Masquerade! - Part 3/5

Posted on 28 Feb 2015 @ 4:50am by Petty Officer 3rd Class Ellsworth Hudson & Commander Andreus Kohl & Lieutenant Olsam Mott & Lieutenant JG Drusilla McCarthy & Trisant Myrddin & Commander Allyndra illm Warraquim & Lieutenant Aria Rice & Lieutenant JG Dorian West & Lieutenant Tuula Voutilainen M.D. & Commander Luke Wyatt

3,683 words; about a 18 minute read

Mission: Episode 07 - Sojourn
Location: Starbase 84 - Holosuite
Timeline: MD 07 - 2100

ON:

Ellsworth was growing a little frustrated with the mask he'd chosen for his outfit because the crown-like attachment was preventing him from comfortably resting his head against Kohl's chest. Part of him wanted to just remove it so, with cheek to chest, he could hear the other man's heartbeat as they swayed in time with the music. But removing it was dangerous. Removing it meant going back to being petty officer third-class rather than being among equals for one night as a seductive, charming Venetian noble.

"You're a pretty good dancer for a drone, you know," the young Betazoid said. He had to lean his head back more than usual to look Kohl in the eyes due to the limitations of the mask, but it wasn't necessarily as unpleasant as it might have ordinarily been because it gave him the sensation that he was falling and the only thing keeping him upright was the other man's strong embrace. There was something enjoyable in that - willingly giving up some control - for a person who was almost constantly struggling to be in complete control. "They seem so stiff and graceless. You must be a new and improved model, hm? One that knows how to move his hips?" Ellsworth took the opportunity to press his left hip against Kohl's right and then roll the pressure to the other side in harmony with the next few beats of the song, all the while grinning.

Kohl closed his eyes. He didn't want his other senses to dilute the signals his sense of touch was sending him. Although Kohl had an appreciation for a wide variety of masculine appearance and body type, he couldn't imagine anything more appealing than Ellsworth's taut body pressed against his own. In response to Ellsworth's question, Kohl could only manage to nod his assent and tighten his grip around Ellsworth's lower back. It made it more awkward to dance, of course, but it created more points of contact between them. That contact made it harder, still, to focus his thoughts on verbal communication. Like Ellsworth, Kohl had grown irritated by his bulky goggles and their rose-tinted lenses, but the intrigue prevented him from any thought of removing masks. And there wasn't anything his eyes could tell him that Kohl's fingertips couldn't discover by Ellsworth's pulse, and body temperature, and muscle tension.

Memories of Ellsworth's clever song and impressive performance returned to Kohl's mind, and his delight at Ellsworth's charm had certainly stirred Kohl even more than his physical form. And so, Kohl opened his eyes to look down at Ellsworth, and put further thought into his remark about Kohl being an improved type of Borg drone. "Organic beings have attributes we desire. Attributes we can't live without," Kohl said. He spoke slowly; his words thoughtfully considered. "We have frittered vast resources on combating resistance with offensive tactics. When all we needed to do was develop a dancing protocol. Seduce organic beings; make you beg for assimilation into our collective."

Ellsworth eventually realized his lips were parted and his breath was rushing between them like he'd just climbed ten flights of stairs. It was need, of course, that drove the reaction. Although to be fair, it was always lurking just below the surface for him, looking for an excuse to break out. Kohl was tall, handsome, quick-witted and eloquent, all of which was excuse enough. And it didn't hurt things that he'd plastering himself up against the much taller man like a second skin.

Pride and the quest for control meant he'd never begged for anything in his entire life, but Ellsworth now found himself on the edge of pleading for "assimilation." It was a rare thing for someone to turn the tables on him, to seduce the seducer, and anyone who could manage it awakened something primal inside of him. The sophistication of Kohl's accent, the ease with which he handled Ellsworth's body as they moved across the dance floor, his subtle and not-so-subtle physical responses, and the deep, thrumming, persistent beat of the Ktarian bossa nova were fanning flames within Ellsworth, the kind of flames that burned away what little reason and restraint he possessed in the first place.

The Venetian kept his eyes locked on Kohl, allowing that to be the pivot around which all his other movement seemed to revolve, as he changed his dance stance to something a little more light-footed to better manage the differences in their heights. Eventually he positioned himself so that he could slide his arms comfortably around Kohl's neck and bury both hands in his close-cropped hair. It took a little work but he managed to get just enough of a grip there to pull at a handful of hair, forcing the follicles to strain and the nerves to flare until they were up against a line that Ellsworth knew very well, the sensual cusp between pleasure and pain.

"Attributes you desire? Attributes you can't live without?" Ellsworth repeated teasingly. He pulled insistently but not roughly at Kohl's hair until the Argelian's chin raised and his neck was more exposed, allowing him to paint light strokes with his lips along the exposed skin as far as he could stretch; a tongue was almost hidden between them, sharpened to a point that carved wet lines along Kohl's neck in sync with the bass notes of the sensuous music. "Do you crave my biological distinctiveness? Do you yearn to add it to your own?"

Head back, body tense, Kohl breathed out a soft whimper through gritted teeth. He was hardly dancing now, it was barely a shuffle, because he couldn't anticipate Ellsworth's dance steps any longer. In fact, Kohl had lost track of when Ellworth had been the one to take the lead in this dance. Kohl's posture relaxed, and he offered himself in surrender. "We" --he breathed in sharply at another tug at his hair-- "require your biological distinctiveness inside our collective. We cannot go on, unless you become one with the Borg."

Ellsworth let out a throaty growl in response. Every word the man said, every beat of his heart, every movement of his body against Ellsworth's was beginning to drive him mad. If they had been anywhere other than the dance floor, even in the shadowy corner of the room, he'd have grabbed him by the-

A high-pitched scream filled the room, like someone had stepped on the tail of a Firalian screech-cat. There was a commotion near the hors d'oeuvres set up on a nearby table, someone with blue hands struggling to free themselves from a helmet that didn't want to detach. The screams just kept coming, over and over and over again, so quickly and loudly that whatever had been happening with his mystery man was thoroughly shattered. The person was clearly in a great deal of pain and anguish, feelings that came rushing over him like a tidal wave.

Breathless, Ellsworth looked from Kohl to the man and back again. The mood was gone, of course, but Ellsworth was ever the idealist. Anything could be salvaged, right? He started to say something to Kohl but another shriek came, and he seemed to be the only person near enough and willing to help. Inwardly, he cursed vehemently, using words he'd never let actually cross his lips. Whoever this was had better be dying inside that thing, he thought, feeling an anger well up inside him as if someone had actually walked in on him in the middle of foreplay.

"Be still!" Ellsworth said, latching on to the person's helmet and pulling. The blue hands began flailing wildly, nearly slapping him in the face several times. The larger man seemed to be pulling the young Betazoid around as he tenacious held on to the helmet. They spun together like two planets caught in the same gravity well until eventually the helmet popped off with great force. It sent Ellsworth sprawling to the floor in an ugly impact, cushioned by absolutely nothing.

"I couldn't eat! I couldn't eat!" Olsam gasped, clinging to the table of hors d'oeuvres with both hands. It seemed like he should have been saying "breathe," but given the way he was eyeing the shrimp one began to wonder.

Ellsworth lay on the floor motionless, staring through the legs of the crowd of people suddenly pressing in to investigate the commotion. He searched through them to try to find his mystery man, if only to ask him if they could see each other again, to violate the inherent safety of their anonymity for the promise of fulfilling the potential that had existed between them, but he seemed to have vanished.

In Luke's hold, Dru's attention was drown to the shouts and chaos which seemed to be occurring on the other side of the room. As she heard the words screamed He's choking!!!! she instinctively pulled away from her dance partner and ran across the room.

The sight of a Bolian clinging to a table and turning....darker blue in the face was one which may have caused humour in the past but in this instance it caused just fear.

Moving to his back, Dru pulled back her fisted hand before thumping down hard on the broad back of the patient, trying her hardest to dislodge whatever was causing the choking episode.

At the sight of a woman coming to the aid of the shrieking Bolian, Kohl turned away from the scene at the buffet. He craned his neck to search for his precious Venetian Noble in a mask. Kohl's peripheral vision remained blocked off by his damnable goggles, which left Ellsworth well outside Kohl's current field of vision. Kohl turned to the left and to the right, and then he turned in place, spinning a full circle to search in all directions. Through the crowd, Kohl thought he spotted his Venetian Noble slowly swaying on the far side of the dance floor. Kohl navigated his way around the dancers standing between him and his Noble, and as he grew closer, Kohl started to push his way through. Kohl approached the man dressed in white from behind and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Your biological distinctiveness will be mine," Kohl said in his ear, and his hand snaked down his chest and closed across the man's throat.

The man in white turned around, and it was only then that Kohl noticed he wasn't a Venetian Noble. Rather, this man in white was wearing an ivory tuxedo. Furthermore, despite the mask, this man in white was clearly a dark-haired Bajoran.

"My what will be whose now?" Trisant Myrddin asked his boss.

Kohl would spend the next twenty minutes trying to explain his behaviour, to avoid an awkward conversation with Stace and Starbase Security. Back at the buffet, Dru continued her life-saving attempts on Mister Mott's hunger games.

Allyndra had moved around the periphery of the room watching and wishing someone would talk to her and maybe ask a dance. She felt that loneliness descend upon her yet again. Thinking she might leave she started moving toward the door but then a commotion from the buffet table caught her attention and it did not take much to figure that the rather rotund figure in deep blue was her own Assistant Chief. She made her way over.

"What is wrong? Can you speak?" She asked Mott.

Olsam was still wheezing as if a Nausicaan had just been choking him. Somehow in the commotion he'd managed to shove three jumbo Bajoran shrimp into his mouth - whole - the last of which was just disappearing into his mouth when he turned around to face Allyndra. He was still several shades darker than usual and had a wild look in his eyes, like a man lost for too long on a lonely desert island.

"I couldn't eat," Olsam said, reaching out a hand to pat Dru on the shoulder in thanks. Her attempts to "save" his life had actually helped one of the shrimp slide down his throat easier, and for that he was immensely grateful. He took only brief note of the small man sprawled on the floor before turning back to Allyndra. "That helmet got stuck on my head, and I couldn't eat! It wouldn't come off, and there's no food hole. Who designs a mask without a food hole? It was horrible. I thought I was going to die!"

Allyndra was relieved that Mott was alright. She observed him for a moment, though he could now talk which was a good thing but the last thing they needed was to find out that he had a allergy to shellfish. Bolians could consume a lot of things but that did not make it universal across the group without some problems.

"A terrible design to be sure," Allyndra replied with a light tone and then winked. "Well then, all appears well, no ill effect? Well, good sir, perhaps then you can spare me a few moments of your time."

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm okay now," Olsam said, swallowing a mouthful of shrimp and eyeing a crabcake on the table. Miraculously, he managed to shift his attention back to Allyndra. Was it his imagination, or was she speaking strangely? And what was the thing she was holding, a wand? The concept of a masquerade ball had almost been completely lost on him, though he'd gathered it involved some degree of theater. But just how much, he wasn't sure. "Of course, I've always got time. You're not gonna turn me into a squid or anything, are you?"

Allyndra laughed and shook her head. "No, indeed not. I think that is some other magical being from Terran history that does that." Though she thought to herself that with all the seafood he had been downing he was going to do that all by himself.
"Well while I have you here, could I please ask for a dance? It has been a long time since I danced with another."

Olsam wondered if the Chief Medical Officer and the Assistant Chief Medical Officer were supposed to dance together. Was it somehow a conflict of interest? Were they not meant to be a in-built checks-and-balance system within the ship's medical department? Eventually, he shrugged. Ethical complications had certainly never stopped him from doing what he wanted in the past, so there was no reason to start now.

"I won't tell the Starfleet Medical Ethics Board if you don't," Olsam said, taking up one of Allyndra's delicate hands and sliding his arm around her waist. With practiced effort, he guided them to the dance floor and fell into perfect step with the waltz. "I'm just about tired of all their inquiries, anyway."

"Oh, the Twins take them all. Let me just enjoy one dance at least and if it upsets the balance of the universe then so be it!" Allyndra had learned a bit of Terran style dancing in the Academy and while the two of them would not set any records she moved with Mott.

She liked him, a lot. He had his quirks but overall he always seemed to have a good outlook and his inquisitive nature appealed to her. He was going to make someone a very lucky partner one day.

"Ah," she said as she moved with him. "Isn't all ethics situational anyway?"

"Well I've always maintained that but to hear the Starfleet Medical Ethics Board tell it you'd think everything is just written in stone. What's the sense of having ethics if you're going to codify it into laws and regulations, you know? It really ought to be a more fluid concept. It is on Bolarus, at least," Olsam mumbled. "I think they put people on that board that have never practiced medicine a day in their life. Sometimes you have to make tough choices in the field, and then here they come wanting to investigate. All the time, investigating."

Allyndra laughed and agreed, "So true, so true. Now let's just make a few more sweeps and I think by that time they are going to refresh the food table. I see trays coming."

"You do?" Olsam asked, almost letting go of her in the middle of a turn in the box step of their waltz. He kept craning his head to look in the direction of the table to verify her statement until he finally spotted a waiter with a tray, then he relaxed (as much as possible) and turned his attention back to Allyndra.

Allyndra made a spin and that went into a much practiced fluid deep curtsey. She held it for a moment and then with the same much practiced fluid motion stood and then on impulse kissed Mott on each cheek. "Thank you for the dance," she whispered and then suddenly feeling embarrassed turned and disappeared into the crowd.

"You're welcome," Olsam said, though he realized he was speaking to thin air by the time he managed it. Nothing had seemed odd about the exchange in his mind, and he just assumed she was in a hurry to get to the refreshed punch bowl. He shrugged and then began gracelessly making his way off the dance floor in a straight line toward the buffet table, bumping into couples right and left in his tunnel-vision approach.

Sending a slight wave in the Bolian's direction, Dru looked around and realised that her dance partner had slipped away. The crowd was starting to settle back together after the show and presented an opportunity for the counselor to slip away. This had been too much excitement for one woman.

---

Aria knocked back her drink, smiling gently behind her mask. She loved the dress she wore...loved how it felt to walk around in it. Luckily, she wasn't that noticeable. Not compared to some of the outfits. She smiled as she saw the Musketeer standing there. He looked...well, good. Familiar too. She tilted her head, walking over to him. "Buy a woman a drink?" she asked bluntly, with a smile.

Dorian laughed at the up front demand, taking his hat off to make sweeping bow to her. "Well hello to you, Miss O'Hara....Aria O'Hara....bloody hell, never get married to someone with the last name O'Hara. Come on, anyone looking this beautiful deserves a drink..." he took her by the hand, pulling her into a gentle run to get to the long table of refreshments."

Aria laughed, holding his hand as she watched him. "Well, a lady can always be kidnapped by a handsome Musketeer...or dance with him..." she looked at the table and helped herself to the punch that had been placed out. "I am second and third guessing my outfit though. I was considering coming in something shorter that I could dance properly in..." she winked but realised it didn't show very well behind her mask.

"Absolutely not," Dorian mocked a horrified look. "Look at you, a proper lady....a full on belle of the ball. No, this is just perfect for a more formal fancy dress, elegant and classy lady that you are," he assured her, touching the sleeve of the green frock with a smile. "Come on, let's show that outfit off and make it ripple," he whispered with a grin, seizing hold of her hand to pull her into his hold, dancing her into the middle of the room.

Aria watched him with surprise, letting out a quick squeal. She smiled and moved with him, letting him lead as she just...was swept away. She looked up at the strong jaw, the beautiful lips, the eyes playful behind the mask...and being held so firmly by Dorian, him so confident and strong...it made her shiver with delight. Who had thought that he'd be such a good dancer too? She didn't care, didn't mind anything...in this moment, as she moved across the dancefloor, the impossibly big skirt following their movements...she felt like a princess.

---

From across the room, Tuula's eyes caught a glimpse of her sister. Jaana was sitting alone, sipping her drink. Looking down at her legs and the dress that Jaana made for her, Tuula decided that it wouldn't do for her to have all the fun. After all the works she put into it, Jaana deserved to have an evening as special as hers.

"Excuse me," she said, tapping on the shoulder of the most attractive man not already taken that she could find, "I know this may sound odd, but will you please ask my sister to dance? She's over there, with the black dress and purple hair. It would mean so much to her... and to me."

After having been left alone after the near death experience one of the masked crewman faced he found himself fading back into the crowd with his champagne half empty when someone tapped his shoulder. He had just turned when she asked the favour and he smiled behind his hidden face. "I am not a very good dancer but... I guess I can help a damsel in distress!"

"Thank you, thank you so much," replied Tuula, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. Something about him felt and sounded a little familiar, but with the mask on, she couldn't quite place it.

TBC:

PO3 Ellsworth Hudson
Quartermaster
USS Galileo
[PNPC Mott]

Lieutenant Commander Andreus Kohl
Chief Research Officer
USS Galileo

LT Olsam Mott
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS Galileo

Lieutenant JG Drusilla McCarthy
Assistant Chief Counsellor
USS Galileo

PO3 Trisant Myrddin
Stellar Cartographer
USS Galileo
[PNPC Kohl]

LCmdr Allyndra illm Warraquim
Chief Medical Officer
USS Galileo

Lieutenant JG Aria Rice
Security
USS Galileo
[PNPC Devin]

LT JG Dorian West
Counsellor
USS Galileo
[PNPC Blake]

Lieutenant (J.G.) Tuula Voutilainen, M.D.
Medical Officer
USS Galileo

LT JG Luke Wyatt
Chief Security Officer
USS Galileo

 

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