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Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

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



If we are allowed to do experiments on monkeys because we are superior to them in a certain way,
then someone who is superior to me is allowed to do experiments on me.
- Yuval Noah Harari

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)

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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, 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)

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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, 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 and Caitian genealogy respectively before they underwent Correction. The male 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 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, 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, 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, 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 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 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, 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!

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #1
[Ens Nathanial "Icarus" Isley |  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 | 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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #2
[ 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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #3
[ PWO Heather McMillan | Biolabs | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan
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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.



[ Lt. JG Sinead O'Riley | Biolabs | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan
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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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #4
[ 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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #5
[ K'Ren | 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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #6
[ 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…

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #7
Hylota & Vinata Vojona | Biolabs | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan
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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".

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #8
[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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #9
[ 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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #10
[ Lt.JG Khorin Douglas | Septenary Correctional Lab | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ]
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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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #11
[ Devyrie "Dragon" Okhala | Septenary Correctional Lab | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: 1) @Brutus 2) @Blue Zephyr
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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. :)

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #12
[ Lt (jg) Sarresh Morali | Octonary Correctional Lab | Main Research Hull | Precept-ship Versant ] Attn: @Auctor Lucan 
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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!!

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #13
[LCdr Blue Tiran | Survivor Time |  Giving Up Not an Option | USS Suckfest]
@YasyraTrill @patches @Fife @Numen



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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #14
[ 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....



Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #15
[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...


Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #16
[ Lt. JG Hi'Jak | 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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #17
[ K'Ren | 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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #18
[Ens Nathanial "Icarus" Isley | 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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #19
[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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #20
[ 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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #21
[ 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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #22
[ 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??

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #23
[ K'Ren | 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.

Re: Chapter 02: The Versant [ Day 03 | 2100 hrs. ]

Reply #24
[ Lt (jg) 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.

 
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