Chapter Text
“Aside from her conviction, she appears to be alright,” Doctor M’Benga said to La’an slowly, bracing himself for the backlash.
“I saw her on that moon,” she protested. “Whatever happened there, it changed her. Do you expect me to believe she’s alright?”
“She was my friend, La’an,” Erica repeated, firmly.
“She still thinks that Gorn is her friend? You can’t let her go.”
“La’an…” A well-timed request took her out of the room.
Erica sighed. “Saved by the bell.”
M’Benga turned his head towards her. “You should take some time off.”
She was tired of trying to explain, but she drew her breath to argue again.
“To mourn your friend,” he added. “The loss of a friend isn’t something you can deal with overnight.”
“But I’m the pilot,” she said halfheartedly. She knew he was right.
“Our next mission is a simple delivery,” he reminded her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “It’s fine.”
“I guess I should rest, or whatever,” she muttered. She should have told her to wait until she explained.
“Fuck this.” She needed something to distract her. Something enjoyable.
The idea hit. First, she had to find Pelia.
“Do you have something to use?”
“You’ll have to be more specific than that,” the Lanthanite said.
“Something I can write on. Something…” She shook her hands. “Natural.”
“I have a notebook,” Pelia said, and started to look through one of her chests. She handed the old, blank book to her. The corners of her mouth tightened. It was way more paper than she needed.
“Oh, and this,” she said, stacking a pen on the journal. “Is there anything else?”
“That’s all I need. Thanks a lot.” She returned quickly to her room.
She uncapped the pen, and opened the journal. The first few times she tried using the pen, it cut through the paper. Then she figured out the right angle, and soon she was working on a game board across two of the pages.
Her mind was lost in a snapshot of their game together, trying to get every line perfect. She stopped every now and then, when her mind wandered to her death, to focus on the pen. It seemed to be mostly polished wood, with a sharp metal tip that looked like it could be a weapon. She wondered if pens then were like that, or if it stood out even in its time.
When she finished the board, she sighed, then immediately muttered, “Great, now what about the pieces?” She started to think about what to make the pieces out of (well, except for the piece she ate), she added, glancing at it on her shelf.
Who would she play with? The passing thought stopped her in her tracks. No one would warm up to the fact that she was friendly with a Gorn anytime soon. Except… Captain Batel was half Gorn, wasn’t she? She started working on a message immediately.