Sedrin Belasi Posted February 9, 2015 Posted February 9, 2015 ((Maximum Security Holding – Brig – Starbase 118)) ::With the argon pumped from his system, Ry’Van Alstred was ungraciously dumped in a high security holding cell. Starfleet had taken all they needed to take. They stripped him of his signal enhancer vest, taken complete medical scans as well as blood samples – which quickly affirmed that he was not, in fact, Arkarian as his identification card and merchant’s permit indicated. Problematically the ID card and merchant’s permit were quite valid and had been entered some seven years ago. That begged the question: where was the real Ry’van Alstred, and who was this man? Considering his nasty attacks on the crew of StarBase 118, the answer to the first question looked pretty bleak. The blood sample quickly turned up a discouraging truth. Whoever this was, they were Romulan. However Romulans were not much in the habit of sharing their DNA records with the Federation, and whoever this man was he was not in any Federation databases or anything shared from the Romulan Star Empire. Ending up in one big ‘John Doe’ or more precisely ‘Not-Ry’van-Alstred-Doe’ For the guards stationed outside his holding cell, he was an uninteresting prisoner to watch. They were pretty sure he was awake, or at least had been awake for a portion of the time. And yet he hadn’t moved from the spot where he was dumped on a cot some hours ago. He seemed to be glaring at the wall with an unhidden fury and loathing towards anything that wasn’t part of his tiny worldview. Which was, in fact, quite true. Alstred had little regard for anything outside the culture he decided to so fiercely defend. He hadn’t always been that way, but he was quite literally a man with nothing left to lose save his own life. And considering he had buried his entire family and watch the colony he lived in fall to ruin, death was sounding more like a pleasant reunion with lost loved ones rather than an event to fear. And yet, somewhere in his mind, a warped patriotism mingled with the ingrained vicious emotions of his people and his heart embraced a dark desire to bring down as many Federation citizens as he possibly could before he took that blissful release. So when he opened his eyes to see the harsh sterile glare of a Federation security bulkhead, he felt a deeply depressing fog come over him. If he survived, they had survived, too. So no blissful release and his mission had not been as fruitful as he had hoped. Still, he wouldn’t give them the pleasure of seeing him grovel. In fact he was more than content to sit and stare at the wall, fading in and out of the heady haze of aching semi-consciousness, taking tiny nuggets of bitter enjoyment from listening to the security guards wonder if he was asleep or not. Alive or not. Listening or not. He was already concocting a grand lie to tell the Federation if they questioned him. He didn’t like being a rat in a cage, but if he was pressed, he would tell them a tale that would make their heads spin. Alstred knew he was but one small part of a much bigger scheme, one that would move against the Federation again. And again. And again. He didn’t fear death or incarceration. He had already lived through hell. Now he just had to suffer through indignity. It was a small price to pay to be able to watch the Federation crumble from the inside. Ry’van Alstred closed his eyes and once again fell back into a listless sleep.:: ~*~ MSNPC Ry’van Alstred (Rhansu Lloran)Arkarian Merchant (Romulan Terrorist)Simmed by: Sal Taybrim
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