Star Trek: Theurgy

CHAPTER 02: THE VERSANT [DAY 03 | 2100 hrs.]

(https://orig00.deviantart.net/1681/f/2018/079/1/c/chapter_02_image_by_auctor_lucan-dc6gvrv.png)


In the wake of the battle, the Savi applied themselves fully to the repair of their damaged Precept ship. Yet for areas unaffected, and in regard to ongoing science projects, the Code dictated that that the research must always continue.

Leading the group of young Antes through the winding corridors of the Main Research Hull, Aergyn gestured towards the doors on her left side. She spoke in her light, contralto voice, and glanced towards the students with her black eyes. "<While this whole level is for xenological projects, we are now passing the Correctional Labs. These were not compromised in the battle with the Federation ship, and ordinary procedures have already been initiated with the new specimens.>"

"<Can we see them, Decatria Aergyn?>" asked one male Ante in the back of the group, at least having the wits to refer to her by her title when interrupting her. Still, he had no grasp on what the Code said about proper conduct for a student.

"<Yes, but the Code forbids us to directly interfere with the process, so we can only watch,>" she said and raised her hand. Her suit's signature interacted with the phosphor membranes of the bulkhead, and with her Decatria authorisation, it turned opaque. "This is Septenary Correctional Lab, where specimens collected from combatant smallcrafts have been transferred. The process should begin soon."

[ Septenary Correctional Lab | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ]
Attn: @Hastata-Nerada (Khorin) @Masorin (Isley) @SummerDawn (K'Ren) @Auctor Lucan (Devyrie Okhala)

Interior Image: [Show/Hide]Inside the lab, the Ante xenobiologist barely noticed the group of students outside when he moved into the area between the four Resequence Pods. He took a deep breath, and tapped the data tablet in his hand. He did not only raise the pods into an upright position, the mechanical sound of the pod rigs suddenly filling the silence of the lab. He also activated the translator so that the specimens in the pods could understand what he said. With great disinterest towards their plight, stripped and restrained as they were inside the biogel pods, with tubing down their throats for nutrition and breathing, he didn't even bother to look into their eyes. They also had a catheter unit clasped around their hips and genitals, just so that they wouldn't contaminate the biogel. They had woken up a couple of minutes ago, and the xenobiologist had merely waited for their futile thrashing to subside before he presented himself. His translated words would be heard as a vibration applied to their ears and their skulls as a whole.

"My name is Cirand and I will be conducting the correctional procedure on your biology," he said, having said the same words hundreds of times before. It was mere protocol of the Code. "Currently, your deoxyribonucleic acids have mixed sets of nucleotides. In other words, you are of mixed biological origin, and in violation of the gift of the Progenitors. Therefore, you will now undergo Correction. After the procedure is done, your memory engrams will be wiped, and you will be released to propagate your chosen species at your leisure."

Cirand tapped his tablet again, and buttons lit up underneath the thumbs of all four specimens, fitted into their restraints. The biogel was clear enough for them to see the light, if they had the presence of mind to notice them. Cirand continued. "I realise I might use the term 'choice' liberally. Our Code dictates that all specimens should be presented with this humane choice. Your preferential opinion will be put on record, but unfortunately, it is the ease of Correction which will determine which species group is more ideal for your survival. If you put your thumbs on the buttons, you will hear which of your species they represent."

Outside the wall, the group of students moved on.

[ Adjacent Area | Octonary Correctional Lab ]
Attn: @steelphoenix (Deacon) @Brutus (Sarresh) @Masorin (Hi'Jak)

When the bulkhead of the next lab became transparent, the Ante xenobiologist Encegin was giving the same instructions to three other specimens, these collected from the hulls of the Federation ship and one shuttle that had been late to the battle. There had been a fourth specimen in the lab, but she had injured herself in her reaction to the Resequence Pod, thrashing too much after waking up, so she had been dissolved and flushed out with the biogel for Recycling. Since the four pods were in each corner of the lab, the other specimens had seen what had happened, and Encegin was relieved that they had mostly ceased to trash at the sight.

"To encourage adherence to the Code and in wish to keep complete records of all Corrections in our Archive, failure to make this choice - however inconsequential to the result - will automatically lead to your bodies being Recycled in order to sustain the Versant. Since efficiency is the doctrine in all our science projects, you will be given one minute to contemplate your choice, but please keep in mind that your memory engrams will eventually be wiped, and you will have no recollection of the choice by the time of your release."

There were thirty labs in that level of the Main Reseach Hull, and they had all been filled with specimens from the Theurgy starship. Encegin was about to start the timer with his tablet, when she noticed an anomaly in one of the Pods, she frowned and stepped up to it, seeing how - aside from Ash'reem and Human DNA - there were cybernetic implants in the specimen. She sighed, because the transporter operators must have neglected to notice that the specimen was impure. With cybernetics interfering with the Correction, the specimen was usually deformed in the process. Even worse, she could not Recycle the specimen with the new policy about metal slag in the biomatter.

"Specimen Nine-Zero-Six (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sarresh_Morali), you should not be here yet," she said and tapped her tablet with her large finger. "You will be cued for purification, where your metallic enhancements will be extracted. Your Correction will be postponed for the time being." Having said this, she had the specimen beamed to containment, and it vanished from out of the pod. Once that was done, there were only two specimen left in the lab.

"One minute starts now," said Encegin and tapped her tablet. "Please keep in mind that you will be Recycled if you don't register your preference."

[ Corridor | Outside the Lab ]
Attn: @patches  (R'Rori), @YasyraTrill (Laurel Okhala), @Fife (Cross) @Absinthe (Lahkesis), @Triage (Heather & Sinead) & @Zenozine (Hylota & Vinata)

Interior Image: [Show/Hide]Decatria Aergyn idly waved her hand at the bulkhead before the countdown was finished, having seen it too many times before. Some of the students stifled protests, likely wanting to see what happened next, but Aergyn was already moving across the hallway towards the next stop.

"<On this side, we have just a few of our Containment cells (https://orig00.deviantart.net/7a0d/f/2018/079/4/2/containment_cell_by_auctor_lucan-dc6gzds.png), where we store specimens that have already undergone Correction, along with those in cue for other alterations or experiments,>" she said and made the bulkhead opaque so that the students could see rows of containment cells. Inside, a new xenobiologist could be seen checking the diagnostic readings on panels next to the cells. In one of the bare cells, the impure specimen from the lab they just saw would have been deposited, but the ones in view for the students were two female specimens that had been collected from another starship 48 hours earlier. They were just waking up after their finished Correction cycle. A male could be seen too, taken from the same escape pod.

"<If memory serves me, these two female specimens were humans mixed with Romulan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Laurel_Okhala) and Caitian (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=R%27Rori) genealogy respectively before they underwent Correction. The male (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Cross) used to be both Bajoran and Vulcan." Aergyn turned to her students. "Overall, the reaction to the Correction procedure varies greatly between all specimens, but the majority respond to the sedatives they are given during the time in the pod. Usually, invasive alterations are conducted before pod resequencing, but in some cases, the process is not complete. Should that be the case, they are either Recycled or scheduled for further alterations, if the remaining alterations are not too much a waste of resources and time, of course. What is interesting about that specimen (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Laurel_Okhala) over there... is that we discovered a close match in DNA among those collected from the Theurgy. It would seem the two specimens are siblings with matching parentage.>"

Having shown the specimens in Containment, which had been given gowns to cover their raw, new bodies and fed regularly to keep them resilient against illness, Aergyn moved down the hallway, gesturing towards the area ahead of the students. She did not know when the three were due for memory removal, but since the Versant was damaged, it might be some time before they could be released.

"<In the Biolabs further down this way (https://orig00.deviantart.net/8d3d/f/2018/079/4/9/biolab_by_auctor_lucan-dc6gysz.png), we have a few unique projects starting up, since we have been presented new scientific venues to explore after this most recent forage. We managed to secure what the Federation records call a Teslysliac Duplicate (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Dr._Lahkesis_Saugn), which will undergo extensive examination. When collected, the specimen was damaged, but we were able to preserve its life for sake of the studies ahead. We were also able to collect something our Archive call an Alata (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan), which we treat cautiously for the time being, since its abilities might harm our eyes when looking directly at it without polarised protection. Oh, and there was a mere human (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sinead_O%27Riley) collected by accident as well, and while we had initially decided to just recycle her matter, we discovered a control device implanted in the specimen's brain. After this discovery, we are conducting tests to see if the human can be remote-controlled via subspace signal. Therefore, we have decided to keep her.>"

When Aergyn walked by viewpors that overlooked the spear-like deflector and sensor assembly, and she was bathed in the blue light of the Azure Nebula, she came to think about another unique project in the Biolabs. "<Ah, we are excited to have collected two Ovri siblings (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Ovri) from the Theurgy as well. So much has been lost about their species in the latest Cataclysm, but already, we have managed to confirm theories about our own involvement in their evolution. The next step is to determine how far they have deviated from the Progenitors' legacy, and see if they can be successfully Corrected.>"

Having said this, Aergyn's black eyes strayed to the vista outside, her black eyes falling to the area below the armoured bridge module. It was the Scion Nest of the Versant's commanding officer - Semathal. Rumour had it that their leader kept a specimen of its over there....

....and no less than an Aspect Maker (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Captain_Jien_Ives), if rumours were to be believed.

---

OOC: This is the starter for Chapter 02, set at 2100 hrs on Day 03, where we will begin with the scene where your characters awake in pods and are given the choice of Correction or Recycling, or they wake up in labs in various degrees of physical restraint. After they were beamed out, they have been in transporter buffers and then put into their different labs. They have no memories of anything after the beam-out. As for the people from the Endeavour, they have already undergone Correction, choice of species made, and are kept in containment cells, dealing with both the ramifications of their choice and their altered bodies. How invasive the procedure has been is up to each writer, ranging from the pods doing all the work, or invasive surgery having to be done after the pods have re-sequenced their DNA.

Now, you all post at least once now, with a post that has the Correction choice made or simply introduce your non-hybrid characters in their plight. After you all have posted, and Supplemental threads have been started, I will post with Ives and move the hands of time forward, until a point the day after, when the Correction has been made, or further experiments will begin (or has already begun). Contact me over PM or Discord if you want to brainstorm for your character's fate!

@Blue Zephyr , we have already spoken about Tiran and what she is up to, even if she can't quite make a move just yet. Still, it is time to introduce Blue Tiran to Episode 05 and the Theurgy story proper, and the same goes for @patches , @YasyraTrill and @Fife and your Endeavour survivors. :). If you would rather write the scene where the escape pod is picked up before posting here, I am game. Just let me know what you prefer!

[Ens Nathanial "Icarus" Isley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Nathaniel_Isley,_callsign_"Icarus"&redirect=no) |  Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ]  Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Hastata-Nerada @SummerDawn
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Nathan felt like he was going to choke on the tube that was supplying him air against the gel that he was apparently swimming in. When he awoke he felt like he was in some sort of nightmare, not one that he usually had, but something altogether worse. The last thing he remembered was piloting his ship, being scanned, and then being pulled from his Valkyrie.

Waking up in a surgical suit was not at all what he expected, and even less when he when saw the small creature that was setting this up. The thing was short, with a big head, and it spoke to them in a way that he wasn't entirely comfortable with. Nathan blinked listening to this creature talking. He already hated doctors, and realizing that this was about to become surgical, he couldn't help but move against the restraints trying to pull away but feeling his hands and feet locked in place.

He listened as he was told that he was to have half his life removed from him. Half his genetics, and his memories taken from him. If he didn't choose he would be recycled. His genetics had been tampered with once previously before he was born, and in his brain that meant that it would have been easier to say human, but there was a seeping horror in all of this that almost made him want to go for being recycled. Just the possibility that he could end up with a romulan face was hard to bare.

For Nathan the choice was made easily. The button for human was pressed repeatedly after only a few seconds, it was the only thing he could have a grasp over, the only thing he could figure out to work with. Looking around he saw the other pods, the other wolves who had been picked up. K'Ren, Khorin, and Dev.

Looking t them, and the sorry state that the four of them were in, it seemed impossible to try and figure out exactly how they were going to get out of this. Still the breathing tube stopped anything but the most basic of screams, and even those were muffled over the gel, and the pods, he doubted anything could be heard of him, and these creatures clearly didn't care.

[ Lt. JG Hi'Jak (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Hi%27Jak) | Octonary Correctional Lab |  Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @steelphoenix @Brutus
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Jack awoke feeling rested, there was something calming about the pod he was in, the gel eased pain from the days events, and his back felt better after having been tied up and left to rot. For a moment he almost thought he was on the theurgies medical bay in some sort of treatment, but as his eye started to see through the blur and listen he realized he had no idea what was going on around him.

He coughed and gagged around the breathing tube as a surge of panic flushed his mind. But he worked through it trying too keep it down. Hearing the voice explaining that he had one minute to select a species for him to live out the rest of his life or be recycled, he felt like he was going to be sick.

The fact that the Bio bed was comfortable, and that sleep was almost easy in his current state didn't help his mind from racing. Out of all of it the promise that they would take his memories was probably the worst part of it. His thumb, his only remaining arm grazed over the two buttons as he watched the timer.

All his life he had been told that his human half was part of his weakness, that it was a disability for which his empire could never overcome. All he had wanted to do in his youth was serve his empire, this was some sort of twisted second chance,  but at the same time he knew what Qo'Nos would do to him. Mental health wasn't exactly a Klingon concern, and having his mind wiped clean would probably end up destroying him in the long run.

On the other hand, his father was human, and he had spent as much time on earth as he had on Qo'Nos, they cared for their damaged. Earth and the united Federation was no utopia, but he had a better chance of being re-integrated into society as a human.

His eyes grazed the clock again and thirty seconds had passed, his time to make the choice was leaving him. If he didn't make a choice his life would just end, and this would be the third time today he would have thought it be the case. In the end if his mind was taken from him, he supposed it didn't matter.

He just closed his eyes, and pushed a button. It didn't matter, he was done fighting it, he wanted to live, but after today he had no life he could go back too, so this... this was the only way forward in a way the aliens were doing him a favor whatever they chose to do with him.

[ Lahkesis Saugn | Biolab | Precept-ship Versant ]
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First came the pain. Before she was even fully aware of the rest of her body, she was aware of the pain. The screaming, roaring pain from her abdomen. The shock had faded and in its place was only pain.

Her mind came crashing back into the reality of her predicament and for a moment she did not know where she was. She had the memory of the hand over her mouth and of the exoscapel slicing through her flesh. She remembered lying on the carpeted floor of the sickbay's main surgical area, a pool of the viscous fluid the cushioned her organs growing around her.

She remembered thinking she was going to die.

And yet she had not.

She had been there, dying, then there had been only the blackness, and then quite suddenly she was here. But where was that exactly?

She was on an examination table of some kind. She could barely move any part of her body so she could not check her abdomen for damage. The pain told her it was bad, but her conscious state told her that it was not as bad as her initial belief. When she opened her eyes she was immediately aware of the low light, the photoreceptors in the blue of her pupilless eyes did not work well in the odd lighting of the room she was in. The table was surrounded by a number of mechanical arms with various instruments and tools, though she could not immediately identify them, she could guess at the purpose of some of them.

So she did a mental run down of her body, based only off of what she could feel. Her abdomen had been worked on in some way, it had to be as she was not dead. She felt a general soreness over her body, likely as a result of the extreme loss of moisture due to the injury. Her arms and legs seemed intact, though she found it difficult to gather the strength to move them. She had a tube in her mouth that seemed to be feeding her a steady supply of carbon dioxide. Clearly she was being kept alive by someone outside of the pod, but in her current state that was just as much of a mystery as anything else.

She had also been given a catheter, something that spoke volumes as to where she was. She had never urinated, at least not that she could recall, and her bowels did not process waste like most humanoids. Yet she had been outfitted as if they did. This meant that whoever was treating her knew enough about her biology to close up a massive wound in her abdomen, but not about her biological functions to know she was incapable of soiling herself.

Due to the extent of Lahkesis's injuries her uniform had been removed and the wound had been treated, at least partially. A number of organs were damaged and thus after analysis were simply recycled. The wound, which had started off as a simple straight line, had torn at the ends and had since been sealed using only a temporary measure, just enough to keep it closed and from continuing to leak fluids until the examination proper could begin. There was little point in fully closing it yet as a detailed analysis would soon be done and the wound would allow for an ease of access.

[ PWO Heather McMillan (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Heather_McMillan) | Biolabs | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan
[Show/Hide]When Heather awoke, her took a deep breath through her nose, and immediately decided she didn't like what she smelt. Primarily, she smelt nothing. Her head hurt less now, like the fever was abating? She tried to raise her hand to feel her forehead, but discovered she couldn't move. Panic took over and her eyes shot open, but everything she could see was unfamiliar. Her visual was limited to whatever she could see with her peripherals, since even her head was immobile. “H'llo?” said Heather, trying to glean if this was perhaps some part of Theurgy she didn't recognize or had never seen before. But that was soon forgotten.

A strong emotion overtook her as she felt something that made her skin crawl.

Like an awareness of danger, but instead of the usual fight-or-flight response she studied and learned about, she only felt one impulse: Fight. She wanted to seek out that which was creating this sensation in her and shine like the sun. But that seemed foolish and counter to her pacifism. It was against everything she believed in. Never harm a soul. But the desire was overwhelming, and she struggled to move, to regain control of her body. She saw the strange devices that looked like laboratory equipment, the kind used for invasive research or dissection, like back in the barbaric days of humanity, when the gods were even more brutal than now.

She had to get free, had to seek out this source of the intense emotions, and burn them. Yes, burn.

But first, she had to get free, the light in her soul near to bursting to be released like a flood. A sound unlike any she ever made involuntarily escaped her throat, akin to a growl.

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[ Lt. JG Sinead O'Riley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sinead_O%27Riley#Personality_Profile) | Biolabs | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan
[Show/Hide]Sinead O'Riley was in a terrible battle. But it was not in the physical realms. Once more, her raw emotional self was fighting to take control, to defeat the new version of her, the one who kept herself in control. The battle for wills began once she came to, and upon realizing that she could not move, had decided to meditate and bide her time until such a time when an opportunity arose for her to free herself from her imprisonment, that was when her suppressed personality struck.

She remembered grappling Captain Ives just as he was being transported away, and then she knew nothing else, aside from vague recollections of a glimpse of something just beyond perception.

Then when she was able to open her eyes, all she could see was some sort of observation and research room. It seemed the most logical thing to be in, seeing as these aliens considered themselves to be some sort of scientific researchers. She was curious as to the plans they had for her, but as no one spoke to her, and she was relatively immobile, she saved her strength, and began planning her attack pattern. The priority was Captain Ives, and his safe return to Theurgy, then dealing with this Savi.

But for that she would need to be in full control of her faculties.

Easier said than done when her wilder uncontrolled personality fought for supremacy of her body even in its present fairly useless state. She had closed her eyes and appeared to be in a R.E.M. state, but if these aliens had advanced technology, they'd likely realize she wasn't asleep but in some odd meditative trance.

[ Ensign Laurel Okhala | Containment Cell | Corridor | Outside the Lab | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @patches @Blue Zephyr @Fife @Auctor Lucan

Cold. That had been the primarily feeling, Laurel had allowed herself since the "Correction" as the aliens had called it. Physically she could not seem to keep herself warm. Curled in on herself against far wall she shook from shock and physical cold. Her now fully Romulan form was not used to the change in body heat, running typically warmer that humans, she suspected the room would have been a bit chilly for her half human form but was now near freezing to her new form.

The emotional numbness, she was much less willing to examine. There was so much there to unpack. The loss of the Endeavour, the death of her non-hybrid crewmates- Egon! - the choice she had made and the aliens disregard for it. And then there was the terror at the thought of not remembering. What did they mean? Would she not remember ever having been half human? Would she forget her family? What of her training? That could leave her open to being turned against everything she had ever believed in. She wondered at the fate of her fellows, did they fight? Were they gone as well? Had they made the choice? Did they feel as out of place in their own skin as she did?

Damn, it was so cold, couldn't they have given her a blanket, a medical gown, something to help? And now things were loud as well, the muffled voice of the alien outside her cell, echoed and reverberated as if she . . . he . . . did they have gender? . . . had taken up a megaphone in an empty gymnasium and held it next to a microphone. It was so loud to her newly sensitive ears that she couldn't quite pick up on tone, meaning or even if it was being translated. Now she was cold and had a splitting headache. Well if they weren't going to monitour her vitals close enough to notice that she was freezing and in pain, then in the words of Blue, "Fuck 'em." She was going to find a way to help herself. If she was Romulan, then she wasn't defenseless.

[ K'Ren (http://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=K%27Ren) | Septenary Correctional Lab | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan

The last memory she had was feeling a transporter beam of some kind, certainly not Federation tho what origin she did not know, grip onto her and take her from her fighter craft. Now here she lay, if one could call this almost weightless feeling lying down, light headed like she'd been administered a sedative. As it began to wear off however, she could feel a breathing tube in her throat, and what felt like a catheter or something pressed against her crotch. Looking around, she realized she was in some sort of pod, surrounded by some sort of weightless material. This certainly wasn't Federation in design which means she must have been captured by the enemy they were fighting, and she was in some sort of containment pod.

Her intial reaction, to tense up and fight, she forced herself to ignore. There was very likely little chance she could fight her way out of the pod, especially a pod made by a species who could beam her out through the protective shielding of her fighter. Any species that could do that, would most likely have built a sturdy pod, sturdy enough to withstand a Klingon, and she was no Klingon. Still feeling the effects of the sedative, she felt the pod shift, what apparently was a viewport clearing and she could see the inside of the facility she was in. Three other pods, each containing another person, most likely a Theurgy crewman, though with her short time aboard she didn't recognize any of them. It was only when the Alien came into view, and began to speak that she felt the furr on her neck really begin to rise.

As he spoke, K'Ren's ears flattened against her skull, a sense of dread filling her as she saw the buttons come into view. She'd seen beings on her planet assualted, some given an opportunity to beg for leniency only to have any semblance of choice cruelly ripped from their grasp. She'd seen beings given a choice between equally bad outcomes, the scars some bared of previous 'choices.' Even her mother bore the marks beneath her fur of such choices, tho she'd shielded K'Ren and her sister from watching. And now K'Ren was in that position, her body about to be violated, a part of her personhood about to be torn from her, a choice of what remained given to her, a choice that could be overridden by this being if they so wished.

She wished not to make the choice, but the alternative was dieing and that option she refused to consider. She would not give in to the easy way out, would not let them take that from her. But she had to chose, and chose fast. Mercifully, in a sense, she'd have no memory of her choice so should she chose to become part of her mother's race? Or Part of her father's race? She knew that if she was rescued, the Federation could do corrective surgery to make her look like she was herself again, but she was unsure if they could restore her genetic makeup. A tear formed in her eye, trying desperately to pick a choice. A memory of Deacon flashed through her thoughts and she pushed the button, signalling her desire to remain Caitian. She hoped he was not here, but if he was, she wanted him to recognize her on some level, and hoped the bond she had with him, was beyond the medical science of these people to remove.

[ Lt. Cross | Containment Cell | Corridor | Outside the lab | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @YasyraTrill @patches @Blue Zephyr

Cross felt like he was drifting weightlessly in the ocean, just like on the holodeck when he would go surfing with Kai. Normally the feeling would have relaxed him and left him feeling content. He loved the water.

But this was different. He knew that he was dreaming. More accurately, he was having a nightmare. He’d had dreams like this before, all throughout his adult life. Memories played out before his eyes, vivid images, like being in a holodeck that didn’t allow you to interact… Just watch. Memories of his past. Memories of the Cardassian prison camp. Memories of the torture. Memories of the experiments. Fear and anger flowed through him. They always had whenever he had these dreams, but…

But again, he knew this time was different. There were new memories this time. Memories of floating in some sort of chamber. In his dream he stood outside the chamber, looking in at himself. He studied his other self, suspended in some sort of fluid and with a tube running down into his throat, keeping him alive, allowing him to breathe. There was a figure standing outside the pod, a figure who spoke to him. A figure who had given him a choice.

Fear. Anger. Helplessness. The emotions were stronger than before. He was being experimented on again. He’d been returned to the nightmare of his childhood. He struggled, thrashed in the chamber. The panic that gripped his chest had made him feel as though his heart was being crushed, that his lungs couldn’t expand, that his ribs were collapsing in. Cross’ mind was on the verge of becoming unhinged, barely capable of rational thought. The time had continued to tick away. Cross had to make a decision. Had to choose half of himself to keep, and half to discard. The timer counted down, nearing 0. The light flashed in front of his thumb.

The images of Cross' dream had disappeared as he jolted harshly awake, his body spasmed as his lungs gasped, feeling as though the now absent tube still ran into his mouth, into his trachea. He barely noticed that he was no longer floating in the pod, but lying on a hard surface, the floor of some sort of cell.

The nightmare… Cross thought, disoriented, fear grasping at his chest tighter then ever before, Am I still…

His thought went unfinished as the emotions assailed him. He had always struggled with his emotions, particularly the anger, the product of the Vulcan half of his parentage.

Half… until I chose…

The buttons appeared in his mind, the voice telling him to make his choice. He’d been given 2 choices. Well, he’d been given 3 choices, though Cross hadn’t considered being “recycled” much of a choice. Vulcan or Bajoran. One half or the other. His Vulcan half had given him strength, but also the internal battle, the anger that he’d struggled with his whole life. His Bajoran side had made the emotions less overwhelming than they would be for a full Vulcan, more “manageable”.

He’d made the choice. Now it was as though a floodgate had been opened. The fear, the hopelessness, the anger.

Not anger… The thought drifted through his mind, barely noticed, Rage…

Cross closed his eyes and tried to focus, tried to push the anger aside, struggled to hold it in check, to get a handle on it the way K’Shem had taught him…

K’Shem…

The name brought another image into Cross’ mind. He was kneeling, facing a table. K’Shem, the Vulcan who had helped him during his rehabilitation, knelt on the opposite side. On the table between them was a small lamp, it’s flame flickering slightly. K’Shem was guiding him through a meditation. Telling him to focus on the flame…

Cross attempted to calm himself, to allow his vision to focus. Outside the cell he saw lights, and one of his captors checking some sort of panel. Cross wasn’t concerned with his captor at the moment. He fought to focus his attention on the lights on one of the control consoles. Lights, not flames, but they would have to do. He struggled to keep his focus, and attempted to clear his mind, to remember the meditation K’Shem had taught him. He meditated every night, the only way he managed to keep his anger in check, but it had never been this difficult to focus. The onslaught of emotions that raged through the new, fully Vulcan Lt. Cross threatened to overwhelm him. K’Shem’s voice echoed in his mind, the shadow of a memory bubbling to the surface in all the chaos.

“Concentrate on the flame,” K’Shem had said, “The flame of the lamp is fire tamed, under control…”

Concentrate.... Cross ordered himself, Focus on the light…

Hylota & Vinata Vojona | Biolabs | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan
[Show/Hide]

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          Unlike all the others who were abducted by the Savi, the two Ovri were not hybrids, the main draw being the unusual nature of the specimens and the unusual hybrid child that Hylota had managed to conceive. There was an interesting level of genetic possibilities when an amphibian could manage too breed with a mammal. Of course this curiosity did not excuse them from the corrections that needed to be taken to fix the progenitors image, of course being non hybrid the Ovri siblings did not need to make a choice on what to be, the simple answer for what needed to be done for the Ovri was to make a correction to their sexual dimorphism, males looking like females and females looking like males, it was an oddity that needed to be corrected, of course the method for the change did not take into account some other factors.

With most species genetic manipulation was not the most heavily implemented change, but with the Ovri the entire race had been changed upon beginning planetary colonization. To achieve this the Ovri had used similar technology to the Savi and in the process had made their bodies more receptive to the changes, but the Savi did not look into this. Differences from the original Ovri samples were chalked up to small alterations that might be done to weed out genetic flaws, to improve simple things, not to add an entirely new genetic trait to a race. So as the usual procedure was followed by the Savi and an agent was designed to try and altar the X and Y chromosomes of the Ovri subjects, a basic level of resistance was accounted for that would not exist, and as the Ovri were treated the agent quickly began to work at their biology.

As each of the Ovri siblings began to wake in their own isolated Biolab, restrained to a table their reactions differed quite a bit As Hylota woke she began to twist her arms and legs, trying to pull herself free before beginning to thrash as she tested just how strong her restraints were. With a groan she stopped her struggling and began to focus on looking around the lab, looking for see what was going on, her breathing beginning to get heavier as she felt a strange warmth within her as the biological agent worked inside her and was getting close to triggering the change in her physical form. As Vinata woke unlike his sister he did not struggle, he felt his restraints and concluded that they were likely beyond his capabilities to break, instead he began to look around the space much like his sister had, looking to figure out what was going on, to understand how he had gotten here from Nicander's office, how...it slowly began to all come back to Vinata as he remembered what he had escaped. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths but soon began to breath a bit more quickly as he started to feel hot and rather uncomfortable as his body internally changed and prepared to be "corrected".

[Lt. R’Rori | Containment Cell | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @YasyraTrill @Blue Zephyr @Fife

R’Rori wasn’t sure how long s/he and the others had been stuck in the escape pod, adrift in the void while everyone dealt with their grief, or how long s/he had been trapped in the tank, slumbering while hir body underwent massive changes thanks to the technologies of their new hosts. There was this oppressive sense of grogginess as s/he fought to wake up, suffocating briefly as hir body purged the last of the sedatives used by hir tormentors.

For who else but the most sadistic would force such a choice between heritages? Identities? Who else but the most sadistic would unravel lives with the push of a button and call the choice humane?

Hir life had been spent navigating the waters between Caitian and human, male and female, and to an extent, life and death. It was a journey between extremes and finding that path between that didn’t quite run straight or in the middle or even, often enough, in a predictable pattern. R’Rori ultimately gravitated more towards Starfleet, humanity, and a life among the stars but hir body was hir temple to whatever gods existed that allowed hir to blend masculinity, femininity, Caitian, and human into something that was uniquely hirs. It was a carefully maintained balance now thrown in disarray.

Even the soft growl that escaped as more of hir consciousness asserted itself was alien to hir now. It was softer, but not with sleep. In a flash, R’Rori woke the rest of the way, sitting up straight as hir breathing quickened and caught in hir throat. Hands, now furless and with fingerprints, roved over a body that was somehow familiar and totally alien. The shape was the same – a boyish figure that seemed clearly feminine only by its inhabitant’s face, hair, and a pair of what were obviously small breasts. There was no fur, though, nor pads to hir feet. Hir nose seemed … different somehow, did hir sight and hearing.

S/he felt the top of hir head hurriedly. The ears were still there and could be manipulated as before, but they felt somehow superfluous. Hir tail was still attached as well. Could the infernal tank not remove cartilage or bone? A flash of annoyance and anger surged through hir body. It meant further violations to correct the body to some thrice damned grey man’s vision of a mandate from a long dead civilization. A little snip and a relatively simple surgery and few, if any would be able to tell R’Rori had ever been given Caitian genes.

Oh, the memory wipe too. Mustn’t forget that. What will they wipe? First my mother’s gift, then my memories? My life? My name? Will I even remember who I am?

Flashes of the tank, the speech, and of hir tears as s/he pressed the button kept up an assault on hir consciousness as s/he curled up on the table, the hospital gown a pitiful defense against the colder temperatures. Hir tail was gripped tight in hir hands as tears streamed down hir face. Every breath was ragged and hir heart felt like it was going to explode. Death felt near and perhaps at this point, a preferable option. At least if R’Rori had died before the “rescue”, hir body would be hirs still.

[ Deacon | Octonary Correctional Lab |  Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @Masorin  @Brutus 

The time between vanishing from the corridor on the Theurgy to his awareness of his new, alien surroundings seemed abnormally long, even given his brief exposure to transporter technology.  His initial anxiety was, in fact, a carry-over from... well, he expected, from when he was back on the ship.  Here, suspended in some sort of gel, violated from both directions by machinery and contained in some sort of specimen tube-- that didn't seem to bother him.  It wasn't all that different from memories of his past, although his own people seemed far less concerned with his comfort than these curious grey... things... seemed.

He was awake enough to realize, though, with the "flushing" of his co-captive from another nearby tube, that comfort was far from the driving factor of his captors' efforts.  Efficient, they called it.  The recitation they gave seemed more rote than compassionate, and from what he could tell of those who yet remained contained, this was some effort to purify their bodies, and he suspected the term was meant to eliminate the cross-genetic 'contamination' brought on by hybridization.  Yes, yes, it was all very clinical.  Deacon had heard such words in his own mind for years.  Kzinti didn't take such dilution of their own genetic pool lightly, hence the decision he had made when first sent to live among them so long ago.

And so the choice was presented.  Human or Kzinti.  Deacon gave a mocking sneer of derision, although it was merely an outward expression of his own amusement and it was marred by the tube unceremoniously crammed down his throat.  Was this a joke, he wondered, his thoughts turning inward.  Barely 24 hours after he'd undergone genetic surgery to return him to his true hybrid form and the statement that he'd suffered so much damage as a result of the various surgeries that he would simply have to learn to adapt to this life between cultures.

Fanged God be praised, then.  He'd been kzin for the entirety of his adult life, nearly the entirety of his actual life, for that matter.  Perhaps this was his opportunity to return home.  He wanted to present this argument to that counselor who told him he'd just have to adapt.

He paused.  The implications of the situation sinking in.  If these creatures had taken him, had they taken every half-breed on the ship?  Had they taken his K'Ren?  His fangs bared, as he nearly bit deep into the esophageal tube.  No, this was not the time.  He was in no condition to retaliate, and if their demonstration earlier was an example, any effort to breach the tube would likely be short lived, resulting in his component pieces being, as the captors had said, recycled.

His claw moved purposefully towards the buttons, his mind well set.  What sort of choice did these things think he would make?  There was only one choice.  Kzinti.  Claws, fangs, strength, speed, savagery.  He would personally ensure that their suffering was legendary.  And if he could seize some of their technology in the process, he could readily return to homeworld a champion -- a hero... a name.  He'd finally earn a name.  But what about K'Ren?  Could he take her with him?  Would she go?  No... no no... this was too much to think about now.  There was only one thing to focus on now, and that was surviving long enough to get out of this ship and drench his claws in the blood of his captors.   He'd find K'Ren, save her.  The rest would come after.

With the a click of the button, his choice was made.

[ Lt.JG Khorin Douglas | Septenary Correctional Lab | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ]
[Show/Hide]
Khorin's awareness surfaced as he became conscious of his surroundings. Or rather, what he was currently immersed in. He felt as if eh was going to choke against the tube that was currently within his mouth, which was ceaselessly supplying him air and nutrients. He tried to recall what had happened to him, and dimly remembered being pulled from his fightercraft as he struggled and raged against the transporter beam in futility.

Khorin looked around at the lab around him. This was not what he expected, though to be fair, he didn't quite know what he had expected in the first place. He tried to raise his arms, and struggled against the gel which and restraints his form was currently suspended in, but to no avail. He growled and choked and struggled on the breathing tubes as he attempted to smash his way out of the pod, but no success was to be had against his prison. There was nothing Khorin hated more than being trapped like some small animal in a cage.

When his struggling finally died down, Khorin became aware of someone talking, some individual in the room beyond his pod. Some sort of "correctional procedure" was to be performed on them, or at least that is what the alien in the room attempted to say to them. There was something oddly familiar about the alien, something about it that Khorin could swear he had seen somewhere before. He quickly dismissed this notion however, as it was unimportant to the situation at hand. The being beyond the pod said something about deoxyribonucleic acids and other terms that Khorin was unfamiliar with, as he continued to struggle against the bonds which held him in place. Something about mixed biological origin was said and it suddenly became clear to Khorin that he was going to be un-hybridized. His eyes widened. Could it be? Was he going to become a full Klingon?

A button lit up beneath each of his thumbs. One for human, one for Klingon. He quickly depressed his right thumb onto the button of his choice... A button which would allow him to become a true warrior. A button which would allow him to become true Klingon.

[ Devyrie "Dragon" Okhala (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Devyrie_Okhala,_callsign_%27%27Dragon%27%27) | Septenary Correctional Lab | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: 1) @Brutus 2) @Blue Zephyr
[Show/Hide]When Devyrie came to, she had difficulty opening her eyes, feeling as if she was suspended in water. She couldn't understand what was happening. Was it a dream? She tried to remember how she might have ended up bathing, but all she could remember was flying with Fury in their Valravn, launching from the fighter bay, thinking about Angel and how she wanted to talk. Then... Nothing, as if she had been displaced in time, with no material body to anchor her mind to, and no means of telling what had happened to her between past and present.

The present asserted itself in a voice, vibrating into her skull. She groaned, and felt something stuck down her throat. Green eyes widening, she realised she saw her surroundings through some kind of clear paste, a gel. This was no bath. She was bare-chested and hung suspended in metallic restraints, ankles locked to the floor of some kind of pod. She had something covering her nethers, but that was about it. She could see her white hair in the gel, and how it moved when she moved her head, trying to come loose. There was no use, and the voice re-asserted itself in its demand for a choice. A choice of Correction, as if she was corrupt, flawed in the eyes of this captor. She was short of breath, her breathing-tube cracking as she struggled. That was when she imagined to her her father's voice.

If you panic, you must remember; Breathe, Devyrie. Breathe, observe, and assess. Then you act. Not before.

Papa should know. He used to be Tal Shiar. Devyrie closed her eyes hard, focusing on the voice, hearing the peril of not doing as it said. Options. She had a smidgen of power in how she was presented a choice. Slowly, she opened her eyes, breathed, chest heaving slowly, and observed. She saw the buttons, their light filling the inside of the pod, and then she looked towards the speaker outside. It was a tall humanoid with a large head, and if she were any judge of its facial expression, she'd say he was bored. He had done this before. Likely many times. She was on conditioned ground, the layout of the terrain unknown, and while the captor might have been complacent, her time was running out. Her assessment, in the end, was to comply... and keep breathing.

She pressed the button that offered the Romulan choice, because if there was something Papa had taught her, it was to use every advantage she could. With a fully Romulan body, she'd have greater strength, even if she knew her human side offered balance to the turmoil of her father's heritage. He'd have to worry about that later. For the time being, she had to find a way to escape.

[Excellent,] said the captor when the full minute ran out. He had presented himself as Cirand, and Dev committed his name to memory. Knowledge was power. The captor continued. [Thank you for registering your preference. Now, the Correction will begin. By the time you wake up next, you will be a pure-bred specimen, just like the Progenitors intended. Your memories will be wiped by the time of your release.]

Then, the alien tapped his datapad, and Devyrie succumbed to oblivion once more.

Her last moments being the woman she was born, she contemplated murder of her captor - committing his face to memory too.

---

OOC: Only @Brutus and @Blue Zephyr left to post in this first segment of the Chapter, before I turn the hands of time forward to the point where the rest will play out. :)

[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sarresh_Morali) | Octonary Correctional Lab | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan 
[Show/Hide]
One moment he was in his labs, working through a complex series of calculations and the next he was waking back up, floating in some kind of...gel. Sensation returned all at once - no soft, gradual awakening, but a harsh jolt. One that left him feeling constricted and uncomfortably full at all at once. He tried to swallow and felt a tube down his throat, and something clamped over his nose to keep him from sucking a proper breath in. Panic set in almost at once. The feeling of floating was fine - he was, or had been Ash'reem, and to his species that was a natural state of being. Having tubes down his throat and up his - well, it wasn't the norm. He could fee the Cather, he could feel the tube in the back, the one in his mouth, his nose, feel every little invasion.

He began to trash, but not for long. His eyes were working, and he he was assaulted with a maelstrom of information. Life signs...one he couldn't understand and three others - no, two others now that he recognized. What in the - OH sweet gods. They....she.... he nearly vomited. The tube kept him from properly voiding his stomach. He didn't really know the woman in the other pod. Never really met her maybe once, or twice in the mess halls. Couldn't remember their name. And his eyes told him, in stark, medical detail, what had just happened.

Sarresh found it very, very easy to hold still at that point. 

But stunned, sickened fear swiftly gave way to anger. He did not have time for this. He did not need some stuck up alien species treating him like a lab rat. He heard a voice talking about erasing his memory engrams and he laughed - not that it could be heard -  a deep, belly shaking laugh that was devoid of any real mirth. Get in line he thought bitterly. He'd already had everything robbed from his mind once. And now, after he'd found a moment of happiness in Ryuan Sel, some fucking grey skinned balloon headed freaks were going to rob him of his memory again?

They were  going to give him a choice, Human or Ash'reem. Choice? Give up this frankenstien body? Of course. Not choice at all. Would Sel still want you? the thought ghosted in his mind, freezing his thumb as it just barely brushed down on the diode. A figure approached, sensed, more than seen. He snapped his cybernetic eyes back up, narrowing them in a guesture of pure, unmitigated hate. These people were going to try to take everything from him again. They, just as foolishly as the cult, perhaps more so, were interrupting his great works. He needed to fix as much of the time stream as he could. He did not have time for this, for these blithering idiots.

"Specimen Nine-Zero-Six, you should not be here yet," he heard. That must be his 'designation'. "You will be cued for purification, where your metallic enhancements will be extracted. Your Correction will be postponed for the time being."

Well isn't that just fucking nice and dan - Light filled his vision and the grip of a transporter again squeezed his body, ripping him away, leaving the gel filled pod alone

[ Corridor | Outside the Lab ]

-dy. What the fuck? he finished his thought, deposited, flat on his ass, in a cold cell. Not so cold that he shook, but colder than the gel had been. Cold enough to send goosebumps along his skin, and leave him heavily aware of his nudity in that moment. Not that he had any modesty to preserve, nor anything to be ashamed of, save that the body he'd been 'gifted' with by Dr. Nicander was not the one he'd been born with.

The room - a cell, really was seemingly empty, save for - the moment - Sarresh, and an odd robotic arm with a long, needle like probe in the ceiling. His eyes narrowed again, as he stood up, whirling about, scanning, documenting, detecting. Readings that made only flickers of sense to Sarresh for the moment. He shut them, and shook his head. He knew that the bastards were thinking of removing the implants. They were going to blind him before they fucked around with his DNA, and his mind.

Now would be a fantastic time for a bit of insight from the future? Anything? Come on, bring on the seizures, you stupid fucking programming, before these idiots make me a blank slate. There's got to be something buried in here. He smacked his head against the nearest surface to try and jar something loose.

ANY TIME NOW!!

[LCdr Blue Tiran | Survivor Time |  Giving Up Not an Option | USS Suckfest]
@YasyraTrill @patches @Fife @Numen

(https://orig00.deviantart.net/855a/f/2018/093/b/e/chapter_02_image_2___low_class_by_auctor_lucan-dc7s4fz.png)

Blue startled awake.

She rolled her body over onto her back which took some moving.  Her knee hit the metal above her and she hissed out a curse as she lowered her knee so that it wouldn't hit again as she shifted her body.  Stretching out she tried to remind her muscles that they had shit to do.  They couldn't get all crampy and make life more miserable than it already was.  She lifted her hand to check the chronometer attached to her wrist to check the time.

What the .. fuck me..

She groaned silently as she cast a arm over her eyes for a moment and took as deep a breath as she could.  Feeling the burn in her lungs that stated they weren't getting nearly the amount of oxygen her body needed.  The air on this mother fucking excuse for a ship was shit.  And it wasn't enough to keep her body going hence why she constantly passed out while she was working because her body went down into a sleep mode so that it could recover from oxygen starvation. 

That was the first thing she was going to fix.

As she let her brain boot up she thought about how she had ended up in this fucking air shaft to begin with.  She was as close to the actual unit that put out the air where the oxygen was the strongest as she could be.  But, it still wasn't enough.

==Flashback Time==

They had all been brought on board.  Blue and the others that had nothing special flowing through their veins were singled out and pushed to the side.  She could not imagine what the hell she was supposed to fucking do here.  They weren't nice, they weren't kind, and she was pretty fucking sure that they weren't going to live.  There was something about aliens taking your asses on board that just meant you were basically slated for death.  It was in all the books, the movies, and she'd been on enough missions to learn that most aliens just fucking sucked as people.

The anger and rage that had been bottled up in Blue had not gone anywhere.  So she fought and fought hard.  As they pushed her through into some sort of lab.. tubes.. beds... equipment everywhere and the stench of sanitizing solution burned her nose.. she knew that shit was about to go from bad to worse. First the fucking Borg.  Then her fiance was dead.  Then she was on a fucking tin can in fucking space for days with those fuckers that had forced her on board and the fucking ship that ejected them before Ranaan could get on board.  Shar for taking her out of the corridor and forcing her ass, all legs.. and arms, kicking and screaming and cursing in every language that she knew including the Portuguese that she had picked up from Ducote.

Now she was facing some kind of fuckers that wanted to do shit to them.  Only, she was with the others.  Blue stood in the back, she didn't understand the language they were using but she could tell by their faces they were talking about her.  One of them came over, the large odd shaped hand grabbed her arm which she forced right back out of his grip.  With a sigh the creature grabbed her by her black and blue hair and hauled her out in front of the others.  Blue cried out in pain and tried to fight but unfortunately they had a good hold and while a couple of her blows landed it didn't seem to bother the creature much.

Shoved in front of the others they tittered and tattered over her odd hair color and checked her skin tone.  She could not figure out what the fuck they were doing but she did not want to be touched by any of these fuckers.  She tried to run three times and each time she was kept still in a circle of the aliens that had 'rescued' them from space. 

From where she was though she could see the other humans, those that had pure human blood lines.  They scanned her with some sort of device and it was decided that despite her odd colorations she was in fact human and she was tossed again with Egon the only other full-blood with her.  The two crewmates were lead to an ajoining area.  She tried to keep an eye on R'Rori and the others.  Even though she would like to give Shar a nice black eye, she didn't want to see harm come to any of the people that she had served with.  Blue might have a mouth on her but she certainly had a big heart it was just harder for most people to see it. 

The area was dominated by a large massive pad.  It glimmered slightly as it came to life with a undertone of a cool blue color from some kind of lights that came from underneath the pad.  On top there was some kind of .. projector.  If Blue had to guess it was something that was somewhat similar to a transportation pad but it wasn't.  She had never seen anything like it in her life, but it looked as though it was some sort of buffer.  For what, she could not figure out.  Egon was in front of her, and Blue watched as they grabbed him and hauled him up on the pad.  He looked at her.  Their eyes met, his were wide and fearful.  There was no telling exactly what this thing was going to do to them but they were separated from the others and Blue's gut said it wasn't going to be a good thing.

The Savi stepped off the pad and told Egon to remain where he was.  Not to move, it would just get messy.  Blue watched as the aliens headed to a control panel that was waiting with blinking lights, all kinds of buttons, and a read out screen.  She couldn't read their language but she was certainly paying attention and taking everything in.  The way that the computer scanned the man on the Pad, the way that his image came up on the screen and the percentages, likely of his genetic make up filled up the screen and then they pressed a large green button and pushed a lever forward.  The lights on the pad brightened and the projection port above Egon came to life and began to glow even more so.

Blue's eyes shifted to the man, as he began to glow because of the light that was now surrounding him.  He didn't seem to really feel anything other than panic.  His eyes, wider, she could see the whites of him now as the particles that were being projected and reflected from the system began to swirl around him.  Only.. a minute later she realized that it wasn't the particles from the system.. it was Egon.  She hadn't realized it at first as the system was only taking the top layer of his being and then as it went deeper Egon began to disappear.  He was breathing heavily, and the last thing she heard as his entire body was turned from a person.. Egon.. that guy that she had shared a pod with.. to the dust and debris that was flying around into the particle storm that was on the pad now, was one long agonizing scream before his lungs didn't exist anymore.

The blue haired woman swallowed heavily.  ”Enraba Me.” she whispered to herself as the lights were killed, the buttons pushed,the lever pulled back down and then... everything hit the deck.  With a great big slop, the wet sickly sound of the former remains of Egon hitting the deck would live on in her mind for the rest of whatever life she had left.  Another button, and the drain in the center of the pad opened up.  A funnel allowed the goo to slowly slide into some kind of tube and who knew where it was going to go or what it would be used for but Blue Tiran knew one thing.  They were not going to get her on that fucking pad very easily.

As the goo worked itself into the tube Blue knew that she had to figure out what the hell she was going to do with herself.  She looked around there had to be something.  Somewhere.  Something that she could do. 

One of them spoke to her and she jumped.  They grabbed her by the back of her muscular arm and began to march her forward.  Blue went limp.  Dragging her entire body.  The Savi didn't seem to care the drain in the floor closed as he drug her up the steps while Blue sought desperately to buy herself time.  Trying to fight, cursing, anything she could do from living the same fate as  Egon had.  She hoped that one day she could tell the others how brave he had been in the end.  Not a single fucking tear. 

They shoved her down on the pad and then left, she ran.  She ran as fast as she could but it was not fast enough.  A strong arm around her midsection brought her back to the pad and tossed her down.  She hit her shoulder and a hiss escaped her.  She sat up as the Savi went back to the control panel and began to prep things for her own.. death.  Whatever they wanted to call it that's what it was.  A banging sounded to her left and Blue along with the other Savi turned to see a maintenance hatch she hadn't realized was a thing pop open.  Out popped a shorter Savi.  His suit tarnished and in a lot less repair than the Savi that were down here messing with all of them. 

They all began talking with each other.  She could sense that whatever this Savi was he was less than the others but she didn't have time to give any kind of attention to it. Blue moved.  She quickly darted for the hatch, and while she moved she kicked the knee out of the Savi from the hatch so he would be unable to grab her even if he wanted to and quickly slid herself into the hatch.  Grabbing the panel she locked it back into place and made quick work into the systems.  She didn't stay in the hatch long before she found a vent and quickly got herself into the air ducts.  She didn't want to make herself easy to find and she was fairly certain they would come after her.

At least that was her theory.

==End Flashback==

That had been 48 fucking hours ago.  There about.  Give or take.  Because it wasn't like she had been looking at her watch while she crawled desperately through the air shafts to find herself a base of operations.  She didn't have her bag.  Albert was back on the Can and she had no fucking idea how to get to them.  More than that, those that had been of mixed heritage were still alive.  She crawled through the systems to that direction from time to time to check on them but thus far they had all been asleep.  She could only do so much.  She had pieced together a Savi suit from one of the slum areas.  The highly industrial section of the ship allowed for her to slip in and out of buildings without being noticed so easily.  She had found a junkyard, her guilty pleasure, and worked on some parts.  She needed to make something that could concentrate her oxygen.  And if they were going to stage a jailbreak, she needed to get some other things together as well.

Blue rubbed the sleep grit from her eyes and looked at the parts laying beside her where her hands had dropped them as her mind drifted to sleep despite her best efforts.  Here I am fucking napping while my crew mates are.. well they're napping but they .. something was done to them.  I can tell that much from the vent but .. what the fuck.. I have no idea at the moment.  She swallowed heavily, her stomach churned and grumbled she hadn't eaten since .. well.. before her nap back on the Endeavour.  She didn't feel hungry but her body reminded her that it needed some food to keep moving forward.  She was going to have to venture out.

I need a suit, first, if I'm to do anything. she thought.

Blue spurred into motion she began to low crawl through the vent system to her usual exit point.  The one that was the most hidden and the perfect for getting in and out.  For the most part she could just dart out and back in for parts.  This shaft lead to the junk yard where she was collecting her parts with a plan in mind.  Blue was not the sort to give up.  And being busy meant that she wasn't thinking about Rannan.

Ranaan.  You said you would be there.  You told me to go so that you could finish up and come after me.  But you didn't come.  You mother fucker you didn't come.  And who's going to tell your mom and dad your space dust now?  Huh?  You know he hates my fucking guts and now I get to tell him that I lost you.  Somehow this is going to be my fault and how the fuck could you just leave me like that!  You promised!

Thoughts invaded her mind, every time that his name came up in her mind the diatribe was similar.  Angry was better than sad.  She could be sad later, but she knew the moment she let the horror and sadness take over she would be useless.  Right now she had a plan, and right now she had the rage, and those were the two things that were keeping her alive at this moment. 

She needed more though.  A suit.  Food.  Air.  A better compressor.  She needed to trick some devices into thinking that her vitals were Savi, so she could do more.  Go further.  Hide in plain sight.  This was not going to be a fast mission, but it was one that she was most certainly going to take on.  She would get her and the crew out of here or she would die trying.

Time for action.

[ Echtand qi Versant | Scion Nest | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ]
Main Research Hull: [Show/Hide]Adjusting the settings on his suit, Echtand stepped through the dim opening to the Scion Nest of the Versant. Frowning a little, he calibrated the pressure across his chest, only to find that the settings were the usual. He realised that the tightness he felt had nothing to do with his suit, but the fact that he had an audience with Semathal. Irritated at his lack of composure, he took a deep breath and blinked at the darkness ahead.

It - denoting how Scions were bigendered - was almost a hundred years old, chosen by the bygone leaders to be the Commanding Officer of the Versant. Now, the old leaders had been replaced by seven Scion Admirals that formed the Savi High Council, the highest ruling body of the Savi, and Semathal was one of them.

Echtand knew that this Scion had been chosen because of the receptor responses in its brain while still in its Ante mother's womb. As one of the most intelligent Scions yet born, it learned about its role in the furthering of its own species at a very young age, and while there was no records of what was believed to be an accident, Echtand had heard - unofficially - that Semathal had raped and murdered its Ante mother. Echtand could only speculate, thinking it had done so out of the shame of being created in the womb of something so inferior. It made Echtand wonder if the Scion thought Antes had any place in the near future of the Savi, or if it awaited a moment when the research could continue without them. Echtand knew that it was accepted as a part of his people's evolution, and he remained firmly convinced that the Scion Directive was the right path ahead for the Savi.

His mother and father had opposed the idea of advancing their own species through the Scion gene. Because they did, Echtand lost them at a young age, their sentences for opposing the Code being invasive biological experiments and the result made public record. He kept the records still, as a reminder about not wavering from the Code, and he believed he remained strong in his conviction because of it. The Code was more important than his own life, and if there was no evolution of his own species, what was the purpose of their research?

Then he heard the voice, that deep, clicking reverberation against the deck plating beneath Echtand's feet. "<Report.>"

Echtand wasted no time on formalities either, he folded his large hands behind his back and recited the contents of his tablet from memory. He was High Class, with an eidetic memory, and there was no need to read notes like some Low Class degenerate. "<Repairs to the Versant is already making satisfactory progress, and it is estimated that the benamite conduits, the gravitic displacement engines and the transwarp reactor will all be functioning at peak efficiency within 72 hours.>"

"<It is I who judge what might be 'satisfactory',>" clicked the shape in the darkness, its head turning somewhat towards Echtand. He could see the profile of its mandibles, and how its chitin exoskeleton was shifting. The Scion filled the large hall more with its presence than the fact of its body, but with only a small motion, it hinted at its immense physical strength, and its capacity for sudden movement. "<I want the Versant in pursuit of the survivors sooner. Has the import of the repairs not been heeded?>"

"<The repairs are the top priority for all Savi on the ship, Admiral. All possible resources have been vested to the task,>" Echtand assured Semathal, blinking once. "<All other research is secondary, but continues since there is naught for the surplus resources of Savi to do. An idle crew is not efficient, even if they are unneeded for the repairs. It is stated in the Code.>"

"<It is stated,>" clicked Semathal in customary concession, its tone in contrast with the words, but did not pursue the issue further. It stepped towards the aft bulkhead of the great nest, its gait showing how it moved on three legs. The shadows shifted across its gleaming body, sharp protrusions glinting in the light. "<How many specimens do we hold for Correction?>"

Echtand did not have to check the number on his data tablet. "<Fifty-seven at various stages of of the process, Admiral.>"

"<Too many. Recycle them all. We need their biomatter for the work forces that conduct the repairs. Low priority experiments on specimens will also cease, and the specimens fed to the Versant and the crew.>"

Blinking Echtand might not care the least about the specimens themselves, but the order was not sanctioned by the Code, so he had to speak on behalf of it. No other time had he felt like a mere Ante facing the future of its kind, and standing in the way for it. "<The... Code states that Correction is one of the main tenets, and no Savi ma->"

"<I know the Code,>" snapped Semathal, rounding on Echtand. Its four eyes caught the dim lighting from on high, and it let out a noise that made Echtand's skull ache. "<I will have the High Council approve of this measure, because of the Versant's current needs. You will forward my demand, and I will have the exception made. Exceptions are are also stated in the Code, and I have the authority to make one.>"

"<It is stated,>" said Echtand, calmer when finding himself still alive. Semathal might not kill the Voice of the Savi on a whim, but it would not be the first fatality known among High Class that had an audience with the Scion. "<The High Concil will convene at the earliest convenience to handle the petition for an exception, and I will inform you as soon as I receive word.>"

The Scion merely made a noise of concession, which made Echtand's eyes drift to the glowing sphere by the aft bulkhead. Inside it, he saw the single specimen included in Semathal's personal research project. It appeared merely human, but Echtand knew what it was.

"<If I may ask, Admiral, has the Aspect Maker responded as expected to the quantum stasis field, or do you need technicans to calibrate it?>"

The noise heard was one of part derision and part amusement. "<The specimen is not going anywhere. It can't even change form lest I make it do so. Further studies are forthcoming, but already, it has been provoked far enough to ensure its properly contained. You are dismissed...>"

"<I understand,>" said Echtand, looking at the bared and bleeding human female inside the sphere, not liking the look of defience in her glare. So much data had been lost on the Aspect Makers, but it was easy to forget that it was no human he looked at. "<By your leave, Admiral.>"

Then, Echtand left the Scion Nest behind, and for some reason... he found himself thinking about the defiance of his parents.

---

OOC: This post closes the time of Day 03, and now, we move the hands of time forward 48 hours in Chapter 02, to Day 05!

All Theurgy crewmembers that were slated for Correction will be waking up in Containment Cells next, and you may depict them discovering their own bodies having been changed. They will have no idea about 48 hours having passed, but once you have all posted, I will have the Savi speak to them all and set things up further in the process. Please see top post for details on the Containment Cells.

All Endeavour crewmembers have been contained for 48 more hours in their cells, but since the Savi have found their health deteriorating, the decision has been made that they will be given more freedom of movement in wait for further surgeries and the memory engram treatment that they are due for. Therefore, they are beamed into to an Observation Pen in your upcoming posts, where they - in their gowns - are able to meet and speak. The Observation Pens are larger areas that specimen are kept in, and they also function as holodecks. To begin with, there is no holo program running, so they merely meet between four bare walls. The Theurgy crewmembers will be joining the Endeavour crew shortly, but in the meantime, the Pen is filled with a handful of other NPCs from the Endeavour. Naturally, it will be hard for everyone to recognise each other, even if they were friends on the Endeavour. It is in from the Observation Pen that the escape might be planned between the characters of the two ships!

All specimens in the biolabs will have Supplementary threads set up, where starters will be posted by the writers of said characters. Details for these starters are sorted out OOC with the GM as required.

---

48 Hours Later....

---

[Deacon | Containment Cell | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant]

He wondered he long he'd been awake.  He wondered how long he'd been asleep.  Nothing seemed to want to work but that was his nature -- his mind forcing himself to rouse long before his body dared.  In the darkness of his half-conscious mindscape, there were flashes, images that chilled him to the core of his being more so than any tales of the Hunting Fields that awaited all kzinti at the end of their lives.  He'd dreamt of those fields and what might await him, stoking the fear and suspicion of the afterlife intrinsic to his culture but this was altogether different.  But was it real? It wasn't unheard of for kzinti to awaken mid-surgery, the redundancies of their physiology ever working to fight off any sedative, any numbing agent.  He, himself, had experienced it once or twice as a child.  Then, as now, he'd been restrained, unable to move, but never before had he lay witness to his chest split asunder, his organs strung about on medical instruments as if they'd been set out to dry or even to decorate, one of his hearts held in the hand of the grey skinned creature who merely regarded it with unblinking black eyes as it accelerated in response to his panic.  Darkness couldn't steal the image away quickly enough, and even now, it sparked repeatedly against the inside of his eyelids.

He felt light headed, a feverish lethargy creeping through his muscles.  Was this some flashback to the virus he'd contracted?  He couldn't help but find some amusement in the thought that these creatures, having restored his form, had inadvertently inflicted some deadly disease upon themselves.  Deacon, plaguebringer.  It had a certain ring to it, at least for the length of time it took him to coin the term before his stomach turned and a wave of nausea swam through the depth of his innards.

By the Fanged God, how could he feel so bad when he should be feeling himself.  Strong, even.  Had these creatures seen fit to drug him rather than risk his wrath?  He couldn't blame them for the foresight.  Carving their pallid flesh from their bones was the very least of notions that had occurred to him since he'd first awakened in the tank.  Truth be told, he'd even considered indulging in the most kzinti of rites and eating one or two, but again, his stomach gave a violent shift and threatened to seize up.

For untold minutes, he lay motionless, controlling his breathing, focusing his mind, settling his queasy digestive tract.  This wasn't the virus.  That was too fresh in his mind for him to mistake his current state for the other -- time had not yet dulled the distinction between the two.  But what?

One...two...  One...two...  One...two... Quietly he listened to the rhythm that beat in his ears, growing concerned.  One...two... One...two... Something was amiss.  The rhythm was unlike any he was familiar with, the beats too few, the cadence too slow.  The vision again, one heart held in the grasp of one of the aliens, arteries and veins strung about on hooks and wires over him.  What had they done??

He rose with a start, hands clutching at his chest but finding it unlike he'd ever known.  Furless, even absent the silvery undercoat he'd bore since Nicander's 'restorative' surgery, exposing only tanned flesh with faint sub-dermal striping -- the only evidence of his former markings.  His hands he held up to examine, head shaking, mind refusing to accept that four claws had been replaced with five blunted fingers that trembled.

Any sense of nausea was cast aside, washed away in a mixture of horror, disgust and a mounting core of rage.  Human!  The lying pieces of excrement tore away the very last of who he'd been away in favor of something he couldn't recognize.  Aside from the most faint of feline features, they had reduced him to a monkey and in an instant, he hated them, hated himself, his fingernails trying to find purchase in the offensive skin that covered him, trying to tear it away, but finding only the barest of purchase, drawing only small beads of his deep red blood in his panic and fury.  Not even a scar.  They'd carved him open, removed two of his hearts and Fanged God knew what else.  Why had they done this to him?  Was this punishment?  Had the Fanged God turned his back on him for betraying his people. 

Tears streamed from his eyes, his mouth turning into a sneer.  Human.  No.  No, this would not stand.  Nicander said his genes had been so damaged that there would be no going back; they'd simply taken the simplest path.  But he didn't want to justify the crime they'd committed against him, this atrocity made manifest.  No, he would exact his vengeance.  He was kzinti inside, he would always be kzinti inside, and if these arrogant bastards thought they would wipe that truth from his mind with a simple bit of engramatic programming, it would be his personal pleasure to demonstrate to them the fate of the last race that thought they had the right to genetically tamper with his people.

Rising to his feet, he frowned darkly at the inelegance of his reconfigured leg, feeling the inadequacy of standing flat footed rather the balanced on the forefoot, ready to pounce.  His tail remained -- a small favor he reasoned, to give him some ability to walk, lest he be left an invalid in need of neuropathic reconditioning.  Taking a few tentative if awkward steps, he paused, taking stock of what remained of who he'd been.  He would need to master this crippled flesh as quickly as possible, he could wallow in self-pity on his own time.  He had to find K'Ren.  Had they tampered with her as well?  He bared his fangs, although they felt all the less impressive behind his human lips.

If nothing else, history showed that the kzinti learned one thing over the ages -- genocide was bad.  It was a waste of resources, a lost chance to secure additional slave labor.  Yes, genocide was bad.  Too bad for the Savi, they'd made him human...

[ Lt. JG Hi'Jak (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Hi%27Jak) | containment cell | main research hull ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan [Show/Hide]
Jack moved slowly, feeling so very weak. His remaining hand hit his forehead and he felt smoothness that was never there before. His breath was painful to draw in. It felt wrong, his eye snapping awake. Something awful had happened to him. Slowly, memories from what felt like a waking dream came back to him, two creatures looming over his pod, talking, the translator picking up maybe half of what they were saying.

"Well we could regrow the eye, but it would take an extra day."

"Not worth the trouble, we can save the arm though."

"What? I thought it was going to be a quick hack job. Let the humans figure it out. Just take the arm okay."

"What do you think?"

"It pressed a button. At this point, we can do whatever we want. Just loose the arm."

Pain, everything was blinding. The blond man looked around for a moment his body turned and he fell to the floor, his vision half of what it used to be. His breath, it felt like he was being strangled, each breath missing a third of what he was supposed to be drawing in. His muscles felt like agony.

"What?" He reached out for a moment, half his body moving to where he willed it, the other half, the other arm that was supposed to respond, was gone. He turned his head so he could get the full view. What was supposed to be a second shot at life, had been no favor to him. His arm was gone, taken just above the elbow. His burns had been healed, and he felt better than he had in days aside from feeling so weak.

He coughed from trying to draw in too much air. "They took a lung." Klingon's had three, humans only had two. In truth, he didn't know which button he had pressed, but he had to assume he must have hit human because the amount of work for this transition, his skull, his muscle density and the fucking lung! All had been altered to be more like his terran father. Everything he had ever wanted, the Empire that he had wanted to serve, the name he had always wanted, everything had been turned to ash.

The worst insult was that they had left him a cripple. More so as the muscles felt so weak, he wasn't even sure how they managed to stand, but he dragged himself up to look around his cell, his eye scanning where he was. The only thing on his body was a gown, not unlike that of a hospital gown. Which Jack, ignoring any company he may have had, quickly ripped off his body to check that which was most important.

His cock was still there, though a little more pale than the last time he had seen it, but it's size had remained unchanged, the ridges however were gone, and he let out a silent cuss. It was the last in a long line of things that had been taken from him today.

The scientist laid back down in complete misery. He supposed the good part was that he wouldn't remember all that he had lost.

On the one bright side of all this, no one would ever know how badly he had fucked up. The Federation all believed him dead in the explosion, so the man he was would vanish into the aether while the new human him would eventually be delivered to Earth. He supposed if it was in him he could join the Academy again. There wasn't much to do on Earth he would probably get bored with it.

Maybe in ten years, when he was 36, he could have a ship of his own. He supposed at that point it wouldn't matter if his cock was ridged or not, he could be proud of that future version of himself.

As for the present him, well, if he was reunited with the Theurgy crew, the only thing that would happen to him was getting shot out an airlock. Word that he had betrayed them would have reached the captain by now. He had wanted to keep Ida alive, so that he could try and hold the fact that he had saved her twice as leverage to get her to agree to his version of events, thus all debts cleared.

While he didn't know what happened to the Sabine, he doubted the blue bitch was here. He could only assume that she wasn't, and that once she learned of his treachery, she would probably take lead of the firing squad.

In short, he had nothing he could really live for anymore. Even though he might have wished for more time, a chance to integrate himself further into a crew. If given a chance, would he do it over?

It was a tough choice. He still didn't trust the captain or the crew, they had ordered a gun be put to his head. He was only still alive because spiders from the void of hell had arrived to save his ass.

It was a coin flip, but he had heard enough about Ives to know apologies would do nothing for him.

[ K'Ren (http://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=K%27Ren) | Septenary Correctional Lab | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] ( Savi written by @Auctor Lucan )

It felt like a bad dream. She'd been in her fighter, only to be whisked away and placed in a pod of sorts where and Alien told her she was impure, a child of two worlds that would have to chose which world she belonged to. A choice made and she soon fell back into troubled slumber. She didn't know for how long she slept, but nightmares, nightmares about her mother and sister, her home on Nova, all wiped out for a single choice she made. Little did she know the truth of her reality, her slumber only serving to prolong the inevitable.

Slowly she began to awaken again as the sedatives used by the Savi while her body underwent 'correction' wore off. She looked around at the room through blurred eyes, unsure why her vision felt off, wondering what in the deity's name was going on. The room was bare save for a peice of machinery that hung from the ceiling, a rather imposing looking machine she couldn't fathom the purpose of. Laying back down again, her sense of balance seemed off, almost as if it was in overload. The same could be said for her eyes as she was used to her formerly hybrid body.

Alone in this cell, she began to wonder if that nightmare, the nightmares she'd had were real, that she had been captured, given a choice between her heritages, and had her humanity stripped away from her. Curling up, she felt sore from whatever had happened, her body adjusting to her new genetics. She mewled a little, feeling alone and unsure, almost like a cub who was lost and alone. What had happened to her, where was she?

Outside the Containment Cell, the xenobiologist Cirand appeared, wearing his black suit and holding a tablet. He had no greater interest in speaking with either of the specimens, but the Code stated clearly that if there had been any complications of greater nature, he was supposed to inform the specimen. There were transcripts for most complications, just like this one, that he knew well enough. He did not have to read out loud from the data tablet either, having committed most of the transcripts to memory.

He looked towards the specimen, now fully Caitian, with thicker and longer fur covering her body - growth having been accelerated in the Resequence Pod. 48 hours had been enough, it seemed. The specimen clearly showed signs of a more Caitian body disposition too, the legs. No, it wasn't the result itself that had been an issue. He tapped his tablet to activate the translator in the cell and spoke, his voice amplified as reverberations in the bulkheads, on the very deck she sat on.

"Your Correction is now complete, with no further surgery required," he said, as if he spoke of the nutritional meal he had ingested that morning.

K'Ren looked up from her spot on the floor of the cell, recognizing that voice, the disembodied computer that had spoken to her during her nightmare, forced her to chose between her heritages. She could feel anger rising in her, this was no dream it seemed, she had been forced to chose her mother's heritage over her father's, her body forced against her will to become fully Caitian. Looking at the door, the mewling of a lost young kitten was easily replaced by a low almost growl as she listened to him speak.

"I regret to inform you that you had been impregnated by a Kzinti prior to the re-sequence process, and that the blastocyst - which hadn't yet developed into an embryo - was lost. What you lost would have been in need of Correction as well, but since its genome would have held elements of Human, Caitian and Kzinti DNA, it was easier to just have the blastocyst Recycled. Please bear in mind that you will not remember this loss upon your release, since any memory of this conversation will have been removed."

The words he briefly spoke about her 'correction' she expected, it had been outlined in the nighmare inside the pod, but when he told her that she had been impregnanted, by Deacon, only to have the fertilized egg so calously destroyed because it was not pure, hit her like a pile of bricks. She'd have stumbled had she not already been sitting down, but her hand went to the now empty place in her belly, her paw resting upon the place her's and Deacon's cub would have grown had this monster not taken it from her. Tears began to flow freely as she thought about what could have been, what the cub would have looked like had it not been killed with so little regard for it's future.

Cirand sighed, finished with the speech required of him by the Code. "Are you in any pain, or do you have any questions?"

It was only when he finished speaking, asking her if she was in pain, or had any questions that K'Ren looked to the bulkhead, assuming the alien who did this was behind it watching her. She wanted to say so many things, to lash out at him, to ask why his species would do this to her and the cub she had carried these brief few days. In the end she could only choke out one word. "Why?"

The question posed was hardly a first, and Cirand almost decided to end the conversation and move on to the next specimen. Perhaps it was ingrained into his mind that he had to follow the Code, or perhaps he answered that question yet again since he had reply at the forefront of his mind. Either way, he tapped his tablet, and the bulkhead turned opaque, revealing himself to the Caitian inside the cell. He looked down on her, and spoke with detached certainty - as if telling a child that adults knew better.

"We are the Vigilant of Sa. We have watched empires rise and fall. We preserve the heritage that the Progenitors left behind, ensuring that their legacy is not corrupted by the mixing of genes from different species. We, the Savi, carry on their work. Their design, their gift to this Galaxy alone, should enable you to live and breathe. Instead, your mother and father sought to squander and distort what they had been given... and we have now corrected the corruption that they begot."

Of course, since the Scion Directive was decided upon, the unsaid reason was that they did not wish for some other species to compete with their own might... but as far as Cirand was concerned, the legacy of the Progenitors was more than enough to motivate the hundreds of Corrections he had preformed.

K'Ren could see her captor for the first time, really see him, and despite her vision still being unclear, her brain was learning to process the unfamiliar information her now Caitian eyes were giving her, she could make out enough to commit him to memory. If let out, she would kill this being for the pain they were putting her through. She had read a note in one of her history texts about a Starfleet Captain who'd encountered a being much like they described, who'd encountered such a being. "You know nothing of my mother and my sire, my family, my heritage. My father loved my mother, loved her enough she willingly gave him us, let him sire us. I love that Kzinti enough that I gave him the same thing my mother gave my father, my own offspring. And you presume to take that from me, from us." She snorted, growling, anger well and truely welled up inside. "Did it occur to you they might have wanted us to intermingle, gave us a gift of compatibility for just that reason? Perhaps each race, yours included, are part of a larger puzzle?"

Hearing the Caitian female speak, Cirand was reminded why there was no merit in engaging in conversation with the ignorant specimens. "If you tried to look at the sun of the planet you were raised on, you would be blinded. If you can't see it, does it mean that it isn't there? Just like the sun, the Savi care not that you are blind to them. Our purpose is larger than you, and move beyond your understanding. Your limited comprehension means nothing to us, much less your misplaced sense of entitlement. The Correction is not just a gift... but a mercy. You should be grateful."

Saying this, Cirand tapped his data tablet, and the phospors in the bulkhead closed the view of the cell. He stepped towards the next, his mind already elsewhere.

K'Ren watched the bulkhead shimmer opaque again, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She didn't know what to think or feel for all the emotions roiling through her consciousness. Anger at the Savi, a desire to kill them for what they did, fear at the prospect everything that made her K'Ren would be stripped away and she'd be left a memory less being, pain at the kowledge that her first cub, the child that she had made with Deacon, was lost to her. The ovveriding desire however, was to escape, escape and find Deacon, perhaps the two of them could find a way off this ship, find a way off and get away from this madness.

[Ens Nathanial "Icarus" Isley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Nathaniel_Isley,_callsign_"Icarus"&redirect=no) | Containment Cell | Precept-ship Versant ]  Attn: @Auctor Lucan


Nathan struggled for a moment, his arms trying to rip apart the constraints as he sat glaring at the door, anger like he had never felt, fear like he never knew ran through him. This was the second time he had woken up, the claw marks on his throat were from the first time. He breathed heavily feeling constrained by his lungs. Nathaniel felt wild fury. His mother had always told him that the emotions would guide him, and he thought that as a half breed he had control over himself, and yet here in wherever he was he could hardily have imagined the raw feelings that could run through him shifting through him at every second.

Among them all though his eyes now dark brown were alive with hate. Hate for his skin a paleish green, all those corrections his mother had made to him all those years ago completely undone. The nightmare that he  had been living through would not stop, he had tried to make it stop when he had woken up, and the claw at the top of the room had extended and stopped him knocking him out once before.

Now he was restrained, his hands balled fists of hate and blood. Nathan had thrown himself at the door multiple times feeling his body burn and bounce off the shield. His voice was different, and raw from all the screams.

"When I get out of here I will kill all of you." His voice was more of a snarl. Without the human side to prevent him and give him some rationality, the Romulan side, the emotional state he could not control were in charge of him. He stood up and charged the door again, knocked to the ground he shifted his shoulder. He growled feeling some kind of animal need to rip something apart. Be it himself or the others. He had no doubt that he would get out, and he would break something... or someone.

[Lt. Rori | Day 3 | Containment Cell | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant] @Fife @YasyraTrill @Auctor Lucan

R’Rori was not having a good week. Having hir ship shot out from under hir by an enemy that was supposed to be vanquished was just the start. Sitting in a tin can far from home filled with angry and grieving people was also not very auspicious. S/he should have been a better peacekeeper but how, when s/he could hardly stay balanced even then? The last few days managed to make it worse without actually resulting in hir death.

Apparently, the ears and tail would be snipped off at some point, according to a bored alien voice informing hir of such after s/he woke up for the second time. They also set out food and some water. Her nose no longer informed hir of the exact composition of the meal. R’Rori could certainly still smell it, determine there was meat in it as s/he stayed curled up on the lone piece of real furniture in the room, hir back still to the door.

This headache isn’t going to go away without that water. Not really feeling like eating, though.

Intellectually, the experienced therapist knew what was really going on. S/he was one for tight control of hir own body and mannerisms, deliberately cultivating a specific appearance and outward personality that aided both hir daily tasks and hir comfort with hir own body. That control was being stripped away from R’Rori and s/he was not a fan.

Reluctantly, the newly reshaped human slunk hir way to the food and drink. S/he made a face at the food. It didn’t look appetizing anyway, even if s/he was sure it was nutritious enough. The weakness in hir body surprised hir. R’Rori was hardly at peak fitness before, but at least hir body didn’t protest at moving a couple meters. S/he needed some real rest and food, but just not … here. The water was cool and refreshing enough. It went down as quickly as R’Rori saw hir way back to the biobed.

When whoever locked hir in here came back for the food, R’Rori’s attention was again grabbed by a disembodied voice.

“If you do not eat, you will be Recycled.”

S/he remained quiet at first, breaking the silence with a softly spoken response. “I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat."

There was no response, just the noted disappearance of hir food and water, before the arm that hung menacingly from the ceiling extended down and injected the prone figure on the bed. R’Rori’s reaction was just to curl up tighter as s/he felt the cool blast of air and sharp pinch of the hypospray on hir body.

[Day 4]

Whoever imprisoned hir and presumably the others from the escape pod took it upon themselves to simulate a day and night light cycle. It was definitely something R’Rori appreciated as it meant hir sleep cycle wouldn’t be totally out of whack. Time had temporarily lost its meaning on the escape pod and s/he wasn’t sure how long s/he had been in the tube. Having at least some semblance of day and night time gave hir one less weird thing to dwell on.

Currently, the initial panic and anxiety had subsided enough for hir to focus again on hir body and the changes. There was a vague feeling of internal organ changes and the way hir body reacted to hir mental commands felt slightly off as well, as if the musculature functioned differently. If s/he was vainer, s/he would describe it as lacking a certain grace that was present before. There lacked a subtle restrained tension and R’Rori couldn’t quite figure out if that was due to circumstances or bodily changes. S/he knew hir Caitian heritage went deep, though, deeper than the fur that was now absent from hir body.

S/he had touched humans before, felt the warmth of their skin and the feel of body hair that could be alternately coarse or soft depending on the body that grew them. Hir own body felt as alien to hir new fingers as those other bodies. The sensitivity of hir skin was almost too much, a trail of goosebumps making its way from the touch. Idly, s/he wondered how much longer it would be before hir own body hair would make its presence known. Did the alien’s intervention make hir permanently hairless below hir head or would hir fur be replaced by the mixture of vellus and terminal hairs s/he had spotted on humans?

Other humans, I suppose now. My ears and tail may still be attached, but it’s clear that I’m human everywhere else.

Anxiety wormed its way back to hir chest as the thought settled and a deep breath was necessary to aid in lessening it once more before it became a larger attack. Intellectually, the counselor knew well what was happening to hir. The anxiety and dysphoria s/he struggled with for most of hir conscious life was returning with a vengeance, prompted by the massive change s/he was now exploring more in depth. Puberty had been an awakening in more than one sense and the resulting journey in mind and body had not been without its pitfalls. In a sense, s/he was better off this time, armed as s/he was with knowledge gained from hir education and experience.

The sound of something being replicated and placed into hir cell interrupted hir thoughts, a small mercy given by jailors who had demonstrated little enough of it. It was again water and food, this time a meal more suited to a palate s/he had described the previous day. It looked - and tasted – like a hearty vegetable stew, complete with a slice of bread and water to wash it all down. The meal was devoured this time, a raw feeling of hunger overwhelming hir after the first bite. S/he felt distinctly sleepy afterwards and with a yawn, R’Rori found hir way back to the bed and slept.

[Day 5 | 2100 hours | Observation Pen]

R’Rori had finally ventured to take off the hospital gown to inspect hir torso in more detail following a meal. Without hir fur, the bare skin had little in the way of protection from the temperature. The gown, as flimsy as it was, was also just enough to keep in some of the body heat. Although the room temperature was set to something normally very comfortable, hir body reacted as if it were cooler initially before adjusting.

There were no sign on hir body of anything that resembled Caitians aside from a grey tail and hir ears. Was it that easy for hir captors to change hir body so fundamentally? It spoke of a breathtaking mastery of genetic engineering and body modification that far surpassed the Federation Science Council’s wildest nightmares. They were also clearly accustomed to doing this with impunity, expressing a familiarity with the process during that initial speech that R’Rori suddenly wondered just how often these aliens had done this and how far afield. It was in the middle of these thoughts, paused during the act of stretching hir arms that the intercom spoke again. It seemed to be the same disembodied, seemingly bored voice from the other day.

"Specimen Eight-Eight-Seven, to conserve your health in wait for memory removal and release, you will be granted some time in larger accommodations together with other specimens. Please bear in mind that disruptive behavior will not be tolerated."

“Huh?” The expression of confusion was short-lived as R’Rori grabbed the gown laying on the bed.

The familiar sound and lights of the containment field for a transport surrounded hir and then deposited hir in a completely different room, one with considerably more people and less furniture. S/he blinked a few times and slowly donned hir gown once more. There were definitely more people here than were on the escape pod with hir, which was both a relief and a mild worry. Were these all survivors from the Endeavour? If they were, what happened to those that didn’t need “Correction”? S/he studied the faces around hir, each displaying varying degrees of emotion. Most, like hir, seemed confused. Some had obviously been crying and others showed evidence of anger. Like the races they had been changed to, each of the room’s new collection of occupants displayed a range of emotions to the changes, both to their bodies and the environment.

Something in hir switched gears as s/he took it all in, the people and the blank space they found themselves in. They were all stuck here together in a grey room with no obvious doors, a hallmark of the holodecks that could be found on Federation starships, but s/he couldn’t find any clear signs of the holoprojectors that would make it fully apparent. It would make sense. The people R’Rori was now surrounded by were similarly familiar but not. There were a couple that were more easily recognized, apparently the product of two species that didn’t change their facial structure much at all. One was notably missing spots R’Rori remembered seeing. He was one of the nurses s/he worked with during the battle.

The change in hir posture was entirely unconscious as age-old habits borne from training and discipline reasserted itself. Hir back straightened, hir ears alerted, and hir tail kept as relaxed as s/he forced hir breathing to be. S/he was the ship’s chief counselor, damnit, and part of hir duties were to keep the crew going for the people in charge. R’Rori cleared hir throat before speaking, hir voice now removed of the soft reflexive purring those most familiar with hir would recall.

“The best first step is likely for us to introduce, or reintroduce, ourselves. We’ve all gone through some … changes, after all. I am Lieutenant R’Rori, ship’s counselor.”

S/he looked around after finishing, wondering who in the handful of survivors would speak up next. If there were other senior officers present, maybe they could even organize an escape attempt before their memories were wiped. R’Rori hirself was dreadfully ill-equipped to lead any such endeavor as hir pacifistic leanings meant hir martial knowledge was kept to a minimum.

[ Lt. Cross | Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant | 2100hrs ] @patches @YasyraTrill @Auctor Lucan

Cross materialized in a large empty room that appeared barren of any features aside from the 4 bare walls. His vision was blurred slightly from the procedure he had just undergone, some final touches to complete his “Correction” the Savi had told him, as well as a few “tests” to confirm the success of the Correction and to update some portions of the Savi’s database. Despite his lack of visual clarity, Cross could make out the shapes of figures moving throughout the large room, apparently wearing gowns much like his own. Cross only partially registered the moving figures and he dropped to the floor. His insides burned slightly as the anesthetic from the procedures the Savi had performed on him wore off. He felt light-headed, and it seemed as though the room was spinning slightly. Cross, on his hands and knees, felt like he would vomit. He retched several times but failed to bring anything up. The retching only served to increase the burning sensation in his gut, as well as make his head spin all the more.

Once the retching stopped and the burning had subsided somewhat Cross squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, hoping to dispel some of the spinning.  Once the room no longer seemed to spin quite so much, Cross allowed himself to slump the rest of the way to the floor, lying prone on the cold surface. He didn’t know this room, having been transported from his Containment Cell to the procedure room, but the Savi had informed him through his post-procedure haze that due to their deteriorating condition he and several other “subjects” were being transferred to an Observation Pen.

Cross squeezed his eyes shut and tried to stop the fear that was welling up inside of him, tried to push away the horror of his current situation. He was a test subject once again, just like in the Cardassian camp where he was born. He was prisoner A17338961 again, without a name, without an identity beyond the number. The Savi had assigned him a subject number, but Cross’ reeling mind had failed to take it in. All he knew was that he was an experiment again.

He was in hell.

How long had he been here? All sense of time had been lost since the escape pod. Being sedated, poked, prodded, probed, Corrected, sedated again, beamed all over the place and tested some more had completely disoriented him. The fact that his mind was constantly racing, reliving the memories on his youth that usually occupied his nightmares, which now seemed to be waking nightmares as well, only added to his disorientation.

Cross suddenly started as a hand touched his left shoulder. He rolled away from the contact, bringing himself up into a kneeling position. He growled, teeth bared, expecting to see a Cardassian or Savi scientist before him, unsure of which he really expected, unsure of where he truly was. Instead he found himself facing a small Trill woman clad in the same type of medical gown Cross himself wore. The spots that adorned the pale skin running down from the woman’s dirty blonde hair and under the gown were much darker and more pronounced than Cross remembered, but the angluar face and large eyes of Petty Officer Sarah Narelle was otherwise unchanged. Cross stared at the Tactical NCO who crouched in front of him for a moment, disbelief momentarily throwing a wrench in the working of his mind. The snarl faded from his face, replaced with incredulity, as PO Narelle spoke.

“Are you alright? I saw you get beamed in and… Lieutenant Cross?” Narelle spoke softly, her voice trembling slightly with uncertainty. Her hand still hovered in mid air, suspended in the place where she had reached out and touched his shoulder. “Is… Is that you sir? You look…” Narelle hesitated, eyes searching the face that resembled her old CO’s so closely yet at the same time looked so different. Her hand drifted down to her side. “You look… different.”

Cross’ mind, still reeling from the panic that had gripped him moments ago, seemed to snap into focus. Petty Officer Narelle. From the Endeavour. At least one other escape pod must have made it away from the Borg.

Only to be picked up and brought here… Cross thought bitterly.

“It’s me, PO.” Cross’ thoughts raced as he spoke. How many others were here? How many more had survived the fall of the Endeavour? How many had these Savi gotten their creepy, elongated hands on? Had they all been Corrected? “You don’t look much different, though your spots are much darker.”

“These aliens…” Narelle hesitated, “They had me in some sort of tube. I was floating in liquid. They made me pick between being Human and Trill. They said if I didn’t I would be…” The NCO shuddered slightly before she continued. “They changed me.” Cross stared at Narelle, wondering how much his own appearance had changed following his choice. His emotions certainly had, and he could only assume his physical changes were just as drastic. Cross slowly raised his hand and ran it up over his face, feeling the smooth skin of his chin, his cheeks, his… nose?

They removed the Bajoran part of me… Cross thought to himself, remembering the choice he had made while floating in the tube, not having thought to investigate the exterior changes before. He had been so wrapped up in trying to tame the tempest of his new emotions, having meditated for countless hours – Or was it days? - before he had managed a modicum of control, that he hadn’t even considered what they had done to him physically. His hand slid further up his face, past his eyes, before feeling the difference in his eyebrows. Vulcan eyebrows. Great. As if this whole situation didn’t suck enough…


Cross took a deep breath and let his hand fall away from his face. He had to pull himself together, had to assess the situation. He was a Starfleet Tactical Officer. He had a responsibility to the personnel under his command, one of whom was crouching down directly in front of him.

“They made me choose as well. They said I was in violation of the Progenitors, whoever they are. They said they had to correct my mixed biology.” Cross grimaced at the memory of the bored, clinical manner with which the Savi had delivered his speech and offered the choice. “How many others are here, PO?” Cross asked, looking around the large room. The Observation Pen, the Savi had called it. “How many from the Endeavour?”

“I… I don’t know, sir.” PO Narelle hesitated for a moment, looking around the pen, “There were five of us in our escape pod, but I’ve only seen one of them since I was placed in this room. Ensign Carvin, a security officer. They made him choose too. He’s fully Human now.” Narelle explained as she nodded toward the far side of the pen. Cross saw a male Human slumped against the wall, head hanging forwards. “He’s been sitting like that since I was beamed here about an 20 minutes ago. He used to be half Betazoid. He keeps saying he feels… empty. I haven’t talked to anyone else yet.”

Cross swept his gaze over the rest of the pen, taking in the scene before him. Two or three gown-clad figures walked aimlessly around the room, while others sat in a small group, talking quietly amongst themselves. Three others slumped against the wall like Ensign Carvin. Cross didn’t see anyone who looked very familiar, but judging by what Narelle had said, the choices each had made would have resulted in varying degrees of physical alteration. Cross guessed many of his former Endeavour crewmates wouldn’t be recognizable in their new bodies.

Cross turned his gaze back to Narelle as he opened his mouth to speak. His gaze had dropped slightly, and he found himself looking down at the Trill woman’s bare legs. Her gown had ridden up slightly when she crouched down, and a great deal of her spotted legs were exposed. Cross snapped his mouth shut and his eyes upwards, looking into Narelle’s eyes with fanatical focus, willing himself not to look down again. He clenched his jaw and breathed out sharply, trying to push the image of Sarah Narelle’s toned legs out of his mind. The PO had noticed Cross’ sudden increase in tension and glanced down. Her face reddened noticeably, and she shifted her weight slightly as she adjusted her garment. That done, she looked back up at Cross, giving him a slightly bashful smile. Cross felt his own face flush and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So… Uh… Who else was on the escape pod with you?” Cross fumbled the words, desperate for a change of subject. The ridiculousness of the situation was all too apparent to Cross. Their ship was destroyed, the majority of their crew was in all likelihood dead, and they were prisoners of an alien species who was genetically altering them… and he was feeling embarrassed for getting caught looking at a woman’s legs.

You idiot… Cross scolded himself, marvelling at the ridiculous things people noticed when in bad situations.

“Who? Uh…” PO Narelle stuttered before she managed to compose herself. “There was Crewman T’Bahl, a Vulcan medical orderly. Petty Officer Fletcher, who worked in Operations, and Cadet Simkins, who was on his cadet cruise.” Narelle listed off the names and details at a brisk pace, seeming as though she too was trying to get the previous situation out of her head. “I haven’t seen any of them since we were beamed off the escape pod.”

Cross listened to her report and nodded, making sure not to let his eyes move downward. He rose to his feet and straightened his gown, looking around the room again. The Observation Pen seemed, on further inspection, to be just a large room with absolutely no definable features. Plain ceiling, plain floor, plain walls. No discernible door. Cross turned back to PO Narelle, who had risen from her crouching position and was now standing alongside him.

“Well, PO,” Cross began, tilting his head to look down at the shorter woman. He felt glad that the gown’s neck was high enough not to show any flesh, and therefore saved him from another awkward incident. “I think we…”

Cross stopped mid-sentence as another figure beamed into the barren room. The figured was not wearing a gown, but instead held it in their hand. They slowly put the gown on and seemed to take a moment to compose themselves. The figure seemed not to have been completely corrected yet, ears and a grey tail still marked the person as part Caitian, though they were obviously in some stage of being corrected to something else. Human, if Cross had to guess. The figure straightened up and addressed the room.

“The best first step is likely for us to introduce, or reintroduce, ourselves. We’ve all gone through some… changes, after all. I am Lieutenant R’Rori, ship’s counselor.”  Lt. R’Rori looked around the pen once she finished speaking.

“Well, there’s at least one from my escape pod.” Cross said softly to PO Narelle as they walked towards R’Rori. He had not known the counselor very well on the Endeavour, and had not recognized hir until s/he had identified hirself. Seeing hir mid-correction, fur gone and looking oddly alien, made Cross hate the Savi all the more. Anger was threatening to boil out of control again, and Cross took several deep breaths to calm the roiling emotion as they moved in the counselor’s direction.

Cross spoke as they drew nearer the counselor, loud enough for R’Rori and those nearby to hear. “Counselor, it’s good to see you safe. Or as safe as any of us are under the circumstances…” Cross trailed off, realizing R’Rori may not be able to recognize him. “I’m Lieutenant Cross. This is Petty Officer Narelle.” Cross said, gesturing to the Trill standing next to him. “Have you seen anyone else from our escape pod? I haven’t seen anyone since we were brought here.”

As he waited for R’Rori’s answer, Cross glanced around to see if any of the other familiar-yet-unfamiliar faces would come forward and identify themselves. He tried to identify some of the other occupants of the room who were nearby, but with the physical alterations these Savi had performed on them it wasn’t overly likely he’d be able to recognize anyone unless the corrections only had minor results on their physical appearance, as was the case with Narelle.

[ Lt. JG Khorin Douglas | Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant | 2100hrs ]

Khorin's awareness dimly returned to him. The last thing he remembered was being in a pod, surrounded by some sort of gel, in one of the most uncomfortable positions he had ever been in, which was saying a lot. He almost preferred his trip to the Kri'stak Volcano to his experience within the pod. He remembered selecting the option for Klingon and then... nothing.

Khorin almost sat bolt upright as he had a sudden realization. The creatures said they would give him a choice, between human or Klingon, and he had selected Klingon, what his heart had wanted all his life. Khorin's hand lifted and made its way to his forehead, and felt the ridges there. They were far more defined now, they were of a definition that would make even the proudest of warriors blush. Khorin's heart began to race. They had done it, they had been true to their word, they had made him a full-blooded Klingon warrior. And it wasn't just the ridges, he felt stronger, faster, more powerful. As if he could rip the spine out of the grey-skinned petaQs which had imprisoned him. It was then that a voice rang out.

[Specimen Nine-Two-One, your Correction has been completed.]

Khorin sat up, ignoring the lingering pain in his body. The past few days had been nothing but pain for him it seemed. Not that it bothered him much, Khorin took it as a test of his mettle, which he was passing with flying colors. "Corrected" or not, he still wished to  tear apart the creatures which held him there, and now that he was a full Klingon, he felt that he would be able to, it was simply a matter of time.

[Are you feeling any discomfort? Are you in any pain?]

"I've been in nothing but pain for the last few days, you haven't helped at all." Khorin grumbled as he scanned the room for weaknesses. He was completely at the Savi's mercy, something which didn't sit well with him at all. There had to be a way out, he just had to think, there had to be something he could do.

[Sensors show your body is fully adapted to its new genome. In wait for memory removal and release, you will be transported to an Observation Pen. We remind you to not be disruptive, else you will be considered a threat, and instead be Recycled to feed the Versant.]

Khorin didn't know what the Versant was, but he presumed it was where he was. He growled under his breath as he contemplated the fact that he was helpless against these creatures at the moment. If he was disruptive in any way he could simply be beamed out and recycled, something which enraged him greatly. It felt good to growl, with his new sharpened teeth bared and ready to bite at the soft neck of the grey creatures.

Suddenly, a light began to glimmer around Khorin, and it took only half a second for Khorin to realize that this was a transporter beam much like that which was used to transport him to this vessel in the first place. "No, not again!" He protested, as he dematerialized into the beam.

Khorin found himself reappearing in a room full of people, of various species and faces. He didn't recognize most of them, but all were clearly in the same position that he was in. He was trapped in a room with no obvious doors or exits, with unfamiliar faces and a situation he couldn't obviously escape from. Someone in the room was introducing hirself, but Khorin didn't care. He continued to growl and pace the room, clearly agitated and, to put it bluntly, ticked off.

A few more people in the room introduced themselves, which Khorin barely registered. Ultimately, he quit his growl and let out an angry roar, and kicked the wall near him, ignoring the pain that shot up through his foot. Khorin stumbled backwards and turned to the rest of the group of people in the room. He might as well make introductions if he was going to be trapped with these people. "Well..." he grumbled, and turned towards R'Rori and Cross. "If we're all going to introduce ourselves... I am Khorin Doug-" He stopped himself, almost having found himself using his human name. Khorin should not use that name anymore, he was Klingon, no longer some halfblood. "Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai!" he crowed, as he puffed his chest outwards. Khorin felt, for the first time in a long time, that he could be properly proud of his heritage. Perhaps if he could find his way out of this, he could see his brother again, and rub it in.

[ Deacon | Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant | 2100hrs ]

It was not long after he awoke to the horrors of this monkey form that the faceless captors deigned address him in his cell, claiming that the procedure to purify him was more extensive than planned and that his body required some time to adapt and recover from their initial intervention.  A subsequent surgery would be scheduled to complete his so-called restoration in order to maximize his chances of survival.  He could swear that there was more muttered under the breath, insults directed at the ham-fisted treatments to which he'd been originally subjected.  Although he remembered nothing of Dr. Nicander's ministrations, he could recall every excruciating moment of his care at the hands of the kzinti doctors and here, now, he craved their attention.  He would welcome the chance to scream in agony for months on end, if only to be himself once more.

He could feel his heart beating, but compared to what had been the beat of three, it still left him light headed, unstable. 

"You will be transported to an observation pen to assist with your recovery," his captor droned in obvious disinterest, eliciting the thought that had he five minutes alone with the creature, Deacon would ensure an end to its boredom.  Well, its boredom and its life.  He could only assume the dead couldn't be bored.  The thought gave him only the briefest sense of pleasure before the transporter beam snatched him away from his cell to deposit him... elsewhere.

He looked around.  He wasn't alone.  At least, he thought he wasn't.  The faces were wholly unfamiliar, but this was hardly unexpected -- he had such troubles discerning between the monkeys as it was, and now they wore completely different faces.  What was more is they felt... flat?  It was if each of those present was as deep as the holograms that manned the lounge. 

Ziirgah.  The grey skinned bastards had stolen his ziirgah... they'd taken another critical piece of himself.  True it was a piece that he kept hidden from his people, something he practiced quietly.  Had he ever been discovered, it was entirely likely he'd've been stripped of all rank and been forced into service as a telepath.  But it was his, and after fourteen years of keeping the secret of his abilities, it was gone.

A flash ripped through his senses, what had been flat, dull, blazed with searing fire, colors intensifying, scents heavy in his nostril and on his tongue.  So much anger, fear, sorrow, loss, it pushed against his own sense of stability like a tidal wave threatening a fragile sand bar.  Even under the best of circumstances, intense emotions nearby could overwhelm him, but now, he was already overflowing with bitter rage that he couldn't tell where his fury ended and the collective around him began.

And then it ended, leaving him dizzy, his empathic abilities once again silenced.  He stumbled, clutching his head, staggering backward.  He couldn't clear his mind, rational thought seem to lay just out of reach.

Again the spark ignited, his awareness supercharged again like a dangling wire disconnected from the transformer yet caught by the whims of wind and chaos, a haphazard connection that he couldn't control.  The klingon felt... pride, pleasure.  Another human... lost to misery.  Even the leaf-eating vulcan... Deacon pressed his fingers against the sides of his skull, wishing he could reach inside and tear out the part of his brain that continued to misfire, tears streaming down his face, fear, rage, pride, confusion, what was he feeling?  What part of this was him? 

He pressed himself hard against the cold wall, folding down on himself, pushing himself as far as he could from the others.  "No... no no.... stop... stop..."   Was this how they'd break him?  Shatter his sense of self?  Was this intentional?  Part of the 'adaptation' he needed to make?  Did they want him to beg for the memory wipe??

[ K'Ren (http://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=K%27Ren) | Septenary Correctional Lab | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ]

K'Ren wasn't sure how much time passed, she sensed little change in the light levels, expected as she was in a artificial environment, not a natural setting with day and night. Lost in her thoughts, emotions running from fear to anger to hate to curiosity and even peace in it's own measure consumed her time. She hardly cared to look around her cell, through her vision, improved a little since the 'correction', she could see the room was sparse, little evidence of a door or other means of exit, a perfect containment unit.

It was after some time that she heard a familiar hum permeate the room. Looking to where she'd seen the alien open the observation hatch, she saw a plate materialize with a glass of clear fluid and a hunk of some indistinct looking food product. Approaching it, the food resembled the Alien, grey and bland, though a new emotion, or rather feeling welled up inside as she looked at the plate, hunger.

Sitting down in front of the plate, she lifted it, sniffing at it, wanting to know if it was okay to eat. Even with her heightened sense of smell, she had noticed that quite soon after she was released into this cell, the food still smelled bland. She hadn't expected much from them but poisoned she doubted it was, they seemed intent on fixing her, not killing her. She was hungry and so she took a bite, it was palatable though hardly appatizing, only to quickly wolf down the rest, her hunger taking over.

She looked to the door as she finished eating, wondering if the alien was watching her eat, putting everything down, watching for any sign of movement, anything to tell her the feeling of being watched was true. It was then that she heard a noise and as she glanced towards the noise, she saw the apparatus on the ceiling almost upon her. She hissed in anger, claws extending as she planned to protect herself from the machine. She had little time as the airborne inoculation shot out from the machine, striking her shoulder, eleciting another hiss. She didn't know what was in the shot but she crumpled to the floor, unable to move as the sedative took hold.

[ Day 5 | 2100 hours | Observation Pen ]

Her next memory was of a transporter like beam grabbing her, her cell vanishing into the hazy fog that was the pattern buffer, before her new home came into view as the fog of the transporter beam cleared, leaving her in a larger room, large enough to hold numerous life forms. She wasn't sure how many but right now, she glanced around, hoping for some familiar face but she met none she recognized. Of course that would make sense, most of the creatures in this room were most likely like her, 'corrected' and hardly recognizeable as themselves to others.

K'Ren was unsure how much like herself she looked, she had noticed in her cell that her fur was thicker, covered more, most if not all her body. She was also naked, none had been provided after she'd awoken, though clothes were only a nod to the hairless species that populated the galaxy, Monkey Modesty someone had called it. Now she didn't need clothes, though she felt a little immodest if she were honest, habits are hard to break.

Moving to find a spot she could sit, hoping somebody who knew her would poke their face over, or a freindly random person at least, K'Ren awaited what came next. She could see a few hushed whispers on lips as small groups, voices hard to make out but still clearer then she'd expected. Running a paw over her head, she noticed her ears seemed, more acute? Could a simple genetic alternation affect her this much, give her better eyesight and hearing? Had she been that limited compared to her mother?

Her own thoughts however were broken as she heard another transporter beam whine and deposit another creature near the wall of the room they were corraled in. She hadn't meant to pay much attention to the new person, but seeing a Human materialize, a familiar human though she couldn't say why, materiliaze with a tail and ears still intact, looking rather ungainly and awkward, curiosity got the better of her. Moving closer to him, a bit cautious, the familiarity growing on her as she came close.

She couldn't explain why he felt familiar, not at first, but as she got closer, she could feel an emotional tug from this stranger, something strong drawing her to him. Moving to his side, she placed her paw on him, trying not to startle him. "Deacon?" was all she could ask, his response would speak volumes.

[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sarresh_Morali) | Containment Cell | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ]
[Show/Hide]
Consciousness came slowly to Sarresh Morali, slowly and with a creeping hollowness that would not go way. This time, there was no searing pain in his skull at least, though the memory of it - the extraction - remained firmly entrenched. He almost did not wish to try to open them - his eyes. For the second time in his life, Sarresh had witnessed the loss of his vision. First had been in the Theta Endrani system, shortly after his 'posting' to the bedraggled USS Theurgy, in the wake of the Calamity's orbital assault. Acid had seeped in through the porous membrane that was his skin, and worked its way to his eyes, corroding them into mush from the inside out.

He'd later awoken, days past, to find himself in an alien (human) body and with artificial ocular implants, harvested from the corpse of another ships doctor. The implants had been quite useful, if Sarresh were someone pron to admitting such things. He missed the eyes he'd been born with. Ocular implants with a constant scroll of medical data were nice, once he got a better feel for what the readings mean. But they were not his eyes. They were simply another reminder of the burden he bore.

And then....in the tender mercies of the Savi, even those were ripped away.

A shudder ripped down his body. at the thought, as the former Ash'reem fought off  the fear he felt and forced his eyes opened to see.....to see that same containment cell from before the extraction and the subsequent immersion - blind - in a new re-sequencing pod. He blinked rapidly, as be adjusted to vision - real vision, not artificial. Sarresh had eyes again.

It was overwhelming at first. He shut them and felt tears fall from the corners. They were hot on his cheeks, and that in and of itself lead to second revelation. One that twisted in his gut. In the pod, they had offered....had asked a preference. And he had taken it. A chance to be Ash'reem again. A chance to be whole...which he now was.....but a chance to be himself.

Ash'reem had tear ducts and they could cry. But their tears were cold. Almost, but not quite like ice. These were hot tears that dripped down his cheeks, and stole the joy of having sight again - real site - from his breast, leaving him with the crushed realization of what had been done. 

Pain and sorrow echoed in the scream that emptied out of Sarresh's mouth. His very human mouth. He had a chance to recover what he was and these bastards had robbed him of that. And if their words, as he'd floated blind in the pod, were to be true, they would try to rob him of his memories, His identity.  He fell to the floor, to his knees - pink, ugly knees, so what if Sel liked them - and gasped down a heaping breath, his lungs feeling seared by the cry.

Only then did he realize that one of the Savi had been outside the cell, watching, and recording. It ignored him, for the most part, until Sarresh was on his knees, sucking air. Then, the sickly voice of the alien's filled his head. "Species nine-zero-six," It beckoned him. "Your re-sequencing has been processed. While we noted, per accordance with our ways, the preference listed by yourself, your body had been far too transformed into this Human state already to be repaired and converted to your previous condition."

"Regrettable, but you have been corrected none the less. Your vision has been restored to the baseline version for the chosen species." It looked down at him with empty eyes. "and now that the process has completed, you will be released to mingle with others of your kind."

"My kind?" Sarresh asked in a mix of anger and confusion. "MY KIND?! You robbed me of my KIND you bug eyes son - "

[Observation Pen]

" - of a bitch!!" The transport effect left Sarresh naked, on the floor, in front of a group of other sentient captives, most of which he did not recognize.

"Godsdammit," he swore, pushing himself up off the floor, bare as the day he'd been born - if looking nothing like the web footed man he'd been.

[ Deacon | Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant | 2100hrs ] Attn: @SummerDawn and others present

He could feel the emotions of those around him, gathering close, growing stronger with every encroaching inch until they threatened to crowd out his own feelings, to crush him under a tidal flow of rage, fear, sorrow, isolation.  And then, with a snap, the sensation fell away again, without rhythm, without cadence.  He couldn't predict the ebb and flow of his own mind, and he was already so angry, so embittered that he could no longer tell what came from without and what from within, as if each passing moment of empathic awareness was little more than an echo chamber projecting back at him.

A touch on his shoulder drew his attention, a deep sense of dread and shame welling up from the depths of his stomach.  No matter what, he'd prided himself on his control, his assurance that he could single handedly face anything with unflinching confidence.  But that was then, that was before.  Now... now he could scarcely lift his head.  To be seen as he was, mutilated as he was, a wreck in both thought and feeling, his pride could handle only so much insult.

Again, the spark ignited, and again the tidal wave of emotions crashed into him, but there was something new.  The touch was sad, confused, but there was a strength, a feeling of concern... love.  "Deacon?"

Slowly he lifted his head, his clenched fingers withdrawing from the sides, no longer attempting to plunge into the depths of his mind to tear the thoughts from his skull.  His eyes, once gold, now half-tinged with blue, met K'Ren's features, tears still streaming down his all too human face, becoming caught in the line of stubble along his jaw.  If not for the curious coloration of his eyes, the slight tip to his ears, the fang-like incisors, faint subdermal striping and the long tail that still hung from the base of his spine, he might otherwise pass as an Earth native... so very little of the kzin remained.

Trembling, he ran his hand along K'Ren's face before he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face against her chest.  "I.. I can't control..." he tried to explain, "can't focus.  Too many feelings, too many, too close.  Can't shut them out, then nothing, then everything."  The silence came once more, allowing him to look up.  "I don't want to lose you..."

[ Echtand qi Versant | The Voice's Residential Quarters | Precept-ship Versant ]
[Show/Hide]By the time all the specimens had been allocated to the Observation Pen, it was stated in the Code that the Voice of the Savi were to address them. It was, however, not customary that the Savi with that position on a Precept ship had to fulfil such a task, but given the present circumstances, where the ship's propulsion systems had yet to be repaired and the specimens couldn't be released, it was Echtand's allotted duty - as the Voice - to assist the Correction Program.

Therefore, he had pulled up the old transcript on his tablet, read it once to memorise it, and then activated the holographic camera on his tablet. Even if he was standing in his spacious office, his upper body and head was projected as a holographic image that spanned from the deck to the deckhead in the Observation Pen. He was confident his large image in the Pen would serve to catch the attention of all specimens that had been gathered there, but if not, his amplified voice would be heard reverberating in the bulkheads. He had, of course, also activated the translator.

"My name is Echtand qi Versant, and I am the Voice of the Savi," he said, and even if his tone was quiet, it would be heard loudly across the whole area, "You have been gathered where you are in wait for Memory Correction. It is the last stage of Correction before release. At any point, those that still need further Correction will eventually be removed from this area to complete the biological part of the process. In the interest of keeping you healthy, you will no longer be kept in containment. Instead, you will spend your remaining time in our care in this area. To provide for your needs, and stimulate your senses, you will be kept in a holographic program that should be a known environment for you all. For the duration of the program's runtime, any food or drink you ingest will have nutritional value, but you will not be able to cause harm or hurt yourself with the use of the program's parameters."

Echtand raised a finger to the datapad in his hand, tapped it, and made the entire Observation Pen turn into a holographic representation of a Sovreign-class shuttle bay. It was complete with crew, sounds, smells and as real as if they had suddenly been transported unto a Federation ship. Echtand was confident that the specimens would feel more at home on a starship, so even if the chosen ship was no longer in service, it ought to be adequate for them. The Savi working in Correction had, after all, created the program from the data foraged from other ships, down to every little detail. Echtand was no fool. of course, knowing they might have gotten some thing wrong, but it would serve as a temporary containment solution for the Corrected crewmembers of the Theurgy and the Endeavour.

"Preserve your health with rest, by eating and getting exercise for your new bodies. Conform to the duties allotted to you in the program, and integrate with the holographic crew. Please bear in mind, however, that if you do not conform to your new confinement," said Echtand, still projected inside the shuttle bay, "you will be deemed a threat to yourself and other specimens, and you will be Recycled." Having said this, he terminated his feed, thinking - just for a moment - that the transcript hadn't even taken into account that the crew might pose a threat to the Versant, but then again, how could they? No foraged specimens had ever managed to escape from their pens or cells.

As he put his tablet aside, he found himself thinking about his parents again. Why did they linger in his mind? Was it because the High Council was about to convene, and likely authorise Semathal's request to deviate from the Code? There were only Scions in the High Council now, and Echtand couldn't see why they would deny the request to Recycle all specimens in the biolabs and the Correction Program. Was it because he had just spoken to those very specimens, knowing that they might spend their last day in that holographic program? Did he really feel that strongly about the Code, and carrying on the work of the Progenitors? Or was it something else?

The image that kept returning to him... was the sight of the Aspect Maker in the Scion's Nest. In female form, it had looked at him from out of its quantum stasis field, savaged and bloodied by Semathal, and in its eyes...

In its eyes, Echtand saw the look of his mother before she was led to the biolabs. He could even see it in his father, bruised and bloodied as he'd been when he tried to resist. Before they gave him that look, they had called his name... and he'd been too young, to indoctrinated by the Code to answer, hiding behind his Decataria. That was why. That was why the Code mattered. It lent conformity, strength, and resolve. With the Code's support, he was better than his parents. He was free. Respected. Or...

...was it just that he felt safe?

Was this the source of his doubt? Echtand wanted to reject the hypothesis, but he couldn't. He hissed as he paced his office, his capacious mind making him ask questions best unsaid. Stop it. There are no findings to be made. Nothing of merit! Yet if the Code could be infringed upon, even if it was older than the Scion Directive, would he still be safe?

---

[ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Shuttle Bay | Deck 03 | Stardate 55606.41 ]

"Over here, over here," called Chief O'Brien, waving for the newly arrived crew to come over. He was standing with the Quartermaster and others in Operations, ready to help the newcomers to settle in. There was a long table set up, with bundles of replicated uniforms to collect.

"Come now, don't be shy. I have heard you've had a rough ride, but now you are here," he continued to call, starting to deal out the bundles to the people before them, "To learn where your quarters are at, check your PADDs. Petty Officer Benson have those, and you can collected them from him. Come now, it's time to settle in and report to duty."

Outside the bay doors, the Azure Nebula could no longer be seen, but a pitch black vista of space, dotted with lonesome stars.

---

OOC: Here we go! I decided not to wait for the stragglers. Any who have yet to post in the Pen can catch up.

Mission Objectives:
 - Explore the Enterprise and its characters as much as you like
 - Bonding between the Theurgy and Endeavour crewmembers
 - Work with the other Abductees to make plans for an escape (or not)
 - Provoke the Savi (or not)
 - Find a way to make contact with Blue Tiran or the other specimens in the biolabs

Click to see a list of holographic crew to interact with on the Enterprise-E, depicted in January of 2379 (SD 55606.41), before the events of Nemesis: [Show/Hide]

[Lt R'Rori | Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant | 2100hrs ] @SummerDawn @steelphoenix & co.

R’Rori stood patiently as quite a few of the others introduced themselves, nodding in understanding. The Chief Tactical Officer had made it. Good. He would be invaluable in coordinating any resistance or escape efforts by the crew. Thought s/he privately hoped it wouldn’t get to that, as resistance meant near certain death, the counselor knew the crew too well to put aside the very real possibility that they would seek their own escape before the memory wipe. It would be ideal if such things were led by people trained and well-placed within the Starfleet hierarchy for it.

“It is good to see you too, Lieutenant Cross. I’m glad that more of us made it here than I hoped.”

It was hard to hide hir smile as the Klingon announced his presence. The Klingons were a boisterous people and this one was apparently no exception to that rule. It was notable to hir, however, that he was not a member of the Endeavour and s/he quickly noticed when two others beamed in with similarly feline features to hirs – one clearly a fully transitioned Caitian and one that looked like a humanoid mix interestingly similar to hir state. Had they run into another felinoid hybrid to change to human? The figure slumped against the wall, his face clearly showing something was wrong with him.

S/he moved quickly to him, moving around the naked man that beamed in after the female Caitian found him first. R’Rori made sure to move deliberately and predictably as s/he got closer, not wanting to spook either of them. Hir training had reinforced this when dealing with unknown people in a possible mental health crisis and then wrapped it all up neatly with an admonition to use their best judgement. Hir ears picked up most of what the one in crisis said in response and hir mind zeroed in on one phrase in particular.

“too many feelings, too many, too close” … An empath then.

Empaths and telepaths were part of hir clientele, naturally. It wouldn’t be hir first rodeo with one, but the feline feature s/he could see on him were not of any Federation species or culture s/he could remember. He was clearly not a touch empath, given his statement. S/he ran through everything in hir head. Apparently, the Caitian knew him and had some sort of prior relationship. That was good. It could be useful here.

R’Rori walked closer until s/he was nearly next to the Caitian woman, taking a long moment to clear hir mind and force it to be calm and steady. Hir mental state needed to be stable enough for him to grasp. Hello, I’m R’Rori, one of the counselors from the Endeavour. If I may?”

S/he held hir hands out for the empath, both to show s/he was unarmed and for him to grab if he chose to. Hir posture was kept deliberately nonthreatening without showing fear or distress. It was a fine line to walk and s/he could only hope s/he was getting it right. Some were touch-repulsed while others felt it necessary or more comforting.

“If you can, focus on me and on my emotions. Remember who you are, what you are. It’ll be okay. You’re safe with us.”

The counselor glanced over at the woman next to hir. “Do you know him?”

S/he deliberately ignored the changing scenery around hir as the holographic environment changed, though hir ears did flicker momentarily at the sound of a man speaking loudly to the crowd. Apparently, their captors had finally deigned to give them something to do. A Federation ship was probably their wisest choice, being familiar to the members of Starfleet they had kidnapped and forcibly changed. The crowd was big enough at this time to allow R'Rori at least a few moments to calm down the other not-quite-human cat.

[Ensign Okhala | Day 5| Observation Pen | Precept-ship Versant | 2100hrs ] Attn: @Fife @patches @Auctor Lucan

As the familiar but drug hazed feeling of being transported hit her Laurel groaned. Since her escape attempt the first day of being fully Romulan, the Savi had kept her heavily sedated. If she concentrated hard enough she could remember the encounter.

[Flashback]
Cold and angry to an extent she had never before felt, coupled with the despair at knowing that the monsters behind it were also lead to Egon being recycled, had left her new emotional heights that lead to her singleminded attempt to murder every grey hostile she could find. Her mind and paranoia had allowed her to find the only access port to the room. The hatch in the ceiling that had allowed for her food and medication. Using the slab of a table meant for a bed and her new Romulan strength, it had taken very little for Laurel to get the panel open. She had not counted on the alarm blaring to life in her cell however.

She had wondered, vaguely, at the time, if she had still been suffering from the concussion, or if the headache had been brought on by her newly enhanced senses. Regardless, the new shrieking sound had sent her to her knees as surely as if they had punched her. Her ears rang and she was sure that they had to have bled by the time sound stopped.

They left her like that, after informing her that such an attempt in the future would be met with hash punishment. She figured they meant that she would be recycled. Honestly, if it meant the world would be quiet and not so bright and not so cold, she might consider it a blessing.

Relief had come in the form of the day/night cycle the Savi seemed to offer her, the lights dimmed and she could finally open her eyes without her head screaming at her to keep them shut. The pounding in her head finally, for the first time since the Borg had attacked them, was blissfully alone with her thoughts, unaccompanied by the drums in her temples. Just as she was finally able to gain control of her thoughts and feelings however, she noticed the hatch she had ripped open earlier, repairing itself and extending a rather wicked looking hypospray. Fear caused her stomach to clench unpleasantly and she tried to back away from the equipment, despite knowing that there was no where to run.

Remembering some long forgotten tidbit of imparted knowledge, she managed to slip the devices first jab at her and get the chord wrapped around her arm to control its movements, so focussed on the immediate danger however, she missed a second device entering the space and stabbing her while her attention was elsewhere.

Her strength had fled her, and she was barely aware as she was transported to some lab elsewhere aboard the accursed ship. Her mind floated and her impotent emotions ran wild as her body refused to respond.

[End Flashback]

She had been constantly under the effects since, if she ever had a hint of coming out of it, they put her under again. She was vaguely aware of a feeding tube being inserted at some point, when it became obvious to her captors that she was not lucid enough to eat on her own. She communicated mostly in grunts and cries and growled Romulan phrases, she thinks she remembers her father getting scolded for using when she was small.

She could scarcely protest when they inform her she is being moved again, and made no move to get up when she was moved to another room. Laurel, though the most lucid she had been in days, had lost some of her fight over the last ages she had been drugged. She hadn't had contact with any of the other crew from the escape pod, if they were even alive, and it was becoming painfully obvious, that she would not be able to escape on her own. She was aware of other people around her just based on the increase of noise, she had learned over her time under sedation, that it was best to allow her eyes to adjust slowly, unless the Savi made her open them sooner. The pain was less that way and it kept her mind, just that little bit more focussed.

Gradually, she recognized that she heard people speaking Federation Standard, not just the Savi's weird translated form but real Standard, and her eyes snapped open in surprise. It hurt but the adrenaline rush of possible allies allowed her the clarity to push through it. She was on a holodeck? With humans and . . . was that a Vulcan?

Paranoia swamped her like an old friend, this had to be a trick. It was a simulation, meant to set her at ease, give her hope. She wouldn't fall for it. She was the daughter of a member of Starfleet Intelligence and former Tal Shiar operative, if they thought this little trick was going to be better than sedating her they were wrong. She could feel that wave of rage, which had been kept at bay by drugs, burning off the effects of those same drugs as she stood and backed herself to a wall and dropped into a defensive stance.

[ K'Ren (http://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=K%27Ren) | Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant | 2100hrs ] Attn: @patches @steelphoenix @patches @anyone
[Show/Hide]
It only took her a moment to realize it was him, her Deacon, the scent, the voice, was right even if the man pulling close to her was human, human except for the vestigal remains of his K'Zin half. She held him close, letting him bury his head and face into her fur, held him close almost as a mother might a frightened cub. Gently stroking his now hair covered head, she gently caressed the scruff of his neck, hoping the one thing she knew could calm him would actually work in this form. "I'm here Deacon, I'm not leaving." she whispered in his ear.

She glanced up mere moments later to see another human, apparently suffering a similar fate as Deacon, her feline heritage stripped from her, at least the ears and tail seemed to suggest this. The fur rose on the back of her neck at first as the unidentified female feline approached. Unsure what species they might be, and what they might desire with him, her muscles tensed, ready to fend her off. It was only as the women approached in a non-threnetening way calling herself R'Rori, definitely Caitian by the name, identified herself as a counselor. "He is my mate R'Rori," She nuzzled Deacon a little, hoping to comfort him. "My K'Zintosh."

It was only as she turned her attention back to R'Rori, that she noticed the surroundings had changed, become somewhat familiar, at least in that they looked more like a Starfleet vessel, though this was an illusion, another way to pen them up until the Savi finished wiping her memories, removing any trace of her life before now. But that was the world around her, more immediately her focus was on her mate. "My K'Zintosh and sire of my cubs until they took even that small comfort from me."

[ Deacon | Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant | 2100hrs ] Attn: @SummerDawn @patches

Held in K'Ren's arms, she could feel his body relax as she kneaded the bundle of muscles at the base of his neck, and while they were considerably less flexible than they had been before his 'correction', he seemed to respond, either by conditioning or act of will, to her touch.  As the second female approached, he withdrew slightly, wary of another so close, although entwined as he was with his mate, the momentary flashes that bled through were defensive, protective, caring.

He looked up at the new comer -- R'Rori she said her name was -- asking him to focus only on her and her emotions.  Concern?  It was hard to tell.  His mind and senses felt upside down.  Everything he knew to keep his thoughts to himself, everything he'd taught himself to differentiate his feelings from those around him was as effective as tissue before the storm.  Feelings in the pen were raw, and taxing as it may have been, he could have stood his grounds against them, the constant onslaught countered by unwavering diligence -- a bolstering of his own emotional state that could barricade the door to his mind.  But whatever process these creatures had used to change his body has partially severed that emotional awareness, and with no consistent emotional feed, his defenses faltered, unable to anticipate the seemingly chaotic onslaught.

Focus on her?  He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and rest, to have uninterrupted silence in his head, the ability to hear his own thoughts.  His only way to cope... to figure things out... to be in control... He hated this place.  He hated himself... this naked monkey flesh and how weak it had made him. 

The two spoke around him, even as the very pen seemed to shift and change, taking a new holographic design.  He wanted nothing to do with any of it.

"My K'Zintosh and sire of my cubs until they took even that small comfort from me."

Deacon seized, his every muscle tensing.  The rage had returned.  They had violated his mate.  And he had been wallowing in self-pity, weakness.  He raised his head, unsure if what he felt was his own fury or the combination of those around him... it no longer mattered.  Baring his fangs, he flexed his fingers as if to unsheathe phantom claws.  "Kill them..." he said, his voice a scarcely audible growl, "I'm going to kill them all..."

Vague images of the grey skinned creatures choking on their own blood played across his chaotic mindscape, a nightmare canvas where he painted the walls of the ship in their viscera, carving a path of destruction, a testament of his love, his fury.  A reinforcement of the proper order of hunter and prey.  He would write a new gospel of the Fanged God that would make these creatures think twice before ever setting sights on the kzinti again.

He rose, unsteady, his visage dark with murderous intent, limbs taught and ready to strike, eyes searching for a viable target.  He could taste blood now, salty, draining across his lips, but it wasn't the sickly grey green he imagined would flow their captors... it was a deep crimson color.  Lifting his fingers, to his mouth, he wiped at the flow of blood that was now falling from his nose, feeling light headed, his single heart unable to maintain the rage, his body betraying his desire, causing him to collapse to his knees, head lowered.  "I ... don't feel well..."

[ Lt. Cross | Day 5 | Observation Pen/USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Shuttle Bay ] @Auctor Lucan @YasyraTrill @patches @steelphoenix @SummerDawn @Brutus @Hastata-Nerada Anyone Else

So the room was a holodeck… Cross thought as he looked around the newly materialized shuttle bay. The holographic torso and head of the “Voice of the Savi” had said they would be here for the remainder of their time in the Savi’s “care”. And they were expected to play along with the holoprogram. Cross could have laughed. Or spit. The Savi’s “care” seemed no better than the “tender ministrations” he’d received from the Cardassians years ago. The thought raised goosebumps on Cross’ skin. Or it could be the cold air in the room. Anger at the Savi’s arrogance threatened to overpower Cross’ already wavering control, and Cross had to concentrate to unclench his jaw and stop himself from lashing out. He took a deep breath and forced his concentration back to their current situation.

Cross had seen more occupants get beamed in before the holodeck had been activated. Now, rather than being barely covered test subjects in an observation pen, they were barely covered test subjects in a holographic shuttle bay. Lt. R’Rori had made her was towards a pair of new arrivals that Cross didn’t recognize. One appeared to be fully Caitian, while the other appeared to be in the same state of transition that R’Rori was. There was a Klingon who had introduced himself as Khorin, and a human who had materialized mid-curse. A Romulan had beamed in and was now against the wall looking like she thought she would be attacked at any moment. The Romulan looked vaguely familiar to Cross, and then it clicked.

Ensign Okhala? Cross thought he could see the Ensign’s features through the alterations. Like himself, there was not a huge difference between their hybrid selves and their “corrected” selves. Not physically at least. Cross wondered if Ensign Okhala was having the same emotional battle that Cross himself was fighting in his own head.

“PO, go grab uniform bundles from the holograms.” Cross said as he turned to face PO Narelle, “Get yourself dressed and bring two uniforms over. I’m going to go talk to our Romulan friend.” Once Narelle had acknowledged the orders and moved off towards the Quartermaster’s table, Cross turned and approached the Romulan. He kept his movements slow and non-threatening, making sure not to provoke the obviously defensive Romulan woman.

“Ensign Okhala?” Cross asked as he got closer, stopping a few meters away. Now that he was closer he could see the familiar features of the CONN officer in the corrected Romulan in front of him. “Easy, Ensign. It’s Lieutenant Cross. Lieutenant R’Rori is here too. Have you seen any of the others?” PO Narelle approached still wearing her gown and carrying three uniforms. She handed Cross two of the uniform bundles and moved back several paces to change into her own uniform.

“Here Ensign,” Cross said, tossing one of the uniforms at Okhala’s feet, still not quite trusting the defensive stance she held herself in. “If you’re as cold as I feel, you’ll want this.”

[ Lt. JG Hi'Jak (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Hi%27Jak) |  Day 5| Observation Pen | Precept-ship Versant | 2100hrs ] Attn: @SummerDawn  @steelphoenix

Whelp, Jack could safely say he wasn't in the Federation, a few moments to half an hour ago or so he remembered being dick deep in an alien that he couldn't see at the moment, but that wasn't exactly why he knew he wasn't home. Right now he was standing in a shuttlebay, on a Federation ship clearly missing an eye and an arm, and while his mind was still a little hazy with whatever sexual drugs they had pumped into him, which oh man had that been a cathartic rush.

He was currently not being rushed to sickbay. Or being arrested, honestly at this point both would have worked.

"Funny, I've seen holographs of this ship before. Heck I even commanded a Sovergn in one of the tactical simulations I did at the academy, if I had to pick a ship to command this class would have been top of my list." He said with a faint whistle.

Jack walked around for a moment. His garments had been discarded when he had been involved with... oh man he was sure that other creature had a name, but honestly he could not for the life of him remember it aside from the way it had felt. He was pretty sure that the thing had used male pronouns, but it had felt like a females body. Probably he thought, another one of the Savi experiments.

He picked up a uniform and started to dress, ditching the underwear, at this point it was just what he had gotten used too for the last few days, but still having clothing on felt better, though it was awkward trying to dress himself with just one arm.

Catching up with the others he was still a little light headed, so when someone referred to a human as deacon, Jack turned his good eye towards the man. "Wait, Deacon? As in my favorite bar tender?"

He looked around for a moment. "Got any dark rum, I could use a barrel full at the moment." Jack spoke, but his voice, and most of his other features had been changed, with his light blond hair rather than dark, his blue eyes shifted green like his mothers, he was a bit more pale, a bit more haggered, and of course the biggest difference of all, the lack of ridges along his forehead. He looked at the cat girl. "I don't think we have ever meet, I'm Jack."

[Show/Hide]

[Ensign Okhala | Day 5 | Observation Pen/USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Shuttle Bay] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Fife @patches @steelphoenix @SummerDawn @Brutus @Hastata-Nerada and anyone else I missed :/

Laurel startled a little when the surroundings changed again after some Savi bullshit explanation, that her hypersensitive hearing was having a hard time deciphering through the haze of drugs and anger. It looked like a Federation ship, it smelled, sounded and felt like a Federation ship, but it wasn't. A part of her mind recognized that backing herself into a corner was not the best move, but the idea that someone might sneak up behind her was worse. Not that a wall, especially a fake wall, would help her much against the Savi,  a flash of memory of when they showed her footage of Egon in an attempt to break her. She snapped that part of her brain closed. She could not process that now. That was for later when she was safe . . . or dead.

Desperate for a distraction she glanced around and took notice that some of the "people" were dressed like her, half naked in medical gowns and some were in uniform. One of the "men" in a gown approached her. It took her a minute to understand what he was saying . . .he was Vulcan. He said he was . . . Cross? They had altered him.

She fought her emotional need to feel relief, if he was real . . . But it was a trick, she couldn't let them trick her like this. He was talking to her, asking her questions. Her sluggish mind railed at its inability to keep up. He threw a wad of material at her feet. He said something about being cold. She was. She hadn't been warm since they corrected her . . . it wouldn't be so bad to accept this one kindness would it? She knelt not taking her eyes off of Cross or the new crew member that had approached them. Quickly snatching the clothing before it was taken from her.

Swiftly and as efficiently as she could, she slid the uniform on underneath and over the gown. A technique her sister had taught her when she was starting gym class in high school. Covered for the first time in she didn't know how long, she allowed the added warmth to sink into her stiff joints and muscles. For the first time she noticed the track marks on her arm from where they had injected the cocktail of sedatives over however long she had been out of it. The rage tried to surge again as she ran one hand over the opposite arm. She looked like a junkie. Once she had pulled the gown off, she tossed it to the ground as if it had personally offended her. As more of her senses returned she was able to take notice of the niggling gagging feeling from her nose and throat. The feeding tube. Laurel could feel hot angry tears spring into her eyes as she reached up, with shaking hands and gripped the end of the tube. She gagged and retched as she tugged the tube up and out her nose and throat both feeling raw and irritated once it was done.

After the need to vomit passed, Laurel realized that she had taken her eyes off of the potential enemies and shot her eyes back up to observe the potential hostiles. She wasn't sure what the Savi were trying to accomplish with this test . . . they had been there before the simulation started hadn't they? Did that mean that Cross was real? Her mind struggled to through off the rest of the drugs. She couldn't think straight, what if he was real? A frustrated growl made it past her clenched teeth. "Are you real?" Talking hurt her newly tube-free throat was scratchy and it felt like she had eaten a whole bowl of spicy curry and attempted to gargle with it. A hand twitched to reach up and soothe. She put a halt to it, no revealing weaknesses until she was sure they were real. Nothing the Savi could use as information to control her.

[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sarresh_Morali) | Observation Pen/USS Enterprise NCC 1701-E | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn:
[Show/Hide]
Looking around, Sarresh's dark, human eyes told him nothing about the environment - ambient temperature and such - nor anything about the people he'd been lobbed in with. No heart rate, nor blood pressure, species, or sex.  He did discern that he had no clothes and almost no one else was properly covered. And then the whole room changed, assaulting his senses as the familiarity of a Federation Starship seemed to blot out the alien nature of the Savi. Save for the talking head, warning them to behave and participate in the simulation, or be recycled.

An involuntary shudder passed over Sarresh as he recalled the fate of the poor individual in the pod across from his when he first beamed in. "Damn them all to hell, I don't have time for this bullshit." He muttered the words, but they were half hearted. Sarresh wasn't about to get himself flushed down the drain.

Putting aside his disdain for the moment, Sarresh bent and dusted off his knees. He didn't care if anyone was going to sneak a peek at what was on display. But it was damned cold in the room. Scowling about, he looked to the left and right, trying to see a familiar face - and failing. It dawned on him that his inability to socialized was going to leave him with almost no real connections in life. He had Sel though. That was more than he though he'd have after Theta Endarni IV. The trick was to get back to her, and the Theurgy and then, oh, say, deal with the damned snakes in the grass that was Starfleet Command.

Easy enough he thought as he strode past a man with one arm and one eye, who claimed to be called Jack, and a few furry faced folk he barely recognized, and made his way over to the table with the uniforms. He crossed his arms and looked at the hologram. Something about the 'man's' face looked strikingly familiar.

"Miles O'Brien." He didn't know how he knew the name, just that he knew it. And that told him all he needed to know, come to think of it. A frown passed over Sarresh' face. Now you start to work you little piece of shit? he thought to himself, or more accurately, to the Memory Engram encoding that had been performed. Some nugget of recognition from a file read far in the future had trickled down onto his brain. But O'Brien had been assigned to some Starbase...,and then later....Cardassia, hadn't he? Or something like that.

He shook his head again, more confused then he had been before. It certainly didn't help that the hologram seemed to hear him use its name, and turn to him, quizzically.

---

OOC: Possible tag to anyone that wants to NPC O'Brien. Or anyone that happened to hear Sarresh say it. Not sure where exactly this will lead.

[ Lt. Cross | Day 5 | Observation Pen/USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Shuttle Bay ] @Auctor Lucan @YasyraTrill @patches @steelphoenix @SummerDawn @Hastata-Nerada @Brutus Anyone else...

Cross had retrieved the pants out from his own clothing bundle and dropped the rest on the deck of the shuttle bay. He donned the pants as Ensign Okhala got dressed in her own uniform, making sure not to look at the Ensign as she dressed. Cross tossed aside his own medical gown and bent to pick up the standard issue shirt and jacket, noticing that the Savi hadn’t removed the numerous scars that criss-cross his torso when they corrected him. Cross pulled on the shirt and shrugged into the uniform jacket, then turned back to Ensign Okhala in time to see her looking at something on her arms. Then he saw the track marks.

“<Fucking shit>, what did they do to you Okhala?” Cross asked, taking a tentative step towards the Ensign as she reached up and grabbed her face. No, she was grabbing at her nose, at a tube that was protruding from one of her nostrils. Ensign Okhala gagged and retched as she pulled out her feeding tube. Cross winced, knowing the feeling of the tube in his own throat when he had been in the pod.

I didn’t have to pull the <fucking> thing out though… Cross thought as Ensign Okhala finally spoke. Her voice sounded ragged, most likely from the trauma of removing the tube, but it was the words she spoke that gave Cross pause.

Are your real?

Ensign Okhala’s question caught him off guard. He thought he’d been having a rough time under the Savi’s “care”, but it seemed Okhala had been having a much rougher go of it. The fact that the Savi had violated and changed them was bad enough. That they had tortured and tormented one of his crewmates to the point where she wasn’t sure what was real…

His jaw clenched and he took a deep breath, trying to suppress the rage he felt towards their “caretakers”. Cross took several more deep breaths and concentrated, trying to force the anger down, desperately trying to push it away. For a few moments the anger threatened to overwhelm him, but then he finally felt the roiling hatred subside. Having pushed the anger back down to a manageable level, he looked at Okhala again.

“I’m real, Ensign.” Cross said, taking another slow step towards the Romulan woman. He held his hands up at waist height with palms open and facing Okhala, trying to remain as non-threatening as possible so as not to provoke the defensive Ensign. He was only about 2 meters away from her now. “If you need proof, ask me something these Savi <fuckers> wouldn’t know.” Cross thought quickly, racking his brain for something to convince her he wasn’t a Savi hologram. “We were on an away mission a while ago. A survey mission back in January. Ask me something about that. Something only the real Cross would know.”

Cross waited for Ensign Okhala to come up with a question, aware that if she really didn’t know what was real, she might lash out at him without warning. He hoped he could get through to her. They needed to rally everyone together if they were going to find a way out of this before the Savi wiped their memories.

[Lt R'Rori | Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant / USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Shuttle Bay ] @steelphoenix @SummerDawn @Auctor Lucan @Masorin

R’Rori watched in concern as the pair in front of hir interacted. The Caitian had been defensive initially, which s/he understood, but the words K’Ren stated next were alarming not only for their content but for their effects. It seemed the horrors their captors could visit on them were truly not limited.

To have a pregnancy terminated just like that without even knowing it was there…

This was definitely not the best time for K’Ren to have mentioned it, although she was clearly and justifiably very affected by it. R’Rori was in crisis handling mode now, the same thought processes and habits that got hir through the Borg attack somehow. From that same experience, s/he would later have to confront the emotional toll of those words and that was a realization s/he consciously shunted to the side for now. Right now, someone needed hir help.

A quick look around in response to movements brought to mind a correction: Several people likely needed care right now due to the changes forced upon all of them. And mine are only nearly done. What more might they do to me? To us?

Deacon moved and caught hir attention once more. S/he watched as he stood and gasped as s/he saw him collapse following a nosebleed. R’Rori stood up straight quickly in response, closing hir eyes for just a moment as hir body swayed from the sudden movement. S/he moved first to run to the holographic Chief that greeted them when someone approached the group of cats, talking about rum.

"I don't think we have ever meet, I'm Jack." The human said as R’Rori looked back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Er, hi Jack. I’m R’Rori, USS Endeavour.” S/he responded before raising one finger. “You’re … missing an arm. Huh. One moment, though.”

S/he turned to face the table with the holographic crew next to it, grabbing a uniform bundle for hirself almost absentmindedly as s/he waved to get O’Brien’s attention. “Hello, I’m Lieutenant R’Rori. Chief, I’ve got a patient with a nosebleed. I need to get him to a bed away from this crowd so he can relax and we can take a look at him. There’s a Caitian with him and the two are a bonded pair, so she should come too. Can you help?”

While listening for his response and hoping that this wouldn’t trigger some sort of response from the aliens that held them all prisoner, R’Rori took this opportunity to take off the hospital gown and change into the uniform they were all being given. It looked like a generic Starfleet uniform, at least at first glance, and it fit well enough. After the change, s/he grabbed another pair of uniform bundles and rushed back to the felinoid pair, offering them both to K’Ren.

“If this simulation is anywhere near true to life, they’ll send medics here to take us to Sickbay. We should stay together, but he needs to be isolated from this crowd somehow. Change into this as soon as you can, and the other will be for him when he’s stabilized.”

Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Khorin_Douglas)| Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Shuttle Bay ]
[Show/Hide]Att:  @steelphoenix  @SummerDawn  @Auctor Lucan  @Masorin @patches  @YasyraTrill @Fife @Brutus @Anyone else!

When the figure of his captor faded out and the room around him showed up completly change, Khorin allowed himself a saw-like smile. A holodeck. Holodecks were the favorite recreational room in the Starfleet, but they were also infamous for their ability to fail randomly and the unpredictable results of some of their programs. The young pilot remembered studying some of the reports in the Academy: holograms that became self-aware, weapons that did real damage in a fight against the Borg, simulations inside simulations... the possibilities were so many, so different that it was easier to start looking where were the limits that his captors had placed on this farce that thought about what he could do. Yeah, they had said they couldn't harm themselves or others but... could they damage the bulkplates enough to open an exit? Could they find the door of their cage?

The klingon chuckled thunderingly as he made his way to the table with the replicated uniforms. He headed for the human (O'Brien? Yeah, something like that) And gave him the best of his new smiles. “Chief, a security uniform ... please." He roared as he reached out to receive the golden shirt. If the simulation was from where and when he believed, it wouldn't be weird to see a Klingon in security on that starship ... or entering the armory.

Khorin discarded the medical gown he had worn and stuffed himself on the new uniform more calmly than he needed. He needed allies, even if he was able to get out of there by his own means he had a whole Savi ship to face, maybe that was song fuel but it wasn't very practical for get out alive. And for better or for worse, victory was the most honorable deed. And you rarely could claim victory by dying, no matter how epically. Near where he was there was a group of people with feline features, he thought he could distinguish among them some of the crew of the Theurgy, but he wasn't sure. In any case they seemed in the middle of a crisis and didn't need ballast at that moment. In another group there were a couple of crewmen with vulcanoid traits, one of them could even be a romulan woman. Ah, those veQ were tough and paranoid, both excelent traits that could made her useful. And of course strong enough to be considered a mediocre adversary. He mentally noted down their faces as he put on his shoes: he would come back for them later, to test the water. But for now on, he needed to see if he could get his way to the armory.

Khorin stretched to his full height and headed towards the exit of the shuttle bay. He didn't ask directions, he knew more or less where he should go. Yeah, to the Qovpatlh armory. He needed to see how realistic that simulation was. Then he would check where those Hu'tegh Savi had set the limit before considering someone behavior "disruptive”. He smiled again, fiercely showing his new and sharp teeth, enjoying the power of his new full body. They had no idea what they had done when they had decided to grant him a full Klingon blood. But soon they would regret it.

[ Devyrie "Dragon" Okhala (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Devyrie_Okhala,_callsign_%27%27Dragon%27%27) | Observation Pen | the Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] @YasyraTrill
[Show/Hide]When she materialised in the Observation Pen, she had been transported directly from the chamber she had shared with the Ovri alien. Her system had yet to cycle out the heavy drugs the Savi had inoculated her with, and she was still without her gown. At first, she hadn't understood what was happening, even missing the presence of the Ovri that had she'd been with - so indoctrinated by aphrodisiacs and pheromones that she'd all but forgotten how non-consensual the mating study had been for her. She just lay on her side, shaking in post-coitus tremors, coated in alien fluids.

The voice had spoken, this odd, contralto voice, and it sounded like a male version of the voice in the previous chamber. Weakly, she raised her head and blinked with her green eyes, trying to see who all the moving figures were. By that time, the appearance of the area changed, and she frowned, finding herself in a Federation starship shuttlebay. The people around her remained, however, and they seemed to move towards a couple of tables further into the shuttle bay. Vaguely, her head yet clear, she thought she heard the mention of uniforms, but her mind was still laid to waste by the chemicals in her system.

She was weaker still after her Correction, which had been completed. She no longer retained her Papa's ridges, no longer possessing Romulan blood. With a trembling hand, she reached for her ear, feeling the point replaced by a rounded curve. She was like her mother, fully Human, and far from adapting to it yet.

Images flashed before her eyes from the previous chambers, where the tall Ovri with the moving phallus had moved in to kiss her, and then... and then... Devyrie made a sound between a growl and a moan, both lamenting the loss of her integrity and unable to deny the pleasure dealt unto her during the mating study. It was all too much to think about, all too soon after having been removed from that Resequence Pod. She tried, slowly, to stand. To finally get up on her feet. It was something she'd never done when the Ovri forced himself upon her, just as mad as she'd been. As much as she wanted to swear vengeance upon that Ovri, she knew he had not been the instigator of what had been done to her. It was the Savi... These vile scientists that had made her half of what she once were...

Back-lit by the space outside the shuttle bay, Devyrie Okhala rose to her feet, shaking still, and stepped towards the others - moving towards the area where there were uniforms. Another game... Another experiment... At least she could get warm. At least she could cover herself... and start thinking. She didn't meet the eyes of those that looked upon her. If there was anyone she knew, she didn't want to be seen, unable to face them after what had just been done to her. Don't look at me...

So, with her Alpha Centauri locks of hair hanging before her face, she put one foot in front of the other...

...yet her head kept spinning.

The vertigo overtook her, and she missed a step. She fell to the deck. Couldn't get up. She could feel Ovri seed escaping her, but she was oblivious to the humiliation - already unconscious. With her last conscious thought, she had sworn death upon the Savi, and she would use everything her Papa had taught her to punish them all.

---

OOC: Now, we move the hands of time forward 1 hour! One hour should be enough for everyone to have settled into the Enteprise, new locations available as you all see fit. Personally, my hope is that @YasyraTrill now post next, where she can both find her lost sister, and start up a scene wherever would suit best, be it sickbay, some quarters or whatever. Everyone should take this opportunity to write their characters together with the characters on the Enterprise, but I will not have any opportunity to NPC them all, so work together with other writers if you need to! Also, a reminder about the mission objectives, and how you should try to have Endeavour and Theurgy crewmembers commingle and plot escape together. Posting order is free! But everyone in the Observation Pen should at least post once within the next 7 days!

[Ens Nathanial "Icarus" Isley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Nathaniel_Isley,_callsign_"Icarus"&redirect=no) |  Observation Pen | the Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Type 11 Shuttlecraft ]

Isley awoke slowly, his head still throbbing from everything that he had gone through, and didn't really understand. Everything seemed like a blur because of the drugs that had sedated him, and he was left thirsty, feeling like this was all some sort of shuttle in a shuttle bay. His surroundings had gone from the strange and bizzare to the mundane and familiar, and yet he knew this wasn't reality, there had been a voice telling him as such.

A soft, yet loud voice that had spoken to him, and in his semi conscious state the only words he had managed to pick up was Observation, hologram and known environment. It all twisted and rolled around his head for a long moment, this was a simulation, and because of that he had to be wary of every single person he'd meet. He wasn't sure who or what would be real in this place.

Then came the familiar stroke of paranoia that he had grown accustomed too over the last few hours, wait was it hours or a day? Had it been longer? Nathan wasn't sure, all he knew for certain that these things, these Savi, they were real, and they all needed to die. Anger, his mother always warned him that Vulcan emotions were intense, that to be passionate about something was good, but if left to its own ends it was a fire that would destroy everything, and that anger for the sake of anger was a bad thing.

He had half a mind to make his mother choke on those words, because his skin had a green tinge to it that wasn't vulcan, his features were warped, and he was now a more handsome reflection of his 'brother'. Another flash of anger and Nathan tried to move his hand to strike at the shuttle craft around him, only to feel his entire body lurch forward when he realized he was still confined in a strait jacket that was more designed for a galactic standard than one as tall and lanky as him. His body barely seemed to fit in the thing, and despite feeling like he could tare the jacket apart as he struggled with it the materials would not budge.

He lashed out then with his legs, finding no binding on them kicking the shuttle's walls and doors till he managed to hit a release and the door swung open his next kick throwing him out of the confined shuttle and onto the floor of a shuttle bay. Letting out a frustrated yell as he seemingly flopped around for a moment trying to get back to his feet.

The shuttle bay lay empty. If there had been others, they had already left.

[Ensign Okhala | Day 5 | Observation Pen | the Versant ~ Medical Bay | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @patches @steelphoenix @SummerDawn @Fife

The last hour had passed in a blur after the hurried reassurances from Cross that he was who he seemed, and the initial relief that brought, she was almost immediately blindsided by her heightened senses. As she was talking to Cross about what had been done to them and where they were her newly enhanced sense of smell picked up a familiar sent. Though it was tainted by the chemical smell of correction, the acrid decay of fear and something spicy that suggested things Laurel didn't want to think about, was the homey tang of lemon-green tea, a spice common in Alpha Centauri cooking and hair gel . . . that was definitely Devyrie!

As she became aware of the scent she heard the sound of someone falling to the ground and almost on autopilot, Laurel pushed passed Cross and stumbled toward the naked, ash-blonde human on the ground in front of the tables from which her new uniform came. The woman was out cold on the deck plate when Laurel sunk down beside her, taking in the changes in her sister . . . the rounded ears, the missing ridges and how very pale she seemed now. Her sister loved their Romulan heritage, there is no way she had chosen to be made human. That meant that like Laurel herself those monsters had taken their requests and ignored them in favor of the other choice for whatever their sick purposes were. As she moved to gently roll Dev to her back, reaching blindly up to the table to find something to cover her up, she noticed what that other smell was and that rage that had been momentarily banked by relief and surprise was back hotter than before. Those <aehallhs>! They had <aith> her! Finally someone handed her a uniform as her hand groped hopelessly for something to help her fallen sister. The salt of tears blurred her vision and she felt more nauseous than she had, even when pulling the feeding tube. What drugs were left in her system made her movements uncoordinated and sluggish but her mind was now back to full capacity, though short circuiting from the information overload she was getting from her close proximity to Dev. Moving to cradle her older sister as she helped cover her, she had asked for help.

An hour later saw her sitting in a med bay, a tricorder in her face as a hologram medical officer attempted to try and determine what kind of drug cocktail she had been given, she ignored the questions mostly as she watched the other 'medical officers' work on her sister. The doctor, Beverly Crusher, evidently they had been projected onto the Enterprise, had said that physically her sister would be ok once her own drugs had run their course and she had had some rest . . . mentally they couldn't really say. Not that any of the test subjects were particularly stable at the moment, Laurel had had to be talked down from near biting one of the medical staff that came to retrieve Dev, when they tried to take her from Laurel. Looking back on that incident she owed Cross . . . again. If she had attacked that hologram their is a chance that the Savi would have just recycled her and then where would that leave Devyrie and Cross and the others . . . No, it was better she was still there. She hadn't been able to get to any of the Savi yet after all.

So she refocused on the person before her and answered their questions as best she could, though really she had no idea what half the things the Savi had done to her while she was loopy even were . . . or their consequences. Her arms itched as they ran the regenerator over the marks and she held back a growl when one of the orderlies approached with a hypospray. 'They aren't here to hurt you. They are just a simulation. They aren't Savi.' A mantra she chanted over and over in her head to calm her raw emotions and drown out how loud everything still was. The medical bay seemed to be even brighter than the rest of the ship and she could feel the headache building behind her eyes. She hoped they released her soon. While she was loathe to leave Devyrie alone, she needed to find others that were prepared to plan things . . . she needed something to distract her from the twitchy feeling of wanting to fight before she made a mistake that could get her or one of the other captives into big trouble.

[ Lt. Cross | Observation Pen - USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Shuttle Bay ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Numen @steelphoenix @SummerDawn @patches @Masorin @YasyraTrill Anyone Else...

Cross, having had to restrain Ensign Okhala to prevent her from assaulting the holographic medical staff that came to get the female human who had been beamed in, was fairly sure that Ensign Okhala was stable enough for the moment. He could only hope she wouldn’t assault anyone else as he turned and moved off, glancing around and attempting to commit the faces of those in the shuttle bay to memory. Satisfied that he would be able to recognize those present, he collected his PADD from the holographic PO Benson and proceeded out of the shuttle bay. As he strode out of the doors and into the corridor beyond he skimmed over the PADD to find out where his quarters were located and what his posting in this absurd simulation was. He heard footsteps approaching quickly behind him and was unsurprised when PO Narelle appeared at his side, falling in with his pace and looking up at him expectantly. “So what should we do now, sir?” The PO asked, dodging out of the way of an oncoming security Ensign which Cross did not recognize and assumed was a hologram.

“It’s the duty of any captured Starfleet officer to attempt escape.” Cross spoke quietly, though he doubted it would make much difference. If the Savi were monitoring them, they would be aware of what he was saying. “Though I still don’t know how we’re going to get out of this <fucking shithole>.”

The PO chuckled as they moved down the hallway, once again finding her department chief’s habit of swearing in Cardassian amusing. She then jumped as Cross violently barked out another curse, having looked at his assignment slated for that day.

“<Fucking> night shift?!?”

---

[ Lt. Cross | Personal Quarters | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ]

40 Minutes later Cross stepped out of the sonic shower, sighing at the sensation of finally being clean as he walked through his quarters. He wasn’t usually one to enjoy luxuries, generally keeping a more utilitarian mindset, but he found himself relishing the feeling on this particular occasion.

He thought back on the days they had spent adrift in the escape pod, sweating as the cramped and overcrowded space had first become hot, then stifling with the breath, body heat and perspiration of 6 people. They had escaped that hell, only to be thrown into a different one, the Savi ship. Under the Savi’s cold and soulless “care” he had been immersed in a pod full of some sort of gel, poked, prodded, operated on, experimented on and left battling for his own sanity. Now, free of the coating of residue from the gel, sweat, blood, and whatever else had been covering him from head to toe, he felt reborn.

Cross reached the bed and pulled on the standard issue boxers he had been given in the shuttle bay before stepping into his uniform pants. He had hours before his night shift began but lacked any clothes besides the uniform and couldn’t be bothered to replicate any. He pulled on his shirt and shrugged into his tunic, adjusting it and looking at himself in the mirror. It was good to be wearing the red uniform of a tactical officer again, but her couldn’t get used to seeing the smooth nose and unfortunately prominent eyebrows in the mirror.

Fucking Vulcans… Cross thought, glaring at his reflection.

Turning from the mirror he stepped into his boots and was about to leave his quarters when his combadge chirped at him.

[Lieutenant Cross, report to the Bridge.] came the voice of Commander Riker, [The Captain would like a word with you.]

---

[ Lt. Cross | Captain’s Ready Room | Bridge | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ]

Cross walked through the Bridge and entered the ready room, annoyed at having to play along with this charade. He stopped in front of the Captain’s desk and stood smartly at ease, shoulders back, hands clasped behind his back and feet shoulder width apart. From behind the desk the stern visage of Captain Picard silently regarded him. Even though he was a hologram, a part of Cross couldn’t help but be impressed with the man, a legend among Starfleet officers.

“Lieutenant Cross, reporting as ordered, Captain.” Cross recited the line, still finding this situation farcical.

“Thank you for coming, Lieutenant.” Said Picard, rising from his chair and moving to the replicator. “Would you like anything?”

“No thank you, sir.”

“Very well,” said Picard, turning to the replicator and placing his order. “Tea, chamomile. Hot.”

Cross’ eyes flickered towards the Captain before returning to the spot on the wall directly ahead of him. Captain Picard’s tea order had been somewhat of a running joke among some of the officers he had served with over the years, though the Savi seemed to have gotten that particular detail wrong. Cross wondered what else might be off about this damned simulation. His mind was pulled back to the present situation when Picard, having reclaimed his chair, began to speak.

“The reason I asked you here, Lieutenant,” Picard began, “Was to get a feel for the man who would be watching over my ship tonight. I know you’ve been through quite an ordeal recently, and this may be your first time in charge of the Bridge, and I wanted to make sure you’re up for it.” Cross couldn’t help but grit his teeth.

“Computer, delete character Picard.” Cross muttered quietly. Picard remained where he sat and looked at Cross quizzically.

It was worth a shot… Cross thought as he mentally hurled several curses at the Savi and their fucking simulation.

“Did you say something, Lieutenant?”

“I was just saying I feel confident in my ability to watch over the bridge tonight, sir.” Cross replied.

“Ah. Very well, Lieutenant. You’ve got several hours before your shift begins, I’ll let you get some rest. I look forward to reading your report in the morning.” Holo-Picard gave him a seemingly condescending smile, and Cross found himself wanting to rip the hologram’s shiny bald head off, though he restrained himself.

“Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

With that, Cross turned and strode out of the ready room and made his way off the bridge, heading off in search of his fellow prisoners. He had 7 hours before he had to continue with this ridiculous game, and they had an escape to plan.

---

OOC: If anyone else wants to condemn their characters to night shift as well, it might be a good place to plot and/or put a plan in motion.

Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Khorin_Douglas)| Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Armory ]
[Show/Hide]Att:  @steelphoenix  @SummerDawn  @Auctor Lucan  @Masorin @patches  @YasyraTrill @Fife @Brutus @Anyone else!

Baktag simulation. puQloD SaD Ha'DIbaH*, that Savi. Khorin had arrived at the armory full of confidence, all pride and toothy grins, but soon his expression had twisted into a grimace of disgust. All weapons, absolutely all weapons in the armory were just as harmful as the teeth of a newborn targ.They were hardly different than toys made of manipulated photons, absolutely useless. In fact, the phasers weren't even capable of firing, when he pulled the trigger they emitted an ominous beam of light ... and little else. He had even shot his own foot, just to see if it really was as useless as it seemed, and the effect had been the same as if he has were fired himself with a flashlight.

Of course, he had gone madly enraged. How not to do it? Not only he couldn't face his enemies, but he had to comply with that pantomime. Unable to avoid it, he threw the useless weapon into the corridor, kicked the shelves of the small room and roared out his frustration. Khorin had always been impulsive and vehement, but his new full klingon blood made his old self look like a Hu'tegh vulcan. How, in the name of the Barge of the Dead, was he going to begin a mutiny without a single weapon? He needed to get out of there, he needed to draw a new plan. He rested his ridged forehead at the door of the armory and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. Plans, plans, plans, he need plans.

At that moment, the door opened, causing Khorin to stagger forward. He looked up to find himself face to face with another Klingon. Of course he knew him. What young man in Qo'noS had not heard of Worf son of Mogh? First Klingon licenced in Starfleet Academy, even discommendated he was able to regain his honor, the one who helped to establish Gowron as chancellor and, later, his executioner, the one who reinstated the Emperor, blood-brother of Chancellor Martok ...he was a living legend, with its lights and shadows. Khorin looked him straight in the eye, unable to say anything. Mogh's son was watching him with a frown and the pilot couldn't help but keep his gaze ... until he realized that he had made him a question.

"Sorry, sir?" He asked.

"I query what has happened here, Lieutenant" growled the Tactical Officer.

Khorin glanced at the mess he had set up in the armory and just shrugged. "I was angry."

Worf nodded, his brow darkening his eyes. "I see. You look for the battles in the wrong place." He said, fixing his penetrating gaze on the young Klingon. "Your recent experiences are no excuse for this kind of discipline alteration. I want to see everything in order before the start of your shift." Without adding anything else, he went on his way, sure that he would be obeyed.

Khorin didn't even answer, just watched him go away. But he had no intention of ordering that mess. In any case, the holographic Worf was right about one thing: his battle wasn't against the simulation, it was against the Savi, he had to find a way to face his captors face to face... and defeat them.

---

Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant / USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Corridors]

The next hour found Khorin in the starship corridors. His klingon heart was still clamoring for battle, but at least he had begun to plan a plan. His captors had warned them that a disruptive behavior would automatically be punished by recycling, it was a long shot but maybe it was the only option to escape, however desperate it was. Even so, if he had an ally next to him, he might have a chance. He didn't know what he could found outside that Observation Pen beyond the gel-filled capsule where he had been "corrected", he had barely glimpsed anything inside the ship but it was better to be at large inside the ship real, with the possibility of getting real weapons, that remain trapped in that parody, unable to do anything. The impotence of his current situation made him grunt gravely.

A few steps down the corridor made him look back where the sound came from, it was the vulcan he had seen in the shuttle bay, he recognized the shaved head and his bitter gesture so unbecoming of a vulqangan. Either way he seemed as determined and as furious about his situation as he was.

When they crossed their steps, Khorin took him by the arm, stopping him and looked him straight in the eyes, looming over the red shirt, taking advantage of his greater height. "The duty of every Starfleet member captured by a hostile force is to escape," he finally growled in a low voice, "We need a plan how to scape, and free the others."

---

* puqloD SaD Ha'DIbaH .- Sons of thousand dogs

"'Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds', said Oppenheimer. Human history, and now, that be mine. I have taken lives. Good lads and lasses all, because they made a mistake...they trusted me. God forgive me, but they trusted me, and I repaid them by killing them. I do wish now tha' I had died in th' Dominion War..."

[ Lt. JG Sinead O'Riley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sinead_O%27Riley#Personality_Profile) | Biolabs | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan, @Numen, @steelphoenix, @SummerDawn, @patches, @Masorin, @YasyraTrill & @Fife
[Show/Hide]What have I done? What have I done?

The question repeated itself over and over again in her head, as she rocked back and forth, staring at Rihen Niyah's glazed eyes. Her neck twisted unnaturally around, looking lifelessly at her. There was no question, no doubt, about who did it. There was no one else here, but herself. She took the poor woman's life, and she couldn't do a thing to stop it. No, worse, she thought somehow that Rihen was a threat. Something had broken in her. Something even Vulcan training and teaching couldn't heal or suppress. Not this time.

“What have yeh done?” said her raw emotional self in her head. A phantom spirit of her own making. “Yeh killed th' wee lass, that be what yeh did. How does it feel? Hmm?”

She felt a familiar sensation of nausea as she was transported from the empty room, save for Rihen's body to...

[ Shuttle Bay | Deck 03 | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ]

...a Federation starship? Had she been saved? Rescued? Was it just a few minutes too late? She could have been spared from murdering a helpless woman that was under Starfleet protection?!? She wanted to scream. But something was off. She had only been a few days on the Theurgy, but it was enough to recognize the size differences. This ship was of a slightly older design. She heard Miles O'Brien's voice, and that confirmed it for her, seeing as the man looked a little younger than he should be looking, given the passage of years since the time she'd last seen him, as a child.

This was a holo program, and she was alone in the shuttle bay. If there were other abductees, they had either already left, or they were yet to arrive. Besides O'Brien and his officers at the table, all she could hear was some commotion from the shuttles.

“We are killers, yeh an' me,” said her phantom self, “th' only difference 'tween us is I make no lie about it. But yeh fool yerself, lass.”

“Sh-shut up...” said Sinead, softly, her body trembling, as she remained seated, her knees drawn up to her chest.

“Shut up, now, is it?” said the phantom in a sing-song, taunting voice, “Where be that typical load of crap yeh like t' spew at me? What was it again? Yeh are me, I am yeh, we be one an' th' same, aye? That be how yeh like t' put it.”

The phantom appeared to be walking around her, fists planted on hips, smirking down at her, “Oh how th' Mighty Sinead O'Riley has fallen. Blood o' innocents on 'er hands. Yeh didna know it before, but yeh do now, at last, aye?”

“Shut up...!” Sinead covered her ears with her palms, but it was a futile effort. The voice was in her head, not out here. It was very likely a side effect of the microchip in the brain, or a growing insanity. Chaos...

The last thought was not her own.

“Yeh shoul' thank these Savi. They confirmed fer yeh what yeh have suspected fer some time...” Sinead shook her head at the phantom's words, she didn't want to hear it said out, but the phantom was revelling in her misery, “Yeh are death itself. The Grim Reaper. Everythin' th' people in th' War said about yeh was TRUE!”

“SHUT UP!!!” Sinead shrieked at the top of her lungs, her head throwing back, eyes shut in frustration, “SHUT UP! GO AWAY! SHUT AAAHHP!!!”

The tears hadn't stopped pouring since Rihen's death.

She was the monster, but she cried.

[ Lahkesis Saugn | ICU | Main Sickbay | "USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E" | Precept-ship Versant ]
[Show/Hide]
In sickbay she moved with an almost mechanical stoicism, detached from the world around her. She could not say how long she had been on duty or even when she transferred to the Enterprise, those details were lost in the jumble of her mind. Indeed the details of much of the last year had blurred into a mess of memories and half remembered dreams. The details had been shattered, leaving her unable to grasp a linear path of events.

All she knew for sure was what she had been told only moments before when she had been given a clean uniform, something had happened to hers, though she was uncertain what, and that was that she was the new Doctor on the Enterprise. So she had gone to work.

So she went about her duties, treating crew with the various medical complaints, doing the regular tests and experiments, and keeping up on the never ending stream of paperwork. All of this she did with the ease of a machine as it took little of her fragmented memory to be able to do them. Her skills as a physician did not seem affected by her current issue, whatever it was.

As she moved around sickbay, her pale pupilless eyes seeming to fix on no person, not really identifying anyone on face value, in her current state they were all strangers to her and all were either patients she needed to help or colleagues she would work with, her mind made the distinction and she acted, almost in a dream-like state, saying almost nothing, but behaving pleasant all the same.

She could not see what was wrong because to her things had always been that way, or at the very least they had been that way for as long as she had linear memory. Beyond that was a tangled web of shadows.

Every now and then she would remember a large scaled man, his touch on her body. She would see a blind man staring at her from the corner of her eye, but he would not be there when she turned her head to look. Both disturbed her as she did not remember the names of either man, yet knew she would give herself mind and body for either of them in a single beat of her heart.

[ Deacon | Main Sickbay | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E Simulation | Precept-ship Versant (Observation Pen) ] @SummerDawn  @patches  @Auctor Lucan  @Absinthe

An hour, it had taken an hour before the voices that had been rampaging in and out of his thoughts and shattering his rational mind were silent.  His beautiful K'Ren, who had been graced with the body of a goddess, and another female who had apparently been as felinoid as he at one point, had managed slip him away from the false shuttlebay to a false sickbay for seeming fear that his out of control empathy would muddy his mind and shatter his sense of self.  In retrospect, he'd felt it as well, although at the time he could no more discern his own senses from those around him.  He supposed that had he a chance to think about it before arriving, he might very well have questioned whether holographic medication would have an effect, but false or not, he was thankful for the intervention. 

"How are you feeling?" a red haired female in a long blue coat asked, hovering at the edge of his biobed, a small tricorder in her hand.

He glanced about him, looking first for his mate and then for any other face he might recognize before giving a grim nod to the holographic doctor -- Crusher, he believe he heard someone call her.  He questioned the need to maintain any such civility towards this artificial projection, but a tinge of guilt brought another to mind -- one who had cared for him when he was stricken with a virus that nearly killed him.  Turning his now blue-tinged eyes to regard the holographic doctor, he tried to see if there was anything in her that he recognized, but try as he might, he could see no signs of the Theurgy.  "Better," he said at last. "My brain isn't going to explode."

The hologram smiled, straightening her back and slipping the tricorder into the pocket of her coat.  "Well, that's progress then.  It's fortunate that we had some neural inhibitor on hand.  It usually takes sixteen hours to replicate.  I'll make sure we maintain a supply on hand in case your symptoms return."

He slid his legs off the edge of the bed, descending to the floor, his knees uncertain, his tail lashing wildly to compensate for his altered sense of gravity.  Everything felt off.  The Savi had broken his legs, reshaped them to mimic a human's stance such that his natural instinct to stand on the balls of his feet left him off balance. 

"Xander," the hologram said, evoking a defensive sense of outrage from deep within.  If nothing, he knew some part of his kzinti self yet lingered, but he could not risk an incarceration, even in this false vessel, nor could he risk an artificial advancement of the promised memory wipe.  Instead, he looked over his shoulder, managing to swallow his indignation behind the numbness of the inhibitor that had managed to quiet the world outside his mind.  "I'm curious about your tail," she said, giving it a small nod.  "Your genetic profile is clearly human but I've never seen a human with an atavistic mutation like that.  How long have you had it?"

Atavistic?  Like a monkey.  They think he's a monkey.  He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breath, to release the sense of outrage that he so badly wanted to act on.  The hologram was not the right target.  Bracing himself against the edge of the biobed, he faced her.  "All my life.  And I would prefer to keep it," he noted, a carefully cultivated tone allowing him to sound civil when he felt anything but.

She smiled.  "Of course.  If it isn't troubling you, there's no reason to remove it.  I was merely curious."  She turned to the overhead displays which showed a readout of his brainwaves, likely her own option for tracking the effectiveness of the drug she'd given him.  "I took the liberty of contacting Guinan and advising her that you should take the day off to see how the inhibitor works.  If you experienced any unexpected side effects, report back to sickbay immediately.  If your symptoms don't return, then you should be clear for your duty shift tomorrow in Ten Forward."

He gave a nod, pretending he had the slightest idea what she had said, as she turned and walked away to check on another patient.

[ K'Ren (http://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=K%27Ren) | Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant / USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Shuttle Bay ] Attn: @steelphoenix @patches  @Absinthe @anyone
[Show/Hide]K'Ren accepted the uniform that R'Rori gave her. Starfleet did dictate some form of covering over her fur, but she was a bit surprised the simulation had gone to the extent of providing a uniform suited to her form. The one piece dress, while based around the standard uniform of the Dominion War era, and looking much like it, borrowed elements from older uniform designs. For her purposes at least, it was a skirted uniform, and that meant there was no need for the tail hole that she disliked. Thinking about it as she put it on, it was in fact very familiar, she'd worn one just like this when she reported about her first posting. The color bands however, reverted to red as while she might have been a fighter pilot, on ships without a dedicated fighter wing, all pilots wore red as their departmental color.

"Agreed. We stay together." She remarked, moving to assist Deacon.

---

[2130hrs]

With R'Rori's help they'd gotten Deacon to sickbay, a much larger one then she'd expected, the Resolve's had been smaller, though it was a smaller ship so that at least made sense. Once he was resting on a bio bed while the medication took hold, she hoped it was the real stuff, not something these Savi were using to experiment on them with, she could take a look around while she waited for her mate to recover.

Glancing around, still adjusting to the improved visual acuity her now fully Caitian eyes afforded, she watched the staff go about their work. It all seemed normal enough, nobody she recognized but that was expected given this ship wasn't real, the people as fake as the chair she sat in. As she sat there tho, she saw one face in the crowd she recognized. Recognized might have been too strong a term but the women seemed familiar somehow, like a flash of memory, from when she came aboard her new home, the Theurgy. K'Ren waited until the women had come back to the area she was sitting before K'Ren stood and went over to the woman. "Ma'am. Are you with the recent transfers in?" she asked, hoping to couch her query in a way that would make sense if the women was part of the program.

TAG: @Absinthe

---

[2200 hrs]

K'Ren stood a respectful distance away as Deacon awoke finally, the sedatives and drugs having done their work. A different doctor, not the one she'd spoken with earlier, was attending to Deacon. It was only once the conversation she was having with Deacon was finished and she'd left that K'Ren came forward, stopping in front of Deacon. "How are you mate?" she asked, not sure why she was keeping a respectful distance between them. Her instincts told her to leap out and hug him, nuzzling the man, letting him know exactly how she felt, but concern that the Savi were watching, might interpret her affection as something that needed further correction gave her pause.

A part of her mind reminded her tho that regardless of self-preservation, she would rather die with her bond mate, then go through the next few days before her memory wipe, not loving the man she cared deeply about. ~Damned if you do, Damned if you don't.~ she thought, before stepping up to Deacon and wrapping her arms around him, holding him close. Even as her arms went around him, the stress and the pain began to well up in her, fighting for release. These creatures, these monsters, they took everything, took her human side, took Deacon's K'Zin side, and then in a final act of callousness, took the offspring they'd made together, and discarded them like some sort of left over medical waste.

---

Uniform Ref: [Show/Hide]

[ Lt. Cross | Day 5 | Corridors | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Numen @patches @YasyraTrill @SummerDawn @steelphoenix @Masorin @Triage Anyone else.

Cross stalked down the corridors of the Enterprise, not sure exactly where he was headed and not sure where anything was on this ship anyway. In fact, at this point there was very little he did know besides the fact that he hated the Borg, he hated the Savi, and he hated this fucking simulation. He ground his teeth and breathed heavily through his nose as he rounded a corner, finding yet another corridor stretching off ahead of him, and continued onward at his furious pace. Or at least he would have, but for a Klingon grabbing his arm and halting his progress.

“The duty of every Starfleet member captured by a hostile force is to escape.” The Klingon growled as he loomed over Cross, “We need a plan how to escape, and free the others.”

The surprise Cross felt at being grabbed by a strange Klingon, and at having the same words he had spoken to PO Narelle earlier echoed back at him, made him forget his hatred of all things Savi for just a moment. Cross found he recognized the Klingon and racked his brain in an attempt to come up with the Klingon’s name.

“I saw you in the observation pen, didn’t I?” Cross asked, narrowing his eyes as he tried to recall the name. “Before the holodeck was brought online. You kicked the wall and almost fell over!” Cross recalled with a chuckle. “It’s Khorin, right? I don’t recognize you from the Endeavour. What ship are you…” Cross cut his sentence short as he glanced down the corridor behind them and saw some unfamiliar crew members moving towards them.  He tilted his head in the other direction, indicating they should continue down the corridor.

“I agree we need to come up with a plan. I have no desire to play along with this charade.” Cross confided in the Klingon as they strode down the corridor, speaking quietly so as not to be overheard by those around them. “The question is how do we go about it? The room we were in before this simulation began had no door, and I find it doubtful we’ll be able to access a transporter from in here…” Cross trailed off as he thought about the situation. The Savi had said that the food from the replicators would be real, but that they would not be able to harm themselves or each other, meaning the weapons would most likely be useless. With no way to leave the holodeck under their own power, and having no way of arming themselves, they were left with little in the way of fighting back against the Savi even if they were to escape.

Short of beating them with our bare hands… Cross thought as he glanced up at the Klingon. He certainly looks like he’d be up to the task.

Cross thought about it for a moment, then looked up at the Klingon again as he spoke. “Have you spoken with any of the other captives? If we’re going to have any chance of succeeding, we’ll need to recruit the others as well.” He tried to recall those that he had seen in the observation pen before the holodeck had activated. Okhala and the human woman she had been so protective of. R’Rori had been there, as well as the two other felinoids. Two humans, one with only one arm, and the one who had been beamed into the pen mid curse, and a Romulan who had fallen out of the shuttle. Cross couldn’t remember any of the others.

It’s a start. Cross thought as they continued down the corridor. We need to find the others so we can figure out a plan of attack.

Cross came to a sudden stop as a thought occurred to him. Okhala and the human would have gone to sickbay. R’Rori and the two felines would have as well. That made sickbay a good place to start.

“Computer, how do we get to sickbay from out present location?” Cross asked aloud. He waited for the computer to give him the directions, then set off to seek out the others. He’d fill Khorin in on the way.

I might get out of night shift after all… Cross thought to himself with a  bemused smile as he and Khorin made their way to sickbay.

Joint post between patches, SummerDawn and Steelphoenix
[ Lt. R'Rori, Ens K'Ren, Deacon |  Main Sickbay | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E Simulation ] @steelphoenix @SummerDawn @Absinthe @Fife @Numen @YasyraTrill @Auctor Lucan etc.

R’Rori tugged on the uniform skirt, wishing for the fifth time that s/he had thought of how cold it would be without fur on hir legs. After badgering medics to treat Deacon, s/he had spent the time tersely conversing with the holographic Dr Crusher, who seemed a little … off from what the counselor remembered hearing of the semi-famous doctor. The Caitian hadn’t approached hir, seemingly preferring to stay close to her mate. There was a moment when she walked off and approached one of the medical staff, though, and R’Rori idly wondered what was going on there.

It took an annoyingly large amount of hir mental processing to keep hirself focused on something other than the state of hir body. Without someone begging for hir attention or requiring assistance that s/he could provide, hir brain was free to tug on the age old struggle with dysphoria as well as the more recent memories of the Endeavour’s destruction and the follow up treatment by their alien captors. When Deacon moved, R’Rori alerted and moved away from the wall s/he had been leaning again. Dr Crusher got to him first and then it was his mate, K’Ren. S/he moved hirself to where he could see hir and closer to where s/he didn’t have to raise hir voice to speak.

“Yes, how are you feeling now?” S/he hesitated before continuing, the question burning in hir mind urgently pushing forward to be spoken. “You aren’t from the Endeavour, are you? Either of you?”

Deacon looked at the once-felinoid, his eyes slightly narrowed, before giving a questionning glance towards K'Ren, his hand wrapped firmly around her own.  "If you don't mind a head full of cotton," he replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his free hand, the tip of his tail bracing against the side of the biobed to keep him steadily on his feet, "then I suppose it's fine.  At least I can think again, which is more than I had."

K'Ren gave Deacon a reassuring squeeze as he spoke to R'Rori. It felt a little odd to be holding a human hand but only because the man beside her had once been K'Zin. Of course she'd also once been part human so it was what it was. Turning to face the women she smiled, teeth covered. "We are not from there no. We were captured from a different Starfleet vessel." She was unsure if she should mention the Theurgy's name so left that part out, for now at least.

R'Rori nodded slowly in response to both of their answers. "A head full of cotton is much better than what you were going through before, sir. I haven't worked with empaths often. They usually prefer one of the other counselors that are themselves empathic or telepathic for some reason or another."

The two were clearly keeping the ship's name secret for now, which was very curious. There were very few reasons to do that, especially if they were all Starfleet here. The Caitian carried herself like a Starfleet officer, something that R'Rori had quickly noted once they got to Sickbay. S/he debated pressing for more details momentarily and decided to go for a slightly different tack. "Our ship was destroyed by a Borg cube. Probably still close by the area, assuming our jailors don't have a super-fast ship. Did your ship also have a run in with the Borg or...?"

Deacon's expression turned dark, perhaps more-so than a human should be capable of conveying, even as he bared his fangs.  "Our ship was attacked by the things that did this to us," he said, his voice as close to a growl as he could manage, but it lacked the proper backing and, to him, made the statement feel all the more lacking.  "Barely a few weeks away from homeworld and all but the most superficial of what I knew has been scraped away.  Half way there was one thing -- saving my life was fine.  But this...."  He shook his head before looking up at K'Ren again.  "The Fanged God challenges us with only that which we can face.  I could bear this monkey face if I had to, but to strike at our..."  He clenched his fist, taking a deep breath.  "The doctor warned me to remain calm or I risk purging the inhibitor from my system before it sets."

Looking back at R'Rori, he stood to his full height, although still some inches shorter than he had been, thanks to their captor's tender mercies.  "I assume you were part caitian," he said to her, his eyes trying to take in what few feline features remained.  "Starfleet, sapient, that would be my conclusion."  His lips tightened before inclining his head.  "Thank you for your assistance earlier."

K'Ren could sense the tension in Deacon and her spare hand she moved up his back, gently massaging around the shoulder, the same spot she'd discovered the night before could help calm her mate down.  "We are recently mated, Deacon and I.  The bond ties us together." She paused, "We are from different vessels tho we came to call the starship named Theurgy home. I came from a ship destroyed by Starfleet, why I do not know, only that my fellow crew were branded traitors upon our arrival at Starbase 84.  We were rescued by Theurgy, only to be attacked by these aliens."

It was a few moments before R'Rori spoke again, during which hir eyes drifted from Deacon's blue to K'Ren's green pairs. Hir eyes had once been a reflective silver, but the genetic tampering had muted them to something like a sharper grey. "I am- was half-Caitian, yes. They have taken my mother's heritage from me, leaving me only the scraps like they did with you. My name is R'Rori."

Hir name was meant to be a soft purr or growl, but now hir throat could no longer do more than approximate the deeper intricacies of hir mother's tongue and the reminder brought forth a surge of anger shown through a flick of hir tail and hir ears flattening for a barely a few seconds before s/he refocused. "Fanged God? Me being sapient seems notable..." Sentient felinoid species were rare. Deacon was clearly not from any in the Federation and the reference to the Fanged God tugged at R'Rori's memory before it came to hir in a flash. "Kzin? The Patriarchy..."

S/he turned hir gaze back to K'Ren, a slight frown marring the normally gentle features on hir face. "And the Theurgy, you say? They saved you? First the Borg, then this, and now I'm talking to people on the Federation's Most Wanted list. This week just keep delivering."

"The week is welcome to take back its deliveries.  The majority of them were unwelcome and unrequested," Deacon grumbled before he finally released his grip on the biobed, his tail whipping somewhat uneasily behind him.  "With one exception," he added, giving K'Ren's hand a squeeze. "As for the Savi, I'm afraid they've taken this beyond an insult of the flesh.  I will kill them all for this.  Even kzin frown on genocide, but I lack the skills to force my own corrections on them genetically, so I'm afraid it'll have to be a bit more... bloody."  He glanced at R'Rori. "Maybe your borg need a new playmate.  Either way, this vessel and every grey skinned thing that walks its halls will be prey in the hunting lands before I'm done.  And then I'll find every other ship that carries their misbegotten flock and treat them to the same fate."  It was ironic, he thought, that his people had spent so many centuries begrudged against humanity and now he'd sworn a life hunt against the Savi.  In this time, in this moment, though, he could think of aught else to satisfy his hunger for vengeance.  In truth, the thought of feasting on their monochromatic flesh even held a certain appeal.  His grandfather was right.  Humans were savage.

K'Ren, for all the pacifism the Caitian's were known for, fighting was seen as a last resort in defense of one's self and family, understood the anger in her mate even if she only sensed it in his posture and how he held his hand. She looked to R'Rori, "Neither of us wishes to be here, trust me.  The Dark One it seems plays tricks on us, forces us to play games we do not desire." She paused, "R'Rori, I do not wish to be anyone's enemy.  I did not chose this fate. I did not betray Starfleet despite what is said of the ship. I served Starfleet, and in return, they destroyed the ship I called home."

She sighed, "What matters is finding a way out of here, and if possible, reversing the changes these aliens have made, though that I doubt we will achieve. I have spoken with another of the crew I recognized, though not much came of it. It would be best we find a place where we can talk without prying ears, the lounge perhaps?" She offered a paw to R'Rori, claws retracted, paw open, wrist bared, the traditional greeting between Caitians.

R’Rori nodded in agreement with Deacon’s statement, though privately s/he didn’t quite agree with a promise to kill every Savi he could find. K’Ren’s answer caught hir attention once more, nodding in agreement with her suggestion. S/he held out hir own hand to grasp the Caitian’s wrist to return the greeting, mentally mourning the demise of hir claws. Hir hands had mere fingernails now, no longer worthy of even the attempt at combat.

“The Goddess may yet light a path for us then. Normally, I would suggest a counselor’s office to avoid prying ears but the lounge may be better to mask our conversation in this case.” S/he chuckled mirthlessly. “You will have your hunt soon enough, Deacon, if we manage to escape our prison. The scales will need balancing.”

Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Khorin_Douglas)| Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Corridors ]
[Show/Hide]Att:  @steelphoenix  @SummerDawn  @Auctor Lucan  @Masorin @patches  @YasyraTrill @Fife @Brutus @Anyone else!

Khorin nodded with a smirk full of teeth when the vulcan pointed his temper tantrum shortly before introducing himself. Even now, if he knew where the wall of that Hu'tegh  holodeck was, he would hit it until he reached the other side, although he'd to wreck his fists achieving it. But unfortunately, it was not among what he could do at that moment.

“Yeah, that's me, then so you're lieutenant Cross, right?" Confirmed the klingon. When asked in which starship he was traveling on, Khorin was grateful for the arrival of the holographic crew members, which allowed him to gain a few seconds to quickly think about what to answer. As much as both needed allies, the crew of the Theurgy was among the most wanted of the Federation at that time, and introduce himself as one of them would only cause suspicion and mistrust. He peeked reluctantly to the vulcan as they continued down the corridor before answer.

"I am... I was a fighter pilot in Starbase 84," He finally whispered, suppressing his instinct of talk at the top of his lungs. The base was close enough and Khorin knew plenty about the pilots' routine at Starbases to compose a credible alibi."I was doing a test flight with a refitted interceptor when those fuckers took me out of my cockpit. I don't even know how many days I've been here.“ Maybe with that he could play dumb and avoid more questions.

When the officer in red asked for his next steps, Khorin brought him up to date on his discovery. "I was hoping to find something useful in the armory, at least to try to open a hole in the wall of this baktag cage. But what's there is as useless as a Ferengi. I've been thinking of replicate a raw targ head and make a knife with its fangs but I don't think i'll  go too far with a short-bladed weapon." He completely  meant it: making a primitive weapon with a jawbone was starting to be a tempting choice."For the moment, the best plan I've thought of is make a commotion big enought to get us beamed out to recycle. I know it's risky but maybe when we are out of this trap we have some opportunity to pave our way to the REAL shuttlebay. Surely there will be few casualties, but the more we are, more likely we could survive. We'll remember the fallen ones into our songs." Khorin knew it was a desperate plan, but it was the best he had with what little their captors had left them. In addition, MIA's were day-to-day of the pilots, and as a member of the Lone Wolves knew it well. However, it was better to die fighting than to remain there, being barely a toy of those creatures.

The Klingon clenched his fists, rattling his knuckles, as his footsteps advanced through the familiar-yet-odd corridors. Idly strolling through that fake Enterprise, unable to do anything, did nothing but increase his restlessness. He needed to act, he needed to beat those damned grey-beings until he turned them into discolored pulp for dared to turn him into a prisoner. Despite if they had fulfilled his most precious desire to become a worthy son of Qo'noS.
 
Cross kept asking him questions, this time about whether he'd talked to other captives. When Khorin was answering that he was the first one with whom he crossed after his inspection of the armory, the vulcan seemed to have an idea and enquired the starship computer about the sickbay location. Following his line of thought, he guessed he was looking for the rest of the prisoners. It was a clever first step: perhaps one of them had some useful skills that would allow them to draw a less hazardous plan.

Without need to agree about it, both men accelerated their pace to the infirmary, with the resolve of those who already have little to lose. When they arrived there, Khorin let Cross enter the room first, taking advantage of his higher height to take a look at its occupants. Close to the door were the felinoids that had spoted in the shuttlebay. It seemed that the crisis had passed and the two women held their wrists in a kind of greeting, while the man watched them a little farther, with a sinister look, barely human, in his blue eyes. Khorin grinned widely before that vision, whatever that quasi-human was before his correction, the pilot recognized the desire to kill as soon as he saw it, in tune with his own. And they were going to need all the killing machinery they had if they wanted to get out of there.

Beyond, several figures moved around some biobeds, but the separating panels prevented him from clearly distinguishing whether they were holograms or other captives. In any case, they had to recruit the cats first, without alerting their captors about their intentions.

[ Lt. JG Hi'Jak (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Hi%27Jak) |  Day 5| Observation Pen | Precept-ship Versant | 2100hrs ] Attn:  @steelphoenix @Brutus @patches
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"Oh this?" Jack gestured to the stub that extended to just three inches where his elbow should have been, and gesturing towards his now missing eye at the same time with his one remaining arm putting himself on a showcase for R'Rori. S/He didn't need to know all of the detials of what had happened to Jack, but he figured he may as well be polite about his situation. "This wasn't the doing of our hosts, my arm was... eaten by spiders."

If anything the Savi probably had saved his life, though he was still adjusting to the pain of having to breath sans one of his three lungs, though he wasn't light headed it felt so awkward. "Klingon, or at least I was, so I was saved by brak'lul, though I am annoyed with the current state of my body, the Savi took four chambers of my heart, one of my lungs, two of my stomachs, one of my urinary tracts, and one of my livers."

Jack rolled his eye it honestly didn't seem that important in the long run, and getting angry only caused him to get winded in his current weak pathetically human state. While he missed his organs that had been taken from him, but focusing on them would be depriving him of a way off this ship. What's more he had no intention of going to sickbay. He didn't trust anything that this simulation could replicate. Even though the clothes felt real he had no idea if the fabric would stay on him once he got out of the confines of this simulacra and he would get out.

Following the group to sickbay didn't really make sense, but it was a bit like the buddy system. However as he looked around his one eye did spy a man he knew of. He had tried to get files on all of his co-workers, to know the science department a little better. Plus there had been the whole cult of morali nonsense which he had saved Vivian from, so it didn't take much to click when he saw the other science officer walk up to the holographic O'brian.

Jack smiled for a moment stepping forward to interviene on that conversation. "Sorry to bother you O'Brian was it? but Morralli and I are needed in Stellar Cartography."

Once he had waited for Moralli to part ways he fell in beside the doctor. "Well, well if it isn't the god himself." Jack's tone was clearly jokingly sarcastic when he mentioned the cult. "Listen, I have a plan, and I need your help, I think we might be able to get out of here if we work together, but first we need to find the biggest computer terminal this ship has to offer, the one that would be simulated with the most amount of predictive power, I can explain the rest on the way."

~~~

An hour later Jack had settled into a seat, next to Morrali, the theory was pretty simple, since they were in a holodeck all they had to do was connect the holographic computer to the Savi's database where it was pulling all the server information from, if they could find that root and back trace, they could get a back door, maybe if they were really lucky they could even get an exit to appear. Of course the two of them first had to crack all of the safetynets on both the Enterprise E, and the Savi's Versant in order for that to work, and they had to do so without any triggering any responses like holographic security, or lock downs.

In short Jack didn't have the programming skills required to get that back door. "We don't exactly know how long we will be in this observation lounge, so we have to assume that we are working against a clock, tell me what I can do for you, and I will assist as best I can."

[Ens Nathanial "Icarus" Isley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Nathaniel_Isley,_callsign_"Icarus"&redirect=no) |  Observation Pen | the Versant ~ Shuttle Bay | Deck 03 | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] @Triage
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The shuttlebay was mostly calm, he used the word mostly because there was still movement around him. He could hear someone screaming in the distance telling nothing to shut up, and that got his attention. It took a moment for his body to respond, getting to his feet in the straight jacket was difficult. He was still restrained due to the fact that he had tried his best to do himself harm, something which the Savi apparently fround upon. So walking towards the noise he could already tell that this wasn't a reprogrammed response, at least not one that he could imagine being put into place, unless it had been put there to fool him.

Nathan for the moment had to discard the line of thought as he walked up to Sinead, because it didn't matter if she was a hologram or not, at the moment she was screaming at herself, in much the same way he had been doing for the past... gods how many times had he been sedated? he could have been out for an entire month as far as he knew, but for now he had to work with her.

"I'm the only one here, and I haven't said a word... till just now... and now, and then." Nathan's voice was course he had done so much screaming that it had ran dry when he had been put into his containment cell, so at best his throat was impacted. The Romulan's eyes watched Sinead with curiosity, who was she screaming at, why was she crying. "You're hearing voices in your head, good It's not just me for now."

He motioned to his restraints. "Can you get me out of this? The releases and locks should be on my back somewhere."

[ Lt. JG Sinead O'Riley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sinead_O%27Riley#Personality_Profile) | Shuttle Bay | Deck 03 | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan, @Numen, @steelphoenix, @SummerDawn, @patches, @Masorin, @YasyraTrill & @Fife
[Show/Hide]“Ah now,” said the "imaginary" evil Sinead, “op yeh get, me darlin' luv. There come a sassenach, I ken.”

Blood and fury, will the woman not shut up? Sinead lifted her head reluctantly, to look at the man who spoke. She remembered him vaguely; one of the Theurgy pilots...only, the last time she'd seen him, he didn't have as pronounced the ears or the brow protrusions as he did now. He had been...changed somehow. And why was he restrained so? He knew about the voices? Ah...he was a Romulan. The one on board the Theurgy, Drauc...Meony mentioned him, and if memory served her right, like the Vulcans, Romulans had some measure of telepathy or empathy.

He shouldn't be near me. I'm a threat to everything...

“Truth,” said the imaginary Sinead, “he do vale 'is joints, best yeh tell 'im, daurna go 'bout into the daurknin' with yeh, mang the bluidy beas' an' the bogles, aye?”

“Enoff,” said Sinead aloud, “'tis be plentiful, I bear th' weight, canna I have mine mind my own, inta blae yeh goh.”

She glanced at at the man, Nathaniel, and slowly unfolded herself, rising to her feet, she folded her arms over her bare breasts, and said, “'afore I harken an loosen yeh bonds, s'pposin' ya ken on meh howh yeh ended up so?”

I should just loosen th' bonds. He'll have a better chance. t' save th' captain an' crew.

“A wisdom I ken,” the imaginary girl in Sinead's head spoke, “'ow moch good tha' do him no can tell.” She smirked, though only Sinead could see.

[ Lahkesis Saugn | ICU | Main Sickbay | "USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E" | Precept-ship Versant ] attn: @SummerDawn
[Show/Hide][2130hrs]

"Ma'am. Are you with the recent transfers in?"

The voice cut through her daze like a razor. Lahkesis turned and blinked, her pale blue pupilless eyes focusing on the woman before her. She blinked again, unable to respond as her brain struggled to catch up to the world around her. The woman, a Caitian looked familiar, too familiar. A name drifted through her mind, yet she could not figure out how she knew it. Indeed she could remember reading the whole patient file for this name, yet she could not remember where she was when she had read it. A panic played itself across her face as she realized she did not know how long she had been on the ship she was now on or how she recognized the woman. Yet the face in the file, it was not 100% accurate.

Her mind had to be playing tricks on her. She took a breath to calm herself, to push the panic away. It fell away easily. There was nothign wrong. Nothing could be wrong. Everything was as it should be.

She blinked and smiled placidly. “Can I help you, Miss K’Ren?” she asked, her voice sounding almost hollow, devoid of any true emotion beyond the placid and fake happiness she projected.

[ Devyrie "Dragon" Okhala (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Devyrie_Okhala,_callsign_%27%27Dragon%27%27) | Observation Pen ~ Sickbay | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ]
[Show/Hide]When she woke up, it was a slow progress.

Devyrie Okhala couldn't quite make sense of her situation, her recent memories being too horrific to explain the - relatively - comforting sight of the sickbay environment. It looked like any other Federation starship, the people around her wearing uniforms she knew, talking in Federation Standard, and the biobeds made the known chirps and beeps she had come to assciate with 'home'. She sat up gingerly, seeing that she was wearing a patient's gown. When she swung her legs over the side, she drew in a sharp breath through her teeth, still store between her legs after...

...after...

It came back to her then. The voice. The chamber. The cannon. The Ovri. Her breathing quickened, not from the excitement that had been forced unto her body, but her own, genuine fear. All the things she should have felt, it came back to her as a shadow of the act itself, and she hugged her midsection, feeling sick. She had enjoyed it, but only while it lasted, because her body had been compromised, pheromones and aphrodisiacs making her mad. In the aftermath, there was naught but shame. Her green eyes darted around, lips numb, and saw a disposal bin close by.

With her breath caught in her throat, she stumbled over to it and retched like a dog.

After a while, she was only dry-heaving, and she struggled to maintain her composure. She felt a hand on her back, heard Beverly Crusher's voice. Talking nonsense. Dev already knew. She remembered the shuttle bay. It was all a holo-program meant to keep them calm and orderly. When she got her breathing in order, she hissed through her clenched teeth as her chest heaved. With a shaking hand, she raked back her white Alpha Centauri locks from her face, and raised her green eyes. The Savi had forgotten one thing. She was no guinea pig. She was no dog.

The expression of her face was that of pure hate.

She was a wolf.

---

[ Earlier | Engineering ]

Geordi La Forge walked up to the young Bajoran that sat below the glow of the warp core, a frown over his ocular implants. "Hey, Ensign... What's the matter?"

The young man didn't even look up, hugging his knees where he sat in the middle of Engineering, ignoring the other officers where they worked at their duty stations. He was wearing a regular uniform, but hadn't bothered to zip the collar. He was flexing his hand, as if he wasn't sure it worked properly, swaying lightly where he sat and stared into the distance.

"Are you all right? What happened?" asked Geordi, crouching down next to him. "Should I call for Counselor Troi? It seems like something is bothering you."

At last, the Bajoran lad spoke. "I betrayed her," he whispered, his eyebrows drawing together as if it hurt saying those words. "I don't know why. I loved her, working with her, but I... I just... Skye Carver died, and just... I threw it all away. And then, when I tried to make it better, make amends... I ended up here. On this..."

He seemed to find no words for it, but Geordi reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Listen, life can be-"

"Don't you bloody touch me!" hissed the Ensign, his brown eyes glinting like steel, and he soared to his feet. "End program! End it!"

"Hey, now Ensign, you need to calm down, or-"

"Yeah, I know, you'll liquify me, feed me to this ship and eat me! Just, just leave me alone. I'll... I''ll go see that counselor." There was no mistake to the derisive tone in his voice, the lie evident.

Yet after Geordi had watched him stalk out of Engineering, her soon returned to his holographic duties - taking no action in regard to the officer's behaviour.

---

[ Sickbay ]

When Devyrie emerged into the main area of the Sovereign-class ship's sickbay, she was adjusting the collar of her red departmental uniform - no Tactical CONN white available. Thus, she was supposed to be in the CONN department, but she didn't care. With her green eyes afire with intended payback, meaning to pay the Savi back in kind for what she'd been through...

...that very anger bled out of her expression when she saw the profile of a known face. No, it couldn't be... In disbelief, she stepped towards the younger woman where she was being checked upon by the holograms. Something was amiss with her face, those ridges more prominent than she remembered, but the colouring remained the same. Instinctively, she touched her own forehead, feeling the smoothness, and she pieced it together. It had to be. "Lau?"

When they made eye-contact, it was as if something snapped in Dev's chest, and her face contorted. It was her. She was there too. She rushed over, and embraced her. It was her. It felt like her. The Savi could not be so cruel that they would make holographic family members, could they? She felt so real, though, as if they were back on Alpha Centauri again. "Laurel, oh... How did you..?"

She couldn't tell when the tears came, but they were there, and she hugged her little sister close. Separated by years on years of duties, to be reunited in a waking nightmare. Even if she made eye-contact with two of her fellow Lone Wolves in sickbay, she didn't stop hugging Laurel. With tears in her eyes, she bit her teeth together, and inclined her head to K'Ren - better known to her as Neko - only with more fur than before. And then, she nodded to the Klingon. Hardtop, he was called, having entered Sickbay along with a bald Vulcan. She vaguely recognized other faces, but she was there for Laurel right then.

Until a woman with auburn hair stepped into sickbay together with... with an Android. It could be no one else than than Lieutenant Commander Data. The woman turned to the pale-skinned hologram and gave him a flat smile. "Thank you, Data. That would be all."

"It was my pleasure, Commander. I will return to my duties on the bridge now."

The tall human didn't give him another glance, instead turning to all those assembled in the main area of sickbay. For the life of her, Devyrie couldn't recognise her, but there was no need. She introduced herself.

"I am Commander Nerina (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Nerina), and before I came here, I was the First Officer of the USS Theurgy," she said with an authority that belied her apparent young age, "I need all recent transfers to accompany me immediately. There is a task of great importance that I need your help with. We will assemble in Ten Forward... Before we begin."

There was no doubt as to what the woman truly meant, and for the first time in a while, Devyrie felt a smidgen of hope there in the arms of her sister. The woman left sickbay, but slowly, people began to move after her.

---

OOC: All who have characters in Sickbay, please end your next posts with your characters being in Ten Forward, and post within 7 days. All who don't have characters in Sickbay, but wants their characters to end up in Ten Forward as well, you could write in your posts how Commander Nerina requests their presence there. If your characters doesn't get a call, Data simply didn't tell her that they had come aboard (that was what Nerina used Data for).

You can also choose to have your character ignore the call based on the fact that she mentioned the 'Theurgy', if that's your preference. If you have any questions, please, just PM me or post in the Plot Discussion thread for Chapter 02! :)

[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sarresh_Morali) | Observation Pen/USS Enterprise NCC 1701-E | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Masorin 
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Before Morali could begin to question the hologram, whom had managed a soft, "Well, yes, that's who I am," a new voice cut in. It was a familiar voice, though one that Sarresh had not had much in the way of dealings with yet. Simply, a voice he recognized from the science department, back on the Theurgy. Which he supposed was a blessing of a sorts. Plenty of the people around him, whom had been in the pen before the hologram washed around them, had been from some other ship.

"Sorry to bother you O'Brian was it? but Morralli and I are needed in Stellar Cartography." The man butted in, dragging Morali away from O'Brien. The now fully human padded along, not bothering to put the uniform he'd snatched on fully. Habit had compelled him to take only the pips he'd earned. Make things easier with the other prisoners later, he assumed.

"Well, well if it isn't the god himself." Jack's tone was clearly jokingly sarcastic when he mentioned the cult. "Listen, I have a plan, and I need your help, I think we might be able to get out of here if we work together, but first we need to find the biggest computer terminal this ship has to offer, the one that would be simulated with the most amount of predictive power, I can explain the rest on the way."

Sarresh looked at the man across from him for a long, silent moment. Then, he said, "You look like shit, Hi'Jak." Proving to himself as much as anyone else that, antisocial or not, he knew the mans name. Only then did he start to dress, there off in the corner of the bay. He shrugged his way into the turtleneck, pulling it over his head. "I'd tell you exactly what all they'd done, but they took my eyes and gave me...real ones." He sighed, and paused, looking at the one armed man. "What the hell, I don't have any better ideas. Lead on." This will be....something.

---

[Stellar Cartography | one hour later]

All around them, the lab showed what was 'local' space, as the two sat down on the platform anchored in the middle of the open room. Sarresh had been re-configuring the computer controls to link up a more direct set of code windows, instead of simple cartographic sensors.  He looked back at the soup displayed around them, and chuckled a bit. "Cute of them to include scans of the nebula," he gestured all around them, with small points of interest in the nebula highlighted. "I dont recognize all of these. Makes you wonder if its just a bad approximation of Federation files, or if the Savi are sloppy and we're seeing what they consider valuable."

He made a face and then drummed his fingers on the top surface before him. "What i need is interference ran. The Savi....and the simulation for that matter, if it holds true to form - are going to have countermeasures. Infiltration detection. If I'm launching a ton of spiders to dig back into the underlying structure, I'm going to need something to distract security. The real ones, as well as the holopgraphic ones." It was all so very crude, compared to what he remembered having at his disposal back on the Relativity. But he could at least work with it - it wasn't all that dissimilar from the controls in his lab.

"Its not quite time-stream monitoring, but you'd be surprised at how many of the principles are the same," he added as he started punching up displays, that seemed to form the shape of wave graphs, cutting through the local space around them.

[ Deacon | Main Sickbay | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E Simulation | Precept-ship Versant (Observation Pen) ] @SummerDawn  @patches  @Auctor Lucan  @Absinthe @Fife  @Numen

Deacon stepped forward, placing one hand on R'Rori's shoulder, the tip of his tail wrapping neatly around K'Ren's hand, each in an effort it seemed to keep  himself steady as he was as yet uncomfortable with the pacing and stance required by his new legs.  He frowned slightly at the newcomer and tilted his head slightly, ears flicking almost imperceptably although unable to tilt forward as he would prefer.  Human expressions were so unnatural.  It might almost be easier to wear signs to depict his emotional mood at this point; fitting, given the cloud of medications that kept him from sensing the emotions of those around him.  But, by comparison, he preferred the ignorance for now. 

He stepped forward to the newly arrived female, doing his utmost to balance on his own, his grips on his mate and their newfound companion now released.  Falling now was unacceptable.  These... things... had taken enough from him and he wasn't about to relinquish his pride.  "I have sworn my life and service to Ives," he said, his tenor voice clear, the underlying British accent more distinct than it had been as a kzinti. "His people are my pride."  Casting his glance back at K'Ren for a moment, he turned back to face the one who called herself Nerima. 

Straightening his back, he narrowed his eyes, the gold swimming amidst the blue glittering slightly, his tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "And I do not know you.  To say that I am skeptical at this point would be an understatement.  But, you have my attention for now."  Without his ziirgah fully functional, he found that his best option was to simply distrust anything unfamiliar.  The one called R'Rori had at least earned some consideration for her assistance and if K'Ren was willing to extend her trust, it was the last he could do.  But for a female human to appear in the midst of a hologram and claim so high a rank among those he'd taken to care for; it was far too convenient.

As the woman left to their rendezvous, he turned his gaze back towards K'Ren, holding out his hand to her.

[ Lt. Cross | Day 5 | Sickbay | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Numen @patches @YasyraTrill @steelphoenix @SummerDawn Anyone else...

Cross had accepted Khorin’s explanation of how he came to be aboard the Savi ship without voicing any questions. He had little reason to doubt the Klingon’s story, and even if he wasn’t entirely convinced of it’s truth, there was no way for him to verify it in either case. Better not to dwell on that right now. In the situation they had found themselves in, the only thing that mattered was escape.

As they made the last turn that the computed had directed them to take, they found themselves approaching sickbay. Cross had entered Sickbay just ahead of Khorin, and had taken in the scene before him. R’Rori was there, speaking with the other two felinoids. Ensign Okhala was present as well, currently hugging the human woman she had been so protective of in the shuttle bay. Cross had briefly wondered what was going on there, but quickly put it out of his mind. There were several medical staff present as well, though Cross had no way of knowing if they were holograms or not. His scan of the room was interrupted when he heard a woman’s voice behind him. He turned, looked past Khorin, and saw a very tall female officer standing just inside sickbay. She was speaking to a very pale individual that Cross would guess, based on the fact that this ship was a simulation of the Enterprise, was Lieutenant Commander Data. Having dismissed Data, the tall woman turned and addressed the room.

"I am Commander Nerina, and before I came here, I was the First Officer of the USS Theurgy," she said with an authority that belied her apparent young age, "I need all recent transfers to accompany me immediately. There is a task of great importance that I need your help with. We will assemble in Ten Forward... Before we begin."

The Theurgy’s First Officer? Cross thought as his teeth clenched and his hands formed into fists. Cross quickly glanced at R’Rori and Okhala, trying to gauge their reactions, as well as the reactions of the strangers they were with. This whole situation just keeps getting better and better. First the Borg, then the Savi, and now the fucking Theurgy? Cross took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. He could feel his emotional state teetering, threatening to topple into uncontrollable chaos. He was walking a fine line, but he had to keep it together. Losing it here would accomplish nothing. And traitor or not, the Commander and any other members of the Theurgy’s crew are in the same shit as the rest of us. He thought. As he continued his breathing he felt his anger begin to return to a manageable level. And like it or not, Commander Nerina is the ranking officer among the prisoners here. She might have the best chance of organizing an escape. Cross looked sideways at Khorin, wondering if the Klingon or any of the other strangers in the room were members of the traitor crew. Cross glanced at each of the others in turn, his eyes slowly moving around the room. Who could be trusted? Cross decided against saying anything for the time being, and instead just turned and silently strode out of sickbay. He felt a headache creeping up on him, and raised his right hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. His jaw hurt from all the clenched muscles and ground teeth he’d dealt with over the last few days, which did little to help improve his mood. Cross stalked down the corridor in the same direction as the remarkably tall form of Commander Nerina, making his way down the hallway towards the turbolift.

As he stepped into the lift and heard the doors to the turbolift hiss shut, another thought struck him. This task of great importance had better be planning an escape and not scrubbing the fucking plasma vents…

---

[ Lt. Cross | Ten Forward | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ]

Cross stood at the bar in Ten Forward waiting for everyone to arrive and get this underway. He leaned against the left end of the bar, elbows resting on the countertop, right hand cradling a mug full of dark liquid. Cross raised the coffee to his lips and took a sip, feeling the heat from the drink spread through his chest, briefly warming him. One problem that had sprung up since his correction was that he felt cold almost constantly. One benefit was that due to his increased metabolism and lack of Bajoran genes, he was no longer affected be caffeine, at least not in any noticeable way, and therefor free to drink as much coffee as he wanted. Prior to his correction, the Bajoran half of him had been quite sensitive to caffeine, and coffee would make his emotional control waver. Now it seemed he could drink an almost infinite amount without any side-effects.

I could do with something a bit stronger right now, though… He thought, watching as several more of his fellow prisoners entered the Observation Lounge of the Enterprise. He raised the mug to his lips again and wondered just how many of the strangers he had seen in the simulation thus far were from the Theurgy. If all of the abductees he had seen besides those from the Endeavour were crew from the Theurgy, then they were very much outnumbered. Add in the fact that they were unarmed, as well as the tiny detail of their ship being destroyed by the Borg, and they had little choice but to go along with whatever plan that this Commander Nerina had come up with. Or they could sit and wait for their memories to be wiped by the Savi. Even if the Theurgy was a ship full of traitors, right now they were the lesser of the two evils which Cross had to choose from.

Which did nothing to detract from the fact that cooperating with the traitors put a vile taste in Cross’ mouth. Cross took another swig of the coffee in an attempt to mask the taste of bile.

Cross had held a specific view of Starfleet officers ever since Starfleet had liberated him from the Cardassian prison camp. To Cross, Starfleet embodied loyalty, honour, courage and a strong moral compass. From what Cross had heard, the Theurgy had discarded all of those traits.

That being said, the Cardassians painted the Bajoran resistance as terrorists. But to the Bajorans, they were freedom fighters. Cross thought, temporarily playing devil’s advocate in his own thought process. Though I’ve no idea why Starfleet would accuse the Theurgy and her crew without reasonable grounds for doing so…

Regardless of their reasons, and regardless of the Theurgy’s guilt or innocence, they were still stuck in this situation together. Cross had a nagging suspicion that the only way they would be getting out of it would be together as well.

We can sort the rest of this mess out once we’re free from the Savi…

[ Ensign Laurel Okhala | Observation Pen ~ Sickbay | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @patches @Fife @SummerDawn @Numen @steelphoenix @Absinthe @Triage @Brutus . . . anyone else . . . I don't even know who all is here anymore lol.

As Laurel's patience for the holograms examining her began to fray, her sensitive hearing picked up increased sound of movement, and the distinct sound of someone being sick in the direction of where they were keeping her sister. Her already frayed nerves began to sing with disquiet as she squirmed in her seat wanting to go check on Devyrie.

"Ma'am please hold still we are almost finished." the 'nurse' instructed her. Laurel barely contained a growl at the stupid hologram as she felt eyes on the side of her face from where her sister had been kept. She heard that familiar voice and was suddenly free of the annoying medical staff as her arms were filled with her sobbing big sister. Frozen for only a second Laurel felt her body relax for the first time in what felt like weeks. Had it really only been six days since the destruction of the Endeavore.

"Dev." She got out passed the rock that seemed lodged in her throat, not proud of the way her voice cracked. She clutched at Devyrie's shoulders like she was her life line, burying her face in her sisters wild white locks and absorbing her familiar sent . . . even with the unfamiliar smells it calmed her as nothing else had since she had been altered. She shivered slightly with the pervasive cold and attempted to burrow closer into her sister for warmth, like she used to do when she was small in the winters on Alpha Centauri. For the first time since being captured Laurel thought  about her parents and their home. How worried they must be. If they had heard about the Endeavoure's destruction. That her father must be living one of his worst fears: both of his daughters missing because they joined Starfleet. And the reason why she had pushed such thoughts away came to the forefront too. Would she remember her parents and sister when the Savi were finished with her. In an attempt to shake off those thoughts, Laurel concentrated once again on listening to Dev's low, gruff alto as she spoke, feeling the rumble of her chest and the warmth she emanated, and surrounding herself in the sent of home as she tried to block out where they were. She was about to reply to Devyrie's frantic questions when an unfamiliar voice barged in. Breaking her momentary sense of ease.

"I am Commander Nerina, and before I came here, I was the First Officer of the USS Theurgy," she said with an authority that belied her apparent young age, "I need all recent transfers to accompany me immediately. There is a task of great importance that I need your help with. We will assemble in Ten Forward... Before we begin."

Laurel felt her hair stand on end and her eyes widen as her grip on her sister's shoulders slackened for a split second before clutching her even tighter. The Theurgy? She felt a wave of anxiety hit her at the name . . . felt that now familiar simmering storm of emotions well up and attempt to send her spiraling once more, but this time she had a life line she could cling to and she did. She glanced over Devyrie's shoulder to take in the officer who had been speaking and met the eyes of Lt. Cross, who looked almost as conflicted as she felt, if the clench of his jaw and stiffness of his shoulders was anything to go by, in the doorway. Before allowing her self to lean back and look at Dev.  Her sister seemed comforted by the presence of the other woman and suddenly Devyrie's radio silence over the past several months made sense. She had been on amission in pursuit of something she couldn't tell Laurel about when she had suddenly stopped making contact. Not even when Laurel had officially graduated and been granted a commission on the Endeavoure, had Dev contacted her, nor had Starfleet had a response for her or her parents inquiries about the missing pilot. "The Theurgy? Is that where you've been? We've been so worried about you!" She rushed feeling her chaotic emotions trying to over take her and her pride stung as she felt fresh tears tried to flow. Her by the book, straight laced sister had chosen the traitors over their family? No.She let go of one of Dev's shoulders to rub at her eyes and growl slightly in frustration as they refused to stop watering. No . . . that didn't make since, Dev was more devoted to their family than anything else and she loved Starfleet. Had talked of little else since Laurel was small. There had to be more to this story than Starfleet had let on. Devyrie would not turn traitor without reason. "That is definitely something you are going to have to <rotulai> to me, <rinam>." She sighed tiredly and raked her hand through her disheveled hair. She hadn't realized it was no longer in it's braid, and attempted to tame it before giving up.

"I guess we should follow her, huh?" she asked before reaching down to clutch Dev's hand as though if she stopped touching her sister she might disappear. Upon receiving a frustrated go ahead from the 'Enterprise's' medical staff the sisters moved to follow the others out into the hall. Speaking low as they moved but never letting go of each other as they went. Eventually, they arrived at ten forward with the others, had taken perhaps a bit longer than the others so that they could catch up.

Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Khorin_Douglas)| Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Sickbay ]
[Show/Hide]Att:  @steelphoenix  @SummerDawn  @Auctor Lucan  @Masorin @patches  @YasyraTrill @Fife @Brutus @Anyone else!


Finally some particulars started to fit together in Khorin's mind. How could it be that he hadn't recognized them? Neko, the caitian who stood in front of him, her hands entwined with the quasi-human with the eyes full of hate, was one of his Lone Wolves companions. He gave her a brief nod of recognition, still unwilling to reveal his alibi. The vulcan he had "recruited" still seemed useful, he needed to keep him on his side if his plan to provoke a disciplinary transport out of the holodeck was about to launch. While this line of thought was still in his brain, another familiar face, despite the modifications provided by his captors, became visible. Dragon. Their eyes crossed, but the woman, now human, didn't seem too willing to approach him, entangled as she was in an embrace with the Romulan girl he had glimpsed in the shuttlebay of that shithole circus. His acknowledgment was not subtler, just the biggest toothy grin he could paint in his face, even more when she seemed to have recognized him as well.

Being among his Lone Wolves sisters was bittersweet: on one hand he couldn't ask for better allies to have by his side, he would trust his life without hesitation in few people, and most of them were in his pack. On the other hand, knowing that the insult of being captured had spread to other Wolves ... although logical, given the circumstances of his own capture, made his blood boil. And now, given his new nature, it could make him explode in a violent outburst sooner or later. And at that moment he didn't know if he could control himself. He did not know if he wanted to.

An authoritative voice took him out of his gloomy thoughts. He turned to face the newcomer and, although he didn't recognize her at first, when he pronounced her name, Khorin stiffened in spite of himself. "I am Commander Nerina, and before I came here, I was the First Officer of the USS Theurgy," she said in a tone that the klingon remembered well. He greeted the XO formally and, when he realized what he was doing, with his back just in front of the vulcan, he couldn't doubt that his ally had noticed the breakage of his alibi. Well, in any case, it didn't seem that he could keep it for too long either.

When the Commander turned around, her determined steps leading her to the lounge, the pilot hesitated briefly, deciding to follow her once his new "ally" pursued her. Cross hurried up behind her with long strides, and Khorin followed him at a calmer pace, letting the distance grow between them until he lost sight of the red-shirt at an intersection.

The arrival of the former first officer made it clear that not only the Lone Wolves and the shipwrecked  of the Endeavour had fallen into the clutches of those beings, they had violated even the stasis chamber of the Theurgy. How many of his fellow crew members would be in that simulation? And out of it? What kind of horrors have they reserved for those who didn't have a hybrid lineage? Would they recycle them ... or something worse? The pilot opened and closed his callused hands, until his knuckles turned white. Every little discovery about his captors only increased his desire to pluck each of his gray heads out of their torsos with his own hands.

---

[Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Ten Forward | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-Ship Versant]


One of the side effects that he hadn't taken into account after his "correction" was that his taste buds had also been modified. He had always loved sweet drinks, the sweeter the better, and his mother had indulged that little human habit of his. It was their "little secret", something over what they had bonded every time they were together. But the Savi had ripped it off him, even that small distinctive feature. As soon as he reached Ten Forward he had ordered his favorite drink and, after the first sip, had found it vomitive. He never thought that the term "oversweet" could be so unpleasant. He had quickly changed it for a mug of Raktajino, a concoction he had never appreciated and found it pleasing to his palate like never before. Given the circumstances, it was possibly the least dramatic of the changes he had undergone, but Khorin found it especially irritating. Maybe because, for the first time since he was transported there from the pod where they modified him, he missed his human blood.

The klingon took a second gulp and made a sour gesture while getting up and looking around him. Despite he had controled his steps, he had been one of the first to arrive, only after the vulcan and, possibly, Nerina, who wasn't in sight nearby. No matter what, he had to assume the consequences of his actions, so he sat down next to the lieutenant, with a crooked smile in his face."Well, I think it's now obvious which was the starship where I was enlisted," he said bluntly. "I think that, given the propaganda out there about us, it's plain clear why I hid it, but I can assure you that almost everything that is said about us is false" He couldn't avoid a humorless chuckle, after lied in his face, he now ask Cross to trust him. Ironic. "I don't expect you believe me, I haven't done my best introduction and truly I'm an expert in giving the worst first impressions. But we still need each other to get out here." Possibly it was the worst apology in the history of bad apologies, but there was little else he could do. He simply composed a wolfish grin and waited for the other man's answer. Or a punch just in the middle of his face, depending on his mood.

OOC: Apologies in advance as this is all over the map. Trying to tie in several threads all at the same time. :)

[ K'Ren (http://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=K%27Ren) | Day 5 | ICU | Main Sickbay | "USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E" | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Absinthe
[Show/Hide]"I'm sorry to bother you Ma'am. I was just waiting for Dr Crusher to finish up with my bondmate and I saw a familiar face from the Theurgy." She paused, "If now is a bad time I can come back later?"

[ K'Ren (http://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=K%27Ren) | Day 5 | Observation Pen | Main Sickbay | "USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E" | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @steelphoenix @patches @anyone

With R'Rori's help, K'Ren managed to keep Deacon stable on his feet while the unplanned entrance of somebody claiming to be the XO of the Theurgy. She had no real idea who was in charge of the vessel, she'd barely been aboard a few days before she'd been ripped from her fighter and dropped into this cluster of a mess. Standing beside Deacon, she listened to the women speak, and when Deacon stepped forward, deferred to her mate as it was the male's position to lead, especially in conflict. Once he'd had his say, she took his hand, looking to R'Rori. "We're going that way anyways, guess we'll find out what she has to say that's so important." Helping steady Deacon, doing the best she could to steady him but discreetly so he didn't appear weak in front of others, she led the trio towards the exit and their rendevous in 10 Forward.

[ Lt. JG Hi'Jak (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Hi%27Jak) |  Day 5| Observation Pen | Precept-ship Versant | 2100hrs ] Attn:  @steelphoenix @Brutus @Auctor Lucan
[Show/Hide]
At the mention of a distraction of security Jack held up the stub that counted for his left arm, and looked at Moralli like he was crazy. "I'm not exactly a cavalier here." Jack said with a slight hitch of amusement. He really wasn't sure what was gonna happen past this point. He had no idea if their were safety measures for this program in built. Could the holograms here harm them he wasn't sure and he didn't really want to find out.

Jack sat for a long moment unsure of what to say when it came to that choice. "Well we have a problem. Physically we are sitting in a treadmill. I can bounce our signal around the ship from console to console, but if the Savi take a peak they would only need to utter the words 'end program' and suddenly we would loose all of the progress as well as be directly exposed to them. What's more they called this an observation lounge which probably means that we are being monitored. Even so if we are being monitored we can still see scratch elements of their coding, stuff we know aren't Federation, and they gave us tools. That tells me that they are arrogant, they are looking at us the same way we would look at an ant farm. Like we are bugs to them contained in glass and far away from any sense that we can touch them or harm them."

Looking down at his uniform the familiar com badge was on his shirt, and he paused for a moment. Tapping it he gave the familiar command, "Jack to Deacon, you read me?"

He waited for a response and then chuckled. "They even give us the tools we would need to come up with stuff."

"Hey deacon, listen to me. I've hunkered down in a lab with another member of the science department. We are trying to break out using some complicated data backtracking, We don't really know if we can get an exit to appear, and if we do we have no way of knowing how long it will be there for or where on the ship it will appear. If you can pass on the message, and maybe provide some distractions down the line it would be helpful. We aren't exactly combat units, but we can do our part best from here." He picked Deacon cause even though the two cat girls he had been with were more cute, he didn't know their names.

When the line closed he turned back to Moralli doing his part to cause little distractions, a fire drill on deck seven, turning the lights on and off in engineering and a couple random power fluctuation, little things that he could influence around the ship.  that would better allow him to divide the digital crews attention, but that wouldn't overtly arouse suspicions or cause the alarms to go off, he was also bouncing their console every two minutes to a new transit route, making sure that the signal appeared to be going from different places around the ship.

"So... your from the future right? You probably get this a lot, but... have you ever heard of me? Like I know our timeline is a fracture point, and nothing is the way it should be, but... does my name ever come up in any historical context?" Jack knew he probably wasn't the next Zephram Cochrane, but he hoped that he had some sort of cultural impact. He sighed unsure if the gruff around the edges Moralli would even share that kind of information. "I know the temporal directive, but honestly... we can't do much more damage to time than we already have."

[Ens Nathanial "Icarus" Isley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Nathaniel_Isley,_callsign_"Icarus"&redirect=no) |  Observation Pen | the Versant ~ Shuttle Bay | Deck 03 | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] @Triage
[Show/Hide]
Nathan blinked hearing the thick accent of the woman he was dealing with. After a few moments of silence trying to decode what she was saying he was pretty sure the woman was asking how he came to be bound, which was a smart question as none of the other subjects seemed to be. He looked down at himself wondering if he should make himself sound less dangerous than he probably was.

"I broke a wrist trying to get out of my cell, I was punching the wall in hopes that something would break and i could get out. It turns out that flesh breaks before metal does." He shrugged. "Don't remember much after that, they drugged me a lot, seddative after sedative trying to get me under control. Around the fourth time the arm drugged me, i remember grabbing it and trying to smash it against something."

Nathan would have scratched his nose or something cause his face was getting itchy. Even now he was struggling against the confines of the jacket trying to break free. "I don't think they liked that so much, and so the time after that when I woke up again they put me in this."

[ Lt. Cross | Ten Forward | USS Enterprise NNC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Numen

“Well, I think it’s now obvious which was the starship where I was enlisted.”

Cross snorted at the Klingon’s remark as he listened to the rest of Khorin’s explanation. Once Khorin had finished speaking, Cross raised his mug and took a long sip, allowing the hot liquid to swish around his mouth for a moment.

That might have been the worst apology ever… Cross had to suppress a small smile as he thought that.

The Klingon was right though.

It irked Cross to admit it, even if only in his head, but he couldn’t deny the truth of the statement.

We need each other if we’re going to have any hope of getting out of this…

Cross stopped swishing the coffee around his mouth and swallowed the mouthful of bitter drink. He inhaled deeply through his nose, then sighed and finally looked over and up at the large Klingon, regarding Khorin with cold, impassive eyes.

“While I find it hard to believe anything a bunch of lying traitors try to tell me, I do believe you in one respect.” Cross stated, his icy blue eyes boring into Khorin’s. “You really are quite adept at making the worst first impression imaginable.” Cross finally gave the Klingon a half-smile, shaking his head and dropping his gaze back down to his coffee. He raised the mug and drained the last of it’s contents before setting the empty mug down on the counter and pushing it away.

“We’ve got little choice but to cooperate for the time being.” Cross continued, then turned back to Khorin. “We’ll have to put any issues we have besides escape on hold until we’re out of this <fucking> mess.” Cross straightened from his leaning position and turned his body to face Khorin. “So what do you say, Klingon? Should we call a truce until we escape from these Savi <bastards>?” As he asked the question, he glanced over and saw that other people were slowly gathering in the lounge. The Commander would probably address them soon, and they would finally discover what she had in mind for their escape.

[Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Khorin_Douglas)Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Ten Forward ]
[Show/Hide]@Fife

Khorin watched how the vulcan took a long sip of coffee before speaking, leaving him waiting. He slightly shifted his weight in his seat under the scrutiny of  those pale blue eyes, not because it caused him discomfort but because he didn't know what to expect. Cross seemed as emotional as a human (more so, given his tendency to seethe with cold rage until that moment, he could almost be a Klingon ... almost) and it was nearly disconcerting.

When he left the cup and huffed gloomy, the Klingon leaned forward, gritting his teeth. "You really are adept at making the worst first impression imaginable." He finally announced. Douglas received the joke with a thunderous laugh, and hit the table highlighting his good mood. "I almost been killed by that gaze of yours, dude." He exclaimed frankly. "However it may be, I will try to change that impression before we leave this Kalhess-forsaken hole. Let's sign that truce and hope it's durable. It's not something you usually hear me saying, so feel honored.” He added , grinning broadly, while  he extended his right hand in front of him to seal the pact.

Shortly thereafter, he settled back and took a swig of his drink, which caused Khorin to pull a face again. Hu'tegh, he was starting to like this baktag. But unlike most members of the Fleet, he really knew of what was actually done, even if it was replicated. And think that the same ones who drank industrial quantities of raktajino later said that the gagh was disgusting. He shrugged internally. They had no idea. Finally he let out a low yelp, surrendering to the obvious. He had to get used to what he now liked.

"I just hope Commander Nerina has a brilliant plan on how to get out of here, or we'll have to carry on with our plan to begin a mutiny." He idly ramble, still looking at his mug distrustly. "She was a magnificent officer and a spunky woman; if she had not been my superior officer I would have put a move on her, you know what i mean." He said longingly. "Too bad they have taken away her ridges, another offense for the account of our captors. When I have them within reach, I'm gonna punch them so hard that even  their ancestors will rise from their grave in pain." growled Khorin to highlight his last claim.

[ Lt. JG Sinead O'Riley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sinead_O%27Riley#Personality_Profile) | Shuttle Bay | Deck 03 | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan, @Numen, @steelphoenix, @SummerDawn, @patches, @Masorin, @YasyraTrill & @Fife
[Show/Hide]Sinead observed the man. He was struggling to understand her accent. It was as difficult as Meony's most likely. Even amongst Bringloidi, her family's tongue was always more pronounced. Nevertheless, he seemed to be able to piece together what she had said, and she listened to what he had to say, heedless of the fact that he was more covered than she was at present. Bringloidi weren't known to be shy or modest. Her eyes narrowed on him when he began to show some subtle signs of discomfort and irritation. He did not give voice to this, but only commented on his binding clothes. She had read something of Earth human history, and they once used straitjackets to restrain mentally afflicted patients.

“I do wonder how best yeh would fight one such as him, no?” said the imaginary Sinead, and the real woman did her best to ignore her. “He's a Romulan, and quite th' threat. What would be th' best way...”

Despite this, even as she quietly stepped forward to tear him free, Sinead couldn't help but analyze his strengths and weaknesses, and the fastest most effective ways to subdue and if necessary, kill him. Romulans and Vulcans were on average three times as strong as a human. Their reflexes and speed equally as impressive, and Romulans were cunning, dangerous, and efficient. If he should become a threat to her, she would have to be faster, and seek to end the fight before it even began. Ideally, a stun phaser would settle the issue, but failing the availability of that, her best most humane method of incapacitation would be to find the nerve cluster between his neck and shoulder and pinch. Yet, though trained by Vulcans, Sinead wasn't telepathic and her eyesight was hindered by the standard lighting of the holographic projection of the Enterprise...E.

Her silvery-blue eyes squinted whenever she so much as looked upwards. Once she had freed him, she helpfully pulled the jacket off him and studied his size and shape as she did so. Romulans shared some similarity in nerve clusters as with humans, as did Vulcans, and basing on some of the sparring sessions she had with the few Vulcans on board the Resolve, she would have to hope she knew enough and would be fast enough to strike into them if it became necessary. But for now, he was her ally, and she remembered what he said when he first approached her. Moreover, three years travelling through Hell Sector gave her a healthy amount of wariness and paranoia, as well as the standard expectation of the very worst to happen at any time.

Murphy's Law, Captain Kendrick once mentioned. Something about anything that can go wrong will go wrong.

“Th' hologram of O'Brien offers a change o' clothing, p'haps even tools. Real or not, it gives us somethin' t' work with. I suggest we procure tha' first. Then, regardless o' th' Savi bastards' warnin', I will be tinkerin' wi' this wee holodeck, 'till we can find a way off it, so tha' together, mebbe 'tween us, we cain take down th' Savi, and break their necks. What do yeh think on tha' as a start of a plahn?”

“Well look at yeh nowh,” said the imaginary Sinead, “all bloodthirsty an' illogical. I do be likin' yeh.”

“Quiet.” Sinead snapped as she turned her head to the right to glare at the imaginary woman, who cackled merrily. Closing her eyes, the real Sinead sighed and shook her head. She offered to Nathaniel as a way of explanation, “They have...done somethin' t' meh. I fear my mind be not entirely mine. If'n I do become more darning then I appear nowh, yeh have t' stop meh.” she pointed to her head, “'tis somethin' they put in there. I no believe'n th' ph'tonic doctor'n be willin' t' remove it.”

[ Commander Nerina (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Nerina) | Observation Pen ~ Ten Forward | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ]
[Show/Hide]Despite the turmoil of recent events, finding herself waking up on an alien ship just the start of what she's been through, Commander Nerina tried to maintain her composure. She knew virtually nothing about what had happened to her whilst the Theurgy orbited Niga, much less how it came to be she was abducted by these 'Savi', but she knew for a fact that she would not abide it quietly. She did not wish her memories to be wiped from her mind, since if she list what little she knew, she'd never find her way back to Captain Ives' side. The last thing she remembered was being jumped by Adam Kingston, one of the officers in Security, and that he'd had her at phaser point. After that, she was not sure... conflicting images surfacing whenever she tried to recall what happened next. In some cases, she fought the security guard. In others, he was kissing her. She also had faint impressions of having sex with the man... but that seemed too unlikely.

In any case, some of her crew were captive alongside with her, and she had to get them back on the Theurgy. Evidently, there were other crews that had been abducted, at least judging by the rumours she'd picked up during the last hour. There were people from the Resolve - of all ships, the Endeavour, and the Harbinger. As for them, it was her duty as a Starfleet officer to end their captivity too, and to make sure their memories weren't taken from them. Her brown eyes fell on the strange, partially Corrected man with his tail and struggling gait, and listened to him whilst they began to walk down the corridor - a lot of other real people in tow.

"I have sworn my life and service to Ives. His people are my pride, and I do not know you. To say that I am skeptical at this point would be an understatement.  But, you have my attention for now."

Hearing this, Nerina nodded and raised a hand to her forehead, catching herself feeling for her lost ridges. She raked back her hair from her face instead and gave the man her answer. "I don't remember seeing you on the Theurgy, but thank you for your candour," she said, thinking what a Klingon would have done in answer to such an indirect insult - more or less calling her a liar. "I too have sworn to follow my Captain, and to stand by hir side, and given the perils of the Theurgy's mission, I have done my best to aid hir. My current objective is to get back to Ives and the Theurgy by any means possible, and to make sure you all come with me. To safety."

Or at least as safe as the Theurgy could be, given the circumstances.

Once the abductees had all filed into Ten Forward, Nerina walked up to a woman she had spoken with a little bit earlier. The hologram went by the name Guinan, and she was still behind the bar counter. "Thank you for lending us this area for a while. I will tell you when we're done."

"No need to thank me," said the dark-skinned woman, dressed in an orange dress and a hat that had to be alien in origin, "but good luck. You might need it."

Nerina gave the hologram's back a quizzical look, but they were left alone. Nerina came to stand in front of the bar counter and spoke to the assembled with a clear voice, trying to be as concise as possible since they didn't know how much time they would have before the Savi moved to counter their effort to organise themselves inside the program. "We're here because we've been abducted, and from what I have determined, we were picked because we had mixed genes. Now, it is only a matter of time before our captors end this program and wipes our memories, allegedly about to set us free somewhere. I don't know about you all, but I would rather retain my memories, and escape with my mind intact. I have been provoking the parameters of the program during the past hours, and I have decided to make this attempt to gather you all because - based on my findings - if they are about to release us, there should't be any scientific reason to observe us any more, correct? After my provocations, I am confident that the amount of time and effort spent on observing us while we are inside this program is limited... and we have the chance to organise ourselves a bit."

Putting her hands on her hips she added the obvious. "Of course, whatever we say might be overheard, so any efforts we make should be made in a better way than just talking like this. Therefore, I ask all of you present... Are there any telepathic people here, which might speak without the Savi hearing the words? If there are, please, step forward, and make yourselves known."

She waited, until there was a reaction, and those who felt confident in their abilities stepped forth. When there was no further movement, Nerina stepped forward, and leaned close to their ears, whispering as quietly as she could. Her words were no more than breaths against their ears. Once she'd given her instructions, she nodded for the telepaths to begin spreading the ideas around in the small crowd.

---

OOC: Assume there are 1-3 telepaths available, either present characters or NPCs, and gradually have them learn about the options. You could also have your characters suggest additional ideas through their thoughts or have them write by hand. You could even have your own ideas added to the list below as a suggestion Nerina might have made, depending on what kind of ideas you might have OOC as opposed to an emotionally compromised character. Posting time for all with present characters is 7 days, and you can end your posts with 1) staying and debating/making suggestions 2) the equivalent of "I will be heading to [insert relevant location]. Anyone willing to accompany me?" or 3) "I'll accompany you there", i.e. pairing up your characters in any way you like and start the shenanigans! Here are the first ideas from Nerina: [Show/Hide]

[ Lahkesis Saugn | Main Sickbay - 10 Forward | "USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E" | Precept-ship Versant ] attn: Everyone in 10 Forward
[Show/Hide]
For a moment Lahkesis felt a panic. The name of that ship. It sounded so familiar, yet she could not... "I'm sorry, I don't know that ship," she said forcing herself to come back to the present, to focus on the world around her. She felt some well of panic open up inside her and she had to escape, run away if she could.

"I'm sorry, I have to get back to work," she said curtly and quickly turned and walked away.

---

Her calm did not return to her. Something about the name of that ship, a memory perhaps? She could not be sure. She felt like she wanted to be sick, only she knew that her stomach contained nothing, it never did. She had never felt nausea like this before.

She did her best to move around her duties, but her focus was gone, she was too far gone to be of any use.

Finally, Dr. Crusher walked over to her. "Lahkesis, dear, is something the matter?"

Lahkesis did her best to focus, but she felt lost. Sickbay was all wrong. It was not designed right. Half the tools she was using were out of date and she kept entering data wrong because the LCARS system felt wrong. And yet she could not figure out why it all felt wrong. She knew it all like the back of her hand, and yet she felt like she had someone else's hands. "I... I do not feel..."

"Perhaps you should take the rest of the day off, you seem upset by something," Dr. Crusher said gently. "Should I tell Counselor Troi to expect you?"

"N-no... I think I just need some rest..." Lahkesis said as she did her best to smile.

"You go get some then," Dr. Crusher said and gave Lahkesis a gentle push toward the door.

Lahkesis made her way out of sickbay, pausing just outside the doors and looking around. Once more she felt inescapably lost. She had no clue which way to go, where her quarters were, or even who she should ask.

She spotted the woman who had approached her before. They seemed to know where they were going. Without thinking about it she found herself following them, keeping her distance as to not attract their attention. As she walked she became more and more aware that she did not know this ship, she did not know it's layout. This alone disturbed her. She knew things, she remembered them. And yet she could not remember this.

Her mind felt as if it were screaming at her as if there was something obvious, and yet she could not see it. She did her best to think of back to when she came on the ship, yet there was nothing. She did her best to even think of the day before, to try and remember any detail from it. She could remember scales, green scales. Thick, hot, moist air. But she couldn't remember the details beyond that.

She knew something was missing, and yet no one else seemed to be missing it. She could not explain it.

She was brought back to the present when she found the people she was following had gone into some sort of lounge. She went in as well and moved to the back of the group, doing her best to blend in. Some of these faces looked so familiar. She knew them. Or at least she thought she knew them.

[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Khorin_Douglas)| Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Ten Forward ]
[Show/Hide]Att:  @steelphoenix  @SummerDawn  @Auctor Lucan @patches  @YasyraTrill @Fife @Brutus @Absinthe  @Anyone else in the lounge


Khorin heard the commander speak while drained his Raktajino mug. He understood the tactical advantage of hiding their plans using the telepaths, but as any proud son of the First City, raised in Qo'noS, he felt a natural aversion towards those who could enter in his head without permission. Nevertheless, a part of his brain slided to the last time someone entered into his mind WITH his consent, and the pilot let out a lewd grin. Good ol 'times.

He shook his wild mane and tried to focus on the present, in the mission that lay ahead. As soon as the telepaths received Nerina's words and began to extend them, the klingon stood up and strode toward a young betazoid with a teal shirt, all meek and jumpy. "Well, tell me what the Commander said. But whatever you would go through my thoughts beyond what is necessary I swear I'll rip you to shreds," he growled unfriendly. The ensign shrinked under his gaze and nodded vehemently. Still, a few minutes passed until Khorin felt the unfamiliar pressure in his mind that indicated the advance of betazoid. He tried to relax but, despite all his efforts, he resisted the intrusion, unable to get carried away by the foreign feeling. The blueshirt knitted his brows and looked doubiously to the Lone Wolf. "This is not easy for me either, pup" He blurted out. "Yeah but neither we can stay like this all day long" The young man replied abruptly, daring for first time in his life. His words were received with a malicious klingon gaze that smashed any defiance in the young officer.  "SoH moq jIH vaj 'ay', vaj laD SoH je mamej jIHvaD!" Khorin hissed as an answer. In spite of everything, he surrendered at last to the advances of the telepath and listened, thanks to the ensign, to the words of Nerina.

It was an odd feeling to receive the officer's words directly in his brain, more like remembering them than actually listening to them, but he crossed his arms over his wide chest and paid attention. To his disappointment, while there were some extra ideas to get out of that hole, most of them were outside his area of ​​expertise, and what was in his hand was reduced to something very close to what he had planned with Cross. Yeah, maybe she had planned the steps beyond the transport or recycling room, but in general terms the plan was still to make a complete mess. He had hoped that  Commander would bring some more elaborate ideas, but it seemed that at the end, it was reduced to headbutts and thumps.Possibly not the most typical option Starfleet-wise, but truly the most Klingon option. And Khorin was willing to unleash the brand new half of himself.

He turned to Cross, who had his back to him at that moment and grabbed his shoulder without much consideration. "Vulcan, you are kind of touch-telepath or something, aren't you? Put your witchcraft in action and stay tuned to this conversation" He said dragging the redshirt behind him, to where the commander was. In his impetuous path, he approached the young ensign that had transmitted the information and also dragged him behind him. Thus, with a crewman hooked with each hand he show up himself in the presence of Nerina.

He released his two former “captives” and formally saluted the superior officer, to turn to Cross and look at him raising an eyebrow like "you follow me?" before turning to his other side to the betazoid. "Transmit what you say, to the commander and to my mate, here" He demanded

~ Commander, Cross and I volunteer to cause a riot large enough to made them transport us out of the simulation. We were already working on it just before you arrived.~ He dispatched with a mean grin. ~ However, apart from causing chaos and keeping the situation sufficiently hectic on the other side to give you a window to escape, my skills are not very useful in this situation, I would need an engineering or an operations' officer for our small commando. Anyone who can bring a little bit of brute force will also be well received. ~ Khorin cocked his head, waiting for the meek betazoid to convey his words, then add aloud. "Heghlu’meH QaQ jajvam". Certainly, it was a good day to die.

[ K'Ren (http://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=K%27Ren) | Day 5 | Observation Pen ~ Ten Forward | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: @Steelphoenix @Auctor Lucan @everyone
[Show/Hide]As everyone assembled in the ship's lounge, K'Ren made sure to remain close to her mate, there was no way in hell she'd be separated from him again, they'd have to kill her first. Holding his hand, she waited patiently, tail gently twitching, ears flicking about as she took in the words being said, some whispered, some under ones, breath. She'd not realized how good Caitian hearing was but as a full blooded Caitian now, she could make out a lot more of the world around her, including sounds. Eventually tho, one voice could be heard above the other's and K'Ren's attention was drawn to Commander Nerina. She listened, letting the women have her say, and explain what they planned to do. Escape seemed the only option, and K'Ren would rather die free then memory wiped and set free, a blank mind seemed as bad a prison even if she'd not see the bars.

She glanced to Deacon, wondering what was going through his mind, how he was feeling. She was still screwed up inside mentally, she wanted out of this photonic prison, she wanted to kill at least one of her captors, make them pay for what they did to her and Deacon, to repay them for the death of her cubs. She also wanted to hide in a corner, hold tight to Deacon, and bawl her eyes out but that last, would have to wait until they were safe again. For now she was a Starfleet officer, and she had a mission to complete. Letting go of Deacon's hand breifly she stepped forward, "Commander. As long as my mate remains at my side, I will go wherever you send me, and do whatever I must.." She flexed her paws, extending and retracting her claws, "Even kill if that is what is needed of me." The last was probably over the top, but she was prepared to kill if need be, and as Cait's were known to be pacifists, her statement would she hoped, show how serious she was committed to the mission.

[ Lt. Cross | Ten Forward | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan @Numen @SummerDawn @steelphoenix @YasyraTrill @Masorin @Absinthe Anyone else...

”Vulcan, you are kind of touch-telepath or something, aren’t you? Put your witchcraft in action and stay tuned to this conversation.”

Witchcraft? Cross thought quizzically.

Cross had been about to reply to Khorin when he suddenly found himself being dragged through the lounge by the eager Klingon. He found himself joined by a startled looking Betazoid, who had also found himself being towed along. Cross exchanged glances with the teal-shirted telepath, his bemused look contrasting with the young Ensign’s look of alarm. Cross had quickly grown accustomed to the Klingon’s brashness, and simply allowed himself to be swept along towards Commander Nerina.

He listened as Khorin addressed the Commander, glancing at her and giving her a weak smile and a shrug that seemed to say There’s no use trying to argue with him.

As the Betazoid was passing the message along to the Commander, Cross placed a hand on Khorin’s shoulder to get his attention.

“Khorin, I wouldn’t advise having me try to communicate telepathically. When I was only half Vulcan, I never had any sort of telepathic ability. I don’t even know if I’m able to do it, let alone how to do it safely!” Cross explained, concern showing on his face as he raised his hands to chest height, looking at them with uncertainty. “I might be able to communicate with you, but I could just as easily <fuck up> your mental processes by mistake and leave you a vegetable.” Cross’ mouth twitched as he held back a smile, thinking of a mocking way to continue the statement but deciding against voicing it. “It would be dangerous to even attempt it.”Cross realized as the words left his mouth that he had chosen them poorly. As a Klingon, Khorin was likely to take the possibility of danger as a challenge rather than a warning.

I hope he realizes this isn’t a danger he can face with a bat’leth and some brash words… Cross worried as he looked at the large, ridge-headed man who had become his ally. I don’t think they write songs commemorating warriors who have their brains fried.

Khorin puffed out his chest and gave Cross an admonitory gaze. “C’mon, don’t make the Commander wait. What are you, a P’Tok or a gap-toothed targ pup? Man up, Cross!” He snarled, unwilling to look gutless in front of an officer and, worse still, a beautiful woman. He moved his ridged face closer to the Vulcan’s, until their noses almost touched. “The first mishap and you’re already throwing in the towel, I thought I had allied with a warrior, not a sissy whiner.” Khorin whispered in a low voice, challenging him to say otherwise.

Cross gritted his teeth at the Klingon’s words, the already wavering control over the storm of his emotions seeming to loosen. Anger burned in the Vulcan’s unblinking eyes, and his hands balled tightly into fists at his sides, causing several of his knuckles to crack.

“There’s a difference between throwing in the towel and using some common <fucking> sense.” Cross growled, “But if you’re in such a <fucking> hurry to have what little mind you possess turned into stewed gagh, then I’d be happy to help!” Cross’ growl had turned into a snarl by the time he’d finished speaking, and green veins could be seen bulging at his temples as he fought to maintain what little control he had. Ignoring the Commander, Cross grabbed Khorin’s arm and dragged the Klingon back towards the bar, shoving him roughly towards one of the stools with a command to sit.

“With how empty that head of yours is, there may not even be anything for me to link with!” Cross grumbled, reaching out and non-too-gently taking hold of the Klingon’s head. Untrained, and unsure whether there was a proper position for hand placement, Cross simply placed his hands on either side of Khorin’s skull, squeezing the man’s head slightly from frustration as he closed his eyes and tried to…

To what? Reach out with my mind? How the hell am I supposed to do that?

Khorin shifted himself on the stool, causing Cross’ grip on his head to shift. Cross reached further back with his left hand and roughly gripped the Klingon’s ear. “Hold still you ridge-headed <bastard>!”

Cross recalled a time when K’Shem, his mentor, had performed a mind-meld on him. The image seemed to spring into his head out of nowhere.

What was it he had told me?

“Try to empty your mind, Klingon.” Cross growled at Khorin, cracking open one eye to look at him as he added, “That shouldn’t be hard for you, should it?”

[ Lt. R'Rori | Ten Forward | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ] @SummerDawn @steelphoenix @Absinthe @Fife @Numen & anyone else

R’Rori listened attentively to the people around hir as the woman claiming to be Theurgy’s XO spoke and then Deacon had his say in Sickbay. It was a mild shock that so many of the ship’s crew seemed to be prisoners here and s/he idly wondered what that meant for the ship itself. S/he watched the exchange curiously and carefully noting down the reactions of people around hir. Some seemed more surprised than others.

As the trio made their way down to the hall to the lounge, R’Rori found hirself operating once more as a part of the background, a position s/he found comfortable and natural. Deacon seemed to lean more on K’Ren during the walk and R’Rori only intervened when he asked. When a man’s voice came over the comms, s/he was startled. Had they really given them working communicators?

After he finished speaking, s/he spoke up, the tone of hir voice indicating some amusement. "So, he's asking if we can distract the guards ... somehow. You can barely walk, I don't know how to fight, and she's too concerned about you to pay attention to much else. Hopefully, this Nerina will have a plan."

S/he kept a hand lightly resting on Deacon’s arm as they entered the lounge to make sure that they didn’t get inadvertently split up. The Commander made her speech and then briefed telepaths that then spread out the ideas throughout the crowd. R’Rori could see quite a few groups already forming, some sticking with fellow known crewmembers and some deciding to work with those from other ships, including the Theurgy. Captivity had a way of making one realize they couldn’t be picky about allies.

A man in a teal uniform that R’Rori vaguely recognized from a previous assignment was making his way through the crowd, the single pip as well as strange mixture of alarm and focus on his face giving away his junior ranking and inexperience. He seemed to briefly stop by groups that would then start talking to each other after a minute or so. He must be one of the telepaths then. Betazoid? Someone else s/he couldn’t place was following him, encouraging him when he paused. A friend, then, to give him the courage he needs.

At last, the man came up to their group after a circuitous route. He looked startled at Deacon’s response to his attempt to brief them, but nodded slowly and seemed to focus on K’Ren and R’Rori instead, filling them in the details telepathically while whispering the basics for Deacon. R’Rori nodded and thanked the young officer, who then moved on to the next group with his friend.

“Well, we already know of one person who is probing the simulation. I doubt they made it here but now this … Jack person isn’t going to be the only one doing it. I’m a counselor and a pacifist, so I’m not going to be of much help in a battle, especially without my Caitian traits. I can spot the Endeavour’s Chief Tactical Officer from here and he looks to have picked up a Klingon friend. Perhaps we can work with them?”

[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sarresh_Morali) | Observation Pen/USS Enterprise NCC 1701-E - Stellar Cartography | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Masorin @steelphoenix @Auctor Lucan 
[Show/Hide]
Turning to fire off some retort at Jack, Sarresh paused, opened his mouth, then closed it. The former Klingon-halfbreed had raised a very good point, and there was little that the former Ash'reem could do to argue that. In a fire fight, the man would be easily disarmed. Sarresh winced at just how bad that pun sounded in his head and decided it was best to leave it their for the moment. If they were going to get out of here they needed to work together. After all, he had a mission to live for and ....and other reasons. An image of a half shaved head, fiery locks and passionate eyes, with a wrinkled nose flashed in his mind.

Alienating his current ally would be stupid. So instead, Sarresh gave a nod. "Thats a fair point," he allowed, in reference to the arm. His fingers punched up a few commands, readying a program, then pulled back from the console, turning in his seat to watch Jack, the way his face scrunched up. Clearly the other scientist was in deep though. When he began to work through his logic aloud, the time traveler gave a nod to show he was following. Jack wasn't saying anything that Sarresh didn't already know - he was well versed in how holograms of this century worked, and the genera principles of movement inside a holodeck. The scientist's assumptions about how they were likely being watched was also fairly obvious to Sarresh.

What was not obvious, initially, was the mans point, and when, exactly he would get there. The thorough nature of Jacks methodical thought process did not, in and of itself, annoy Sarresh. He just felt the pressure of time running out, bearing down on him. How long would the Savi allow them to run around like tiny mammals in a holographic maze before they decided to reboot their minds? Once again, Sarresh had memories that he'd actually like to hold onto - and this time he wasn't being given a choice.

And to be fair, Sarresh was in no mood to sympathize with lab animals. Not that most of his experimental work dealt with those, but all the same...

"I follow you so far," he said, making a little hurry up gesture as Jack called out to Deacon the ..actually I have no idea who this Deacon is. Someone from the ship, obviously, but beyond that... Sarresh scrunched his face up, focusing his thoughts and coming up with absolutely nothing. He must not have met the man, and the memory filters in his head were blocking any future knowledge he might possess. 

Still, Jack's plan, as he understood it to unfold, seemed to be reasonable. And it was enough to let Sarresh launch the first of his little probes. Visually, it seemed to launch out across the nearby star systems, along the graph he'd laid out over the local space group. He liked a little theatrics to his work, and a smirk curled onto his face. "let's see how long that takes to get caugh," he muttered aloud as Jack worked and he prepped the next packet.

And then it happened. While they were both busy, Sarresh with his probes and prods, Jack with his distractions, the latter spoke up again.

"So... your from the future right? You probably get this a lot, but... have you ever heard of me? Like I know our timeline is a fracture point, and nothing is the way it should be, but... does my name ever come up in any historical context? I know the temporal directive, but honestly... we can't do much more damage to time than we already have."

Ah, the question, he thought. Eventually, they always ask the question. And then they go on and on about how bad could a little foreknowledge be. Morali had been asked this often enough since coming back to the Theurgy, but even with the memory engram manipulation he'd undergone, he was positive that his posting here was far from the first where he'd been asked that.  True enough, this timeline has already become pretty fucked up...he's not wrong there.

"Nope. Not at all," Sarresh said after a moment of reflection, turning his gaze from the mappings in front of them, which now looked like small fleet maneuvers being conducted in the Azure Nebula's representation in stellar cartography. Taking pity on Jack, he elaborated.

"You may very well have been famous by the 29th century. Another Henry Archer, or Benjamin Jefferson," a pause, a frown, "Or was it Franklin? Never mind," he waved it off. "Point is, it doesn't matter how famous you might or might not have been, I don't know. Or well, I don't remember. See, there's this thing in here," he tapped his skull, "that has stripped almost everything I used to know from me. Including most of my own life and choices prior to Theurgy." He didn't know why he was explaining this, but what the hell, he did anyway.

"Some kind of memory coding, 29th century tech that's pretty damn good at what it does. I get...snippets, when nessecary. Half the time it manifests as a seizure that leaves me with drool running down my chin. Not pleasant. Someone's cruel idea of a joke, I'm sure." He scowled. "Then I'll know something that I shouldn't and be able to act. Its their way of protecting the time-stream, while allowing me the tools I need to do what I do.  Which frankly is where a lot of all that comes from," he said, gesturing to the spiders he had let loose on the 'Enterprise's' info-network.

"So...I have absolute no idea who you are, historically speaking. And as you pointed out, we're in a forked timeline and everything is highly messed up as is. There's no guarantee that anything I might have known about you prior to coming back is now still true. Sorry," he added almost as an after thought, releasing another probing virus. So far, he wasn't having much luck. "I couldn't tell you one way or another."

[ Deacon | Ten Forward | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E Simulation | Precept-ship Versant (Observation Pen) ] @SummerDawn  @patches  @Auctor Lucan  @Absinthe @Fife  @Numen @Masorin

As he traveled from sickbay to the rendezvous in Ten Forward, he found the journey interrupted by an unexpected comms call.  He searched his memory for any reference to someone calling themselves 'Jack', such as it was.  Why call him?  There had to be any number of misappropriated Starfleet personnel meandering about in this simulation.  Klingon, perhaps?  A half-breed he'd met when he'd first come aboard the Theurgy?  The facial features were indistinct in his memory, but names, at least, he could recall.  The rest he would remedy in time, should they escape their holographic cage.

He took a deep breath before replying.  "I will relay the message as appropriate.  Recommend you minimize use of comms," his gaze moving between K'Ren and R'Rori as he worked to improvise the conversation.  Discretion was important but the thought of facing the Fanged God as he was now and asking mercy for an outright fabrication -- that was not something he wished to explore.  Truth.  Truth in all things, even if unwise.  It was kzinti.  "Others could be attempting to use this channel and we wouldn't want to anger those on the bridge."  Vague, yet true at its core, although it took some effort not to end the statement with 'yet'.

R'Rori was the first to comment.  "So, he's asking if we can distract the guards ... somehow. You can barely walk, I don't know how to fight, and she's too concerned about you to pay attention to much else. Hopefully, this Nerina will have a plan."

Deacon's ears would have flattened back were they capable.  At home, such statements would result in a challenge, bared fangs and likely the loss of someone's ears.  Fortunately, the medication that had dulled his ziirgah managed to numb his more extreme reactions, and here and now, a rogue outburst served no one.  What bothered him most wasn't her accusation, but her accuracy.  He'd allowed himself to wallow in self pity and loathing when his first and only thought should have been escape.  He'd forced K'Ren to be the strength of their union when it should have been his responsibility to support her.

He straightened himself, squaring his jaw as he regarded her, perhaps with a bit more hostility in his glare than he intended.  Holding up a hand, he took another breath.  "You are correct.  Whether I have to walk or crawl, I will ensure the safety of my pride.  That is the first duty of a Black Priest.  The well being of the pride above all else, no matter the cost."  Looking back at K'Ren, he drew her close, placing his lips softly against her forehead.   "That said, I have never heard of this Nerima person.  Ives' second was a male name Trent.  So I place as much trust and expectation in her as I do our captors.  But she is about to have the attention of the others and if we're not there, we won't know what she plans."

That said, he again proceeded down the hall, this time making an effort to walk on his own, stumbling momentarily before he managed to find some compromise close to walking on the ball of his foot, the closest approximation to his old gait.  It was ungraceful, but he managed to find stability with some effort, his hand extended out to his mate not to support him, but to accompany him.

Once inside the simulation of Ten Forward, Deacon was at once amused and insulted that the Savi had thought to place him in a position not unlike the one he held on Theurgy.  Coincidence, he wondered, as he studied the crowd, making a concerted effort to pinpoint faces, voices, names.  R'Rori's words in the hall had been a challenge, whether she'd intended it as such or not, and Deacon was determined not to fail.  It was one thing to disregard such disrespect, but he recognized the dangers that came with him not rising to meet the expectations of those around him and those that had raised him since he was a kit.

When Nerina declared her intent to use the telepaths among the crew as her messengers, Deacon could not hide his disdain, his fangs clearly bared as the betazoid first approached them.  Yes, he rationalized that secure communication was best and under the circumstances, telepathy may well be their only available option.  But, as he'd reminded himself so many times on the way to this meeting, he was kzinti, and kzinti did not trust telepaths.  Fortunately, he was also medically inured to their intrusion thanks to the inhibitor that kept his own senses from randomly reading the emotional states of all those nearby, so his fundamental dislike couldn't simply be set aside for the 'greater good'.

Fortunately, there were others more receptive with him and R'Rori verbally transcribed what had been disclosed to her in turn.  He listened quietly, eyes flicking in the direction she indicated, revealing another klingon and a bald headed vulcan dourly observing the events unfolding.  He nodded in agreement.  "But we should avoid anything larger outside of this establishment.  Starfleet crews don't seem to gather in such large numbers unless... 'planning something'.  And for the moment, that is the last impression we should be giving."

As they began their approach to the bar, Deacon pondered, "What I don't understand is why go to all this trouble?  It took a great deal of convincing, straakh and the promise of increasing the ranks of the pride to get the doctors on homeworld to even consider working on me.  Why would these Savi take it upon themselves to single out hybrids and 'purify' them in any way shape or form.  There is still a fundamental cost, be it in time or resources, that could otherwise be spent to other priorities, and given the ease with which they elected to ... what was the term? ... recycle one of their prisoners who dared to resist?"  He paused.  "No, this doesn't make sense.  This isn't a charity, nor is it a religion.  These... things care nothing for us as individuals and our component races are hardly threatened with extinction for lack of one more purified genetic contributor.  So why 'correct' us, wipe our memories and send us back?  That neither prevents us from propagating outside of our species again, nor does it explain the sheer amount of invasive technologies necessary to support the introduction of a new identity."

He frowned.  "There's more to this than we've seen."

[ Lt. JG Hi'Jak (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Hi%27Jak) |  Day 5| Observation Pen | Precept-ship Versant | 2100hrs ] Attn:  @steelphoenix @Brutus @Auctor Lucan
[Show/Hide]
Getting to hear back from Deacon that they should keep off the communications made sense. Jack hadn't really been thinking about it, the mere act of being in this glass cage kind of meant they were being monitored.

Jack didn't look up from his console when Morali started to speak. Listening to the story and monitoring his side of the equations that were supposed to eventually lead them to a way out of here, his one eye blinked a bit when he spoke about all the memories that had been taken from him. The coding sounded horrific, Jack had made a lot of mistakes in his life that he wished he could take back, but never just forget. Forgetting was the one thing he really couldn't do.

Which made the Savi's experiment on them all the more terrifying. He looked at Morali for a moment and sighed. "I think you mean Edison, I'm a scientist not a historian, but I'm pretty sure the guys name was Benjamin Edison, he did stuff with electricity, killed an elephant with a kite and a metal key. Man talking about it like that... earth history is fucked up."

He suddenly very much missed the Klingon half of his body. Human's were often viewed as a bit on the violent and unwieldy side of the spectrum. Barbaric creatures that probably shouldn't have reached space flight as quickly as they did. They eliminated war on their planet yes, but they were still children in the galactic scale of things.

Those thoughts and feelings aside he started to focus on his screen, but was drawn towards something he found. It was a soft ping in the communications array, catching it, he blinked for a moment. "Huh."

He had been monitoring communications sent through the enterprise network, trying to back trace it to the world outside of the simulation. He knew he wasn't going to find anything important or password protected, but it seemed as if he got really lucky. His hand scrolled over it trying to make sense of the alien language. "Take a look at this, Savi have an email system."

It took him a moment or three to crack through to actually be able to read the message the computer doing some work to translate the thing because it was being displayed on the sims computer. This was the kind of thing that Security was always trying to crack down on when it came to unsucure messaging systems. 'Please change your password encryption on a bi monthly basis, please use caution when giving out vocal override codes.' or his personal favorite 'please separate your personal, and professional com traffic and do not use Starbase resources to send illicit emails while you are drunk Hy'Jock if I get one more of these complaints I'm taking you down for harassment.' He let out a wistful sigh. "I miss you, Dotnihl."

With the English and Savi transcripts he could actually start working on soft translations finding out how their language worked, extrapolating it, and what he was finding was a lot of Math, and patterns. It seemed they didn't use an alphabet so much as geometrical equations for writing, it was a bit like an A1Z26 cipher only with a bit more encoding, there was no direct translation for a few of the words, and he had no idea what the thing would sound like, but if he sat here and stared at it for a few hours he could actually work out the math in his head to make sense of it.

Leaning back in his chair for a moment he hummed and hawed as he looked over the Savi email. His remaining hand tapping on his chin as he pondered "It's more like binary than Federation basic. A language deprived of artistic behaviors it's just mathematical in nature, like the civilization it's built around it's advanced but dead on the inside. A giant husk of science with no end point."

[Lt. Zephyr Praise | Observation Lounge ~ Ten Forward | The Versant ~ Enterprise]
@SummerDawn @Fife @Numen @Auctor Lucan @Masorin @patches @Absinthe

Seven Days; a week.  A week since I've been relegated to suffer my existence at the hands of some sort of Purist Cult.  Seven days since I was retrieved and brought into some sort of chamber.  Since I was forced into a tube and told to pick whether I would prefer Humanity or Betazoid.  She had picked, it was pick or die.  Those were the choices....

==Flashback==

Zephyr tried not to show the Savi that she was afraid.  Even though she was.  She had been through a lot as a Starfleet officer in her career.  Horrendous Botanical experiences abounded for the young Botanist that had only recently seen her thirtieth birthday.  She stood in one of the tubes, trembling slightly as the odd language from the Savi went on around her.  As a Xenobiologist she was somewhat curious and cognizant of their bodies.  The white large heads which likely boasted large intelligent brains.  Especially so, if they were doing this kind of work on people.  To strip the DNA of half a person and replace it with what would make them pure was indeed science beyond the means of many civilizations.

Large black eyes, likely that the actual irises and muscles were hidden behind the large forms.  She was curious as she stood there waiting for the translator to come on whether they could see in color at all or not.  Many species lacked the rods and cones that made for excellent color vision. 

Then the translator initiated.

“Subject Eight One Seven, you have been selected for correction based on your hybrid nature.  You will see two buttons in front of you.  Human.  Betazoid.  You will pick one.  Failure to pick one will result in you being recycled.”

“Well that doesn't sound very comfortable.” she tried to quip, her lips and throat were dry she had been here for a while.  How long?  She couldn't even remember at this point.

“Your choice in ten... nine...” a countdown appeared on the inside of her tube and her vision swam slightly as she quickly reached up and punched one of the buttons.

The pain was the sort that was all encompassing.  Radiating from the center of her body to the fire at the end of every nerve in her body.  She had screamed until she could no longer hear the sound because her voice had gone completely.  Clawing at the smooth interior of the tube as she fought for and sought an escape.  Her body shook, shuttered, and changed.  Genes ripping and tearing themselves apart, other things being put in their places. 

This can't be right, this can't be a thing.  You're not supposed to change DNA like this.  There has to be consequences.

When it was done, she slumped down into her tube.  'Subject Eight One Seven, the process is complete you will be sent to a cell to recover.” 

Is that what I am now, subject Eight One Seven?

She couldn't even respond, she was too tired, and her body still shook.  Muscles twitched and with each one they radiated pain that made her tremble more so.  Her body felt raw, and painful, and as if she had been stripped down and put back together.  Even her joints hurt.  For once, she was glad of the warmth of a transporter beam at the hands of the Savi, it meant she didn't have to force herself to walk anywhere. 

She was naked as she materialized in the cell.  She couldn't even think straight right away.  Her mind a jumble.  So she passed out, naked, on the small bunk.  The minute cushion underneath her body did little to actually give her comfort but then she doubted that being here was going to give her any comfort what so ever.  She slept for a while.. her body raw and exhausted.  Her mind had shut down somehow though she couldn't figure out why and was too tired and push at the edges of whatever changes happened in there.

“Subject Eight One Seven.”

The voice startled Zephyr awake from her cot and she sat up.  Her mind was groggy but her body felt just a little better than before.  She had always been a resilient person.  “Your food has arrived.  You will eat or you will be recycled.”

“You know, at some point that threat is going to get old.” she said her lips, mouth, and throat dry so she was pretty sure she was the only one that heard it to begin with but still.. it had been said and she felt better for it anyway.  Sure enough, food appeared in her room.  She was still naked but then that had never truly bothered her.  Next to her on the bed, neatly folded, was some sort of gown.  She picked it up and studied it.  Hospital issue, how kind...

Pulling it on over her body she rose her arms to tie it behind her.  Each movement ached and reminded her of how sore her body was.  The food was some sort of meat, vegetables, and something to drink.  She went for that first.  Downing the entire drink until it was gone she leaned back in her bed for a moment taking a break.

“You will eat Subject Eight One Seven.”

Zeph jumped slightly, surprised, at the Voice of God that came from the speaker system in her room.  “I'm taking my time, thanks.” she said as she brushed a hand through her hair and sat up again.  Apparently, they were micromanagers.

The noise from the people around her was making her head pound.  Their emotions, as raw as her own, brushed against her still damaged mental barriers and she just lay her head down on the bar of Ten Forward.  She wasn't drinking anything, Subject Eight One Seven just lay there, closing her eyes in the sea of people that she didn't really want to talk to.  She could tell, with their various minds, that they were all Starfleet.  She knew none of them.  She knew that she should probably mingle, ask, something.  But she felt raw and she could not get rid of this headache.  The headache that came from the fact that she was no longer just a Half-Betazoid.  She had gone full Betazoid in her correction and the mental voices of those around her were assaulting her.

Come on, you have barriers, you need to get them up, it's been seven days.

Subject Eight One Seven whimpered slightly as the world went on around her.  She knew that this wasn't a ship, it was a holoprogram but she had to admit she was glad to be in her uniform.  The pips were right, it fit right, and the teal that had been her color for the last couple years made her feel that much more at home.  Her hand rose and she ran her thumb over the small bumps of her pips on her collar.   Now that they were there, back, she couldn't stop touching them.  It wasn't as though she had truly cared about them ever being there before.  But now, now they felt like they were a part of her that she needed to keep in contact with.  A part of her that was going to help her pull her mental self back together.

“You look like you could use this.”

Eight One Seven opened her eyes.  She wasn't sure if they were still the hazel-green she had grown up with or not but she was pretty sure with her correction her eyes had gone black like every other Betazoid in the universe.  She shifted her tired eyes with the circles around them to see a young man in a Engineer's Uniform.  Why is it always Engineering.  Maybe it's the beefy arms.  Maybe it's the strong chin with a color of stubble down the jawline.  Maybe it's the strength... maybe I just have a type.  He sat a drink down in front of her, and the liquid sitting in the clear glass was something that probably could have warmed her from the inside out.  At least it's not pink.

Eight One Seven drug herself up off the bar top and into a sitting position as she reached over and took the glass.  Up to this point she hadn't said a word, but it actually helped to focus on someone. 

“My name is Alistair Calhoun.” he said smoothly as he watched her take the glass in her slender Doctor's fingers and bring it to her mouth.  It wasn't real, she knew that, but anything that resembled normal life was something that helped her focus.  Reminded her of who she was.  She had been in this hell hole for Seven Days. 

“Nice name.” she said her voice sounded smooth even to her ears, perhaps it was the correction, perhaps it was just because she hadn't heard herself speak in days.  Not since day one.  Not since she hadn't needed to.  Even in the Observation Pen she had kept to herself and tried not to let the voices in her mind send her to the crazy house. 

“Could I get yours?”  That was the question wasn't it?  Could he?  Should he?  Did she remember it.  It seemed like forever ago that she was called anything other than Eight One Seven that it was almost a struggle to retain her memory of her name.  Solitary confinement along with sudden telepathic powers had definitely bot been something easily done.  She had only ever spoken mentally to one person, and he had been her best friend many years ago.  A Vulcan, they had mind melded while drunk once and became very close.  They never dated, but they were a great team.  That and the entity the Wanderer.

This was all very new to her.

“uh, it'.. “ she was cut off when the Commander began to speak.

Zeph could feel everyone, she had always been able to, feeling the room only made it a little harder for her to concentrate because she could feel all their fear, anxiety, and some of them.. their anger at the Savi.  Their desire to be free.  She wanted to be free as well and with this many Starfleet in one place it was actually possible.  They needed to find a way to get off this boat, there had to be a way.  There was a way.  Probably.  The woman asked if those that were telepathic could step forward. 

Purpose, that was all she needed.  Something to drive her forward, something to cling on to, she was rogue.  A woman without a crew.  She had left the Azurite Station.  She didn't have anywhere to call home and had no friends among these people.  Most of them seemed to know each other.  Or groups did.  She could tell that there were two full groups here.  One from two different ships.  At least, that was what it felt like. 

People were throwing around ideas, she could hear them, in her mind.  She could hear the different voices and accents and plans.  To create a riot, to make it out of here, then someone mentioned that the Savi had some sort of email that could possibly be used against them.  Zeph was not talented at computers what so ever but at the very least she was good at helping out.  She was a doctor.  Helping people... that's what makes me happy.  Helping people.  Science, Medical, just talking. That's me.  That's what I do.  That's my passion.  Zeph –One Seven felt her shoulders straighten and pull back so that she could participate.

Gotta move on Zeph.  You may not have a ship, but you have a purpose here.  You can help.  You can use your abilities for good.  You can help get out of this place.  Even if you don't survive, they might, and that's all that is needed.

Zeph slowly made her way past Alistair and through the crowd, ducking around various people until she was able to get over closer to where the woman stood by the bar.  Zeph's dark eyes looked up at the woman, and she slowly rose her hand halfway.  “I'm.. telepathic.” she stated.  It was odd to say, she had always been empathic, always and enjoyed it.  The limited telepathy that she had been given because of her run in with the Wanderer was nothing compared to the full blown telepathy but it was something she would get used to.

This wasn't going to bring her down.

She was Lieutenant Zephyr Praise.  She was not about to let this, of all things, get her down.  No, she still had to get word to the Federation about the issues and the Azurite Station.  She needed to talk to someone what had happened there, and how very un-Starfleet it is. 

“I'll help in any way that I can.” she stated as she opened herself up to the minds of those around her.  Feeling the buzz of their minds brushing over her mind and allowing anyone that wanted to, to use her as a vessel for speech.

[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sarresh_Morali) | Observation Pen/USS Enterprise NCC 1701-E - Stellar Cartography | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Masorin 
[Show/Hide]
"Killed an elephant with a kite and a key...?" Morali looked over at Hi'Jak, baffled. "Humans are entirely too weird. Its a miracle they ever made it out of their own solar system," he groused. Then he remembered, darkly, that he himself was now human. He raised one pink hand away from the controls and glared at it, offended by the skin he now lived in. He turned his hand over slowly, noting the lack of information flying across his field of vision, disoriented by the loss. Ash'reem eyes were different from human eyes on so many levels that he couldn't begin to explain, but so too were natural eyes, from the implants he'd worn since his...Resurrection.

He was pulled out of his won dark thoughts by the one armed, one eyed prisoner next to him. Blinking a few times, Sarresh turned and leaned in, letting his eyes flicker over what Jack had pulled up. Sure enough, it was an internal letter system. His eyebrows shot up. "Thats way too easy," he murmured, but wasn't about to say no. With a few commands one of the 'ships' on his visual display of the nebula circled back and exploded into a mirrored version of Jacks screen, but larger, floating in the midst of the cosmos.

"I miss you, Dotnihl." he heard Jack whisper, and yet again, Sarresh's attention was drawn away. HE'd just launched a new set of spiders (visualized as a fighter wing, swooping down on a ship floating roughly 23 degrees galactic north of the 'Versant' representation) to help gain access to a translation matrix. But that sat ignored - as too did the explanation of the more binary nature of the Savi's language, as Sarresh tried to make heads and tails out of the non sequitur he'd heard.

"What is a Dotnihl?" His response utterly useless to the task at hand, but he'd become hung up on the question. He could understand prefectly what Jack was getting at, and agreed, in regards to the Savi being rather dead inside. But no, he was latching on to the off hand utterance. Perhaps it was a sign of the anxiety and trauma already inflicted upon the time traveler, that he couldn't focus on the task at hand.

[ Khorin, Son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Khorin_Douglas) & Lt. Cross | Ten Forward | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ] Joint post with @Fife
[Show/Hide]Att. @steelphoenix  @SummerDawn  @Auctor Lucan  @patches  @YasyraTrill  @Brutus @Absinthe @Blue Zephyr  @Anyone else in the lounge

Cross ground his teeth in frustration and anger as he stared at the Klingon's face and tried to reach out and touch the Klingon's mind with his own. After a full two minutes, he dropped his hands.

"I have no <fucking> idea how to do this!" Cross growled, pacing back and forth in agitation.

"It doesn't make sense anymore, this is already as useless as you are" Khorin barked as he grabbed Cross' arm and pulled the Vulcan to stand in front of him once more. "You dishonour yourself and me with you, Pahtak!"

Cross took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself before trying again. It failed to calm him, instead seeming to stoke the fires of his anger, but he decided to continue anyway. As Cross reached out and grasped the Klingon's head between his hands once more, he imagined wrenching it to the side, savouring the imagined sickening crunch of the Klingon's neck snapping.

He smiled darkly as he imagined how satisfying it would be.

"Now you smile? Concentrate, Vulcan!" Khorin growled, "Prove you aren't just a cowering targ with ugly pointed ears!"

"I can't concentrate with you braying like a <fucking> mule!" Cross snarled at the larger man, directing all his anger into his grip on the ridged head he currently held. "If you'd shut up for even a second, I might be able to..." Everything around him seemed to lurch...

---

...and then he found himself standing alone with the Klingon, no longer holding Khorin's head. Instead they stood 5 feet apart, facing each other.

As Cross looked around, he found that they were no longer in Ten Forward, or even on the Enterprise.

The greenish sunbeam entered through tall and spiked windows, revealing a twilight landscape, with the flickering lights of the First City shining in the background. The room seemed old, with thick walls and long used but resistant furniture, although scarce. A couple of beds, too small for an adult size (Considerably diminutive considering the current size of Khorin), a table too high for a child, with a three chairs underneath, a carpet made with the skin of some animal completely moth-eaten, weapons hanging from the walls.... And, totally incongruous in the midst of this austere vision, a stuffed Toby the targ.

"Just remember, we're in your mind. I have no control over this place. I'm amazed I was even able to do it." Cross told the Klingon, "You need to make sure you don't think about anything that you don't want me to see..."

"Just get us out of here" Interrupted the Klingon, his gaze fixed on the tall door that faced the windows. He knew where and, above all, WHEN they where. "Get us out of here NOW!" he roared. But it was too late, when the last echoes of his voice went out, the door opened, revealing a toddler with dark, long hair. The boy ran into the room, leaving the door ajar, uncontrollably sobbing. His little face was swollen due to the weeping and a thin thread of blood fell down the side of his forehead, drawing strange shapes between his almost imperceptible ridges. The child crossed the room staggering on his short legs, to sit on the skin in the middle of the room to take the stuffed animal, hugging him disconsolately. The adult Khorin glared furiously at Cross just as the scene faded ...

---

...A new image came into being around them, this time one that Cross recognized. A clean, sterile looking room with trays of medical instruments and various electronic tools and equipment scattered throughout the area. The room was dimly lit, but Cross knew it as once.

The recognition caused Cross' chest to tighten as he stared silently at the door, knowing what was to come.

The door at the far end of the room rolled open, and two Cardassians entered, dragging with them a small boy with pointed ears and the ridged nose typical of a bajoran. A third Cardassian stalked into the room behind them, carrying a large rodent by it's scruff.

Cross felt like he was going to vomit.

Khorin looked around, unnable to recognize that room "Wha...? I don't remember this, what have you..."

But Cross didn't hear the Klingon, his attention being entirely focused on the child, who was sobbing as the Cardassian scientist dangled the rodent above him.

"You keep this filthy creature as a pet?" The Scientist laughed, shaking the rodent and causing it to squeal in fear. The child tried to reach out for the scared creature, but one of the other Cardassians landed a solid kick in the child's ribs, sending him sprawling to the floor, gasping for air. The lead scientist spoke again as the child struggled up to a kneeling position. "I will not have a disgusting creature like this in my lab!" The Cardassian exclaimed, shaking it harder." The child tried to rise again, and received a kick to the face for his troubles, sending blood spurting from his damaged nose.

Cross ground his teeth as he watched, bile welling up in his throat.

The Cardassian raised the rodent above his head. Looking first at it, then the child. "It's bad enough to have one filthy creature to deal with, I don't needed another." The scientist brought the creature down with force, bashing it's head against the table with a sickening thwack. The child howled and lunged at the Cardassian, swinging his arms in a desperate bid to inflict revenge upon the grey-skinned scientist.

Cross felt the bile rising, and swallowed hard to keep it down, his eyes fixed on the child as the Cardassians kicked him in the head again. The three grey-skinned scientists laughed as the leader tossed the dead creature down in front of the child, smiling a cruel smile. "And now, you're going to eat your little friend, cross-breed." The laughter of the Cardassian's grew lauder, and they landed several more kicks before the leader grew impatient. "Eat it!"

The adult Cross turned away as the child reached forward, sobbing. Cross took a step and the room faded...

---

...It was a cool morning in San Francisco, the fog crawled from the bay to the residential neighborhood, giving the dull houses a dreamlike aspect, as if  they were going to blur away at any moment. A teenage Khorin, with a soft shade of peach fuzz  over his lip, frowned his thick eyebrows, looking through the kitchen window, arms folded across his brawny chest. The adult Khorin glared at Cross from the window and raised a fist like a club, to Cross's throat, which was leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen. "Do not even think about continuing to entangle my mind, vulcan, get us out of here before..." the phrase was interrupted by a high-pitched voice. Cross turned his focus from Khorin's looming fist to the scene unfolding before them.

"I wont go! I'm a warrior of the Mo'Kai House! I don't have to put up with the nonsense of some pujwI'! " He yelled stubbornly as soon as a human female with brown hair and slender constitution entered the room. There was a familiar resemblance between their faces, even though the teenage Khorin was already taller and heavier than the woman. "Pup, really, it's too early for this discussion again," the woman yawned, not impressed at all by the young man's bravado.

Without paying too much attention to her son, she crossed the kitchen going through the adult Khorin on the way to pour herself a coffee, her eyes still half closed. Heather Douglas sipped her mug, looking at her unmanageable son, who was frowning at the kitchen table. The woman formed a crooked grin, very similar to those usual in the klingon face.

Suddenly, without warning, he got up throwing the table to the side, which crashed into a countertop, irremediably broken. "I HATE you! If Father didn't get mad for it, I would kill you right now!" Shouted the teenage Khorin, while the adult hid his embarrassed face behind his hands, looking at the ceiling. "Yes, I WAS an idiot, can we save myself from more of this?" Grumbled.

The human shook her head and sighed, trying to keep her composure. Then she went through the kitchen, rolling up her sleeves and, without giving any external reaction, she grabbed the teenage Khorin by the ear with one of her tiny hands and forced him to lean to her height. "Like it or not, Khorin, your father died in Mempa, so you can get used to life on Earth, 'cause going back to Qo'noS is no longer an option," the woman said in a soft, almost tender tone. "And as for killing me, if you didn't do it when you were born and I was more vulnerable, you're not going to do it now, young man. Pick up this mess, you're going to the high school,  whether you want it or not. " The teenager pursed his lips, but he hunched his shoulders, defeated...

Cross looked at Khorin, having trouble imagining the full Klingon standing before him as the young, angsty half-Klingon whose tantrum he had just witnessed. He tried to push the memory away.

"Try to think of a happier memory." Cross told the Klingon. "Just be careful about...

---

...They suddenly found themselves standing in a patient's room in Sickbay, though not the Sickbay of the Enterprise, which they had visited earlier. Cross clenched his teeth, trying to focus on keeping them in one place, in one memory.

"Where is this?" Cross asked, "Is this the Theurgy?"

"Get out of my head, pujwI'!"

"You're the reason we're here in the first place, asshole!"

Cross saw two people in the room with them, though Cross and Khorin seemed not to be visible to the pair, who were shadows of Khorin's memory. One of the people was Khorin, though looking much less Klingon, and the other was a teal-uniformed female who looked like she could be human, and Cross guessed she was a nurse.

Cross also saw that the nurse was now straddling Khorin, who seemed to be a patient, though this is was like no patient/nurse interaction that Cross had ever seen.

I can think of one Doctor I would have liked this sort of treatment from... Cross thought with a somewhat sly grin, thinking back to his time on the Harbinger.

"Take us away from here, Vulcan!" Roared Khorin, surging towards Cross with arms outreached, his hands seeking Cross' throat. As the Klingon's strong hands closed around Cross' neck, he could hear the shadow nurse speaking, the shadow Khorin's lustful groaning before replying to the female's statement.

As the Klingon's hands constricted around his throat, he could hear the blood pounding in his ears, almost drowning out shadow Khorin's reply. "Be careful, Nurse Jenkins. You should know better than anyone that once you initiate intamacy with a Klingon, it cannot stop until he is sated."

"You need to think about something else!" Cross choked out the words, his ability to speak and breath being restricted by the full-blooded Klingon's grip.

The Khorin who currently had his hands around Cross' throat heaved him sideways, sending him staggering across the room, landing against the table. He had thrown back his arms to steady himself, and his arm right arm seemed to disappear into the bodies of the shadows of Khorin and Nurse Jenkins. The shadows had no knowledge of his presence, and continued to play out the memory, biting and growling at each other. The nurse punched shadow Khorin in the ribs, and Khorin now threw off the sheet that had covered the lower half of his body, revealing more skin than Cross had wanted to see, as well as...

Cross reeled away from the table, wanting to put distance between himself and the highly aroused shadow Khorin. Then the real Khorin was on his again, grasping his shirt with one hand and bringing his other hand crashing into the side of Cross' head in a truck-like haymaker...

---

Cross jolted back to reality, the shock of the imaginary blow causing him to mentally recoil, severing the telepathic link between himself and the enraged Klingon.

Staggering away from Khorin, who was still seated at the bar in Ten Forward, Cross' mind was assailed by anger like never before. Somewhere in the back of Cross' mind, he realized that he had been foolish to allow his mind to come into contact with the Klingon's, especially with his self control balancing on a knife's edge. The voice that screamed the realization from the back of his mind was silenced however, drowned out by the roaring torrent of anger and aggression that coursed through him like fire in his veins, threatening to tear him apart from the inside.

Khorin had had more than enough of all  that mess. His attempt to impress the crowd not only had not gone as he wished, but had brought to the surface memories he didn't want to remember. And others that he simply wanted to keep for himself. With his hands cramped in two tight fists, the veins of his arms and neck prominently beating at the same tempo of his rage and his jaw clenched, the Klingon stood up, moving so slowly. For a moment he stayed where he was, standing, staring at Cross and shaking with barely contained fury. "I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" he howled, throwing himself forward against the Vulcan like a wrecking ball, and crashing with him with his hands in front of him. He grabbed Cross from the collar of his uniform, lifted him off the floor and headbutted him in the most Klingon style.

Cross' nose seemed to burst as the Klingon's ridged forehead slammed into it, sending a spray of blood fountaining forth. With a feral sounding snarl Cross lashed out, his left hand grasping the Klingon's head, fingers gripping the ear and thumb squirming, seeking the eye socket. At the same time Cross' right hand balled into a fist and landed a blow on the Klingon's left temple before rearing back to launch another blow. The Vulcan was only vaguely aware of the situation, his opponent, or indeed anyone else in the room. The blinding rage had taken hold of him, and he lashed out with little regard for protecting himself, intent only on killing the focus of his anger.

[ Captain Ives | Scion Nest | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Joint-Post by Triage & Auctor Lucan
[Show/Hide]Shivering in pain, her taut nerves denied the transition of shifting, Jien Ives raised her eyes when the Scion returned to its nest.

Between the sessions of abuse upon her Chosen Form, ranging from calibrated distortion of her morphogenic matrix to being ravaged by the Savi leader, Jien had lost track of time. Not fully, knowing it had to be more than a day since the abduction, but hours? Minutes? After she'd collapsed into unconsciousness so many times, there was no way to tell for certain. She hated the fear she felt when she laid eyes on the gleaming chitin, clicking and shifting upon the monstrous figure as it moved on three legs through the large nest. She hated herself for wishing to draw back, and put distance between herself and the creature. She wanted to remain stoic, and not cover from the promise of more abuse, but after what she had endured... it became increasingly difficult to keep her wits about herself.

It is time. On your feet, she told herself, but she couldn't make herself move, shivering still. Come on. Courage is fear... Biting her teeth together, she struggled, getting back on her feet, sticky with her own blood. She'd bleed from wounds she could not close, but still... she'd stand to face her captor, and she would speak.

"You have mentioned..." she said, barely keeping her balance as she straightened - fists clenched at her sides. "...the Scion Directive of yours, and how the Savi seek to evolve beyond your inferior traits. How you artificially made the caste you belong to... It begs the question... Should you not also seek survival?"

The Scion clicked in the dim light beyond the glow of her quantum stasis field. A sound of derision. Then it spoke, it's voice piercing the darkness. "Just as you have mentioned these parasites, Aspect Maker," it said, approaching, making Jien want to flinch, to look away, but she swallowed, and clenched her fists harder where she stood in a puddle of mimicked blood. The Scion spoke anew. "How there is an immense, unseen threat undermining all that intelligent life seek to build. Threatening to raise the construct of all societies at the foundation. Several times, you have besought me to answer, begged me to recognise your claims, to believe your word. You think you can sway me with the truth you hold dear. It is all you have to offer me, and in silence, I have already refuted you."

Jien refused to surrender. There had to be some way. "You survey all species, and yet you don't see it?"

"We survey, not all of us know. Some of us, however, know more," said the creature that stalked the outer glow of the sphere, the light licking the slick hardness of the abomination's towering body. Frowning, shivering still, Jien craned her neck to meet those four black eyes, not understanding what it meant. Semathal wasn't finished. "A few of us... we know it all. We are more, having transcended the Scion Directive. We have watched you, through the eyes of our kinsmen, for those eyes were also these... staring upon you now... watching the realisation dawn in your mind."

Eyes widening, Jien knew why the creature had refuted her claims. Fukanou desu...

"Yes... It was the next step in our evolution, and we took it. There is nothing beyond the darkness which we do not touch, and there is naught in our way. Even the Alata... They are now at our mercy."

The name was lost on Jien and Semathal saw it, cruel amusement seeping into its alien voice.

"You do not know? You even had one upon your own ship, and you didn't realise it?" It sounded like it had just gleaned what it wanted to know; ascertained the degree of non-preparation the Theurgy held in regard to the nameless darkness and the infested. The lingering silence told Jien she had erred, and she had no answer. It retreated from the stasis sphere, but Jien somehow knew that it wasn't finished. "If you have not weaponized the light already... then we have no use of studying their kind."

There were noises in the dark, and then, aquamarine light illuminated all surfaces. A transport made before the stasis field, a couple of yards away, and when the light abated, the naked form of a woman lay on the dark deck. She appeared human, and Jien stumbled closer, tilting her head, voice stilled by fear for what was happening. The Radiant... McMillan. Heather McMillan.

"She revealed that the last of her kind were upon Earth," said the creature in the darkness, "which escalates our plans for the Sol System. If the last bloodline of the Gîl Naur hide at the heart of the Federation... we will carve out that heart and devour it. This specimen here... she will be but the appetiser."

Heart racing, Jien went for the officer on the deck, but the edge of the sphere held her back, inflicting debilitating pain unto her Chosen Form. She screamed, straining against the outer edge, making her arms loose coalescence. Through her teeth she tried to cry out to the prone crewmember before her. "McMillan! Wake up! Listen to me!"

"She is sedated beyond what her frail body can handle. She blinded Savi in defiance, beyond what was expected by one of her kind, pacifists as they are. Yet now, her light will shine no more."

"Heather! Wake up!" Jien refused to accept what was to happen, pushing against the wall of the sphere anew, her flesh rippling and tearing. Tears of pain welled in her eyes, her voice cracking. "Wake up!"

"Initiate purification field. Nonary setting."

Despite it all, whatever drugs were in her, it looked like Heather stirred... opening her eyes. "Cap-Captain?"

Then, a yellow energy field bathed the Radiant's form. It lasted but for a moment, which seemed to stretch on for eternity - their eyes locked through the separate containment spheres. Jien's struggles ceased in that moment. "No..."

There was a concussion in the air, and Heather McMillan disintegrated.

Not even dust remained in the dim light of the Scion Nest, the energy wave leaving naught behind.

"She was right under your nose," said the clicking voice in the darkness, "yet now, there is no hope for this Cycle."

Jien sunk to her knees, not even seeing how the Scion moved closer, about to enter the field. It's shadow fell over her, about to ravage her ruined body once more.

"We will consume you all."

[ Lt. R’Rori | Ten Forward | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ] @steelphoenix @SummerDawn @Fife @Numen @Auctor Lucan

R’Rori listened carefully to Deacon as he talked of their captor’s apparent mission. It unsettled hir now that he had pointed it out and s/he felt forced to agree with his last statement. “There is definitely more to this than we’ve seen. You’re right, but then again, they’ve barely treated us as sentient so far. This … Code of theirs seems to bind their behavior, but not so much their views of us. They speak of it quite frequently when they deign to speak to us.”

S/he sighed, setting both hands against the bar as s/he leaned into it and closed both eyes, both in thought and to avoid a reminder of what the former hybrid lost. “There’s little to be gleaned from dwelling on their true intentions, however, so I’ll take them at their word.”

After another moment, R’Rori’s ears flicked towards the source of a new commotion and s/he turned around to see for hirself what the hell was going on. Another sigh, longer and deeper, escaped hir as s/he saw two people wrestling with each other. S/he groaned and facepalmed when s/he realized who it was.

“Can you two follow me?” S/he asked Deacon and K’Ren, gesturing to the pair on the ground. “It’s not time for making trouble yet, I think, and we need their help later.”

Before they had a chance to respond, R’Rori bolted off through the crowd to the circle forming around Cross and Khorin, weaving around the people with the experience and skill of a person used to navigating them in crowded trauma wards to help calm out of control patients. Hir entire professional life had been in service to help others combat their inner demons, gathering arcane knowledge that s/he then used to arm hir clients with the tools to quell the impulses, the memories, and the loneliness of lives spent in space and war. Barroom brawls weren’t hir area of expertise, though, as s/he both abstained from alcohol and from fighting.

This whole stay on this ship was proving to be quite the learning experience for the counselor.

“Lieutenant Cross! Khorin! What the hell are you two doing?”

S/he called out as soon as s/he was close by and could see them. Hir voice unconsciously took on the characteristics of hir mother when they misbehaved as children. S/he moved in closer, noting the looks of pure rage on their faces. Whatever happened, the two were lost in their emotional states.

Like me when I first woke.

“K’Ren, Deacon.” R’Rori barely glanced to make sure they followed. “We need to pull these two apart. Each of you take one. Don’t get in between. You’ll just make yourself a target.”

S/he turned hir attention back to the pair fighting, grabbing one of Cross’s arms to try to keep him from swinging again at Khorin with it. “Hey! Are you two Starfleet or not? Focus on the mission. This is not the time.”

Hir last comment was said more softly, hir voice betraying some of the pain s/he was currently keeping a lid on. “Don’t let them more of who you are. Who we are.”

[ Commander Nerina (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Nerina) | Observation Pen ~ Ten Forward | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ]
[Show/Hide]When she had decided to take charge and try to lead the present Starfleet officers trapped on this enemy ship, Nerina had first through her affiliation with the Theurgy might have served for a lot more contention. After all, it had been obvious quite early on that there wasn't just Theurgy officers aboard the holographic Enterprise. Instead, she had people coming up to her, prepared to take orders. People she'd never met before, or at least she thought she hadn't, but after what had been done to them all, there were no certainties in that regard.

"Thank you," she said to both the Caitian and the Betazoid women that approached her, all the while as the telepaths present were spreading her suggestions through the crowd. She was just about to turn to the Betazoid and ask her to relay her previous suggestions to the Caitian and the... strange human man and woman in her company, both having a tail, and one of them even having Caitian ears. It seeemed like they were not fully Corrected yet, like she was. Her words had nearly left her mouth when there was a commotion in the lounge, and she trailed off. She slowly walked there to see what was happening, and the woman with the ears and tail wished to break up the fight with the help from the other two she had arrived with.

Yet as she watched the development, she realised that this was, perhaps, exactly what they needed.

"No, let them continue," she called out, intervening before the Vulcan and the Klingon ceas-

"What is the meaning of this?" came the succinct, rumbling query from the entrance, cutting through the noise of the lounge. Nerina's eyes drifted there, and saw the expected. The speaker was the Enterprise's Chief Security Officer. Worf was accompanied by two security officers, which seemed like a very swift response to the altercation. Looking at a Klingon after her Correction was odd for Nerina, but besides the loss and ire, the prevalent notion was how the Savi holo-program had been almost too quick in response to the development. Had it been primed to handle disruptions just to let the Savi do something else than monitor the development?

"You!" rumbled Worf as he saw Khorin Douglas, now more Klingon than Nerina remembered him from the Theurgy. "I knew you were up to something. Seize them, and take them to the Brig. I will question them myself."

The two security guards went to grab the Vulcan and Khorin Douglas, while Worf turned to the gathering. "Don't you have duties to attend to?"

"Yes, we were, before the disruption," lied Nerina to the Klingon, fighting the urge to touch her own forehead again when face to face with those impressive ridges. "We were holding a briefing here, using the locale because of its space."

Worf looked suspicious, working his jaw, but it seemed like he wouldn't break up the gathering. "Very well. Carry on."

When the security detail were leaving, Nerina didn't check on how compliant the Vulcan and Khorin were. Instead, she turned to the Betazoid. She whispered to her, but the cat-like officers were likely able to hear her too, standing right there. "It seems like that wasn't enough to grab the attention of our captors. We'll have to escalate the disruptions if we are to get transported out of this holodeck and try to work on a solution from the outside - even if we are risking our lives in the process. Spread the word to all present. We need something else. Like, causing a warp core failure. We need to make a hostile takeover of the bridge. Plant bombs. Anything bad enough that the program's own security officers can't handle."

She thought a moment. "Whatever we do on the inside... It might no be enough. We might have to risk Recycling in order to get a chance at escape. Once out, we can save those in her, but not before."

Guinan returned, she gave them an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I will have to have the lounge back now."

Had she been heard? Regardless, time was up. She looked at the Betazoid again. "Tell them all to be creative, daring. Ask them if they rather want to loose their memories without a fight, or if they are willing to risk their lives in order to remain who they are. I can't coordinate them all, so they have to take their fates into their own hands, and show the Savi that we are will not go quietly into oblivion."

"So, so, shoo, shoo," said Guinan, still smiling, and ushering for the small crowd of people to leave.

"Despite what they have done to you all," said Nerina, eyes still locked with the Betazoid, "you are still Starfleet."

"There there, off you go," said Guinan, and gradually, the crowd left.

---

OOC: There! Seven days response time begins today, where you have your characters get as naughty as you feel befitting for them, unless they prefer to work on the problem of getting out in a less offensive way, unwilling to dare Recycling.

[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Khorin_Douglas)| Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Ten Forward ]
[Show/Hide]Att.: @steelphoenix @SummerDawn @Auctor Lucan @patches @YasyraTrill @Absinthe @Blue Zephyr @Fife @Anyone else in the lounge


Khorin struggled to push aside the hand that was determined to tear out his eye. But as much as it hurted his pride and no matter how hard he fought, the Vulcan was stronger than him. Being plently aware of it didn't help to calm his anger, it only intensified it. "A true warrior knows when to join a battle and when to flee from one" his father had told him, long years ago. But Khorin had never fully learned that lesson. It was against his temper. He grabbed with one hand that iron claw that was trying to make him one-eyed, trying to prevent it to go deeper into his eye socket, and concentrated his will on punch with his other fist Cross's cheekbone and his side over and over and over. He tried to hit anywhere that was within his reach, ready to repeat it as many times as it was necessary until the pointy-eared man released his grip. Or until he would lose the eye. Whatever would happened first. He punched with his full strength again and again, again and again until …


"Lieutenant Cross! Khorin! What the hell are you doing?" "Hey! Are you two Starfleet or not? Focus on the mission. This is not the time. "


The motherly scold penetrated into his brain like a blaster shot and momentarily calmed Khorin fury, fresh as it were in his memory the reprimands of Heather Douglas. Such was the shock of hearing that tone out loud again that he gathered enough strength to push his attacker's face away long enough to cast a puzzled look at the cat-eared woman. The one next to Neko. What was her name? R'Rory? He opened his mouth to reply something, but suddlenly he swallowed his own words with a good puff of blood when a fist impacted in his jaw and threw him several meters back, knocking down tables and stools in his path. He struggled to stand and put his jaw back in place with a awful creak. Immediately, the pilot spat a bloody phlegm before roaring "Dare to repeat it, you kind of hairless tribble!" He prepared himself to return to the brawl when a pair of strong hands emerged from nowhere, grabbing him. Douglas struggled against them, trying to break the grip, but unable to free himself.


"You!" rumbled Worf interposing between the other klingon and his opponent, "I knew you were up to something, Seize them, and take them to the Brig. I will question them myself." Khorin battled again, but the holo-officer held him firmly. After contest for a few seconds with the clamp that held him back, he turned to Worf and addressed him with bloody saw-like grin, full of contempt. "What's wrong with you, don't you dare to face a real warrior?!" he boasted, seeing that his attempts to break free were useless. "So THIS is why House of Mogh disappeared, its blood watered between cowards and dogs!" He barked, laughing like a maniac, while his captor dragged him out of the Ten-Forward. Worf's hologram didn't seem too impressed by his words, and he positioned himself at the back of the retinue, monitoring both the officers and the captives.


Khorin struggled with all his strength toward the grip that holds him, but he couldn't get rid of it and in a last act of defiance before being forced out of the room, he kicked and nudged at everything that was at his reach. He tried to made the biggest mess possible, with the worst of intentions, including a particularly malicious kick that ended up on Cross's shin. The human officer who held him pushed him forward with more force than necessary as a reprimand for this reprehensible attitude, which caused that the klingon roared furiously, making the nearby bulkheads rattle. But it was a useless gesture because, without further ado, they crossed the threshold and the door closed behind the back of the Enterprise's Chief Security Officer.

---

Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Moments later| Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Corridors ]
Att.: @Fife



Khorin fighted to release himself all the way through the corridors. He had tried everything that had occurred to him, no matter how mean it were. He had left his body felt like a dead weight for several minutes, so the security officer had to drag his muscular frame various meters, to suddenly find that the pilot was stirring like a wild horse, trying to break free. He nudged, kicked, tried to hit the human who held him in every way possible, he shouted, roared and spat but, even though the hologram wobbled and shook with the Klingon's escape attempts, he didn't seem to loosen his grip at any time. Finally after all his unsuccessful struggles, he had nothing left but yield to the evidence. The Savi knew what they were doing and had programmed that kind of simulation firewall just strong enough to hold them without hurting them. Just enough to made him participate in that charade without being able to present real opposition. A low growl emerged from Khorin's broad chest, denoting his exasperation.


"bIjatlh 'e' yImev!" Worf barked at his back. "Shut up my ass!" Thundered Khorin as answer, returning to his attempts to break free from the stocks that held him. Again, it was useless. This only enraged him again, although this time not with the blind fury that had gripped him in the lounge, but with the outrage that impotence had always caused him, being under someone else's control when he wasn't agreement. Khorin had spent his whole life trying to be a Klingon, more Klingon even than the full Klingons themselves, honoring their tradition of winning honor by victory, whether it was in a bar fight or in his fighter cockpit. And he had mastered it. He was good at it, he was damn good, he was a shoo-in. Because of this, he had forgotten to a certain extent what it meant to lose, but since his abduction, his captors had insisted on reminding him that he couldn't always win. And they were demonically given to show him how helpless he was in their hands too. Being at the mercy of others bothered him as much as a kick in the testes. Or rather in the ego, what was practically the same.


He couldn't surrender. Comply like a sheep heading to the butcher? Never! He pulled his arms again, let himself fall toward the center of the corridor, hitting Cross's shoulder in his path, who responded to the hostile gesture with a furious gaze. He kicked his captor and when he pulled away to avoid it, he pulled forward. For a moment he managed to release one of his hands, which made him grin and prepared to make the hologram paid for his care when ... when holo-Worf grabbed his arm and twisted it to his back and, without even giving him a second glance, he returned to deliver him to the security officer who had been escorting him.


"bIHnuch take hostages. Klingons do not! "Khorin roared, unable to do much more than verbally attack the other klingon. Chief Officer turned a moment to give him a weary look. "If I were only a Klingon I would have killed you long ago, rookie. But I am a Starfleet officer. Are you one? "He chastised with deep voice.


The words echoed in Khorin's brain with the voice of Officer R'Rory. He was certainly a Starfleet officer. He hadn't forgotten it. And as such, his first goal was to escape from that shit-hole. And try to rescue all the others he could. That a parody of one of his childhood heroes reminded him that fact didn't help to calm his mood. The pilot struggled again for a moment, only to show that he was not willing to make things easy for anyone, no matter how much they were right about the situation. Then he just kept going, and tried to get his anger-clouded brain to think.


Starting a brawl hadn't been enough to be beamed out to recycling, so they should take more extreme measures. A real riot, threatening to burst that mockery of the Enterprise, or something worst, whatever it takes. The Klingon frowned sullenly, between determination and stubbornness. He would do whatever it took. Although for this, he had to liberate himself first. And if possible before reaching the brig, or any attempt to get out of there before they erased their memory would be totally useless. He tried to look for the eyes of the vulcan, they needed ideas and needed them now. However, Cross seemed to face the front stubbornly, not deigning to look at him. As if he were the one who had real reasons to be angry. Khorin seethed and turned his gaze to the corridor, growling lowly, only to see how a young redshirt watched the retinue, hesitant and meekly. They couldn't wait for help from her, he would have to think another thing …

---

bIHnuch - coward
bIjatlh 'e' yImev! - Shut up!

[Lt. Zephyr Praise | Ten Foward | USS Enterprise | Distractions Necessary]
@Auctor Lucan @patches @Numen @YasyraTrill @Absinthe

She gave a nod to the woman, for the thanks.  Zeph was not sure what she could do here but she was willing to put her mind to work.  She had never been one to shy from doing what was needed or being busy.  She preferred busy to sitting around with nothing to do.  If she had been forced to 'correct' herself to a full Betazoid she might as well use the newfound abilities and try to suss out how they worked.  They likely weren't all that different from using her Empathy, though that was just background noise, it wasn't something she tapped into all the time unless it was necessary.  Right now, she could feel the anger, the sadness, the shock, and the fear emanating like waves off of the people in the Holodeck.  She felt the fight before it even started.

Zeph was not going to let anyone get hurt.  Not only as a Medical Doctor but also as someone that was empathic.  She didn't need the pain on her brain right now.  More than that, she didn't really want anyone to get hurt.  A Klingon could do a lot of damage and so could a Vulcan.  They were both strong, angry, and in their own ways; self righteous.

Another person came in, Zeph's eyes shifted, their dark orbs narrowing down on the sudden appearance of another Klingon, one she didn't know.  He was dressed in Security colors and apparently not a fan of the little scuffle that was going on to the side.  He reminds me of Kor.. she thought to herself as she watched the angry Klingon head over to the fighters.  Since this was all a Holodeck, even Zephyr realized how quickly everything was put to a stop.  A small fight, like that, held nothing that would actually stop the simulation.  Since this was likely just a holding pen for those that were destined to die or whatever.  That was, at least, what Zephyr was imagining though she didn't have any kind of idea if it was true.  She highly doubted their kind hosts were going to drop them on the Federation's door step with a note that said to feed, water, and take care of them. 

Zephyr could hear the voice of the woman in her ear, so she stood there and concentrated on it, which was remarkably hard with all the new abilities roaming around in her head.  All these neural pathways that she had to learn, to stretch, to grow, to control.  It wasn't easy.  She had only been slightly telepathic before, only to other telepathic species, and also, only with touch and close relationships.  She couldn't just talk to anyway, it had always only been her best friend.  But then, now, she had a whole different kind of telepathy.  It was open, raw, and harsh.  Luckily it would likely be able to be controlled by the same methods she used for her empathy if she could just have the time to concentrate and go through the exercises.  Right now, it was focus time, time for fixing her mental abilities would have to wait.

Nerina was right, though, they needed something far bigger than a small brawl to get the program to end and they could actually possibly get out.  The woman even mentioned that they might have to risk being recycled so that others could live.  Zeph was fine with that, she didn't have anyone to life for anyway.  Not that it made her life count less but there were others with families, children, wives, husbands, that would be looking for them.  Zeph had none of that, she hadn't had a relationship in years.  She had almost; once, a few months ago but then things happened and it had never culminated to anything.

Another woman came into the room and explained that she needed her lounge back.  Zeph looked over at her and then back at Nerina.  Zeph's dark eyes met the woman's and she gave a quick nod.  She didn't want her to think that she hadn't heard, she had.  She was on her side, and she would do her best to give Nerina's message to everyone that she could.  Hopefully, they could get a plan together.  Zephyr stepped back into the main area, and looked around at all the people.  It was a lot of minds to touch at once, but it would be easier.  If she only did one at a time it would be obvious that she was up to something.  So she moved back to the bar where her drink sat untouched and Alistair perked up at her sudden arrival back.

“You look better.” He said with a bright grin.

She gave a bit of a smirk back.  “Purpose does that.” she said as she sat back down and picked up drink.  Large scale, Zeph, this will probably hurt.

She didn't close her eyes, again, that would be too obvious and it wasn't like she hadn't ever used telepathy or wide spread empathy before.  She just hadn't used it to this extent.  Taking a deep breath she allowed her mind to reach out.  Expanding outward like slow ripples, small waves, letting it latch onto the minds of those around her.

~To all, a message from Nerina.  We need ideas, to create a distraction larger than a fight.  A bomb on the bridge, a warp core malfunction, something to stop the simulation to force the Savi to put us back where we actually are and allow for us to make a move.  All ideas are welcome.  We need to keep this quiet, I am the liaison.  Speak to me and I will speak to Nerina if possible.  We have to figure this out, to save our lives, and the lives of all of those around us.~

[ Lt. Cross | Corridors | USS Enterprise NNC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ] @Auctor Lucan @Numen

Hearing the exchange between the two Klingons brought Cross out of his silent fuming. He had been struggling to get his anger back in check, had almost succeeded, but the shouting between the two ridge-headed bastards caused it to surge forth anew. Cross cursed under his breath as the security officer holding his arms forced him forward along the corridor, his mind still somewhat clouded by the rage than had stemmed form his telepathic link with the Klingon, though not as much as it had been. He had been trying to kill Khorin, trying to gouge his eye out, but someone had grabbed him, spoken to him. They had spoken sternly at first, then more softly. He had not paid attention, had barely heard them over the pounding force of his anger, though the voice had seemed familiar. Someone he knew.

Something about Starfleet…

Cross finally turned his eyes to his right, where another security officer had Khorin’s arms wrenched behind his back, just as Cross’ were. They were in the same predicament, both being dragged off to the brig. Khorin had lashed out as they were being dragged out of Ten Forward be the security team, landing the blow on Cross’ shin, which still throbbed as he walked. Cross turned his gaze behind them, twisting awkwardly against the security officer’s grasp to face the other Klingon who brought up the rear.

The holograms… Cross was barely aware of his thought, the anger he felt at being restrained only fuelling the fire of his rage. Cross suddenly lashed out behind him, throwing his head backwards, and though it failed to cause his release, he was rewarded with the satisfying crunch of the Bolian security officer’s nose.

Fucking holograms! He thought. Smiling savagely, Cross threw his head back again, hoping to land another hit, but the security officer had adjusted his position, and avoided the strike.

”Are you two Starfleet or aren’t you? Focus on the mission.” The voice seemed to echo in his mind, louder now, more noticeable through the rage.

Who was it? The voice was familiar, though it didn’t sound quite as he remembered.

”Are you two Starfleet or aren’t you?” The voice echoed again, louder this time. The voice cut through the fog of anger that clouded his mind, not dispersing the rage that coursed through him, but focusing it.

Are we Starfleet or aren’t we? The thought repeated several times in Cross’ head, each time with a little more clarity. R’Rori? His mind finally made the connection. Anger still threatened to overtake him, but he had his senses back now. I owe the councillor a drink after this…

Cross looked to Khorin once more. ”I thought Klingons were supposed to have honour!” Cross snarled, ”But I see one behind us that acts like snivelling <fucking> coward!” Cross sneered the word, nodding in Worf’s direction.

”Be quiet!” Worf barked over his shoulder, annoyance clear in his tone. The Bolian security officer shoved Cross more roughly in an attempt to make him comply. Cross glared over his shoulder at Worf as they continued down the corridor. He saw movement ahead, someone in red walking in the corridor, heading towards them. The red uniform paused, seeming to hesitate at the sight of the security detail escorting an angry Klingon and a bloody Vulcan, then resumed walking towards them, making to pass by.

”He’s too <fucking> scared to get his hands dirty! He needs a Bolian and a Human to fight his battles for him!” Cross pressed on, goading the Chief of Security.

”Silence!” This time Worf strode forward and grabbed Cross be the shoulder, striking Cross with an open hand. Worf glowered at them a moment longer as he growled in frustration, his jaw clenched as he tried to reign in his temper. ”If you were not Starfleet officers I would kill you where you stand!” Growling again, he jerked his head to the side, indicating to the security team to resume walking. As he turned away from Cross to continue on, he collided with the spotted woman in the red uniform. ”Watch where you’re going!” Worf barked at the woman, causing her to flinch.

“Sorry, sir!” The woman squeaked in apology, turning away from him as if to scurry away meekly down the corridor.

Then she raised the phaser she had taken from Worf’s holster and fired, sending a beam streaking into the human security officer that was restraining Khorin. Cross smiled conspiratorially at PO Narelle as the security officer she had shot jerked backwards, losing his grasp on the Klingon prisoner. Cross twisted himself and threw all his weight to the side, throwing his startled captor off balance and causing himself and the security officer restraining him to crash into the bulkhead. He heard the Bolian grunt in surprise and pain, but the hold on his arms did not slacken. Worf had turned in confusion, looking back at the Trill Petty Officer who had downed one of his security team, foolishly turning his back on the now unrestrained Khorin in the chaos of the moment. Narelle had turned to aim the phaser at the Klingon security officer, but Worf had already lashed out before she could take aim, knocking the phaser aside and surging forward to restrain the Trill NCO.

[ Deacon | Ten Forward | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E Simulation | Precept-ship Versant (Observation Pen) ] @SummerDawn  @patches  @Auctor Lucan  @Absinthe @Fife  @Numen @Masorin

Deacon watched the unfolding brawl with some vague sense of detachment. Perhaps it was the medication that had muted his ability to sense the emotions of those around him, going so far as to numb those he might otherwise experience himself, or perhaps it was the realization that these two seemed lost in the very same chaos that had afflicted him earlier.  Either way, it was sobering, drawing a faint frown from his lips even as R'Rori rushed to intervene.  He'd taken a step to follow after her, convinced that such wanton disregard for the social norms of a Federation vessel, even simulated, would not go unpunished.  If he was, in fact, meant to be an employee of this establishment as the holographic doctor had implied, then perhaps his voice might carry some level of authority, even off duty as he was supposed to be.

Before he could intervene, however, the doors parted revealing a security team that quickly moved to intercept the two and drag them away.  Deacon's face screwed up slightly as he regarded the scene.  It seemed entirely too rapid a response for an actual vessel to deploy, which meant that any such interference as recommended by the one called Nerina would need to be swift and decisive beyond the ability of the simulation to compensate with the usual fair.  Whatever they did would need to be above and beyond.

It was fortune that R'Rori, herself, had avoided detention by the security forces.  Likely the program recognized her efforts to end the altercation and deemed her non-threatening.  And then the proprietor arrived -- a dark skinned humanoid female, the backbrim of a long hat cascading down over a series of dreadlocks.  She efficiently ushered those gathered from the venue, her tone giving a none-too-subtle hint that she was to be obeyed lest far worse fates than intervention by security forces befall those who might think to resist.  Even Deacon was evicted, the female adding that a Dr. Crusher had arranged for the rest of the day off for him to recover from whatever illness had befallen him and he wasn't to show up for work until he'd secured the doctor's clearance.

He supposed it was to be expected. 

Reunited with K'Ren and R'Rori outside, he addressed the pair, his voice soft, conspiratorial, "That was rapid, but it was also an obvious display of aggression.  Something the simulation seems designed to anticipate and stop.  So, if we're going forward with this, we need to keep things quiet until we are ready and then escalate events beyond the ability of the holographic systems to compensate."  Lifting his head, he looked down the hall in the direction that the security guards gone, the rowdy klingon and vulcan in tow.  "I recommend we follow them.  I might be able to convince security that no harm was done and that they've... learned their lesson."

[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Khorin_Douglas)| Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Corridors ]
[Show/Hide]Att.: @Auctor Lucan @Fife 



When he felt that his captor loosen his grip, Khorin didn't think twice. He threw a headbutt back with all the momentum he could muster, finally releasing himself. A ferocious smile split his face in two as he turned to face the human. He threw himself against him like a gale, incrusting his elbow against the human's diaphragm, the security officer doubled, without air, only to receive a forceful knee in the face that threw his head back, until hitting the bulkheads. The wet sound it produced announced that, no matter how holographic they were, their enemies also bled. The Klingon didn't waste an instant and didn't allow the human to catch his breath, charging with his shoulder in front of him to finally knock him down. With his knees on the human chest, Khorin frantically beat the officer, until an agonized gurgle claimed that his rival was, at the very least, unconscious.


Without rest, he searched the immobile body of his adversary trying to found the mandatory phaser, but he couldn't find it anywhere. The Wolf grunted his frustration and sat up staggering, searching for the weapon. It should have been blazed past during the initial clash. He leaned on the side of the aisle and his hand left a red blotch on the wall.


Around him, the evasion had escalated quickly, Cross struggled against the bolian, using all his arsenal to get rid of his captor. Stains of blue and green blood smeared the area where they fought. They looked like two rabid Targs fighting for a territory. A little farther, the trill that had fired at the human, backed slowly. Despite her determined gaze, she was being cornered by Worf. The petty officer repeatedly fired her phaser, lighting the corridor with sudden flashes of light, but the Chief Security Officer managed to dodge them again and again, moving with unnatural agility.


Khorin forgot the phaser, Cross and the human who lay sprawled on the ground and threw himself against the other klingon. A primitive warcry resonated in his broad chest, which warned Worf of his charge. He turned just in time to see how a ridged forehead struck against his skull. Unable to stop the inertia of the movement, they stumbled on a skein of limbs that rolled several meters before end the movement. Fortunately for the pilot, he managed to straddle the enemy, winning a first flurry of punches. But the Chief of Security didn't remain idle for a long time and quickly grabbed one of Khorin's wrists and rammed a punch like a cannon shot into the younger klingon's jaw. Khorin noticed how his battered maxilla crunched again. In response, he spat a hodgepodge of blood and saliva into Worf's eyes. The distraction didn't last long, and soon they both struggled again, one to free himself from the grapple and the other to hold his opponent against the bulkheads. Little by little Worf was gaining ground to Khorin's despair, the hands of both were intertwined, preventing both from striking any blow, while the legs of the pilot struggled to keep the other Klingon against the ground. Desperate, he resorted to the only weapon he had left and, when he saw the opportunity, he dealt several blows to Worf's skull, trying to hit a shattering blow in his tricipital lobe. He didn't succeed, but after several replays the security chief seemed to be severely stunned. Khorin scurried to the side, dizzy, hitting the floor with a painful drop. He stayed still there for a few seconds, trying to make the world stop spinning around his head, when he saw it. The human's phaser. Only few meters away, if he just crawled a bit and stretched his arm... a claw grabbed his calf, driving its nails through his uniform. The pilot roared in pain and frustration and used his free leg to kick his enemy desperately, missing more than half of the blows. But his intention was only to distract him long enough. Dragging Worf's, and his own weight, he struggled forward, until his fingers brushed the phaser's grip. But the blood that stained his hands made the weapon slip from between his fingers and roll a little farther, out of reach. The older klingon wasted no time in immobilizing one of Khorin's arms and his legs, proceeding to try to strangle him. The young klingon fighted madly, trying to reach for the weapon, free himself and breathe at the same time. Time seemed to expand infinitely as he tried to stretch out his arm as much as possible and Worf's grip closed ferociously on his throat.


Khorin choked while several black dots threatened to cloud his vision. Then his fingers closed around the phaser. With the strength born of desperation, the pilot turned around himself enough to shoot point-blank at his enemy in the middle of face. Worf's dead weight fell on Lone Wolf, ripping the little air left in his lungs. For a few moments he just stayed still and tried to silence the drumming of his heartbeat in his ears.


When the world stopped spinning around him, he got rid of the security officer and stood up, unsure. Cross was still brawling with the bolian, his battle so wild that it prevented the petty officer from having a clear line of fire to knock out the hologram. Khorin swayed toward them, trying to hold one of them, keep them still long enough for the Trill to have an appropriate angle shot. He tried to do it several times, but he was so dizzy that when he managed to move his arms, the fighters were no longer where he expected. On the third attempt, his dazed brain realized that he still had the phaser in his hand. He aimed quickly and fired. The corridor briefly lit up and a body fell to the floor with a dull sound. "I'm sorry, dude," he said in a raspy voice, "I almost shot you instead of the hologram." Khorin laughed, but his guffaws were interrupted by a fit of coughing.


When he managed to catch his breath again, panting slightly, he composed a crooked grin, which showed too much blood and that one of his new teeth had split in the fray. The three abductees looked at each other for a couple of minutes, catching their breath. "If you're ready, we must work our butt off to get to the armory. Since the weapons seems to work against the holograms but not against us we must armed ourselves to the teeth before continuing with our plan. The Bridge or the Warp Core are the most exposed places to make a truly dangerous attack, then we should head there" he said with a hoarse and aggressive tone. "Even if we overload these ... three phasers, we can blow up a good section of the starship, we just have to choose where they will do more damage. Let's go! "He added. Straightaway the Wolf turned back to the petty officer, crossed the distance between them in a couple of strides and patted her back appreciatively. "Thank you for the help, miss." After this, he made his way down the corridor, but soon Khorin staggered and had to lean back against the wall, barely able to breathe. He quickly regained his breath and kept going, at a slower pace, but determined to comply with the plan.

[ Lt. R'Rori | Ten Forward | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ] @Blue Zephyr @steelphoenix @SummerDawn

The fight’s sudden interruption by holographic Security officers should have been fully expected, in retrospect, R’Rori mused, but given the severity of the threat that the Savi posed to the crew, it was still surprising that they weren’t just beamed out for Recycling. S/he supposed it meant that the simulation was built to accommodate some degree of aggression from the captives. That posed an interesting question of how much their captors knew of their psychology or if they just reacted automatically from previous experience.

Hir eyes narrowed at the thought of what that previous experience meant. This was obviously something they did enough times that there were regulations and rules for it.

There was a voice in hir head that s/he didn’t recognize, speaking of Nerina’s requirements and ideas. It was a feminine mental voice, so not the lad that stopped by hir group earlier and s/he looked around, hir gaze settling on the bar. There were a few there that lingered before getting shooed out. S/he suspected one of them.

Figures. “Speak to me” and she doesn’t bother to actually describe or identify herself. I suppose she just expects to pick up thoughts directed at her. Hey, you! Can you hear me?

R’Rori didn’t expect any reaction from it, but s/he walked over to the bar anyway, nodding at Deacon’s suggestion to meet up outside. There was one woman there that ticked some indefinable box for the former Caitian hybrid, mostly because it didn’t look like she was in as much of a hurry to get going as the rest. R’Rori sidled up to the blue-uniformed woman and tapped her on the arm gently.

“Hi there. I’m Lieutenant R’Rori. I am, well was, the chief counselor on the Endeavour. Were you the one sending out a mass message just now?” S/he smiled politely. "If so, would you like to come with us? I think another new friend for our group will be useful, especially with that talent."

[ Devyrie "Dragon" Okhala (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Devyrie_Okhala,_callsign_%27%27Dragon%27%27) | Observation Pen ~ Ten Forward | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ]
[Show/Hide]After their walk down to Ten Forward, Devyrie and Laurel had spoken and caught up on the large brushstrokes about what the both of them had endured before and after the abduction. Now, as Devyrie and her sister had watched the development with the Klingon and Vulcan - the former being one of her fellow Lone Wolves - the understanding that there wouldn't be an easy escape from the holo-program had dawned on her.

She bit her teeth together, trying to remember some of her father's teachings despite the madness of the situation and what she had personally endured, but it was not until after the proprietor of Ten Forward had ushered them out into the corridor that she decided on something, but she had no idea if her sister was up for it.

"I suggest we head to Engineering," she said to Laurel, folding her arms underneath her chest and frowning in thought, green eyes on the deck. "I think I picked up enough in the Academy to know how to compromise the warp core. I am sure there are weapon lockers on this ship too, from which we can get hand phasers and rifles."

Having overheard them, the former First Officer of the Theurgy walked up to them as well. Nerina looked as determined as Devyrie felt. "Excellent idea, officer. There is another officer aboard that didn't make it here in time. I will inform him what needs to be done, and he might be able to meet us there. I will just speak with the other group. Go ahead, I will catch up with you."

"Yes, Commander," said Devyrie to Nerina, her frown still there, but with purpose came resolve. "Sister, are you ready to end this farce?"

While the older sister led the way, Nerina had walked up to the humans with tails, the Caitian and the teal-collared woman they were speaking with. "Could you try to free those two that were apprehended, arm yourselves, and come to engineering afterwards. We might have an inside man there that can give us access. Better yet, he is also a holographic specialist, so he might just be the edge we need to end this simulation."

Devyrie didn't hear the answer, already well on her way towards the Sovreign-class holo-ship's warp core.

---

OOC: All right, new destination: Main Engineering! Of course, entirely optional if you guys have other ideas. :)

[Lt. Zephyr Praise | USS Enterprise | Ten Forward |  Unknown Savi Ship]
@patches @steelphoenix @SummerDawn


Zephyr had not thought to give a description of herself when it came to her mental commands from the woman named Nerina.  She had not ever been largely telepathic before.  Only being touch telepath with a best friend she hadn't seen in a very long time.  She didn't know how it worked, people figuring out who was talking to them.  Still, she had always supposed it was because she felt when people were talking to her.  Empathy went a long way in helping her locate people like that.  She could feel intent, and direction, and their destination in a way.  It was an odd feeling.  But something she supposed, she had gotten overly used to.

No one responded to her, not a single person looked at her, and for the life of her, she couldn't figure out why.  She had given out a message and for the most part they all seemed as though they didn't hear her what so ever.  Maybe she wasn't good at telepathy, she thought she knew how to use it but maybe she was absolutely wrong with it.  Maybe she didn't know what she was doing even though she thought it might be similar to empathy or the slight very very slight telepathy she had used in the past.  Maybe she was only touch telepath too.  Something went wrong and she needed to go through touching people to give them their message.  Zeph definitely wanted to help, it was ingrained in her, she was just the sort that jumped to action instead of hiding out.

She just had to figure out how to do that this time.

“Do you need a fresh drink?”  Alistair asked curiously.

Zeph winced.  “No.  I don't want to get drunk.” she admitted as she looked at her now empty glass of whatever it was he had given to her in the first place.

“I'm sure there are Quarters we could use on this ship, have a little.. get-to-know-each-other time, if you know what I mean.” He winked at her.

Ugh gross sleezy engineers.

“If you are even remotely in the mood to fuck right now, you're a bent individual.” she said firmly and quickly.

Alistair's eyes widened in surprise.  “I didn't mean t-....”

A woman came over to speak, Zeph turned her attention from the over excited engineer to the woman who seemed to want to speak.  She had been Caitian .. or something.  It was hard to tell but the woman still had a tale even though she wasn't covered in fur.  Still, Zeph looked up at the woman from her seat as she introduced herself as R'Rori.  She stated she had come from a ship called the Endeavour.  Zephyr wondered if they all had or if it was several different ships but one thing she did know was there was a large number of Starfleet in here. 

It seemed that she had been found out after all, which meant that her message had gone out even if not everyone seemed to hear it.  Maybe they were all just very good at pretending that they didn't hear it so that they could continue to be on their own without raising suspicion.  Her brow rose slowly on her face.  “That would be me, yes.  I'm just glad it worked.  I wasn't sure it would on such a large scale.”

The woman offered her to come with the Caitian and another.  That they were getting together a group and someone with her abilities might be useful.  Zeph was glad to be asked, she wasn't good with just sitting around and trying to entertain herself.  It had never been good for her.  She had so many other things she wanted to do in life.  Honestly, and she didn't want to end here.

“I would love to.”

She slid off of the bar and didn't give a second thought to leaving Alistair behind until... “Come too, Alistair, we might make you useful yet.” she said quickly as he hopped off of the stool. 

“Yes Ma'am!” he chimed in quickly just eager to get after things.  He was an Engineer anyway and he might be helpful.  She could do all sorts of things with plants and she could fix just about anyone up.  But, she wasn't sure that it was going to come in handy. Though, with the fact she could treat people meant she could harm them too, but it was against every oath she had ever taken.

As they stepped into the corridor she heard another officer speaking about following the Security officers.  That perhaps that was something they should do.  Zeph thought about the possibilities of that, what could they accomplish from it all. 

“It's possible, but what would we gain from getting them back?  Our best shot might be to use them as the distraction that they are, hoping Security is now tied up and busy while we go do something else.  Storm the bridge, take control, overload the warp core, do something,... anything that could maybe kill the system getting us out of the holoprogram and onto a deck that we could possibly get out of.” she said giving her own thoughts into the mix.

[ Ensign Lin Kae (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Lin_Kae) | Observation Pen ~ Shuttle Bay | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] @Triage @Masorin
[Show/Hide]At odds with the whole situation, frankly terrified but keeping it together as best as he might, the Bajoran looked around the corridor, checking the faces of the people he passed by. He had spoken with Nerina about an hour ago, which was odd in itself since last he knew, she was supposed to have been in stasis. Then again... the last memory he had was from Main Engineering on the Theurgy, where he had suffered an EPS conduit rupture and lost one arm. The last thing he saw was Amelya Duv, the Doctor from the Harbinger, and then... Nothing. Darkness...

...until the Resequence Pod, and the choice. The procedure, and then... this highly advanced holodeck.

Ensign Lin Kae roamed the corridor towards a specific area, one that Nerina had just told him to go to - supposedly to see a familiar face. On the way there, he saw no one he recognised, but because of the Corrections that had taken place, he could very well have walked straight past people from the Theurgy without noticing them. Eventually, however, he reached the area that Nerina had told him about, where she had learned that someone from the Theurgy ought to be.

He emerged into the shuttle bay of the holographic Enterprise, looking around. It was almost empty at this point, rows of shuttles taking up the expanse of the area. But towards one side, he saw a man and a woman, the woman yanking a straight jacket off the man. Lin Kae frowned, seeing that they were both still naked after their Correction, or whatever they had endured. From that distance, Lin Kae couldn't make out their faces, but they were obviously not a part of the holo program.

Further away, the table from an hour earlier remained, and Miles O'Brien was still present, with uniforms and other Ops officers. They were obviously waiting for the man and woman to make their way to them and get their uniforms, but there was no telling if the two were the last to arrive from the Savi experiments. Lin Kae thought a moment, then set his pace towards the table and the awaiting officers.

"Chief," he said in greeting to the hologram. Given his own profession, he always made it a point to be polite to holograms. "Do you know who those two are? Would you mind if I bring them their uniforms?"

O'Brien looked surprised at the request, but shrugged. "Sure Ensign. Computer, who are the officers next to the Type-11 shuttles?"

[Ensign Nathaniel Isley and Junior Lieutenant Sinead O'Riley,] said the voice of the Enterprise's computer, sounding nothing like Thea. Lin Kae couldn't wait to get back to the Theurgy, to try and make things better between him and the Ship A.I. again. First, he had to get off this nightmarish ship, and then try to find her, wherever she was.

"Here you go, Ensign," said Chief O'Brien, who had looked through his PADD and picked out uniforms for Isley and this O'Riley, whom Lin Kae had never heard about. The former was a fighter pilot, this he knew, yet since there was no Tactical CONN representation on the Enterprise, the man had just been given a red-collared uniform, designated for the CONN department.

"Thank you," said Lin Kae, and walked towards the two figures further off in the shuttle bay. He approached them slowly enough to let them see him, not wishing to startle them. He tried to keep his eyes from wandering too much over them, and cleared his throat once he got within earshot. "Hi... I'm Lin Kae, of the Theurgy. We have started to organise ourselves, to try and escape as best as we might. If you want to get off this ship, you should get dressed and follow me. We're heading to Main Engineering. How..."

He paused, looking at them again, trying to see how agitated they were after what they had endured. "How are you?"

---

OOC: Since Isley and O'Riley are still in the shuttle bay despite the earlier time-jump of one hour, let's have them arrive there late. Hope this helps getting things underway!

[ Deacon | Ten Forward | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E Simulation | Precept-ship Versant (Observation Pen) ] @SummerDawn  @patches  @Auctor Lucan  @Absinthe @Fife  @Numen @Masorin @Blue Zephyr

Deacon watched as their new-found ally quietly turned and lost herself amidst the crowd departing from Ten Forward, returning moments later with others in tow, prompting Deacon to stifle a faint curse in the back of his throat.  The idea was to remain discreet and rendezvous with the klingon and the vulcan.  He'd only just stated that it was necessary to keep their gathering small to avoid undue attention in the meantime, and now the group seemed to be growing by the minute.

He considered this turn and how best to play it to their advantage, an idea taking shape in his head.  But how best to present it?  It was fortunate, he supposed, that his education among the priesthood had required some knowledge of the religious histories of the Federation worlds.  Humans had a ridiculous number of religious traditions to draw from -- he could only hope they were common enough knowledge among the Federation crew members to prove worthwhile.

Tapping his communication badge, which seemed appropriate even given his civilian attire, he spoke, "Jack?  Deacon.  I've given some thought to our past discussions and it occurs to me that the answer comes in different flavors.  First, the hydra only has so many heads.  Second, the eye can look out, but never in.  Our desire to convey our experiences to others can sometimes only be reenacted.  I've heard tales of the past encounters of our friends.  Perhaps we could... train our new shipmates?  Better prepare them for what we've experienced.  Sort of surprise them as our friends were... give them the true feel of the moment."

He gazed at those around him and added, "I'll leave the details to you. I'm sure you'll come up with something lovely.  I'm going to arrange some other festivities this side.  Hope you can attend."  Tapping his badge once more, he closed the channel and, giving a look to those gathered around him, he turned and set pace after the security team that had absconded with the would be combatants from Ten Forward.

[Ens Nathanial "Icarus" Isley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Nathaniel_Isley,_callsign_"Icarus"&redirect=no) |  Observation Pen | the Versant ~ Shuttle Bay | Deck 03 | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] @Triage  @Auctor Lucan
[Show/Hide]
When Sinead finally loosened the restraints that were holding him back, Nathan felt his arms get free, and in that moment he did the one thing he had been desiring to do since he had started talking to the woman.

He scratched himself. Nathan spent a good minute scratching his body as the innumerable itches that had been sustained during the time he was locked up and the agitation to his skin from all of the mixes of drugs finally wore away leaving nothing but white marks on his skin as he listened to Sinead talk. For the most part, or at least the parts he could understand he was in agreement breaking the necks of their captors would be a right happy thing to do at this point.

When she said her mind wasn't fully her own he nodded. Some people may have been frightened by the prospect of someone who wasn't in full control over their body and mind, but for Nathan that was pretty much how he had been living for the past few weeks. In a perpetual state of horror and anger at his own unwilling actions after having been turned into a weapon, and now as a romulan everything he felt was amplified. Including one feeling he hadn't noticed when he had been completely tied up, as his thoughts extended past his own now thankfully naked body, and over to hers. Sinead, this woman was attractive, she had good curves, small but perky breasts, in another situation he would ravish her. Still he had a hologram he was hoping to get back too, and this was not the time or place to start that kind of interaction.

There was the rational part of his brain that told him to get control over the situation, but even as he grabbed clothing for himself he was trembling slightly. Putting himself back in tactical white he could at least feel the familiar fabric on his body, even if it no longer felt like his body.

"I get it." Nathan said nodding slowly, his voice slightly deeper than it had been before the surgery. "I've had my own mind twisted against me a couple of times now.  Whatever they did to you, and whatever they forced you to do, you don't need to say, heck you probably can't."

"What you need to know, and what you should focus on is." He paused before giving the critical information that he had come to rely on as another figure approached them.

He knew Lin Kae, perhaps not formally but they had meet during the Niga incident in the break room, in a time which felt like almost years ago now. "Why engineering?"

Nathan didn't answer the question of if he was okay, nor did he continue the conversation with Sinead, rather he looked at the man with a slight amount of agitation as he had come from nowhere, the paranoid voice in the back of his own mind telling him that the other was perhaps one of the holograms like their transporter room chief.

"If we are trying to get out, that would be the faster option." He pointed towards the end of the shuttlebay, towards the massive doors and what laid behind it the void of space, but didn't say more than that rather he fell in line with Lin Kae, the man was a known entity from Theurgy, so he could be... 60% sure that he wasn't a hologram, heck he wasn't even sure if Sinead was real or not.

Perhaps stabbing him would give him more of an answer. He would hold off on doing so for now, but was still curious what was in engineering.

~~~

[ Lt. JG Hi'Jak (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Hi%27Jak) |  Day 5| Observation Pen | Precept-ship Versant | 2100hrs ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]
"Tell me about it, and humans are constantly shammed by their history too. They have no nobility, no honor or strength. They are like week mewling children wanting too much with no patience to earn it properly." Jack actually wanted to spit for a moment, he sighed, he had always been half human, but he had invested so much more time in his Klingon half, that this was an insult. Then again he had always used his human name first and formost, and he was proud of his human degree. Maybe he was speaking too harshly due to the anger he had at not being able to take a deep breath, or at least what a deep breath felt like to him.

"One third of my lung capacity is gone." He said brushing his hand through his hair, not mentioning that his mobility was hindered, or that half his vision was gone as well, no he was focused entirely on the internal parts he had lost to these Savi, and not the external taken from him in combat with spiders. At least there he could say that he had attempted to protect Ida and himself.

not that he wasn't glad the blue bitch was dead.

Then came the question that had him look away from the text as it was translating taking a sigh, as his eye became a bit nostalgic. "Dotnihl was a Trill, the chief security officer aboard 84. Like everyone on 84, she couldn't remember my name, hated my guts, and was probably sleeping with the captain."

Jack shook his head and yet couldn't help but smile. "She called me Hy'Jock, every time I saw her for two years. She was... beautiful, strong, stern, and a capable woman. I had the biggest crush on her, but it was all one sided. I used to make up excuses to go and see her, and those interactions... Maybe it was just the stern way she always addressed me, or the fact that she was angry all the time, but she made me nostalgic. She was a great woman, but... well I am a coward. If she even noticed me I wouldn't have been worthy of her. She's just a fantasy woman I never had a chance with, but those times I was called to her office, they still mean things to me... dumb I know pining for a woman who would probably shoot you if they could."

Hearing the message from Deacon at first Jack had no idea what he was saying. Then as he started talking about their new shipmate, he started to piece it together. He looked at Morali. "Hey... you think that could work? How much control have we wrest away from this program?" Honestly if they could input new parameters it would be better just to summon the exit or something. Maybe have them transported out of the observation lounge or trigger..

he paused for a moment, and started to work again, his hand dancing along the screen as he tried to work past the email for a moment, putting it in a corner of the room. "Safety programs. There has to be procedures like for quarantine and things. If we can look at those than we can learn when and why people get ejected from the program."

[ Lt. JG Sinead O'Riley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sinead_O%27Riley#Personality_Profile) | Shuttle Bay | Deck 03 | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan, @Numen, @steelphoenix, @SummerDawn, @patches, @Masorin, @YasyraTrill & @Fife
[Show/Hide]“Th' words I will use is 'agitated', 'frightened' and 'very angry'.” said Sinead in a somewhat snappy tone as she turned to greet the new person to approach. She didn't recognize him, and as typical of most Starfleet personnel that wasn't Betazoid or Bringloidi, he was trying to be polite and not run his eyes over her naked form. She noted his rank pips on his uniform. “Yeh need not be shyh, Ensign. I am a Bringloidi. Unless yeh think me hideous, we appreciate bein' appreciated.”

She wasn't normally like this...well, not since her time with the Vulcans, but she was definitely losing control. She barely recalled the passage of time too, so that could be one of the primary reasons why she was seeing her more emotional self standing around like a ghost, and able to interact with it, to say nothing of whatever these Savi had been doing to her. She shook her head and accepted the uniform with the yellow collar with a “Thank you.”

She wondered just what had been done to this Nathan, seeing that as soon as she'd freed him from his restraints he proceeded to scratch himself everywhere imaginable. His skin irritation was the least of her problems however, as she also processed his words to her, and then his reaction to Lin Kae. There seemed to be a hint of paranoia in there. She would know, considering the amount of time she'd spent in Hell Sector with any other crew member from the Resolve. They all possessed a healthy amount of paranoia, and it was probably all Zelosa Ejek could do to keep everyone sane.

Once she was dressed, she looked at the Romulan, then at Lin Kae, and she blinked when she saw her ghost reaching out with her hands to strangle the Bajoran. Of course nothing happened, but the ghost grinned at Sinead and said, “Soch a frail neck. If yeh have t'kill him, yeh cain jus' snap it.”

The Bringloidi earnestly wanted to silence the ghost permanently, but she didn't know how at this point, and just pretended to see past Lin Kae before saying out loud, “My name is Lieutenant Junior Grade Sinead O'Riley. So th' others have begun an escape attempt? Very well, we shoul' be doin' the saymh. Lead th' way, Ensign Lin.” She spared Nathaniel another glance, an unspoken agreement on wariness exchanged between them, before she followed behind Lin Kae.

“We shoul' also find ou' where Captain Jien Ives is bein' held.” said Sinead abruptly.

[ Lt. Cross | Corridors | USS Enterprise NNC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ]

Cross had been mostly oblivious to the struggles going on around him, his concentration having been focused on trying to free himself from the blue bastard that held him. He could hear roaring, grunting and the soft thuds of strikes from nearby, only just audible over the blood that pounded in his ears. He threw his head back again, connecting with the Bolian’s already shattered nose, then felt the Bolian shove him into the bulkhead. Pain flared in Cross’ shoulder as he connected with the solid structure of the wall, and a curse ripped from his lips as he bent forward and twisted, trying to drive the Bolian’s head into the bulkhead in reply. The Bolian grunted as his bloody blue head connected with the bulkhead’s surface, though it did nothing to slacken his grip.

Cross twisted and threw himself backwards, pinning the Bolian between himself and the bulkhead, and caught a glimpse of the melee going on between Khorin and Worf. The Klingon’s seemed to be doling out considerable damage to one another, but Cross got only a brief view before the Bolian was twisting him around again. After a few more moments of struggle, Cross felt the Bolian’s grip slacken and fall away, hearing a thud as the blue man’s body hit the floor.

Cross heard Khorin apologize for almost hitting him with the phaser, but the Vulcan only vaguely registered the words and he snarled and kicked the unconscious blue body several times as Khorin fell quiet in a fit of coughing. He kicked the blue bastard several more times before hands closed on his arm once again, gentler this time.

“Cross, stop. We need to get moving.” PO Narelle said softly, her words pulling him back to their current plight.

"If you're ready, we must work our butt off to get to the armory. Since the weapons seems to work against the holograms but not against us we must armed ourselves to the teeth before continuing with our plan. The Bridge or the Warp Core are the most exposed places to make a truly dangerous attack, then we should head there" Khorin said with a hoarse but aggressive tone. "Even if we overload these ... three phasers, we can blow up a good section of the starship, we just have to choose where they will do more damage. Let's go! " Then, moving closer to PO Narelle, Khorin added. "Thank you for the help, miss." before he staggered off down the corridor, pausing for a moment to lean against the wall and steady himself.

”Hey ridge-head, is the armoury in the lounge?” Cross called after the Klingon. He motioned for Narelle to follow him and moved up beside the Klingon, supporting the unsteady man as he turned him around to face the opposite direction. ”I think the armoury is this way. Come on.”

Cross steered the Klingon down the corridor, only able to keep the large man from stumbling with the combined support of himself and Sarah Narelle. As they moved past the still forms of the security team, Cross stooped to retrieve the Bolian’s phaser, then delivered one last stomp to the Bolian, landing the blow on the blue man’s throat. Narelle gave him a stern look from the other side of the unsteady Klingon. Cross gave her a sheepish smile and a shrug in reply as they moved off down the corridor.

”Khorin does has a point.” Cross said after a moment of thought. ”We should get to the armoury and load up on weapons. Then, once we’re armed, I think we should do as he suggests and head for the warp core.” Cross’ face spread into a dark smile. ”The Commander wanted us to disrupt the Savi’s simulation. I think blowing the warp core should just about count as a distraction. Keep an eye out, though.” He added, his face turning serious again. ”With how quickly that security team was on us, the simulation might be designed to prevent disruption by the prisoners. We might have to fight our way to the warp core.”

Cross wore a look of grim anticipation as the three headed down the corridor, himself and PO Narelle supporting the staggering frame of the dazed Klingon. AS they went he kept his eyes sharp, on the lookout for more security teams sent by the simulation to stop them.

[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Khorin_Douglas)| Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Corridors ]
[Show/Hide]Att.: @Auctor Lucan @Fife @steelphoenix  @SummerDawn   @patches  @YasyraTrill @Absinthe @Blue Zephyr  @Anyone else



When Cross drew his attention to the incorrectness of the direction he was heading, Khorin could only snarl, sorely disappointed at his inability to take some jabs and move on. Was he getting old? It couldn't be that, even though when he was a hybrid he had many years of physical fulfillment, both in the race of his father and in that of his mother. In fact, as a klingon, he could still develop his body even further in the next years. Without his consent, the vulcan had placed himself on one of his flanks, while the CPO was placed on the other, supporting his weight and stabilizing his hesitant strides. Khorin wanted to protest, outraged: he was a warrior, a descendant of the proud Mo'Kai House, a Lone Wolf. He wanted to struggle to get rid of the limbs that supported him, while proclaiming aloud his refusal to be treated like an invalid. The results were, at least, disappointing in Khorin's taste. ”HijonHa'! jIH a Lone warrior Qongbogh chalDaq tlha' Dat! qaS an honor to joH affront! I...” Even he himself wasn't able to understand his own gibberish. On the other hand, his physical efforts were barely able to make the trill stumble and he didn't move the slightest of the stoic vulcan. Cross, for his part, continued reciting his phrases without flinching.The only consolation left to the klingon was that, at least, his companion admitted that he was right.


They kept moving through the corridors in the same way for a while, the two tactical officers looking for any glimpse of Enterprise' security teams. Khorin focused himself on trying to control his own breath, inspiring and expiring consciously. Then, without any warning, he gasped for a second. How had he not noticed before? When he was  only a half-blood klingon, two lungs had been more than enough for him. Now, when his third lung was filled again, the klingon realized how much he had needed it. And also he became aware of the brutality of the blow he had sustained to left that organ unusable for so many minutes. Soon, his head was much clearer, his movements more coordinated. Without the slightest subtlety, he got rid of his supports and stepped forward a couple of strides, moving with ease on his own for the first time since the fisticuff with Holo-Worf. "Enough of taking just half measures, I'm not a fucking P'Tok" he loudly grumbled, belligerent. "Put your scrawny legs on the move and RUN." No sooner said than done, he trotted down the corridor, with his mind clear and resoluted again.

With no more hazard situations, they managed to reach deck 36, the very same that Khorin had visited barely an hour ago.The group reached a junction close to the weapon room and, wordlessly, they moved closer to the bulkplates, trying to camouglage their figures out of the sight of the predictable guards that musted were to protect the room, given the initial stir they had caused in the lounge. In unison, they leaned out the corner, peeping at the door of the armory as a kind pole totem, full of suspicion. The klingon was able to see how, unlike his first visit, a pair of bored guards were standing in front of the door of the armory. Cross, quickly pointed out the phasers that each carried, then indicted to himself and later to the human on the right, next pointed to the pilot, to the center of the aisle and the Bajoran woman that protected the left flank. Finally, he fingered to the CPO Narelle and the center of the aisle, the young woman nodded and she walked resoluted to the security team, smile on her face. Soon the two men could hear how she began to talk to the two guards. Khorin couldn't identify exactly what the trill was saying, but after a few moments he could hear one of the holograms crash in a hearty belly laugh. Cross caught the Klingon's attention, waving furiously his arm, then started a countdown with his fingers.


Three. Khorin peeked slightly to visualize his goal. Two. Cross set the phaser in the highest stun set, hesitated a second, and then grimly set it to kill. One. Both men held their breath, ready to go. Zero. They both left their coverage synchronously, and fired in unison. The holograms disintegrated instantly, lefting nothing behind that reminded anyone that they were there. All or nothing, the moment of subtleties was over. And there was no need to be lenient with the savis' holograms.


As a single team, they rushed towards the weapons room. To everyone's surprise, the doors opened when they approached, just as they had done before. Khorin shook his head, incredulous: he was not a security officer and yet he knew that in an unsafe situation like that, with refugees prowling freely through the corridors, the armories and weapons locks must be sealed with security codes. The pilot didn't know what to believe, that either their captors were naïve or over-confident, but it was an unforgivable mistake. One that they should take advantage of. The armory possessed the expected standard weaponry: hand phasers, rifles, and also some interesting toys like a bunch of compression phaser rifle and a couple of isomagnetic disintegrator. Khorin's mouth etched a devious smile and grabbed one of the heavy weapons. "Carry everything you can, explosives, hand phasers, rifles, whatever. If we find another group of abductees we must arm them, even if they don't share our same destination. If we divert the firewall between several points, we can do even more damage. In the best case scenario we'll be able to increase our numbers. The more, the merrier." he added with a humorless chuckle. Khorin didn't think in the worst case, he rarely did it. If their situation worsened, he would ad-lib something along the way. He proceeded to follow his own advice, clutching as much weaponry as he was able to carry. When he felt satisfied, he left the room and stood at the door, watchful.


Soon, his ears caught hasty steps in one of the corridors that led to his location. "C'mon, hurry!" He whispered with gravelly voice, loading his weapon and pointing to the source of the sound.

---

HijonHa' .- set me free
jIH .- I'm
Qongbogh chalDaq tlha' Dat .- wolf
qaS .- This is
joH .- my
P'Tok .- spineless human child

---

OOC: I leave open the possibility that the sound is produced by another group of abductees if there is interest in it. If not, i leave it in the evil mind of Lucan :)

[ Lt. R'Rori |  Observation Pen | the Versant | Hallway with kittens hunting Klingons | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] @SummerDawn @steelphoenix @Blue Zephyr

With the other two officers agreeing to come with hir, R’Rori led them out to Deacon and K’Ren. S/he noted the look on Deacon’s face as the small group approached him. The former hybrid held up hir hands in a nonverbal mea culpa, acknowledging what he had said. S/he was about to introduce everyone to each other when Deacon sent a peculiarly phrased message to Jack. There were religious references that the counselor could vaguely recognize but it mostly sounded like gibberish to hir. When he finished, s/he hesitated a moment before speaking up, pointing to each person as s/he spoke names.

“Alright, so this is Deacon and K’Ren, both from the Theurgy. Deacon and K’Ren, this is … Alistair and … I’m sorry, miss, but I didn’t catch your name?”

It was a little embarrassing, really, to R’Rori that s/he hadn’t taken a moment to ask for this woman’s name before dragging her along for the ride. S/he wasn’t normally this far off hir game, so to speak, but this entire ordeal was taxing both physically and mentally. At least it seemed like the others had a better grasp on what to do. It was probably easier for them, R’Rori figured, given that they seemingly had a similarly easier time handling the changes to their bodies. Deacon was the only other one s/he had really seen so far that was equally discomfited by the new form they were all now forced to get used to.

I do not want to struggle another 16 years before I reach equilibrium again.

Adolescence was rough enough for most, but it proved particularly aggravating to a young R’Rori who had suddenly found hirself thrust into changes and semi-annual carnal urges that s/he didn’t fully comprehend or even want. A childhood where s/he simply *was* changed to an adolescence and young adulthood where s/he was suddenly always assumed to be a certain way just because of hir body’s configuration and it made for some increasing frustration until s/he found a way to live and identify that could give hir peace. It had been a tenuous peace at times and now it was shattered entirely by a species that thought themselves worthy of playing God.

R’Rori was cycling between depression and anger every time s/he dwelled on it, which led to hir to volunteer for anything that would keep hir busy until they all got to safety. Right now, that was herding these cats to rescue a pair of angry men and then heading to Main Engineering like s/he had heard Nerina suggesting.

“While they are useful as a distraction on their own, we also just saw how far that could really go without weapons and somehow, I don’t think our hosts would have been gracious enough to give actual phasers. Paired with us, though, we can all work out something together that would have a greater impact. I believe I heard the Theurgy XO mention Main Engineering, which does contain a ship’s vital systems. Why not track down Cross and Khorin and they can hold off Security for us there? We just need to make our way to the Brig first and free them, assuming they haven’t found a way to make more trouble somehow. Agreed? Then let’s go!”

S/he let out a deep sigh, already starting to feel tired again. It had only been a few days since the changes and somehow, it felt like s/he hadn’t rested enough. Or eaten well enough, for that matter. Here they were, though, and there wasn’t much of a choice available. The counselor also couldn’t quite shake the persistent sense of being an animal being lined up for slaughter. Something in the situation smelled and it wasn’t just the body odour of thousands of mostly unwashed.

“K’Ren, you out of all of us would have the best sense of hearing. Just follow the sounds of a loud, angry Klingon and I’m pretty sure you’ll find our lost friends. Would you and Deacon mind leading?”

[ K'Ren (http://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=K%27Ren) | Observation Pen | the Versant | Hallway with kittens hunting Klingons | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn:  @patches @steelphoenix @Blue Zephyr @Auctor Lucan @Absinthe @Fife @Numen @Masorin
[Show/Hide]Once this plan, or whatever it was that the fellow captees seemed to be dreaming up was, began K'Ren found herself a bit adrift as people started moving off in seperate directions. She'd heard something like this described as 'herding cats' and while she didn't quite get the reference, Caits weren't prone to randomly wandering off after things that caught their attention, she supposed that perhaps human felines were a bit more scatter brained. For herself though, in this moment, she was struggling a little to adjust to her new found senses. Her sight, hearing and smell had been better then human average but now, well now she could sense the world around her a lot better and the incoming information seemed almost overwhelming. The room they'd been in had been loud, too loud, and the cocktail of smells almost too great for her to handle. That's why she was grateful to get out of the room, get int the hallway where the sounds were more muted, the smell less intense. Overwhelmed as she was, she almost felt like a young kitten adrift and lost on the streets of home. That feeling, the desire to mewl a little in distress she stifled, holding onto her mate's hand. Deacon, for all his issues, was her rock right now, her grounding in everything and she didn't want to leave him.

When R'Rori came back with a couple more people, K'Ren gave each a bit of a nod as she was introduced. "We are referring to the two men whom just recently were escorted away by security?" She asked, making sure she was guessing the right ones. She'd smelt them both, the odor of Klingons was far stronger then she'd recalled before but her nose was now about ten times more sensitive then before. "If we wish to catch up to them, I suggest we go this way R'Rori." She said, nose snuffling a little, pointing down the hall. "The scent of Klingon is strongest this way. They are surprisingly quiet at present though that my be my hearing still adjusting." Her ears had been twitching a little as she'd tried to focus on the sound she expected a Klingon might make, but either culdn't distinguish them, or they were in fact quiet as she surmised.

[ Ensign Lin Kae (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Lin_Kae) | Observation Pen ~ Shuttle Bay | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] @Triage @Masorin
[Show/Hide]When he handed over the uniforms to the two fellow abductees, Lin Kae was asked prudent questions by the fighter pilot, who seemed to have his head on his shoulders despite the drastic changes to his physiology. For Kae, it was not so easy to pinpoint what exactly was amiss, for while he was of mixed genes to begin with, he was now fully Bajoran. It was... odd, like wearing a body not fully his own. It was almost like when he had switched bodies with Skye Carver during the time when the Ishtar Entity came to the Theurgy. Of course, the current change was not so profound as to have been made a woman, but the feeling was still similar.

"Outside the shuttle bay is just an indefinite amount of false space, yet all part of the program. What we're trying to do is to disrupt the program itself, not try to leave the ship, since that would likely be futile," he said, and while this answer had been easy enough to give, the naked woman alluded towards appreciating him looking at her body, to which he could but open and close his mouth to a couple of times - a reply escaping him entirely.

Luckily, the woman let him off the hook, suggesting he'd lead the way, and with Isley also following, Kae walked towards the exit - about to leave the shuttle bay behind and make their way to Engineering.

Then, the woman - Sinead - said something that made Lin Kae pause in his step. "Wait... You're from the Theurgy as well?" he asked first, not recognising her. Then again, it wasn't like he had enough time to learn the faces of everyone aboard, and with the influx of people from the Harbinger before they went to Starbase 84, he could hardly credit his ability to recognise new and or old crew members. Yet that was only the first half of it...

"Do you mean..." he began to say, looking to see if he had just misunderstood. Unfortunately, the woman with the thick accent was clearly serious about her claim. "Who... are you, ma'am? And how can you know the Savi has taken Ives?"

As Lin Kae led the way towards Main Engineering, he was concerned. Deeply so. How were they supposed to work their way out of the monitored program and also save individuals who had yet to find their way to the simulation?

[Lt Zephyr Praise | Ambiguous Corridor | USS Enterprise | Demolition Team?]
@Numen @SummerDawn  @patches @Fife @steelphoenix

Zephyr was unheard, but that was fine, she knew they likely already had a plan and she was merely along for the ride.  There was no need for her to be heard at the moment.  She was still glad that she had something to do.  Action had always been her thing.  Standing around looking at everyone else waiting to be rescued was never something that Zephyr could stomach.  She wanted to be busy, she wanted to fight, she wanted to help take these people down so they could leave.  Where she went after that she had no idea as long as it wasn't back to the Azurite Station she would be just fine.  R'Rori introuced K'Ren and Deacon, and then introduced Alistair but apparently Zeph had not mentioned her name nor had it been asked for.

A smile the newly minted Betazoid gave a nod.  “I'm Lieutenant Zephyr Praise.” she said with a bright smile at the group of people that were around her.  She heard that there were others, she could surmise that they were talking about the Klingon and the Vulcan that she had seen fighting earlier.  It was the only thing that made sense she supposed that she could listen in on the minds around her but she knew that was a invasion of privacy and that wasn't something she wanted to be known for.  Instead, she would much prefer to enjoy the company around her and build trust.  Plus, the deeply ingrained ethics she had grown up knowing about wouldn't let her do such a thing.

She could tell R'Rori was tired, it was coming off of the woman in waves even as she spoke and rallied a plan together.  Zephyr put her hand on the young woman's back for a moment a bit of a show of support.  She gave her a reassuring smile.  “It'll be okay.  We'll work together, and get ourselves off this ship.” she said fervently.  She did believe it, they were Starfleet officers afterall.  They spanned so many races, talents, expertise.  They weren't just going to sit here and wait for people to come find them they were going to do all they could to get themselves out.

K'Ren began to lead them off in the right direction.  Zephyr was glad to be moving and glad for the plan.  She was talented in several different weapons and hand to hand training though she didn't look like it she had been trained heavily.  Still, she was just glad to be going forward.  To have a plan that would enable them to at least try something.  She hoped it would work.  She just wanted to find the Klingon and the Vulcan and get some weapons or cause some havoc or something.  If they could shut down the holodeck they were clearly on, they would be able to work on a real room, and with all of them who knew what they would be able to accomplish.  Hopefully something grand.

As the team rounded a corner, she found the minds of the Klingon and the Vulcan there, ahead, some in the corridor. 

“Hold on.” She said quickly stepping in front of the whole group.  “I'm sensing something.”

Carefully, Zephyr held her bare hands out in front of her palms facing forward as she edges around the corner to see the Klingon pointing a weapon right at her.  She lifted her chin, and tossed her shoulders back, she was no weak female and she wasn't afraid of the man.  He would see her colors and know what she was, a medical officer, but he would also know that she was with others, Klingon's were adept he would know that there were others by the sounds of them in the hallway. 

“Mind putting that down?  It's been a hell of a day and as much as I wish it would end I'd also like to keep my head right where it is.” she chuckled slightly trying to be as brave as she could be looking at the both of them.  “I'm Zeph, and I'm here with R'Rori, Deacon, K'Ren, and Alistair.  We wanted to meet up with you guys.” she said not giving the plan away but she would in a moment as she reached out to both their minds.

~We're planning a big attack, and we wanted to come collect you both to come help us.  Main Engineering is our destination, but we all need weapons and you both.  Care to join the crew?~  Her eyes looked at the both of them, and her mental voice was the same as the voice they had just heard out  loud so there would be no surprise of who it was coming from this time.

Her eyes flicked to the Klingon, they always did things to Zephyr.  Their bravado, and their tough-guy attitude were things that heavily attracted her to them.  There was just something about them.  Tall, built, the ridges, she was a sucker for them.  If he's an Engineer.. I'm fucked. she thought to herself waiting for their response.

[ Lt. JG Sinead O'Riley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sinead_O%27Riley#Personality_Profile) | Observation Pen ~ Shuttle Bay | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan & @Masorin
[Show/Hide]Lin Kae's flabbergasted open-mouthed response was also hardly an unfamiliar reaction to her usual open nature and frank statements. It seemed brutal honesty was always potent in shock value, no matter how often she used it (which was all the time). Still, it actually...amused her, somewhat. And made her feel a little better about their situation. Nevertheless, she maintained enough composure and self-control to be able to focus on the task at hand, namely finding a way out of the holodeck program, and then staging a marginally effective revolt and escape, and then most importantly, finding and returning Captain Ives to the Theurgy. It had to be their topmost priority and they'd already wasted too much time.

She eagerly followed the Bajoran, starting to recall his personal details, which she looked up shortly after she'd left Thea's and Selena's company on the day that they'd worked to rig a modified and improved holo-emitter for the ship's AI to use with greater mobility. She paused the same time with Kae, showing an impatient expression when he slowed down for clarification, and followed up with more queries. Exhaling softly through her nose, she resigned to answer the questions, since she would need the man's assistance, considering his qualifications and specialty, so earning his trust and understanding would go a long way to accomplishing their goals with alacrity.

“I am Lieutenant Junior Grade Sinead O'Riley of th' USS Resolve, formerly.” she folded her hands behind her and fixed her shimmering blue eyes on the man, who had about four inches on her in height, so she was looking up at him, yet somehow managing to make it seem like she was looking downwards. “As of th' Battle o' Starbase Eighty-Four, I be Engineer, Holodeck specialist, for th' USS Theurgy. On th' third day since th' battle, we were simultaneously accosted by th' Asurians and their allies, the Savih. A leader, or their supreme commanderh, Echtand qi Versanth, appeared on th' bridge o' th' Theurgy as a hologram t' address th' crewh. I was present t' witness. Echtand made it clearh that they were takin' Captain Jien Ives, a ship called th' Cinsaj, an Omegah Device, and most likely, Thea's positronic brainh, along with other persons of interest t' them. I know for certain that Captain Jien Ives be here, since I intercepted him as he was bein' beamed away. We were separated afterh.”

She gestured to the Bajoran, “I had spoken t' Thea and Selena Ravenholm. Yeh are Ensign Lin Kae, born t' a Bajoran ambassador an' a Starfleet lieutenant workin' aboard Starbase Two-Three-Sevenh. Yeh suffered from an extreme immunodeficiency, which yer father counteracted wi' a safe room, usin' holo-emmiters an' various programs t' aid yeh in yer early life. 'tis th' reasonh yeh have a strong affinity an' skill wi' holo-technology, a skill we must put t' good use immediately in order t' efficiate our escape and subsequent rescue of th' Captain, an' if she be present, Thea.” Sinead regarded Thea as a fellow sentient rather than a machine, no matter how much she was in effect, a starship, and it was likely Lin Kae would appreciate the sentiment.

“We must be about it, Lin Kae. Are yeh familiarh wi' th' infamous unsolvable query tha' overloads virtually all computers an' holoprograms? Admiral Stazi once spoke of i' in his lecture at Starfleet Academy. P'haps th' same flaw exists even in Savi machines.”

[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Khorin_Douglas)| Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Corridors ]
[Show/Hide]Att.: @Fife @steelphoenix  @SummerDawn   @patches  @Blue Zephyr

Khorin waited anything hostile would turn the corner: another security team, Holo-Worf back from the unconsciousness and ready to end up the brawl that they had started few ago, one of their captors clad in a security outfit... But when his finger had begun to pull the trigger, what he saw was a slender woman, hands in front of her showing that she was not threat, but the rest of her all defiant attitude, as if she challenged him to dare to continue taking aim at her. As if a klingon warrior, almost a head taller than her, possibly twice her weight, wearing yellow and armed to the teeth was just a ill-mannered punk. "Mind putting that down? It's been a hell of a day and as much as I wish it would end. I'd like to keep my head right where it is." She softly chuckled, a boldly stare in her eyes. The Lone Wolf kept his aggressive stance for a moment, and then threw the gun over his shoulder, straightened  his back and puffed up his broad chest. Despite the arrogance of his pose, a crooked grin appeared in his bruised face, showing up his chipped tooth. He really liked the arrogance that the woman, Zeph according to how she had introduced herself, had shown. He had always had a soft spot for determined women with strong character. Then she pointed out that the rest of the steps belonged to the cats and to a certain guy called Alistair, who he didn't have meet yet. The pilot's smile widened even more, he remembered well the quasi-human's murderous look, Neko was a Lone Wolf fellow and battle-trained and R'Rory, well, he almost didn't know hir but s/he had shown a strong temper when s/he tried to separate him from the vulcan in the Ten-Forward. Things were getting interesting.

"Oh yeah! It's about time you decided to join the cool guys' gang" He rumbled, obviously jesting. "Khorin here," he said pointing himself with a thumb, then turned slightly to the armory. "Over there, the ugly guy with pointy ears is my sidekick, Cross, and there is CPO... Spots" Only then did Khorin realize he didn't had the faintest idea of ​​what  was the name of the trill that accompanied them. He opened his mouth to add something else, when he felt the words of the newcomer invading his mind. The klingon stiffened his back in spite of himself, turned back to the woman and realized for the first time the deep, starless voids of her eyes. His race distrusted telepaths by default, and the experiences of the day only increased the reluctance of the pilot to such advances. However, he understood the strategic advantage of this type of communication at that time, and in addition, he was never reluctant to take risks. So he tried to open his mind to answer the message, still concerned about what could leak out of his brain to the betazoid senses. He wasn't sure if he would only resonate in her mind or in everyone's mind, but Khorin hoped that he sounded strong and loud in the same way his voice reverberated in the aisle. ~Same target here, we've got a small arsenal to blow up the wrap core if necessary, but we've also had a few problems with the firewall, sure you have notice it~ He thought, tilting his head to pointed their bloodied uniforms. ~Good news are that the phasers affect the holograms, but they're harmless to us, so even if I've shot you before I wouldn't have gave any scratch, beautiful~ He added winking an eye and giving Zeph his best cheeky smirk.

Then he made a quick inventory of the weapons he carried, separated a light rifle from them and passed it to the betazoid, taking advantage of the situation to get close to her. Khorin hoped that the blueshirt knew how to handle herself with the weapon, at least her attitude suggested that it was better not to question her ability in the matter. ~There's more where this one came from, let that your group gets ready before continue to engineering~ Looming close to her, he could confirm that she was easy on the eye. It stirred his curiosity to know where she has come from, he didn't remember having seen her before the holodeck was activated, maybe she was another Endeavour abductee, like Cross and the CPO?

[ Lt. Cross | Corridors | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ] @Auctor Lucan @Numen @Blue Zephyr @patches @SummerDawn @steelphoenix @YasyraTrill

After having taken care of the security team guarding the armoury and gaining access, Cross had set to work gathering an arsenal for them to use in their attack on Engineering. Khorin had prattled on as Cross had slung several Type-III phaser rifles over his shoulder. The Klingon seemed to have a tendency to talk just for the sake of talking, a habit that made a stark contrast with Cross’ tendency towards silence.

I wonder if he keeps yakking on like that when he sleeps… Cross thought as he buckled on a belt and clipped a Type-II phase pistol on his right hip before adding several more Tyle-II phasers and pouches to it. He tucked several stun grenades into the pouches and finally picked up another phaser rifle, shrugging his shoulder to shift the rifles slung there into a better position.

”C’mon, hurry!” Khorin suddenly hissed, pointing to the corridor outside the armoury. Cross froze for a moment and listened, then nodded and followed the Klingon out into he corridor, hefting one of the phaser rifles and bringing it up into a firing position.

Khorin took point, phaser rifle at the ready and Cross stayed back to cover him. PO Narelle covered the corridor in the opposite direction, kneeling and looking down the sights of her rifle.

Cross could see little of the corner directly in front of the Klingon, the big oaf’s large form blocking his view. After a moment of waiting, Cross head a female voice, and saw Khorin sling his rifle. Then the idiot puffed up like a Terran blowfish and spoke, introducing himself to the new arrivals and calling him a…

Did that think-headed bastard just call me his sidekick? Cross thought as he lowered him rifle and stepped forward to see who had arrived. And his ugly sidekick to boot! Cross fumed, raising his left hand from the foregrip of the rifle to scrub his sleeve across his mouth, causing flakes of dried green blood to shower down to the deck. Ok, maybe I’m probably not at my prettiest right now… but fuck him anyway. Cross though.

Then he heard a voice in his head, explaining that the new arrivals planned to attack the warp core as well. Cross stepping up next to Khorin and saw a woman in a teal uniform standing in front of him, behind which stood the three felines. Cross guessed that the woman was a Betazoid, judging by her eyes. The Klingon seemed to have an eye for the teal-shirted woman, which made Cross grin inwardly.

”Oh, sure. Now you puff yourself up like a big warrior. You could barely walk a few minutes ago!” Cross chuckled. ”Is she the reason you tried staggering back to the lounge after we dealt with the security team?” Cross asked, glancing between the woman and the Klingon.

Cross had once been a shy, quiet officer. His friendship with Kai Akoni had changed that. Now he used good natured shit-giving as a sign of friendship. Some people thought him witty. Others thought him an asshole. Both opinions may have been partially right. The truth was, Klingon was growing on him.

Like a fungus…

”If you’re done playing the tough guy, our objective is this way.” Cross said, nodding down the corridor behind them. Then directing his gaze towards Lt. R’Rori, he paused and added. ”Thank you for trying to stop me back there, counsellor. I’d lost control. Your words helped me see through the rage.” He said, nodding to the now mostly human Lieutenant. ”I… I owe you.”

With those words he stepped forward and distributed the rifles he had slung over his shoulder to the others in the group, which served to both strengthen their firepower and lighten his load, granting him more mobility.

~So what’s the plan of attack?~ Cross thought, hoping his thoughts would be heard as he looked at the Betazoid who’s name he had missed. ~If we move quickly we should be able to storm Engineering and put down the crew without much trouble. Don’t worry about shooting fellow Starfleet personnel. You won’t be able to hurt other hostages with these phasers, but you’ll put the holograms down without much issue.~ Cross looked around the group. ~Most of us will have to hold any security teams off at the doors while someone rigs the core to blow. Who's going to work on the core?~

[Ens Nathanial "Icarus" Isley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Nathaniel_Isley,_callsign_"Icarus"&redirect=no) |   Observation Pen ~ Shuttle Bay | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E] @Triage  @Auctor Lucan
[Show/Hide]

So the aliens had Ives. That didn't sit well with Nathan, he wasn't sure exactly what the captain was thinking these days. The last time he had seen her was in the brig, the other side of an interview that had been painful to recall, but he wouldn't exactly blame them for everything that had been said and done at that table. Ives had helped Isley get his wings back even subtly and he had to help her for that. Plus some part of him was still very much attracted to Ives, both their forms were very appealing, and he sometimes still had dreams of the night back in the captains yacht.

That night felt like it had happened life times ago, and looking down at his green skin he may as well not even be that person anymore. Still he would do a lot to save Ives. When asked if he had any prof ency in Holodeck programming he shrugged. "I've run training simulations for the fighters, and I programmed one or two simulation maneuvers to see if they would play out as I intended them, but my experience is that it's a computer, it does what i tell it to when i push buttons."

He looked between the two engineers he was suddenly following towards the warp core of the ship. "I'm a pilot. I fly ships I don't build them."

He shrugged. "If violence is the solution to this problem, I'm in, but my version of a computer reboot involves a very heavy stick. and a very broken console."

[ Deacon | Corridors | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E Simulation | Precept-ship Versant (Observation Pen) ] @SummerDawn   @patches   @Auctor Lucan  @Absinthe  @Fife  @Numen  @Masorin  @Blue Zephyr @YasyraTrill

Deacon watched the exchange between the female betazoid, the klingon and the vulcan.  On the whole, kzinti had some latent level of respect for klingons, though they found some of their practices convoluted and, perhaps, contradictory.  Still, on the whole, the species did tend to lien towards a societ focussed on honor and combat.  What you wanted, you acquired through sweat, toil, and ambition, not unlike kzinti, although klingons did tend to have a rather singular focus on booze whereas kzinti found it little more than a distraction.

Vulcans were another matter.  The kzinti distaste for the species was perhaps only second to humans, which said much considering vulcans not only tended to be telepathic, but also abstained from the consumption of meat.  For humans to held with more contempt than mind-reading leaf eaters was enough to tell anyone the scope of the kzinti desire for vengeance.  Still, Deacon had to admit that, by comparison to the boisterous klingon, he personally prefered the silent introspection of the vulcan.

Their interplay, however, combine with the klingon's barely suppressed leering at the betazoid, was wearing on his nerves, even through the numbing agent that kept them out of his head.  "If you are done jabbing each other," he said quietly starting with the vulcan, "and thinking at each other," he added to the betazoid, "and flirting with each other," he concluded to the klingon, "then perhaps we can focus on the task at hand? I have been in contact with other members of our crew who may be able to provide some distraction."

As Cross handed out the laser rifles, he found Deacon less than receptive, holding it more like a club than anything.  "Despite appearances, I was raised kzinti.  Your Federation denied us such weaponry and now you hand them out expecting us all to be experts in their use.  I'd have an easier time blowing a hole in the bulkhead with my fist.  Our weaponry is a touch more... visceral."  His gaze shifted slightly towards the klingon.  "I'm certain your colleague catches my meaning."

[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sarresh_Morali) | Observation Pen/USS Enterprise NCC 1701-E - Stellar Cartography | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Masorin 
[Show/Hide]
"I...." Sarresh opened his mouth, then shut it, slowly. He was about to give the man some grief but really, there was no point. And really what kind of room did Sarresh have to mock anyone for feelings they might have? Especially given that Jack seemed to be quite aware that everything was one way. A small part of him had to acknowledge that the type of woman described bore at least a passing resemblance to the kind of woman that he himself was sleeping with (not that he would tell Sel and, truthfully, more than just sleeping with.) Though he couldn't really speak about this person he'd never met whom might or might not be sleeping with their captain. Then again....

"The starbase captain...Hawthorne. He has a parasite in his gut. I wonder if she knew?" He mused softly, fully cognizant of the fact that they would never know. "Was she willing, or just another pawn. Assuming you're right about them screwing." He gestured to Jack and shrugged, deferring to the one arm'd man for an educated guess on just how much this Security officer he lusted after knew, or didn't know, about Captain Hawthorne.

And this man understands what it means to wake up in the wrong body, now. Perhaps I should endeavor not to piss him off? Having someone in his life with practical experience as to what he himself was going through could be useful. It was the kind of thing he was sure the councilor that kept trying to get him to schedule a session would have said. Or so he assumed. Feels like it, in any case

But Sarresh pulled his thoughts away from that and focused in on what Jack was saying, his all too human eyes narrowing in contemplation. He'd heard the call from this...Deacon fellow, but could barely make head or tails of it. The man had been attempting to speak in allusions and allegories and it was almost as bad as following a straight translation of Tamaranian without the cultural context algorithms of the Universal Translator.

Almost.

"The theory is sound," he agreed after a a long moment, rerouting some of the spiders that had, up until that point, been messing with the environment sub systems on deck 17 (every toilet on the deck was now configured to reverse their directional flow to expel instead of consume. All he had to do was push a button). Instead he sent them probing about, to find - perhaps - the overriding quarantine function of the Versant's tie-in to the holodeck sub systems. "enough distractions could open up an avenue to accessing the specific system. Assuming that it doesn't just lead straight to being immediately recycled. We'd need at least a few moments to make an escape, post re-materialization." A pause, as a very nasty, disturbing thought bubbled up from the darkness of his mind.

"Can they recycle someone mid beam?" He asked, in a soft, hushed tone.

[ Ensign Lin Kae (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Lin_Kae) | Observation Pen ~ Shuttle Bay | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] @Triage @Masorin
[Show/Hide]Lin Kae had thought Sinead O'Riley was from the Endeavour, since he had encountered a few other abductees from that ship when he first entered the Enterprise simulation. More surprising, however, was how this woman claimed to have skills akin to his own, and that she already knew who he was. He wasn't sure how much she'd read, but his official record was quite stained with his betrayal at the Black Opal, an incident where he'd done and said things he couldn't quite remember afterwards. She had his rank of Ensign right, which meant she knew about his demotion, or she could just have seen the pip in his collar. Either way, there certainly was no need for introductions on his own part.

Then, the woman spoke of Ives, confirming that he'd heard her right. But not just that. She also spoke of an Omega Device, which he knew naught about, the Reaver fighter they had collected from the Calamity... and Thea. The mere mentioning of Thea made him stop in the corridor, the three of them having left the shuttle bay. Is... Thea here?

While it wasn't any certainty, Lin Kae would wager that if the Savi wanted something, they were advanced enough to collect it. They had even beamed him out of a stasis chamber just because they wanted to Correct him, so as much as he dreaded the prospect, he couldn't dismiss it. "Thea," he said, the name tinged with regret because of what he'd done at the Black Opal, betrayed her for reasons he couldn't name. While Sinead seemed to regard her as a person, Kae loved the photonic person he had been working so closely with, which made his actions at the Opal even more a mystery. Moreover, he was filled with horror at the prospect of what the Savi might be doing to her on the Versant. "If she is here... I have to do right by her. The Prophets know that I never wanted to...."

He took a deep breath, trying to focus. "We need to find her. Captain Ives too, and that Reaver is evidence, right? About the parasites attacking us by using the time stream?" A rhetorical question, everyone on the Theurgy knew that much. He thought about what Sinead and Nathaniel Isley had said about the holo program. He reined in his wayward mind and tried to focus on the tasks ahead. He continued down the corridor. "I know about Stazi, but the problem is... we might need an external source of energy either way we do it. In fact, since we have to get people out of the simulation and aid us from the outside, I think Mister Isley here is closer to the current solution. First, we need to compromise the warp core, end the simulation, and do our best to use the new situation that follows. Once the simulation is disrupted, there are a number of things we can do in a holosuite to keep the simulation offline. I have...."

Lin Kae trailed off, seeing someone familiar in the corridor ahead... and she wasn't alone.

[ Commander Nerina (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Nerina) | Observation Pen ~ Corridor | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: All
[Show/Hide]Her pace brisk, Nerina was making her way towards Engineering when she heard a voice behind her.

"Commander," it said, a male voice, and when Nerina paused and turned towards it, she saw a man in a red-collared uniform and a beard. Tall, and well-built. She knew this man from reputation, but had never actually met him before. It was Commander Riker, and he was smiling with his eyes when he approached her, a saunter to his gait. "Could I have a word?"

Not in the least bit interested in speaking with the hologram, Nerina did not want to draw more attention to herself by refuting the man. She stopped, turned, and folded her hands behind her back. "Of course, Commander Riker. Is anything amiss?"

"Well, I can't reach Lieutenant Commander Worf, but I heard his report, that he'd encountered you and a group of people in Ten Forward while apprehending two officers there. It was not long ago, and I was thinking you'd know something about who the officers were?"

Nerina had a feeling about what might have happened to Worf, and she didn't want Riker to start any investigation. "No, I am sorry. I am new on this ship, and I did not recognise the two officers," she said, even if she was familair with the Klingon from the Theurgy. "Perhaps Lieutenant Commander Worf lost his combadge in the commotion of the arrest?"

"Yes, I suppose that could have happened, or he's conducting interrogations," said Riker, who gave Nerina a once-over with his eyes, before that smile returned again. "So you're new aboard the Enterprise. Has anyone given you a tour yet? I am available for an hour or so, if you are interested?"

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the human - forgetting that she was entirely human herself - Nerina let her smile remain plastered on her face. Perhaps she could talk her way out of it? Lead him on? "Sure, I would love to, Commander. It's getting a bit late, though, and I was about to retire to my quarters. Perhaps you could see me there, and we could look over the deck plans together? Perhaps I could offer you something to drink, as well?"

Riker's face brightened even more. "I would love to. 2300 hrs.?" Wasn't he engaged with the Counselor on the Enterprise? It seemed the Savi didn't know what that meant. "I will make sur-"

[Worf to Commander Riker, come in!] called a rough voice through Riker's combadge. [We have a couple of officers that resisted arrest, striking down me and my security officers! I recommend a warrant to be made for their arrest.]

Riker frowned. "I'm sorry. I need to take this," he said, turning away to take the call. Nerina had smiled and nodded...

...but as soon as the Commander had his back towards Nerina, her smile died out, and she raised both her fists in the air. She cried out, and bore her arms down as hard as she could, straight into the base of the hologram's neck. It made Riker sink down on his knees, and even though her body was weaker than before Correction, she dealt all the force she could muster into another strike across the man's temple. He went down like his strings had been cut. Watching his form, breathing hard, Nerina heard the combadge again. [Commander Riker, come in!]

Nerina crouched down and detatched the combadge from the Commander, looking around. As she did, her heart almost stopped when seeing three officers further down the corridor. Fortunately enough, she recognised the one in the forefront immediately. It was Lin Kae. Nerina waved them over, but tapped her own combadge to make a call of her own.

"Nerina to Khorin Douglas, where ever you are," she said, trying to come up with some way to mask her message and yet still make it clear. She had to make them take precautions so that they weren't apprehended again, and Worf would try to locate them with the internal sensors. The fighter pilot had to remove his and the Vulcan's communicator immediately. "It seems your friend from Ten Forward might have dropped his combadge. He is looking for it very diligently. Perhaps you should put it in a safe place, if you happened to pick it up. Otherwise, I am sure the... engineers could make a new one for him. Nerina, out."

She could but hope the man would understand that engineering was the place to go, before they made their move. Her train of thought ended, however, when she made eye-contact with the Romulan walking next to Lin Kae and a woman with auburn hair and strange eyes. Her eyes widened a little, recognising those features despite the changes. "Nathaniel Isley?"

Memories flashed before her eyes, where she remembered how they had taken advantage of the privacy of a turbolift, and she couldn't help the slight blush that rose to her cheeks.

[Security Alert. Security Alert. All hands not on active duty, return to quarters until further notice.]

This is not the time to reminisce!

"Commander Nerina," said Lin Kae, whatever lay between her and the pilot completely lost on him, "we... might have to hide the First Officer's body."

Nerina blinked, looking down at Riker. "Y-Yes, and then, we must assemble everyone.... before we make our move."

---

30 MINUTES LATER | DAY 05 | 2300 hrs. | CARGO BAY 04 | USS ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E PROGRAM

---

(https://orig00.deviantart.net/43ca/f/2018/189/f/2/ep05ch01cargohold04_by_auctor_lucan-dcgm8s0.png)

[ Devyrie "Dragon" Okhala (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Devyrie_Okhala,_callsign_%27%27Dragon%27%27) | Observation Pen ~ Cargo Hold 04 | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: All
[Show/Hide]Gradually, abductees had trickled their way down to Engineering, and there, Nerina and Lin Kae had gathered them all in Cargo Hold 04, which wasn't far from there. Devyrie Okhala looked away from her sister, Laurel, and tried to see if she could recognise some of the new people, but aside from a small gathering of Andorians and two Ovri - most of them from the Theurgy - the Corrections made it exceedingly hard for Dev to know for sure if she'd met them before.

"Time is short," said Commander Nerina, who had unzipped the collar of her uniform and had a rifle in her hands, a hand phaser at her hip, whilst she addressed the small crowd of abductees in the cargo hold, "and we can't stay here for long before Security notices, so we'll be brief. Everyone, check your rifles and hand phasers. Lin Kae, Zephyr Praise, if you will?"

Ensign Lin seemed determined, quickly going over the plan by whispering to Zephyr. Devyrie was close enough to hear him, however, before the Betazoid might repeat the words to everyone telepathically. "'A starship's primary power come from a matter and anti-matter reaction, harnessed with a dilithium matrix. This is possible through magnetic fields, which contain the anitmatter, since it would otherwise annihilate any ordinary matter it came into contact with. These carefully calibrated magnetic containment fields control the  streams of matter and antimatter, bringing them together in the right proportions and at the right rate to produce the required amount of power. If the magnetic containment fields get weakened sufficiently for anti-matter to leave this containment... and the Savi has made this program authentic enough to real life data... then we should be able to cause an uncontrolled reaction by disabling the containment field. We only need a minor initial loss to collapse it, resulting in the sudden release of all the ship's antimatter supply, which would annihilate itself against the rest of the ship, and end this simulation. Our common target, for all of us, is the very top of the warp core, where the antimatter and the magnetic fields are most vulnerable to phaser fire."

Nerina then stepped up to Zephyr's other side, and whispered in the wake of Kae's words. "We have already ascertained that the phasers aboard this ship can't hurt us, since the Savi merely use this program to distract us and keep us healthy in our captivity. Given that they hold a modicum of interest in our health, and the holographic crew is vulnerable to these weapons, we should be able to storm Engineering and put down any kind of resistance we encounter on the way there."

Devyrie checked the power cell on her own rifle, noticing the 'ifs' in the plan, but figured it was a solid bet. Her question was for something else, and she made eye-contact with the Betazid as she worded her question in her thoughts. Okay, so we manage to end the simulation. Then what? We'd just be in a barren pen, and it's not like we're any closer to actually escaping captivity.

After a while, since the Betazoid was a medium between them, Lin Kae whispered the reply for the benefit of all involved. "Then, Junior Lieutenant O'Riley and I will then be able to act, since we are both specialists in holo-technology. The time-window might be slim, but we'll either learn enough to enter the systems, with the help from Junior Lieutenants Hi'Jak's and Sarresh Morali's research into Savi coding, or simply be able to deactivate the system altogether. It might be a slim chance, a first step... but it's what we have at this point, and none of us wants our memories to be wiped."

"We have a few priorities, regardless what may happen," whispered Nerina, the words echoed in Devyrie's thoughts. "It would seem the Savi have abducted Captain Jien Ives of the Theurgy, and taken the Thea A.I:s positronic brain. Moreover, they have a fighter craft called Cinsaj, which is evidence about the parasitic usurpers in Starfleet Command, and something called an Omega Device, which we know nothing about, but given the import placed on it by the Savi, might not be good if they keep it. Our survival, our escape, is paramount, but these four objectives are of import, and should we encounter either of them, we need to secure them and take them from the Savi."

Of course, given the present company, these objectives were decidedly not obvious priorities or the Endeavour crew, but at least they had learned - during the brief time in the cargo hold - why they were of import to the Theurgy crew. Devyrie suspected that there was plenty of doubt, but since they had to work together, the Endeavour crew would at least try to work with them to get off the nightmare ship.

Then, the Cargo Hold doors opened, overridden by the Enterprise's security guards.

"We have company!" called ThanIda zh'Wann, one of the Andorians that had come to the gathering quite late. The luminescence of the corridor hit their eyes, and the weapon lights of the security detail's rifles pierced the dim light of the cargo hold. There was shouting, but Devyrie Okhala already had the stock of her rifle at her shoulder. Right then, it felt fortunate that her squadmate Khorin Douglas and the one called Cross from the Endeavour had managed to get phaser weapons for them all.

The shoot-out began, and they were thirty meters from Engineering. "Go, go, go!" called Nerina, phaser beams passing harmlessly through her, whereas her own beams made guards topple and fall. Devyrie was already moving, only looking to her sister before pressing onwards - heading for Engineering.

Even though they were holograms, they still looked like Starfleet Officers, but Dev was past the point of caring.

[Red Alert. Red Alert,] said the intercom, and the klaxon sounded throughout the ship while the abductees made their move.

---

OOC: All right! 7 days response time begins today, where everyone in the Cargo Hold must end their post with their characters getting inside Engineering, preferably firing their phasers at the top of the warp core. This is your time to have your characters mow down any opposition, or merely follow in the wake of the combatants if they are not likely to use phasers at all even in this situation. Physical violence against the holograms is another option, of course, but the point is that they need to bring the program offline. Here are image references for Engineering on the Enterprise-E, where your next posts should end up: [Show/Hide]The reason why I must push for this leap forward in progress is that we're at a standstill and must progress the story to this point now. Take the opportunity to have fun with this next action-filled post of yours! Oh, and the 30 minutes where people gather in the Cargo Hold is open for Supplementary threads, of course, just like any other scenes aboard the Enterprise/Versant up to this point. The naming convention for such threads belonging to Chapter 02 is still: Chapter 02: Supplemental [ Day XX | XXXX hrs. ] Insert Title.

Here are the characters present in Cargo Hold 04, and if there are significant reunions because of this, it should be handled in Supplemental threads or mid-action as they storm Engineering. If someone wish to have their characters elsewhere on the Enterprise, PM me, otherwise you are expected to post within 7 days. :) : [Show/Hide]

[ Lahkesis Saugn | 10 Forward | "USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E" | Precept-ship Versant ]
[Show/Hide]
As Ten Forward emptied out and Lahkesis remained behind. She felt lost. She thought many of the people she watched leave looked familiar, but there was also a horrible feeling under the recognition. Like some horrid scab that would spill out its diseased insides if picked at even a little. She was too scared to follow them and too lost to go anywhere else, so she remained in the lounge, feeling as if her feet were not quite on the ground.

The whole world around her felt sickeningly wrong and she could not figure out what it was about it that was so wrong. It was like a million tiny daggers in her mind. As if some deep dark part of herself was screaming some truth she could not hear and she could feel the desperation inside brewing ever stronger.

She moved to the massive windows of the lounge and peered out into the starry abyss beyond the windows of thick transparent duranium. She watched them with a sort of cold detachment, her mind grinding as it tried to figure out why she felt so wrong.

And then she lurched forward and vomited onto the carpet of the lounge. The emesis, composed of an odd mixture of thick viscous gel that was clearly inorganic and pale white fluid that appeared vaguly like ejaculate. Her stomach tended to take a very long time to break anything down to the point it could enter her lower intestines. This was why she avoided eating and stuck to mineral water. She stared at the puddle in front of her and without thinking her hand moved to her abdomen. She felt like there was supposed to be a wound there.

A few people came over to her, but she assured them she was fine, they wanted to take her to sickbay, but she declined. Instead, she remained on her hands and knees, staring at the puddle of her own vomit.

She could not remember the details of anything. As if there was a great chunk of her memory, of her past, simply missing.

She looked up and out the windows again from her position on the floor. The stars were in the wrong places. She was not where she was supposed to be.

[Lt. Zephyr Praise | Enterprise Hallway | Trying Not to Die |  Breathe Just Breathe | Unknown Savi Ship]
@Numen @Fife @steelphoenix @Auctor Lucan

There was a story there, with the chip-toothed Klingon that stood in front of her with some sort of confident and boastful grin on his face.  She could feel his emotions brushing against her, the way that he was geared for battle, ready to take people down, and yet surprised at the seemingly small woman standing in front of him with a great deal of bravery.  His name was Khorin, and once he took in the rest of those with her, she was glad to see him relax a little even if he was a bit more loud than he needed to be.  But then, he was Klingon and loud was basically the base setting when it came to talking.  At least, that was what she had noticed in the few that she had met in her life time.  He introduced a Cross and .. Spots?  The  Sidekick, Cross, did not seem happy about something, she wasn't sure what.. and she didn't pry.

She wasn't sure that was the name, but she would go with it until she was told otherwise. 

Zeph was honestly surprised when she could hear the Klingon's mind in her own.  She hadn't known it would be that easy, though she had never been telepathic like she was before.  It was new, unusual and she kind of liked it. Having that extra connection to the people around her though in the back of her mind was the pounding of all the ethics lessons that she had been forced to sit through for eternity growing up on Betazed.  The ones that reminded them you couldn't just up and invade the mind of others or glean their deeper emotions without express permission.  At the same time, this was not really a permission type of exercise, this was trust, and survive, and later she could go back to making sure that her ethics were up to par.  Right now, she was all about just saving all the lives that she could and getting them all off this boat of horrors.

She started at the fact that he called her beautiful, a slight blush crossing her cheeks because of the surprise.  She hadn't expected him to find her attractive, she was thin, but she had a good deal of muscle on her body.  He didn't know that she knew how to fight or anything like that, but for now, she appreciated the compliment.  That wink though... did things to her insides turning them into some sort of mush puddle that she couldn't afford for them to be right now.  Still, his answer was a shy but sweet smile.  Cross, went off on the Klingon causing Zephyr to chuckle, she couldn't help it.  The brazen personality was something that couldn't be helped.  “Actually, I've never met him before, so that can't be why.” she admitted honestly to the man.

The Klingon, Khorin, stepped closer to her, he was taller than her and she looked up at him with those lovely dark eyes of hers.  They had once held color but since the correction there was nothing but the black orbs that were concurrent with her race.  Handing her a rifle she grinned and took it, shouldering it smoothly on her back so that she could reach it when she needed it.  His voice continued in her mind reminding her that the holoprograms could not hurt them.  He told her there were more weapons and that the entire group could have them.  This close, her heart thumped heavily in her chest.  Now is neither the time nor the place, Zephyr Coral Praise. she chastised herself while she stared up at the man's eyes.  She had to admit, she had a thing for Klingons but this one... with his casual but confident attitude was working himself close quickly.

Deacon, behind them, began to speak and Zephyr sighed, she did not need attitude.  Really, no one did.  She looked over her shoulder at the Kzinti.  “It isn't as though I'm just having a chit chat, I'm trying to get them in on the plan without giving it away in the damned corridor or did you forget the part where there was a little discretion was necessary incase they were listening and monitoring our movements?” she said firmly and quickly.  She didn't care who the man was or how he had been raised she wasn't out to be rude, she was out to do her job.  The one that the First Officer back in the Ten Forward area had given to her.  “They were just telling me that we need to come up with a plan for Engineering and that they have found that while the weapons here hurt the holo officers they do not hurt us, so be unafraid as we go forward.” she stated, hoping it would soothe some of the worries of the officers in the corridor around her.  She was distracted by the fact that there was a message from Nerina given to Khorin that he seemed to understand all too well.

"Do'Ha' "growled Khorin when he heard the Commander's warning. Dozy and battered as he was after the brawl with Holo-Worf he didn't realize the ill tracking device that the combadge supposed. He looks to the newcomers group, Neko was bearing the weight of the quasi-human, who looked unfited on his own body. Surely he can't run, and would held up the whole group, making it easier to the Security team to catch them. He looked around and made a quick decision, reached Cross with a couple of long strides and teared off his badge. "Lead them to engineering, buddy, I'll buy you some time" A mischievous smile showed up in his face when he turned to face the Betazoid.

He tossed her Cross' badge and gave her a lengthy stare, his eyebrows deeply frowned over his eyes, assessing her fitness. "You look in good shape, surely you could chase me for a time" he couldn't prevent that his expression turned into a cocky smirk and, without waiting any answer, he ran away, the rifles and guns drumming against his broad shoulders.

Zeph reached up and caught the combadge that was tossed at her rather quickly with a look of surprise on her face.  She hadn't really expected anything to get tossed at her but she was glad that she hadn't lost all her training in the hell they had been put through since being on board.  Then she looked at the retreating figure of Khorin and grinned.  “I'll take that as a challenge.”

She took off at a run, glad for all the training she had been through.  Despite his long strides she was closing the distance between them she hoped to at least catch up though she had no doubts she wouldn't be able to pass him.  Sheer physics was against her with his longer strides.

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Khorin was written with Numen's input and permission.  Numen will continue this post with the next post of Khorin and Zephyr storming the Engineering section with everyone else!

[ Lt. JG Sinead O'Riley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sinead_O%27Riley#Personality_Profile) | Observation Pen ~ Cargo Hold 04 | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan, @Brutus, @Zenozine, @Masorin, @SummerDawn, @chXinya, @Absinthe, @steelphoenix, @Blue Zephyr, @YasyraTrill, @patches, @Fife & @Numen
[Show/Hide]Half an hour later, Sinead was reunited with a larger force of fellow captives. She felt her old fears, her reputation as the Grim Reaper, coined for her in the Dominion Wars on account of the fact that anyone assigned with her wound up dying, but she always survived. Would this hold true here? Would she be the sole survivor of this entire outing? She looked over at Lin Kae. The Bajoran's survival was absolutely vital, especially right now, at this very critical juncture. Commander Nerina was the closest they had to Captain at this point, so she was important too. Vital, even. Everyone was important. No one was expendable...

...except her.

Silvery-blue eyes tinged with a sense of resignation as she checked her artificial phaser rifle and side arm again. The plan in principle, was easy and to the point. But when had there ever been a simple plan that went off without a hitch? The primary objective was to get to the top of the warp core and overload the magnetic shielding with phaser fire. Of course there was also the matter of the holographic crew now attacking them. She looked down at her self in mild disinterest as a phaser beam went through her body. If this had been real, she would have gone down in a heap. She changed the settings on her weapon to maximum, enough to vapourize targets, and began to fire, even at the unconscious or previously dropped hostiles.

She walked calmly forward, picking her targets quickly and precisely. As long as she maintained her distance, she wouldn't need to worry about getting physical, and vapourizing the holographic officers made the most sense. If they only stunned them, they had a chance of coming back after a certain amount of time. It also reduced any potential future distractions. She didn't even hesitate to eliminate the familiar faces that she saw on this ship. These people were her first contact with the Federation. But they were only holograms, and her keen eye could see the minute hints or details that proved this to her. Besides, if they were real or organic, her weapon wouldn't harm them, which explained her reckless abandon. One holo-officer did manage to break through her assault, and she gracefully ducked the wild swing, kicked out with her leg behind his, and as he toppled, she vaped him.

“Yeh like this.” said her imaginary self, “yeh can deny it all yeh like, but I know th' truth.”

“Yeh be nothin' but a figment of my imagination,” said Sinead under her breath, “Yeh no be here, an' I be in control of me own mind.”

“Are yeh nowh?” said Ghostly, “Maybe that's what we like yeh think...”

That statement seemed odd to Sinead, and she had the sickening feeling that she might possibly be compromising the team just by being here. What if these Savi were watching everything through her? Controlling her actions? Her bare hands alone would be sufficient. She could go up to Nerina while her back was turned, reached out, applied just the right amount of pressure and snapped her neck. Or she gouged out Lin Kae's eyes, broke his leg and arms, and tore out his throat. All the most vital members to the crew here. She dashed forward towards the holographic folk, sliding on her knees at the last part, and fired a few more killing shots, erasing holograms from existence.

[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Khorin_Douglas)| Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Corridors ]
[Show/Hide]Att.: @Fife @Blue Zephyr @Zenozine @anyone else who want to get involved


Khorin panted heavily, running as fast as his legs allowed. It wasn't easy task, given the impedimenta he carried, the distance he had traveled and the unpleasant encounters he had faced until the current moment. In other circumstances, he should have felt irritated, even furious: a true warrior didn't flee from his enemies, least of all a bunch of badly designed holograms. But instead of that, the klingon was smiling, a proud laugh rumbling like a purr in his massive chest. On one of his shoulders, the phaser rifles that had swiped from the armory rattled, every minute that continued his crazed race they seemed heavier and sharper. Sitting on the other shoulder, Zeph fired the few holo-officers who were still following them, a weapon in each hand, maintaining an unsteady balance over him. Despite everything, the sound of her shooting behind him continued at a steady pace, as if the betazoid was practicing on a shooting range instead of riding a running klingon. The Lone Wolf smile widened even more. "Oh, what a day ... What a lovely day!" He uttered with glee.


The sound of gunfire ceased for a moment, and Khorin threw a sidelong gaze to the woman straddling him. "Hey, have you wipe out all the holo-dorks?" jested Douglas, almost sure of the answer. "Of course I have, do you know who you're talking to?" was Zeph's quick and arrogant response, as he expected. He let out a great belly laugh that resounded loudly in the corridor. [color=silver]"I'm talking to Lady Lukara in flesh and bone again, that's for sure!" [/color]He exclaimed, not caring about the almost sacrilegious nuance of the compliment. She had earned it, exceeding his expectations every time he challenged her. Not for the first time since he left Cross in front of the armory, he thought that perhaps he had died in his cockpit and had reached Sto'Vo'Kor: in the last hours he had not only got the body he had always wanted, full Klingon, but also had teamed up with another raging and foulmouthed warrior, had faced one of the heroes of his youth and had emerged victorious, he had known badass woman worthy to be up to himself and his crew fellos had started a riot that at that point could only escalated in a pitched battle. The forces were against them which only turned the fight into something more epic, worthy of being sung. Wasn't it the definition of the afterlife for the honored dead? However, he felt the beat of his heart in his chest, the burning in his lungs everytime he took a breath, the pain of the bruises on his face, the scratch of his chipped tooth in his gums, the weight of the woman and the weapons on his shoulders. He was alive, more than ever, and it was wonderful.


Focused as he was only on moving forward, he was about to pass the door of Cargo Hold 04, which opened in his path. Khorin took a couple of strides before stopping abruptly, which caused the betazoid to almost fell off her perch and clutched at the klingon's neck. "Easy missy!" He choked, almost suffocated by her hands and weapons. "I know I'm a hunky guy and you do not wanna let me escape, but I need to breath now and then" He added, amusement in her voice. Then he turned and trotted to the open door, finally entering the cargo bay.

---

Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai| Day 5 | 22:50 |Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Cargo Bay 04 ]



He advanced to the center of the room, his long strides full of pride and resolution. Once he reached his destination, he let Zeph off his shoulder, holding her hand and threw her a wink and cheeky grin before he drop the rifles he was carrying with a metal clang against the bulkplates. "Merry Christmas, fellow rioters!, Santa Khorin and his lovely elf just arrive with your presents" He shouted while straightened himself in all his height and stretching the muscles of his battered back. He cared little for the answers to his boasting, he had fulfilled his goal and he was as happy as he can be.


Soon, his partner in crime was requested by the Commander, and he saw her leave with a bittersweet expression in his ridged face. He had enjoyed their little adventure together, and he didn't know when something similar could happen again. But her skills were necessary to finish organizing the collapse of the holodeck, anyway he was going to miss her constant teasing and her bold nature. Handing a rifle to himself, he looked around, noticing for the first time that the group seemed to have increased in size since the disastrous meeting at Ten Forward. At least a small herd of Andorians had appeared from no-where, as well as a couple of men and a woman who were parleying with Nerina and, beyond, near where Cross was resting, all himself pursed lips and sour face resting against the wall, there was a familiar face...


"Nurse Vojona?" He asked, surprised to discover the Ovri woman among those present. Soon, the pilot reduced the distance that separated them in two pairs of long strides and placed himself beside her, confirming that it was Hylota. He remembered well how the nurse had helped him to recover from the severe injuries that had condemned him to the freezer, she had proved herself to be an honorable person and Khorin was glad to have her with him now that he wasn't crippled by pain. When he arrived at her position, he noticed that the nurse was protecting another shorter Ovri, one that, unlike her, possessed a striking blue skin and a distinctly feminine shapes. Having spoken about the peculiarities of her species, the former hybrid assumed that he was her brother. What he didn't expect was the strong impression that shook him when her pass medical carer stared at him. Those eyes. He had seen eyes like that not so long ago, before his Correction. The nurse's eyes were almost equal to those of their captors. His crooked grin died suddenly on his lips, while his brow furrowed and an ominous thought began to form in the back of his brain. He stopped a step away from her, looming over her with a frown, not knowing very well whether to give voice to his suspicions or not. The silence thickened uncomfortably between them for a moment until, finally, a saw-like grin showed up again on Khorin's face. In spite of everything, he recognized the calm demeanor of the woman, she wasn't one of his enemies, she couldn't be.The pilot scratched the side of the bearded jaw, which caused a small shower of dried blood. "I'm glad to see you here Hylota... well, no, not exactly HERE you know what i mean" It was then that he realized that the Ovri was not an hybrid, so the interest of their captors in her escaped the imagination of the klingon. This made him frown again, trying to think what kind of grotesque torture she had suffered. Also then he realized the dramatic change he himself had recently suffered "I'm Khorin, Khorin Douglas, do you remember me?"

[ Lt. Cross | Corridors | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ]

Cross had listened to the exchange between Khorin, Zephyr and the cats in silence, moving off a few steps to watch the corridor as words were exchanged. Then Khorin had strode up to him and taken his combadge, tossing it to the Betazoid before giving Cross instructions to escort the others to Engineering.

”Good luck.” Cross had muttered to the Klingon as the big oaf had taken off down the corridor, the Betazoid woman speeding off after him. With the Klingon’s departure, corridor had suddenly become much quieter. Loath as he was to admit it, he liked the Klingon. That fact did not stop him from taking a moment to enjoy the blissful silence left in the Klingon’s absence before he turned to the others and hefted his phaser rifle.

”Alright. If everyone is ready, we should get moving.”

---

[ Lt. Cross | Cargo Hold 4 | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ]

Almost half an hour later Cross and the others stood in cargo hold 4. They had met up with the Commander and the rest of the group from Ten Forward, and been joined by several others, including Shar from the Endeavour. Cross had not had time to speak to her with all the discussion going on around him, and he didn’t know the blue woman that well anyway. He contented himself to lean against the wall while with his arms crossed as he watched the interactions around him.

Then the doors to the cargo hold had slid open and a loud voice had proclaimed it was Christmas, that “Santa Khorin” had presents for them, and that his elf was lovely.

It was nice while it lasted… Cross thought, lamenting the increase in the room’s volume as the low buzz of conversation in the cargo bay was replaced by the drum-like booming of the Klingon’s prattling and boasting.

Cross moved and stood at the fringe of the ragtag group as they gathered together and “listened” as first Ensign Lin Kae and then Commander Nerina’s words were broadcast into his mind by a telepath. Cross had been distracted at first, wondering about his own newly acquired touch telepathy and how he could learn to use it properly. He focused his mind as the plan was explained. It was a simple plan as far as their initial assault went.

Storm Engineering. Supress resistance. Blow the core.

With the holograms unable to stop them with phasers, the assault shouldn’t be difficult. It was the following step that would be truly dangerous. The Theurgy’s crew had multiple objectives. Free the Theurgy’s Captain. Recover an AI core. Recover an Omega Device, whatever the hell that was. And lastly, recover a fighter craft.

All while avoiding being killed by a race that was obviously extremely advanced, and wasn’t overly concerned about their survival, given that they “recycled” anyone who presented an inconvenience.

This is going to be messy… Cross thought grimly, his thoughts cut short as the doors to the cargo hold hissed open and the klaxon began it’s wailing call. Cross pivoted and dropped to one knee, bringing his phaser rifle to his shoulder and firing at the security team that was attempting to storm the hold. Cross dropped a pair of the holograms before rising and following the Commander’s lead as they pressed towards their objective. He saw an auburn haired woman in yellow uniform calmly vaporize several holograms with her phaser before she charged forward and took out several more.

”PO Narelle, on me.” Cross barked, ”We’ll provide a rearguard and prevent and delays from that direction as the rest of you advance on Engineering, ma’am.” Cross told the Commander as PO Narelle gave him a nod of acknowledgement and hefted her rifle as she moved alongside him. The security team that had been attempting to storm the hold had been dealt with, but Cross had little doubt that they would have more company very soon now that their location had been discovered.

As the group moved out of the cargo hold and headed towards Engineering, Cross covered the hallway in the other direction. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a necessary action since the holograms were limited in their combat effectiveness. They could do little more than grab them and hold on. Cross covered their rear more out of habit than anything else. Another security team had begun to advance down the corridor Cross was watching, though they slowed their advance after the first of their number fell to Cross’ rifle. The rest took up firing positions and opened up, their beams having no effect on the Vulcan and Trill blocking their path.

Cross and the PO fired and moved in turns, always one firing as the other moved as they performed a fighting withdrawal. ”Covering!” Cross called as he dropped to one knee, sending several bolts of phaser fire downrange as the PO called “Moving!” and sprinted half a dozen steps past him before stopping behind him and dropping to one knee as she called “Covering!”. This process was repeated over and over, slowly moving them down the hallway and closer to the rest of the group while simultaneously holding up the security teams that were attempting to advance down the corridor. Using proper combat tactics seemed a bit much given that they were dealing with holograms, but their objective was to buy time for the others to gain access to the warp core, and holding up the security holograms would buy the others the time they would need. Cross also found he was enjoying himself, the repetitive actions of their tactical movement bringing back memories of the Dominion War and repelling boarding parties. Dealing with the holograms was a picnic compared to fighting the Jem’Hadar.

Cross grinned as a thought occurred to him. He rose to his feet and pulled one of the 3 hand phasers from his belt. He stood in the middle of the corridor and programmed the phaser to overload as the holograms continued their impotent volley of phaser fire. Once the phaser was set, Cross lobbed the overloading sidearm down the corridor towards the holograms. He turned and set out at a trot down the corridor to catch up with the rest of the group as he heard the alarmed cries of the security team, followed by the detonation of the phaser. Cross figured that might make the holograms more cautious in their advance, hopefully buying them a few minutes as he and the PO ran down the corridor in the direction of Engineering.

[ Lt. JG Hi'Jak (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Hi%27Jak) | Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-ship Versant | 2100hrs ] Attn: @Brutus
[Show/Hide]
Jack leaned back in his chair for a moment thinking over the interactions he had witnissed in hawthrone and his relationships with others. With the outsider information of the captain being an alien spy, and a parasite he could look back with a bit of a clearer lens than the ones he had prior to that point.

"She was a pawn. Personally, I think Hawthorne took pleasure in talking down to everyone. For the two years that I worked their my boss, Simon Walt, was a constant pain in my side, ignored his duties and filched my work constantly. So I was constantly involved in staff meetings, where for two years I was introduced at every meeting like the rest of the crew had forgotten my existence. In a way it was very helpful to my tasks, in another way... it showed me how little anything I did mattered." Jack shrugged.

"Dotnihl was Hawthorne's favourite because she was the least likely to fuck up, but Hawthorne was an ass. He played sections against one another, basically constantly raised the bar, and treated us like circle animals from the moment I got there. The Hawthorne I knew, was a jerk who constantly played favorites, and even among his favorites when something was out of order he would berate them. He had us all stressed out, and at wits end." Jack shook his head, "In the end the man played us all, focused on insecurities, and had everyone so focused on hating each other that we never once looked up. 84, had few recreational sites, no holo-deck, the only real thing you could do for pleasure there was drink, so I drank away."

Jack was glad that neither of his ears were damaged as he almost didn't pick up the question of recycling someone mid-beam, Jack thought about it and did some math in his head. "When we were taken aboard. we were held in those alteration cells, prepping for surgery. There was a young woman across from me, who was thrashing so hard she had ripped out the device that had been shoved down our throats, that were feeding us air, and other vitals, I think she was drowning on her own vomit. I got a front row seat to how it worked, the process seemed very chemical, solvents and bases injected into the fluids we were held in, recycling her into clean bio material which was then fed into the ship's system as a literal fuel source, not unlike the Federation's own waste management systems."

"If we look at that process, and then extrapolate, any recycling that would happen during a transport would be pointless, since you would extract less energy than you would gain in the initial transportation system. It's why Federation ships use GNDN* pipelines, and bio-jel filters to convert the 52 liters each crew man generates in waste into the solid and liquid components used by the ships replicators to reconstitute waste matter into that slice of cake you had last week." Jack's hand ran up a rather smooth forehead, then he leaned back in his chair, thinking it over.

"The Savi are unlikely to have built in a system that could recycle mid-transport because they - as a society - would probably have made their recycling process as quick and efficient as possible. Any step that would lessen the amount of matter to energy would be cut out. Most likely they would beam you to a waste management or recycling facility somewhere on the ship, and my guess is that the reason for it, is that the Savi are a species that put out less waste than they take in. If they were born on a world with a scarcity of resources they may have a metabolism that burns energy more slowly giving them a longer gestational period. Could also be from genetic tampering that seemed useful at the time but ended up causing unforeseen consequences."

His computer beeped as some of the progress bars finished, and he started looking at the small fractures in the program where more and more of the Savi programming code, like the language he had seen earlier with the email started to appear trying to fix it's self from the amount of processing power they had been using in the program. "And just like that, we found Waldo."


To a man with one eye, and one arm, going on a siege mission was a little unnerving. He could no longer handle a rifle, and he was left with just a hand phaser. He cranked out the weapon to max, but still felt various nervous at the idea of going on an all out attack.

More of the problem had been revealed when he had met up with the rest of the crew. ThanIda zh'Wann was alive, that was... great, just the best news he had all day. It seemed the blue bitch was much much harder to kill than he thought. It was fine, as much as he would have loved to get some closure on the past days events he knew now wasn't exactly the time or place. The two had managed to survive up till this point, and they would need that resilience if they wanted to survive the rest of this adventure.

Worst away mission ever.

Then there was Vinata, or rather, the creature he had sex with while on drugs. He could blame the drugs, but the truth was he had enjoyed that situation a lot, it had given him some much needed tension release, and if he was going to be completely honest, he would have done so even if Savi hadn't drugged him.

Then came the mention of the Omega Device. Jack had to hide his thoughts for a moment, he was still a touch embarrassed that he had been playing with a potential... actually he had no idea what it was. It was a grand mystery that he wanted to know more of. Like when he had first found the puzzle box and deemed it too complex to open he had a deep desire to know what was inside. What was Omega, and how was it contained in such a small box?

He wanted to know everything about it.

His scientific desires were cut off when the door opened, and the massive amount of panic and fighting started. Jack looked around hearing that they had to get to engineering, but with the amount of phaser fire, and other Federation bodies, even if the devices didn't work on them. Even if they were not real soldiers, he couldn't work through it.

Everything in his gut told him he needed to run, yet despite his common sense, Jack grit his teeth, and started to run towards the door.

The scientist cracked his elbow across one Ensign's face, panting as his reduced lung capacity seemingly made running harder, his one eye having to to double time as he tried to keep a wide field of view, but in the end, this was not a scenario where he could really perform. Once he was past the majority of security, he ducked down a much smaller, path.

He panted, and nearly fell on his face, but after catching his breath he started to make his way down to engineering, choosing to avoid conflict wherever possible, delaying his progress but keeping him as safe as possible. As he walked out into engineering he took shelter quickly behind a wall, pointed with his one arm, aiming with his one eye, and fired at the warp core.

it felt kind of insane to do so he tried his best not to think about it.

---

OOC: GNDN piping, The tubes used on the set of the original series often had GNDN written on them by the set designers, this stood for 'goes nowhere does nothing.' and became such an in joke that when DS9 set designers had to remake some of the USS Enterprise, they actually labeled the pipes GNDN so that it was visible onscreen.

Waste management and replicators: the information Jack talks about comes from page 146 of the Star Trek Next Generation Technical Manual. I've owned a copy since high school.

The metabolism is an educated guess at this point, made by some observations Jack has made about Savi society, and the recycling process as it is used.

[Ens Nathanial "Icarus" Isley (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Nathaniel_Isley,_callsign_"Icarus"&redirect=no) |  Observation Pen ~ Shuttle Bay | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E] @Triage  @Auctor Lucan
[Show/Hide]
Nerina, that was a vistage he hadn't seen in several life times. She was one of the original members of the crew, so she could have been an illusion, but the Nerina standing in front of him was a lot more fragile than the one he had seen back in a turbolift so long ago. A soft smile graced his features for a moment, it seemed the new plan that was coming together was more in line with his thought process.

Find the computer, and hit it with a big stick, the classic reboot.

Thirty minutes later and with everyone around them the plan to fight to engineering was a good one, and so much more fun than anything he could have wanted. He saw Ida was here, but honestly he had no desire to talk to her. She was no longer the white whale he could hunt, and every time he spoke to her he was reminded that they had little if anything in common.

Some part of him wished he had a weapon more physically violent in hand. There was a desire to test himself. His muscle strength had always been Vulcan, or rather Romulan in scale, but he wondered if the removal of his human genetics and the makeup that had been put over his body at birth did anything to weaken his potential.

Going into combat with a sword would have been almost comical, but he would have enjoyed it.

Instead when he waded into the forces of enemies at the door he did so not firing his weapons, he disliked shooting at living targets, even if it was needed at times if he could avoid the use of a phaser he would rather take an an enemy by hand.

And so by hand he went. As someone walked up to him, he brought his leg down on their knee shattering knee caps. for a moment the flinch and sickening crack, the scream that followed made Nathan pause. Why were holograms designed to feel pain? that just seemed needlessly complex to program.

Continuing his way, he was content to brawl and take out some stress on the bodies of these holograms as he traversed the path to engineering, though in all honesty he was more interested in the fight than the objective.

[ LtJr. Khelleshar sh'Zenne (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Kelleshar_sh%27Zenne)| Day 5  |Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Cargo Bay 04 ]
[Show/Hide]Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @Brutus  @Zenozine  @Masorin  @SummerDawn  @chXinya @Absinthe  @steelphoenix  @Blue Zephyr @YasyraTrill  @patches  @Fife  & @Triage



Shar was angry, more than she had been in a long time. And since that convulsive emotion was the fuel that guided and devastated her life in equal portions, say that could put in perspective the intensity of the emotion that overwhelmed her. She knew that the flame of that anger burned with force to hide other feelings with its burning heat: t the outrage of being a captive, subjected to the perverse experiments those Savi; shame for having comply the dictates of those monsters, even if she was subjugated by drugs and pheromones; shyness simply for stand side by side of her compatriots, after what happened in the observation pen; a feeling of betrayal when she had discovered the ill-fated starship from which the rest of the Andorians came from and the irritation against herself when she was aware that, in spite of everything, she felt bounded to them, even though she knew it was a misplaced feeling. She had thrown all that confused mess into the pyre of her fury, trying to turn it into something she knew how to handle, into something that would allow her to overlook the future ramifications of everything that had happened and what was to come. It wasn't time to evaluate consequences, it was not time to distrust others. Before, they had to get out of that hell and to do it, whether they wanted to or not, they needed to work together.



She gripped the rifle tightly and checked its settings once more, as she had done countless times during the last few minutes, repeating the gestures mechanically. Despite the fury that raged in her veins, even knowing that they would only face holograms and that her allies had reiterated several times that the phaser blast couldn't hurt the abductees, she didn't feel comfortable with  her weapon set at max level, ready to vaporize whatever is impacted with its shots. Since the Academy, she had tried to focus herself on repair and create things, not destroy them, but the current circumstances didn't leave her many options. Leaving stunned enemies behind didn't make any sense either.


She sighed lightly and closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on what they should do. "Charge against engineering room, eliminate any resistance, blow up the core" A straight forward plan. Without subtleties or contingency plans. Shar would have proposed a more subtle approach, something more complex than rampage the engineering room, weapons in hand. Something as simple as destabilize the mixture of matter and antimatter and voiding the core ejection insurance could cause a terminal chain reaction. She hadn't even had to use the front door, she could have come right next to the core through the tubes and no one would have found it strange. But of course, she wasn't an almighty engineer, just a mere operations spannermonkey, so no one would have listened to her even if they had arrived in time to come up with a less aggressive plan. Kelleshar exhaled again and clenched her teeth, her antennae firmly pressed against her skull. For a moment she almost wished that the Blue-Beast was there. In spite of her arrogance and know-it-all attitude, she knew how to handle herself in a situation like that, not only run forward blindly, shaking heavy weapons in front of them. But as was usual with her, she wasn't around when she was really needed and, probably, she would appear at the least opportune moment. A small part of Shar expected that she showed herself in any moment, despite how much she antagonized with the human, she didn't want found her dead. If her captors hadn't reduced her to a babbling mass without a brain, she would surely be causing problems and, for once, it was just what they needed. Mainly because the plan beyond escaping from the holodeck seemed to get more and more complicate for the Theurgy crew, but Shar wasn't interested in the least in their captain and that Thea, or on whatever this Omega Device  was or  even in the damn fighter. The andorian just wanted to get out of there alive and would do anything to achieve that. Even when a small voice inside of her head reminded her that she would probably follow blindly to her new kelthreh as soon as she open her eyes, but Shar tried to silence it as soon as it emerged. She didn't want to think about that now. She mustn't do it. Despite everything, she noticed how the heat rose to his cheeks in the form of a purple blush. And she hated herself for it.


The shen squeezed her slender hands over the weapon and opened her eyes, frowning again. The first thing he saw was Selh and Shall and, a little further on, the fierce Ida. Ever since they had appeared, naked and confused, in the shuttlebay of that fake Enterprise, she had barely separated from them, despite having discovered that they had deliberately concealed their ship of origin when Nerina stepped in front of them and tell the truth. She hated them for do it, not so much because they were part of a crew flagged as traitors, but because they had been able to deceive her. But given everything that had happened, it was too late to think about it, or feel offended. Even so it was another new log for the pyre of her fury. Beyond the andorians, and  against the wall, she could recognize the Chief Tactical Officer of her former starship. He seemed to have exchanged his ridged nose for slanted eyebrows and his attitude was even more somber than it had been in the scape-pod. Possibly he wasn't the best companion for her badly contained anger. Something further, she thought she recognized the romulan she had helped save from the Borg along with  LT. Cross, and even farther, among a group of feline crewmembers, she thought she could distinguish her counselor, R'Rory, but she could only recognize her uniform and ears, so she wasn't sure if that was her. Everything in that room seemed misplaced and wrongly shaped and Shar felt isolated, unable to fully trust anyone. “Just follow your instinct to stay together with your kind, grind your teeth and swallow your bitter doubts.” She sourly told herself.


Ida's shout brought her back to the real world, the holographic guards had managed to open the cargo bay doors and spilled inside like a frenzied rabble. Shar advanced to stand side by side with the zhen, supplying cover fire to the more accurate shots of the security officer. Without realizing it, Shar had fallen for the tactics learned in the Chekthora, that the other woman seemed to understand. The thonolanian shots were far from accurate, but the mass of enemies was so close that it was almost impossible to miss a shot. Shar concentrated on keeping pace with her partners, moving forward without pause, eyes searching for the core. There was the point where she could really take advantage of her knowledge, she knew where she should shoot to made the biggest harm. When he managed to cross the engineering doors, she decided to ignore the holo-officers and focus on what would really end the simulation.

[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Sarresh_Morali) | Observation Pen/USS Enterprise NCC 1701-E - Stellar Cartography | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn:
[Show/Hide]
Sarresh Morali learned two very important things in those moments there with Jack. The first was that he was personally pleased to have never, ever, lived on Starbase 84. Even without being a host to a parasite, it sounded like Hawthorne was a grade a jackass for a commander. At least Ives tried to bind his crew together. Hawthorne set them at each others throats. There was no way to know how long he had been infected, and how much of this was just his base personality. After all, the man was little more than Stardust at this point.

The second was that he should never, ever ask Jack a question about how something might work. The man showed off that he had earned his posting in the science department quite handedly. He knew his game, and was able to suss out the mechanics behind the recycling process with precision. Eerie, disgusting precision. Sarresh regretted asking, as Jack broke down everything that was needed for the process, and why using the transporters to recycle mid-transport would be a waste of time and energy.

"I suppose we can take some small comfort in the fact that turning us all to slush via the transporter is so inefficient that they'll just juice us after they remove us," Sarresh commented darkly. "It does give us that small window of time." Small windows of time, he thought to himself was all he really had left. Small windows of insight into the future he lost. Small moments with Sel. Yet again, he wondered how she fared. Was she worrying over him? Or too busy holding the ship together.

No time for that

Despite having just now decided that asking Jack for information was a hazard in his sanity, he couldn't help but pull a face and ask, "Whose Waldo?"

[30 MINUTES LATER | DAY 05 | 2300 hrs. | CARGO BAY 04 | USS ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-E PROGRAM]

Arriving with Jack in tow, Sarresh was able to watch as the man turned a nasty pale color. He'd just set eyes on a tall, striking Andorian woman, that looked vaguely familiar to the former Ash'reem. He was fairly certain that she came from the Theurgy and that he had seen her on the bridge before. Probably. Security, if memory served him right, though why she was here, when so far as he was aware, the Savi were only interested in 'correcting' half-breeds. Or genetic aberrations such as himself.

All the same, it was clear that between the mission briefing - which revealed a horribly concocted assault on Engineering with the hope that the resulting detonation would trigger a fail safe and free them from the illusion of the holoprogram  (relying on himself and Jack to help hack the system) - and the survival of the Andorian, Jack was in a foul mood. Sarresh found himself smirking for a just a moment, as he took the rifle he was offered. Almost, the time traveler had pointed out he wasn't a solider. But then, none to shortly after he'd been transformed into a human, he'd come under assault during the mutiny and discovered he had martial skills hitherto unbeknownst to himself. Since then, they'd lingered, in the back of his mind, a present from the Memory engram encoding he'd endured before returning to the 24th century.

Unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately - Sarresh had not seen Jacks reaction to the mention of the Omega Device. He was far too preoccupied with hiding his own shock and surprise. Not that he knew what the device was - he didn't per say - but for a moment, there was a sharp, biting pain in the back of his mind. And in that moment, he was certain, beyond a doubt, that he had once known what it meant, why it was important, and that there was a chance he'd know more, very, very soon. That programming of his was struggling to make up its mind as to if he should know more. How he knew that this was what was going on, was in fact something he did not know. He just knew.

It gave him a headache, which left him far more inclined to shoot the holograms as they poured into the Cargo Hold, and in turn, as the abductees poured right back out. Laying waste to a bunch of photons did a decent job of providing some stress relief. Perhaps he'd see if Sel might like to go do something similar on the holodeck. If they got out of this.

I'll get through this, he decided as he let out a guttural shout, driving the stock of his rifle into the face of a hologram that lunged at him. Short. Wiry. Redhead. Female. Trill. His mind cataloged it all as her nose crunched in and blood blossomed across her face, her mouth twisting into a scream of pain. But she wasn't real, so it didn't matter, and he pushed right on to the next. And the next. Face's swam across his vision, all in visages of rage or pain. All of them false. They didn't matter. They weren't real. Like shooting fish in a barrel he thought, ducking through the doors to Main Engineering and sending another engineering hologram flying over the safety railing by the warp core, for a long trip down. He just wished he remembered how he knew that very Human Idiom.

[Ens. Irashall “Shall” ch’Xinya | Day 05 | 2300 hrs. | Cargo Bay 04 | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E Program]

Shall still couldn’t shake the feeling of pure wrongness that permeated his entire being.  Part of it was from the rapidly shifting locales: one minute he’d been in an overheated cage with the others, each of them loaded with Uzaveh knows what that drove them beyond the bring, forcing a Shelthreth where none had been considered.  That was the other part of his uneasiness, pure instinct was already affecting their behavior.  Ever since appearing stark naked in some shuttlebay the four were inseparable.  Even now, a phaser in hand, Shall couldn’t help but to hover near Shar and Sehl.  Ida had somehow managed to get a portion of the crowd between herself and the other three, but it wasn’t much.

Shall’s antenna had buried itself into his hair at the first whisper of a thought that wasn’t his.  As the explanation pushed into his mind he could understand the reason for it, if the Savi were recording all of this they could easily counteract this little prison break before it got anywhere.  He still didn’t have to like it though.  Close combat like this wasn’t his forte, and the more he heard the more he wished he had his staff with him.  His thumb played with the settings out of nervousness, power setting went up, then down, then up again.

And then “security” came pouring in.  Since he wasn’t a combat officer, Shall’s first reflex was to duck behind a stack of cargo containers, phaser up and ready in case someone came around.  A quick glance showed that he was the only one of the four to have done so: Ida and Shar were right at the front of the pack, blasting away at the Enterprise’s crew with wild abandon, and Sehl was only a few steps behind.  The prisoners were far from a riot, those with the training and experience had quickly formed some sort of line and were pushing forward, with those behind them taking shots as they saw fit.  A few like the chan were in cover, but the sight of the “enemy” phaser beams passing through the combined crews without effect showed that such actions were needless.

Still, survival instinct could only fight paternal instinct so far.  Enterprise “crewmembers” were sprawled all over the deck as Nerina lead everyone out the door and into the corridor outside, but one hadn’t been completely stunned.  A Zakdorn managed to roll over enough to bring his phaser up, and it looked like it was pointed right at Sehl’s head.  Blue blood boiled as time slowed to a crawl, but then time snapped forward with the Zakdorn out cold.  Shall didn’t remember pressing the trigger, or even stepping out into the open, but there he was, looking down at the man.

Before too long the majority of the crowd had left the cargo bay and Shall followed, walking backwards and taking a potshot at anyone who stepped into the corridor, security or no.  Every so often he’d turn around to see how the others were doing.  Each time he saw three sets of blue antenna waving proudly in the air so they were all fine clearly.  A phaser lanced through someone standing just behind the chan while he was distracted, the bold one caught Shall’s answering beam in the shoulder and ducked back into a side corridor before Shall could see what species they were.

Main Engineering was only a few steps later, and from the sounds of it the holographic engineers were throwing everything they had at the mob, but it was to no avail.  Behind him, Shall could hear the chaotic, meaty thuds as some tried to fight with hands and feet (and any blunt object they might’ve had on hand), but with the safeties on it was no contest.  Engineering tools just bounced off of Theurgy/whatever crewmember’s bodies as if they were made from foam while holographic bones snapped under the returning barrage.  Having ended up in the rear Shall was the last one in, so as soon as the doors closed he passed his phaser off to someone else and yanked the control pad out of the wall and started playing around with the guts to lock it.

While he was occupied with the door, phasers started to sound more focused and before too long a new alarm started to blare.  Holographic crewmembers that were still conscious started to panic, and in the din Shall couldn’t hear what the computer was trying to say.  And then, everything went white…

[ K'Ren (http://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=K%27Ren) | Observation Pen | the Versant | Cargo Bay 4 | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ]
[Show/Hide]K'Ren had taken the rifle though her preference was the pistol she usually carried in her survival kit, long since lost to the vacuum of space so she had to make due with the rifle she was given. She was okay with the rifle, though okay merely meant she could pass the proficiency test, but not much better. The pistol was a different story, she scored high on her qualifications, part of that the drive that she knew her life would most likely depend on the pistol then a rifle given her profession. But she took it, at least knowing how to use it, and willing to make a good show of herself in ay event. The idea of having her memories wiped was unpleasant and she'd rather die then have the alternative done to her. Of course, she noted with a touch of sarcastic humor, she'd have no memory of her past so wouldn't care, wouldn't recall anything.

So it was in this cargo bay, gathered as they had earlier, that this lady called Nerina outlined her plan. It seemed sound on the surface, forcing the simulation to endure a catastrophic destruction would most likely trigger a shutdown or reset of the program. The challenge of course was just getting there. She'd spent enough time on her old ship at red alert and while she mostly spent it awaiting an order to launch, she'd had occasion to be near main engineering and it was usually swarming with security teams. That may also have just been her ship but she highly doubted it. It didn't take long tho for this gathering to have caught the attention of the security forces on the ship and almost the same time a cry came from a member of the gathering that security forces were approaching, she heard them, or more accurately heard their foot falls echoing on the deck plate.

Training kicked in and K'Ren soon found herself crouched near a cargo container, as little of her body exposed to the enemy forces, that's what they were after all despite the appearance of being friendlies, and holograms to boot so she didn't care. She wasn't sure if she'd actually drop one of them but the additional fire had to at least keep some heads down and give the better trained crew a chance to make some headway. And headway they did make, as the group broke out of the room and everyone, armed or not, made their way towards Main Engineering. It wasn't long before she found herself inside the cavernous bay that was main engineering, and the target of their endeavor. Staring up at the thing she knew this she couldn't miss, and as the rest cleaned out the room, K'Ren set her phaser rifle to maximum, aiming for the spot where she'd been instructed. Exactly what would happen in the next few seconds she didn't know, but like everyone else she was bound to find out.

(Apologies for a shorter post. Been insane at work and spent the last few days recovering from a family visit.)

[ Head Nurse Hylota Vojona & Nurse Vinata Vojona | Observation Pen | the Versant | Cargo Bay 4 | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: @Numen  @Fife 

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          Hyota took long even breaths, she had not wanted to come this far, she had been quite content to just sit back and hide out in Sickbay with her brother, she did not have the will to keep going at this, she was tired, uncomfortable on so many different levels, and she was barely holding on, her mind was abuzz with conflicting voices, each rambling off ideas, of how she could leave now, how she could hide with her brother and just wait for the others to finish this, how she should take up arms and let off her anger, hunting down anyone who crossed her path and making them suffer, making everyone suffer, making the universe suffer for what had been done to her. To have her few points of stability, constantly knocked out from under her, to have her life twisted with crisis after crisis, she was a wreck and she did not know how much longer she could hold herself together, if not for her brother she had no idea where she would be, he was the last anchor in her life, the last point keeping her sane any longer. Hylota rubbed her temple as she looked to her brother, the both of them were suffering silently. Their hidden change not clear to any outsider, no one could understand how undignified their change had been, sure the others had half their genetics stolen from them, but Hylota had her identity changed, her restraint stolen and she had been forced to rape...she felt sick at the thought, she did not want to deal with this, she did not have the time.

As Hylota heard a rather gruff voice she felt a chill run through her, the distinct tones of a Klingon voice having a drastic impact as the shared last name was stated. Both Hylota and Vinata looked to Khorin as he came over, their unfamiliarity with mammalian races was made all the worse when dealing with their fellow crewmen now no longer appearing as they once had, in truth Hylota was looking at Khorin with a pain stabbing in her heart, she could tell that this was not Maal, but the superficial similarities and her grief tried to say it was, tried to convince her she had not watched him die. For a moment Hylota felt as though she was on the verge of breaking down, until Khorin spoke more and finally grasped her confusion and explained who he was. To see her patient here as a full Klingon and to see that he was injured once more she could not help but smile weakly to him. "Likewise Khorin, I see you have gotten to embrace your Klingon side fully." Looking over her shoulder Hylota put her hands on Vinata's shoulders and encouraged him to come forward. "Allow me to introduce my brother Vinata. Vinata, this is Khorin, I assisted in his treatment after coming out of cryo."

Vinata allowed himself to be more forward, despite the situation he was handling the ordeal much better than his sister, in his hand he held a phaser, among the first items retrieved by the siblings when they had gotten into sickbay, Hylota had insisted on being armed, she refused to allow her brother to be defenseless once more. Looking up into Khorin's eyes Vinata nodded to him and smiled confidently. "Hello Sir, it is nice to see that my sister has not been such a shut in that she has made no friends with the crew." Hylota rolled her eyes at this and pushed Vinata lightly. "I am not some recluse brother." Vinata let out a chuckle and looked Khorin over. "You look to have seen quite a bit of combat as of late sir, my sister and I did make sure to bring medical supplies with us, we could help you easing any pain you might have."

Hylota listened to what her brother had to say and she looked Khorin over as well, inspecting his injuries and clicking her tongue. "Indeed, we could provide some aid to help you before we get too far into the fighting...in fact I feel that there might be an arrangement we could come out to. Seeing as how my brother and I are not combat trained, we are not as good in these kinds of situations, but we can offer support, we could work together as a party to raise our chances of success." Hylota gave a confident smile, her mind calming as she had a goal to work towards once more. "Now while you consider the offer allow us to give you a quick examination. In the meantime how about you get some quick stretches in. I want to check up on your mobility, see if the changes done to you have provided any added healing or if your body is still as it was before the genetic change." Work, it was a good distraction, a good way to get her mind off the stress of her life, it allowed Hylota a temporary out, and she was going to take it. Taking out a medical tricorder Hylota began to scan while her brother took other instruments and set about working on anything he could.

Vinata was working on Khorin's minor wounds with a dermal regenerator, seeing that the wounds were closed up properly before they began to get going, vigorous activity could end up making such wounds worse with the stretching and unintentional tearing of the flesh during the heat of combat. It was as they were busy with their work that the mental broadcast happened, it made the siblings stop cold as they tensed. The Ovri were not a telepathic race and lacked such adaptations, they also rarely dealt with races with such abilities, so the majority were not able to handle the sudden voices in their minds with much grace. As the briefing continued Hylota and Vinata kept at their work, resuming and working quickly to finish up Khorin's healing before they began to get under way, and no sooner had they finished when the doors came open and the fighting began. In the chaos Vinata quickly set about getting their medical kit packed away once more while Hylota took a more protective stance, staring down at the door as she pulled out her own phaser, pointed and fired, her beam steady as she gave a short burst of suppressing fire, her shot was surprisingly good for a nurse. As Hylota glared at the door a glint of rage appearing in her eyes as she scowled. With the kit packed up Vinata spoke up. "Just take the lead Mr.Douglas, we will be right behind you." The two siblings were prepared to move, their attitude made it clear that they had not picked up on any distrust, or were at the least acting as though they did not know anything was wrong, in truth Vinata had taken notice of Khorin's look, it was one several people had had after their arrival in the cargo hold, a look of distrust and suspicion, sadly it was not something Vinata could fix, and for the time being ignoring it was the best option.

[ Lt. R’Rori | A Road to Nowhere | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Precept-ship Versant ]

R’Rori gave the Klingon a curious look as s/he was handed a phaser rifle with the apparent expectation that s/he both willing and able to use it. The humanoid held it gingerly and apart from hirself until the rest finished talking and started setting off. With a sigh borne of exhaustion and suffering, s/he girded hirself for some sort of battle. It seemed there was no avoiding conflict for the pacifist, whether within or with others. With the first few steps, it finally registered that Cross had whispered a thanks for the words s/he had said earlier and it brought a small smile to hir face.

[ 30 minutes later | The Battle of Cargo Hold 4  | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E / Precept-ship Versant ]

The cat-eared human fidgeted with a phaser pistol s/he had swapped for instead of the rifle given to hir earlier while listening carefully to Nerina’s plan. S/he had known there would be a fight at some point. The pistol wasn’t a complete unknown to hir. Like any other officer, there were basic standards s/he had to meet for marksmanship and s/he had passed well. R’Rori simply had no appetite for armed combat, a personality trait that influenced hir path into a career that focused on healing the carnage wrought by the wars that the Federation found itself constantly embroiled in. The broken bodies and minds s/he met on Starbase 146 was enough to cement her pacifism.

S/he found hirself in a situation that would now test that. It was stretching hir beliefs to directly aid the others in taking part in this so far but could R’Rori bring hirself to shoot even the holographs that they would undoubtedly attempt to stop the surviving members of Starfleet from taking over Engineering?

It wasn’t long before the klaxon sounded and the holographic Security officers began an assault on the cargo hold. The phaser rifles they wielded were clearly totally ineffective against the living, the bolts passing harmlessly through them, including a stray that went through R’Rori hirself. S/he stood there, numb and frozen with indecision. S/he noticed movement at the corner of her vision. Taking the opportunity to distract hirself, s/he saw K’Ren crouched behind a cargo crate. R’Rori almost collapsed down next to her, dejectedly tossing hir pistol to the pilot’s side.

“I can’t fight. The screams are too real, even if it’s simulated.” The counselor muttered. “I swore to myself that I wouldn’t use a weapon. Even with the Borg, I just ran. I heal. That’s all I want to do. I don’t fight. I can’t hurt them.”

Hir silver eyes searched around the hold as people began emptying out. The initial assault had failed and now the motley surviving crew of at least three different ships were going to Engineering. A passing crewman in Security red patted hir on the shower and urged hir to follow. It was with some apparent effort that R’Rori pushed hirself back up and joined the crowd to Engineering, losing hirself in the maelstrom now engulfing the beating heart of the Enterprise. Whatever happened next would be illuminating, s/he mused to hirself as s/he found hirself standing near a console some distance away from the doors and the core.

“Well, at least if we die, it’ll be with the knowledge that we tried something.” R’Rori whispered to hirself.

[ Deacon | Observation Pen | the Versant | Cargo Bay 4 | USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: Everyone whose anyone

Deacon found the rifle he'd been given less than useful.  A club would be more effective in his hands given the threat of combat that loomed.  However, the rifle did afford him an opportunity, housed as they were in the depths of the cargo bay.  With some assistance, he had managed to find a setting that allowed him to carve narrow strips of graphene from some of the larger containers.  The two longest would serve as swords -- if he was to be effective in combat, he would need to adapt the battlefield to accommodate the manner in which he was taught, such as it was.  Several smaller strips were fused together with small trilithium pellets courtesy of some corner deck plating.  These would be useful for throwing, the weight giving sufficient momentum to improve their lethal potential.

As he worked, he mumbled to himself, a never ending barrage at the tendency of the monkeys to take things at face value, to do the expected, to veer away from the extremes in favor of the comfortable.  That was not his way.  That would not be his way.  Ives was here in this hell, as was Thea.  His motivation to effect suffering upon these so-called Savi doubled.  Bad enough that they should transgress against his mate... their unborn children... but his patriarch?  And Thea... well, she was another difficult matter that he could scarcely wrap his thoughts around.  She was a thing, an artificial construct, but she was among the first to treat him with respect on the ship, to give him an opportunity, a purpose... and when he was sick, she was the one who came to him.  She was...

He paused, looking at the pile of sharpened blades laying on the ground before him.  She was his friend.  He was not going to allow them to keep her... or Ives... or K'Ren...

Taking a deep breath, he looked to his mate.  He wanted to hold her, to lose himself in her, to pretend none of this was real and that they would open their eyes and find themselves locked in each others arms in his quarters.  The numbing in his head was already starting to wear away, in part from his own drive and stress as he worked to shape his own instruments of vengeance, part he suspected from the fundamental transience of this place and its contents.  When all things were considered, it was perhaps little more than a placebo he'd wanted to help him.

Standing, he gathered his materials, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand -- another monkey feature that he would be well rid of, but still a matter for another time.  Swords, knives... these things may well fade with the rest of this ill-forged program, but for now, they felt real enough.

Taking his rifle from the ground last, he strode purposefully towards the klingon, Khorin, who was among those humanoid faces that still managed to stand out to some degree or another.  He placed a parcel of blades into the klingon's hand, suspecting he would find a certain amount of satisfaction in their use even if they were substantially less than a bat'leth or even a mek'leth.  He then handed the rifle to him, leaning close to his ear, his eyes darting towards the door as he spoke a single word, tapping the rifle with a free hand.  "Overload."

As he turned, he gave pause at the site of the two ovri, one of whom he recognized as the nurse that had questioned him following his surgery days previous.  He could not tell if the recognition was mutual and truth be told, he didn't want to swallow any further embarrassment regarding his looks now.  Now he needed to focus; all else was incidental.

[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Khorin_Douglas)| Day 5 | Observation Pen | Precept-Ship Versant/ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E | Cargo Bay 4 ]
[Show/Hide]Attn: @Auctor Lucan  @Brutus  @Zenozine  @Masorin  @SummerDawn  @chXinya @Absinthe  @steelphoenix  @Blue Zephyr @YasyraTrill  @patches  @Fife  & @Triage


When Hylota pointed out that he had finally embraced his Klingon blood, Khorin puffed out his chest, full of pride, sharing with her a chipped tooth grin, pleased with himself and what he's become. The pilot had longed all his life to be what he was at that moment, and while that didn't discredit the outrage that had been his capture and the experimentation he had suffered under the hands of the Savi, possibly he had embraced the change with more enthusiasm that any of those present, and couldn't hide it. However, he didn't have much time to go deeper into that feeling, since the nurse soon introduced her brother, Vinata, into the conversation. In vivid contrast with the somehow sinewy and dull-colored figure of the female Ovri, the male showed a striking tone of blue and ocher skin, and a more voluptuous and slender figure, than that of his sister, giving him a much more fragile appearance. Even looking that weak in the klingon's eyes, Vinata showed a determined expression and held firmness his hand phaser, as if beneath that apparent delicacy reside a fierce warrior. Khorin shook his head and chuckled, incredulous. The amphibian race didn't stop surprising him.


As soon as the tease between both Ovri siblings began, it brought to his mind the kind of relationship that was habitual among the brothers or brother and sister, so different from the one he had with his half-brother. Klingon to the core, savage and violent, Gorka had made it clear from the start that he didn't consider Khorin his equal, and had put all possible means to not let the former hybrid reach adulthood. For a moment, the Lone Wolf tried to imagine what his life would have been like if his brother's animosity against him had been left only in words, if the eldest of Margon's children had shown that instinct of protection that Hylota showed towards his brother. Possibly he wouldn't be who he was at that moment, and would never have joined Starfleet. However, the lucubrations about it were useless and kept his mind away from what really mattered: the battle that was coming.


Therefore, when Hylota offered to heal his wounds, Khorin only hesitated for a moment, frowning. "I own the body of a warrior now, I don't any need care" He snarled, but despite the surly phrase, he sat on the floor and let the nurses do their work, repeating with Hylota the stretches that had learned in the Theurgy's sickbay. Even if only a few days had passed since the learned them, the events made it seem like it had happened in another life. By any way, soon the dermal regenerator and the attentions of the Ovri eliminated any trace of bruises or pain that remained in his body.

Khorin stood up, his strength completely renewed, shortly before the quasi-human approached where he was, carrying in his hands a parcel of blades with a bloodthirsty appearance.The klingon hefted the weapons and, while crude and coarse-looking, found them well-balanced and with a razor-sharp edge. "Worthy weapons for a warrior, I thank you for this, from a warrior to his peer" he proclaimed loudly, appreciating the present. He wasn't sure what had been the human with feline tail and murderous eyes before his Correction, but it was clear that he was a fighter, someone well trained in the arts of war. The Lone Wolf nodded to the human's plan, instantly understanding his intention, and offered it to wicked grin as an answer. However, there was no time to exchange more words, as the voice of one of the Andorians drew everyone's attention to the doors of cargo bay.


The security team had managed to break through the door and enter the warehouse like an unstoppable tide. Khorin turned to the Ovri and shouted "Follow me!", then he tried to look into Zeph eyes. His gaze intertwined with the one of the betazoid for a moment, and he let a phrase slip through their minds, hoping that it reach its destination. ~ bomDI' 'IwwIjqaqaw.~ Before he could receive an answer to his bold statement, the Klingon broke the contact and looked back at the doors.


Without much thought, the Lone Wolf threw back his arm and threw the overloaded weapon against the roaring mass of enemies. An instant later, the rifle exploded, a blinding sphere of smoke and shrapnel, which hindered the opening. The cries of pain that followed the explosion were music in the ears of Margon's son, who charged forward without waiting a moment longer, the longest handmade blade in right fist, one of the shortest in the other.


When the smoke hadn't yet cleared, Khorin was met with the first scuffle, a couple of holograms came up to him, receiving him with useless phaser shots. The klingon stretched out a furious thrust with his right hand, which hit one of his opponents in the throat, throwing a bow of fake blood to the back wall. The other officer, seeing his companion fall, threw his useless weapon against the Klingon's head. Khorin dodged the sudden attack, but that left him at the mercy of a cruel kick in the ribs. He grunted in surprise when the blow fit, but quickly slashed with the short weapon, looking for the side of his adversary. The hologram interposed his left arm, sacrificing the limb to save his life, as he approached his adversary and threw a punch against his face. Khorin stopped the hit with his longest blade in the path of the blow, cutting off the limb and then deftly turning the blade and embedding it in the eye of the security officer. The agonizing enemy tangled the sword, allowing time for the bulk of his enemies to reach their position.


Soon a rain of blows, useless shots of phaser, kicking and shoving began to fall on the Klingon, who received them with a defiant laugh, bloodlust wildly running in his veins. The holograms weren't aware of the kind of headstrong they faced. The scuffle continued for a few minutes, until finally Khorin emerged from the melee, his blood and that of his enemies bathed him completely, the blades of his weapons soaked in blood of various colours. However, he barely had time to shout his victory, as a group of reinforcements came up against him. The determination of the Klingon was such that enemy after enemy fell under their cuts and thrusts. Blood flowed through its blades until it shedded over his hand and elbow like a river. Drops of splashes stained his face and, at some point, some of the holograms had hurt him in the side, where a large dark spot began to spread, soaking his uniform. Nevertheless, the klingon remained firm, moving forward without pause, ready to be the first to cross the gates.


Suddenly, a hologram approached him from behind, trying to immobilize him. Khorin bellowed in anger, struggling to free himself, as he watched as a circle of enemies closed ominously around him. In a flicker of the warning lights, he managed to free one of his arms, and turned violently dragging his captors towards the clinging edge of his blade. Surrounded and almost surpassed by his enemies, his heart beating a war song in his eardrums, Khorin felt that he was on the edge between life and death, where any false move could be lethal. But that was why the Klingons lived, that exact moment toward which all the teachings of their culture were directed. Not caring anymore to reach the engineering room, destroy the core or use the rifle hanging uselessly from his bloody shoulder, Khorin laughed, enjoying that moment that could be his last, before he was buried again by a shapeless mass of enemies.

[ Lahkesis Saugn | 10 Forward - Hallway outside 10 Forward | "USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E" | Precept-ship Versant ]
[Show/Hide]
Far away from the action...

The world seemed to shift between realities in the mind Lahkesis's mind. The ship was right and wrong, everything was as it should be, and yet every detail was invariably incorrect. She pulled herself to her feet and looked down at the puddle of her vomit, it was not there. She could still feel it in her throat and mouth and yet it was gone.

Had she thrown up?

She suddenly could not be certain.

It was just one more thing she could not be certain of. The list kept adding up. She was still all but certain of her name and who and what she was, but even that was fragmenting in her mind. She felt as if she were losing more and more of herself. As if the details around her and of her were being stripped away and she was being left a husk.

Her already pale skin had taken on a more sallow complexion as she staggered away, moving toward the door. She had to get out, had to get her feet on ground she knew. She spun on her heel and looked around as she stepped from the lounge and into the hallway.

And there he was, standing in a white wrap around kimono-like shirt and loose pants. His blind eyes looked directly at her as she stopped short before him. She found herself once more ensnared by him as if in his presence the rest of the world mattered not.

"The lamb, lost in the woods, seeks out a shelter from the coming storm," he said quietly, his voice sounding like it was coming over some ancient intercom system.

"Master..." she breathed her tone pleading.

"The wolves come, to ripe the flesh, to taste the blood," the man went on, seemingly unaware of her.

"Please..." she began to weep, sugary tears seeping from her eyes and over her cheeks.

"The lamb may run, the lamb may hide," the man continued, his voice seeming to draw closer, though neither moved and the faint buzz of the ancient intercom remained.

"I can't..." she said as she slowly sunk to her knees before him, her world seeming to turn to liquid and slide away from her.

"But the wolves will come," the man said and fell silent.

Lahkesis buried her face in her hands. She felt as if she were in agony. She wanted to not be alone, yet she could not seem to remember who she wanted to be with. She could not remember who would make her feel safe. She could remember there was someone, but there felt like they were so very far away. And she was trapped. She was in a prison. She could feel the walls closing in around her, the bars pressing into her skin.

She was on display for them, and she could all but feel their eyes on her. Her uniform hid her naught, and she was exposed in every way she could be. The whole of her body and mind laid bare before those nightmarish eyes.

She looked up and the blind man was gone. She was alone in the hallway once more, on her knees.

She got to her feet and looked around, blinking away her tears.

Like a jolt, she remembered something.

She was in the wrong place. She needed to be on a different ship, with a different crew. She had to get back to them.

Somehow...

[ Lieutenant ThanIda zh'Wann (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=ThanIda_zh%27Wann) | Observation Pen ~ Cargo Hold 04 | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: All
[Show/Hide]The indignation Ida had suffered fuelled her rage, squarely directed towards these 'Savi' captors, and by extension, their shelat program. Had they truly expected them to be docile? When they had distorted their bodies, subjected them to experiments without consent, and liquefied their fellow crewmembers alive? Had they thought they'd go quietly into oblivion, loosing their memories, in this holographic representation of a well-known Federation ship? A program which was supposed to make them behave, and conform to false, pointless duties? Did they think they were mindless cattle?

No. Ida would not go quietly into the night.

Years of training, with skills honed by ceaseless repetition was the conduit of her cold fury. As awkward as the company of the other three Andorians had become for her, none of it was at the forefront of her mind. She did not waste any pleasantries towards the Corrected, since she wasn't sure she recognised them, didn't see who they used to be. No, with deft motions, her rifle raised and eyes along the sights, she moved with brisk efficiency. She vaporised the images of Starfleet officers without compunction, with no pause to her motions. With a murderous pace, she made for engineering alongside two of the Andorians, Shar and Sehl, with Shall further behind in the mob of abductees.

When she entered Engineering, three holograms ganged up on her, grabbing her rifle and trying to push her to the deck. Ida's face twisted into a mask of her rage. The first one got an elbow to his temple, followed by a kick that bent his leg at an unnatural angle. The second one got his teeth and jaw shattered by the stock of her rifle. The third one doubled over from getting the barrel rammed into his gut, before the phaser barrage tore him in two. Without missing a beat in the deadly dance, Ida's antennae and blue eyes rose to the top of the warp core...

...and she opened fire, her teeth bared in as the rapid stream of phaser bolts tore into it.

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OOC: More posts to come here today from Devyrie Okhala and Lin Kae, along with the outcome of this assault on the program. Stay tuned!

[ Devyrie "Dragon" Okhala (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Devyrie_Okhala,_callsign_%27%27Dragon%27%27) | Observation Pen ~ Cargo Hold 04 | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: All
[Show/Hide]The Okhala sisters were also in the throng of abductees that fought for their freedom, and Devyrie found the words of their Tal'Shiar father resounding in her mind when they smote the holograms that came in their path.

Mindset, child. Many will learn to use a weapon, or study a martial art, but their skills decline quickly because they fail to practice every day. Having the proper mindset means being a stalwart practitioner, determined, never cutting corners and taking every precaution to ensure survival. The words of Aurum Okhala reminded Devyrie how she had failed to hone the skills he'd taught her before the Academy, resorting to the practices of Starfleet when it came to ground combat. Thus, with her hand phaser in a double-handed grip, moving forth with bent knees, Dev picked off holographic security guards that lounged for her and Laurel, the two sisters moving as one in alternating defence angles. They were both pilots in their own right, and together, they were wingmates in an assault without wings.

From her blind spot, a guard struck for her with his fist, catching her across the cheekbone. The vertigo and shock almost made Deyrie fall, yet her father's voice was with her, despite how they were hundreds of light-years apart. In a combat situation, having the proper mindset means being prepared to act without hesitation, and never quitting during the fight, regardless of fear or pain.

With a snarl, her green eyes flashing, she rounded on the guard. Before her long Alpha Centauri braids had settled, she had dealt the man a backhand strike with the handle of her phaser. Without pause, she had vaporised the offender and moved on, covering her sister again.

What the...? That was when she saw the commotion ahead in the corridor, where a fellow Lone Wolf fell under a group of holograms - bringing the Klingon down to the deck. Hardtop had been overpowered, and the instincts in flying in a wolf squadron kicked in, making her run to aid him. She tapped Laurel's shoulder with the back of her free hand, gesturing for her to cover her before she moved to the heap of writhing bodies. With quick motions, she changed the setting of her hand phaser to wide dispersal, and picked the maximum setting. Then, she laid blanket fire unto the holograms and the deck, the wide beams lighting up the corridor in psuedo-lethal brilliance. Each time she squeezed the trigger, her weapon ate away on the holograms and the corridor alike, until she uncovered Khorin Douglas at last. He was covered in blood, but Devyrie surmised it wasn't likely his own, since he'd joined the fray with a melee weapon. As for her hand phaser, it was spent, so she tossed it away.

"A wolf is nothing without its pack," she said, extending her hand to pull the large Klingon back on his feet, those words a mantra from Tac CONN graduation, "and a pack is nothing without the wolf."

Saying this, Devyrie's eyes lifted, and made eye-contact with...

...her eyes widened, being face-to-face with her rapist. The Ovri.

She took a step backwards and drew her second hand phaser, swallowing, but reminded herself... that it wasn't the Ovri's fault. Nonetheless, she left both the two Ovri and Hardtop behind. "Stay away from me," was all she snarled to the tan-coloured alien, waving for Laurel to follow her. The fully Romulan sister did, but looked at the Ovri with great consternation, before catching up with her white-haired Human sister.

Soon enough, they also emerged into Engineering on the Enterprise, and as one, the Okhala sisters raised their hand phasers and fired against the top of the warp core.

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OOC: Two out of three posts down. One more to go! If you guys have anything more to add to the scene before it ends, now is the time. :)

[ Ensign Lin Kae (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Lin_Kae) | Observation Pen ~ Cargo Hold 04 | The Versant ~ USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E ] Attn: All
[Show/Hide]Because of what he had done, before he was put in stasis, Ensign Lin Kae had every right to being as determined as he was. He had betrayed Thea, her crew, and the mission at the Black Opal, and even if he couldn't remember his reasons, the facts of his actions remained. Yet so did his current action remain as well, when he, as a holographic specialist without any greater combat experience, his body inferior to his mind, pushed forth, and arrived in Engineering.

Several other abductees were already firing against the warp core. Lin Kae could see Geordi La Forge mounting a defence line, shouting that they had to eject the core, but to no avail. Lin Kae ground his teeth together, tears in his eyes, and lifted his hand phaser, squeezing the trigger repeatedly. He cried out, in a mix of self-hate and need for redemption...

...when the containment fields finally yielded. It was impossible to actually see the antimatter when it scattered, the warp core detonation instantaneous in unbridled matter-antimatter reaction. The entire Enterprise was torn apart within a second.

[ Undenary Observation Pen | Main Research Hull | The Versant ]

And then, all the abductees stood in a large room, the dim-lit Observation Pen in which most had found themselves before the Enterprise program started. A vast, featureless deck, bulkheads without doors, with only the deckhead owning any kind of features. Holo-emitters, and hatches where inoculation cannons could emerge. There was not a shred of cloth inside the Pen, since all their clothing had been holographic, and the replicated gown had been long since discarded. The ominous lighting and all the bare skin... it was a nightmarish play of shadows, cast across faces suddenly bereft of courage.

"O'Riley! Hi'Jak! To me! I'm here!" Lin Kae called out into the darkness, needing the other holodeck expert present and the one who had derived the basics of Savi programming language. Eyes wild, Kae pointed towards two other officers, a Klingon and a tall human with a tail, likely the result an incomplete Correction. "You two, lift me up to the deckhead. Right over here, now! Hurry!"

Yet no more had he said it... before an imposing, shimmering image of a Savi's head and chest appeared on one side of the large area. For some, it was the first time they laid eyes on one of them, and this particular one was the same that had spoken to them before the Enterprise simulation began. The partial image of the alien stretched from the deck to the deckhead, and when he folded his arms across his chest, the shifting lights were cast across the whole pen.

[Specimens, this is the Voice of the Savi. You have disrupted your humane containment, choosing to not conform to the process in a peaceful manner. You were warned about the consequences of such actions,] said the captor, his large, black eyes staring indifferently upon them all. Lin Kae had only cast a brief glance towards the towering figure of the magnified alien, before he shouted again, feeling like the window of opportunity was about to close soon.

"Hurry!" he called, fumbling as he tried to climb on top of the two large males he had asked for help. Eventually, he managed to reach one of the emitters, his fingernails tracing the edge while he tried to keep his balance. The holo-projection continued to speak.

[At another time, you would have been given further options, your health paramount for the memory treatment and release. Yet as of ten minutes ago, your conformity has been rendered a moot point.] The Savi paused, uncrossed his arms, and seemed to be entering commands into his datapad while he spoke. [The High Council has evaluated a motion regarding the Versant's need for repairs, where it has been argued that this need surpass the importance of the Correction Program and all the current projects in our Biolabs. Since your biomatter will sustain the Versant during its expedited repairs, the final decision has been made.]

Heart racing in his chest, Lin Kae finally managed to pry one emitter loose, his fingers bleeding and hurting. With shaking hands, he cradled it in his palms, and cast his eyes about for Hi'Jak and O'Riley. His eyes were wide in the dim light, and he almost lost his balance. The mounting dread in the pen could be heard, the bare humanoids suspecting what was to become of them. Lin Kae had to shout to override the terror. "There is no interface! I can't open it!"

[In spite of the Code and how it dictates your release, you will all be Recycled instead.]

"Do something!" called Nerina, standing not far off, flanked by ThanIda zh'Wann and other officers. Yet Lin Kae couln't access the emitter, much less the housing in the ceiling. It was designed to prevent any tampering. He was panicking, dropping the emitter from fingers slick with blood.

[This is Echtand qi Versant, and on behalf of all Savi, we apologise for not being able to release you as intended. Please remain calm, and know that your biomatter is valuble to us. You will aid in our continued research, and your names will be added to our Archive.]

Thea... I'm sorry. I couldn't....

And then, the dim pen brightened in aquamarine light - engulfing them all as they were transported.

[ Commander Nerina (https://uss-theurgy.com/w/index.php?title=Nerina) | Undenary Observation Pen | Main Research Hull | The Versant ] Attn: All
[Show/Hide]Her brown eyes casting about, Nerina found that she was in the middle of a throng of bare bodies, all of them cramped close together. The panick that had begun in the Observation Pen continued now, only there was no space to move for the abductees. This isn't happening! No, no, no...

The new area was smaller, and dominated by a massive pad, upon which they all stood. Those near the edges tried to step off, but they were stopped by a forcefield. Nerina tried to keep calm, to see some kind of means to leave, a hand-hold, anything, but she couldn't see anything because of all the bare skin around her. The pad below their bare feet glimmered slightly as it came to life with a undertone of a cool blue colour, emanating from underneath the pad. There was a sound, and the level of panic rose, everyone present knowing what was about to happen.

Outside the forcefield, something moved in the shadows. It was not one of the regular Savi. This one was larger, insect-like, and the soft light of the pad caught its chitin-like protrusions and mandibles. It had three legs, a pale exoskeleton, and four eyes. It looked at the mass of bodies on the pad that tried to get out without a hint of empathy. The thing - this abomination - made an alien sound, and two regular Savi walked to a control panel. At that time, Nerina couldn't hear anything over all the screaming. One thought stayed with her in her animal reaction to her imminent death, and it was how she had failed them all.

Among the thrashing bodies, she met the eyes of ThanIda zh'Wann, resignation in the Andorian's steady gaze. She saw Devyrie Okhala trying to comfort her sister, hugging her close. The Ovri siblings could be seen in the throng because of their differing skin colour. The other Andorians stood out as well, and the felnoids with their ears or tails. The blue light rose from the pad, and Nerina couldn't help the thickness in her throat. She shook her head, as if in denial. i'm so sorry...

The cacophony of screams rose, and there was some kind of wet dust circling in the air. A swirling cloud. At this point of pain-exposure, Nerina was beyond understanding it, how the platform took the top layer of their being. As the light went deeper, and the cloud became denser, they were all disappearing.

Eventually, the cloud rose to a buffer, and the Recycling was complete.

- FIN

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OOC: This is the end of Chapter 02. Surviving characters can be found in this continuation: Prologue: Insurgency (https://uss-theurgy.com/forum/index.php/topic,2412.0.html)