Post by Durmas on Mar 19, 2010 12:58:02 GMT -5
Durmas looks out the bay windows of the lounge. The clear blue-green color of Earth seemed almost serene when placed against the backdrop of space, the stars winking and twinkling in the distance. Durmas almost allowed himself a moment to appreciate that the Earth should always be viewed like this, but he knew better than to get sentimental. If he allowed himself to be sentimental, then the jagged scar that reached across the right side of his nose and down his cheek would start to ache. If it started to ache, then he might be reminded why everyone was gathered here. If he was reminded of that, then he might remember a time so long ago. And, if he remembered THAT...then he probably lose his mind for good.
He took one more drink and continued staring. Not bad for old-fashioned Bourbon made from a replicator patttern, Durmas thought to himself. He didn't drink very often but the memorial service for Lieutenant Commander Hart's crewmember had left an odd feeling behind. Twice, he found himself during the ceremony thinking about...well, trying NOT to think, actually. The scar on his face throbbed and pulsed dully the entire time. Durmas wasn't sure if he was crying or not, much less if those tears would have been from the memorial service or the pain in his face. After they had filed into the Lounge at the end of the ceremony, everyone seemed to break off into smaller groups around the room, and Durmas headed straight to the bar. He wasn't very fond of alcohol and really preferred not to dull his senses with it. Coffee was usually the safe bet. Tonight however, he felt he needed things dulled. Dulled a lot. Walking up to the bar, he ordered a drink and noticed all the staff officers that were surrounding him.
"Too much brass can spoil good Bourbon", he muttered as he picked up his drink and made his way from the crush at the bar. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glance at Captain Dace and the baleful look Dace was leveling at him. He allowed himself a smirk as he walked off to a quieter section of the lounge. At least something had gone right this evening. Captain Mathias Sadi was there with one of Daedalus' new recruits. Durmas walked up to them and made some small talk. At one point, Captain Sadi moved off to towards the bar, leaving Durmas and the new recruit alone to continue talking. After a few further light-hearted words passed, the recruit excused herself and Durmas found himself alone and staring out the windows.
He took another drink and tried to force himself not to think about the pulsating ache his scar was screaming about. Behind him, he could hear raised voices and words spoken in argument. After a few minutes of listening, he recognized those voices as belonging to Captain Dace and Captain Sadi. Durmas allowed himself a chuckle and brought his attention back to the viewing port. Captain Sadi could take care of himself and by the sounds of it, he was winning hands-down anyway.
Durmas continued to stare at the stars flickering in the expanse, resisting the urge to rub at his scar. One star in particular seemed to be blinking really fast. The tiny speck of light seemed to flicker and pulse...getting larger and brighter...flashing and winking, looking almost like...
*Sparks flew from the ruined panels...the air was hot and steamy from the plasma coolers as they struggled to keep that bright ball of fiery hell contained just a little longer. He couldn't see...but she was near. The floor under his tattered boots shook and buckled from the assault. It was only a matter of time now until one of the torpedoes found its mark. He tried to contact them, but they never stopped.
Running...he can't see. His nose burned and stung with the smell of near-molten metal from the overloading core and the fires of battle.
Running...he didn't want to die here, not like this. His ruined boots slapped against the heaving floor as he turned a into another smoke-steam filled corridor...and there she was. A thick, thorn covered vine-whip lashed from her hand and his vision exploded in white-hot shards of grayish green glass...*
Durmas jumped slightly. The drink in his hand was almost finished, just a swallow or two left. He looked around and saw that most of the others had left, and only Matias, Doctor Orkney, and Jordan remained at the bar. Turning back to the window, he offered a toast to the vision outside the port. 'Almost got me that time...' he thought, then tossed the rest of the drink down. Walking back to the bar, he put on his best grin and put the glass down. Its coffee for the rest of the night. He held up two fingers and turned around while he waited for the mug to appear.
"Where'd the brass go?", Durmas inquired. Doctor Orkney and Mathias responded that almost everyone had left. Durmas turned and sipped from his mug, listening quietly while Laurel and Mathias resumed their conversation. Both of them were voicing their concerns and views on the Admiral-candidates for the fleet. Durmas nodded when he felt it appropriate, interjected a comment or remark when it was needed, but otherwise thought of it as more small talk. Not that he had been impressed with the candidates himself, anyway.
"So...Doctor", Durmas asked, as the topic drew down, "How...uh...is Commander Hart holding up?" He genuinely felt for Karl, even though he knew him very little. The incident involving him and the Europa occured within days of Durmas joining the fleet, and Karl had been in the hospital almost the entire time.
"He's doing well...considering the circumstances" Laurel replied, "I'm wondering if he would like me to see about removing those scars from his face." Durmas' ears tingled a little when he heard that. He looked up and met Laurel's eyes, focused directly at him. What that meant for him?
"Well, he might not go for the Dermal Replacement therapy, Doctor", Commander Jordan spoke up, "Maybe he wants to keep something as a reminder".
Durmas glanced out of the corner of his eye at Jordan, missing what Doctor Orkney said. He glanced back at Laurel and found she was still staring right at him. She said something about memories.
'Commander,' Durmas thought, 'Remind me to buy you a drink sometime.' He picked up his mug and took a long drink from it. Coffee always did help when his face ached. He continued staring at Laurel over the rim, then brought it back down. Go easy...she's just wondering, and she's a friend.
Still staring in the center of hes face, Durmas said "If I were you, I'd worry more about the scars on the inside first". Laurel blinked then, turning her face away and looking at Captain Mathias because he said something then. Durmas didn't quite catch all of it, as a voice whispered in his ear of a long-forgotten poem;
"And Travellers now within that Valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody;
While, like a rapid ghastly river,
Through the pale door,
A hideous throng rush out forever,
And laugh-but smile no more."
Durmas blinked rapidly a few times. A creeping realization that he had just spoken that out loud was becoming apparent as Laurel, Mathias and Jordan both stared intently at him now.
"Wow...there's an oldey", Durmas said with a sheepish grin. His face began to throb once more as he wondered how he was going to talk his way out of this one. That hit just a little too close to home. It was Edgar A. Poe's "The Haunted Place", and it was that guy's favorite poem.
'Kitchner, you damn Mick', Durmas thought to himself 'You always were a little wierd'.
He took one more drink and continued staring. Not bad for old-fashioned Bourbon made from a replicator patttern, Durmas thought to himself. He didn't drink very often but the memorial service for Lieutenant Commander Hart's crewmember had left an odd feeling behind. Twice, he found himself during the ceremony thinking about...well, trying NOT to think, actually. The scar on his face throbbed and pulsed dully the entire time. Durmas wasn't sure if he was crying or not, much less if those tears would have been from the memorial service or the pain in his face. After they had filed into the Lounge at the end of the ceremony, everyone seemed to break off into smaller groups around the room, and Durmas headed straight to the bar. He wasn't very fond of alcohol and really preferred not to dull his senses with it. Coffee was usually the safe bet. Tonight however, he felt he needed things dulled. Dulled a lot. Walking up to the bar, he ordered a drink and noticed all the staff officers that were surrounding him.
"Too much brass can spoil good Bourbon", he muttered as he picked up his drink and made his way from the crush at the bar. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glance at Captain Dace and the baleful look Dace was leveling at him. He allowed himself a smirk as he walked off to a quieter section of the lounge. At least something had gone right this evening. Captain Mathias Sadi was there with one of Daedalus' new recruits. Durmas walked up to them and made some small talk. At one point, Captain Sadi moved off to towards the bar, leaving Durmas and the new recruit alone to continue talking. After a few further light-hearted words passed, the recruit excused herself and Durmas found himself alone and staring out the windows.
He took another drink and tried to force himself not to think about the pulsating ache his scar was screaming about. Behind him, he could hear raised voices and words spoken in argument. After a few minutes of listening, he recognized those voices as belonging to Captain Dace and Captain Sadi. Durmas allowed himself a chuckle and brought his attention back to the viewing port. Captain Sadi could take care of himself and by the sounds of it, he was winning hands-down anyway.
Durmas continued to stare at the stars flickering in the expanse, resisting the urge to rub at his scar. One star in particular seemed to be blinking really fast. The tiny speck of light seemed to flicker and pulse...getting larger and brighter...flashing and winking, looking almost like...
*Sparks flew from the ruined panels...the air was hot and steamy from the plasma coolers as they struggled to keep that bright ball of fiery hell contained just a little longer. He couldn't see...but she was near. The floor under his tattered boots shook and buckled from the assault. It was only a matter of time now until one of the torpedoes found its mark. He tried to contact them, but they never stopped.
Running...he can't see. His nose burned and stung with the smell of near-molten metal from the overloading core and the fires of battle.
Running...he didn't want to die here, not like this. His ruined boots slapped against the heaving floor as he turned a into another smoke-steam filled corridor...and there she was. A thick, thorn covered vine-whip lashed from her hand and his vision exploded in white-hot shards of grayish green glass...*
Durmas jumped slightly. The drink in his hand was almost finished, just a swallow or two left. He looked around and saw that most of the others had left, and only Matias, Doctor Orkney, and Jordan remained at the bar. Turning back to the window, he offered a toast to the vision outside the port. 'Almost got me that time...' he thought, then tossed the rest of the drink down. Walking back to the bar, he put on his best grin and put the glass down. Its coffee for the rest of the night. He held up two fingers and turned around while he waited for the mug to appear.
"Where'd the brass go?", Durmas inquired. Doctor Orkney and Mathias responded that almost everyone had left. Durmas turned and sipped from his mug, listening quietly while Laurel and Mathias resumed their conversation. Both of them were voicing their concerns and views on the Admiral-candidates for the fleet. Durmas nodded when he felt it appropriate, interjected a comment or remark when it was needed, but otherwise thought of it as more small talk. Not that he had been impressed with the candidates himself, anyway.
"So...Doctor", Durmas asked, as the topic drew down, "How...uh...is Commander Hart holding up?" He genuinely felt for Karl, even though he knew him very little. The incident involving him and the Europa occured within days of Durmas joining the fleet, and Karl had been in the hospital almost the entire time.
"He's doing well...considering the circumstances" Laurel replied, "I'm wondering if he would like me to see about removing those scars from his face." Durmas' ears tingled a little when he heard that. He looked up and met Laurel's eyes, focused directly at him. What that meant for him?
"Well, he might not go for the Dermal Replacement therapy, Doctor", Commander Jordan spoke up, "Maybe he wants to keep something as a reminder".
Durmas glanced out of the corner of his eye at Jordan, missing what Doctor Orkney said. He glanced back at Laurel and found she was still staring right at him. She said something about memories.
'Commander,' Durmas thought, 'Remind me to buy you a drink sometime.' He picked up his mug and took a long drink from it. Coffee always did help when his face ached. He continued staring at Laurel over the rim, then brought it back down. Go easy...she's just wondering, and she's a friend.
Still staring in the center of hes face, Durmas said "If I were you, I'd worry more about the scars on the inside first". Laurel blinked then, turning her face away and looking at Captain Mathias because he said something then. Durmas didn't quite catch all of it, as a voice whispered in his ear of a long-forgotten poem;
"And Travellers now within that Valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody;
While, like a rapid ghastly river,
Through the pale door,
A hideous throng rush out forever,
And laugh-but smile no more."
Durmas blinked rapidly a few times. A creeping realization that he had just spoken that out loud was becoming apparent as Laurel, Mathias and Jordan both stared intently at him now.
"Wow...there's an oldey", Durmas said with a sheepish grin. His face began to throb once more as he wondered how he was going to talk his way out of this one. That hit just a little too close to home. It was Edgar A. Poe's "The Haunted Place", and it was that guy's favorite poem.
'Kitchner, you damn Mick', Durmas thought to himself 'You always were a little wierd'.