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TITLE: Desires and Demons Desires and Demons
"I repeat . that all power is a trust; that we are accountable for its exercise; that from the people and for the people all springs, and all must exist." Benjamin Disraeli
Not knowing is torture. I lack vital information that could make the difference between survival and extinction. I interviewed all but one of the eyewitnesses, but their memories conflict and their narratives are full of gaps. I rifle through my own recollection with no better results. I am drowning in facts. Fact: I have lost my bone blades. Fact: An alien or aliens unknown controlled my body separating it from my will. Fact: I tried to kill Captain Hunt. Fact: I attempted to erase the AI. Fact: In partnership with Captain Valentine, I attempted to hijack the Andromeda Ascendant. I am forced to make conjectures, when I would prefer to plot my revenge. We have not seen the last of the enemy. Hypothesis: We have something our unidentified enemy wants, but we do not know what it is or why. The Captain is wary of us, although he professes all is well. His trust in us has been shaken. I believe he is more wary of me than of Beka, as a result we are wary of him. The very air is doubt laden. Our communications reduced to formalities. He has interviewed everyone on this ship except me - his unwilling partner in crime. It would be useless all I have are sensory memories, nothing specific. I felt cold. There was a great light, then blackness. It was as if my mind was floating in zero gravity. But he doesn't know that. Or does he. Maybe that's why he hasn't asked for my story. He experienced the same degree of nothingness that I did. He assumed that I had shared the experience and skipped the questions. I have another memory. Sometime during the events, my body was aroused. I know, because that "can't scratch the itch feeling" is nibbling away at me still. Whoever took control didn't get any. No satisfaction for that he/she bastard/bitch. On the one hand, I am pleased about that. On the other, I wish I could make this itch go away. When I returned to find my forearm at Dylan's neck, there was a faint aroma of aroused female in my nostrils. The scent was clinging to Dylan too. The adrenaline and shock of seeing how close I had come to killing the captain pushed the memory into the background, until Beka returned to the Andromeda. Smell triggers memories, a scientific fact that I had not truly appreciated until that moment. Beka must remember something. I was too distracted by the puzzling loss of my bone blades to respond to her tentative enquiry. I should add her recollections to my report, but I am afraid that my probing might bring our interlude to the surface. How intimate were we? Was it consensual? Why did the evil ones act on the attraction that she and I have ignored for so long? Okay, if he can remember about as much as I can, then he must be aware of our? Our what? My chin was sore from some friction. Rather like I had been enthusiastically necking with an unshaven man for quite sometime. ---------- ---------No, not Tyr? I necked with Tyr and missed it? Shit! What a waste! |
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