Jump to content

Sedrin Belasi

Retired
  • Posts

    1,656
  • Joined

  • Days Won

    34

Posts posted by Sedrin Belasi

  1. ((USS Garuda, R'raika Voss quarters))



    :: Voss considered her quarters- Starfleet had years to perfect the sterile environment they expected their crews to live in, and in Voss's estimation they had done a brilliant job. It was cold, harsh- 'neutral'- and almost certainly maddening. She had succeeded at getting them to set the gravity of her quarters to something much closer to that of Vulcan. She had only ever set foot on Vulcan once, as a small child- and with luck she would never need get close to her home world again. Still, the higher gravity was comfortable, like a soft blanket- and it left her feeling more at ease. She'd even shifted the environmental controls so that the very air in the room was like Vulcan- thin and reedy when compared to the rest of the ship. If this was to be her sanctuary- she should make the most of it. ::



    Voss:: Computer, set the temperature to forty-three degrees Celsius.



    :: Voss paced through the room, as the computer adjusted the temperature she looked over the piles of rugs she had purchased from the Ferengi Mjort, he had been a very bad tongo player- but his selections of cloth, tapestries, and other creature comforts had been “Second to none!” in his own words- he had been more than glad to end his debts to the Vulcan with a selection from his storerooms, a small dose of oo-mox had gotten her a good deal on the rest- the sheets of Andorian silk for her bed were one of the better prizes. ::



    Voss: Computer, lower the humidity in this room- no more than ten percent at any time.



    :: Voss counted out the rugs, six were fairly large and would served to cover up the functional if ugly carpet they had installed- she rolled each one out and set to work, making sure each overlapped in the best way- after a short moment her floor was covered, and cushier. She gave a little bounce and felt the soft fibers nuzzle the soles of her bare feet. This was perfect, soft, wonderful, perfection. True- the rugs clashed with each other- and if you looked at the floor too long you might suffer from a sudden onset of vertigo, or seizures. Thankfully, Voss found the disharmony charming- she quickly unrolled the seventh rug, it was the smallest of the bunch, but the most import- traditionally it would go outside her front door, but exceptions had to be made. She set the mat in front of her door, the Terran words, “WELCOME” challenging anyone who entered. ::



    :: The curtains were an easy affair to set up, she only had a few windows in this room of hers, but it was nice to be able to block out the void of space when she wanted to. She stretched and took a time out, sitting down on her bed and letting her fingers run across the new sheets- for a moment her thoughts went back to that last fight, the person she fought- she blushed slightly and stood up, running her fingers through her hair and crossing over to her desk. There sat a dozen or more crumpled bits of paper- each baring her scrawled handwriting. They were supposed to be apologies, but each had come out sounding more like a love letter than the last. She thought of destroying them, better no evidence existed, but each crumpled paper was a thought, and it gave her desk a used, messy feel. The desire for a cluttered existence won out and she let them lie where they were. ::



    Voss: Computer, dim lights to seventy percent.



    :: The rest of the setup went fairly easily- Voss had a preference for floor cushions over chairs and now she had quite a few piles of them- not that she actually expected any guests. The largest were more suitable for lounging full body in, the smaller were scattered around the small table she'd found. It's edging was Terran oak, but the center piece was an inlay of various hard woods from around the galaxy- it's very disorder was order. She set her kal-toh board on one corner, wondering if she could get speed kal-toh to do better on this ship than she had at the academy. The final moments of decoration were placing her weapons in the most practical spots- not so much for display but functional and rapid defense. The wall hangings were the last things to go up- almost all of them were oil based paintings, the largest was a cityscape of the First City- that she paced on the wall beside her bed- so that when ever she woke up, she could look out and see her home. ::



    :: Voss looked the room over, the heat had finally seemed to hit the desired peak and she felt more alive in it. Part of her considered working on a set of mok'bara movements- but in the end, even on shore-leave she couldn't forget there was work to do. Instead of moving, she grabbed her PADD and accessed the crew files, deciding to commit each name and face to memory. ::



    Ensign R'raika voss


    Intelligence Officer


    USS Garuda


  2. ((Corridor, USS Garuda))


    ::She was roaming through the halls, so that was a good sign, wasn't it? Okay, maybe not roaming, but she was free to move about, so that was something. As Alora trotted to catch up with Rahman, her lips soured into a frown when she realised she'd been stripped of her uniform and her rank. That was not so good a sign.::


    DeVeau: Hey.


    ::The science officer slowed to match strides with the Kriosian, a friendly smile that couldn't mask her concern fixed upon her features.::


    DeVeau: Are you okay?


    ::Making her way to her quarters from the Captain's ready room, Roshanara turned, surprised to see the science officer. Truthfully, she had hoped to avoid running into anyone as she ran back to hide in her quarters. Even on a ship as large as a Galaxy class vessel, gossip traveled at warp 10, and it wouldn't be long before people's curiosities could turn into something much uglier.::


    Rahman: Alora! What are you still doing here? You should be enjoying your shoreleave.


    DeVeau: Yeah, well, I wanted to see if you were okay.


    Rahman: Thank you, but I'll be all right. Really.


    ::Rahman was awarded with a quirk of her mouth. All right? Yeah, sure. She'd only been stripped of her rank and any and all access to what had once been her job. Her career was gone. If it hadn't, then she'd still be wearing a uniform.::


    ::She looked back at the young science officer with a sad smile. Would this be the last time she'd talk to her, at least from outside a prison?::


    Rahman: Alora, promise me... whatever happens, you don't lose your sense of hope and wonder while you're out here. I know it can be scary at times... but don't forget what made you want to come out here in the first place. Cherish the opportunity you have while you're aboard a starship.


    ::The advice was unexpected, and those bright green eyes stared at her for a moment. What she had said sounded so final. Rahman had been stripped of her rank, but did that mean she was leaving?::


    oO Well, what else does it mean, stupid? If she did, or even if they think she really did what she's been accused of, what exactly do you _think_ is going to happen. Oo


    ::Alora halted and caught on to Rahman's arm, gently, but firmly, her gaze steady and piercing as she focused on the Kriosian's eyes.::


    DeVeau: Nara...what happened? What really happened? That wasn't you, right? Tell me it's just some...huge cosmic joke. Some mistake. Some sort of mixup.


    ::Roshanara glanced over at a pair of crewmen who were walking the other way down the corridor towards them. She beckoned Alora to follow her into a cross junction away from the main pathway. Alora did as bit, tucking herself as far out of the main corridor as possible.::


    Rahman: I'm afraid I can't.


    DeVeau: You can't because you actually did do what they accuse you of or you can't because you can't explain what really happened because you don't know yourself?


    ::There _had_ to be an explanation. Even if it was, 'that person looked like me but that wasn't really me doing what they said I did even though it looks as if I'm the one actually doing it'. Surely Rahman was truly innocent. Wasn't she?::


    ::The former chief engineer sighed.::


    Rahman: Alora, the less you're seen with me, the better right now. After Commander Ross's apparent betrayal... the sabotage... there's something much more nefarious and larger than we think going on.


    DeVeau: So you _are_ innocent.


    ::Roshanara didn't affirm that statement, instead looking directly into Alora's eyes.::


    Rahman: Listen, don't worry about me. I wasn't kidding earlier. There could still be others hiding aboard or nearby. Watch yourself, Alora. Don't trust anyone, no matter how many pips they have on their collar.


    ::That had been Roshanara's mistake, hadn't it?::


    DeVeau: Nara, wait.


    ::It didn't make any sense. None at all. What was she trying to tell her? Alora was really bad at figuring out clues. She always was surprised by the end in mysteries. Well, maybe not always, but most of the time. She just wasn't the sort who did well resolving that sort of question. In a way, it wasn't that much different from coming up with a solution to a scientific problem - except she just couldn't seem to catch on in that manner.::


    ::Another set of crewmen passed by, and one of them--the same guard who had escorted Roshanara earlier to the Captain's ready room looked at the two women curiously as he passed.::


    DeVeau: I want to help. What can I do to help? There's got to be something I can do!


    Rahman: ...look, forget I said anything. Don't worry about me now. You still have a lot more to see out here.


    ::She gave a sad smile and touched Alora gently on the shoulder.::


    Rahman: Go enjoy your shoreleave. I need to go.


    DeVeau: No.


    ::Alora's hand found Rahman's arm once more, her hold tighter. She stepped closer, closing the space between them.::


    DeVeau: No. I'm going to worry about you. And worry about you. And I'm going to start doing some digging and looking into things. Tell me what's going on. I want to help.


    ::Well, Roshanara couldn't deny the science officer's commitment was touching. But she needed to protect her.::


    Rahman: Alora...


    ::But she could tell from the look Alora was giving her, it wasn't going to be any use to try and convince her otherwise.::


    Rahman: Just be careful, all right? And if you're going to look into things... don't do it alone.


    ::She thought for a moment.::


    Rahman: Seek out Captain Kells. Maybe he can help figure out what's really going on out here... with Ross... with everything.


    ::Kells. Don't trust anyone, but seek out Kells. Did that mean she could trust Kells? She wished Saveron were still there, Alora knew she could trust him more than anyone else. The Kells that had returned was almost a stranger to her, not that the former Captain had been _much_ more than that.::


    DeVeau: You know, you're really not giving me much to go on.


    Rahman: ::smiles:: I know.


    ::She took a deep breath and gently removed Alora's hold of her.::


    Rahman: Good luck, Alora. I'm sorry I can't give you more, but it's for the best.


    DeVeau: Are you sure about that?


    ::The other woman nodded and then stepped back into the corridor, but turned one last time to Alora.::


    Rahman: Don't follow me. Please.


    DeVeau: Nara...wait...


    ::Roshanara paused as asked.::


    DeVeau: Look...I may not have the same sort of 'contacts' as most people around here, but I have...well. I'm not without ways of getting information or providing assistance. So...if you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. Okay?


    Rahman: I'll keep that in mind.


    ---


    Lieutenant Alora DeVeau

    Chief Science Officer

    USS Garuda


    &


    Lt. Commander Roshanara Rahman

    Under Investigation

    Awaiting Transfer to Custody of StarBase 118 JAG

  3. (( Outside Roshanara Rahman's Personal Quarters, Deck 35, USS Garuda ))


    ::Quinn had found her way back to her quarters, after leaving sickbay. She'd showered, she'd cried, she'd paced, and then she'd showered some more -- mostly while pacing and crying. Officially, she was on medical leave, but the Director of Intelligence was still the Director of Intelligence, and it didn't take long for information to find its way to her.


    ::So here she was, for no logical reason she could fathom, hanging off a door chime on deck thirty-five. Finally, it opened, and she dragged her gaze off the floor to meet that of Roshanara Rahman. She held it for a moment, and that was all she could tolerate. Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped past the other woman and into her quarters.::


    REYNOLDS: You owe me an explanation.


    ::She spoke quietly, her otherwise soft voice stained by hoarseness and exhaustion.::


    RAHMAN: Pardon?


    ::Roshanara assumed she'd be getting visitors at some point while she still remained aboard the Garuda waiting for the JAG to arrive. She figured her friends at least--Reez, Lidia--would stop by, but none had come actually. She understood, or told herself she did. She couldn't imagine what they must have thought when she was still making sense of it.::


    ::But she certainly didn't expect the person who would visit her to be Captain Reynolds.::


    REYNOLDS: I'm... fairly sure you heard me.


    ::Her eyes took in her surroundings. She was already aware that Rahman had declined much the much larger quarters due to her for this box room. Not even a double bed, just a small single bunk, a fresh uniform laid out in waiting. There was little of the engineer's personality stamped on the room -- from the PADDs thrown across the desk, you'd think she did little else but sleep and work.::


    RAHMAN: Is this part of a formal investigation?


    REYNOLDS: No.


    RAHMAN: Then I'm afraid, Captain, I have no explanation to give you.


    ::Reynolds didn't answer. Instead, her gaze had settled on the uniform on the bed. If the intelligence director was trying to intimidate the former engineer, Roshanara remained firm in her stance. And despite everything that had happened to Captain Reynolds--or at least what Roshanara had gathered from overhearing the security staff's chatter while she had sat in the brig for the past few days--she still didn't trust her.::


    ::Her eyes locked onto Quinn's, her voice cold.::


    RAHMAN: I think you should leave.


    REYNOLDS: ::She nodded.:: Probably.


    ::Quinn watched her for several heartbeats, looking for something. Anything. She wasn't even sure what. Some trace of regret? Remorse? Maybe just an acknowledgement.::


    REYNOLDS: ::Quietly,:: Do you just not… care? That you helped him torture me? That you helped him to do things that are quite literally unspeakable to me?


    ::Roshanara's determined gaze broke as her brow furrowed, a mixture of confusion and surprise. And hurt. She turned away, unable to face Reynolds and her accusation directly.::


    RAHMAN: Do you really think I would have helped him if I knew what he had planned to do to you? To this ship? Do you really think I'm that kind of a monster?


    ::Yet it wasn't an accident that she phrased it as a question than a statement of denial. What truly frightened Roshanara was that even she wasn't quite sure if knowing would have made a difference.


    ::When Harry--when Commander Ross asked her to "take care of a few things" for him, she hadn't even questioned why. All that was important was ensuring it be done. For him.::


    REYNOLDS: A little while ago, no. But, you know. Then I was kidnapped and tortured by someone I was suppose to be able to trust, so now… I just don't know.


    RAHMAN: When the captain came down to Engineering that day and the first acts of sabotage were discovered, I wanted to believe it was someone else. Someone we didn't know... that it was all just a terrible coincidence...


    ::But as she had said earlier to Doctor Kotir, there were no such things to an engineer. As a former engineer herself, Captain Reynolds no doubt knew that as well.::


    RAHMAN: But once you and he had left the away team on the surface--


    ::Quinn flinched, her eyes narrowing slightly at Rahman's choice of words. "You and he", as though she'd had some choice in the matter. As though she'd been complicit.::


    REYNOLDS: You knew.


    ::There was an uncomfortable silence before Roshanara spoke again.::


    RAHMAN: I'm sorry, captain. For what he did to you. For my part in allowing it to happen. But if you're looking for why he did what he did... I don't have the answer.


    REYNOLDS: I wasn't asking why he did it. I was asking why *you* did. ::She paused.:: You're not stupid, and yet somehow, he convinced you to switch off security in some of the most secure areas of the ship.


    ::Roshanara wanted to say something back, but what? Reynolds wasn't wrong about being owed an explanation. But it wasn't just owed to the intelligence director. Roshanara owed an explanation to herself -- for what she'd done. How she had allowed a man, even one whom she had greatly admired, manipulate her into doing his bidding. She was fortunate no one had been killed by the acts of sabotage. The only casualty would be her career.::


    ::A pair of sad eyes looked back at Reynolds, and another silence fell upon the room.::


    REYNOLDS: Anyway, you were right. I should go.


    ::Quinn turned to leave but then paused on her way to the door, a short journey in the small quarters. She looked back toward the other woman.::


    REYNOLDS: You should get yourself a good advocate. They're going to want -- to need -- to crucify someone for this, and with Ross gone… ::She shook her head.::


    ::Roshanara nodded back gently.::


    RAHMAN: Thank you, captain.


    ::And with that, Quinn departed, leaving the former chief engineer to her tiny cell.::


    --


    Director of Intelligence

    USS Garuda


    &



    Under Investigation

    Awaiting Transfer into Custody of StarBase 118 JAG

  4. (( Ancient Station ))
    ::It was strange, really, how much time the many and varied species of the universe had devoted to finding new ways of causing one another pain. The only one she knew that hadn't were the Deltans -- and that was simply a matter of self-preservation. Empathic for as long as their history extended, there were no bloody wars staining their past simply because the emotional shock wave would have ruined the victors as much as the defeated.
    ::The Not-Harry, unfortunately, knew very well how to cause her pain. Excruciating pain, beyond imagining. And had been doing so, for what felt like an eternity.::
    ROSS: ::Soft,:: I hate to see you like this.
    ::She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Not-Harry shook his head, reaching out to brush the hot tears from her cheeks. It was tender, almost affectionate, and it made her skin crawl.::
    ROSS: ::Low,:: Oh, Quinn. You've been through this before, and you broke. You broke and you told the Breen everything you knew. *Everything*. ::He paused, this time to sweep sweat-damped hair from her forehead.:: It's only a matter of time. You're just not strong enough.
    ::The words hit home, exactly as intended. She'd never quite been able to uproot the guilt and shame she had carried with her since her captivity, and she knew he was right. It was only a matter of time. An increasingly short matter of time.
    ::A noise escaped her throat, a choked-off sob a of a sound, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to blank it all out. If only reality could be so easily foiled.::
    ROSS: Would it make a difference if I told you that he's in genuinely in love with you? That his feelings for you have nothing to do with me? ::He paused.:: It's not so bad. We'll make you forget. You and Harry could go about your lives, maybe even have a family.
    ::Somewhere in the back of her pain-addled mind, something clicked. He could very well be lying to her -- she'd expect him to say anything to get her to comply -- but there was the possibility he was telling the truth, and the real Harry was still in there, somewhere.
    ::It really was such an appealing option, to submit. The pain would stop, she wouldn't remember any of this, and so what if things turned out badly in the end, so long as they were good in the meantime? It wasn't as though there was ever any guarantee that life would turn out in sunshine and roses.::
    REYNOLDS: No.
    ::He sighed, his chin dipping in disappointment. Then he reached away, out of sight, and she knew what was coming next.::
    REYNOLDS: Please. Please don't do this.
    ::The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. It made her cringe, hearing herself beg, hearing the unadulterated fear in her voice. What kind of Starfleet captain -- no, what kind of officer was she, that she was reduced to this?
    ::But was there something in his eyes as he paused to look at her? Or was that just wishful thinking?::
    ROSS: You know to make it stop.
    REYNOLDS: ::Her words escaped between a fearful, strangled sob.:: I can't.
    ::He almost looked apologetic.::
    ROSS: Then I have to.
    ::It was only a few heartbeats, and then she was screaming again.::
    --
    Captain Quinn Reynolds
    Director of Intelligence
    USS Garuda
  5. (( Thunderbird ))
    ::Her wrist was cut to ribbons from her struggles -- but oddly enough, that had proven to be useful. The blood flowing out of the ruined, ragged skin had provided just enough lubrication to enable her to drag her small, narrow hand through the rigid bond, freeing her arm. It wasn't the first time the scent of her own blood filled her nose, and she had the dark, depressing suspicion that it wouldn't be the last.
    ::But for now, she took it as a blessing, and with that hand loose, it was exponentially easier to free the rest of her limbs.
    ::So she was free. Now what?
    ::A glance toward the front of the shuttle told her that Not-Harry was still in the [...]pit, the doors to that section of the vessel closed. So much the better -- as light on her feet as she was, it would be easier with that extra barrier between them.
    ::She pushed herself up, then grabbed on to the edge of the table, her balance threatened by jelly legs and a rush of nausea and dizziness. She swallowed against a foul, metallic taste in her mouth, and a few, deep lungfuls of air helped clear some of the cobwebs from her head.
    ::Phaser. Then…
    ::She had no idea. She'd figure that out once she had some form of personal defence. Right now it was hard enough to stay upright and mobile. What the hell had he doped her with?
    ::Didn't matter. Forcing her feet into some semblance of cooperation, she shuffled over toward the arms cabinet, closeted away in the wall of the shuttle. Her fingers were clumsy, but she managed to coax it open.
    ::It was empty.::
    REYNOLDS: ::Whispered,:: [...] it!
    ::She smacked her palm against the panel, a weak, ineffectual slap that barely made any sound at all, and slumped back against the wall. Helm was a no-go, with Not-Harry in the [...]pit.
    ::Could she lock him in there, and reduce the oxygen to minimal levels? No. He'd notice what was going on long before the oxygen level dropped to a point where he'd fall unconscious, and she'd lay bets that he'd be able to force the door.
    ::A probe? She could manually launch one, just let it fall out of the shuttle, set a delay on its activation, have it point the way for... whoever came looking, if anyone. Carefully done, the only indication in the [...]pit would be a reduction in the number they were carrying. What were the chances that he'd look at that?
    ::Stumbling toward the deck plating that the probes hide underneath, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was forgetting something. Something painfully obvious, that was hiding under the cotton wool filling her head.
    ::It should have been easy. Certainly easy for her -- the kind of thing she could normally do blindfolded, hanging upside down like a bat. Only it wasn't, and she fumbled, made mistakes, paused to swallow down another wave of nausea, corrected those mistakes only to make whole new ones.
    ::But she managed it. The probe was away, though she wasn't entirely certain if it would do anything except float, silent and alone, in the depths of space.
    ::The thought brought the weight of her situation crashing down on her shoulders. A whimper escaped her throat as memories of her captivity with the Breen flashed through her mind, the pain, the humiliation, the complete loss of self.
    ::Not now. Now wasn't the time to be weak, or afraid. She needed--
    ::Pain ripped through the back of her head, and her gaze was suddenly on the ceiling of the shuttle. Not-Harry loomed into view, his expression glacier, and she realised that the pain was coming from his hand, bunched in her hair.::
    ROSS: You really are a little Houdini. I'd be impressed, if it wasn't so annoying.
    ::Then she noticed his other hand, balled up in a fist, accelerating toward her face. Later, she'd be grateful that unconsciousness came so quickly, and that she didn't have the opportunity to feel or hear her nose breaking.::
    --
    Captain Quinn Reynolds
    Director of Intelligence
    USS Garuda
  6. (( Corridor, USS Garuda ))

    :: Tan walked. The ship rocked. Red alert lights flashed. The pain trickled up his leg, fighting against the painkillers, effective as they were. The turbolift to the bridge seemed so far away. ::
    :: Chaos. Pain. War. The tink of metal-tipped walking stick on deckplate. ::
    :: He wasn't frightened. He'd been frightened before battles, and after battles, but never during. Never, ever during. ::
    :: The only thing that frightened him, these days, wasn't phasers. Wasn't death and misery. ::
    :: It was how happy he felt, right at this moment. ::
    :: He'd missed this. ::
    :: He missed war. ::
    :: The idea frustrated him. It fought against his sensibilities -- Trills were exceptionally peace-loving people. It was hardly their most defining feature, but it was part of his cultural make up. ::
    :: It wasn't so hard to rationalise. The computers of the Garuda's holodecks were full of various tactical simulations, some for training, others for entertainment. There were holographic recreations of great battles of all the Federation's cultures, great and small. Simple and bloody. Pronounced and neigh-forgotten. Fictional. Real. Embelished. Stories from legend. ::
    :: If it was easy for a civilian, 35 years old and having never fired a phaser in anger to desire to be in war, imagine how easy it was for him; he'd trained all his life for it. Been surrounded by it. It was all he knew. ::
    :: No. The thumping of the metal on the deck became more angry. That was not him. He had killed, yes, and fought when needed -- but always had he struggled to find the peaceful path. To help, not to destroy. ::
    :: He had hoped this mission would be one of those times. Those times where lives were saved and medals won without lives being paid on the other side. One of those times he wouldn't bleed, wouldn't have a wound in his heart requiring extensive counselling. ::
    :: Kira Venroe had helped him a great deal in the past. He wasn't sure if she knew that. She was beautiful, kind, intelligent... many things. ::
    :: And a universe away, now. He had meant to write to her for some time. ::
    :: Days became weeks became months. Time kept slipping by. There was always a drama. A trial. Some death to be avoided or dealt out in equal measure. ::
    :: Kill or be killed. Was that the civilised, peaceful times they lived in? ::
    :: It certainly seemed so. Tan stepped into a turbolift and watched as the doors hissed closed. ::
    Tan: Bridge.
    :: Obediently, the soft whine filled the room as the turbolift took him towards the crown of the ship. ::
    :: How polite the ship was. The same voice would be equally polite as it levelled an entire city, as the USS Constitution -- a Galaxy class starship just like this one -- had done to a city on Betazed. ::
    :: In a way, it was just like him. A polite killer. A softly spoken tool of war. ::
    :: The turbolift travelled onward, and Tan had no idea what to do with all of this. ::
    :: But Quinn had to be saved. ::
    :: He had to fight yet again. ::
    End
    -----
    Lt. Commander Alleran Tan
    Chief of Navigation
    USS Garuda
  7. (( The Pit, DSX ))

    :: In the center pit, a shirtless, holographic Evan was trading blows with a Klingon that towered a good foot higher than the Vulanoid. In neighboring pits, the real Evan was trying to determine how bad his holographic counterparts injuries were. Without the accompanying pain, it was harder to remember that his left knee was badly bruised and that three of his ribs were cracked.

    :: Still new to the way the fighting system in the pit worked, it was also difficult to remember exactly how his blows would be affected. He couldn’t trust his instincts, and that put him at a disadvantage. ::

    :: The Klingon came after him again. Evan delivered a series of counter maneuvers, but he was too slow. Too hesitant. He deflected three of the Klingon’s blows, but they were feints. Open on his right side - the side already injured - he took six rapid blows to the chest. ::

    :: Though the simulation protected him from any real pain, he still felt each of the impacts, and he knew they were vital. ::

    :: Though he still stood, the Evan’s holographic counterpart fell slowly to his knees then to the floor, while the small but vocal midday crowd cheered on. ::

    :: The humiliation he felt was as sharp as it was surprising. He didn’t recognize anyone in the crowd. It had been his first bout here, and his first fist-to-fist fight in over a year. And he’d let his emotions get the better of him early on. He’d still been [...]ed about his earlier conversation with Ignis. Not that he entirely understood why. ::

    :: Evan left his pit and entered a small locker room where the next fighter was waiting to take her turn. A Ktarian, of all things. ::

    KTARIAN: Tough luck, Vulcan.

    DELANO: Luck had nothing to do with it. I was terrible.

    oO And I’m not a Vulcan Oo

    :: She offered a lop-sided smile. ::

    KTARIAN: True, but I thought I’d be polite about it.

    :: Evan shrugged as he went to his locker. He’d left his uniform back on Garuda, but the starfleet combadge on the breast of his dark sleeveless shirt was still prominent once he’d slipped the fabric over his head. ::

    DELANO: I learned from it. Next time, I’ll do better. That’s the best anyone can say.

    :: She nodded. ::

    DELAIN: Well said. (Offering a hand) I’m Delain.

    DELANO: Evan Delano.

    :: He gave her hand a short shake, but the gesture was somewhat awkward for both of them. ::

    DELAIN: A human name? How interesting.

    DELANO: Almost as interesting as a Ktarian pit fighter.

    :: She laughed, but the sound of the bell cut her off. ::

    DELAIN: My turn! Good luck in your next bout, Evan.

    DELANO: Same to you.

    :: Once Evan had finished changing, he noticed that he’d missed a general communication. Hopefully, he hadn’t missed anything important. ::

    :: He tapped the badge to play the recorded message. ::

    EGAN MANNO:: =/\= This is Captain Egan Manno to all hands. Please return to the Garuda immediately for departure within the hour. Senior staff, please report to the bridge at once. =/\=

    :: Evan cursed under his breath. The one time he’d be separated from his communicator for more than five minutes and he’d missed a “report to the bridge” at once call. How long ago had this been sent? ::

    EGAN MANNO: =/\= I would also like to recognize two members of the crew. The first is Lieutenant Commander Alleran Tan, who has joined us very recently as the head of navigation and whose presence and strong work I greatly anticipate. (beat) The second is Lieutenant Evan Delano, who is hereby elevated to the rank of full lieutenant immediately. Lieutenant Delano will further now serve as the Garuda's strategic operations officer -- a necessary position, given the complicate politics and our evolving understanding of the region. Please offer these officers your congratulation. =/\=

    EGAN MANNO: =/\= Please return as quickly as possible. Thank you. =/\=

    :: He laughed, first. The irony of being singled out for recognition when he was undoubtedly going to be late in reporting for duty twinged his somewhat dark sense of humor. Sometimes, the galaxy had terrible timing. When that was out of his system, the gravity of the captain’s announcement started to settle on him. ::

    :: Full lieutenant. In less than a year. That was fantastic. Strategic operations officer, on the other hand, was a bit strange. He wasn’t aware of many starfleet vessels operating in the Corridor. What would he be coordinating, exactly? As he jogged towards the Garuda, he began to speculate. ::

    ===

    Lt. Evan Delano
    Strategic Operations Officer
    USS Garuda

  8. (( Evan Delano’s Quarters, Deck 9, USS Garuda ))

    :: At this range, subspace communications were sometimes difficult to arrange, but Starfleet had gone to great lengths to establish a secure, fast network that allowed live communication with most of the core Starfleet worlds. That being said, Evan’s mother still accused him of not calling often enough. ::

    DELANO: Mom, I called you a week ago. I can’t help when we’re out of range of the subspace relays.

    SUSAN: You could still write, or record a message.

    DELANO: :: sighing :: I’ll try to do that more often. Did you get the package I sent?

    SUSAN: Oh, yes!

    :: She panned moved out of the way and the camera shook as she lifted it to get a better view of her office. A new miniature decorated the crowded shelf along the rear wall. It was a scale replica of the Garuda - a model Evan had commissioned from a peculiar Cardassian merchant on DSX when he’d first arrived. ::

    SUSAN: I was impressed. You said a Cardassian made it?

    DELANO: Yes, he operates a small shop of Deep Space Ten. I’m not sure how he ended up out here.

    SUSAN: I’d love to see more work from him.

    :: Evan smiled. ::

    DELANO: I’ll stop by his shop the next time we’re at the station and see what I can find. Any requests.

    SUSAN: Oh, you know know me.

    :: He did. She preferred to display models of ships with some kind of historical significance, but the truth was that just about any working starship was beautiful to her in some way. She somehow managed to be both an artist and an engineer at the same time - traits that were both elusive to Evan. ::

    SUSAN: By the way, I’ve been trying to arrange a birthday gift for you, but it’s much harder to find a reliable transport moving that direction than it is the other way around.

    :: Evan tried not to look uncomfortable. ::

    DELANO: Oh, thanks Mom. I’ll let you know when it arrives.

    :: There was an awkward pause. Evan broke it. ::

    DELANO: How’s Apollo doing?

    :: She sighed. ::

    SUSAN: Well, you know he never warmed up to Jim like he did you. Jim says he’s been staying away from the house more than he used to.

    :: Evan nodded, but he felt his heart sinking. The wolf-dog had been a particularly challenging case, and in some ways, Evan and Apollo had helped each other find a certain peace. He had feared the separation would eventually cause Apollo to once again become antisocial - or worse, violent - but he had feared bringing him to the Tiger as an ensign. Wolves, even wolf-dogs, needed miles of land to be healthy. The confines of a starship - even a very large starship like the Garuda - weren’t appropriate for an animal like that. ::

    DELANO: Maybe I can arrange some leave on Earth soon.

    SUSAN: We’d all like that.

    :: Another pause. Evan decided it was time to sign out. ::

    DELANO: I should get going. I have some things I need to get done before tomorrow. It was good talking to you, Mom. Say hi to Kim for me.

    SUSAN: Sure, Evan. Thanks for calling. Love you.

    DELANO: Love you too.

    :: He clicked the button to end the conversation, waited for the screen to go black, then stared out of his window. Sol wasn’t visible, but he knew roughly where it should be and his attention focused there. He didn’t like admitting that he was homesick, but he realized that was a large part of why he’d been so… uncomfortable over the last few months. It had been over a year since he’d last visited Earth. The last planet he’d set foot on had nearly killed him. ::

    :: After years of being surrounded by sparsely populated countryside, he was struggling to adapt more than he had ever anticipated. Perhaps it was time to talk to a counselor. Perhaps. ::

    :: As he set about the rest of his business, the thought lingered. ::

    ===


    Lt. JG Evan Delano
    Asst. Chief of Security/Tactical
    USS Garuda

    • Like 1
  9. (( Private Quarters of Nienne Kenoi; USS Garuda))

    :: The color scheme for her new quarters were cream and mauve with accents in a muted green and she approved. Sort of. It was soothing enough and feminine. Alright but not quite what she wanted. No, what she wanted, really wanted, were hardware floors and floor to ceiling windows that let in lots of light and a workspace for her art. She wanted those beaches that turned this lovely shade of pink as the first tendrils of dawn worked their way up into the sky. She wanted that one turquoise wall in her bedroom that always made her mother cringe when she happened to walk in.::

    :: Sort of. ::

    :: She was Rodulan and Rodulans remained on the home world; in her head, were the voices of her parents and brothers and friends and all of them were saying the same thing. And it wasn't go out into space and have adventures. In her head, was the litany of things that it was proper for a good Rodulan to want.::

    :: So yes, she wanted things like that turquoise wall and the sandy beach and the floor to ceiling windows, but to be entirely fair, she wanted them here. On board the Garuda and not back there. There was ... ::

    :: Known. ::

    :: Predictable. ::

    :: Safe. ::

    :: She wanted more. Always had. And she had found friends that felt the same. Those had been exciting times. Clustered around campfires on the beach, collective dreaming, far from the worried and frowning visages of parents and elder siblings. But when the time came to make the dreams they'd shared real, she had been the only one to take the step away from what was known and safe and predictable. That had been a surprise. A sadness that she held close. The end of innocence because ...::

    :: People lie. ::

    :: People dream out loud but often ... too often ... that dreaming is enough. ::

    :: And she had believed. ::

    :: There had been pre-med and then medical school on the home world. The first step away from the safety of home. Then Starfleet Academy. She had gone alone and cried that first night. Cried for the dreamers who chose to let their dreams die in the name of ... ::

    :: Safety.::

    ::A predictable life.::

    :: Now, all these years later, she could banish those voices in her head easily enough. ::

    :: She was no longer the naive girl who'd snuck away to the beach. ::

    :: She sat cross-legged on the floor at one end of the wide wooden coffee table that was generally used to display books and hold up food and drinks or on some occasions, even feet. She used it for her art. There were sketchbooks, drawings, graphite sticks, a small knife, and erasers scattered about. And then there was the basotile. Blues and greens and just a touch of purple. ::

    :: She sat, hands on her thighs, and let her mind open, let her thoughts flow outward, to enfold its shape. Time slowed, disappeared from conscious thought, while her mind traced the graceful curves and introduced new windings. It was harmony. It was a dance. It was an expression that reflected what she was at this moment. It was ...::

    :: Her. ::

    :: And in its intricacies, it would never be exactly the same again as she would never be precisely the same again as she was in this moment. Her mind stroked, cajoled, encouraged, and the basotile took shape, flowed in response.::

    :: She would be known as this moment would be known for any who could understand and appreciate. ::

    Ensign Nienne Kenoi, M.D.
    Medical Officer
    USS Garuda

  10. ((Prak Zel Grand Hotel))

    ::The first thing Velana did after checking into her room was to put Maddox
    down for a nap and take the longest shower possible. Unfortunately, it
    wasn't as long as she would have liked since her baby started crying about
    twenty minutes into her steamy bliss.:: '

    ::Although still tired and sore, Velana couldn't help but smile as she
    wrapped herself up in towels and went to sort out what was wrong. This was
    her life now. Relaxation had just become a luxury.::

    ::After she changed Maddox and rocked him back to sleep, she got dressed
    and combed out her wet hair. There was only one thing on her list of
    things to do; it was time to contact her mother.::

    ::The hotel's front desk walked her through opening a subspace
    communication and within minutes, she was looking at T'Lan against the
    gorgeous backdrop of the San Francisco Bay.::

    T'Lan: Velana, is everything all right?

    Velana: Everything is fine, Mother. ::She smiled.:: I just thought you'd
    like to meet your grandson.

    ::Her mother had been raised with the same beliefs as Velana, but losing
    her husband and her son had made her less willing to indulge in emotion
    over logic. Still, her gently wrinkled features softened at this news and
    Velana was quite certain her eyes grew misty.::

    T'Lan: Oh, Velana... ::She cleared her throat.:: When did this happen?

    Velana: Two days ago. I've been in a hospital on Zakdorn IV. The birth
    was...complicated, but we're both fine. ::She held the baby up so her
    mother could see him on her screen.:: His name is Maddox.

    T'Lan: It seems to suit him. A Vulcan name wouldn't entirely fit.

    Velana: No, it wouldn't. ::Hesitating.:: Mother, you know he is
    half-Human.

    T'Lan: Of course I know. You are not a mystery to me, Velana. I am aware
    of the child's parentage.

    ::Velana gently transferred Maddox to her shoulder.::

    Velana: He wants to be in Maddox's life. He wants him to be a Whitman.

    ::Her mother arched an eyebrow.::

    T'Lan: That is asking a lot. Perhaps too much.

    Velana: ::softly:: I want to believe him.

    T'Lan: But you're not willing to risk Maddox being hurt him by him. Like
    you were. ::She smiled.:: I told you, my child. I know you. And part of
    knowing you is being aware of just how deep your emotions run.

    Velana: I am trying to be logical. He is Maddox's father and he has
    rights. I don't doubt that he's sincere. But, Mother, every time I'm on
    the verge of convincing myself, I remember what it felt like to be cast
    aside in favor of his career. And then I imagine him doing the same thing
    to Maddox. ::She shook her head.:: I can't let that happen.

    T'Lan: Velana, there is an act that transcends logic and is more powerful
    than emotion. It is called forgiveness.

    Velana: You're saying I should just forgive him? Like it never happened?

    T'Lan: I am not. I am simply saying that your anger with him does you
    absolutely no good. Whatever emotions you have towards Maddox's father is
    what Maddox will feel for him, too. Do you want him to grow up hating his
    own father?

    Velana: Of course not.

    T'Lan: ::after a moment:: I've never told you this because I never wanted
    you to doubt your father for any reason, but Kvoss broke off our engagement
    the night before our joining.

    ::It was like hearing that Zefram Cochrane had faked his warp flight.::

    Velana: ::blinking:: Excuse me?

    T'Lan: Oh, yes. He said we were too young and he wasn't sure if he was
    ready and he wanted to focus on medicine before he had to deal with a wife
    and children. ::She smiled ruefully at the memory.:: Of course, he
    changed his mind in time for the ceremony to go ahead, but for nearly a
    day, my heart was broken.

    Velana: I'm not sure that's an equivalent scenario, Mother.

    T'Lan: Imagine I hadn't forgiven him and I believe you will find that it
    is. ::She leaned closer to the screen.:: I am not telling you what to
    do. I am simply asking you to examine what is ruling you right now. Logic
    or emotions? Remember...

    ::Velana closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the words her father had
    spoken so often.::

    Velana: ::whispering:: Balance.

    ::T'Lan sat back in satisfaction.::

    T'Lan: All right. Now tell me everything about my grandson.

    Lt. Commander Velana
    Chief Medical Officer
    USS Vigilant

    • Like 1
×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use.