Fleet Admiral Red - CO, Beta Quadrant | "The Name Tag's The Last Thing You Wanted"

Posted on 241708.06 @ 5:58am by Fleet Admiral Blyx Red

Mission: Hush [BQ Plot]
Location: Cold Station Theta

“And the desk will go over here?” Blyx asked the foreman showing her around the build site. Vindicator had left with Jorgun no more than an hour ago and she couldn’t help but take the free time to tour the site of what would be her new home away from home. No one seemed to mind that she was there, if anything the foreman was relieved to see his work so very much appreciated by the notorious little five-star.

“Anywhere you want.” He nodded, looking over his shoulder real quick at minor commotion. A pallet had moved awkwardly, but in this environment with a few of his supplemental crew being untrained work horse types, it was to be expected. His return to the Admiral showed a woman who was relieved and seemingly placated by his words.

She nodded, smiling softly as she studied the space, “Here’s perfect. I have a bit of an affinity for the stars and watching the ships come and go.” She explained. He wouldn’t care, but small talk always got more than a curt nod and grunt. Some of the Brass knew nothing about hospitality or decorum, but Blyx? Blyx had been raised in a fine home by a fine family graced with true Antebellum charm that had survived centuries. While she could be as thorny as a rose, she often came away as a gardenia; sweet and decadent with powerful notes that were hard to forget. “I won’t keep you any longer. Thank you.” She nodded her dismissal, and as he left to complete his day, she turned to face the stars unknowing of the danger lurking behind her.

What happened next would become an infamous blur in her time line. A man, a young, large man came surging from across the deck. In an instant he was upon her, giving her no time to do much more than draw a sharp breath in rebuke before he jammed a cruel shiv into her tender body. She shouldn’t have sent Jorgun away… She should have known better, should have listened to reason and kept him there. He’d have been there. He’d have… She felt it lance through her skin, heard the way her uniform and body ‘popped’ as it was pierced and penetrated. She shuddered as the serrated nature of it shattered her third to last rib and struck a target of vital tissue somewhere south of her heart. Her left lung immediately deflated, and Blyx was left choking and gaging on blood her body expectorated in protest. She wanted to scream. She tried to scream. Her lips, quickly tainted by iron-rich vermillion, even mouthed the words, the name, she instinctively went to yell. Alek. Not ‘help’. Not ‘Get away’. Alek. The more she struggled, the worse it was… And his eyes. He couldn’t have cared less what it was that ran through her mind, to him she was a product of something he hated. She could see it. She could read it. She may have reached to try and dig her nailed into him, to hit him, but her mind was quickly beginning to fade as her body was deprived of oxygen and quickly beginning to bleed out as he forced her to remain standing. Alek. She tried to scream his name again, praying to the Gods that he’d come for her one more time.

The blade leaving her body nearly killed her right then and there, shredding tissue as it was removed, widening the hole upon exit. She coughed, wheezing as she tried feebly to draw another breath. It hadn’t come out smoothly, hanging up on the snapped bone of her broken rib and jerking her forward and to the left. The violence of the action cast her hair free as her head slung like a rag doll between the freeing of the knife and the quickness of the second blow, this time missing her ribs, but burying itself close… Her diaphragm. It was a miracle it missed her right lung, instead plunging back into the left and drawing away, ripping and turning its path to ground hamburger as it went. Wasted, broken, she was cast away. She was falling. Her knees buckled, her body limp, and she was close to unconscious before she ever hit the deck. Shock was a powerful thing, but even through it she could feel her pulse becoming thready. Blyx couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t do much more than rest there, the fingers of her outstretched hand twitching as her nerve impulses struggled to stay online, in a billowing pool of blood and a fan of raven hair cast about her head.

She was dying.
She couldn’t hear the yells of the men and the sounding of alarms. She couldn’t see the way her attacked had claimed his own life. She couldn’t smell or taste the iron of her own blood or feel anything more than the pain that conquered her senses (and even that was dimming).

It didn’t matter how many hands grabbed at her, or the fact the foreman stuffed torn bits of her uniform into the gaping holes, she knew she was dying… And the thought consumed her. Death… and Alek. Alek who had returned to her after so long. Alek who was likely lounging on her couch in wait of her return from work. Alek who had openly sobbed in her arms just a night before. He was there with her, in thought, when the black swam up to greet and consume her.


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To Be Continued...
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Fleet Admiral Blyx O. Red
Commander, Beta Quadrant
Cold Station Theta