Morning Musings

Posted on Mon Feb 24th, 2025 @ 6:21pm by Cyreeya

Mission: 01-A Change
Location: **Deep Space K-17- Various**
Timeline: MD01- 0630 Hours

The docking bay of Deep Space K-17 was unusually quiet in the early morning hours, bathed in the sterile glow of overhead lighting. The air held the faint scent of coolant and metal, punctuated by the occasional distant hum of machinery. A sleek, emerald-green Orion star yacht, its hull glistening as if perpetually kissed by moonlight, drifted smoothly into its berth. It was a vessel designed to turn heads, its curves as suggestive as the woman who owned it.

Cyreeya descended the ramp in a slow, deliberate stride, her heeled boots clicking softly against the deck plating. She had been away for weeks, ensuring that the necessary transactions had been handled, that the right palms had been greased, that Delirium—her Delirium—would continue to thrive even in her absence. The club had only been open a few days, but it was already making waves, and now, it was time to return to her domain.

She inhaled deeply, letting the station’s recycled air fill her lungs. K-17 was an oddity, a forgotten relic given new life, much like herself. A smirk tugged at her lips. Let’s see if she still remembers how to have fun.

As she strolled toward the promenade, the station was waking up around her. A few early risers bustled about—maintenance crews, shopkeepers preparing for the day, the occasional Starfleet officer nursing a coffee as they trudged to their post. Cyreeya paid them little mind as she approached Delirium.

Even in the dim early morning hours, the club radiated its own energy. The neon signage pulsed languidly, as if the place were still catching its breath from the previous night’s debauchery. Inside, the air was thick with the lingering scent of sweet liquors, Orion incense, and the phantom traces of sweat and pheromones. The dance floor was empty now, but the stage still bore the presence of the night's performances—scattered feathers from a drag queen's elaborate ensemble, a half-finished glass of something neon and strong, a pair of holographic dice left blinking in mid-roll.

The cleaning crew acknowledged her with nods and continued their work, sweeping away the remnants of another riotous evening. Cyreeya walked the length of the club, trailing her fingers along the sleek bar, tapping a nail against the polished countertop as she made a mental note to restock the higher-end selections. She flicked her gaze to the VIP lounge—untouched, exactly as she liked it. Good.

Satisfied, she stepped out the back entrance, her path leading her toward the private residential section. Her apartment awaited.

The doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a space that stood in stark contrast to the utilitarian station beyond. The scent of Orion night blossoms filled the air, blending with the subtle warmth of exotic spices. Deep green silks cascaded from the ceiling, pooling into soft drapes along the walls. Wood paneling lined the surfaces, adorned with intricate metallic Orion carvings and gold accoutrements that shimmered in the ambient lighting. The living space was expansive, centered around a sunken conversation pit encircled by plush cushions in rich jewel tones—a space designed for whispered secrets and languid indulgence, for business and pleasure alike.

Beyond the living area, a separate bedroom awaited, its low-set bed draped in emerald and gold sheets softer than sin. A private study stood adjacent, its walls lined with rare texts and decorative artifacts, a place for planning, for control. The kitchen and dining area blended seamlessly with the space, featuring dark wood, polished stone, and a bar stocked with the finest contraband from across the quadrant.

Cyreeya exhaled slowly, shrugging off her fur-lined coat and draping it across a chair. The station hummed softly around her, but here, in this space, she was home.

She replicated herself a drink, amber coloured Ettaberry juice catching the low light as she swirled it idly in her glass.

Delirium was running. The station was still standing. The game continued.

She smirked to herself and took a slow sip.

Not bad for early morning.