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A Mirror Shattered #218 - 219 "Girltalk"Wandering the ship was a bit more of a task than she'd thought it would be. It was huge and lengthy and had sections to it that she didn't quite understand it's purpose. The ships Maggie Deacon her served in never had an ounce of spare space. People slept in the halls if they needed spare space. Same for medical if they ran out of beds, you just propped the broken, bleeding and dying in the halls. Here they just stretched on like great beige canyons that seemed to go on forever, dotted with people running about doing all kinds of important things. And then there was her strolling along with her hands shoved in a doggedy old flight jacket like a sight seer or some kind of tourist. It was almost funny. Towards the end she headed back to her room, summoned up a water from the replicator and sank down into an all together too comfortable chair. Maggie was caught between dozing off for a bit in actual silence or trying to see if she could access the computer banks. In the end the computer won and natural curiosity had her pulling her chair up and tucking her knees under her. She started with the history of the Pegasus, reading over some of the misadventures of the crew that were public knowledge for those on the ship before trying her hand at some more delicate fishing and prying into what the flip side of the universe looked like. It was like reading some sad kind of fantasy all built out of hopes and what could have been if the world hadn't gone to hell in a hand basket. So many of her friends were still alive and well according to simple records searches. People that had passed away long ago or disappeared during that dark period of absolute silence when everyone had split and gone separate ways. Cocodrie was still a blooming garden tucked between the cypress knees of steamy Louisiana, not a smoking pit of bombed out glass and splinter resulting from the strike against Paris Island. Her family would be all right then, not lost somewhere or dead. Even if there weren't files on them with Starfleet, they just would be, she knew it. Her baby brother'd be near her height now if not taller without a doubt, being as wiry and angular as the sapling he was last time she'd seen him. Every name she could think of she searched on until she came to her own. Trembling fingers hesitated over the screen before keying up her own data. Oh she looked different in her recruiting picture. Vibrant, excited- not at all angry and determined. Maggie scanned over the records at so much of a different career. She'd never flown. Never been through drop ship hell and waiting- starving- on provisions and ammo. No, Magdalena Caroline Deacon had stayed a fighter tech aboard a ship called the Rutherford and died at the tender age of twenty two to a hull breach. What a way to go. Under notations it listed that she was carried on by her parents and brother. Fates had been traded. The family was still broken. Somber now, she closed the screen and pulled her chair away, turning it back towards the table where it had been and seeking out her bed. The information stung its way through her nerves into her brain and sort of worked there into a surly knot that she wasn't sure what to do with. Rolling onto her side she decided to be happy for them- all the lost souls that were fine on the other side and the opportunity open to them. The lives and laughs and loves not cut short. Maggie curled into a ball, cradling her arm to her and fell into a deep and restless sleep, dreaming of all those could bes.. -------------------------- Lt. JG Magdalena Deacon
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