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Alucard Vess

PNPC Toran Sevo (Alt.) - Crashing Down

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(( Toran Sevo’s Quarters - U.S.S. Gorkon ))

 

:: What a wild day. It started as a nice, refreshing time out with some of the Gorkon’s crew on the Helase. He had intended to let his alternate/future self, Ayiana, “out on the town.” They spent several hours on the Helase, with Toran steering her into the casino and some much-needed life experience. He left her to her friends and crewmates, and wandered off on his own. It didn’t last, however, as the face that had haunted Toran the past month had suddenly popped up on every screen in the ship. Erik Jansen. The man responsible for the destruction of the Triumphant. The man who attacked Quinn. The man who declared their lives were not worth living; “it was better to side with the Dominion.” Which he did. Now he was here, hunting down his former crewmates. Before he knew it, Toran was back on the Gorkon, in his posh quarters, barreling away from the Helase as fast as they could. ::

 

T. Sevo (Alt): oO Its not fair. Just. Not. Fair. Oo

 

:: Toran took another swig of the vile brown liquid from the bottle, feeling it burn his throat on the way down. He hadn’t drunk much over the years. Alcohol was hard to come by post-War. Now, with functioning replicators and a fully-stocked bar, he had taken to having a few drinks from time-to-time. At first, it was just the experience; to feel his inhibitions melt, the chemicals fog his brain and his troubles. So he started drinking some more. And a little more. Sure, he could have the syntheholic crap, but it didn’t have the same “kick.” It didn’t befuddle one’s mind; which was something Toran sorely needed. ::

 

T. Sevo (Alt): oO How the hell did I get here? Oo

 

:: He had met the young Ayiana after the Battle. At first, Toran was simply glad to see another Trill besides Kael Seren. She was more shocked than he was to discover him alive. It turned out she was the next host of the Sevo symbiont in her universe. A universe where he had died. That wasn’t much of a shock. Being a career soldier, Toran was trained and fully prepared to die in combat if necessary. ::

 

:: What he hadn’t expected, however, was to die not at once, but little-by-little, over the years after their successful war with the Dominion. Ayiana explained that Toran lost himself to depression, drinking, and despair. “Posttraumatic stress disorder” was the clinical term; he thought of it as Hell itself. The psychological trauma slowly caused his isoboramine levels to drop to catastrophic levels. Ayiana told him he was near-suicide and probably would have gone through with it if Sevo hadn’t been removed. ::

 

:: In some cruel way, Toran considered his survival in this universe to be a blessing in disguise. Constantly being on the run, the occasional fight, and generally helping out on the ships he lived on had seemingly kept him distracted from thinking too much of his life and the war. The war they had lost. It was better than Ayiana’s paradise world. There, Toran had returned to an untouched Trill. The Powers-That-Be thought he, along with the millions of other veterans and survivors, could simply return to their lives. A little wiser, more experienced, some trauma, but mostly unscarred; despite the history of PTSD on countless worlds demonstrating otherwise. ::

 

T. Sevo (Alt): oO We all pay our dues in the end, it seems. Oo

 

:: It seemed his other life had caught up with him. With all his free time roaming the massive and immaculate Gorkon with nothing to do, his mind had finally had time to process everything that happened over the past fifteen years. It came in dreams at first, vivid, terrifying dreams. Or memories? They turned into nightmares. Then, Toran could barely sleep at all. That was one reason he took Ayiana to the Helase; to get *his* mind off things as much as her’s. ::

 

T. Sevo (Alt): oO Yet again, Erik, you are ruining my life. Oo

 

:: Suddenly, the klaxons blared in his alcoholically-sensitive ears. Red alert lighting (true red lights!) flashed on his computer’s screen, and emitted from other light sources in his quarters. ::

 

Computer: Intruder Alert. Intruder Alert.

 

:: The computer’s high-pitched female-esque voice screamed in his ears like a Siren. Toran dropped the bottle. It didn’t have to go far, as he was already sitting - well, leaning - on the floor in front of his couch. Sitting up, he covered his ears with his hands. The sound was too much! Memories of Jem’Hadar and Cardassians running through the halls came shattering to the front of his mind. He didn’t want to fight them anymore. No; he wanted to hide. ::

 

T. Sevo (Alt): C-computer! Seal the door! Turn off the lights!

 

:: The room darkened, only to be lit by panel glows and the red alert lights. As he heard the snap of a forcefield cover his quarter’s doors, themselves strengthening their magnetic seal, Toran fumbled for his d'k tahg on the coffee table in front (and above) him. He leaned back against the couch, still sitting on the floor, clutching his d'k tahg tightly, as if protecting a baby. He simply sat there quietly, shivering and sweating in the dark, hoping to the Gods whatever was going on outside those doors wouldn’t come for him next. ::
 

----------------------------
First Lieutenant Toran Sevo
Refugee
----------------------------

 

simmed by

 

----------------------------
Lt. Commander Ayiana Sevo
Chief Science Officer
U.S.S. Gorkon
V239109AS0
---------------------------

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