Trojan Horse #44, 45 - Bad Kitty.... go to my room...


G'ulf-fey was stalking through the corridors, the ship was still dark, but as he understood it the weapons officer and the Damage control team would have it fixed very soon. Word was the pack leader had said he wanted the ship functional by the time the other ship came to tow them home. It wasn’t going to happen, but they would try, and perhaps he should offer his help. Given how often they had had to cobble together junk to continue the fight, he had picked up some skill with laser welders and diagnostic tools. He was about to find the Ops officer when he smelled it.

Disinfectant and residue of Cleaning fields, are common smells in the area of Sickbay, but not in the area of crew quarters. Had the ship been boarded with hand to hand fighting across her decks, these might be present, but he had not heard of any such, and so he grew curious and further checked what his nose told him.

Looking around he saw few nameplates, and realized these would be either of low crew, or be for supplementary personnel. The one exception was on one where the smells were particularly near. As he covered the distance he realized there was an other almost ‘metallic’ smell, it wasn’t fresh, but with the ship being damaged the air scrubbers probably were not working well if at all. When life support is barely working, operating equipment to clean up smells fell to unimportance. Besides given humans were practically ‘nose blind’ he doubted they would even notice most of the stink.

Coming up to the marked door he read that these were the assigned space of ‘Cooper, Alyson’ who if he recalled correctly was employed in the lounge. At the same moment he realized that the added smell was, Blood. Either someone had been wounded out here, or something had happened in the Female’s sleeping den. Come to think on it the ‘medical smells’ were also stronger in this area. Why would they ‘scrub’ a place such as this? He needed to know; else this would bother him for days. So he touched the ‘door chime and as well called out to the female incase that was non-operational.

Hearing no sound of movement inside the door, or any other response, as well finding the door locked he considered what to do. He might raise the flag of possible medical emergency, but the blood-smell didn’t smell completely fresh, so if it was critical it was probably too late, besides which he had been told that on Fleet ships com-badges had a function to summon help if the person was dying. Still with no response he should do something. He would go to Sickbay he thought. Even if the medical staff would not tell him anything, the Cat Ryylar could perhaps advise him about the ‘endurance” of smells on this ship.

Approaching sick bay he had to steel himself, how even humans managed to ignore the smells always had amazed him. The age of the ship didn't particularly matter, thou he supposed a brand new craft might not be so bad. Still even in the newest ships or installations he had never had problems finding the Med-Bay. The smells he had always associated with grief and shattered hopes. Ancient, spoiled blood smell, disinfectant, sterilization fields, plus an ozone smell of higher O2 levels in some all added to a distinct odor. He was about to enter when the door cycled and someone came out.

He knew he had not seen AlysonCooper, awaiting battle didn't leave much time for hanging about a bar. But still he knew this was her, thou how he was not sure. Her hair seemed different, and he noted that her eyes were a changed color as well, but he was certain it was her somehow. Approaching he realized her eyes were not pigmented but changed due to her sadness, if he was not wrong they were also red from tears as well. He wondered if something had happened that destroyed the joyous girl his minds eye seemed to see, and left this wreckage.

It was then he recalled where he had seen her. They had not met; it had been a holo-image that Stockwell had. The picture had been taken at some celebration and Stockwell and this female had been in it. Stockwell had spoken of her in familiar terms but in a way that spoke of longing not actual events. G'ulf-fey wondered what might have been were it Stockwell here and not him, and knew that he owed his former wingman to help this girl if he could.

“Excuse me,” he said quietly “perhaps, you might tell me. What has tragedy has occurred in there?”

Alison jumped, she had not heard anyone near her and then to have this creature being so close was a shock. Between the darkened hallways and it’s ‘savage’ appearance she barely managed to stop herself from shrieking in fright “W-what!? D-do I know you?” she said then took a deep breath “S-sorry, maybe you s-should talk to someone else. I-I’m n-not who you n-need.” She continued on the edge of tears.

“Perhaps, perhaps not, but you are who I asked” G'ulf-fey said and considered kneeling so he would seem less of a threat. “As well, you seem in the need of companionship and it a packmate does not ignore the pain of others. This ship-crew are all the pack I have left, so it falls to me to help those I can. Now, perhaps we might move away from this place of ‘bones and blood’, But you will talk to me, telling me why I can smell your tears and see your sadness rather than the happy girl that my friends told me of.”

Alison shook her head and moved past him and headed back toward her quarters. “Just leave me alone, you can’t help me, no one can. I am just crap, just an other junkie who cant be trusted and disappoints people.”

G'ulf-fey shook his head and moved into line with her, the pace she was settling not all that fast. “This, I shall not do. Fighter pilots do not ‘give up’ on their fellows, no matter how damaged they are. Yess some are taken to ground by the ‘damage’ the junk weighting them down. But sometimes they can be got to a safe landing and then repairs can happen there. So they may fly strong again. “ He placed a soft paw on her shoulder “you will have to run much faster and farther to get away from me, would it not be simpler to find a comfortable place to sit and talk. I am no councilor, just a creature who knows about terror and sadness and perhaps can help.

Alison felt her resolve drain at the touch. She wanted to be alone she thought, but did she really. If she went back to her room she would only have the walls to look on till they got to the Starbase and she left. Perhaps to go to Cait, perhaps to go elsewhere. Finally she seemed to deflate and then nodded. Then she lead him to one of the ‘observation port’ rooms. A place where lights were nearly always off or very low and the night sky dominated ones view. Sometimes talking in the dark under the stars was easier.

She sat on one of the chairs and looked out and after a time began to speak “I am what used to be called a ‘party girl’ far form being a good thing, given my profession, this is very bad. A junkie, that is someone, who is addicted, cant be around place where they can get such things. They end up like me, shooting up or sucking the crap. Being found overdosed or drunk or both by their friends. Recreationally poisoning themselves and usually killing themselves in the end. Unless they are like me who decide to end their suffering and die. Except I cant even do that, one more thing I screwed up.” She said and rubbed her healed wrists where she had cut herself “I thought coming on a ship might help, but it didn't and I just found new people to disappoint. Now the Boss, who was wounded, has one more thing to worry about.”

G'ulf-fey listened to this one, this damaged female who had somehow been sent down a destructive road and never got off it. Maybe he could help and maybe not, but her flares were burning red and he couldn’t ignore a mayday and face himself in a mirror. So he considered his words and then moved near her then settling onto the floor he took hold of her hand spoke carefully.

“I will not try to compare my sadness to yours. Our lives are too different, The dark place I was and this light place you come from are too different to allow comparisons. Too easy such a sharing can lead to us competing who has had the worse history. Such will not help, and help is what you need form me. But perhaps some parts of my people’s tale will help, and perhaps something I have left may as well.

“This ship, as she is now, reminds me of my pup time, when the Gray-skins had made those Vargur who lived refugees. We were in a ship hull all but drifting when we were rescued and towed to a place of safety. Arriving at that station was the end of one life and the beginning of an other for me. The ending of what might be called my ‘childhood’ and the beginning of my battles against the demons and their false gods, who sought to destroy anything good they saw. So it was that I, a Vargur, a creature of forests and green places, found my hunting ground being the open skies of the Mother’s night cloak.

“Before that my pack was Silverfur Sharpfang, after that my pack became the Star-Tigers a band of privateers, Now I wear the insignia of the Federation Fleet Pack. But who ever I am or was, I carry the song and the ways of my people until I go to the next realm. Duty and the challenges of living among you all as best I can, being the destiny written for me in the book of Kuor-en. He who records all until time itself ends.

“Some I have seen have let the darkness of the mortal realm bend or even break them. Some, poor souls such as yourself are mislead by Key-Otay the trickster, and so grow lost and need help to find the path-trail again. They seek escape from pain; not remembering the only true strength is within themselves. Even on their weakest they still have the bones of strength and they have their packmates to help them, all they need do is ask and allow.

"Vargur know this truth, even thou life as Destiny’s servants is hard. We stand together against adversity. Running together and succeeding, even if only to yell in tribute to those fallen. We know that together we can defeat any enemy, even if it is a demon from the darkest of Hells. I am told a human once said that: ‘if you want peace, prepare for battle’. This is a good mantra, and perhaps it may be applied to your difficulty.

“It comes down to a choice, thou. Will you accept that this will be a battle that you will fight daily? Or will you run for safe places and refuse to confront your tormentors? I am sure there are places, enclosures, perhaps planets even, where the demon’s poisons cannot go. But this will not give you peace. That will only come when you face down this evil thing and send it running back to the demon realm it came from.

“SharpFang, it is said served a human pack for a time. With these he prospered, perhaps now I give back this god fortune in aiding you. I offer to stand beside you and aid your ‘recovery’ to guard your sleep and be something to cling to while your body purges its demons. Your quarters stick of the cleaning, and hold memories of your failure. But there are many cabins here, and some that are intended for sharing. I speak not of bonded couples but of those of lesser standing in rank. Perhaps together we two ‘lost’ ones can forge a new song of remembrance and memories. Perhaps helping each other become more than we seem, and more of use to those we serve.

“Shall you allow this to happen, or shall you be as Her-Buk. Turning your armored back on trouble, hoping the danger will not destroy you before you can escape it?”

Alyson said nothing, thinking and watching the stars as in the coldness and lifeless expanse of space.


Lt. (jg) G'ulf-fey Marine Fighter Leader USS Pegasus "hopeing that he can help this girl"

Alyson Cooper (NPC) Barwench USS Pegasus

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