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Clara is sitting at the desk in full uniform, head cradled in her hand as she flickers a gaze from a pale blue official looking letter to the terminal as she rapidly pulls up varying information.
Riley is snoozing on the bed, in full uniform as well. He's got a -stack- of paper work beside and on top of him. He must have dozed off while working. And he's apparently just been caught, as he startles awake, one hand to his radio ear.
"Outpost Seven," is Clara's baffled murmur as she stares at the information on the monitor, just shaking her head. Evidently, she didn't want to wake you, and is now so absorbed in her work that your shifting doesn't register yet.
Riley sets about trying to scoop the papers more or less together. Seeing you he calls over softly, "Afternoon, love."
Clara starts slightly and swings around in the chair, attempting a smile for you and not really making it work. "Hey there, sailor," she offers in a quiet voice. "Um...busy day?"
Riley manages to get the papers aside, stifling a yawn. "Yeah, spent the morning in the Hall." He clambers from the bed, padding over. "Something wrong?"
Clara wrinkles her nose in apparent apology, leaning back in the chair as she glances at the letter in her hands again. "Everything all right? Or as all right as it's going to get..." The second question is left for just a moment.
Riley just nods, dropping down more or less lightly to kneel by you, hands on your leg. "What's wrong?"
Clara covers one of your hands with hers, staring at the letter a moment more before she offers it, the paper shaking slightly. "Did you request this?" 'This' would be orders to report to Outpost Seven in the Regulus system for a three year tour of duty to research the effect of stress and null-gee on diverticulitis.
Riley accepts the letter in his uncovered hand, scanning it. From the look of undisguised horror on his face, his requesting it is probably a 'No'. It's a good thing he's effectively sitting down already, "No, no, no... this ... no. Isn't."
"I don't know -anything- about null-gee research," Clara begins, a measure of panic filtering into her own expression. "I've spent all morning trying to find out why this was ordered..."
Riley sets the letter aside, moving to envelope you in his arms. "I'll go downstairs and see what I can find out?"
Clara almost collapses into the embrace, shivering slightly. "It's a direct order from Conley, love. He ranks you...he may not say," she offers rather miserably, then lets out a mirthless, choked laugh. "Only three years, though."
Riley squeezes you all the closer, hands locked on the far side. "I can try... I -have- to try. Can't just stand back..."
Clara is silent for several moment, clinging to you as if fairly frightened, then pulls away slightly to regard you with a stricken headshake. "You can't, though. Not now...imagine the hell Lexington could play with this."
Riley blinks up at you several times, looking confused. "But what could he do that was worse than -this-!?"
Clara trails her fingers down your cheek, eyes dark with worry. "He could not let me come back at the end of the tour," she explain sorrowfully. "I could be reassigned to Earth or Regulus."
Riley's jaw just drops at that, as if this is even beyond comprehension. "But, but... to do -nothing-..."
"What can we do? Do you have any ideas?" Clara's words are wistful, as if not allowing any hope to invade. "I don't want to go, but...I ship out in two days," she adds, reaching back for the official orders document that also came with the envelope to offer it. "I'm supposed to give this to you."
Riley takes the document reflexively, staring at it in continued horror. "I, I don't know. But there has to be -something-, maybe I can transfer as well, -something-..."
"To Outpost Seven? It's a medical facility, love. That's not your MO...and they need you here." She leans forward to rest her forehead on your shoulder, still shivering slightly. "Just...I don't know. Saints, there's so much to do...to take care of, and I can't think. It's not forever, though..." she attempts to say, although the words are particularly broken.
Riley's arms go back around you, holding you close. "No thinking right now. Right now I am just going to hold onto you a moment."
Clara links her arms over your shoulders to fold over your upper back, rather in agreement with that idea. "And never let go," Clara murmurs, words still unsteady and muffled from her place at your shoulder. "Sixty-three light years..."
"And three years..." Riley still sounds altogether stunned and not in the least pleased. "It's just not -right-."
Clara pulls her head back finally, one hand coming up to your hair. "Vryce is senior...but Jones has the personality to lead a team of medical staff, civilian or no. Kramer can handle the AF folk," she offers, a sneaky suspicion of dried tears making faint marks on her face. "Will you wait for me?" The question is very quiet.
Riley is obviously flabbergasted by this, but he notes softly, "Til the end of time if I had to, a'trezla. I love you, no other, and never any other."
Clara nods slowly, eyes slightly and suspiciously damp. "As I love you...the man who shares my soul," she murmurs, swallowing heavily as she closes her eyes. "Maybe...it might be best if we don't say anything to anyone. Until I'm gone."
Riley has to sink to the floor, knees no longer quite holding him. "If you think that's best...other than Jones and such I assume?" Duty and logic take their hold, even if he's still obviously quite horrified.
Clara pulls her labcoat off ponderously, nodding. "Jones will need to know. Kramer will need to know." Leaving the coat on the chair, she slips out of it to sit in front of you on the floor. "I...don't really know -what- to do, Riley," she admits. "Why would Conley pull me out?"
Riley shifts around behind you, ignoring the odd venue, using the opportunity to get his arms once again around you. "I don't -know-, I can't imagine... I mean.. it's... and to somewhere you're not suited for... and..."
Clara obviously isn't complaining as she leans back into your chest, turning her head into your neck for comfort. "Not entirely unsuited," she admits miserably. "I handle null-gee well...but I'm no researcher. And leaving you..." The words break off as her breath catches.
Riley's arms lock all the more tightly around you, as if somehow by holding on he can prevent you from being taken away. "This is where you -should- be. Here, not off someplace. Your job, your background, and...and here." He pauses and sounds rather rueful, "Gee, I am doing coherent well, yes? It is just that I cannot imagine life with you gone."
Clara can't suppress a soft, mournful laugh as her arms lace over yours firmly. "Do you realize I've only been here nine months? Almost ten." The shivering starts up again, albeit faintly. "I don't want to -be- anywhere else. I belong with you...but the Fleet..." she stammers, obviously torn between loyalties.
"Nine months, a lifetime, long enough for me to know you matter more to me than life itself." Riley's cuddles closer to you, trying to provide a warm and comforting presence against the shivers. "Why would they -do- this..."
Clara gives way to the shakes that have threatened ever since she first read the orders, trying desperately not to sniffle. "Why does the Fleet do anything it does?" she replies, voice low. "Why would it throw us together, then pull us apart? Ranshek...Conley, the both -know-." After several beats, she ventures in a tight voice, "Lexington?"
"It had better not be," There's something beyond steel in Riley's tone. Rather it's steel still forge hot and glowing white. "If it is, he'll learn I can play hardball too." Each word is razor edged and crisp with frozen anger.
Clara squirms slightly to peer up at you with a horrified headshake. "Greg, no! Listen to me...please, a'trez...he's the -Chairman- now. You can't counter him in this, not for personal reasons. And maybe he has no clue, maybe? Maybe this is all some horrible mistake..." She grinds to a halt, desperate and at a loss for words.
"Being Chairman isn't a blank check," Riley calms his tone by obvious effort. "He doesn't get to do things like this just because he thinks he can. Abuse of power..."
"Doesn't give you the right to prevent a logical transfer for only personal reasons," Clara finishes for you, craning her neck to search your eyes. "Please, love...I don't want you in trouble over this. Promise me? Promise me you won't get yourself in trouble for this?"
[Log ends here due to RL. ICly, dozing off occurs and Riley ends up moving Clara to the bed.]