Reflections

[NDak 0]

Although he didn’t remember it had been over to full two years since he’d first sat in the Command seat of the RES Talon. They’d been addressing a Klingon infestation on the surface of a planet and t’Rexan was left with little choice but to place N’Dak in command of the Oira, while she attended to the injuries of the Former Executive officer, Daise Erei Riov Mijne t'Shaeni.

 

She’d directed him, at the time to “N'Dak, au have the oira, I wish to go speak with Daise’Erei’Riov tKsa. Don't scratch the paint. Don't **** my ship up. Don't touch anything more than au have to... And...stay khoi my seat!” He’d done the former…but the latter? As soon as she sat down, he’d made himself comfortable. Ultimately, she ended up slapping him across the face and sent him scurrying back to D’Heno.

 

Amusing how many times the woman would end up slapping him, literally or figuratively in the time they’d known each other. Perhaps, she could have saved herself a few grey hairs…and a hand if she’d simply vaporized him in the chair. Thankfully for him, the woman apparently saw some glimmer of potential in him and kept him around long enough for him to actually mature into a half decent officer.

 

Now he found himself in the command chair of the RES Talon, not remembering any of the experiences that had made Destorie N’Dak the man he’d been a few hours ago. Guided only now by his instincts and natural personality, the true nature of N’Dak would be unwittingly revealed to the crew of the Talon.

 

He’d worked tirelessly for years to create a visage of himself that the rest of the world saw, while keeping his true self hidden beneath.

 

The N’Dak everyone on the Talon had come to know and hate would never have shown the uneasiness which the one sitting in the Command seat now broadcasted as he shifted his weight nervously at the Talon cloaked and jumped to warp.

 

Two years ago, he sat in that seat…unnerved only by the thought of the return of t’Rexan to the Oira. Now he found himself unnerved by the creeping insecurity that he couldn’t even remember where his quarters were located.

 

On top of that, there was the issue of his bondmate. A women he barely recognized, and didn’t even know her name.

 

There were so many questions, and so few answers.

 

And with ever answer that did come, another new question bounded out. In Laehval’s chamber’s he’d seen her place a photograph face down and place it in her desk after she saw the picture. Why would she do that? The photograph could bring elucidation to here identity, but instead she’d gotten rid of it as fast as possible.

 

None of this made any logical sense at all, and maybe he’d read too much into the exchange. Laehval seemed as lost as everyone else, and though perceptions could deceive, Destorie did na get the feeling she was trying to manipulate the situation.

 

He glanced at the helmsman, who apparently was his brother. He had to admit the resemblance was indeed striking. His features weren’t as hard, and his eyes were softer, but no one could deny the family resemblance.

 

Destorie straightened in the Command seat. Lacking confidence would only worsen the situation more and more. If the crew saw the XO wavering, they would become restless. He would have to sit his own insecurities for the sake of the crew.

 

His resolution would have to strengthen. Questions about whether he was truly the man the computer said he was, would have to go unanswered. For now, he was that man; First Officer of a Romulan Warbird. His jaw line tightened, and his posture took a rigid form. Now he was the Executive Officer of the RES Talon.