Star Trek: Erin

Part 55: Mellowed

     An arrival surprised me the next day.

     Gabriel.

     Offhand, Leong mentioned that a shuttle was arriving, and Nowak managed to confirm the occupants—using his weight as a lieutenant—before it landed. So I was waiting in the antechamber as the airlock opened, fidgeting with my hands. True to her word so long ago, she'd given me a bottle of polish of a more muted shade than her usual bright red, closer to old rose. The stuff was damn durable. I'd used to wear polish back on Glock V, before the Academy, but training for Starfleet meant it chipped after half a day, and I'd stopped. I loved being able to again. In a way, it made me feel a bit more complete.

     My first look at Gabriel made me shift my weight back. The gaze she swept over the interior was practiced. Nervous, but looking for the necessary details. It was almost intimidating. Then she noticed me, and a hesitant smile spread over her face. It was that light that let me relax.

     I grinned and snapped into a salute. "Lieutenant Gabriel, good to see you."

     She snorted. "Shut up. Don't make this weird."

     I dropped the salute, still grinning. "I'm the one doing proper procedure. Wish I could be promoted for just being here long enough. Hey, did your eyes change colour?"

     Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Is that a typical greeting where you're from?"

     I squinted at her. "No, weren't your eyes like a brown before? They're..." I made a vague motion over my eyes with a hand. "A plum colour? Maybe it's the light."

     "Yes, they were brown. Did you get punched?"

     I frowned and reached to touch my cheek. "What?" I was surprised by the burst of pain that bloomed from the spot. From the—

     "Your face looks like shit."

     "Wow, thanks a lot. Your eyes look rather nice. What happened?"

     "Starbase 14 was exposed to a unique type of radiation we're calling Vacuum-activated—type V—radiation."

     "'Unique?' What the hell does it do?"

     She looked uncomfortable for a moment. "We don't know yet. This is the first time we have encountered it. The colour change seems to be a manifestation of the exposure."

     I squinted again. "Are you feeling... purple?"

     "Cobos."

     "Evil?"

     "Yeah, actually. Would love to punch you."

     "Great to hear." I tapped my communicator. Meeting with Nowak soon, then that meeting. Maybe can catch up with Gabriel when we—A terrific idea occurred to me. I grinned. "Want to take leave with Nowak and I?"

     She adapted faster than I expected. A small smile grew. "You're just going to study me."

     "Wrong, we're going to have a great time, get super drunk, and properly talk instead of texting across the Federation galaxies like a couple idiots."

     "I don't want to impose."

     "Shut up, I'm trying to be friendly. You want to come or not?"

     "I'd love a break."

     "Terrific, we're going to Blyve II for a week. Nowak chose it."

     "When?"

     "We're taking the shoreside shuttle in sixty—" I glanced at my communicator. "Sixty-three hours. A merchant ship is taking us there, and the Enterprise will be passing it in eleven days to pick us up."

     "That's unexpectantly coordinated."

     I shrugged. "Nowak's clever."

     Gabriel left to get briefly re-settled shortly after. I went to the gym, stopping once to examine my face in a mirror. Sure enough, a deep purple bruise was coming in along my jaw. Injured myself thrashing around probably. Like my knee. I could feel the bruise there without looking. God, dreams suck. Hopefully this won't become a regular thing. I brushed the spot. Real or not, my hand-to-hand was pitiful. Reaching the gym, I found a sparring partner in Crewman Ito, and after she had to return to her duties, I beat the shit out a punching bag.

     Michael showed up after an hour, hair wet and wearing a red shirt over one of the Starfleet-issue swimsuit variations that reminded me of the evil dimension garb. She watched until I acknowledged her. "Not bad. Want to try against someone not made of sand?"

     "I'll just finish the set." I snapped into double-time, ducking around one side.

     She peeked around. "Any special reason that brought you here?"

     I punched the bag again, feeling my face going red and hating it. Yeah, sure, had a dream where I got messed up at hand-to-hand. That's not weird at all. "Felt rusty," I said, sounding a bit more pissed than I meant.

     If Michael noticed, she didn't react.

     I finished with my set and joined her in the centre of the mat. There were only a handful of others in the gym, but I noted some crewmen—a couple blueshirts and one redshirt—pause to watch us. "We have an audience," I muttered.

     Michael grinned. "What'd you expect? The show's starting." In two distinct movements, she dropped into a fighting stance and attacked.

     I quickly discovered that Michael was a master of feints. With her regular movements already so unpredictable, fighting her was a nightmare. I was forced to constantly stay moving and on the defensive, striking whenever she slowed, which was rarely. When we were both sweating profusely and growing sluggish in our reflexes, we broke apart.

     Michael crossed to the wall and tossed me a towel. I draped it over my head. "That was incredible," I said. "We should've done this sooner. How the hell do you move like that?"

     "If you can't fight without a phaser, you shouldn't have one." Michael glanced at me. "You have a lot of power."

     If I hadn't already been flushed, I would've blushed. "Doesn't mean a thing if I can't hit you."

     "True. Let me know when you want to do this again. We could learn something from each other." Michael parted with her towel and moved off, calling over her shoulder. "By the way, I think Nowak was looking for you. Try the mess."