To Dream the Twisted Dreams of a Twisted Mind...
“Sunin, are you all right?” Jennifer looked at him, pale head tilted to the side.
Temjuin shook his head a moment, looking about, he wasn’t supposed to be here… no matter. They had a mission to complete. “I’m fine, Jen.” He looked at her. Funny, he’d seen her all day, in one guise or another. But he looked at her like seeing her again for the first time. The pointed ears gave her away as possibly vulcan or romulan, but the full brown wavy hair, the pale skin and the fangs told the viewer that she was something entirely different; something not quite human or romulan. He smiled deeply; He had never seen a more beautiful sight. “Cover the east corridor. We’ll wait in the north end of the embassy. When the ‘guests’ arrive, tell me. We’ll need to time this right if we want the kindly hamorian ambassador to never know we were there. If you don’t report in twenty, we’re going in after you.”
Jennifer smiled. Such a sunny smile, Temjuin thought. A smile to die for. Or kill for. She turned tail and trotted down the corridor, muttering a spidery tongue. In an eye blink, she looked like another person entirely, some nameless federation paper pusher that simply had to be near the shuttle landing, hoping that some of their influence would rub of onto her. An excellent disguise that would allow her to do what was needed.
He waited with the package, Cegff wandering about the room lazily, Raven typing away at a console. Things for the past year had all gone according to plan, every operation a simple success. No leaks, no hairs, nothing to track them. With this, the operation would be over. Perhaps he would take some time off with his consort. He felt like sighing with the thought.
Jennifer came back in less than a minute. However, she was running down the hall, her spell of conceal self gone. She flailed her arms at Temjuin from across the hall,
“Cardie!” was all she was able to hollar out before the blast ripped out from behind her and a sinister rolling cloud of bright orange gas rolling behind her.
The scene seemed ridiculously slow as the gas closed the gap between the end of the corridor and her. An instant before the gasses caught up to her, the superheated concussion riding before it smote her of her feet, smote the flesh off her arms, her legs, ripped through her gut, spreading tiny chunks forward a few centimeters forward before burning out of existence. Her hair was consumed in an instant, and her face slowly disappeared beneath the flames, unable to scream, eyes already glassy and dead.
Temjuin could have laughed; The cardasians decided to attack the good ambassador. Something totally unrelated, something that no one could have forseen. Yet their single blow turned his team’s string of victories into a catastrophic failure. He wasn’t worried about his pathetic mission however. He simply stared into the oncoming cloud of fiery death.
“Run!” Raven had already abandoned his desk and was running toward the east corridor, Cegff not far behind. Temjuin’s feet turned to go, then stopped. He looked back into the cloud, oddly not much farther than it was several moments before, then turned and ran toward death. The flesh flew from his body as he moved forward, flailing the blood and guts from his bones unmercifully. He didn’t stop walking into the deadly headwind until he saw the remains of Jennifer, still levitated above ground, face still whole with her body ripped away like dust blown to the wind. The glassy eyes turned and focused on him, innocent and begging eyes that accused him of everything by accusing him of nothing. Then time started again, and the superheated winds flung them both into nothingness.
Temjuin woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. He ran a hand through his hair and tried not to breath so hard. I’ve had this dreams a hundred thousand times since she died. I ran then. Every instance afterwards, every time I replay those cursed events in my brain, I always do what I should have. I should have died with her.
There was one small inconsistancy, however. He was quite sure he was awake; His quarters the way he'd set them last night, the small group of old-style photographs in picture frames crowded on a small table closeby the bed, the intelligence terminal dark, insense wafting from their containers on either side. Yet Jennifer was still there, in all her dead and skeletal glory, sad eyes that pleaded to him a torture he found unbearably painful in the moments of the same dream he'd had for several years.
They followed him now, and he couldn't escape their melancholy stare, no matter where he tried to hide.