round 3 Lieutenant Tatash: Cold Blooded

[Theo Whittaker]

*((Bridge - USS Albion))*

::The last few minutes had been probably the most terrifying of the Gorns
career. The Albion, scarred and battered suddenly face to face with a
pristeen, technologically advanced Warbird and it's subsequent weapons lock
had almost turned his scales white.

A warning probably, not to chase and not to poke them… just let them drift
away. If they had wanted the Albion shattered then there was not a [...]ed
thing any of them could have done about it. A single volley to the hull and
that would have been the end of that. But with their usual Romulan unknown
motivations they disappeared, warping away out of the Albions primitive net
after stealing the traitor and into the unknown as soon as they could get
their cloak back online.

What would come of the Captain who had betrayed Starfleet? Either way, if
the Romulans knew what he was planning to do the likelihood of him every
coming back alive was negligible at best. Interrogation and execution was
likely to be the order of the day, a wanton criminal with the knowledge of
an experienced Starfleet captain now a plaything for interrogators with a
reputation for getting results. His anger and vengeance was now going to do
nothing to save him, Tatash could only hope he chose the honorable way out,
at the end of his belt from a prison cell bar or the barrel of a disruptor
trying to escape.

Was it a deserved punishment? If the Albion had hauled him back, would his
punishment be fitting? If he was a Gorn Captain, his betrayal would have
already resulted in him (not to mention his crew) executed and tossed out
of the airlock. Starfleet would probably assign him to a penal colony,
hoping to rehabilitate rather than condemn, to softly pick apart the
reasons for his turn coating before shipping him off to some laughable
'penal colony'.

That, in the eyes of Tatash, was not justice for the crewmen and women in
Engineering who had been killed or the thousands of civilians so painfully
close to a terrible death.

So he felt a grim satisfaction, a macabre sense of completion at least
residing in his mind. Let the Romulans have him, let them pick him apart
like the birds of prey they idolize, vultures swarming a dead husk of a
former man of respect. Anything else would have been too easy a price for a
traitor to pay.::

*Taybrim*: Commander Falcon, bring us within transporter range of the
Valdis colony so we can beam down the medicine, and then plot a course back
to the Tribal.

::He snapped back into the room as the Commander spoke, eyes flicking over
to the helm::

*Falcon*: ?

*Taybrim*: It will be a short drop off. We're not staying for dinner.
::He shook his head at the planet hanging on the viewscreen. He had enough
of Romulans for this day as well.::

*Falcon*: ?

*Taybrim*: Mr. Vondaryan, contact Starfleet intel - let them know what you
got from the Stormcrow and give them a heads up on what happened with Haz
Arrhimen. I have a feeling they will be very interested to hear your
report.

::That was an understatement, if anything he could just picture a sea of
blackshirts suddenly flailing their arms at this screw up. Justice aside,
he knew a lot, enough to cause a storm of changing access codes and any
tactical plans he had access too::

*Vondaryan*: ?

::The Commanders eyes rested on him now, forcing himself to stand more
upright as his back strained in protest. Despite Malcolm's wizardry, he was
still wounded. Rest, a few more visits to sickbay to be patched up properly
rather then the battlefield kit on his back were needed::

*Taybrim*: Do we have enough power to tow the Tribal?

*Tatash*: Not yet, but I'm pretty sure the best engineer in the fleet can
fix that?

::He managed a strained smile to Theo, doing his best to hide the pain on
his face. Out of anyone, the person he'd last like to see him suffering was
his closest friend::

*Whittaker*: ?

*Taybrim*: If we don't there are other ships on patrol. They're outside
the neutral zone, so technically we can hang out there for as long as we
like.

::He tapped a claw on his map suite, dragging it back to where the Tribal
was located and nodding approvingly at the roundal of a friendly ship
heading into the area::

*Tatash*: if we time it right we have a Galaxy class passing through that
area as well, they might be able to escort us back.

*Whittaker*: ?

*Taybrim*: ::He nodded, satisfied with that answer:: Ok, let's get medicine
delivered, go rescue our friends and go home. I want everyone to get some
rest on the way back.

*Tatash*: Yes Sir.

::Rest... it had been barely a few hours for the whole drama to play out,
but he was exhausted. He'd not tried to lay down or even sit after the
explosion tore him to ribbons, but despite the pain it was going to cause,
he could think of nothing he wanted more::

*Bridge (any*): ?

~~



Lt Tatash

Tactical Officer

SB118 Ops

C239108T10