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PNPC Lt. Trovek Arys - No Escape

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Usually when I am busy I just read rather quickly my comrades sims, if my characters aren't in the action. This last week was such an example and as I read in a few minutes the lines of the many stories they write only one got my full attention and was worth reading it with time.  A luxury I lacked this week.



((ISS Koh'la'Shamuu))

Arys had always prided herself on her ability to handle stressful situations. As Doctor, Counsellor and Starfleet Officer, she had encountered her fair share of challenges over the years. But nothing could have prepared her for the terror she felt when she found herself taken hostage by a the man whose arm she had fixed only moments prior.

She knew that her colleagues - DeVeau, Sheila, Yael - had encountered a similar situation, and she had always thought that she would be just as composed and heroic as she knew they had been. That she would use her skills and dry wit to deescalate the situation. But instead, the only thing she could think of was how scared she was, and that she needed someone to come and help her. Anyone.

Trovek: ::quietly:: This way…

Her body trembled as the man shoved her towards the direction he had indicated. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and her legs felt like they might give out at any moment. What, right now, kept her functioning was the hope that she could lead the man towards the tactical area rather than the cockpit, and that the men present there would take care of the matter.

Only a few more steps...

Covering her mouth again, the man took very slow, careful steps forward, entering the tactical area. Arys' heart sank as she realized that only a young man was present, not much older than perhaps twenty years. He had tried to introduce himself to her earlier, but she hadn't listened.

Boucher: Step away from the console with your hands up.

Thomas: ::turning:: What's that? I --

His mouth stopped moving mid-sentence when he saw the scene, and tensed. But much like Arys imagined Sherlock in a situation like this, the young man stood slowly, turning to face them directly.

Thomas: I don't know who you are, but why don't you let Dr. Trovek go, and we can figure this out?

Boucher: There's nothing to work out. Who I am doesn't matter to you, and the more you talk, the more danger she's in. Get against the wall.

The young man nodded and complied ... or so Arys thought. When he was half a meter from the wall, he launched himself toward her captor, clipping the elbow of the arm that held the scalpel. It skittered away across the floor. Before Arys could react, the stranger shoved her away from him, knocking the air out of her lungs as she was flung against the workstation and ended up on the floor.

Something hurt, but she couldn't localize the pain. Her mind didn't register it as something that mattered.

Arys: That's the adrenaline. You have to get up now. Get up!

There it was again, that voice. The voice that indicated that something was wrong with her. Still, Arys obeyed, pushing herself up, trying to find her footing. She was dizzy. Maybe she had hit her head. It didn't matter. Only getting away from here mattered.

One step. Then another. Towards the door.

Arys: Hurry!

Suddenly, something wrapped itself around her legs, once more bringing her tumbling down to the floor. Arys landed painfully on an already injured arm, and barely managed to scream before her attacker climbed up her body, placed a knee in the middle of her back, pinning her down while he reached for the scalpel and once more pressed it against her throat.

It was only now that she realized the young man was lying motionless, his face bruised and ruined, with his lips slowly turning blue.

And that changed everything.

She had seen people die before. She had patients who didn't make it, and only a year ago she had sat by her grandfather's bedside when he passed away. But this was different. This was senseless, cruel, unfair.

Arys had never before felt so helpless. And didn't even remember his name.

He had tried to help her. She had led the attacker here, and instead of complying with the man's instruction, he had tried to rescue her.

And she didn't even remember his name.

Tears began running down her cheeks as she tried in vain to extend a hand towards the other officer, only for her captor to tighten his grip around her.

Trovek: I have to-...

Boucher: Him? Yes, I expect he's dead now. Or at least he will be as soon as the air in his lungs runs out.

She let out a whimper, barely hearing what the attacker said next.

Boucher: But now you know I'm serious. Get up.

He "helped" her get to her feet by pulling on her hair, something Arys barely felt. Once standing again, there was only a split second of time before he yanked back, tilting her head back so she was staring almost directly at the ceiling. Scalpel again at her throat, he reiterated the instructions he'd given her before.

Boucher: You will take me to the helm of this ship - the cockpit or bridge or whatever a vessel this size needs - and you will do so without any further detours, or I will kill you next. Clear?

Trovek: Yes...

Boucher: Good girl. Now move.

Arys complied, her mind racing with fear and desperation, but something was different than before.

Arys: It's because you know.

oO Know what? Oo, Arys thought, not even realising that she was engaging in a conversation with her hallucination. But no answer came, and instead, they arrived at the door leading towards the cockpit before she could think of a new plan. The door slid open, revealing an Ensign, who turned around to them, his eyes widening as he beheld the scene in front of him.

Boucher: response

LeVesque: I-... :

He looked at Arys with fear in his eyes, unable to comprehend what was happening.

LeVesque. Arys remembered his name. She saw his hands shaking, moving towards his phaser, and...

Trovek: Ensign LeVesque. Lock in autopilot and evacuate. No one else needs to get hurt.

She heard herself speak, but was as surprised by her words as the Ensign was. Her voice was trembling and had retained nothing of her usual composure, but her orders were clear.

Boucher: response

Overriding the ejection of the escape pods would be near impossible, even once the attacker got control of the ship. LeVesque obliged, moving veeeery slowly as he cleared the area. The door slid shut behind him.

Boucher: response

It was the best chance she could give the others. Because that voice was right. She did know. She knew that she was not getting out if this.

Trovek: Computer, seal doors.

And now, neither was he.

Boucher: response


PNPC Lt. Trovek Arys
Chief Medical Officer
Starbase 118 Ops

“Paths are made by walking”
-- Franz Kafka


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