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Lt JG Yael - Be the Criminal. FEEL the Criminal.

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I just adore really good character development / character mindset posts and this one is masterful at digging into the psyche of the character!


((Bridge – USS Rahuba))


Yael:  … I think Utopia Colony was a test run for genocide.


The revulsion in his tone and expression was likely less restrained than it could have been.  But… it was vital they understood his train of thought.  By the expressions crossing their faces… or in the case of Commander Dal, the angle change to his antennae… they understood the gravity of the statement.


Dal: A dark and horrific possibility.


DeVeau: With that type of outlook, I'd say it’s stronger than just possibility.


Yael: Believe me. I hope I’m wrong.


The bridge absorbed the idea for a moment before Alora continued.


DeVeau: Ash, Sheila, let’s get those subdermal transporter nodes. We also need to change. I doubt we’ll be welcomed by anyone if we are walking around in our uniforms. ::She turned to Sheila.:: I’m going to ask you to get rid of all the pink. It’ll attract too much attention.


Ash caught Sheila’s stare ata Alora, but there was understanding beneath the dislike for the order.  It was understandable.  Sheila *did* stand out in a room, with her colored hair and style.  And she would stand out enough without them, still with her walking aids.  His amethyst eyes flicked to Alora and he knew what was coming.


DeVeau: Might not be a bad idea for you too, Ash. Those are easy, quick changes at least. Meet me in shuttle bay one.


Bailey: Yes, Sir. If it’s easy to do once I can just re-dye it again when we’re done. 


Yael:  ::nodding in acceptance:: Aye, ma’am.


DeVeau: By your leave.


The team made to leave the bridge, with Commander Dal’s blessing on their heels.


Dal: May the stars be at your back, Commander. Be safe. We will cover your approach.


((Miranda VII Station - Promenade))


The trio beamed down, looking quite appropriate for their task and to adhere to their orders.  Alora was adorned in a white shirt, tanned colors, boots.  Sheila looked a little sharper in her adapted wardrobe, but was very much in tune with the station.  Both of them had the benefit of having been to Miranda before… this was where Yael lacked, in terms of experience.


He’d stressed shortly over his appearance prior to beaming down, and had used the replicator in haste on the shuttle prior to arriving.  He’d not had time to dye his hair… it was purple, but not *bright* purple.  Would a hood do?  There would be plenty of hooded figures on a station with Miranda’s reputation, right?  So he chose that as a sensible and quick adaptation to his unique hair.  In a very muted red and purposefully distressed fashion, he chose a knee length sleeveless hooded shirt with studded ties at the front, lashing it round his midsection snuggly before opening low on his chest and flaring slightly past his hips.  The hood had a pointed crook at the forehead, draping down nearly to his eyes but allowing him vision while obscuring the ridges round his eyes and his forehead.


What about the chin and jaw?  They were still very Not Human and pretty obvious with the hood.  Could he get away with a mask without drawing attention?  What about his *eyes?*  No way they passed for Human… jewel toned amethyst was definitely not a Human trait.

Typically he loved his unique features.  He didn’t say it out loud for not wanting to sound vain, but he *liked* standing out just a little.  It made socializing so much easier if people were drawn to him, feeling he was approachable.  It also didn’t hurt his professional pursuits either.  But today he cursed his ridges.  He’d never once worn contacts… could he replicate a pair?  Didn’t you need a doctor to fit them properly?  Sheila was busy after already fitting them with sub-dermal transporter nodes!  Could he even figure them out in the short time they had available to prep?  Glasses.  Definitely glasses.  And a face mask.


It was too much.  He couldn’t do a hood, tinted glasses, AND a mask.


*Internal Panic Mode #1 Activated*


Thirty seconds later he made the mental choice.  Go with understated mystery, and just… rock it, he guessed.


So to compliment the distressed hooded trench-style shirt, he replicated both a simple black face mask and a sleek but understated red-black tinted pair of glasses.  They weren’t totally opaque, but they obscured the color of his eyes perfectly.  The glasses also created a psychological barrier between him and anyone who might try to identify him.


Next, a slim black long sleeve shirt beneath the sleeveless hooded shirt.  Trim but sport style black pants with no detailing.  A simple pair of matt black boots, with obligatory scuffing.  A pair of worn leather fingerless gloves, to cover his braces.


He had his ensemble.



This was awful.  This was never going to work.  He was overdoing it.  Or was he not doing it *enough* to pull it off?  Did he LOOK like he was trying to hide something?  He *felt* like he looked like he was trying to hide something.  Would this get them all caught immediately?  Was he dooming his crew from the offset?!


*Internal Panic Mode #2 Activated*


STOP.  Stop it.  PIck something and rock it.  Nobody on a criminal infested station is going to question wanting to keep ones identity obscured.  He just had to exude a “criminal” aura and *confidence,* and it would be fine.


He could be a criminal.  He’d counseled enough of them, knew the psychology of criminality, had associated with plenty in his past.  He could draw on that.


Be the criminal.  FEEL the criminal.




Or maybe, as he saw the lack of confidence on his own face as he drew the glasses on and pulled the hood over his hair… he would just have to fake it till he made it.  Drawing the simple black mask up helped obscure his failure of adequacy.


This was fine.  Nothing about him stood out in a fancy or Fleet way.  His clothing choices were worn, easy fit, and made him look lean but tough in a slinky way.


Feel the slinky toughness.  BE THE SLINKY TOUGHNESS.




He groaned loudly as he resigned himself to at least not getting them all killed.  The clothes mattered less than the attitude.  And if there was anything he excelled at, it was being a social chameleon.  Walk like you owned your space, don’t make eye contact, and when he would speak it should be short and direct, no fluff, no courtesy.


He was still trying to wrap his mind around his character when the light of the transporter deposited them in a quiet corner in an alley on Miranda station.


As they turned, Sheila and Ash flanking Alora as they let her take the clear lead, the abundance of *Humans* definitely stood out to the Denobulan hybrid.  This place would normally be crawling with all types, but though they knew the population was mostly Human, it was still *odd.*


They stuck to the shadows smartly until Alora spoke to them in a quiet area, passing them an information padd with a map and a list of names and aliases.


DeVeau: Those are some people that are known to frequent Miranda VII.  It’s not much of a lead, but it’s better than nothing. 


Bailey: Perhaps, since they have been known to frequent the station, they will be able to tell us more about what has been going on around here. Point out some higher ups that might be worth talking to.  


Yael:  ::trying to memorize as much of the data on the fly as possible::  Do we have a first target in mind?  Or will any of them do to start?


DeVeau: People like this have connections.  These people frequent Miranda VII, and have been listed as having been seen here within the last twenty four hours. 


Bailey: If they have connections we can use that to our advantage, hopefully. Besides Terra Prime, what other organizations are around here?




Lieutenant JG Ashley Yael


Starbase 118 Ops



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