The Farmer and the Snake
Posted on Fri Aug 2nd, 2019 @ 5:36am by Lieutenant Commander Meilin Jiang & Stephen Spires
Mission:
S1E3: Moments Of Consolidation
Location: USS Resolute
Timeline: MD 9 | 21:00
When Stephen retired to his temporary quarters on the Resolute, it was with a sigh of relief. He'd had some dangerous assignments as an intrepid journalist, but never before had he been abducted by human traffickers and sent to the heart of a dead star where cybernetic carrion creatures thought to auction--
He sighed and shook his head. Save it for the write-up. FNS was going to eat this shit up.
And there was another matter more pressing to him at the moment. Mara had already parted from him, citing duty and what-not when she was supposed to be focusing on physical therapy and her new appendage. In the heat of the moment, Stephen had made promises to her in Sickbay that he could not take back. That he did not want to take back. Promises of everlasting love and fidelity. Those words were not often associated with the likes of him.
There happened to be somebody on board who knew Stephen and Mara during their first go around. Commander Jiang. She had been the Chief of Security and the Scientific Tactical Lead on the Palatine, a prestigious position that took an even more prestigious position like her current one to eclipse. Stephen recalled their first meeting. He had wanted his security clearance raised, and the commander--then, a lieutenant--saw things differently.
Her office doors parted with a swish, opening for a tall, striking man with a winsome disposition.
"Well, hellooo." Stephen flashed a half smile at Meilin, hoping to test the waters.
The surprise visit caught Meilin off-guard, but she adapted quickly.
"Good afternoon. What is your emergency?" Meilin laced her fingers together and leaned forward on her elbows.
Stephen Spires smiled widely and rolled his eyes. "Oh, honey, if only it were as simple as that."
Meilin's mouth turned flat, though her eyes lit up with incredulous wonder. "Forgive me. I had assumed that a man who barged uninvited into my office faced an emergency situation."
Though her inflection was friendly, her eyes told another story.
And that made Stephen smile wider. He was nothing if not a quick talker. "Oh, yes. I find myself in dire need of a service that only you can meet."
He was tempted to lace his words with innuendo, but something about Meilin's posture and arched eyebrow advised him to abstain.
"I see." Meilin leaned back in her chair and pressed her hands into a mudra of patience. "Still, I cannot imagine the need to be so dire in that it has taken you three tries to begin articulating it."
Stephen winced at that, but he hid it well. "Ah. Well, you see, I'm an embedded journalist with the Federation News Service, and it seems there was a mistake with my security clearance. I--"
As he spoke, Meilin had his security profile pulled up through hot keys and on display, which she swiveled around her desktop to face him. "--have been granted clearance level 2."
Their eyes met in a battle of wills, each daring the other one to break off first. Stephen took a breath to speak, but his eloquence seemed to be stalled. Meilin broadened her thin smile with a faint bob of her head. "Is there anything else with which I can assist you, Mister... Spires?"
Stephen chuckled to hide his nascent frustration. This little spark-plug was getting the better of him, and he hated it. So, he did what he always did in times like these. He imagined Meilin bent over her desk, screaming his name. From the look of her, that would probably do her some good.
"Yes, as a matter of fact." A confident smirk returned to Stephen's face as he began reasserting situational control. "In order to better cover the in's and out's of this historic vessel, it would be mighty fine if I could get that clearance raised another level or two." He arched his eyebrows to match Meilin's. "I'd consider it a personal favor."
Meilin shook her head, and hummed a coy, "Hm-mm."
"What?" Stephen balked.
Meilin set her face to a tilt. "It means no," she said with the affable, condescending airs one might use with a dim-witted child.
"Does the freedom of the press mean nothing to you?" Stephen asked, feeling a little heat under his collar. "People back home want to know what's going on, and I'm the veritable prophet who decides what they will hear."
"I am certain you will not disappoint your fans regarding the social events from the mess hall and public conference rooms." Meilin folded her hands once more, inviting closure to the matter.
Stephen shook his head. While there was still a level of flirtation in his face, he had turned to playing hard ball. "No. I'm not a fluff writer. I want mission data, or access to those who compile it."
"A clever journalist such as yourself should have little difficulty composing one riveting story after another with all the mission data passed on to you from the captain." Meilin smiled again, clearly enjoying the unintended humor in Stephen's request.
"Fine. At least allow me to interview departmental staff without an escort." Stephen grinned again, though this time felt more forced than natural. "Yellow alert and above notwithstanding, of course."
Meilin's inflection dropped an octave. "This is not a negotiation, Mr Spires. You may do your job to the best of your ability, and I will do the same. If you require more of a challenge, I could always reduce you to clearance level 1, the standard for all guests and visitors."
"Yeah? Well, fuck you too!" It was a petty outburst, and Stephen felt stupid and small as soon as he said it.
"Not in this lifetime." Meilin smiled as if she had turned down an invitation to afternoon tea. "You may leave now, on your own volition or under escort."
Stephen raised a finger which shook as he vigorously fought for a retort. After a vain moment that only escalated Meilin's reticent mirth, Stephen snorted. "Bah." He waved his arm in dismissal. "Forget it. I don't need you."
"Nor I you," Meilin replied. "An Dao."
Stephen fumed on his way out the door.
Meilin had taken to the primary sensor suite in hopes of better long-range scans -- not only what awaited them back at Canopus Station, but also insights into what they had left behind. The Mire was changing, of that she was certain. New algorithms would have to be written just to simulate possible outcomes.
Then the journalist showed up.
"Greetings, Stephen Spires," she said without turning around.
"Goddammit! Creeps me out when you do that," Stephen protested.
"I know," Meilin said smugly. "I am not giving interviews at this time, though, so that will have to be all."
The much taller man stared down at the woman who was still showing him her back. "Not here for that. More of a personal call."
"Oh?" Still she did not turn.
"Could you take a break for a minute?"
Meilin shook her head. "These callibrations are rather sensitive. Taking a break would set me back to the beginning."
"Fine," Stephen said with a frustrated sigh. She never was one to make things easy. "I wanted your advice about something. About Mara."
Meilin snuffed at the mention of her friend's name. "Simple. Stay away from her."
"Not as simple as that." A dopey smile sprouted on Stephen's face. "We... rekindled our interest."
"And?" Meilin pressed.
"And... I want to know how to do right by her," Stephen said by way of humble admission. "I've never felt this way before. Never...committed to a woman before."
Meilin sniffed again, louder this time. "That is because it is not who you are."
That made Stephen snort with a wry chuckle. "No, I suppose not."
"It wasn't a joke." Having finished her current series of callibrations, Meilin set the sensors to stand-by and turned to face Stephen. "There is a tale about a Farmer and a Snake. The Farmer sees the Snake in distress and feels pity, so he takes the Snake into his bosom with the promise that the Snake would not bite him. Yet after he takes in the Snake, he is inevitability bitten. As he lays dying, the Farmer asked the Snake why he had bitten him. The Snake said, 'It is my nature, yet you took me in anyway.'"
They fixed each other with firm stares. "You are a Snake, Stephen Spires. You cannot deny your nature. If you truly care about Mara, you will leave her alone."
Stephen knew he was one son of a bitch or another, but he had not idly come to his conclusion about Mara. He loved her. Needed her.
"I'm done hurting her. Done running. I came here looking for advice on how to be there for Mara, but I see that was a mistake." He framed his words with his hands in the air on either side of his face. "A big fucking mistake!"
Meilin shook her head. "No. You came to me because you knew I would tell you the truth about yourself and your situation. You have a way out. I suggest you take it before anyone gets hurt."
"You're wrong!" Stephen said.
"No," Meilin said yet again. "Though I wish I was."
Her smugness was gone, replaced by frank candor. It made Stephen snort in angry contempt. "You're wrong. You'll see."
Meilin shook her head before turning around to resume her callibrations. The discussion was closed.
At first Stephen wanted to argue more, but he realized there was no victory here. He glared at Meilin, resenting her criticism. No, her damnation. He resolved to prove her wrong. Even it killed him.
