Jump to content
  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    • No registered users viewing this page.

Lieutenant Etan Iljor - The Widening Gyre

Recommended Posts

One of the real joys of 118 is watching a small idea grow into something big and ridiculous due to the fantastic contributions of others and @Etan Iljor hit it out of the park with this one.  Great job buddy!  


(( Harbour Docks, The Village of Jupe ))


At Kard’s instruction, Iljor wrapped his fingers around the smooth handle of the phaser. His heart beat a rhythm in his chest, thrashing against his ribcage like a mad plychyk in heat. Yet again, he found himself staring down the barrel of uncertainty thanks to a mission that humans might say had ‘gone to hell in a handbasket’ (whatever the heck that meant). The frigid air stung his cold, cosmetically altered blue skin and made his eyes water and with his free hand, he wiped the saline tears that had begun to leak out.


Iljor watched as Kard peered around the shipping container the two were using for cover. For what seemed like an eternity, the Trill remained still as the creaking footsteps grew ever closer. Holding his breath, Iljor felt a thrill of fear travel from the base of his spine to the nape of his neck. Then, with surprising dexterity and grace, Kard lept from behind the crate. The muffled sounds of a struggle only lasted for two seconds before a large form dropped to the wooden slats of the dock. Iljor jumped in surprise, almost dropping the phaser in the process. It was only his lightning fast reflexes that prevented him from losing it at the last second.


Kard had raised his fist and was barely an inch from the face of the form of the Demesian when he stopped. Even in the murk of grey fog, Iljor recognised the look of surprise on the man’s visage.


Niac: Fungus?! ::Karrod hissed in surprise.:: What the hell are you doing here?


Gawping at the rotund form of the tavernmaster, Iljor’s thoughts matched what Kard had hissed. Had it not been the very same man that had warned him that getting lost in the fog was as fate worse than death? What was so important to Fingus that he would risk such a fate?


Lakar: Flying Embers Kard! ::He huffed a little.:: I nearly messed my trousers.


For the first time, Fingus seemed to recognise that Iljor was there. Without hesitation, the scientist placed his hand holding the phaser behind his back to shield the weapon from the Demesian. The man shot him a quizzical look before he addressed Kard once again.


Lakar: I expect I'm bloody well lost in this fog... I think... I think I've bumbled my fool self onto Thrike's wharf ::He narrowed his eyes.:: Wait, why in the fading sun are you here?


The dock had suddenly fallen very quiet and Iljor could no longer hear the calls and barks of orders. Kard looked about once again before looking back at Iljor and Fingus.


Niac:  Shh, keep your voice down man...we're...uh...we've got an excellent reason to be here...which...Il was just about to explain...very quietly.


A note of annoyance crept into the tenor of Iljor’s thoughts and he glared waspishly at Kard. If there was one thing that Iljor was not particularly good at- it was making up an excuse on the spot. His parents had taught him the value of telling the truth.


Etan: oO How ironic… Oo ::he thought to himself, bitterly.:: ::he shifted.:: We were-


Niac:  Look this is just a misund...


It was at that precise moment that Iljor felt something grab on to the collar of his oiled leather coat and hoist him upwards. In his surprise, he let go of the phaser as he flailed for purchase. The next thing he knew, he felt the ice cold touch of something sharp and metallic at his throat. He didn’t need to be an expert to know that they had been discovered and that somebody was currently holding a knife to him.


Thrike: ....I warned you there were colder things in this world than the frost, yokel.


Before them loomed the imposing form of Sydonia Thrike. Just as she had at their last encounter, the woman radiated aggression and power. Flanking her were half a dozen of her crew, all of whom looked impossibly menacing. One, Iljor noted with no small amount of trepidation, was missing an eye and at least half of his nose. 


He gulped.


Lakar: Cap'n Thrike, this is... ::He laughed nervously.:: We got turned around in this fog... If you'll just point us towards the way out…


Iljor looked down surreptitiously to see the phaser he had dropped lying to the right of his foot. Neither Thrike or her lackeys had noticed it- for the moment.  The tenants of the Prime Directive thundered through his thoughts and he knew that he needed to prevent the Demesians from acquiring it.


Slowly – very slowly – he nudged his foot towards the weapon.


Niac: Uh…parlay?


Thrike: Response.


Iljor felt his boot touch the side of the phaser and he slowly moved it towards the edge of the dock less than two inches from their position. After an agonising second that stretched on forever, he felt the weapon fall off the side of the dock and land in the water with a gentle sploosh. He knew that he had just deprived Kard, Fingus  and himself of a tactical advantage- but the risk of Thrike discovering the device was simply too great.


They would simply have to find an alternate way out of the mess they had gotten themselves into.


Lakar: Come on Captain, we didn't see anything, ::He gestured wildly.:: Nobody can see anything. Just... let us be on our way.


Etan: We mean you no trouble. ::he said, hopefully.:: It is as Fingus here, says. We simply got lost in this infernal fog. Won’t you let us return to our homes and I promise that we will speak of this to nobody.


Given how Thrike had treated him and Kard previously and her overall demeanour, Iljor knew that his entreaty was likely to fall on deaf ears.


Thrike: Response.


Lakar / Niac: Response.


Three of the woman’s lackeys stepped forward brandishing what appeared to be hessian sacks. Instinctively, Iljor began to struggle, writhing in the tight grip of the goon with the knife to his neck. It was no good, for moments later, the man with one eye and half a nose placed the bag over his head. Then Iljor felt a sharp pain and the world around him dissolved into black.


Before oblivion claimed him, Iljor realised that his best hope of survival lay in the hands of Tovir and Teeny- if she could be trusted.


Etan: oO We’re scr-Oo


And with that, the darkness took him.


(( Time Skip ))

(( An Indeterminate Amount Of Time Later ))

(( Undisclosed Location - Demes II ))


Sensation and consciousness returned to Iljor suddenly and without warning. Ice cold needles stung his face and he felt wetness envelop without warning. He jerked upwards, opening his eyes and gasping loudly, greedily gulping at the frigid air. Something, however, rooted him in his place. His looked around wildly, his now wet hair flinging droplets of arctic water all around like some great shaggy dog. He tried to stand again, but felt resistance and he realised that he was tied to something. Looking down he saw that he had been slumped in a chair and that his legs were tied to the two front legs and his hands to the backrest. The rope binding him to the seat was tight and extremely uncomfortable.


He struggled for several seconds against the restraint but realised it would do him little good. Instead, he turned his attention to his new environ, eyes darting about and his senses  taking in everything that he could. Dimly lit craggy rock met his eyes at every turn and he soon realised that he was in a cave. Shadows danced around the grey walls from the two torches on either side of the round space.  Judging from what he knew of the situation on the Northern Peninsula, he reasoned that he was somewhere in the warren of caves that dotted the coast along the Northern Sea. The reports from both Starfleet Intelligence and the Federation Anthropological Council had suggested that the smuggling operation rife in the area around Jupe had been using them as a base of operations to avoid the prying eyes of the local constabulary.


Across from him sat the unconscious forms of Kard and Fingus. To his righ,  at almost ninety degrees, a guard stood watch over the now-prisoners, her back to him. The torchlight glinted off the serrated blade at her hip.


Guard: It will do ye nae good to struggle. ::she growled, not turning around. Iljor thought that he could detect a note of humour in the woman’s voice.:: There’s no finer knotter in the Northern Peninsula than Clhem. ::she added with an air of affected nonchalance.::


Etan: Release us! ::he demanded, a surge of anger coursing through him like a fire.:: We have done naught wrong but been in the wrong place!


The guard turned suddenly and strode across the cave and struck him with the back of her palm. Iljor’s head snapped to the left and he felt the sting of her strike stabbing at his cheek and made him wince. He looked back and up at her, eyes defiant. The woman unsheathed her dagger and placed it’s flat top side against the skin of his chin.


Guard: One more word such as that out of ye and I’ll cut your tongue out and feast upon it for dinner.


When Iljor said nothing, she released the dagger from his chin, glared menacingly at him and then strode back to the entrance of the tunnel beyond the chamber. A groan from across the otherside of the room garnered Iljor’s attention and he looked in time to see Fingus and Kard stirring from their enforced slumber.


Etan: Fingus! ::he hissed.:: Kard!


Lakar / Niac: Response.


Etan: Are you both okay?


It was a stupid question. None of them were okay. The three were bound and captive kosst-knew how far from Jupe and at the mercy of Captain Thrike and her merry band of smugglers. The only thing going for them was that Tovir and Teeny were still uncaptured- but who knew how long that would last.


Lakar / Niac: Response.


Etan: I think we are  in the caves near the village. ::he looked around.:: Never did I think  I would miss our house. ::he added, sardonically, giving Kard a humourless grin.::


Lakar / Niac: Response.


Etan: I have no idea. ::he shrugged as best as he could.:: Our jailer will not tell me anything. ::he jerked towards the guard who was studiously ignoring the captive trio.::


Lakar / Niac: Response.





Lieutenant Etan Iljor

Chief Science Officer

USS Excalibur

NCC - 41903 - A


Reply all
Reply to author
  • Like 2
Link to comment

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.

Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use.