On Stranger Tides - Part 1
Posted on Thursday February 21st, 2019 @ 11:30 hours by Ares Onasis
Edited on on Thursday February 21st, 2019 @ 11:33 hours
Mission:
Pixie Dust
Location: Deck 13 - Storage Bays
Timeline: MD-02, 0415 Hours, 45 Minutes after 'Things that Go Bump in the Night'
1123 words - 2.2 OF Standard Post Measure
“Skatá,” Ares exclaimed under her breath as she looked at the disaster that were the storage bay. Since they were still fresh out of the dock and newly staffed fortunately only a third of the bays were being used. At least that cut down on how much damage could be done. Her head was still pounding and she could feel the tightness of the dried blood on her cheek and side. She was still up and walking and not knocked out cold on the floor of her quarters.
There were no sounds of phasers or any weapons being discharged; that was a good thing. She remained on edge, feeling her phaser pressed up against her lower back just in case. With her tactical experience she would prove to be essential during an attack, and spreading out the stronger crewmembers would be vital to their survival.
She pointed out different areas to the two deck hands assigned to help her out. They were young and eager to help, both men in their late teens who spend far too much time weightlifting, and began securing the loads and noting down what could be saved, what needed to be repaired, and what was a lost cause. There were a couple of moments where the men asked a dumb question, forcing Ares to look at them with amazement (How do you put your pants on correctly in the morning?! she often thought), but all in all they were good hands to have. And it didn’t hurt that they were pretty nice to look at.
It had been about 30 minutes since they got to the first bay and still no update from Mayterial. Ares wasn’t eager to face the Captain and figured it would be best to wait for orders or any request for additional assistance. It was the complete opposite of what she would have done on the police force where it was expected of her to jump in and make herself known as a reliable helping hand but the Fawkes was no police force. Not even close.
“Mamá!.... Mamá!...” The voice echoed from the hallway outside of Storage Bay 1.
What the…? Ares looked around for the source. It sounded like a child’s voice, maybe an older girl. What was a kid doing around here anyway? Lost maybe? But the voice didn’t sound like she was in distress. She seemed… happy? Excited? And she sounded hauntingly familiar… Ares looked at the two men who seemed unaffected by the sudden noise. “You guys hear that? I didn’t know we had kids onboard.”
The guys squinched their eyebrows together in confusion at the random question. “Nah,” one of them replied with a somewhat uninterested tone in his voice. Ares would come to realize that was just his natural tone and he was actually interested in some things, like drinking and womanizing.
Ares furrowed her own eyebrows. Maybe she did hit her head back in her quarters.
“Bampás!” The girl called out, this time her voice was accompanied by eager footsteps running down the hallway.
Ares looked at the men who were still bewildered at Ares’s question and the growing look of concern on her face. “Again… you guys didn’t hear that?” The little girl spoke Greek?!
They shook their heads slowly from side to side as they watched the woman run to the front of the bay and out into the hallway before they turned to each other and shrugged as they continued their work.
“Hey!” Ares called out towards the voice as she ran out into the hallway. She looked all around for the source looking from right then to left, spotting a girl with a small frame and long curly brown hair running towards the lift. “Hey, you! Stop running!” Ares picked up her pace, chasing after the girl before she completely disappeared into the lift. The girl ignored her, instead continued to call out for her parents. And in Greek too! “Deck 2!” The girl called out in the lift.
The girl was too quick. The doors closed behind her before Ares reached her or even got a look at her face. She tapped the lift button fervently to get the next lift there as quickly as possible. She had to figure out what the hell was going on. This place was turning into a fortress of mental mayhem. What was a kid doing down in the pit of the Fawkes anyway? She needed to find out. It felt like forever had passed when the next lift finally came. Ares practically jumped into it and turned to watch the doors close. =/\= Computer, Deck 2! =/\=
Deck 2… the Mess Hall. That damn place, Ares immediately reacted. Everything that was going on was circled around the Mess Hall. She might as well just set up a bunk in there and bury herself in her continuing psychotic breakdown.
Her heart began pounding against her chest as the lift slowed then crawled to a stop. Ares bolted out before the doors completely opened, catching sight of the back of the girl now skipping into the Mess Hall. “Stop!” She tried calling out again to no avail. She followed, then completely lost her breath feeling as if she had been knocked completely out of reality.
The walls of the Mess Hall were no longer the drab metal grey and filled with the drab black and metal tables and chairs. The walls were now painted bright white with sky blue meandros lining the top and the middle that circled around the room. The flag of Greece hung proudly on the back wall. The intimate dining tables scattered around the room were of the same sky blue and covered with freshly pressed blue and white plaid tablecloths each topped with smaller white cloths. And then it hit her: the smell. Fresh falafel and pita bread… her favorite as a child. She could even smell the salt from the ocean that brushed up against the beach outside of the restaurant. She was in a daze, confused as to how this was even possible.
Ares was inside her parents’ restaurant back in Greece, the one her parents owned and operated up until their untimely deaths seven years before. Her mouth completely dried up and a lump suddenly grew in her throat making it difficult for her to take in a full breath. She felt her hands shaking as they touched the hostess stand at the entrance to the Mess Hall, or what should have been the Mess Hall.
It was real. She was back home.
To be continued...