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JP: Trovek and Boucher(Moray) - A Fractured Soul

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(( OOC - We’ve done our best to be mindful of our descriptions and keeping to the PG-13 guideline, but the scene is intrinsically violent. Please be good to yourself, and if this is troubling to you, simply skip Part One!))

((ISS Koh'la'Shamuu))

Activating the laser scalpel held to her throat was all he had to do - and after witnessing what he had done to the Ensign who had tried to come to her aid, Arys didn’t doubt for one moment that Boucher would kill her.
To say that she had a plan wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t entirely correct either. Part of her was still hoping for rescue, but knowing the situation she was in, another part of her had accepted that it would be unlikely. And that allowed a certain freedom. 

She was still terrified, but forced herself to concentrate on what she could do right now. And, for the moment, all she could do was to get LeVesque out of here and have him help Foster and Zumagi to evacuate.
Perhaps she had wanted to give them enough time to do that as she gave the computer to seal the doors to the cockpit, locking herself and Boucher inside, and wedging away from him a split second before he activated the scalpel.

Yavir glared at the woman. She had tipped from annoyingly necessary to a genuine obstacle. He no longer needed her, and now she had the gall to stand in his way. He cast about, looking for a weapon with more range than a laser scalpel. Finding nothing, he tightened his grip on the medical implement and waited to see what her next move would be.

Boucher: ::flinging away the fistful of hair:: What do you think is going to happen here?

Trovek: I don’t know.

It was a sober and genuine response.  She had managed to bring the slightest bit of distance between herself and Boucher, but with the doors sealed, there was no escape.

Trovek: I know what will not happen.

Boucher: Oh?

Trovek: You will not be able to pilot the ship. You will not be able to escape. 

Boucher: Do you really think I’d have you bring me here if I was incapable of handling a ship? Federation arrogance that you know best.

Trovek: LeVesque locked in a course and you have no way to change that.

She was guessing. She hoped that she was guessing right. 

Boucher: No, I’ll bypass your little override, shut off life support to the rest of the ship, purging it of all the filth hiding in the corners, then I’ll continue on my way. YOU are the only obstacle - one I plan to eliminate. Now.

He lunged at her, scalpel hand leading the charge like a desperate fencing thrust. If he could end this quickly, the damage she’d done to his timeline could still be mitigated. Arys raised her arms in front of her face and upper body in a defensive gesture, and the surgical device sliced through the flesh of her forearm, leaving no blood but a gaping cut. The muscle hadn’t been completely severed, but the scalpel had performed its task admirably.

Yavir wanted to take advantage of the contact and her distraction while he was close-up. His free hand shot toward her throat, grasping and lifting her momentarily from the decking. He wasn’t strong enough to keep her suspended, but he could squeeze. He pressed the button on the scalpel again, but the tiny blue light failed to ignite.

Boucher: Damn.

He cast the now-useless device away, making a tight fist, and buried it in her midsection with a vitriol he’d never felt before. He struck out blindly, feeling his fists make contact. At one point, a jolt of pain went through his little finger at the same time he heard a crack. He wasn’t sure if the source had been his finger or a rib.

With the oxygen in her lungs slowly running out, she clawed at the hand around her throat, and when she failed to free herself from his grasp, she raked her fingernails across his face. 

Yavir felt a warm trickle down the side of his face. He was pretty sure she hadn’t gotten his eye, but the blood was running into it, and he couldn’t see clearly as a result. Annoyed, he shoved her hard against a jutting work surface. As she fell to her knees, he wiped furiously at his face, clearing his vision.

The momentary opportunity was all she needed though. He felt her entire weight launch into his stomach as she plowed into him. The air was knocked from his lungs in an unintelligible but somehow still profane outburst. He brought his fists down on her back, hammering her shoulder blades. 
Then the entire room flashed bright white, went black, and then blurred to normal in an instant as her knee connected with his groin. He lost control of his limbs, falling limply to the decking. He had to keep fighting, but his body wasn’t obeying him any more.

It was terrifying how satisfying that was, and how okay Arys was with the sudden shift into survival mode rather than conduct befitting a Starfleet Officer and someone who had dedicated themselves to being a healer. Her whole body hurt, and for the lack of having any kind of plan, she kicked him in the face as he began speaking.

Boucher: You –

What epithet he’d intended, she didn’t give him a chance to make known. Yavir felt his nose break against the toe of her boot, ending the sentence with a crunching punctuation.

Trovek: SHUT UP!

She hissed, just about managing to not accentuate the command with another kick. 

His mind was a blur of pain. The lightning emanating from between his legs, the searing pain in his face and head - they mingled with swirling emotions. He hated this half-breed woman. He hated Nyra. He loved Kat. He hated Naystrim and her sanctimonious vision. All these feelings mingled together, gnawing at him like a dog with a bone. At some point, these thoughts must have spilled from him audibly.

Boucher: Nyra …

Trovek: What?

She didn’t know who he meant, but she knew for a fact that she wasn’t Nyra. Still, it snapped her out of her fight or flight response, and for a moment, she hesitated.

Boucher: ::not hearing the question:: Nyra …

Trovek: ::coldly:: No one of that name is here. 

His mental fog was beginning to lift. Yavir remained on the floor. It still hurt too much to move, but he was at least becoming more aware of his surroundings again. What did she say? What name? Vaguely, he heard himself say Nyra’s name. But that wasn’t her name. He’d been told her real name. His brain was still hazy, and he spoke:

Boucher: Nestira Aristren.

That was a whole different story. Arys knew Nestira, even if not well. She knew that the woman had been sent to Miranda VII on an undercover mission, and that she had returned only days before they had laid siege to Terra Prime. 

The question was… how did he know her name?

Trovek: What about her?

Boucher: She hurt my sister. I have to find her.

Trovek: She isn’t here. And she wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

Because Nestira was very… gentle. Arys had a hard time imagining that she would hurt anyone - but then again, she hadn’t pictured herself hurting anyone either. Those kind of morals changed very quickly when your life was on the line. 

Boucher: Then you do know her. And I assure you - she did hurt my sister.

Arys needed a plan. Now that her chances for survival had increased, she needed an actual plan. Some way to detain Boucher, or get Sherlock and additional security here…

But he didn’t shut up and let her think, and Arys regretted instantly what she said next. 

Trovek: She was part of Terra Prime. She probably deserved it. 

It was as though the balance scales of pain had just had a black hole dropped onto one of the trays. The physical pain which held Yavir to the deck was outweighed by the resurgence and redoubling hatred toward this woman. Still, he knew he lacked the strength for another fight. A new plan began taking shape in his mind. He shifted slowly - non-threateningly - to a seated position, just a few inches closer to the shield and comms controls.

Boucher: Don’t you dare talk about my sister. You know nothing of her. She didn’t deserve what Nyra- Nestira did to her.

Trovek: ::hissing:: It’s always different when it's your own family, isn’t it? It didn’t matter to you when you murdered the hybrids of Utopia Colony. Have you ever seen your compound in action? Did you see what it did to the people there? 

She was thinking of Meryle Harris, who had watched her two hybrid children bleed out in front of her, unable to do anything about it. How ten thousand people - sisters, daughters, mothers - brothers, sons, fathers - had been killed in the most painful way imaginable. 

Boucher: Kat and I didn’t have anything to do with that.

It was only true in the letter of the statements. He’d been a pilot, enabling those who did handle the “wet work” get to and from the targeted locations. He’d acted the pirate on several occasions, stealing supplies and ships for the cause, but he’d never killed anyone … until today. Kat had certainly never killed anyone. Her job was to save human lives, and she’d done it well.

Trovek: Sure. 

He had to try …

Boucher: I need to talk with Nestira. Can you make that happen?

She had to remind herself that she was meant to de-escalate the situation. To avoid further violence and loss of life. Even when her internal voice (or external voice?) was screaming at her to bash his skull in while she still had the upper hand. 

But did she?

Did she still have the upper hand?

Something wasn’t right. 

Trovek: I.. can make that happen, yes. 

Yavir shifted his weight, inching closer to the controls panel. Speaking with Nestira would be a huge win, but he wasn’t willing to submit to capture for the sake of one conversation. He started pulling himself up, using the workstation as a ledge, and tapping a control to pull up the shield controls in the process. Still in a half crouch, he tried to look unthreatening.

Boucher: I need to stand for this.

Trovek: I-...

That was when he leapt to his feet and once more tackled her. And Arys, caught entirely off-guard with this attack, had no means to defend herself. She was slammed against the wall and lost her footing, and she was sure that Boucher would kill her. Only that he didn’t. 

Yavir had hit with the outside of his shoulder, sending her careening away from the console behind her rather than tackling her into it.

Boucher: You said you can get a message to Nestira?

Trovek: Y-yes… 

Boucher/Moray: Tell her Yavir Moray is alive. Tell her I know what she did to Kat, and she will pay for it. That’s a promise. You deliver that message, and you’re worth leaving alive.

He punched in a string of commands that opened up a secure communications link.

Moray: =/\= Moray to the Dolorem =/\=

Alvarez: =/\= Holy crap, you’re still alive!? =/\=

Moray: =/\= I won’t be for much longer if you don’t get me out of here. =/\=

Alvarez: =/\= One sec. ::beat:: yeah, I see you. =/\=

Moray: ::to Trovek:: Deliver the message.

And then he was nothing but shimmering light. Arys was alone.

END(?) for Yavir Moray

PNPC Lt. Trovek Arys

Chief Medical Officer

Starbase 118 Ops



MNPC Yavir Moray (aka Elias Boucher)

Simmed by Hiro Jones E239510KD0

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