Sanctuary, Disrupted
Posted on Fri Jul 25th, 2025 @ 2:11pm by Lieutenant JG Elen Rell & Sergeant Jace Morven & Captain Niun Standing Bear & Ensign Magnus Daire
5,070 words; about a 25 minute read
Mission:
Prologue
Location: USS Guinevere | Deck 20
Timeline: 2388
An unused bit of Jeffries tube that didn't get removed when the end was permanently blocked off in a quiet, out-of-the-way spot. Tonight would be his second attempt. Magnus lay in the curve, a blanket pulled across his lean body, a PADD balanced against the tops of his thighs, a small pillow behind his head. Tonight, he was continuing his research into the years 1795 and 1837j on Earth. George was regent while George III was ill; this nine year period spawned a number of romance novels and someone had asked.
Rabbit holes to date -- Kings, Regents, England, George III, Madness, Bipolar Disorder, Acute Porphyria, Fashions of the Period including Undress, Half Dress, and Full Dress. And he was just getting started. Tonight's rabbit hole was a discussion of the Tory Party, The Whig Party, and Limited Monarchy. The White Raven had agreed to do a series on Regency England and that meant research. Beside him on the deck plate was a pot of tea and one slightly dented metal cup with its contents half-consumed, and a forgotten cookie, well on its way to becoming stale.
Deck 20 again. Jace had made the decision to return, thinking the young man with the nest wouldn't risk being in the same space twice. His steps were quieter now, more assured...there was a subtle rhythm to the way he moved here. He knew this deck now, had memorised its corners and contours, the way the hum of the ship seemed to change with each new space.
He wore his uniform, minus his sidearm, a choice made without thought. The knife was still tucked in his boot, and the mint tin in his pocket was a quiet reminder of something grounding, something that tied him back to himself. Another protein bar nestled beside it, its familiarity a comfort he didn’t need to think about. His hands were gloved this time, not combat gloves, but fingerless ones in dark green. Wool. The weight of them settled a little something in him, the tension between his brows loosening for a moment, his jaw relaxing slightly, as if the fabric had a way of quieting that edge he couldn’t shake.
His boots made little noise against the deck plating, his posture still, watchful, as he approached the corner. He’d been careful, calculated in his steps, moving like someone who didn’t expect to be surprised. He’d planned for the possibility that the man wouldn’t be here, but that didn’t mean he had ruled it out completely.
He turned the corner and stopped.
He had miscalculated.
The man was there.
A brief, silent pause. Not out of shock, but more from the weight of that quiet certainty Jace had built in himself being disrupted. It didn’t rattle him; it was just...unexpected. His shoulders tensed for a fraction of a second, then relaxed just as quickly, a shift only noticeable to someone paying attention. He remained in place, studying the scene in front of him, his body still calculating his next move, the way he always did. He didn’t move forward, didn’t step back...he simply let himself be present in the moment. He wasn’t here to force anything, but to understand.
It was just him. And the other man.
Not alone. A lifetime on Freecloud had gifted Magnus with an almost supernatural ability to know when he was no longer alone. He continued reading and hoped that the peace offering he had left would be enough that he wouldn't have to remove this spot from the list. It was, after all, so perfect.
Jace’s eyes landed on the spot where he had left the protein bar. A data cube, perfectly balanced in the same place. An offering.
His gaze flickered back to the man, still in his corner, untouched by the disturbance Jace’s presence might have caused. He moved toward the cube, each step measured, deliberate, his boots silent against the deck. When he crouched down, the motion was fluid, controlled. His gloved fingers hovered for a moment over the cube, inspecting it with the same precision he’d use in a high-stakes operation. His eyes scanned the area, checking for anything that could trigger an automatic response...anything that might cause him to hesitate or react.
Finding nothing, he picked up the cube, stood with the same calculated ease, and slid it into his pocket with a brief motion, no hesitation. No words. Just action.
Without looking back, he turned, walking away with the same controlled pace. But in his mind, there was clarity.
This was the last time he’d come here...unless duty or mission called him. This space no longer belonged to him.
It was the other man’s now. A place where he could be, undisturbed. A place of safety, of reprieve.
For another survivor.
A whisper of relief slid through Magnus' slight frame as the certain knowledge came to him that he was, again, alone. Or at least as alone as one could be on an overcrowded starship. He hoped the peace offering would be enough and that he wouldn't be forced to abandon this spot but that was a problem for another day. For now, he was alone (safe) and he could concentrate. He was back to studying almost at once, occasionally asking the ship's computer system to make notations for him in his private files. Questions that needed answering and the first ideas for the series he would be creating.
Elen Rell was searching. Well, retracing steps, really. But it felt like a hunt. She was looking for her favourite ODN recoupler. It wasn’t rare or hard to come by, but it fit her hand just right; something she hadn’t realised mattered until she’d started using it. She’d been working on Deck 20 earlier, following the trail of breadcrumbs that had led her from Engineering, trying to track down a minor power leak. Not a huge problem, but enough to get under her skin.
That had been hours ago. Now she was off shift, and searching in the quiet, the kind of searching that happens when your brain still wants to finish a job, even when the shift’s over. She’d thrown on her crochet cardigan - red, white, and black granny squares sewn together in a way that didn’t quite follow any obvious pattern but felt like home. The bright scarf she’d braided into her hair swung over her left shoulder.
Her eyes darted around the corridor, her teeth gently biting her lower lip in concentration. "Okay, if I were an ODN recoupler... where would I..." She stopped mid-thought, as if hitting an invisible wall.
And then she felt it. A flutter. Fast, racing, like a river behind a forcefield. She pulled in, shrank her awareness, and just like that, it vanished, as if it had never been there. But someone was here.
Elen’s eyes flickered around, scanning the space. She recognised it immediately...an unused section of the Jeffries tube, tucked away and forgotten when the end had been permanently sealed off. A perfect spot to get away from it all. Quiet, out of the way. A space someone could claim, if they were inclined to. Someone had claimed it.
Moving closer, she saw him. She had no idea about his name but he looked familiar. Science? Operations? He was looking incredibly comfy though, tucked into the curve of the tube, with a blanket. A PADD balanced on his thighs, the soft glow of the screen illuminated his face. There was even a pillow! Genius!
So, a person who knew how to carve out a little corner of comfort, even in the most unexpected places.
Hiding away?
Elen tilted her head slightly, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she let out a soft sound, a cross between curiosity and amusement. "So...have you broken the hide-and-seek record yet?" she asked lightly, her voice warm with a touch of affection.
Magnus surged to his feet, the PADD tumbling out of his lap and onto the deckplate, as the blanket fell away. He reached down automatically to retrieve the PADD, checking it for damage, as he started to gather up his things. "I ... I don't know what that is," Magnus said. His gaze traveled to her face, met her eyes, and dropped again almost immediately.
Elen blinked as he surged up, instinctively shuffling back on her knees to give him space, palms lifting in a gentle, open-handed sort of apology. “Woah…hey, no need to bolt,” she said softly, her voice dipping to something soothing. “Honestly, wasn’t trying to bust up anything. I’m Elen. I was just retracing my steps…looking for a missing ODN recoupler. Favourite one, fits my hand just right, you know?” She paused, eyes flicking down to the blanket, the little makeshift space, then back up. “I think I left it up here somewhere hours ago. You haven’t seen it by any chance?”
She tilted her head, a half-smile curling her lips. “Hide and seek’s what grown-ups tell kids to play when they want a few minutes peace. One counts, everyone else runs off to be very quiet in very small spaces.” Her grin warmed, her voice slipping into something a little more conspiratorial. “I once spent two hours in a vent on my birthday just to win. Not because I wanted the prize or anything. Just…everything was too loud that day, and it was nice, in the vent. Just me and the hum of the ducts.”
She paused for a moment. She looked down, then back at him, and her tone softened again, more tentative this time. “You’re...well, I think I’ve seen you around, yeah. You alright staying here? I can double back and look for the tool later if you want the space.”
"No," Magnus said, his voice softened, subdued, "I think I'm done here." He started folding up the blanket as he considered what she had said. "ODN Coupler. It's near an access hatch twenty feet down the corridor. I'm Magnus but Starfleet thinks of me as Ensign Daire, Quartermaster." The blanket folded he stuffed it into his backpack followed by the small pillow. "As for games." He shrugged lightly. "I've never played any."
She looked at him, guilt tugging at her chest. She hadn’t meant to drive him off. Her voice softened. “Quartermaster,” she repeated, offering a quiet little nod of respect, even as her eyes dropped away.
“Games are…” She gave a faint shrug. “Well, now I’m older, I lean towards the clever ones. Puzzles, mysteries. Things you can untangle slowly, on your own or with someone, no rush. I usually frustrate people when I try playing properly though...turns out my brain doesn’t follow the same straight lines as everyone else’s.” Her smile curled crookedly, apologetic but fond.
She shifted back until her spine found the bulkhead, cardigan spilling out across the deck as she tucked one leg up beneath her. Chin to knee, she let her eyes linger on him, not prying, just...there.
After a moment, her fingers idly brushed the fabric at her knee. “There’s this spot on Deck 22...starboard side, just past hatch alpha-five-delta. Weird little architectural quirk. Feels like a hallway that forgot to go anywhere. But it’s got this window, and a Jeffries tube tucked in nearby. The view’s lovely...one of those corners that doesn’t get much foot traffic, despite the Green Kiss being on the same deck.” She wasn’t sure why she’d told him. Just that he looked like someone who might need a quieter kind of place.
"I'll ... check it out ...," Magnus said. In his experience, Starfleet officers tended to wrap a sort of false kindness in politeness and platitudes but this seemed more genuine. "I do like holodeck programs," he said after a moment. He emptied his tea cup and stored the cup and thermos in the backpack as well. "Mysteries and the like. Have you ever experienced them?"
Her eyes widened and she nodded quickly, fingers drumming lightly against her knee. “Oh, there’s this brilliant one...I’m terrible with names, but you can choose to be either a noble or a servant. I always go as a servant, just because a noblewoman can't move as easily through the castle. And then there’s a murder, and you have to solve it without being accused of being a witch or, you know, the murderer.” She grinned at the memory, head tipping back, curls brushing the bulkhead.
“I failed. Twice. Nearly got burned as a witch once. The second time I tried to sneak out and fell off a tower. Safeties are definitely your friend.” She opened her eyes again, catching how he moved, how methodically he packed. Something in that settled movement landed softly in her mind. He’d offered her a thread....a preference, a piece of himself. And to Elen, that was connection.
“Your blanket’s nice,” she suddenly said, the words popping out without filter, gentle but earnest.
"Thanks. It's just an old one that was in storage. Left behind by some crewman once upon a time." Magnus, who finished packing as he spoke, let his thoughts drift back to the first one. One of his, written by the White Raven, in 'her' first effort. Less than six percent of users explored the romance angle. There had been six different endings depending upon the choices the individual made. Statistics reported back by the program indicated that more than half chose the noble, a mistake that Elen had avoided, and a full thirty percent ended up poisoned at the formal dinner. "I think I remember the first one," he said. "Seawatch. A family estate in England, wasn't it?"
"Yes, that was it," Elen said, smiling as she nodded. She looked at him properly then...studying him, but gently, without pressing. She didn’t reach out, didn’t quest. He looked like someone on the verge of disappearing again, and she respected that.
“I really liked it,” she added, thoughtful. “Not usually my jam, I can give you phase variations and the exact noise a warp core makes when it’s going from ‘okay, struggling’ to ‘dump me now.’ But Earth history?” She made a small face, tugging her cardigan tighter with one arm as the other wrapped around her knee. “Also, the bodice? Majorly restrictive. But I really liked the story, the mystery.”
Magnus nodded. Restrictions, in clothing, in behavior, in station, had been a recurring theme, one of several. White Raven had learned since then with the later efforts being much more popular -- the latest was about a resistance fighter in World War II. The research for that had been both difficult and eye-opening.
"If you had your choice," Magnus said, "what would you prefer?"
“Like… in general?” Elen blinked, startled by the scope of it. Her brain did that thing it always did...opened a dozen doors at once and invited every idea to rush in. Time periods, aesthetics, fictional holonarratives, places she'd never been, smells she'd never smelled. It was too much.
Her fingers went to her cardigan almost without thinking, tracing the rows of treble crochet, a rhythm she knew by feel. Grounding.
She glanced at him again, a touch sheepish. “Sorry, that’s... a big question. My head gets a bit busy with stuff like that. Feels like trying to pick one note out of a whole symphony.”
A breath, not quite a sigh. Then, more gently: “I’m from Mars. Grew up in one of the older domes. So... I think something from the early colony days, when it wasn’t just science teams and pressure suits. When people started planting things in soil, not just hydro trays. Hanging windchimes. Writing poems about dust.”
She smiled, a soft quirk of the mouth. “That bit, where a place starts becoming a home. That’s the time I’d like to see. Possibly with a mystery or murder, obviously.”
"Makes sense, I guess," Magnus said as he shouldered his backpack. "Preferring to experience things from your own world's past rather than someone else's." He sighed quietly, his gaze drifting off to the side for a moment, as his agile mind began considering the problem. He had centered on a world he'd barely experienced because of an acquaintance at the Academy. But he didn't need to stay there certainly. The Federation was full of worlds that could be used as backdrops, mysteries woven into the history of the world, questions that had gone unanswered. He needed his own workshop holoprogram; he needed to think, to plan, to research. Both of his alter egos received numerous requests, he could start there to see which world was most often asked for (other than Earth).
After a moment, his gaze returned to her own, wary but not hostile. He could never return to this spot but she had offered another. "Deck 22, you said. But, what is the Green Kiss?"
“There’s other, more obvious dark corners for those after a quick snog,” Elen said lightly, shifting where she sat, but not rising. She could tell he was leaving...standing might spook the moment. “This place is too far for your ardent lovers caught in the moment. No one wanders all the way out there unless they’ve got a reason. Barely any foot traffic.”
She paused, fingers curling over the edge of her cardigan. “I only found it ‘cause I came out the Jeffries tube one day and... needed a moment.”
Her voice softened, still honest but not heavy. “Y’know. Just... somewhere quiet, where the air feels like it’s still yours.”
"Oh." There were things that women looked for in men and he had had it explained to him several times since joining Starfleet that he possessed none of those things. Four years away from the hard life of the homeless on Freecloud had left him with little interest in testing out the hypothesis. And so, he looked away for a moment, bringing his emotions under control, before continuing. "Privacy is hard to find on a spaceship," Magnus said, his gaze strayed toward the opening and the turn that would get him moving again. Away. "Especially when private quarters aren't an option. Thanks ... for the suggestion."
Elen gave a small nod, accepting that he was already halfway gone...not in body, not yet, but in that quiet way people checked out when the space stopped being theirs. She didn’t push. Wouldn’t. But she did keep her voice light, like maybe the world didn’t have to swing too far into serious just yet. “Yeah,” she murmured, brushing a curl behind her ear. “Privacy’s a bit of a rare ore on a ship like this. We’ve got replicators and warp fields and gravity plating, but a quiet spot no one else has claimed? Might as well be latinum.”
Her eyes drifted upward for a second, then back to him, her smile still crooked, soft around the edges. “I think sometimes we all need little corners of the world that don’t expect anything from us. No rank, no posture, no right answers. Just… space to be.”
She hesitated, fingers fidgeting slightly at the hem of her cardigan sleeve, then added, almost like a footnote...“If you end up trying that corner on Deck 22 and it’s too bright, I’ve got this old curtain from an engineering bay. It’s got a scorch mark but blocks light like a dream. I could rig it up for you. Or not. Totally your call.” And then, with a glance toward his backpack, her tone softened further: “Hope you find what you're looking for. In the PADDs, I mean. Feels like you’re...deep in it.”
He paused, touched by the gesture, though he was already shaking his head. "Too obvious," he said. "And I don't want to draw attention, well, any more than I have." He glanced around, shaking his head slightly. "One of the security guys has been checking this spot so it wouldn't have worked anyways."
He stayed a moment longer, studying her as though to glean intentions, waiting for the hunch, the one that told him stay or go. And when it came back, he continued. "People think it's because I'm damaged and, maybe I am, but, more, the job ... it's just ... you know ... not enough," he confessed, dropping his gaze to his feet for a moment. "So, I have my own projects. That's why I need the quiet."
She nodded, brow furrowing a little...not in pity, but thoughtfulness. Damaged, he’d said. But she didn’t see that. Didn’t feel it, either. Just...someone with a mind wired for more, same as hers. Same as Niun. Same as Jace, in his own quiet orbit. “If you need quiet, I mean real quiet,” she said, voice low and sure, “Deck 4. Jeffries tube by the lifeboats. Gets narrow there, too narrow for most to bother with, but then it opens up like this strange little bubble. Not quite a room, but nearly.”
She glanced toward him, not pushing, just offering. “Two ways in and out. And the sensors play up in that corner, always have. As long as you don’t set off a fire suppression system, it’s like being invisible.” She gave a half-smile, shrugging a little. “I’ve got a space like that in Engineering...barely used, nobody likes the hum. I think better there. Sounds like you’ve got your own signal too.”
"Deck 4, Jeffries Tube by the Lifeboats," Magnus repeated. "I"ll check it out. Thank you." He smiled, more a lightening of his habitually serious expression, than an actual smile but still, more than most got. "I prefer having regular spots than having to waste time hunting for new ones after shift. I appreciate you sharing the locations with me."
She smiled at that...small, bright, real, and nodded. “Might share more, if you want. Your blanket’s nice, but it’s… well, it’s something you picked up. From someone else. Would you be offended if I made you one?” Her fingers moved slightly as she spoke, like the yarn was already in them, phantom-threads itching to be woven. “I knit. A lot. It’s a compulsion. Quiets the brain, helps me think. I’m always looking for new projects to knit.”
She paused and then added, more gently, more deliberately. “But only if you’re okay with it. I know some people...need to choose what they keep. Not have things handed over without asking. I get that. That matters.” She paused for a moment and then said, her voice a touch lighter: “And honestly, you’d be doing me, and Engineering by default, favour. When I’ve got nothing to work on, my brain starts...deviating. Last week I put bunting up in Engineering. Fireproof, but definitely not regulation. Had to take it down before any proper officers noticed. So really...” Her smile turned conspiratorial. “It’s for the safety of the ship.”
"I'd ... I think ... I mean ... I'd like that," Magnus said finally, stumbling over deeper feelings as he often did, felt an unfamiliar warmth sweep through him. Riding on accompanying surge, he added, "and if there 's anything I can do for you in return, let me know. I can be useful."
"Oh, I don’t expect anything back! Truly." She looked at him then, eyes warm, open. A pause...then a small smile, softened at the corners. “Like I said...you’re already doing me a favour by giving permission.” Her hand curled slightly, not quite fidgeting, just grounding. “Once it’s finished, I’ll figure out how to get it to you. Your quarters, your station on shift...wherever you’d be most comfortable.”
She didn’t spell it out, didn’t press...but the offer was clear. Let him set the space. Let him set the tone. Not because she expected him to bolt, but because she understood the weight of choice, of boundaries. Not everyone moved like the polished poster officers of Starfleet. Some people needed space carved to fit them. She respected that.
"If its as good as you say it is," Magnus answered. "Then you'll find me there most nights. Working." He smiled, a shy thing, uncertainly resting on his face for a moment. "You'd be the first I ever invited."
Elen looked at him at that. Her smile softened, but didn’t shrink...it grew warmer, steadier, almost reverent in its quiet. She gave a nod, once, like sealing a promise. “Won’t give away your location,” she said, gently. “Scout’s honour. Or Engineer’s. Whichever comes with more snacks.”
Her fingers tapped lightly against her leg...not quite nervous, just energy trying not to overflow. Then, after a small pause, her grin tipped sideways. “Speaking of...might bring some. Snacks, I mean. Or a thermos. Martian blend tea. Maybe way too much chatting.” Her voice dropped a little, conspiratorial and fond. “I can’t always help it. But I’ll try to be...deck 20 appropriate.”
"Snacks are good," Magnus said quietly. "If that Security guy doesn't track me down, you'll be welcome. Always."
Second mention of the Security guy. Elen’s brain snagged on it, crochet-hooks out like a tracker with a hobby. She did like a mystery. “You got a stalker?” she asked, voice pitched to match his. Light. Dry. But her eyes had a glint of something sharper underneath. “If you want me to lay breadcrumbs the other way...or just tell ’em to back off, I can. I’m good at talking, me. I know, shocking.”
"He seeks out the same sort of places I do," Magnus said. "I crossed off three possibilities because I saw him prowling there and the fourth, I abandoned after his second visit." Magnus shouldered his bag. "I think he meant not to come back but I couldn't be sure. And the way he ... hunts ... well, I appreciate the offer but there's something about him. I wouldn't want to cause you problems. And he feels like a problem."
Her fingers paused mid-fidget, stilling against the edge of her sleeve. A flicker passed through her eyes...thought, maybe recognition but she didn’t speak for a breath. Just let the idea settle. “I don’t think he’s a problem,” she said at last, voice softer now, but without hesitation. Not quite committing, not quite backing away either. Just...a truth she could stand by, whether or not it was him. “People can feel sharp, or closed off, or hard to read... doesn’t mean they’re waiting to break something.”
She glanced up at Magnus then, just briefly. “But if he’s taking up space you need...I can ask around. See if he’s still hovering. Or just...gently nudge him away from your corners. Quietly. No fuss.” A pause, and then a light shrug, more warmth than worry. “I’m good at pretending things are coincidences.”
Generosity had never been a Freecloud thing. Life was transactional and to survive, you got, then you made sure to give something of equal value. Not greater because that got you the wrong label. Equal. Four years away from that life, Magnus had not forgotten what it was to be homeless and hungry. To be at the mercy of others. He had learned transactional life through thefts and beatings and mercenary greed.
And yet, there was something about her that was different. More ... trustworthy ... a fragile, soap bubble of a concept that felt transitory. Almost suspicious. "Doesn't mean they aren't either," he said at last. "And I would not like you to take hurt, or draw his ire, on my account. But if you can, warn him off at least, I could work in peace. That would be no small thing."
"I'm a big Martian girl," Elen said, voice soft but steady. She looked at him properly then, and the smile she gave wasn’t flippant...it was real. Quiet. “And no one’s ever turned their ire on me for long. I bounce.”
She didn’t say you can trust me. That felt too big, too sharp around the edges. But she could read the shape of what he’d just given her...not trust, maybe, but something close. A hinge. A weight shifted, slightly, in her direction.
“I’ll look into it,” she added, thumb brushing the edge of her sleeve. “If it’s him, I’ll talk to him. If it’s someone else, I’ll figure out who.”
She wouldn’t promise more than that. But if she could help him hold onto this sliver of quiet...his own bit of shade in the noise of the ship? She'd move the stars themselves.
"I don't have words," Magnus said after a moment. "It's too big a thing for a simple thank you ... refuge and peace ... those are words that have held so little meaning in my life. They are ... everything." He looked toward the opening and took a step away. "I need to think ... to explore. See you tomorrow night?"
Elen nodded slowly. She understood. Words could be too small sometimes...too sharp around the edges when you tried to use them for something big. And whatever his past had been, she wasn’t going to pry it open just to satisfy curiosity. “Yeah,” she said softly. “You don’t have to say it.”
She smiled, warm but not too bright, like someone keeping the lights low so your eyes could adjust. “I’m around. Quarters. Engineering. The occasional weird nook or corner.” A small wave of her fingers. “So I’ll see you. And I’ve got a feeling you’ll see me first.”
Magnus grinned, the urchin, wise to the ways of the streets, peeping through. "I"ll know," he said with a jaunty salute. "Always do."
Ensign Magnus Daire
Quartermaster
USS Guinevere
Sergeant Jace Morven
Platoon Sergeant
Alpha Squad
Federation Ground Forces Detachment
USS Guinevere
and
Lt. jg Elen Rell
Acting Assistant Chief Engineer
USS Guinevere
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