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Sal Taybrim

Lt. Cmd. Silveira: Relativity.

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(( USS Nerandra, Sickbay))

 

::No plan survives contact with the enemy. At least not in its original form, because there is always that imponderal that reality shoves up on your face.

But Vitor was never much fan from Moltke the Elder. In fact he always considered the Prussians generals a little over rated, mostly because he was never a fan of Clausewitz and always thought his book was not the broader military manual most considered.

 

However now was not the time to bring in war theory considerations, it was time to adapt the plan to the detail the Devil has put in front of him.

 

And there were at least 4 or 5 details, in the form of the Romulans that beamed in to Sickbay.

In the second he realized it, he went for his phaser and shouted again.::

 

Silveira: SEAL THE MORGUE. INCOMING…

 

::Not waiting for the replies from the rest of the team, as the Romulans materialized he fired his phaser up in their general direction and shut the door to the morgue. He jumped for cover. Raising his phaser from behind the biobed he was now kneeling behind he fired again, as disruptor fire blasted around him.

 

He was pinned down and he only hoped the others reacted quickly. In a second he made a decision.

 

In the next he almost changed his mind, when he realized he would never consider this.

He was always the first to step in and ready to sacrifice himself. Always ready to make the last stand.

 

Not this time.::

 

Silveira: I surrender...

 

::It was time to change the plan. His mind returned to military strategists, and the one, and Vitor didn’t cared about the discussions surrounding the real authorship of the book, he considered the real master of war. The one that put on the principles that were truly “The Art of War”, over 3000 Earth years ago.

 

And as Sun Tzu wrote, “To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill”.::

 

Vrerik: Yes, I’m sure you do…

 

::Vitor threw his phaser over the biobed, before slowly raising behind the biobed with his hands above his head. He avoided looking to the Morgue door and firmly kept his eyes on who appeared to be the leader of the team.::

 

Silveira: Lieutenant Commander Vitor Stone Silveira, Starfleet number O238907VS0.

 

Vrerik: Well, Lieutenant-Commander Silveira. ::Motioning with his pistol.:: Why don’t you have a seat?

 

::He walked slowly to the bench the Romulan pointed to him. With relief he saw him motioned for three of the guards to leave and secure the hallway outside.

Besides the leader there was just another gard. He hoped the others on the morgue could listen to them and were taking what little time he was buying them.::

 

Vrerik: I have some questions for you, Commander. ::Stepping closer, the Romulan promptly back-handed Vitor with his pistol.:: How many others have you brought aboard?

 

::Vitor managed to remain seated as he was struck. It was a good blow and he felt the blood inside his mouth. It hurt, but he had taken worse blows.

Vitor raised his head and smirked at his captor, with his best teasing expression, in spite the sore cheek.::

 

Silveira: Just a few. We don’t need much to take back what is ours.

 

::Then the alarms sounded around them. Quarantine fields were raised and Vitor smiled realizing the plan was in motion and the others managed to beam out the canisters..::

 

Vrerik: I asked you ::Another backhand:: how many!?

 

::Vitor nearly fell off this time and now it really hurt. His left side felt warm and he lost sight for a moment. He felt something else on his brow, but now he couldn’t tell if it was the bruise or a cut.

Knowing it was a matter of time he kept the defying expression, forcing himself to a wide smile, and hopping Max could hear him.::

 

Silveira: Shirley. You can’t expect me to tell you.

 

::That looked like it worked. He wondered if the Romulan knew that classic humor gag.

He pressed his pistol into Vitor’s forehead, with a cruel smile on his face.

 

It wasn’t the first time he was on a hot spot like this one. But there is always something about having a gun in you head, and an enemy ready to use it.

Vitor kept his posture, but he couldn’t help it as the thoughts of the two most important persons in his life rose from the back of his head.

 

Jonathan and Fai.

 

And again time, but not really about the form, or the fact it had been just a few seconds that feel like hours. But of future and present.

 

Because that was what Jonathan and Fai meant to him right now, and for them he would risk it all.::

 

Silveira: Like the klingons say, today is a good day to die.

 

Vrerik: As you wish it, Starfleet.

 

::The Romulan pressed harder the pistol and Vitor closed his eyes.

 

Perhaps he overplayed his bluff.

 

Could it be that the final moment really come? After all the years on the edge, sometimes ready to leap, was it now?

 

Even closed, his eyes began to burn, as he felt tears forming in them.

He was losing the future, Jonathan. Seeing his son grow, proud of his heritage, half Human half Andorian, in a Federation that although it wasn’t perfect it would allow him to live free, and work with others, boldly going where ever he wanted.

And the present, with Fai. More than anything else he feared for how she would suffer from his loss.

 

In that second, that relative second that felt like an hour, his thoughts were to them.

 

He barely realized the pressure from the pistol eased, until it was gone, and he only opened his eyes when the Romulan spoke.::

 

Vrerik: What…. ::A growl.:: Starfleet tricke- tric- ery….

                   

::His enemy began to collapse, losing his pistol and fighting to keep himself straight.

The tears in his eyes fell as he smiled.

He felt them burn when they pass by the side of his face that was hurt, but he kept smiling.

 

Forcing himself up he spoke, uncertain if the Romulan could hear him.::

 

Silveira: We learn it from the Romulans.

 

::He pushed himself forward and walked to the nearest console, tapping it to open a line to the morgue. To his surprise it was already open, and his smile widen as he spoke.::

 

Silveira: Sorry about that, Shirley here wanted to spoil our party.

 

Zel,Elspeth,McLaren,EMH,Maxwell: ?

 

::Vitor nodded even if they couldn’t see him.::

 

Silveira: It worked, thankfully it worked…

 

Zel,Elspeth,McLaren,EMH,Maxwell: ?

 

::Vitor’s head began to hurt and he had to lean down.::

 

Silveira: So… Who is going to give me a hand here? Shirley gave me a couple of slaps with his pop gun and it’s hurting like hell.

 

Zel,Elspeth,McLaren,EMH,Maxwell: ?

 

::Vitor tried to answer them, but his legs gave in and he stumbled to the ground. He felt dizzy, hurt and couldn’t think straight.::

 

Silveira: oO Dammit… Don’t let me die on the beach… Oo

 

TAG/TBC

 

Lt. Cmd. Vitor S. Silveira

Chief of Operations

Starbase 118 Ops

O238907VS0

 

--

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