Sisters

Posted on Tue 16th Jun, 2020 @ 12:54pm by
Edited on on Wed 17th Jun, 2020 @ 1:17am

827 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: Prisoner Break Room, Intelligence Office
Timeline: MD 3, 1045

Previously ... the personalities of Miss Zelda Alegari have been interrogated all morning. Things are reaching a critical point when Morrigan Endrade calls for a break. What is she up to?

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Morrigan followed Miss Addams down the corridor, with a female guard behind them. They turned into an open door, which Morrigan presumed to be a bathroom, but it was much more. Looking like an employer’s break room, there were five round tables scattered through the room, two sofas, and a section of cabinets with a counter filled with snacks and drink options.

Across the room, the only exit was a door the guard pointed her toward. “Go on in there, Miss Alegari. It’s a restroom.”

Ischemia turned toward the counter. “A cup of tea, I think, and perhaps some fruit for energy?”

Morrigan nodded but proceeded rapidly across to the second door. Foolish to hope there was some way out, but she had to look. Entering, she secured the flimsy lock behind her, knowing it wasn’t any deterrent to breaking and entering. Leaning against it for a moment, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Now what? she wondered. They wanted something she didn’t want to give up. Walking over to the sink, she looked into the mirror above it, examining her features. All of them had those same features, of course, the slender face, the brown hair that hung around the shoulders, the deep blue eyes. Nevertheless, one would never fail to recognize them as separate.

Zelda had that slightly lost, good-girl look to her. After all these years, she still seemed innocent. Mostly, she was. There was also a skepticism born of experience in the world. She still managed to find things to love, if not people, and optimism.

Destiny was the ultimate sensual flirt. Her eyes held deep secrets and the sparkle of the chase. The allure she exuded made most men fall at her feet, ready to do whatever she wanted. Somehow, when she had done slicing them open and skewering their hearts, they were ready to thank her for the privilege of serving her.

Tanith was practical and had an edge of calculation to her, but not a sensual calculation. There was a look of Zelda about her, rather like the girl-next-door who had gained some experience. She tended toward logic, was more business-like than the other two, and was good at conducting the business required for their survival.

And then there was Morrigan. She looked into the features she knew so well. There was no girl-next-door, no sensual siren. Morrigan had a logical approach to life, but she was highly suspicious of every situation until she’d thoroughly examined how it could hurt or help her. She could be a pleasant conversationalist or an extremely formidable enemy. Of them all, she was the one with polish and elegance, and she used it to navigate the world successfully, as she was needed.

She turned away from the mirror, no longer interested in comparisons. She had a decision to make, a problem to solve. She ran her hand along the countertop, concentrating on the smooth feeling, but not thinking. Turning further, Morrigan leaned against that same counter, considering her problem. The Starfleet officer had asked the question she didn’t want to answer, but he was going to expect an answer, and it had to be a convincing one.

What could she … should she … give up? Oblivion … the Aenar … or …. Her mind turned away from the horror of the doctor, but she was sure that’s who they really wanted. An icy coldness crept over her mind, a stony feeling that froze her features. No, not that one. You can’t ever tell about Dr. Death. They’ll never find him without what you know about Oblivion. Give them the Aenar, and if you have to, his pirates. But never the doctor.

A moment passed, and Morrigan shuddered. The other one was right. The Aenar was the safest choice. Quickly, she used the facilities, then opened the door and stepped out into the break room. Walking over to the table where Addams had set a cup and a plate of fruit, she sat down and began to eat mechanically.

Ischemia watched her client. She seemed different, not exactly shaken, not exactly determined. Somewhere in between. “What is it, Morrigan?” she asked.

The woman looked up at her, a question in her eyes. “What is what?”

“I’m not sure. For a minute there, you seemed … different, disturbed somehow.” Ischemia shrugged. “It’s gone now. Is everything alright?”

Morrigan looked down at her food, but nodded. “I just needed a little break from the people in that room.” Changing the subject, she looked up, “I know she’s your sister, but do you ever get creeped out by the doctor?”

Ischemia smiled enigmatically, “Don’t your sisters creep you out sometimes?”

 

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