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PNPC 2nd Lt Toran Sevo: Survival of the fittest


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(( Flashback - Stardate 237510.14, AR-558 (Home Universe) ))


Colonel Mason: =/\= Come on, get to the shuttles! We. Are. Leaving! =/\=


:: Purple bolts of energy raced passed Toran’s face. He returned the gesture with blasts from his own phaser rifle as he backran to the evacuation shuttle. Four months. He had been assigned to this rock for four long months, defending it from constant and relentless Dominion attacks. There had been too many occasions to count where he nearly met the Gods. He was one of the many replacements aboard the U.S.S. Veracruz Captain Sisko ordered to replace the worn and beaten garrison that had been defending it. And all for a damn communications array. ::


:: He hoped the engineers got what they wanted, because they were out of time. Word had come down that the Dominion had allied with the Breen and were deploying a devastating new weapon that disabled nearly every ship they came across. What seemed like hope for the war had suddenly turned to a very real possibility of defeat. The Dominion had retaken the Chin’toka system, within which AR-558 was located. Now the garrison was scrambling to get off the asteroid and out of the system before the Dominion fleet approached the asteroid belt, but the existing Dominion garrison, emboldened by their space fleet’s victory, was making the retreat extremely difficult, and costly. ::


Toran Sevo: =/\= All surviving engineers aboard and accounted for, sir! Got a few injured troops, but that’s it! =/\=


Colonel Mason: =/\= Alright, time to go! Get your butt over here, Lieutenant! =/\=


:: As Toran made the final stretch to the shuttle’s ramp, a massive Jem’Hadar came up from Toran’s blind spot, stabbing him in the thigh with a combat knife. Adrenaline surging through his blood, Toran ignored the pain, twirling on the heel of his boot to face his adversary. He brought out his own knife, cut the Jem’Hadar’s White tube, slashed both his carotid arteries, and stabbed him in the side of his torso, right in the primary heart. It was a vicious technique Toran had used too many times; now it was practically muscle memory. And it once again saved his life. ::


Toran Sevo: :: Spitting on the bleeding corpse. :: To hell with you.


:: Before leaving, however, Toran bent down, reached into the Jem’Hadar’s tunic, and yanked out his White vial. Another trophy. That made...twenty now? He lost count. With every Jem’Hadar Toran felled in personal combat, he took their White vials as trophies. The Klingons started it, but he, along with many other Federation soldiers, had taken to it with vigor. It was a gruesome and barbaric practice. To hell with egalitarianism; this was plain survival. ::


:: He quickly looked at the nearly empty vial in his palm, grasped his hand closed, and ran as best he could with a bleeding leg to the evac shuttle.  :



Second Lieutenant Toran Sevo

Starfleet Marine



simmed by



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


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