The Night Has a Voice of Its Own
Posted on Wed Oct 1st, 2025 @ 10:34pm by Lieutenant H'iri & Captain M'Raz
1,038 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
Collating Data
Location: Temporary Quarters of Captain M'Raz
Timeline: MD005 - 0300
VIP quarters because of his rank. VIP quarters. They could have given him a blanket in the communal bathroom for all he noticed. The only thing he could see, could think about, was the battle and the death throes of the Jane Addams. His ship. He stalked into the room, still wearing his torn uniform, blood-stained and dirty, and laid down, heedless of the minor wounds he'd taken while helping crew members to safety. He stretched out, staring up at the ceiling, and let his mind replay the entire scenario. Step by disastrous step.
H'iri was tired. She had done a great deal of work cleaning the ship, finding survivors, and repairing it. The task was thankless. All she wanted to do was collapse. However, there was another Caitian that needed to be considered: Raz. No matter what she did, she had little doubt that he was pushing himself even harder. She tapped her commbadge, =^= Captain, this is H'iri. Where are you, currently?" =^=
"I have no idea," Raz growled. He paused a moment, replaying recent events in his mind. "One of the VIP suites, I think. Why? You need something?"
=^= If you have no idea, then it sounds like you need a visit. =^=
"If you need something, come ahead. Otherwise, I'll see you in the morning," Raz said, his voice threaded through with emotions too complicated to name that yet tried to find expression in the roughened timber of his tone. "Captain out." He returned to his former position, staring up at the blank ceiling, and found himself missing the computer-simulated blanket of stars that had once adorned the ceiling of his bedroom. Naming them, concentrating on the patterns, had often helped him focus but no such relief was available tonight.
Raz lay staring up at the blank ceiling while his mind was far away, returning all unknowing to the Sol System, when everything he knew had changed abruptly. Just as calamitous and world-ending as the first time when H'iri's father had ensured that he would no longer be welcome on his home world. The Borg, he reminded himself. They were prepared. They knew exactly where to strike but how did they know? That was one of the things that bothered him. How did they know where to strike or that the Federation even existed?
H'iri could not believe Raz's response. She had expected something else. He was tired. He was grouchy. People were lost. Perhaps that was it. For several moments, she sat staring at a wall, trying to decide whether he meant it or not. He used "Captain," and not "H'iri." That was likely a bad sign.
Yet, they shared a moment the other night, when no attack had occurred. There was tenderness. Were they dating again? H'iri was not certain. However, what she was certain about was that Raz must be overwhelmed. Now, she knew what she needed. She needed to feel close. Raz probably did too. He probably did not know it. So, she made her way down to the VIP chambers, located where Raz was temporarily residing and rang the chime, waiting for his response.
The sound of the chime tore him out of a line of thought that had shown promise and he growled irritably at the door. He was a captain without a ship at the moment, but he was still the bloody captain. "Enter," he called without moving.
H'iri walked in, said nothing, and sat right next to Raz, putting her hand over his, encouraging him to interlock fingers but not forcing the issue.
He had been laying stretched out on the couch and now, with her perched on the edge, he felt closed in ... trapped ... and so, grunting, he slipped his paw out from under hers and shifted position carefully. Once he was sitting beside her, he placed his paw over hers, his 'fingers' curling in somewhat, partially intertwined. And said exactly nothing.
H'iri put her other paw on top of theirs and sighed contentedly before saying slightly over a whisper. "It is not easy, is it?"
"No," Raz said softly. "It isn't. After your Dad, starting over, the Jane Addams became my home. I built a life there that made sense to me ... and now it's gone. I'm ... going to have to start over ... again." He spared a glance over at H'iri as he shook his head. "Stupid, I know. What with everything that's going on out there."
"It is not stupid, Raz. There's a lot of comfort in the familiar and routine." She looked away speaking a truth that she knew but never admitted. "I think I may be the queen of that. Leaving Cait was the hardest thing I ever did, but I could not stay. Starfleet became my home. Then the ships and the routine of shift on, shift off, and creating more order. I have always done what is expected, Raz. You know that better than anyone. But, the more I think I on it, I think that we only can blossom when we make room to grow. Maybe this experience is making room for something greater and we do not know what it is yet." She shrugged helplessly and with her eyes enlarging, she looked back into Raz's eyes for hopeful confirmation.
"Maybe it is," Raz said. Her stubborn stance that she had been doing the right (expected) thing crumbled before his eyes and in the absence of that wall, his eyes opened. He saw how she sought him out, over and over again, and he moved closer, drawing her into his arms, nuzzling her gently. When he spoke, he spoke over the top of her head, curled protectively around her body, his voice softer, more tender. "It's going to get worse before it gets better, H'iri."
"Possibly," H'iri answered, putting her arms around Raz. "I think that may be the way of all the proper choices."
Raz growled in response and settled back against the sofa cushions, with H'iri cradled against him.
"But this moment is nice," H'iri added as she melted into Raz.
"Yes, it is," Raz murmured. "Yes, it is."
Captain M'Raz
Commanding Officer
USS Crazy Horse
and
Lieutenant H'iri
Chief Operations Officer
USS Crazy Horse
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