Transitions

[Shiyounin]

Shiyounin was zooming down the halls of the ship, enjoying her new ability to change her size. She was a little too caught up in the thrill of it, to notice the way she was terrorizing some of the crew with her random size changes.

She knew she should probably be with T.K. in Engineering, but ever since he'd modified her PHI, she just couldn't resist the urge to test the modifications.

As she was zooming down the hall, she had to swerve out of the way as a young girl suddenly stepped out into the hallway. She over corrected, and bounced off the ceiling, before colliding with a wall, and bouncing off again to hit the far way. She bounced down the hallway several times, before she finally came to rest. Her avatar's eyes spinning, as the PHI desperately tried to keep her program from crashing.

“I don't feel so good....”

[Alexandria Wright]

The rest had done Alexandria well, and now she was eager to actually get some motion in her. A creature of action at heart, Alex was feeling cramped and lethargic from the eighteen years frozen. Even thought Doctor Reyes had told her to take it easy, that just did not fly with Queen Cobra.

She was dressed in the effects she had been brought on board with. A black uniform, with a pair of white cobras curling around her arms from wrist to shoulder. At her side were a pair of slightly curved, single-edged blades. She moved with confidence and utter and complete awareness of everything around her. Once a tangled mass, her flowing red hair was now carefully tied back.

On entering the gym, Alexandria found herself nearly alone, save for a single boy, maybe half her age, with lion-like, feral markings. He glared at her when she entered, but the second most deadly human to ever live just rolled her eyes.

"There's plenty of room for the both of us in here." Alex called to him. "No need to be pissy."

Instead of go back to what he was doing, the boy stared dumbly at her for a moment before growled audibly. "Fucking Mamba."

"I'm retired, actually." Alex replied dryly. "And my husband's been missing for several decades, so I haven't had the chance to do that either."

"You think that changes anything, Snake?" He growled. "If you were not Clara's grandmother, I would have killed you with my bare hands already."

Alex gave him a smirk, completely untouched by fear. Her hands were on the hilts of her swords. "Care to test that theory?"

He looked unsure.

"Oh, please. Clara won't do anything to you. Plus, I could use a warmup." The pair of starmetal blades were in her hands.

"Hmph, typical human, hiding behind weapons." He snorted as he moved forward.

"Oh, were you not going to use your powers, then? Because I was under the impression you were going to hide behind them." Alexandria said with a smirk, causing a look of first disbelief and then rage on the boy's face. "We all have crutches, boy. My swords, your powers. A weapon is a weapon, whether you're born with it or pick it off the ground."

The lion-like boy then lunged at her, and she, swords ready, lunged at him. There was a flurry of motion, and then Alex was on the other side of the lion-boy, perfectly unharmed.

Tiny cuts covered Christian's body. There was one at his right arm pit, one at the front of his neck, across the bridge of his nose, through his shirt and across his stomach, in the skin above both achilles tendons, and across his chest, between two ribs, right in front of his heart.

"A bit more force and any or all of those strikes would have been fatal." Alex replied, her expression and tone now instructing rather than mocking. "Or crippling. At best."

Though he looked very angry, he also looked to be listening to her.

"The best fight is one that's over with a single attack. Don't waist time on a non-lethal, non crippling blow. The faster your opponent is down, the faster you can move to the next one." She continued, swinging her blades in the air a few times practicedly.

Then, the lion-boy seemed to realize what he was doing, listening to "the enemy", and said, "You sound like a fucking Mamba textbook."

"I should." Alex replied smoothly. "I wrote the Mamba textbooks." She started on her way out the door. "Thanks for the warm-up, tiger. We should do it again sometime."

[Admiral Hart]

Angel Raye Llewellyn walked the ship in awe, stopping to stare at every system, tinker with every device. She knew she should have been with Clara and the others but, frankly, most of them frightened her. She did not have any of the bitter feelings they did. She remembered the shocked, terrified look on her parents', her human parents, faces, after all, much too well.

Eventually, she found herself at engineering, staring at everything in a daze. She had always loved machines, ever since she was little, both taking them apart and putting them back together.

Unfortunately, in such awe at the Frigate's engine, she found herself tripping to nearly avoid a PHI flying out of nowhere and nearly crashing into the tiny girl as she fell to the floor. Brushing herself off, she rushed over to the hologram and said, "Are you alright?" In a quiet, squeaky voice, "Do you need fixed? I have a few tools...somewhere.." She started to rifle through her extremely baggy pants for something to fix the bunny-girl's projector.

[Shiyounin]

Shiyounin tied to tell the girl to go find T.K., but her vocal processor chose that moment to short out, leaving her mute. She really started to panic, as her image began to flicker.

The girl finally fished out some sort of screwdriver. Before she could actually use it however, a hand reached out, and snatched Shiyounin.

The girl turned around in time to see T.K. walk over to a work bench. He ripped a wire off a near by wall and ignored the small shock he was getting, as he quickly spliced it into the PHI. As soon as he did, Shiyounin's image stabilized, and some of her panic abated.

Her eyes teared up a little however, as she still couldn't speak, and T.K. had one of the ugliest expressions on his face she'd ever seen.

He just had to be mad at her. He worked so hard on the PHI in the first place, and she'd gone and broken it, treating it like some sort of toy.

Feeling miserable with herself, Shiyounin shut herself off, while T.K. began silently working on the PHI.

[Admiral Hart]

"Ah-Ah'm sorry Ah damaged yer AI." Angel said in a voice that was nearly a whisper. He was a boy, after all, and Angel had never quite gotten over her initial jitters over the opposite sex. "Ah shoulda looked where Ah was goin'." She said quietly as she shoved the screwdriver back in her pocket and stood dismally.

Now one of the engineers was made at her. Angel looked down dismally and started to shuffle off, sure that any chance she had had to stick around engineering was completely gone forever.

[Shiyounin]

Not looking up from what he was doing, T.K. nodded his head toward the chair next to him.

“You. Sit.”

He pulled off the main cover for the Power Cell, frowning as the smell of burnt circuitry filled the air.

“First, what's your name, and second, why are you in my Engineering Room.”

The small girl sat quickly, blushing.  "Ah-Ah'm Angel Raye Llewellyn.  Ah...uh....Ah really like machines an' stuff.  Been takin' 'em apart and puttin' 'em t'gether since Ah could walk."  The mousy girl stared down at her hands mostly as she spoke, her voice staying quiet the whole time.

He was silent another couple of minutes, while he quickly disassembled the PHI, making sure the Memory Core maintained a steady power charge.

“On the shelf beside you, there should be a Quadraline VTI-98 power converter. Find it, and prep it for me.”

Angel looked around for a moment before snatching the converter and deftly adjusting it with her tiny hands.  After a few moments working on it, she handed it over to him.  "All done."

T.K. took it from her without even examining it. He replaced the burt out converter in the PHI, before ripping out a few wires and replaced them. He purposely mis-wired three of them, and made sure she could clearly see him do it.

”Uh, are you sure you should do that?"  She asked quietly, not quite meeting his face still.  "I mean, those aren't supposed to go like that but it's your PHI so I guess you can wire it however you want."  She fidgeted nervously, as if sure the taunting and berating would start at any moment.

T.K. smirked slightly before properly fixing the wires. He did a quick check of the rest of the components, resetting a few of the control circuits. Satisfied, he stepped back from the work bench.

“You saw me take it apart, now put it back together.”

Angel paused a moment at first, unsure, and then walked forward and began to move quietly and efficiently, snapping everything into place one wire at a time, making tiny adjustments with various tools, until the PHI was completely reassembled.  "Here you go I hope I didn't screw it up."

T.K. held it for a few seconds, before smiling at the girl, and switching the PHI back on, and unattaching the emergency power line.

A miserable Shiyounin appeared a moment later, not looking at T.K.

“Very nice. Shiyounin, why don't you give our new Apprentice the Grand Tour.”

Shiyou stopped sniffling for a few minutes, as she turned to look at the girl, as T.K. walked off.

“Raul, you're in charge. I'm going for lunch.”

“Sure thing Boss.”

"Ah can stay?  In here?  With the gizmos!?"  Angel smiled widely and did a tiny cheer.

[Cassiopeia Reyes-Hart]

Morgan was standing on the bridge late that night, arms crossed over his large chest and obviously brooding as he stared moodily into the view-screen in front of him. Though the First Mate was clearly upset about something, none of the skeleton crew around him had the nerve or the desire to disturb him in order to cheer him up and/or find out what was wrong. Cassiopeia on the other hand—hovering in the doorway—already knew what was wrong. The teen also knew full well that she should keep her distance from him, that she shouldn’t get involved any more than they already were. Talking to him or initiating contact in any way could only cause more problems in the end.

Yet Cassi’s soft heart couldn’t stand to see him hurting all alone. Unable to leave it alone any longer, the teen finally forced herself to step forward, putting on one of her normal, cheery smiles.

“Hey Morgan.”

The black man turned a little suddenly, startled out of his thoughts. His light brown eyes went a little wide for an instant before he cleared his throat, and tried to smile back, though he couldn’t quite manage it.

Cassi fidgeted a little, wrestling with her emotions determinedly. Just because they had had that one unfortunate mistake didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends. It didn’t mean they couldn’t talk normally, or interact with one another. She could do this. She could.

To that end, the blonde teen forced her tone light and teasing as she pronounced, “it’s not healthy to stand up here scowling all by yourself, you know. It causes premature wrinkles.” Morgan blinked down at her in surprise at that, before the corner of his sinful mouth suddenly pulled into a grudging smirk almost despite himself. Cassi swallowed a little, then, “you should come with me to the mess-hall for dinner.”

He sighed at that, shaking his head. “Someone has to run this ship, luv.” Cassi scoffed, however, waving away his weak protest with a delicately dismissive wave of her slender hand.

“The ship can very well run itself for a few hours without you,” she announced wryly. “Cook and Janey’ve got it covered, dontcha guys?” She turned to the young Ensign and the slender pilot, who both nodded readily enough. Morgan made a face then, so Cassi—not really thinking of the consequences—did what she did to anyone who seemed to be dragging their feet and not giving into her immediate wants. Her large silver eyes suddenly started batting up at him imploringly, lower lip pouting out. “Nobody should have to eat dinner all alone, Morgan. And if you don’t come eat with me, I’ll be all by my poor little lonesome. Just picture me, sitting there all by myself. Lonely. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

She didn’t stop and think of just how hard her whimpery, moaning voice would hit him in the gut, or how it would effect him, at first. Morgan’s face tightened, but not with anger—with something far, far different—and that hot stare caused an echoing throb of forbidden want in her own body before they both somehow managed to shake it off again.

Now somewhat flustered, Morgan cleared his throat and then sighed. “Alright, alright. You win.” He turned to Jane, who was now grinning triumphantly for some reason. “Jane, you have the bridge until I get back.”

“Oh, don’t hurry on my account, Halcyon,” the pilot purred and, if either Morgan and Cassi weren’t so concerned with hiding their own feelings, they might have wondered more at the faintly crafty, smarmy look on her face. “By all means. Take your time.”

Cassi and Morgan left the bridge then, and walked together toward the mess-hall. The halls were largely deserted at this late hour, only the occasional crewmember passing every now and then. None of which eyed them with anything more than passing curiosity, though to Cassi’s somewhat guilty conscience they seemed a little more discerning than what they really were. So in an attempt to appear as normal as she could, Cassi kept up a stream of her usual cheery chatter along the way. To which Morgan murmured and hummed at where appropriate, not really offering up any conversation of his own, but actually listening to what she was saying with surprising attentiveness. Even if it was somewhat inane nonsense just meant to fill the silence with something other than sexually charged tension and angst.

The two entered into the mess-hall, which was sparsely inhabited. One of the few remaining crewmen on duty gave them each a portion of food with a nod, and then they sat down at one of the empty tables. Far enough away from anyone else to be left alone, but not far enough to cause suspicion. Over the course of the meal, Cassi’s infectious cheer and gentle teasing managed to get Morgan to loosen up quite a bit. Until the First Mate was actually smiling easily, laughing softly at her goofy antics, and suddenly looking a lot closer to his relatively young, nearly-twenty-seven years.

Morgan even started to talk a bit about himself, opening up a little and telling her a bit about his family, about growing up in the slums of London on Earth. How he’d been a professional pit-fighter by her age, completely supporting his somewhat large family in lieu of his disabled father. He told her about his siblings—all six of them—all but one of which were sisters, much to his torment he’d assured her with a half-grin. He was the eldest at twenty-six, the next oldest being Reagan at 17, then Porchya at 15, Kaytlynne at 12, his only brother Trevor at 8, Teagan at 7 and his youngest sister, Faye, at 5.

Neither noticed the time passing, talking about everything and nothing all at once, and both gave a start sometime later when they realized they’d been talking together for the better part of two hours. And that the mess hall was now completely empty save for themselves.

Morgan got to his feet, then, somewhat flustered. “Ah, I-I better get back. God only knows what Jane’s done to the crew while I’ve been gone.” He grinned a little. “I’ll be lucky if they’ve still got clothes on.” Cassi just laughed at that, then nodded with a slight sigh. He hesitated in front of her for a moment, as if weighing the wisdom of his next actions before he suddenly reached out to brush her chin with his knuckle. “Thank you, Cassi. For . . . everything.”

The blonde felt her heart skip a beat, breath catching at the tender look in his brown eyes. Something that hit her even harder than his hungry stares ever did. Somehow she managed to smile back, however, though her tone was a touch breathy as she murmured, “any time, Morgan,” in return.

But her smile soon faded again, with the longer Morgan stood there—seeming unable or unwilling to turn away—and the silence stretched out in front of them. Just like that, heat and desperate longing suddenly bloomed to life between the two, who suddenly found themselves blissfully, horribly alone again. With nothing to hold them back, save the pinch of uncertain guilt in her chest—which sudden seemed so small and insignificant in the face of the bald wanting that was now staring out at her from Morgan’s light brown eyes.

In the next breath Morgan was suddenly reaching for her, just as Cassi launched herself up out of her chair. His powerful arms were locked tight around her and the two were kissing hungrily then, almost violent, as if trying to drown away the lingering sting of guilt inside of them with sheer, blazing passion. And largely succeeding. Morgan’s hands slipped somewhat possessively down the gentle slope of her back to the curve of her hips, gripping her tight before abruptly lifting her up off her feet without the slightest hint of strain. Their mouths barely parted for longer than an a heart-beat, Cassi moaning out her eager encouragement as the blond teen’s legs wrapped tight around his waist, her arms curling hard around his thick neck.

Morgan supported her weight easily with his large hands suddenly cupped around her rear, kneading the soft globes feverishly and pulling her hard against the massive erection now tenting the front of his pants. The delicious friction caused another hungry moan to purr out of her throat and into his mouth. Which only increased in volume when his lips and tongue suddenly dipped down, latching onto the edge of her pointed ear. Cassi nearly yowled as his tongue darted along the edge, fingers digging into the muscle of his back through his jacket, then she shivered hard at the hot blast of his breath against her now-wet flesh.

“Easy, darlin,” he growled, fingers tightening. “I’ve got what ye need, luv.” And then Morgan was carrying her quickly and purposefully toward the back of the mess-hall, where the large storage pantry lay.

[Cassiopeia Reyes-Hart]

In the sweaty aftermath, Cassi was once again besieged with feelings of guilt and humiliation. But worse than that, now that his passion was cooling, Morgan was suddenly staring down at her with that same look of shame-faced self-loathing on his face. Cassi got up off the table and reached out to start gathering her clothes with as much dignity as she could muster, fighting the tears that want to spill loose with grim determination. Morgan watched her silently for a moment, then suddenly opened his mouth to speak.

But before he could say anything she warbled, “please, Morgan, don’t say you’re sorry, again. Please.” He winced at that, face pained, eyes sad.

". . . whatever ye say, luv. I won't say I'm sorry again. Ever. If that would make you happy."

Cassi let out a soft, pitiable bark of laughter at that. She would’ve been happy if he would stare at her with the same amount of affection in his eyes as when he was kissing her or touching her body. Not that sad, angst-riddled gaze that just tore at her heart like a million jagged needles. Cassi would’ve been happy if Morgan were to say that he loved her, if even a small fraction as much as she was in love with him. Not the half-grunted words of empty affection he growled out in the throes of passion.

But Cassi was never going to get either of those things, and she was a damned fool for even wanting them.

“I know it was wrong,” she murmured in a miserable rush then, tone hoarse, staring at her hands as they refastened her skirt. “I should never have come to the bridge. I knew it was a bad idea, but you were so upset and lonely and . . . and then we started kissing and I just forget everything when you touch me and . . . I know,” the teen tearily forced out then, tightening the ties to her skirt almost vengefully. “I know. It won’t happen again, I swear.”

And then Morgan was suddenly standing very close to her again. Cassi tensed, and then her breath hitched when the powerful male suddenly cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look up at him. The hunger was back in his eyes, tinged now with a faint undertone of resigned sadness.

“. . . but it is gonna happen again, luv,” he contradicted gruffly, tone hot and dark with raw need. “I just had ye on that damned table like a fuckin’ lecher not five minutes ago, and I already want ye again.” Cassi just blinked up at him, stunned and—though it killed her to admit it—more than slightly aroused by Morgan’s blatant lust. And the older, far more experienced man recognized the arousal in her stare for what it was, letting out a soft, self-depreciating chuckle as his fingers slipped up to caress along the edge of her pointed ears. Forcing a softly grudging, moaning sigh of pleasure from her lips, almost as if to prove his point. “And ye would let me,” he continued sadly. “I can see it in yer eyes, Cassi. All that soft, hot, needy hunger I’ve got no damned business making you feel.”

Cassi’s hands were braced against the broad wall of his bare chest, eyes wide and searching his, expression vulnerable and lost. “. . . what are we gonna do?” she warbled softly. Morgan just shook his head.

“I don’t know. I don’t know about a lot of things anymore, luv.” The teen gasped a little when he suddenly bent down to her, his mouth rubbing against hers again; hard, deep, almost desperate. “And, devil take me, but right now just don’t give a damn.”

And I don’t want to either.

The selfish part of Cassi moaned into his kiss, her slender arms curling eagerly around his neck, arching her back and rubbing herself against that hard wall of muscle that drove her wild. She shoved all of her inhibitions aside. All the guilt and the pain and the hurt would be there waiting for her when she was through. But for now, Cassi wanted to lose herself in the hot rush of need that Morgan made her feel. For this one moment in time he was here with her, and she was here with him. For this one moment in time, it would be enough.

[Admiral Hart]

Jo yawned as she plopped down in bed next to Morgan, who was already fast asleep, dressed in a nightgown. It seemed that, these days, they slept together even less than they had when no one knew they were married. Tonight, however, Jo was making a special exception. She wanted to prove to him that he did have a place in her heart.

And, maybe in some dark corner of herself, she wanted to prove it to herself, too.

She cuddled up to him and lay her head on his chest, quickly starting to drift off. Before she could get all the way asleep, however, she heard him moan in his sleep, and then maybe squirm a bit.

Well well well, looks like I have an opportunity. Jo smirked as she moved on top of her husband, him waking up with a start, and then blinking when he saw her.

"Jo...what're you..." He asked.

"My wifely duties, lover. So sit back and relax. " Josetta purred, running her nails down his chest. He groaned, and then his wife bent over and kissed him fiercely, squeezing his sides with her legs.

Her mouth moved to his neck, and then started to kiss down the length of his body when he moaned again, and Jo stopped still, staring up at him in horror.

He had moaned a name. But it was not her name.

It was Cassi's.

"You....did you just..." Jo blinked in shock and saw the deer-in-headlights ashamed look on his face.

Then Jo got up and started to get dressed, tossing off the nightgown and pulling on her breeches and shirt.

"Jo...please. It was an accident." Morgan pleaded.

"You just moaned my daughter's name, Morg. Do I even need to guess who you were dreaming about before I woke you up?" Hart growled at him, sitting on the bed to pull on her boots.

"...like you've never moaned out Andromeda's name." Morgan answered bitterly.

"But Andromeda's not your daughter, Morg. Look...I can understand having a sexy dream. And she's a pretty girl....but...I just can't stay here with you tonight, Morgan." She said, at first bitter, but then pained. She snatched up her hat and swordbelt along with her jacket. "Go back to sleep and dream of more statutory rape." She added with a bitter tone returning to her voice as she rushed from the room, a helpless, guilty look on Morgan's face as she left, him calling out apologies and all but begging her to stay with him.

And, all around her, on the way back to her bunk, she could feel the wheels turning, and knew that soon, this transitional period would end, and that the change that was beginning to take shape would rock everyone on the ship.

[Christian Monroe]

Christian let out a low growling snarl as he stared down at himself, and the tiny cuts that were now bleeding slightly into his fur. Though for once, he was feeling more angry at himself rather than the elder Mamba female that had just wounded him so handily.

For a moment, when her demeanor had taken on the air of an instructor, Christian had been drawn to heed her. Eighteen years of beating, conditioning and training had overridden his own good sense and he'd felt himself start to defer to her, start to listen. It infuriated him in a way he couldn't quite explain. That no matter how hard he tried, how much he fought to free himself of the torment the humans had forced on him, at the end of the day he feared that he would never be anything more than what they had worked so hard to make him. Merely a tool. An attack-dog. A killing machine that was meant to only take orders and follow them, never thinking for himself.

Christian sighed heavily, turning from the gym after a moment and stalking back to the room he had been given to clean himself up and rest. The Mamba Queen had gotten the upper hand, this time. But next time would be different, he vowed. She had earned a grudging measure of respect from him in that encounter. He still hated her guts for what she was, what she stood for, but the fact that she had faced him down with utterly no fear in her scent, the fact that her skill was indeed the stuff of legends, could not be ignored completely.

The best fight is one that's over with in a single attack. Don't waste time on a non-lethal, non crippling blow. The faster your opponent is down, the faster you can move on to the next one.

Christian smirked, fangs flashing, as he committed that kernel of wisdom to memory.