A Question of Belonging

Posted on 21 Sep 2023 @ 7:24pm by Commander Calliope Zahn & Lieutenant JG Rhiannon Hokir
Edited on on 06 Feb 2024 @ 10:16pm

Mission: M4 - Falling Out
Timeline: M4 D2 0600HRS
3530 words - 7.1 OF Standard Post Measure

Calliope awoke somewhere… strange.

At first her vision was too blurry to make anything out. There was a very odd chiming sound, like a low budget harp, and a quiet, masculine voice.

“It is Oh six hundred, Federation space standard time. Thank you for choosing Galaxy’s Best, when your warp nacelles need a rest.”

She rubbed the sleep sand out of the corner of her eyes with the back of her hands and slid out of a fresh down comforter, her memory sinking back as she looked down. She was still wearing her evening dress. Good grief. What a night. Her sinuses felt as dry as an Obsidian plain…

“It is Oh six hundred, Federation space standard time. Thank you for choosing Galaxy’s Best, when your warp nacelles need a rest.”

“Computer, end wake up call.” Her voice felt like a croak. She shuffled to the bathroom in the economy stay hotel room to get a sip of water. Thirst quenched, she proceeded to peel out of the tight dress and tapped the console in the shower for a good steam.

Waking up in stages, she remembered now renting the room after parting ways with Corvus. It had started with one glass of wine, but they were drinking with a Klingon… So ultimately, she wasn’t sure how many times they’d drained the stemware. It felt like someone had been with her when she made the hotel arrangements. She just couldn’t recollect who. Walker, maybe? She chuckled at her elusive memory, hoping she hadn’t done anything too embarrassing. She must have said something to convince who ever it was that she didn’t want to go home, though.

As the steam cleared her head, she decided the fact remained. She still didn’t want to go home. Actually, she never wanted to. Lance wasn’t going to change, which meant she would just end up back where she was, and that was the best case scenario. She needed to do something definitive, while the decision still felt this clear, before she let Lance convince her she was being unreasonable. To hell with it. She would be as unreasonable as she wanted to be.

She was still dripping, wrapped in a towel and sitting on the edge of the tub when she reached out to the vanity counter and picked up her comm link. “Zahn to Hokir?” she quested through the comms, hoping the kind assistant chief was available, or even remembered her.

“Hokir here,” Rhian turned her chair from the console, reaching for her morning tea as she noted the caller. “Good morning, Commander - how may I help you?”

Calliope toyed with the edges of the device. “If I put in a request for single quarters for myself, is it possible you could expedite it to… say, now?”

Biting her lip, Rhian swallowed before reaction could cause her to cough the mouthful in surprise. “Ahm … sorry. Something went down the wrong pipe.” Setting the mug aside, Rhian turned back to her console and began pulling up housing listings for officers. “No, it shouldn’t be a problem, Ma’am. We have a handful of units open - let me just run a check to make sure nothing’s marked for later appointments.” Her mind was rolling over questions of ‘why’ and ‘what happened’, even as Rhian focused on maintaining something of a professional bubble to work. “Um … do you have an area of the station you are wishing to avoid with your new assignment?”

“Yeah, anything on the opposite galactic quadrant from the current one would be fantastic.”

“Ah … well, I could probably do that … but then the commute would be hell and I’m not sure the Captain would be that happy about last minute emergencies.” The statement was pure nonsense, Rhian knew. All the same, she zeroed in on locations as far removed from the Commander’s current shared suite. “But in the meantime, I can set you up on the opposite side of the station?”

“That sounds sufficient. Can I get some packing crates?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rhian keyed in the new assignment, and as a second thought put an information hold on the entry. She would shoot a message to the Chief to let him know she was looking into the matter first - just to make sure all was in order - before releasing the assignment as a whole. “I’ve actually got some time on my hands at the moment - we don’t have our Staff meeting until 0900, so if you’d like me to meet you at your location, I can have the boxes beamed to us?”

“That would be fine. Just… wait until there are no lifesigns in the apartment.”

“Alright, Commander.” She toyed with the idea of calling someone from Security - just in case - but nothing had been directly said to indicate a risk. Just … not normal conversation. Pulling up a tab on the Commander’s current living quarters, she earmarked it to alert her when they were vacated. “I’ll see you then.”

“Thanks, Rhian. Zahn out.” She tossed the communicator back on the counter.

There was enough time to dry off and get dressed and made up. Knowing she was going to spend some time packing boxes before going on duty, she took her time twisting her hair into a coiled roll and pinning it back. She tied a bandana over it and pinned that down as well. Even with modern environmental controls, sometimes things got dusty and grimy in the corners and back of bookshelves, and she didn’t want to have to waste any time cleaning up to go meet the delegation and the diplomats who were due to arrive. Less pragmatically, she put in replicated hoop earrings before chuckling at the unintentional old earth pirate look in concert with the bandana, and then swapping them for studs.

She didn’t bother with the duty jacket, just opting for the sleeveless uniform undershirt and planning to change it out freshly for the conference. By the time she was pulling on her boots and gathering her dress and handful of items she’d had on her the night before, she was ready for the comm link message.

Rhian noted the moment the joint suite cleared out and put a call into Zahn. “Commander, the coast is clear. I can meet you there in two minutes max.”

"Don't rush. See you there." Calliope acknowledged as she affixed the commbadge and headed to the desk to sign out of the accommodations. She walked past the breakfast bar for some eggs on toast, which she took to go. The tiny suites were designed for short term travel, when someone didn't merit a quartering assignment, and although installed on the levels above the promenade, a sloping egress spilled out on one of the more colorful parts of the promenade: Whistling Dixie’s gambling level, Hank’s Casino and holosuites, Pog’s second hand goods shop… It made sense they had laid it out just like this, she thought as she found the turbo lift. It fit a certain kind of clientele without being entirely too seedy.

She finished her toast on the lift and walked the remaining distance back to their quarters. The place was empty. Lance really was out, probably checking into his office. For a couple of minutes she just stood in the middle of the living area, taking mental and emotional stock. She had thought they were going to turn this place into their first home. She’d made herself comfortable and started filling the space with her favorite things, new and old. Still, only a limited amount of it mattered to her, and her time living there had only measured in a few months. Although she did have a number of her own work engagements to check in to, she was fairly certain she could be out by the time Lance got back.

Maybe. With a little help.

Rhian managed to time her arrival with an armful of boxes in tow. She pressed the chime to announce her presence, and smiled as the door opened on a rakish-looking commander. “Well, now I feel like I should have thrown some overalls on - you mean business.”

“Let’s call it Operation Clean Break.” Calliope said, taking the flattened containers out of her arms and setting them on the floor beside the bar. “I’m glad you’re here. I hope I’m not stealing you away from something more pressing upstairs.”

“Not at all; the Chief has a quick meeting before the gathering with the ambassadors, but he knows what I’m doing and has said he’ll leave a drive for me to catch up if we run a little late. I know you will want time as well, so it should work out just fine.” Rhian took the opportunity to study the woman and determined that - for all her eyes seemed a bit red rimmed - she looked overall okay. No concerns of being in danger, then. “How do we want to do this - fast pack and slow re-order?”

“Yeah. I don’t care how long it takes to set up again.” Calliope was forming one of the bins. She had come up through operations and she could prop open a packing crate with mechanical ease. She set it down with a whip-snap as it locked into the third dimension. “I just need to be out today. You can probably start on all of the lower cabinets— cooking, serving, entertaining ware. I think the last cabinet is a stack of games. The folding wooden chess board is his, and the trivia box. The rest are mine. Then those upper cabinets, the ones with the glass doors. There’s a bunch of knick knacks and souvenirs. Those are all mine. Leave him the tray of drinking glasses and decanters. Those were a wedding gift from his father. And all of the alcohol, I guess. He’ll probably want that.”

Rhian nodded and took her own crate to start on the cabinets in question, careful to separate the levels of breakables with protective layers as she went. Utensils she scooped into a smaller container to tuck into the whole once the crate was sorted. Once or twice she glanced over to see the Commander moving along at a steady pace, not frantic or reflective. Just purposeful. Biting her lip, she finished up the crate and locked it shut before grabbing another to hit the next set of cabinets.

Calliope quickly sifted through the living area, folding a pile of blankets she’d acquired. They were either from her childhood, or gifts, or things she’d bought, all of them mismatched and unique. The quirkiest one was from her own learning attempt at knitting. It didn’t fold square. Somehow as she had made it, it became a trapezoid, getting wider and wider. This she roughly folded too. It had ended up in her storage until recently, since Lance had told her he never used it after she had gifted it to him years before. She debated and decided technically, she had given it to him, and it was his. And left it on the back of the sofa, fully expecting he would de-replicate it. There were a few other throws that had been gifts to them as a couple, or things they had purchased while traveling together, and she left them with the same expectation. Lance wouldn't want them, or care or know what to do with them. But at least he could decide for himself.

After the pile of blankets, she started making trips back and forth from the bedroom upstairs, returning with boxes of her clothing and personal supplies. There were a few sizable medical devices she had been using for therapies of light and oscillation treatments that weren’t going to fit in any boxes, so she wrapped them and set them beside the growing row of crates.

“There’s a coat closet, under the stairwell,” Calliope called out on one of her trips up. “Should be obvious which coats are mine!”

Setting aside the chess board, Rhian tucked the games into their crate. “You should host a girl’s game night sometime - I know there’s a few of us in Ops, some in Science too, who would love to come help you get set up in the new place.”

“Maybe. I mean, I never got to host anything here. Why not?” Calliope was already coming back down the stairs with another box of clothing. She had collected so many favorite authentic outfits on all of her travels that moving in a single duffle wasn’t an option like how she had traveled when she was younger. At least she had thought they were her favorites. Now, as she set the box down and looked at the textiles inside, she realized that half of them reminded her of trips she had taken with Lance. The other half she had never worn. “I’ll have to go through all these again later,” she thought out loud as she fitted on the lid, considering the secondhand goods place she had seen.

“That’s a good plan, actually.” Rhian looked up from her box. “I had a room-mate in Academy that went through a messy break-up and just threw everything in boxes. Me and our other two roomies sorted through it all when she was ready and picked out what was worth keeping, and she sorted through that.” The games finished, Rhian set the box aside and headed for the closet to pull out the few items that were clearly the Commanders, leaving the rest.

“I have all the baggage in this relationship.” Initially, she’d moved in with just six crates, but then the rest had come delivered from storage, things that she never had room to live with before. Things that she still wasn’t used to owning. Lance had moved in with his share of possessions, but most were in the office or on the display shelving. “I’ll lighten his load. It’ll be a lot easier to dust.”

It was going fairly quickly, and Calliope knew that if she had tried to do it on her own she’d probably be stuck looking at the first two things she’d brought out, asking herself if she was making a mistake. Something about having Rhian there helped her to stay on task with Operation Clean Break.

“In my experience, a man can make a mess with a small amount.”

“Ha!” Calliope took another trip up the stairs. A minute later, small shoe boxes started sailing over the hall rail, roughly landing by the clothing crates. “Heads Up!”

Rhian shrieked, ducking out of the way and half-laughing. “A little warning next time?”

“Gotta stay on your toes.” After a while, the hailstorm of shoes ceased, and there was no more sign of Calliope from upstairs, neither sound nor projectiles.

Playfully grumbling under her breath, Rhian finished up her work downstairs. For a moment, she peered up to the landing, wondering if she should intrude; deciding she had come here to help and it was foolish to just sit uselessly, she headed up the stairs and into the open door to find the Commander facing off against a more formidable challenge than flatware and shoes. Calliope was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed with an array of jewelry in a semicircle around her. She moved a necklace here, a pair of earrings there and then sat with a long slender gift box in hand, biting her lip.

Aware of Rhian’s presence, Calliope spoke without looking up from the spread. “Birthdays, Anniversaries, holidays… I guess gifts are gifts. But I won’t want to wear most of this again.” She set aside a few exceptions, things from before her marriage, items she’d acquired herself. Costume jewelry and handmade pieces. Those were easy to sift out. “I don’t think he’ll want most of it back either. But the pieces from his family’s collection… they’ll probably send demands for return to the estate.” Calliope said carefully, starting to pick out the older pieces, setting them on a soft cloth in an acrylic tray. There was a large gold ring with a dark stone, tiny leaves worked into the band, appearing to entwine. A long string of pearls, the silken string they were knotted with yellowed with age. She found the matching earrings and rolled them between her fingers. She had worn them often. After a long pause they went into the tray too.

Unsure how to best help, Rhian settled on the obvious, sitting across from Calliope and sorting the pile into sets. She might not know what had sentimental value, but she knew her stones and settings at least. She paced herself not to grab at the pile while the other woman was sorting, but she couldn’t help commenting as she lifted one particularly intriguing necklace. “This is all so pretty.”

“I know…" She started to say, her voice pained, before she shifted back into her resolve. "I’ll get myself new ones.” Calliope seemingly promised herself. “Nothing’s stopping me from buying my own.”

There were more pieces already in their own velvet boxes, some of them gorgeous, hand worked haute couture statement pieces. “I’ve only had a couple of occasions to even wear any of those.” Calli said, stacking the velvet boxes. “You know how it is. Being Starfleet, most big dinners we always attend in dress whites. And they’re too gaudy when I'm traveling.”

Rhian nodded. “Doesn’t stop a girl from liking new bling when she can get it. I think that’s what I like about being on a station - more chances to break out the personal kit rather than being stuck in uniform all the time.”

“Yeah.”

Calli was making good progress now, the bulk of the jewelry sorted. She came to the hover jewelry. That box, translucent to show off the pieces floating within, was well worn on all the edges. She’d found every excuse she could to wear that set. It was a statement she loved. She hesitated which collection to set the box with. Keep? Return? It wasn’t from his family’s collections and she wanted it, but it had been one of his gifts… could she stand wearing it anymore?

Reaching over, Rhian carefully lifted the box. “I think this one needs to be kept for the time being.” That wasn’t unbalanced feelings she was seeing on the woman’s face, but genuine nostalgia, letting Rhian know this piece hit a place deeper than her fractured relationship.

“Yeah. For now.” Calliope said. “Like the dresses. I can look at it again later.” She stood up and brushed herself off before bending to collect the tray and the stack of boxes to be left for Lance. She put them in Rhian’s arms. “Can you… pack and label all of this? I need itemized scans for each, so the Quinns don’t claim I stole something from the family estate.”

Resisting the urge to make a face at that, Rhian nodded. “Of course.” Truth be told, the statement told her a lot about what might have driven the wedge in things, though she was sure it was only the tip of the iceberg as she’d had next to no time to really know Calliope or her man.

Looking at the bed, the comforter flipped back on his side where he’d slept alone, Calliope sighed, stretching with her hand on the small of her back. There was a stabbing feeling in her gut. She knew it was the sense that she was betraying Lance. The self-loathing ache grew until she became dizzy with it.

Rhian carried the boxes outside before a thought struck her and she poked back in the room. “Should I …” She paused, her eyes reading the tension in the posture, a taut string quivering in anticipation of the strike.

“What am I doing?” Calliope whispered.

Quietly, Rhian set her burden on the ground as the soft question reached her ears. Folding her arms, she held herself in check for the moment, not knowing any words that would fall right on the situation at hand.

In one sudden motion, Calliope pulled the comforter straight over the bed, folding the top and tucking it down the side, as if she could make this whole mess neat and tidy. “I think I’ve had enough for now,” she told Rhian. “Let’s finish it this evening after shift.”

“Absolutely,” Rhian stepped back and retrieved her collection. “I’ll take these with me to be scanned and marked. Just shoot me a message when you’re free.” She flashed the Commander a smile and headed back to the office.

“Thanks,” Calliope said after her, sure that the syllable wasn’t really carrying everything she needed to say.