading, fighting with a champion's spirit, but slowly losing nonetheless. The disappearance of any supportive structure left her upright only by Hiram's direct assistance but his proximity only added comfort and warmth to the temptation to sleep. She murmured something, on the cusp of comprehension, and then sighed.

Immediately Hiram's communicator kicked to life, but he ignored it in favor of making sure she was stable on the ground. "This is Maitland to Rosie. Medical emergency transport directly to sickbay, energize!" he called, and a swirl of glowing lights took her up, up and away. It wasn't long before her mind receded like waves off of a shoreline, and the inky darkness of sleep overtook her to the commotion of Hiram slamming his hand into the pad of the surgical suite, getting her onto a grav-cart and wheeling her inside. Everything disappeared.