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The storm

Posted on Tue Jan 1st, 2019 @ 8:47am by Commander Mercia Kavi

Mission: Jarland

Mercia stood in her now nearly emptied Memphis Island office, staring at a mirror as she tugged at the cuffs of her dress uniform. She had intended to get ready at home, but she was so beyond angry that she was snapping at Molly just for being hungry. Realizing she was poor company and not wanting to increase her parenting failures she activated the holo nanny and let Lyla know. Lyla had been a counselor with the Project Refit since before Mercia was a recruit, and over the years the two became fairly close.

Since Molly was born Lyla had become a sort of grandmother to the infant, Lyla herself recently married, but beyond an age of wanting her own infants, she helped Mercia with Mollys care, often taking the baby overnight to give Mercia a break or time to sort her crap out. Today was one of those days.

She dropped her hands to her sides and worked to relax her clenched fists and unbind her tight jaw. Her eyes were narrowed, her normally blue eyes were darker, and stormy. This was humiliating. She did nothing wrong, and yet she was having to bow and kiss the Prefects feet for the simple reason of him demanding it. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair.

There was a damn good reason she'd fight Grayson on the assigning her to do diplomatic liaison work. he thought it would be good for her. Ass hole. He set her up, and she was going to be damn sure he knew exactly what she thought. Admiral or not, father figure or not, he was going to hear about this. But first... she had to make it through the night.

She looked over her coiffed dark hair and checked one of the pins to ensure it was held smoothly. A flit of rebelliousness rushed through her as she pulled a few wild tendrils of hair from the perfect set to frame her face. By Regs her hair had to be fully controlled, but nothing about Mercia was fully controlled. She could rebel in little ways., and boy would she. The various blades hidden on her person was another way she rebelled. Diplomatic functions demanded she be weaponless, but Mercia was never with out weapons.

She gave herself a smug smirk as she checked her mild make up one more time before she sighed again. She was 100% certain she was going to throw up after this stupid apology, and thats if she even managed to get the words out.

Spinning on her heal she left the office and started to head down too the function hall. As she entered a lift she saw some other dress uniform officers and Romulans approach intent on joining her lift. She thumbed the door closed in their face. She wanted to be alone as long as possible.


tbc...

 

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