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Vitor S. Silveira

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Posts posted by Vitor S. Silveira

    Lt. Dakora - Disorder

    in Appreciations

    Posted

    9 hours ago, Robin Hopper said:

    I promise this time I properly looked through the forums to confirm nobody else had already posted this one!

    Mission Accomplished Success GIF by THE NEXT STEP

     

    And a great sim as most in this mission.

    What a start for the Artemis 👍

    • Like 1

    Ensign Jovenan – Bold words from someone on the transporter range

    in Appreciations

    Posted

    I have loved to see how our Science Officer @Jovenan has been dealing with this mission.

    But this bada... This "attitude" really got to me. Very well done. I am loving it.

     

    Quote

    ((Transporter Room, USS Artemis))

    Lt Silveira’s injured body dematerialized in Commander Adea’s hands, and Jovenan glided her fingers on the transporter controls to end the mater stream. Lt Silveira had rematerialized in the sickbay, probably very confused.

    Adea: You!

    Kag: Response

    Commander Adea didn’t seem too pleased of his “prey” disappearing. For a few seconds he had seemed like he had been coming back to his normal self, caring Lt Silveira and trying to minimize his loss of blood. Jovenan took out her tricorder to confirm what she had expected: the aggression inducing dust had dissipated outside the planet. She didn’t know exactly what had caused it to persist in the first place, but at least here it obeyed the laws of chemistry.

    Jovenan: ::deep breath:: Computer, end contamination procedure in the transporter room, but keep the alcove field up.

    Adea: Look at me…

    Kag: Response

    The computer acknowledged Jovenan’s orders, and soon the door opened, letting in a security team. They were all equipped with phasers, ready to respond to the threat, although few of them could have guessed they would be facing a sword fielding, blood covered Commander. He was surrounded.

    Jovenan: Have you calmed down yet, sir?

    The Commander smiled. The dust had dissipated, perhaps removing access to it affected with a few minutes lag?

    Adea: I’m absolutely fine, Jovenan. Let down the forcefield. I promise I won’t kill anyone.

    That was an odd way to say it after trying to kill someone. Nonetheless, Jovenan was relieved. She had been responsible of keeping her teammates alive for way too long to her pleasing, not to mention how terrifying the Commander had been. She was happy to have Commander Adea back and in charge.

    But she couldn’t let her guard nor the force field down just yet.

    Jovenan: Good. Now just drop the sword and I will lower the force field.

    Kag: Response

    Instead of disposing the sword, the Commander… laughed? He lifted the sword and pointed it at Jovenan.

    Adea: Let down the forcefield, and I’m coming for you Jovenan. I’m coming for you, and the rest of these pathetic little wimps, hiding behind their guns. ::he smacked the handle of his sword on the forecfield:: I’LL KILL YOU ALL

    Jovenan was frightened by Adea’s threat, and even the security team adjusted their holding of the phasers. She had to lean her back against the wall not to fall over from the shock.

    She was not only frightened, but there were other emotions, in conflict. First, there was anger. For a moment, they were not on USS Artemis, but on Rubicun III, her homeworld: She was the mediator, and the Transporter Room was the punishment zone. Attempted murder: execution without trial. Threat made with lethal weapon: execution without trial. Violent coercion of an officer: execution without trial. The transporter was the ultimate instrument of death, with a single hand she could beam him to the space, scatter his atoms across the rings of Meranuge IV, alter his genetic code and molecular structure beyond recognition…

    Then, there was pity. She looked at the raging fiend beating the force field with a sword, but she also saw Doctor Genkos in there, an officer who cared about her and the rest of the crew, a man who she had begun to respect highly. She couldn’t hurt her friend, not even after all he had done.

    She didn’t know what to do. If she beamed him anywhere, he was only going to be dangerous there. If she lowered the force field, she, the security team and Commander Adea were to be in danger. If she just let him exhaust himself or wear out the dust’s effect, he could hurt himself or realise he had the command codes to the ship, potentially resulting to a catastrophe. She was an ensign and a blue-shirt, not a starship captain! She shouldn’t be making these decisions!

    The Commander kept beating the force field, and some of the security crewmembers were taking looks behind, as if asking Jovenan for orders. Can’t they make the decision themselves? Why me, I’m not in command here!

    The danger of Commander Adea doing something reckless remained, and it was taking too long. Jovenan had to get a hold of herself and act. She had hoped he would return normal but letting him stay like this was a way too great a risk. She wasn’t going to try and talk him down.

    Jovenan: ::to security team, quietly:: I’m going to drop the field and you’ll stun him.

    The security team members nodded silently, not questioning her orders to shoot their superior officer, seeing how he behaved. She felt like crying placing her finger just above the controls.

    Kag/Adea: Response?

    Jovenan: Three, two, one…

    Click.

    Kag/Adea: Response?

    TAG/TBC
    ----
    Ensign Jovenan
    Science officer
    USS Artemis-A
    E239911J11

     

    • Like 2

    Lt JG Sera - Who knew Karaoke was a Vulcan word meaning "To Suffer"?

    in Appreciations

    Posted · Edited by Vitor S. Silveira
    Forgot intro

    ((USS Narendra, Holodeck, Sakura Karaoke))  

      

    Sera regained her physical composure by sheer force of will.  She had heard of the beverage before but had never had a logical rationale to ever ingest the beverage…until now.  How was she to know that it burned like The Fires?!  

      

    Sera: ::absolutely not peeved in ANY way, shape, or form::  Why would I be resistant to a substance I have never ingested?  Your comment is illogical, Intelligence Officer Tito.   

      

    Sherlock: That's a new one on me. I thought you'd be able to handle it. ::shrugging:: Guess not.  

      

    Tender: Hey!  

      

    A rather tall skinny fellow came from the back of the bar with a tray full of bottles. His tone appeared to be…aggressive?  Had they done something grossly inappropriate?  Wait…it was the whiskey, wasn’t it? 

      

    Tender: If you want something, then you ask me.  This is not a self-serve establishment!  And if you brought it, then you need to leave it.  This is also not a byob!  

      

    Sherlock: You're just a bundle of joy, aren't ya?  

       

    Sera:  ::to anyone, really::  What is byob?  And we are quite fortunate then computer karaoke bar employee.  We brought only ourselves…I…I think. 

      

    DeVeau raised her hands at the bartender and smiled.  

      

    DeVeau: Please forgive us, we didn’t see you and it’s been a long time since we’ve been able to hang…you know what, forget it.  Computer, reset bartender.  

      

    Tito: Easy solution DeVeau  

      

    Sherlock: Sometimes, I wish you could do that in real life.  

      

    Sera: Indeed.   

     

    Truer words had never been spoken.  If such a flight of fancy could be carried forth to it’s illogical conclusion, then Sera’s first year that academy would have been completely reprogrammed. 

      

    DeVeau:  Now…where were we. Oh yes…get drinks, sing songs.  

      

    Tito: Is there a selection, or do we have to find out our own songs?  

      

    Sherlock: ::glaring at Tito:: oOYou're encouraging this?Oo ::turning back to DeVeau:: Please say we have some choices.  

       

    DeVeau: There’s a wide assortment of songs, even Vulcan ones…  

      

    Tito shot a glance at Sera, and Aine did similarly.  

     

    Sera’s expression was completely blank, which in her case meant she was working furiously to maintain her control.  This really was a psych stress eval.   

     

    Sera: How…fortuitous.  

      

    DeVeau: As for going first, I feel like since it was my idea, I should *not* go first.  But if y’all would prefer, we can draw straws.    

      

    Tito: I honestly don’t see the logic in that.  

      

    Sherlock: It's a game of chance, don't be scared.  

      

    Sera:  ::looking between the three officers::  Straws?  A game of chance?  What does a thin hollow tube used for sucking liquid from a glass or bottle have to do with this?  ::looking down to her comm badge:: Is the Universal Translator malfunctioning?  

      

    Sera was defaulting to parroting back what she was hearing in outright confusion.  When humans gathered into groups it usually devolved into social interactions Sera found incomprehensible.    

      

    DeVeau: response  

      

    Tito: Since you forced us on this social exercise, I believe you should be the one to start. But like the song goes it’s your party. Why don’t either Sherlock and Sera go first, since they warmed up their throats.  

      

    Sherlock: ::opening her mouth as if she were about to yell at Tito:: You can... ::pausing and taking a second to think about what she was about to say:: ...count on us.  

      

    Sera:  You propose I lead a Terran activity in which I have no prior knowledge or experience with?  ::exhaling through her nose resolving herself::  Very well.  I will volunteer to lead this exercise if that is…everyone’s preference.  

      

    Confusion reigned.  

      

    DeVeau: response  

     

    Sera:  Well, karaoke is similar to a Vulcan word which means ‘to suffer.’ 

     

    Sera restrained herself from getting up and walking out of the holodeck and personally ejecting herself out of the nearest airlock.  Just barely. 

     

    DeVeau:  response 

     

    Sera:  No.  A…joke. 

     

    Everyone else was irrational; she could make the argument that it was only logical to join in. 

      

    Aine took the bottle back from Sera and took another heavy swig then all but shoved it back in Sera's direction.  

      

    Sera grabbed the bottle as Sherlock slid it back across the table after taking another heavy swig.  She retrieved it before it had a chance to tumble off the surface and on the floor.  Sera tilted her head slightly to the side in a considering manner as she regarded Sherlock.  The human woman’s behavior was transforming in an unexpected manner.  She looked down at the bottle in her hands with vague suspicion.    

      

    Tito: Then why don’t we all start. Isn’t there a song we can all sing?  

      

    Sherlock: ::sarcastically:: Row, Row, Row Your Boat?  

      

    Sera:  ::to Sherlock::  What? Are you unwell? 

      

    Perhaps the solution to this was more of the whiskey?  Sera raised the bottle and took another pull imitating Sherlock’s actions.  Oh, the taste and sensation weren’t any better this second time, but she at least was prepared.  Sera might be Vulcan, but she did not enjoy being the source of others’ entertainment either.  

      

    DeVeau: response  

      

    Tito: response 

      

    Sherlock: I have an idea.  

      

    DeVeau: response  

      

    Sherlock: Since we have Vulcan songs, and a variety of Terran songs...why don't we all sing a song from where we come from?  

      

    Sera:  ::wondering if she drank all the whisky perhaps something miraculous would happen and she would require say…emergency medical treatment?::  My people are not known for popular music, Lieutenant.  

      

    DeVeau/Tito:  response 

      

    Sherlock: I think that might be fun oOTo hearOo.  

       

    DeVeau/Tito:  response 

      

    Sherlock: ::acting with a little bravado and shaking her head:: Ey ain afray.  

       

    Pushing the bottle back to the center of the table, Sera stood.  It was logical to simply get this…over with.   

      

    Sera:  Very well, Lieutenant Sherlock.  I am certain that my selection will give you all vast insight to who I am psychologically.    

      

    DeVeau/Tito:  response 

     

    She walked up and climbed the two steps onto the dais.  She walked over to the small table that held a box-like device that had an LCARS viewscreen and began tapping around on it looking at what offerings were available. 

     

    Both of her brows rose. The only way this could get any worse would be if someone decided to order it to rain in the karaoke lounge.   

     

    Sera:  These songs are regional…I don’t know any of them…and…they are funeral dirges.  ::peeved in Vulcan::  Who designed this program? 

     

    Sherlock:  response 

     

    Sera whipped her head up and looked over at the tactical officer who appeared to be having far too much fun than what was warranted.  Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly.   

     

    Sera:  You…want me…to sing something I know? 

     

    Sherlock/Tito/DeVeau:  response 

     

    Resignation.   

     

    Sera:  oO You must endure.  Do what you set out to do and get off the stage. Oo  It will be without musical accompaniment.  There are no melodies that align with the song I know. 

     

    Sherlock:  response 

     

    Sera:  oO This is revenge for winning The Game…I know it. Oo  Very well.   

     

    Ser stepped in front of the microphone and tapping it to ensure that it was working appropriately.  It was.  Fantastic. 

     

    Sera took a slow breath and exhaled softly.  She did not experience being self-conscious in the same manner humans did, but she did not wish to be seen as inept.  It was with any social species to have an inclination to conform with the majority. 

     

    She began to sing a tune that originated with her clan, written long before her birth, in a clear mezzo-soprano range.   

     

    Sera:  <<In Vulcan, obs>> 

     

    Yuk, na' sochya  

    bru-lar k'wuhli heh ak'shem hayal,   

    nahp svizh-tor spo' wuh fnish-tor t' wuh sahriv po' mazhiv-yon,   

    fi' tor t'nash-veh wadi u' du,   

    kauk svi' sochya nam-tor hau tor t'nash-veh maut hasu  

    wuh ska' tal-muv ralash k'svi wuh goh tvelkau nash-veh had ek'wak pufai-tor   

    –abi' wuh wak, abi' nash gad  

    ish-veh kashek variben nuh' mau, halishau tan-tor svi'  

    wi nash-veh is-tor tor ish-veh dungi,  

    zhuk-fas-tor svi' wuh yon tor shetau wuh huhtik t' wun-mor   

    wuh dor, morov na' heh skil-tor  

    lu ish-veh ki' vesh' nash-veh ik t'nash-veh sha' dvel eku nash-veh svi' khom t' thee  

    wuh eit'jae, wuh nufaya –   

    oh Ket’cheleb 

    dungau du nah-tor tor fnau wuh shaht-fam igen?  

    t'nash-veh khaf-spol kuhsh-tor wuh yokul maf k'svi thee.    

    nash-veh aitlun tor shaya du, u' wuh t'naehm resha ek'wakik ne'rak thy wadi  

    hi nash-veh hafau t'nash-veh el'ru fi-tor ish-veh nak,   

    wuh kur’s t' mazhiv heh khaf heh shaukaush spes’fam kras-tor fi-tor thy wadi  

    du fam yehat gol'nev ra du nam-tor, ish-veh ki' vesh' pitoh svi' wuh yel  

    hi nash-veh wuh sayonotau nekwitaya  

    nash-veh thy korsovaya  

    il veshau…if nash-veh dvel-tor 

     

    Sherlock:  response 

     

    Sera raised a brow.  Sure, why not?  Translate the song into Federation Standard while singing it… 

     

    Sera:  I…I can.  However, I am uncertain if it will sound…It may not translate well. 

     

    Tito/DeVeau/Sherlock:  response 

     

    Sera’s sigh echoed throughout the karaoke bar, and she started slightly and could not help the slight flushing of her cheeks.  That should not have happened. 

     

    Sera:   

     

    Asleep, at peace  

    lips parted and body limp,   

    Your thoughts linger like the scent of the storm after sandfire,   

    Clinging to my skin as you,   

    even in repose are bound to my very being  

    A discordant chord within the only melody I had ever known   

    –until the times, until this day  

    Your mind calls too much, demands surrender  

    Yet I hardened to your will,  

    Forged in the fires to become the strongest of blades   

    A prize, battled for and won  

    When it was I who willingly set myself before thee  

    A supplicant, an offering –   

    Oh Ket’Cheleb 

    shall you think to tame the Endless sky?  

    My heart thrums to the consuming lament within thee. 

    I want to break you, as the war rages eternal beneath thy skin  

    But I stay my hand upon your cheek,   

    the colors of sand and blood and passions unspoken painted upon thy skin  

    You cannot help what you are, it was written in the stars  

    But I am the quenching force  

    I am thy salvation  

    Or destruction…if I choose. 

     

    Her voice trailed off to silence and she stepped away from the mic. 

     

    Sherlock/Tito/DeVeau:  response

     

      

    tags/TBC  

     

    ((OOC – I NEVER want to have to make up OR translate a song into Vulcan, again.  That is all.)) 

      

      

    *****************   

       

    Lieutenant JG Sera   

    Engineering Officer   

    SB 118 Ops   

    J239812S14  

     

     

    Edit: Sorry but somehow I deleted the introduction, here it is.

    " I always admired those that write non humans as their primaries, how they explore the other species culture, society , behavior and personality.

    But I have to give a praise to @Sera for giving us a Vulcan song (and respective translation). 

    Honestly you rocked :D "

    • Like 4

    Lt. Trovek Arys - Close Call

    in Appreciations

    Posted

    Nothing like a good Doctor turned Tactical :D

     

    Quote

    ((Shuttle Nakamura, Bajor))

    Arys stared ahead at the dark amalgamation of clouds that was hiding the unidentified vessel from view, scraping a hand through her hair before making a fist to keep it from shaking. Geleth was sat on her lap, facing Arys, and had buried her face in the woman's uniform. The girl was scared - of course she was - and Arys hated to admit that she was too.

    Scared, not experienced in a scenario such as this, and certainly not the right person to make decisions that somehow had to be in line with Starfleet’s values, and still made sure they got out of there alive.

    The Doctor took a calming breath, allowing herself a few seconds to sort through her feelings. Identify. Acknowledge. Put them aside. She needed to keep a clear head, and feelings were notorious for clouding ones judgement.

    Part of Arys felt guilty for bringing Geleth into this situation - she had wanted to take the child to Bajor when they had picked up the Sejin’s distress signal, and it hadn’t actually crossed her mind how dangerous of a situation they might be getting into. Another part of her was mad at Tito for contacting her. It said much about the mans trust in her, but said little about his ability to to put personal preference aside.

    A third part of Arys wanted Zel to take over, and that same part wanted to go hide and hope it would all blow over. But Zel, despite being an experienced pilot, looked at her to make decisions. After all, she was the one with the slightly more shiny pips.

    Trovek: Prepare to fire a warning shot. I am willing to consider this an unfortunate accident, but I don’t want them to think for one moment that we are easy prey.

    Zel raised the scarred and split ridge, and Arys waited for his input on the matter.

    Zel: Aggressive. ::He considered:: I like it.

    It was aggressive, and Arys already dreaded the report she would have to write in justification of her actions. There was a benefit of not surviving - no reports.

    Zel nosed the shuttle up, quickly gaining altitude, and pushed the impulse engines to get some distance so he could spin and make a run towards the cloud.

    Trovek: If you are against it, please say so. The way I see it they are willing to try and attack when they think we’re distracted. I don’t want to risk that.

    Arys had offered them a truce, of a sort. They had decided not to honour it.

    Zel: They’ve already shown that they’ll take potshots if we run. Even if they try to play it as ‘oops, this nasty storm cloud hit you’ they have to know that we can read that energy signature and we’ll figure it out.

    Trovek: Exactly that’s my fear. ::she agreed, letting one hand move over the console while the other held Geleth tightly to her:: I can’t get the location of the ship other than ‘within that cloud’. Can we narrow it down?

    Zel: No, we can’t actually locate the ship – only the interference cloud. They may have some kind of cloak.

    They had brought some distance between the Nakamura and the cloud, and Zel moved the shuttle in a hard bank to port, making a run towards their target.

    Arys strapped Geleth in next to her, ignoring the girls protests at being displaced like that. The betrayal in the child's eyes would, in every other situation, have made Arys feel guilty. But guilt was a feeling she had put aside, and one she currently had to place for.

    Zel: I have phasers and micro torpedoes locked at the center of the cloud. On your order.

    Was it too aggressive? Was she endangering herself, Zel and Geleth, and Foster, Tito and Sill-con with these actions? She could still change her mind, try again to be diplomatic, buy additional time for Taybrim to bring the Narendra as he had promised.

    And yet…

    Trovek: Fire.

    It was an oddly freeing feeling to give that order. The weight of the decision lifted, and Arys was more than ready to deal with whatever consequences it would carry.

    Trovek: If we miss them, it’s a warning shot. If we hit them, too bad.

    Pushing the engines, Zel performed a full-on strafing run, firing phasers into the cloud.

    If the prophets existed, this would be a great moment for them to actually be useful.

    And then, just like that, they were.

    A burst of electrical sparks and plasma fire welled from inside of the cloud, which promptly shimmered and disappeared. The ship that had hid within it, according to the Nakamura’s sensors an Orion Marauder, seemed to have had diverted power from the shields, not expecting the Nakamura to perform such an aggressive manoeuvre. Their lucky warning shot took out their cloak.

    The Marauder was six times bigger than the runabout and probably about six times as well armed, and Zel immediately began putting distance between them.

    Zel: We took out their cloak, and now their pissed. They’re raising shields. Strap in, buckle up – I mean it, we’re gonna push the inertial dampeners past the piont of reason and I don’t want you flying around the cockpit…

    Trovek: I’d prefer not to.

    Arys gave a nod, once more making sure that Geleth was safely secured before making sure that she was too.

    The intelligent thing for the Marauder was to make a run for it. They knew that help was coming - at least Arys really hoped that Taybrim came through with his promise. Unfortunately Orion weren’t exactly known for their outstanding intelligence, and these one were no exception.

    Trovek: These are the longest nine minutes of my life. ::Arys offered a wry smile:: They are charging their weapons, let’s try to not get hit.

    As if to confirm, Zel skilfully avoided whatever the Marauder was trying to throw their way. If they kept it up, they might just get out of here.

    Zel: response

    Arys' fingers sprinted back and forth over the console, checking scanners for any sign of the Narendra. Or any kind of help, really. Se saw something from the corner of her eye, and lifted her gaze from the display in front of her just on time to see the surge of energy slamming into the Nakamura. Sparks flew from the most port-side console, and Arys didn't need to be an expert to know they couldn’t take another hit like that.

    Trovek: Status?

    Zel: response

    The sound of the impulse drive flattened and slowed as Zel tried to compensate.

    Trovek: They’re charging weapons ag-…. what is that?

    It took Arys a moment to realise that their pocket-sized rescue was a probe, most likely launched from the Sejin.

    Zel: response

    The enemy vessel fired, and Arys held her breath. They wouldn’t be able to take much more of this, not with the impulse drive giving up on them. She prepared for impact and the subsequent destruction of the shuttle - perhaps she was a little dramatic with that - … and opened her eyes again as that didn’t happen.

    Trovek: They missed.

    Way to state the obvious.

    Zel: response

    Trovek: The probe is overloading their sensors. I am just not sure for how long.

    And she wasn’t going to risk finding out. 

    Zel: response

    Arys exhaled - finally. With the Narendra almost within range, their chances of survival had suddenly multiplied. She nodded, once more relying on Zel’s experience. The Sejin was stranded but hidden, and the Marauder seemed not the slightest bit interested in searching for them. 

    Trovek: Divert powers to the engines, get out of here. =/\= Trovek to Narendra. Good to see you, we brought a friend. =/\=

    Zel: response

    Narendra: response

     TAG/TBC

    *****************

    Lt. Trovek Arys

    Chief Medical Officer

    Starbase 118 Ops

    J239809TA4

     

    • Like 1
    • Haha 1

    2022 Halloween Avatar Contest: Excalibur check-in

    in Halloween Avatar Contest

    Posted

    I got big dreams. I want Fame. Well Fame cost and right here is were I start paying. 

    In sweat.  And...

     

    • A good dose of charm at your own taste (in my case 2 handfuls)
    • 3/4 spoon of hard work
    • 1/2 liter of luck
    • Passion (all you want to put in)
    • 3 packs of Comedy (physical, smart, politically incorrect)
    • 20 kilos per day of Dedication
    • total lack of self embarrassment
    • 1 grinning smile (mental note to trademark it)
    • 1 wink (also another thing to trademark)
    • a bit of nonsense (carefully measured if possible, it tends to get overused easily) 

    - mix all together and take one every morning."

     

    Sil  ;)

    • Like 2

    Zorkal/Trovek - Path of the Prophets - Decisions

    in Appreciations

    Posted

     

    ((Bajor, Raijalla Valley))

    Lukin had to admit, Bajor was beautiful. Oh it would never hold the same place in his heart as Cardassia, but it was easy to see why Cardassians so greatly desired to conquer it, and the benefits they would reap. And yet, he also knew the damage they had done.
    Looking at the scenery before them, there was no visual representation of all the ways the Occupation had affected the planet, but there were hints here and there in various ways still present in the culture and peoples of the planet. 

    But Bajor had survived the Occupation, and she was as beautiful as ever. The people had survived the Occupation and were stronger for it. And Cardassia? It too would grow stronger, and without the sins of the past repeated, if he could do anything about it. In that moment, he wondered what it would be like to simply start walking and not stop, to wander among those flower studded fields, Arys’ hand in his on one side, Geleth’s on the other. It was a nice thought. Perhaps he would do so. 

    But not yet. No, there was still much to do - at least, a lot of rubbing elbows. A moment could be taken, stolen, and it was that moment that Lukin took with Arys, who was trying to figure out if, since the Gala was not a mandatory event, she was attending as Lukin’s partner or as part of Taybrim’s crew, and if she was to wear a dress or her dress uniform. 

    Zorkal: Are you ready?

    Trovek: Far from it. 

    Makeup and hair were done, and would match both dress and uniform perfectly. It even fit to the robe she was still wearing. By contrast, he was actually ready, a suit of dark grey and deep green, the panels of the former overlaid on panels of the latter, and a silver belt clasped around his waist. 

    Zorkal: You could simply go like that. 

    He didn’t mind at all that she only had a robe on. In fact, he wouldn’t have minded removing said robe. Likely, though, it would be rejected as it really was neither the time nor the place…well, it wasn’t the time. 

    Trovek: Very funny. ::she rolled her eyes:: But there is still time. And well, I was distracted. 

    Arys glanced at the chrono, and indeed, there was time yet. She motioned for him to sit down on the bed next to her, and he did so. She hadn’t mentioned Jenis’ warning to Lukin, but she had taken action. A message had been sent to Aaron, essentially uninviting him, and another to Ferri, requesting her to change her plans and watch Geleth instead. 

    Lukin followed and sat down, waiting for her to explain herself. 

    Zorkal: By what? 

    Arys hesitated. The one moment the answer was on the tip of her tongue, the other it was gone entirely, leaving only a bitter taste to remind of it. She stood behind her decision, but she was ashamed to have brought her family here, only to back out now. 

    Trovek: Truthfully, I suppose I am asking for your forgiveness. 

    She lowered her gaze, and a frown furled over the corners of Lukin’s mouth. As far as he knew, she’d done nothing that required forgiveness. Had something occurred? Had she made a decision that would affect him and Geleth without asking? 

    Zorkal: Why? 

    Trovek: I know how much family matters. I know how privileged I am to have a brother who is alive. And that I shouldn’t throw that away. 

    Family. It was the most important thing to Cardassians, save for Cardassia itself. The family unit was generally forged with a strong bond. Men and women would weep over lost children, a matter of life on a harsh world that didn’t always have the resources it needed to support its people. It was an interesting contrast to the idea that while marriage could be for love, it was often for other reasons, and yet there was still that loyalty to the family that went beyond what others might expect from Cardassians. 

    Lukin had lost his family. His mother, father, aunts and uncles, siblings and cousins were nothing but a distant memory. 

    Zorkal: Arys, I’m not quite sure I know what you mean. 

    She looked up at him and took his hands. 

    Trovek: Something tells me it’s… ::she paused, and decided to start from the beginning:: I had offered Aaron to watch Geleth this evening… under supervision, of course but while we were at the market, one of his wives sought me out. She warned me. She said that he is exceedingly good at knowing what to say. And it’s true. He always has been. 

    And maybe that was what was bothering Lukin as well. Arys had already stated that Aaron had said the right things’ and then asked to see Geleth. What was the motivation? Was it truly altruistic? Was it really because Geleth was part of the family? 

    Zorkal: That makes him dangerous.

    His hands tightened their grip on hers a little, and she nodded. 

    Zorkal: So what do you wish to do?

    Trovek: I… want to be careful. I don’t think I would want him to meet Geleth, or you. ::she paused:: Not yet. Maybe never. Maybe being as far away from his as possible is the best course of action. 

    That was unexpected. Lukin had thought that Arys was on a mission to save her brother, but now she seemed uncertain. 

    Zorkal: If that is what you wish. 

    If it disappointed him, or if it displeased him, he didn’t say, and Arys was grateful for his support.
    She squeezed his hands and got up again. 

    Trovek: If anything, I feel more guilty about telling Ferri she has to watch Geleth. I think she quite enjoyed spending time with the Ensigns. ::she smiled:: I’ve never seen her so chatty before. 

    Zorkal: Then perhaps we shall invite them over along with her and she can chat more with them there. 

    But while they were on Bajor, Geleth would either accompany him, Arys, or Ferri. Since the gala had diplomatic implications, Lukin was not inclined to miss it. Arys was a part of the crew who had been invited, so she could not miss it. 

    Trovek: I suppise you’re right. ::she sighed:: Well, let’s get ready. 

    Zorkal: I am already ready. I can not say the same about you. 

    Though he personally rather liked her with the robe. Even better without it.

    She tilted her head and took off the robe, tossing it onto the bed. 

    Trovek: Could go like this. 

    Zorkal: My dear, as much as I would greatly enjoy taking advantage of your current condition, we are expected at an event and it would reflect poorly if we were not to show up. And I guarantee that I would not allow you to show up in such a state, no matter how glorious it may be.

    In truth she was, of course, not planning on going like… that. She turned and picked the dress uniform from the table. She would have preferred something else, after all, she was there as Starfleet Officer. 

    Zorkal: I find that infinitely more appropriate. I will relieve you of it later. 

    Trovek: Sometimes I wonder if you even still love me. ::she pouted, but wasn’t all too serious about it:: We haven’t had a real argument in ages. Stop being so agreeable and supportive, I hate it. 

    Zorkal: I could order you not to go to the gala, but that would be counter productive. I’m sure we’ll find some reason to disagree sooner rather than later. But if you would do something about your attire, otherwise we may never reach our destination. 

    There was a slight quirk at one corner of his mouth, just a hint, and then it grew a little wider. Rarely, if ever, were his features ever fashioned into an exuberance that others wore, but for him, his smiles to Arys and Geleth, born of sincere love and devotion, even if he might not admit it to others beyond that carefully cultivated circle, were a Cardassian defined level of joy.. 

    Arys decided that yes, it was time to get dressed, and did so. Now clad in her fancy uniform she walked up to Lukin, moved a hand to the side of his face, on her lips a somewhat condescending smile. 

    Trovek: It’s adorable when you think you’re in charge, my lizard. 

    Zorkal: It’s amusing that you think I’m not.

    Lukin chuckled softly, then pressed his warm lips against her forehead, one hand sliding around her waist. 

    Zorkal: Shall we?

    Trovek: We shall. 

    She nodded, and together they left for the Gala. Flirtatious mood aside, Arys was still worried. To someone on the outside, Aaron’s reaction to the withdrawal of his invitation had been cool and collected, supportive of her decision even if a little disappointed. 

    But Arys had seen something in his eyes, a glimmer of something that was neither supportive nor disappointed. 

    Had reconnecting with him been a mistake? 

     

    Lt. Trovek Arys
    Chief Medical Officer
    Starbase 118 Ops
    J239809TA4

    And 

    Dalin Lukin Zorkal
    Cardassian Ambassador
    Starbase 118 Ops
    M239008AD0

     

    • Like 2
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    Poll of the Month: Lower Decks vs. Lower Decks

    in Poll of the Month

    Posted · Edited by Vitor S. Silveira

    MARINER

    Obvious choice because she's a hard-working officer who never cuts corners problems, always obeys authority and has never always deserved any of her promotions. We can say that because it's not true. An incredibly hot mess, Mariner is a fantastic officer with an amazing intuition and drive, but possibly without ambition.

     

    Sounds very relatable :D

    • Haha 1

    Lt. Trovek - Path of the Prophets - Hilja and Jeni

    in Appreciations

    Posted

    I am so eager to see how this will unfold. And even if @Arys gave me a few spoilers I still think she might hold a surprise in her hand.

     

    Quote

     

    ((Somewhere on Bajor))

     

    A few days ago, Arys had met with her brother Aaron for the first time in almost a year, and despite their differences, their little family reunion had gone a lot better than expected - even if far from perfect. Aaron had, at first, been appalled by the idea that his sister was planning to get married to a Cardassian. Even if he himself hadn’t experienced the Occupation, he had been raised by someone who had, and who even now made sure he stood firmly in his dislike towards everything Cardassian, or non-Bajoran for that matter. 

    What seemed to have changed his mind was that Arys insisted on how different Lukin was. He was kind, caring, and interested in lasting peace and cultural exchange. But what made him stand out, in particular, was that he had been willing to adopt a little, an orphaned Cardassian-Bajoran hybrid.

    Before parting ways, Aaron had invited Arys to visit him and the family she could be part of if she decided to stay on Bajor. Arys was following that invitation as she stepped off the transporter pad and looked around with thinly veiled surprise. She found herself on the edge of a small village that, with its traditional houses and surrounding farmlands, seemed so very different from the large cities of Earth she had grown up in.

    Taking a few tentative steps towards the centre of the little village, she noticed that the path that was laid out on her PADD seemed her way led her away from the town, rather than towards it. 

    Of course, Arys sighed. Aaron had always liked an air of mystery around his person, and it only made sense that it extended to his place of residence. She just wished he had told her and an hour of walking was involved.

    Though after the first few minutes she quickly noticed that she didn’t mind as much as she initially thought she would - It was peaceful here, and instilled a sense of serenity and safety, and was a welcome break from life with Lukin and Geleth, from work in sickbay, and from her occasional synthethol-based adventures with Foster, Rue, or Aine. 

    The path she was following eventually arrived at a small farmhouse overshadowed by several enormous nya trees. Kuja flies and liccie bugs buzzed all around the cacophony of flowers near the entrance, and dozens of frog-like creatures living in a small pond to the side filled the air with croaks and splashes. Arys couldn’t quite explain it, but there was just something about the farm that felt intimate and welcoming. Like returning home after a long and exhausting mission.

    She knocked on the door - a foreign yet familiar gesture, and a moment later said door creaked open. The girl who stood to greet her was blonde and had just about reached adulthood, but at the same time was quite visibly pregnant. She wore simple and modest linen clothing, and greeted Arys with the same knowing smile Aaron had plastered on his face. 

    Hilja: We've been told of your arrival ::she beamed:: It’s good to meet you, sister - Welcome! I’m Hilja. 

    Arys stepped inside and just about dodged Hilda’s attempt to hug her. 

    Trovek: Thanks... I'm Arys. ::pause:: But you know that. 

    She sheepishly looked around, trying to take in her surroundings. The interior of the house was held in natural tones that were usual for Bajoran design, and Hilja laughed as she motioned for Arys to come along. 

    Hilja: Of course you are. ::she motioned for Arys to follow her as she made her way through the hallway:: Aaron is not here at the moment, but he will arrive for dinner. I hope that doesn't disappoint you. 

    Disappoint her? No, but it certainly came as a surprise. After all, she was following his invitation. Arys shrugged to herself and followed Hilja, trying not to wonder if the girl was one of Aaron’s wives. She was marrying a Cardassian, he was marrying several barely-legal girls. They both had their flaws. 

    That said, he wasn’t the only difficult family member Arys had to deal with. 

    Trovek: What about Sileah? Is she here? 

    Hilja: Sileah doesn’t want to see you. ::she turned, offering her a sad smile:: I’m sorry, Arys. 

    Arys shook her head. She hadn’t expected anything else, and she didn’t wantto see her mother in the first place. Why had she even asked? 

    Trovek: That’s quite alright. 

    They continued, and the hallway opened to a large living area with wooden furniture, an actual fireplace, and colourful rugs on which several children between the age of perhaps three and six years were playing. They regarded Arys with curiosity, but it seemed the arrival of strangers wasn’t unusual to them. 

    Despite now having a child of her own, the children didn't exactly capture Arys' attention. They were cute, sure, but that was about it. 

    Trovek: Yours? 

    Arys asked curiously and was somewhat relieved when Hilja shook her head. She motioned towards her own babybelly with the beaming smile of a future mother. 

    Hilja: This is my first. I'm really excited to meet him ::she paused:: Or her! I don't know yet. 

    Trovek: Do you want it to be a surprise? 

    There was a flicker of... something in the girl's eyes, something Arys caught immediately, and which caused her to focus her attention fully on the young woman. 

    Trovek: You didn't visit a hospital yet. ::she waited for Hilja to confirm, then continued:: How far along are you? And it is Aaron's right?

    Hilja nodded meekly before she spoke. 

    Hilja: Four months. And yes. 

    Arys smiled, but her practised gaze eyed Hilja up and down with some concern. She was petite. Birthing a Bajoran child would be difficult enough, but gestation for Bajoran-Human hybrids was somewhere between six and seven months, and the unborn child was larger and heavier. This could potentially be a very complicated birth. 

    Hilja: Do you have children of your own? 

    Arys nodded, deciding to deal with this new complication at a later stage. 

    Trovek: I do. I have a little daughter.

    Hilja: Oh cute, what's her name? 

    Arys had almost answered that question with "Geleth", but Lukin was right to not want to disclose this information. 

    Trovek: We call her Jelly. 

    Hilja: Oh that's so cute! Maybe our children can be friends. 

    Arys nodded, deciding there and then that she would talk to Aaron about getting Hilja the medical care she would need, and suggest he start marrying people his own age. 

    They walked over to the playing children, Hilja told Arys their names, but Arys wasn't really listening. What she really wanted to know was if these were just 'some kids' or if these were her nieces and nephews. With the human ancestry two generations away, it was difficult to tell. 

    Footsteps in the hallway announced the arrival or additional people, and a moment later two women stepped into the room, introducing themselves as Kasira and Nimea. Both were (thankfully) around Arys’ age, one of them with dark hair and blue eyes, the other brunette and a little taller than her. More interesting than the two Bajorans however was the child one of them was carrying in her arms. From what Arys could guess, the toddler was perhaps two years old, and a little bigger than the usual Bajoran child at that age. A lot more interest than that, however, were the genetic markers that determined the child's appearance. Brown hair framed a round, slightly puffy face, and while the 'wrinklies' (that's what Geleth called them) indicated Bajoran heritage, the spots on both sides of her face clearly indicated 'Trill'. 

    Trovek: Oh hi there. ::Arys extended her hand towards the little girl, using her baby voice:: 

    The brunette smiled, turning the girl to face Arys. 

    Kasira: You must be Arys - this is Leothera - Leo for short. 

    Arys wondered why everyone here seemed to know her name. She also wondered if the name Leo had been chosen because of the spots, but decided that a Leo wasn't a leopard and that leopards weren't a thing on Bajor. 

    Trovek: Your daughter is adorable.

    Kasira: Oh she isn't my daughter. I'm just taking care of her for the time being. Her mother is a Starfleet Officer and decided it's better for Leo to stay with family while she is gone.

    Arys blinked in surprise. So one of her nieces was half Trill, and one of her sisters-in-law was a Starfleet Officer? She had expected a lot, but certainly not something like that - after all, Aaron had always preached Bajoran supremacy. 

    Trovek: Hi Leo. ::she smiled at the child:: You are adoooooorable. 

    Ugh. Maybe she did have a motherly bone in her body after all, or perhaps she was just glad to have proof of Aaron’s claim that he had changed. 

    The rest of the tour of the farmhouse was somewhat uneventful. The number of women living here fluctuated, and Hilja hinted that there was a large retreat somewhere, but didn't want to elaborate on when one qualified to visit said retreat, or where it was. That said, Arys didn't mind it here at all. It was a nice and modest property in bright colors and with open doors, and with women who supported each other in raising the children their lives revolved around. 

    Arys and Hilja chatted about the pregnancy, with Arys offering more than once to take the younger woman to a hospital, and eventually, they agreed on her returning with a medical tricorder. 

    Trovek: What's there? 

    Asked Arys, approaching a room to which the door was closed, which made it stand out from any other room in the house. She approached, curious as to what waited inside, but as she tried the door handle, found it locked.

    Hilja: Oh, that's the prayer room. 

    Trovek: Huh. Do you have a key? 

    Hilja shook her head and seemed somewhat relieved when Arys offered a shrug. Not like she wanted to see a prayer room that badly. If she did, she might as well have visited the temple with Lukin and Geleth.

    Hilja: Aaron said you don't follow the prophets. So you wouldn't really like it anyway. 

    Trovek: That's correct, I suppose. 

    Hilja: I think you would enjoy the Garden though. Would you like to see it?

    Before Arys could reply, Hilja already began leading down the hallway - Arys wasn't sure if she was so eagerly leading her into the Garden, or away from the ‘secret room’.

    Arys followed Hilja back to the living area and from there into the Garden, where the young girl excused herself as one of the children began crying. Arys didn’t mind, and as a matter of fact, she was glad to have some time to herself. So far, the visit had been a pleasant surprise, but at the same time the new information was a little overwhelming, and it would be good to collect her thoughts. 

    The luscious field of grass that made out the main part of the garden was surrounded by evergreen bushes and shrubs, and she could make out beds of flowers and fruits and vegetables that were surely thriving in Bajor’s warm autumn sun. A few young trees offered shade, and their roots playfully crept and crawled their way through the garden, expanding their foothold beyond the locations given to them.

    On the edges of the property, the farmland seemed eager to reclaim its domain, and there was no clear distinction as to where it began and the garden ended. 

    Arys liked it here. It reminded her of her grandfather’s property on Earth, and as she strolled through the garden, listening to the chirping of porli in the distant trees, she wondered what had become of it. Last she heard, her father had tried to sell it. 

    She sat down on a wooden bench, and turned to look back at the farmhouse. Somehow, she had always imagined Aaron living in a temple, where his many wives worshipped a statue of him and Sileah. Perhaps not that, but definitely something along those lines.

    Instead, she had found that he was living with his family. An unusual and imperfect family, just like her own. 

    Jeni: Hello, Arys. 

    Arys turned around as a soft voice interrupted her thoughts. She must have been so lost in thought that she hadn’t noticed the woman sitting down next to her. It wasn't Hilja, and it wasn't any of the other women she'd seen around the house, but this one wore the same linen dress as the others did. Her hair was strawberry blonde, her features delicate, and in an instant, Arys knew who that was. 

    Trovek: Jeni. 

    The woman nodded and Arys marvelled at how she looked exactly like Arys had imagined her growing up. Warm, radiant, and beautiful. While Arys and Jeni hadn't been close, they had still been friends, and after the nightmare that had featured her and Kent, Arys found herself thinking back to that time more often than usual. 

    Jeni: And here I was worried you would not recognize me. 

    Trovek: Yes it’s.. Been a while. 

    Not to mention that, until a few seconds ago, Arys had thought Jeni to be dead. According to Arys, Jeni’s family had been part of Sileah's followers, and had something to do with an explosion in a nearby warehouse, and one of the many things she blamed her mother for was the girl’s death. 

    And yet here she sat. Unharmed. An adult. 

    Jeni: More than two decades. I know. 

    Trovek: … I thought you had died. 

    And now?

    Jeni laughed and shook her head, placing a hand on Arys' shoulder. 

    Jeni: I am right here. Children have a very lively imagination, don’t they? 

    Arys nodded. Since people didn't randomly come back from the dead, it was far more likely that she, back then, had been an angry teenager making up horrible stories about her mother. 

    Jeni: So what brings you here? Are you visiting your family?

    Trovek: Yes. My brother in particular. 

    Jeni: How come? You were never close.

    That was true, and of course, Jeni would remember all the arguments the Trovek children were known for. Arys hadn't been particularly quiet about her disdain towards her brother and her mother and Bajor and everything Bajoran.

    Trovek: I suppose I… changed my mind? Things happened and they changed my mind.

    Jeni: How do you like it here? 

    Trovek: It's... nice? ::She opened her mouth, wanting to remark on how it was still odd that Aaron had his own harem, but decided against it before any word could escape::

    Jeni: Did you notice that Nimea looks a lot like you? Isn’t that a little offputting? 

    Arys frowned. She hadn’t quite noticed that before, but now that Jeni mentioned it, there definitely were similarities. The woman who had introduced herself as Nimea was her age, had the same wavy black hair and dark blue eyes, and even her figure resembled hers. 

    How had she not noticed that? 

    Trovek: I… guess? I don’t really know anything anymore. It's been an interesting few days to be sure. 

    Jeni: Sometimes answers are hidden in plain sight. ::she shrugged:: Maybe in that secret room. 

    Trovek: The.. what?

    Arys asked, but she knew exactly what Jeni meant. The room with the locked door, which Hilja had called the 'prayer room'. Arys had thought about it as 'secret room', largely for her own entertainment, but she hadn't said it out loud.

    Jeni: The room with the locked door. 

    Trovek: The prayer room. 

    Jeni nodded and Arys sighed. Find answers in prayer. Really? 

    Jeni: ::sensing Arys' apprehension:: Maybe not now. Maybe opening that door won’t make things better. ::She paused, letting the silence settle, before eventually, she added:: But it’s odd that a prayer room should be locked, isn’t it? Why do you think that is? 

    Trovek: I… suppose it’s to keep people from going inside? 

    Jeni: That is one out of two options. 

    Before Arys could reply, someone else called her name, this time it was Aaron who stood by the house, waving her over to him while simultaneously making his way to her. 

    Jeni: I will leave you to it. 

    Trovek: I’ll see you around, I guess. 

    Jeni: You will.

    Somehow that sounded ominous, but Arys tried to shake that thought as she got up and met Aaron halfway. 

    Aaron: Speaking to the Prophets, little sister, or still relying on yourself? 

    Arys gave a smirk and a nod, but did find that an odd comment to make. 

    Trovek: The latter. But who knows, maybe I'll try things your way. 

    He seemed elated by that idea and ushered her towards the house. 

    Aaron: Let's head inside. We have much to discuss. 

    Lt. Trovek Arys

    Chief Medical Officer

    Starbase 118 Ops

    J239809TA4

     

     

    • Like 3
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    Trovek/Geleth - Path of the Prophets - Unity Temple

    in Appreciations

    Posted

    Again @Arys gives us a great view into her character. And again I wasn't expecting the direction it took. I loved it.

     

    Quote

    ((Town of Carinth, Raijalla Valley, Bajor))

    The USS Narendra had docked at Deep Space Nine, and Arys was lucky to have been amongst one of the first crewmembers permitted to take the shuttle to Bajor. She had Geleth to thank for that. While the little girl had behaved well during the days they spent travelling, she had gotten restless and stir-crazy as soon as Bajor had come into view. 

    Arys couldn’t blame her, even if the idea of going to Bajor didn’t exactly instil Arys with excitement. If anything, she felt anxious. 

    While Arys’ mother Sileah was Bajoran, she herself had never felt connected to her ancestry, and never accepted Bajoran culture and customs as her own. Generally speaking that wouldn’t have been a problem if Sileah hadn’t made it into one. Thinking back to her childhood and early teens, most arguments between mother and daughter were caused by Arys’ reluctance, or outright refusal, to join celebrations of Bajoran holidays and participate in prayers. 

    Then again, thinking back to that time, and now raising a little girl of her own, Arys would have done many things differently. 

    Geleth: What is that? 

    The little girl’s voice pulled Arys out of her regrets and back into the here and now, where warm rays of sunlight bathed the plaza in golden light. Arys had almost forgotten how beautiful Bajor was, with its large stretches of forested woodland, the thousands of lakes that dotted the landscape, and the tall mountains rising in the distance. But Geleth wasn’t talking about any of that. 

    Trovek: What is what?

    Arys turned her head to look down at the little girl, and then allowed her gaze to follow her outstretched arm towards what it was the child had spotted. The building in question was distinctly Bajoran, and yet even from a distance adorned with elements of other cultures. Eight spires flanked right and left, and while Arys didn’t know if the number held any significance, she could see, and appreciate, the nod towards Cardassian architecture. In contrast to that, the wide, squared archways reminded of Klingon or perhaps Terran influences. Behind the dome-shaped structure was a lower building, perhaps a place for the Vedeks and other religious devotees to remain during their pilgrimage, and a squared building with large windows likely served as a visitor centre or museum. 

    The temple was beautiful, its open gates welcoming to any who might visit, and Arys guessed that this was the newly built Unity Temple she had seen advertised. 

    Trovek: That’s a temple to the Prophets, but it’s a special one. 

    Geleth: Why is it special?

    The plaza filled with arriving crewmen, and Arys reached out for Geleth’s hand, leading her to a slightly less crowded area. She was thankful for the fact that this bought her a few additional seconds to come up with a good response to the girl’s question. She knew what made the temple special, and in honour of what it had been erected, but she didn’t quite know how to explain it to a six years old child. 

    Trovek: Well, you see, there was a time when Bajor was … visited… by another species. And while they visited, they destroyed many of the temples and took things for their own homeworld. 

    She glanced at Geleth, watching the girl’s face scrunch up in thought. So far, so good…

    Trovek: Over the past years, a lot of efforts were made to recover as many of those things as possible. And when the things were brought back, they needed a place for them, so they build a temple. And because Bajor’s friends helped to recover those things, they made the temple to look like this. 

    Internally, Arys congratulated herself for such a child-friendly description. 

    Geleth: Lukin said you can’t take things from others. Because, that would be stealing. I don’t want to be a… stealer. 

    Trovek: That’s true. ::she nodded, opting not to correct ‘stealer’ into ‘thief’:: But you know, it’s easy to be a good person when you have everything you want. 

    Benjamin Sisko was quoted to have said something along the lines of ‘it’s easy to be a saint in paradise’. Cardassian hadn’t invaded Bajor out of malice, but because their own homeward was poor on resources. Not that this excused what had happened, but sooner or later Geleth would learn about her own species’ involvement in Bajor’s history, and it was important for her to understand that there was more to the story than a black and white definition of good and evil. 

    Geleth: Lukin says you can never be a stealer. ::the girl frowned:: So you are wrong, Arys. 

    Arys closed her eyes and shook her head. So much for her confidence in parenting skills. 

    Trovek: … Fine, Lukin is right. 

    Geleth nodded, evidently pleased with how she had outreasoned Arys. She observed the temple for a short while before she continued her interrogation.

    Geleth: Do you pray to the Prophets? 

    Arys shook her head. Despite having grown up in a very religious household, Arys had never truly believed in prayers and worship. As a child, she had been sure that the Prophets were essentially imaginary friends. Now she had settled on the idea of them being Aliens that liked being prayed to by gullible people.

    A small smile formed on her lips as she remembered that it was her disdain towards the Prophets in general that had drawn the attention of Lukin. She couldn’t quite remember what it was she had said to the two Cadets she had been accompanied by, but it must have been something along the lines of ‘if you want to pray to some alien, pray to that Cardassian over there’. 

    And of course, Lukin hadn’t at all minded the idea of being worshipped. 

    Trovek: I don’t. 

    Geleth took a moment to process this information, returning her gaze to the temple. 

    Geleth: Can I pray to the prophets? 

    That was a very good question. There were many religious groups that believed Bajor was for Bajorans, and by extension, that worshipping the Prophets was a privilege only Bajorans held. Then again, Arys wasn’t sure if there was actual doctrine that kept others from converting to their faith. Logically, the answer to Geleth’s question should be yes. 

    But then why did it make Arys nauseous to even think about it? Geleth frowned and pressed on, growing impatient as Arys didn’t respond.

    Geleth: Can we go there now? 

    Trovek: No we can’t. I forbid it. 

    The answer had come without much thought, and without the usual warmth her voice held when addressing Geleth. Arys bit her lip, trying to backpedal on her statement, but it seemed like the damage was already done. The girl’s lower lip quivered and her blue eyes filled with tears that brimmed over when Arys knelt down to her. 

    Trovek: I’m sorry. It makes me uncomfortable, you know? 

    A lame excuse for a disdain that shouldn’t affect what Arys allowed Geleth, and what not. 

    Geleth: W-… why…. ? It’s so pretty….. 

    Why? 

    Arys didn’t know. The temple was majestic and beautiful and inviting. The wind carried the joyful chanting of devotees over the fields, and the warmth that welled up in Arys’ chest was comforting and suffocating at the same time. 

    Despite all, the temple was familiar. Despite all, a part of Arys longed to leave behind her concerns and doubts and join the singing. 

    Trovek: I… ::she sighed:: Please don’t cry. We can ask Lukin if he will take you. Or Ferri.

    It was likely that one of them would indeed take the girl, and the little hybrid would likely receive a warm welcome and praise for her interest in her Bajoran heritage. And part of Arys wanted to go with her, but-... 

    Geleth: I want to go find Lukin now. 

    Trovek: Of course you do. 

    Arys sighed heavily and got back up, and her heart felt like it was shrinking in her chest, flooding her body with heaviness. She was disappointed in Geleth for wanting Lukin, and in herself for not putting her past behind her.

    It was in moments like these that she very much doubted that she would ever make a good mother, and she could only be grateful that Lukin was a great father figure. Hopefully he could make up for her failure. 

     

    Lt. Trovek Arys (and Geleth!)

    Chief Medical Officer

    Starbase 118 Ops

    J239809TA4

     

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    Lt Trovek Arys - Path of the Prophets - Did you?

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    Posted

    I admit I started reading this as one thing, then it took a surprising turn and was something else.

    I love it @Arys

     

    Quote
    ((Arys’ and Lukin’s Home, Coranum District, Starbase 118))
     
    To those who knew Arys well, it easily showed when the Bajoran-Human hybrid was troubled. The telltale signs included an inexplicitly increased workload that kept her busy through the nights, caused her to skip lunch breaks and the increased usage of a replicator program that offered protein shakes. 
     
    It was a habit she had picked up as a child, and never quite been able to overcome. The difference now, however, was that she had someone who looked after her quite attentively - well, two someones. 
     
    Geleth: You did not finish the meal. That means you do not get dessert. 
     
    The little girl looked at Arys after she had popped the last halved strawberry into her mouth, and had placed the cutlery neatly next to the empty plate. While dinners were usually a family affair, it was only Arys and Geleth this evening. Lukin had an important meeting to attend to, and would only arrive late in the night. He had also asked Ferri to accompany him - officially so he did not have to take notes himself, but Arys knew that he wanted to give the young Cardassian an opportunity to learn. 
     
    Since she didn’t possess Lukin’s cooking skills (or the interest in learning them), Arys had made pancakes and strawberries. Correction - Arys had asked the replicator to make pancakes, and had washed and prepared the previously purchased strawberries and placed them in a bowl. Despite the low effort put into today’s dinner, the ensemble had won her a fair couple of points with Geleth, who adored everything sweet, and strawberries in particular. 
     
    Usually, Arys enjoyed them too. Today, however, she hadn’t quite managed to get herself to eat more than a few bites of pancake.
     
    Geleth: If you don’t hurry, I eat your dessert. 
     
    Arys raised an eyebrow, not sure how to interpret the girl’s tone of voice. It was a mixture between smug and almost taunting, and Arys wasn’t sure if this was greed, or if the child was trying to motivate her to finish her dinner. 
     
    Trovek: Well, they are pancakes. This is technically already a dessert. 
     
    The disappointment on Geleth’s face was nothing short of heartbreaking as the girl’s lower lip came forward in a pout. 
     
    Geleth: But we always have dessert. 
     
    Always, as in, when Lukin wasn’t present, and Arys had to acknowledge that she had set the expectation.
     
    Trovek: Can we compromise on chocolate milk before bed?
     
    Geleth narrowed her eyes. She knew what that word meant. It meant that Arys wanted one thing and that she wanted the other thing, and then they did a third thing that was a little like both. That way, no one was happy, but no one was sad either. 
     
    Geleth: Okay, we compopise. 
     
    Arys smiled and gave a nod, and under Geleth’s watchful eyes she somehow managed to consume the rest of the pancake on her plate. 
     
    Trovek: Do you want to help me clean up? ::she asked once the last piece of pancake had disappeared. She doubted that Geleth really wanted to clean up, but Lukin insisted on getting her used to chores early on::
     
    Geleth pondered this for a moment, tilting her head as she weighed the pros and cons, and eventually nodded. 
     
    Geleth: Okay. 
     
    Trovek: Thank you. Let’s get started. 
     
    The girl nodded and quickly joined Arys, who began carrying plates and bowls into the kitchen, where they would be disinfected and cleaned. Arys had, every now and then, remarked to Lukin that simply recycling used cutlery and dishes were a lot easier, but she understood why Lukin valued the handcrafted plates and bowls in particular.
     
    Due to a lack of resources, household replicators and the likes had, until recently, been rare in the Cardassian Union, and were a privilege only the upper class could afford. As such, food was cooked and ingredients purchased rather than replicated, and plates were cleaned up afterwards. 
     
    Arys still found it odd. 
     
    Geleth: Aryyyyys? ::she prolonged the last vowel of the word and let it hang between them for a moment:: Why do you sometimes not eat? 
     
    Arys glanced at the girl, once more baffled at how perceptive children were. She wasn’t sure if that was a Cardassian thing, or if she had underestimated children in general, but it wasn’t the first time Geleth pointed out when Arys did something out of the ordinary. 
     
    Trovek: Sometimes I get stressed, and then my stomach is in knots, you know?
     
    Geleth nodded. She had experienced something similar just a few days ago, when she and Ferri went to a big place to eat cake and pie. They had sat down at a table
    with a man who said he was Al-lieeen, and who had then proceeded to say something was wrong with her.
     
    Geleth had no longer wanted to eat the cake and she had cried instead, until Ferri had brought her outside, away from the stupid noise and the stupid Al-lieeen and the stupid smells. 
     
    Geleth: Why are you stressed?
     
    Trovek: I can’t really explain that, Sweetling. 
     
    Geleth: Oh. 
     
    The little girl let out a big sigh, and Arys, somewhat absentmindedly, stroked over her hair. What was causing her stress was indeed difficult to explain to fellow adults, but impossible to put in child-friendly terms. 
     
    If she were to explain it to any of her friends, it would sound like something akin to this: A few days ago, Arys had come across jewellery belonging to Geleth’s deceased mother, and she and had discovered that the material and craftsmanship matched a bracelet Aaron, Arys’ brother, had given her during their last meeting. Said meeting had taken place before the death of Geleth’s parents, and before Arys had even known of their existence. The Bajoran side of her family - Aaron, and her mother Sileah - led a sect that wasn’t so different to Terra Prime when it came to how they regarded hybrids or those of a different species than them. Unsurprisingly, it would have been a disaster for them if the existence of Geleth’s half-Cardassian father, Sileah’s son, became public knowledge. After finding the bracelet, Arys couldn’t help but fear that her mother and brother had something to do with the ‘accident’ that had killed Geleth’s parents. 
     
    Trovek: But thank you for asking. ::she smiled, and then decided it was time to change the topic:: Come on, let’s get you bed-ready and read a story, okay? 
     
    Geleth nodded excitedly, though the way she eyed Arys indicated that she hadn’t simply forgotten about their conversation. 
     
    An hour or two later, Geleth was sound asleep. Arys had read her a goodnight story about a Lion and a Mouse becoming best friends, provided the promised chocolate milk, said goodnight to Gul Naz, and eventually dimmed the lights. 
     
    Arys too was tired, but she was well aware that she wouldn’t be able to close her eyes if she went to bed this early - or later, really, it didn’t matter. Sleep was unlikely to come unless Arys helped it along. 
     
    There was a clear advantage of being friends with several doctors, and one of them was that a hypospray with a mild sedative - often used as a sleeping aid - wasn’t difficult to come by. Arys usually avoided such medication, but perhaps she would finally be able to let her mind rest. The telltale hiss indicated that the sedative was administered successfully, and Arys realized two things - one, she was in fact getting tired, and two, she should probably have gone to bed first. The sofa she was sitting on suddenly looked a lot more comfortable than the prospect of getting up. 
     
    Trovek: Computer, lights. 
     
    The lights dimmed to a comfortable level and Arys lay down, using one of Geleth’s plushies as a pillow. Then she closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of her body and mind finally relaxing. 
     
    Unfortunately, that state of relaxation didn’t last long. 
     
    Arys was pretty sure that she was dreaming as she suddenly found herself back on the Narendra - at least Arys’ brain had decided that’s where she was. A sterile stank wafted through the corridor, a narrow hallway with high white walls to either side of it. Grey light poured in through blind windows, and her ears picked up the echo of a long finished conversation. Usually, Arys would be in sickbay. But as the door by the end of the corridor hissed open, the Doctor found herself in the brig instead. 
     
    Vulcan: You are just on time. 
     
    The somewhat familiar-looking Vulcan regarded her without any visible emotion and inclined his head. Arys remembered him - not his name, but how he had said they had done all they could. That was back during her first mission on the USS Rahuba, where that chatty Bajoran girl had been alive the one moment, and dead the next. 
     
    Was that where she was? 
     
    Trovek: On time for what? 
     
    Vulcan: On time for the show. 
     
    He motioned towards one of the cells, which housed a single individual. A man, human, in his mid-thirties, with blonde hair and in some kind of uniform. His features were handsome, and he smiled a boyish smile as he waved at her. 
     
    Arys stepped closer, regarding him. The uniform wasn’t Starfleet issue, but she had seen them on the crew of the SS Belladonna, the passenger liner with the tricobalt device. 
     
    Trovek: Lowell? 
     
    The man’s smile faded and he shook his head, causing the skin of his face to shift from one side to the other, as if hanging loosely on the bone that shaped his facial structure. 
     
    Trovek: Kent. 
     
    Adon Kent had been a member of Terra Prime, even if reluctantly so. He had switched sides and helped Ops’ crew in the end, but that didn’t change the fact that he had killed Engineer Lowell, and fed him into a recycler. Arys tried not to think about that when she advocated for Kent to be given a second chance, rather than facing life in a detainment facility.
    He had followed Terra Prime, yes, but it was… different. She couldn’t explain why. 
     
    The man gave a single nod, reaching up to his face. He began pulling and prodding at the skin of his cheek, stretching it a good few inches before letting go. 
     
    Kent: Doesn’t quite fit me, does it? Wearing a dead man’s face. But I can’t take it off. 
     
    Trovek: Why not? 
     
    Her voice came as a whisper, and the words she uttered weren’t ones she consciously decided to speak. Instead, it felt like she was spectating through someone else’s eyes, aware that she was dreaming, but unable to wake up. 
     
    Kent: There’s nothing underneath. If I do, I won’t be… anyone. 
     
    The last word sent a shiver down her spine. She wanted to reply. She wanted to tell him that he had a future, that Terra Prime hadn’t managed to take that away from him, but no sound escaped her lips. She stood in horror as she watched Kent trying to keep his features in place while the skin seemed to melt off his skull. 
     
    Arys wanted to help. She wanted to get to him, comfort him despite what he had done, banging her fists against the forcefield that felt and acted more like a glass barrier. 
     
    Eventually, Kent seemed to be giving up, letting the loose skin that was once his face drop to the floor. 
     
    Kent: I think they killed me too. 
     
    He sounded surprised as he inspected his real face with his hands. The sickly skin was pulled tightly over his skull, his lips pulled back, and rotting teeth bared in a wide smile.
    He stared at Arys with milky, unblinking eyes, and ss he moved towards her, Arys froze. 
     
    He had his hands outstretched like Geleth did when she wanted to be comforted, came closer and closer, and as he stood a mere few feet away from her, Arys noticed that the forcefield was suddenly gone. 
     
    Kent: You are focused on the wrong thing, Doctor. 
     
    He smiled, turning his head downwards. Arys followed his gaze, his arms were no longer outstretched. Instead, he was holding something in his hands. The cylindrical device. A bomb. 
     
    Trovek: Kent, no! Why would you do that? 
     
    There were eight hundred people on the Narendra. Twenty-five thousand people aboard the Belladonna. Billions on Betazed. 
    And yet it was just the two of them. 
     
    Kent: For Terra Prime.
     
    Trovek: NO!
     
    Arys’ scream was drowned out by the sound of an explosion, and a bright white light that enveloped her. 
     
    Why was she here alone? Why had Taybrim and DeVeau sent her here? Why wasn’t there anyone helping her? 
     
    They should have sent someone else. 
     
    They didn’t send someone else because they wouldn’t sacrifice any of their friends. 
     
    Taybrim-style. 
     
    …..
     
    Clap clap clap…
     
    From one moment to the other, the noise died down, and the light disappeared. Arys was back in the brig, staring at the cell that had once housed Kent, and now only contained neatly stacked pieces of flesh and bone that had once been a human body. Ready to be fed into the recycler. 
     
    Vulcan: Did you enjoy it? Humans often find enjoyment in artistic displays. 
     
    Arys didn’t know what to say. She wanted to scream, throw up, and get out of what she knew to be a dream. Her body didn’t obey her. She turned around to the Vulcan, wanting to address him, but the man had disappeared. 
     
    In his stead, stood a girl. She was in her early teens, and the ridges upon her nose clearly identified her as Bajoran. Strawberry blonde hair framed a kind, round face. 
     
    oO Jeni. Oo 
     
    Arys hadn’t thought about Jeni in easily two decades. The girl had lived close by, and she and Arys had been friends back when the Trovek family had lived on Bajor. Not good friends. Not close friends. Just friends. 
     
    Trovek: You disappeared. 
     
    Arys knew that Jeni had been attending the meetings of Sileah’s sect. So had the girl’s parents. And then, one night, there had been an explosion in a nearby warehouse, and Arys hadn’t seen Jeni again. 
     
    Jeni: I followed the Prophets. 
     
    Trovek: No. You followed Sileah. 
     
    Arys’ voice was hoarse as she spoke, and she sounded utterly defeated, and a stark contrast to the softness and youth of Jeni’s. 
     
    Jeni: So does Aaron. 
     
    What was that supposed to mean? Aaron followed Sileah, yes, but it was… different. She couldn’t explain why. 
     
    Trovek: It’s different. 
     
    Jeni: Why? ::she tilted her head, her gaze inquisitive but not judgemental:: Is it because his name isn’t Kent? 
     
    Kent. The Terra Prime member who had killed for their cause. The man Arys’ tried to save, the man whose future she tried to secure.
     
    Aaron. Her brother, who had been enthralled by her mother’s promise of power and divine purpose. Who Arys had abandoned. Who Arys refused to speak to. 
     
    Trovek: I … did all I could. 
     
    A lame excuse, one to which Jeni responded with the Vulcan’s voice. 
     
    Jeni: Did you? 
     
    Arys didn’t have an answer. She couldn’t explain what it was that justified her helping a stranger and abandoning her own bother. The silence between her and Jeni settled, expanded, and drowned her thoughts, her reasons, her excuses, allowing her to transition into a dreamless rest. 
     
    **************
    Lt. Trovek Arys
    Chief Medical Officer
    Starbase 118 Ops
    J239809TA4

     

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