All Things Possible

Posted on Mon Dec 11th, 2023 @ 9:44am by Dr. Izriel "Jaxx" Lonn & Captain Rueben Gregnol
Edited on on Mon Dec 18th, 2023 @ 2:07am

Mission: Fractures
Location: Lounge, SS Mary Rose
Timeline: Future Fracture
3254 words - 6.5 OF Standard Post Measure

There had been a time when her bar had been one of the most reliably populated of all the communal spaces on board. Eva had worked hard at that, of course, had thrown herself into the second chance with as much tenacity as the first time around but a far clearer head for it. Being able to accommodate a few sofas instead of chairs had softened the ambience, allowed for more casual group dynamics that encouraged lingering, though the success of the single microphone in the corner and the extensive amount of work she'd put into the sound system did its best to obliterate any sense of relaxation at least a couple of times a week. They were a crew who had taken quite well to karaoke, once they'd all lowered their expectations on what a successful rendition actually sounded like.

It had been warm, and welcoming and she had felt connected for the first time in...ever.

It was difficult now to sit and remember the chatter. They'd been on high alert for such a long time now that anyone who did visit normally slunk in as if guilty for indulging in recreation. Gathering together was still too painful, there were too many empty chairs and lives blown apart by the sudden silence. Any music she could play was at such a low volume that it required an absence of conversation to really notice, and even then, most of the time it was just too risky. They moved through the sector as a thief would, running on minimal power to preserve it and reduce their presence on long-range scanners, slinking from checkpoint to checkpoint as the supply runs became mercy dashes. The region was at war and their side wasn't doing so great. She could have gone home.

She already was home.

Faced once again with an empty bar, Eva curled into the corner of the sofa closest to the viewport and stared out at the streaks of light. Several people had tried to convince her to leave, had pointed out the lack of necessity of a bartender risking her life in a situation where her job was basically redundant. She'd been accused of stubbornness on the matter but there was nothing comforting about the idea of returning to Earth to worry and fret about the fate of people who actually mattered to her. It wasn't about common sense anymore; it was about family.

Gregnol walked into the bar and stopped surveying where Eva sat. The memory of the vibrant times aboard the SS Mary Rose haunted him like a ghost ship adrift in the shadows of war. The bar, once a haven of warmth and camaraderie, now echoed with the haunting absence of laughter and song. The karaoke machine, a bittersweet reminder of lives irreversibly altered, the microphone standing like a silent witness to the losses suffered by him and everyone who remained onboard. “Hey.” He finally offered in greeting.

Her head swivelled to meet him, otherwise undisturbed from its propped up vantage against her palm. It wasn't unusual for him to put in an appearance at this time, well beyond any sensible hour to seeking distraction at the bottom of a glass. It had started out that way, at least, and she hadn't begrudged him the solace of private self-destruction, having been there far too many times herself to comfortably recount. There hadn't been a lot of discussion back in the early days, just an understanding, a shared grief from different aspects but with much the same impact. It had taken consistency, and the recognition of unhealthy patterns in the Captain's behaviour for Eva to finally decide her conscience wasn't going to let her turn a blind eye. Conversation had been sparse at first, but they had both been mutually abysmal enough at chess to chip away at the ice. They'd had better luck with poker, unexpected success in her attempts to teach him guitar, and utterly astonishing synergy once, after months of tediously slow healing, they found in each other something neither would have had a chance in hell of predicting a year earlier. Eva still didn't know what to make of it, they'd been too apprehensive to label it. He just...came around often, as much as the situation allowed at any rate, and they...

...tried.

"Hey yourself." There was warmth, at least, friendship. That more than anything else had become vital. Watching him for a moment, the seconds it took to adjust to the intimacy that settled into place any time they managed this time alone, Eva smiled fondly. "We doing okay?" She asked it every time, a habit born out of distrust for life's whims.

Gregnol inclined his head as he thought about her question. The war has turned his once-bustling vessel into a ghostly, silent one that traverse through hostile sectors but were they doing okay? He could not claim to know.. He glanced around and sighed, the empty chairs, like spectres, lingered in the corners, each one a painful reminder of the lives shattered. “It was certainly a better day.” He finally answered as he came into the room and sat on one of the couches nearby.

She could always tell what kind of day he'd had by where he chose to sit. He never sought immediate proximity unless things were bad, far more reserved in his affection when the stakes were at an even keel. It had been challenging to navigate at first but they had established an unorthodox set of boundaries, a sense of connection without label. Eva unwound her legs from their tangle and rose, knowing well enough her part at this particular juncture. She moved to the bar and returned with both drinks.

"There didn't seem to be many interruptions," she noted, sinking back into her seat opposite him once she'd handed over his whiskey. Interruptions were a diplomatic way of referencing the ongoing skirmishes they inevitably got involved in; passage through the sector was competitive and if you managed to avoid the warring fleets, you had other small-bit traders vying for a bigger slice of the pie.

"Twice but Kali got around them easy enough." He said fondly. The Romulan was another constant on the ship that he had grown fond of especially her way to get through space. It was like watching a magical sometime. "Thank you." He soothed, caressing her hand as he took the glass. The war had claimed everything and everyone, including his kin—the brother-in-law he once confided in who would have been able to pick him up in the mess, and his beloved wife, who brought solace in the chaos. It sometimes felt like the early silent days of SS Mary Rose without her. "How has your day been?" He asked moving his mind from thoughts of ghosts to the woman there and then.

Curling back into the corner of her own seat, Eva offered him a rueful smile and a hunched shoulder. "Nothing remarkable." That seemed, at least in this day and age, to be the closest thing to a good day any of them could muster. "Curtis told me I had potential today, so that's an improvement." The amusement in her voice carried an element of fondness for the morose Operations worker, who approached the daily struggle to keep main systems online with about as much grace and optimism as a dead fly. Part of the self-imposed conditions of her staying on board, however, were to pick up the slack in other areas of the ship where she could be most useful. Running the bar part-time was necessary for crew morale but they were too short-staffed, she'd argued, for her to just stand there all day. Playing to her other strengths, finally utilising her uncanny affinity for numbers and patterns to work on software maintenance, was an irony not lost on anyone. It had taken a life on the brink of oblivion for her to finally step into the potential her father had wanted her to make use of all these years.

“That’s a major comment from Curtis.” Gregnol assured over his drink. His operations chief barely commented on anything anymore let alone mention it to the woman and mention it to the captain himself. “High praise.” He added setting the drink down.

"I think he's just surprised I haven't blown anything up yet." She didn't dislike the guy, understood that like everyone else, he had lost a lot. There wasn't a whole lot of malice to his sullen nature and, in a universe suddenly full of vicious intent, that meant something.

“Give yourself some credit here. You do well, you are an asset to the ship.” He said quietly not quite looking at her but his words were the truth. He did not lie, never found a need for it but he knew she needed to hear it from him just as much as from anyone else. “Everyone is damaged in one way or another from this war but we are trying.”

It hadn't been Eva's intent to fish for compliments, having meant her remark as more an observation of Curtis' tendency to expect the worst of everything. She hesitated, her capacity to interpret the underlying ebb and flow of emotion significantly improved from her time away in search of a treatment that actually worked. There were days where Rueben was so distant, so absent, that it seemed impossible it wasn't the start of him pulling away entirely. Then he'd turn up, like this, almost apologetic and the spiral continued. Eva didn't know if it was healthy, had never been a great judge of that in the first place, but it wasn't unwanted. He wasn't unwanted. She smiled faintly at him. "We have a Captain who puts his faith in us, it's not surprising most of us don't want to let him down."

"I think you all put greater faith in me." He replied without a hint of irony. He was the one making the choices and someone people had always followed him even when he had been in Starfleet it had been a thing but now it was just more high stake. He had offered many times to leave people somewhere safe and to carry on his personal mission with minimal crew but people still stayed. "And I very much do not want to let anyone down."

Over a sip of her own drink, Eva regarded the besieged Captain thoughtfully. Now that the first few moments had passed, there had been time enough to gauge what version of the fractured man had shown up and how best to get him through the night in one piece. In this reflective, communicative mood, it was probably the easiest, if only because it tended to play to Evahnae's own strengths. Quietly, she rose, understanding now that her physical presence wouldn't be construed as an intrusion, and lowered herself into the seat beside him to lean her head against his arm. Simple comforts, they mattered. "And you don't, we've been over this."

The man shifted quietly against her and nodded. He was fully aware that he did not but the thought was only a heartbeat away from becoming a reality in his mind. One wrong step into a zone they should not or one wrong word to someone and they were slaves or dead. “I know. I do.” He assured.

He was a difficult man to read, not just because Eva herself was adjusting to an improvement in her own telepathic focus. Years of living with a full-blooded Betazoid had gifted Rhueben every trick in the book for evasive emotional expression and it had been the work of a rather intricate amount of educated guesses for the most part to reach a point where she could read between his lines. At the very least, he was consistent, and a spike in indecision usually only meant one thing.

"Let me guess, another passenger transport." Cargo was one thing; valuable and coveted but expendable up to a point. You didn't risk your entire crew for a few cases of bandages, not if it came down to an actual stand-off and the people pointing their weapons at you really, really wanted them. People were a different matter. Offering passage was far more profitable but almost always came with increased risk given that they only people who could afford Gregnol's asking price were wealthy enough to also be important. It didn't happen very often but, occasionally, either because ship repairs demanded the income or because the dignitary in question was bound for a mission worth the potential catastrophe, they wound up in this situation. Things were about to get much more dangerous.

Reuben leaned over and picked up his glass. He swirled the liquid before he nodded. “Of course.” He knew she would understand without hesitation why his mood was so low despite the day having been a success. “One I cannot resist to say the least.” The job was not about the credits it would bring but about the moral obligation he had to the passengers.

The bartender sighed at the resignation in his tone. When the chips were down, the feisty brunette had proven particularly pragmatic about accepting life's bullshit and, though prone to beating herself up quietly, didn't often project a pessimistic outlook if she could manage it. Nothing about their situation was particularly desirable but it was necessary and it served a greater purpose, which was exactly what most of the remaining crew had signed up for. It was certainly why she'd opted to stick around.

A hand settled over his and slipped its fingers between to gently squeeze. "Long trip? Short trip? Asteroid belt again?" There was a pause. "Asteroid belt again. Oh boy. Well," Eva suggested brightly, "At least we have the most successful pilot for navigating that region at our helm. She's got us through twice, third time's the charm."

The older man appreciated her attempting to get him to open up and squeezed her hand back bring it up to his chest. “Long asteroid belt trip. We need to do this but I know Kali can do it. She’s the best pilot I’ve had at the helm.” He said soothing his own fractured thoughts on it all. He hated to admit it that he needed the people here onboard to keep things going but he slept at night knowing they all were there on their own whims and needs and not his.

Turning just enough to tuck herself into his side, Eva closed her eyes and allowed the inevitable reverie to persist peacefully. These trips were easily the worst, had a history of costing them the most, and tended to dredge up a lot of unpleasant memories for the crew even when they did ultimately get across the finish line successfully. Those who remained were loyal, either to the Captain or the cause or both, and so there was never any complaint but every fresh attempt chipped away at morale. In the absence of a dedicated mental health expert on board, Eva often found herself the only viable option, or at least the single voice of reason between a bunch of distraught survivors and their attempts to self-medicate. She'd been down that road. It wasn't an answer.

In quite typical fashion, she eventually sank into their warm silence deep enough to doze a little and only stirred when her pillow suddenly animated and jostled her awake. Blearily, she blinked her eyes open and drew in a long breath through her nose. "What is it?" Another flutter of her eyelashes brought better focus and then it became not so much a case of what, but who.

The man standing in the middle of the room looked utterly baffled, yet somewhat resigned, all tinged with a hint of desperation. "Rueben." His voice was hoarse and he grimaced, squinting as if warding off a headache. "What year this time?"

Gregnol had been considering his thoughts when he had seen the figure appear out of nothing in front of him. If he had not been staring right at the spot he would have missed it but he hustled to hit feet looking in confusion at someone he had seen die years ago. “2404. You are dead?” His hand went to the phaser he wore permanently at his belt and raised it.

"Seems to be the trend," Izriel observed dryly, holding his hands outwards, palms-up, to indicate a lack of ability to cause a threat. The Betazoid's eyes drifted sideways to the unfamiliar woman who rose to stand beside his old friend, caught off-guard by the obvious telepathic presence from someone who bore no resemblance to who he would have expected to find cosied up to the ship's Captain. A sense of urgency brought his attention back to Gregnol, however, and the need to explain in haste before there was no opportunity to. "Temporal issues, I'm currently on an unscheduled vacation through time." The telepath released the shaky breath he'd been holding. "And things are starting to speed up."

Gregnol did not lower the phaser but he did glance back to the woman next to him as he saw how off guard the man was. It would be the reaction that he expected but he did not at all lower his guard. He had seen dead friends before used to trick him and many others. “She died as did you and many others.” Gregnol said slowly.

The information hit differently. Life was fleeting, that was the one consistent, and it wasn't necessarily unusual to find that the scope of potential calamity on board Rueben's ship was vast and chaotic, but something just felt off about the grandiose nature of all the changes in circumstance Jaxx kept experiencing. Was it too much to ask that he land in a reality not very different to his own where things were relatively pleasant and his friends weren't dead in one way or another? "I'm sorry." The words were hollow though the empathy in the Betazoid's eyes was genuine. "What happened?" It was a dangerous question, one that he shouldn't be asking, but it was becoming too much to expect him not to get involved in preventing some of this loss.

Gregnol knew he should not say anything there were so many rules around time travel that he really should say nothing but if this was real and… well what harm could it do to give a hint. A hint was nothing just a warning of what was to come. “Nyx and the darkness.” He said quickly before Eva could say anything to stop him.

It made no immediate sense but then Izriel couldn't exactly claim expert knowledge on the ship and its history. A glance confirmed the slip of the woman's hand into his friend's, a squeeze of reassurance and tired empathy. For a brief moment, the pair of telepaths locked eyes and Jaxx understood then at least a little of her motivation. He smiled faintly and inclined his head in understanding, only to open his mouth and attempt, "I will..."

Eva stared at the empty space where he had stood.

"What just happened?"

"Ghosts." The man answered leaning over to his glass and took the rest down in one gulp which made him wince. Only echoes of the past that they had lost.