Unbridled surrender.

[Mara Tallen]

So there they were.

Two sets of four jagged claw marks apiece, marring one of the smooth durasteel panels in the ceiling of her quarters. It wasn't anywhere near her bed, or any other surface she and Morgan had used, so she couldn't share the blame with him.

No, they were up above the main doorway, the culmination of a series of scratches and nicks that got progressively deeper. Frankly, Mara was somewhat surprised that she hadn't electrocuted herself in the process. Luck, however, was on her side for that at least, but it was running out on the rest of her.

The problem was, that while she knew without a doubt that the marks were hers, she didn't remember making them. There was a gap of about four hours that Mara couldn't account for, time she should have spent sleeping. She sat atop her desk, cross-legged, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Amber eyes were dark and nearly lifeless as she fought for control of her senses, her beast gaining ground.

She must have broken through shortly after Morgan had left. It was the only thing Mara could think of, the only feasible explanation. Her beast had broken through and it had been strong enough to make her black out. That…was a sobering thought. It also hadn’t happened in over a year, since John and the emotional mess that Life Day had been. She’d wanted to forget that day and had willingly given herself over.

But this time? Mara hadn’t wanted to surrender control. It meant she was on the brink of losing it entirely, and it was only a matter of time until she seriously hurt someone. She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her forehead on top. What she needed to do was talk to Glayde first, then to Cirr.

And then to Morgan…but her beast paused at the thought of him, and retreated slightly. Mara wasn’t certain she wanted to know how much of a glimpse he’d gotten last night before he’d left and she’d lost it.

She breathed deeply as she gradually unfolded herself and padded barefoot into her bathroom. A glance in the mirror told her that she looked like hell – amber eyes were dark, almost lifeless, and utter exhaustion was etched across her features in stark relief. She lingered in the sonic shower, wishing for the umpteenth time that it was actual water. What she wouldn’t have given for soothing hot shower right then…a magical thing that afterwards, somehow made things look just the tiniest bit better.

Clad in standard olive-drab cargo pants and a pair of layered tank-tops, Mara laced up her boots and reached for her ID tags. Her fingers encountered a few bloodstained scraps of metal and chain, and she gingerly gathered them up in her fingers. She purposefully left her shatter guns behind and took tentative steps out of her quarters and over to Glayde’s door.

Pausing for several moments until she touched the access panel to buzz him, she replied without thinking as he answered.

“John? It’s Mara. I…need to talk to you.” she said softly, realizing belatedly that she hadn’t addressed him at all properly as her commanding officer.

[John Glayde]

John, huh?

That was a bad sign. There wa no Major. No 'sir'. No sarcastic jab at the fact that he was the Executive Officer now. That did not bode well at all; because every time in the past that Mara had ever called him John, things had wound up becoming complicated, and messy.

There was an air of reluctance and trepidation as Glayde crossed his own quarters. There was a cabin reserved for the First Officer somewhere else on the ship, apparently. It was probably bigger. Probably had a comfier bed. Balls to that. It was bad enough that he had all the extra paperwork and responsibility that came with his dual Naval and SpecForce roles. They'd taken away too much of his relaxation and scowling at annoying teammates time. They weren't taking him away from his team, though; they weren't taking away the fact that he got to sleep near where all the guns were stored.

The start of his duty shift was a long way off, and so he hadn't shaved. The Alliance didn't require him to - he supposed that when you had a military full of Bothans, and when you're ship was full of giant furry animal people, asking the Humans to have a little less fur on their face was a bit hypocritical - but he still did. Maybe it was a force of habit thing, left over from his days with the Scout Troopers and the Storm Commandos. Maybe it was still some residual Imperial indoctrination left over from before his defection. Whatever it was, it didn't much matter: it was part of the uniform; part of his uniform.

But now was downtime, and the uniform was ignored. The boots that he never seemed to take off made his footsteps resonate as dull thuds as he crossed the cabin towards the door, a hand jabbing at the controls to open it. He prepared himself to sigh; prepared himself for the inevitable frustration that these sorts of encounters with his squad usually brought. But he never got the chance.

"You look like hell." The words were out of his mouth before he even thought about it; but seven hells it was true. He'd never seen her so... different before; so not herself. He took a step back and to the side, opening up the entrance into his quarters for her. "You'd better come in."

[Mara Tallen]

She did manage to dredge up half a smile for him, though it got nowhere near her eyes. "I feel worse than I look, trust me." Mara murmured softly as she stepped inside, arms wrapped around herself as if she were cold, fingers trailing absently across her bare upper arms.

Her gaze barely registered any details about the space, save for where the big things were so she wouldn't bump into them. She paced to the far side of the room and then back again, steps slow and uncertain, and very much unlike her normal graceful, if slightly predatory, gait. She blinked as she stopped in the rough middle, glancing over at him with her throat working around a faint sound that could have been a word or a strangled sigh.

"I blacked out last night after Morgan left my quarters. I...I lost about four hours? Maybe more? I'm not sure. She took over completely." Mara swallowed hard and turned away, her flat gaze falling to the scuffed toes of her boots. "There are scratches on my door, claw marks up the wall above it, and gouges deep in one of the ceiling panels. And...I don't even know when I did this..."

She held out what was left of her ID tags, perhaps her most treasured belonging. Etched bits of Mandalorian iron were torn to shreds and bloodied, the strong chain snapped in several places. "I need to get off of this ship before I hurt someone." Mara whispered, blinking as she pulled her hand towards her, a fingertip from the opposite hand gingerly trailing through the carnage in her palm.

[John Glayde]

Conflict danced through Glayde's mind. The woman before him was many things; had been many things. Colleague. Friend. Subordinate. Lover. Each one dragged with it a swathe emotions: sympathy, concern, and relief amongst them. Very few people relished being out of control; those that did were spared the reality of being a lethal killing machine in that state. Glayde wished that supportive kinship was all he had to feel; and yet as her superior there were greater considerations, regarding the safety of the ship and it's crew. Worst of all - guiltiest of all - was the haunting realisation in the back of his mind that, had their lives followed a different path, it might have been him and not the bulkhead that her claws had torn through.

He pushed those emotions aside, locking them in the durasteel box where he kept everything that interfered with the cool and calculated professionalism he so frequently relied on. His mind analysed the situation logically and objectively. There was a problem - and there would be a solution. All he needed to do was find it.

"What do you need me to do?"

[Mara Tallen]

Blinking, she looked up at him, staring for several long moments, her gaze searching. For...what, she couldn't say.

She never had been able to figure him out. Morgan was much simpler to figure out, and the man was a Jedi. Then again, she and Morgan weren't complicated.

Mara shook her head and gathered what was left of her wandering wits. Her beast rumbled as she paced, leaving her to cling to control as she stood there and tried to remember to breathe. Fingers stuffed the shards into her pocket before she wrapped her arms around herself and let her gaze finally fall to her feet.

Maybe she'd stared at him too long. They had a long and very complicated history together, mostly highlighted by her inability to...well. It could just stay at complicated.

Freeing one hand she pinched the bridge of her nose and managed to utter a few words, her voice hollow and flat.

"I need emergency leave. Twenty four hours. I...I need to get out of here."

Frak, she sounded pathetic even to her own ears.

"Just need a day. Need to go surface side. Hunt."

[John Glayde]

There was contemplation in Glayde's eyes, and maybe a hint of regret. Mere months ago he could have granted her request without hesitation. Hell, he could have flown her there himself. Such was life as an agent of SpecForce's whims. Now though, things had changed; his responsibilities, and his accountabilities had changed.

His eyes focused on the desk as he spoke, choosing his words carefully. "I can approve your leave request," he began, starting with the good news as was always the best way with these things. His words caught in his throat for an instant. "But there's not much else I can do. I can't authorise the release of a shuttle; can't change our course to drop you where you need to go. You're my team, but -"

His shoulders sagged. "This isn't my ship."

With an effort, his eyes climbed to meet Mara's, laden with frustration and apology. "I'm sorry, Mara. You're going to have to explain it to the Captain."

[Mara Tallen]

There was a flicker in her amber-dark eyes, of some distant emotion. Maybe a thought, or perhaps a memory that danced just out of reach of her conscious mind. It fled quickly, leaving her to wonder if it had been something important, her silence bearing witness to her distraction.

She blinked, and drew in a deep if ragged breath, meeting his gaze. Mara found a smile somewhere, a tentative, tiny expression that flitted across her lips.

"It's ok." she said softly, her voice faltering in spite of her effort. "Would have to explain it sooner or later. Might as well do it now."

Stepping forward, Mara concentrated on setting one foot securely in front of the other. A hand splayed out against the wall beside the door, steadying her as she glanced over to John and simply watched him for a moment. With an energy she didn't think she had, she managed to straighten her posture and offer a proper salute before walking out the door.

Well. Walking was a relative term. Her right hand traced along the wall as she slowly walked down the hallway. The turbolift was mercifully close to the officers' quarters, and it was a short trip up a level to where the bridge and the Captain's office was. Mallin was just leaving the office as she approached and gave her a slightly wider berth than usual which made her wince.

"Is the Captain in there, Mallin?" she asked, voice strained but soft.

"He is...want me to tell him you're here?"

"I'd appreciate that, thanks." Mara found another tiny smile somewhere and nodded, waiting at the door until she was called inside.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"jIon drrjive parrtjicle jinjectjion...accountjing forr attrrjitjion jin rradjioactjive decay jin the medjium..."

This was his hobby time. Nothing immediately on his dockett, and so for 'fun', Cirrsseeto buried his nose in an advanced hyperfield textbook. Understanding the void and whatnot. Understanding how to cheat it all and go a little bit faster...

The Captain jotted some notes with a stylus with one hand, while another hand pulled a drawer free, revealing a discretely-placed cage where he palmed a decently-plump Thimiarr. The live stuff was a rare treat these days. Not exactly the easiest thing to score on a starship. Just before he could chow down, the comm interrupted.

"Captain? Captain Tallen's here to see you."

Damn.

Carefully, Cirr eased the Togrutan rodent back into the food cage, and closed the drawer back. Duty calls. And Tallen? She was Glayde's second. Why was she asking for him, and not going to her CO? Curiouser and curiouser.

"Enterr."

[Mara Tallen]

There was something alive in there.

The Captain was, of course, but he wasn't precisely her kind of edible.

It was something else. Tiny and cowering, chittering faintly from its hiding place.

Something that yanked her beast even closer to the front, where she left claw marks akin to the ones in the bulkhead across the inside of Mara's skull. Hunger tore its way through every last one of her senses, leaving them raw and stinging as if she'd poured salt on each and every one of them.

Finding control from someplace she couldn't name, Mara stopped in her tracks, just outside the doorway. Breathing deeply, she counted to ten in a succession of six languages before she felt she could manage fazing the Cizerack inside. She'd explained herself and her abilities so many times over the years that it had stopped bothering her.

But hadn't been forced to do so with her beast so close to taking control. Trying to explain her wasn't going to be so easy.

Mara managed to straighten her posture, finding some comfort in the fact that after she spoke to Cirr, she could go find Morgan. And that would make everything better.

"Sir." she said quietly, a noticeably dark and labored rasp in her voice. A salute was offered, properly angled and held for the right amount of time. Though it wasn't as crisp and smooth as it normally came.

"Sorry to disturb you..." Mara's voice trailed off briefly as her eyes unfocused, before she continued and finally met the Captain's gaze. "...but I just spoke to Major Glayde and he sent me here."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr reciprocated her salute, the pomp and correctness not nearly as painstaking as Mara's own.

"He did?"

Now that was damned unusual. SpecForce and Navy were like buffet items that might share the same plate, but never shall the food intermingle. Food metaphors, damned empty stomach. Still, he knew the kind of stickler for protocol that John Glayde was about these sorts of things.

Gesturing to the seat opposite his desk, he tidied up some of his reading materials.

"What's on yourr mjind, Captajin?"

Probably the best way to broach this. Was this even on the record? The fact that he didn't even get so much as a heads up from Glayde made him feel a little ambushed.

[Mara Tallen]

"The answer is really complicated..." Mara swallowed hard, arms wrapped around herself as fingers tightened on her upper arms. Gingerly, she lowered herself into the proffered seat, perching on the edge with a glance toward the door.

Her beast rumbled, ever-pacing, pulling threads of control away from her with every passing moment. She only hoped the rumble hadn't been audible...though, given that Cirr was a member of a felinoid race...well.

Mara tried to gather any thought that didn't involve the hunt or the taste of blood. There were so few it felt as if the silence lasted for an eternity, not a few awkward moments.

"Sorry, Captain...she's...she's very distracting when she's fighting me. How much...how much do you know about Felacatians?" she said as evenly as she could, blinking rapidly in an effort to focus her gaze. She failed and finally stopped trying, freeing her hands to rub shaking fingers against aching temples.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"Not all that much, rreally."

She's very distracting? Who is 'she'? Cirr had a feeling this was going to be a lot more personal and delicate than he thought. No wonder Glayde kicked this ball in his court.

"One of the cousjin specjies, eh, that's a Cizeri sayjing. Feljinojid metamorrphs, that's..."

The Captain gave a small shrug.

"...jI'm affrrajid that's about all jI know."

Tallen looked agitated, pained even. She certainly smelled different than usual, even when she was in metamorphosis. Cirr's ears lowered slightly as he leaned forward, resting his hands on his desk. Maybe that's what she means by 'she'. The other side of things. Cirr tried to think about the only other metamorph he knew - Lok s'Ilancy. She'd never seemed to have any kind of conflict with her processes.

Even if that were the case, she knew well enough where the infirmary was. Dr. Vek had plenty enough medical knowledge, even if his bedside manner was lacking.

He waited for Mara to explain. From her reluctance, he had a feeling this was going to be more than just a case of Felacatian measles.

[Mara Tallen]

"Well, tha..." her voice strained, it cut off as Mara fought for enough control to get through the next few minutes. He needed an explanation...a detailed one, not the usual quick overview she was accustomed to giving.

Finding some measure of it, she blinked. Where was she?

Right.

"...that's usually all there is to know with a full blooded Felacatian. They get a short formal leave granted every eight weeks, almost like clockwork, if they're based on board a ship. A day..."

Mara paused and sat back in the chair, her movements slow and deliberate. It was growing excruciating, but her beast would just have to wait until she could explain...her.

"...sorry. A day to spend in their feline shape. As a species they can't endure extended hyperspace travel for extended times, and they need the time to...to...reset...or...no, recenter themselves. That's a better word." she nodded, mostly to herself, once amber eyes rippling to a slitted shade of burnished gold.

Maybe it was because her beast recognized a fellow felinoid, but somehow, Mara found herself able to breathe and even think a little bit. She wasn't sure why, but she wasn't going to argue it. "But as a half-Felacatian, half-Human, I'm different. My feline half is more independent, more...individual. We sort of coexist in the same body. Normally, I can control her...keep her...appetites...sated."

A half smile flitted across her lips briefly, her beast's rumble lightening to a purr for an equally brief moment. Blinking, she lifted her gaze as her expression turned pained once more, finding Cirr staring at her thoughtfully.

"I can't be put on a schedule like a full Felacatian can, and SpecForce doesn't really provide me regular leave. I have to steal time whenever I can. Only...I...sometimes put it off too much. Or I get busy, like we have been lately...and that's when she starts fighting me to be let out. It gets harder...and...harder...and..."

Fingers rubbed at her eyes as she lost her train of thought to her beast's sudden surge. Mara shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself as she rose and paced behind the chair for a moment. "...I'm afraid I'm going to lose control of her if I can't get off of this ship. I need to go hunt. And I need your permission for leave...that's why Glayde sent me here."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"Sounds a bjit ljike Kree-arr..."

The Captain thought aloud with some amount of sympathy, still lagging behind to understand the burden Mara was carrying. Of course, Kree-arr didn't potentially carry the risk of getting crew members killed.

He could see the problem, and it was a pretty big one. This wasn't a pleasure cruise. Novgorod was a warship, and one that spent more time deep within contested space than in familiar ether. Having time where you weren't running and hiding was a luxury, and didn't exactly lend time for shore leaves.

He sighed.

"Have you talked to Doctorr Vek? jIs therre...anythjing? We'rre ten parrsecs jin any djirrectjion frrom frrjiendljies. jI don't want to put you down jin that sjituatjion. That's too much dangerr."

[Mara Tallen]

"I commed the good Doctor earlier. He...there's...nothing..."

Mara's voice trailed off as she paused in her pacing, standing perfect still without the twitch of single muscle. Eyes fell closed as she just breathed, the air sounding like a shallow hiss of sorts, an interesting counterpoint to the dark rumble she didn't even realize was there before that moment.

Just let me get through this...then we can go...the words were losing their grip on her beast, who was beginning to slide towards something more than the primal sensations of hunger and hunt. There was anger, beyond that, forged very early in Mara's life, that ran long and deep in her psyche.

"...best he can do is knock me into a coma." she finished the sentence she'd begun earlier.

Turning to face him, Mara's expression bore a touch of fear even as she canted her head to show that she did understand. "All due respect, Captain, I think the danger will be worse if I don't go now. Besides...Morrrgan said he wants to go with me. Not like I'll be putting down planetside alone, and it'll only be twenty-four hours..."

She freed one hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose, realizing how she'd purred Morgan's name instead of pronouncing it properly. Great. Just...great. At least, she mused, it hadn't come out that way when she was talking to Glayde.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Well that was something, Cirrsseeto conceded. A Jedi keeping track of things by her side through it all would probably help to smooth over any tricky business caused by her situation.

"Twenty fourr hourrs."

The Captain keyed up a series of coordinates, then another, sifting through a few options. He stopped after five, bringing one up on screen.

"We could pass wjithjin a parrsec of herre and prrobably won't have trrouble. Take a shuttle. jI can keep Novgorrod on patrrol close enough forr a pjickup, but jI can't strress to you how carreful we have to be."