Subtextual Journeys (Part 11)

Posted on Tue Oct 28th, 2025 @ 4:02pm by Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Commander Irene Seya

1,810 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: How to See in the Dark
Location: City of Lorna, Barisa Prime
Timeline: MD 02, 1710 Hours

The safe house had gone still after the girls left. To Jean-Baptiste, their absence felt like a weight in the air--similar to when a storm passes through and leaves the zing of metal in the air.

JB hunched forward, elbows on knees, watching the large display in front of him. A red dot slid across the screen, then paused, the moved again. Another dot kept a slower pace, following the first as though tethered by an invisible string. Brionna and Zharia--out in the streets now, little ghosts being tracked thanks to their subdermal trackers that had been embedded in their trapezius muscles.

"They're heading east," JB said quietly.

He glanced over at Irene, who was seated on the opposite side of the Klingon security officer, Krin. To Krin's right, was his constant partner, Ng, monitoring comm traffic.

As the girls made their way back to the apartment where they had been kept, the place they called home, both began to feel anxiety creeping in, the uncertainty and the risk of what they were about to undertake catching up to them as they climbed the stairs on the stoop to the back entryway. Neither girl spoke a word to one another as they scaled the steps into the residence. It was a boarding house really.

"You've been gone a while," Kaurel's voice captured more than simple observation. Like many mothers, she had a way of voicing concern and passive judgement sprinkled with a warning, all while somehow maintaining a tenderness. But that tenderness was measured, she was not their mother.

"Sorry ma'am," Zharia responded with a tempered confidence. Brionna followed suit, "Yes, sorry, ma'am."

"Supper is on the table. Make sure you eat, but not too much," Kaurel ordered. "You are going with Daddy tonight. Someone important to meet."

The transmission came through in a soft series of blips. JB leaned closer, the pale green light of the screen splashing across his face. "They're inside," he murmured.

Krin grunted, arms crossed, his frame like a slab of iron. He glanced over at Ng, who was had placed one hand on his ear and looked to Irene.

"Commander," Ng said softly, not wishing to interrupt the transmission from the girls. "Lieutenant Commander Tucker is reporting that all four security teams are on the transporter pads, at the ready."

"What sort of lifesigns are we able to read inside the house? Anyone we could beam out?" Irene asked.

Ng shook his head. "The building has some kind of shielding that's turning away some of our audio and visual feeds--a transporter lock would be nigh impossible."

In the boarding house, Brionna and Zharia slipped their shoes off at the door like good daughters. The hall smelled of broth and starch, a sour trace of detergent that seemed to linger in the wood. Kaurel's voice had already begun its swinging orbit around them--soft, warning, entirely inescapable.

Zharia moved first, moving to the sink to wash her hands. They shook slightly, enough for Kaurel to notice. "Long day?"

"Yes, ma'am," Zharia said, again, a little too quickly.

Kaurel turned, ladle in hand. Steam rose around her head like a twisting halo. "Eat, but not too much" she said, but her tone had shifted. Something quieter under it now. It may have been suspicion or fear--it was hard to tell the difference in that house.

Brionna sat down at the table, her shoulders drawn-in. Zharia seated herself across from her and reached for a piece of bread. Her hand trembled so badly she dropped it. Kaurel gave a small, empty laugh. "You're nervous? Don't be. He likes his girls polite."

JB turned away from the screen a moment, staring at the wall instead of the feed. "How long until he gets there?"

"Two minutes," Ng said softly, keeping his ear-piece held steady. "A transport pod just arrived. Thermal shows two--maybe three--inside."

JB's stomach twisted. "Any security?"

"None visible. Just him and whoever he brought."

"We still have them outnumbered," Irene stated coolly. "For now."

The door to the boarding house opened. Kaurel straightened, flattening-out any wrinkles on her plain white apron.

A man stepped into the frame, his movements slow and purposeful. He carried the sort of confidence born not from strength but ownership. He took of his gloves finger by finger and smiled toward the table. It appeared to be a genuinely open and friendly smile.

"Evening, girls."

Behind him, another man appeared. He was balding, with wisps of wild grey hair around large ears. He was bull-necked with a large belly, contained only by a wide pair of pants and a leather belt. His shirt was of a foreign cut, black and silver frills around the shoulders. His expression was stuck in what could only be described as someone having been given bad news. His nose was pinched back, his mouth at a constant frown. A series of pockmarks dotted his cheeks and forehead.

Brionna's eyes flicked up just once, then down again. Zharia's lips moved in silence--maybe a prayer, maybe just breath.

Krin shifted beside JB, ridged brow furrowing. "You're sure we're not going in yet?"

JB looked to Irene, an expression of hopefulness written across his features.

"We haven't heard them use a signal yet." Irene shook her head, her eyes focused elsewhere, her ears focused in on the comms, listening for something less obvious.

Onscreen, Kaurel had seated herself and poured wine into a crystal glass, setting it beside the man's hand. The gesture looked quite tender. In the safe house, JB's pulse beat hard in his throat.

The sounds of the girls eating were imperceptible over the comms. It was ingrained in them to be seen and not heard in certain moments. This was not necessarily one of those moments, but it was not unusual for them to attempt to go unnoticed. In this world the less attention you drew to yourself, the better.

After just a few bites of stew Brionna put her spoon down. "Perhaps I should shower and change, ma'am? It was a little warm out today."

A flash of irritation crossed Kaurel's face as Zharia tensed. "Very well. Don't dally."

Brionna stood up quickly and carried her dishes to the kitchen. Brionna watched her then looked at Kaurel with questioning eyes.

"You too, I suppose," Kaurel said sharply, prompting Zharia to spring from her seat and scurry after Brionna. Kaurel's eyes narrowed as she watched after them.

Kaurel's voice carried faintly through the feed, his words indistinct but the cadence unmistakable--careful and deferential. It was the tone of someone who knew how to remain in favour. The man's reply came even lower. The second man said something to, a gravelly murmur. Then the audio began to stutter. It crackled for a few seconds then went silent.

"Ng?" JB's voice sharpened.

"Audio just dropped," he said, fingers moving quickly over his portable console. "Something is interfering with the feed."

JB stared at the screen. Kaurel and the man were still speaking, the whole scene framed by the dull light over the kitchen. Her hands gestured in small, neat movements. The man laughed--open mouth, a perfect set of teeth showing. JB couldn't hear it, but he could feel it. Through the feed, it appeared to be the sort of laugh that was purchased.

He turned to Ng again, but the security officer only shook his head. "Visual's stable, Lieutenant. Audio's completely gone."

In the bathroom, the pipes gave off a low-pitched whine. Zharia leaned against the sink, her reflection pale and small in the mirror. Brionna stood beside her, staring down at the rectangular grey floor tiles. A tear fell, landing with an inaudible splat on the porcelain edge before disappearing.

"I can't," Brionna whispered. "Zharia, I thought I could do this, but I can't--" Her breath caught in her throat and her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. Tell them I'm sorry."

Zharia's face softened. She stepped closer, placing a hand on Brionna's arm. "They can hear you," she said, quietly. "The security team is listening. We're not alone."

Brionna shook her head, tears coming faster. "I feel like I can't move. Like my legs won't--"

Zharia gripped her tighter, forcing her eyes to meet hers. "Her. Look at me."

As Brionna leveled her bleary eyes at her friend, Zharia spoke. "You remember what he said? There are others. Girls and boys like us. Some younger. They disappear when nobody fights. You stop now, they disappear. We stop this tonight, maybe they don't."

Brionna's lips parted, but no sound came from beyond them.

Zharia pulled her in, arms wrapping around her small shoulders. Brionna's face pressed against the neck of her friend, wet with tears. The sound was a half-sob.

Outside the bathroom, footsteps seemed to approach. Men's voices grew louder, still indistinct.

Zharia closed her eyes. "Just breathe," she whispered. "We'll do this together. When I squeeze your hand, that's the signal. You remember?"

Brionna nodded weakly.

"Okay." Zharia spun on her heels and turned on the shower drowning out the voices of the men, first with the groaning of the pipes and then swooshing sound of water flowing through the showerhead and the pattering of the drops against the shower walls. Without any sort of shame, Zharia began shedding her clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the water soak through her thick locks of hair. She took a moment to steel herself, but not long. There wasn't a reason to delay. This was like ripping off a bandage. Better to do it quickly and get it over with.

When she was sufficiently clean enough for the house mother to believe she had in-fact showered, she stepped out and found Brionna waiting with a towel.

Zharia took it graciously and dried herself before wrapping the towel around her body in a modest fashion. "Don't take too long. I'm going to try to reach Nerissa."

"What's she doing?" Irene asked. "Is she sending a comm? She wouldn't leave Brionna would she?" Irene asked. "Who is Nerissa, did she tell us?" Irene tensed, and stood up, uneasy that one of the girls was acting on her own without having cleared it through them first.

"If she sends a comm, I want to know what she says, and try to get telemetry on where it's going," Irene ordered.

Ng blew out his cheeks, feeling the pressure of this operation on his shoulders. "Yes, ma'am."

At Commander Seya's question, Jean-Baptiste had reached for and was now scrolling through a data PADD to refresh his own memory as to the identity of this Nerissa. He sighed after having skimmed the document.

"No mention of a Nerissa in her debrief," JB noted. "Nerissa may very well be another trafficked girl."

"Let's figure it out." Irene's order was matter-of-fact. Contingencies were planned for expected. "This could be a good thing."


~TBC~

RSS Feed