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41
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle
Last post by TWilkins -
[ Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth | Bridge Access Corridor | Deck One | Vector One | USS Theurgy ]
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Lurching violently to the side, a shallow gasp pushing out through his lips, Sylvain braced himself against the edge of the turbolift, a wince harshly playing on his features. They’d known that the battle was coming; he’d known that the battle was coming. Yet no amount of preparation could have braced the Ensign for how sudden and violent that first impact would be, how quickly a red alert could turn into an overloading conduit, how difficult something as simple as walking out of a turbolift could become… This was no skirmish with Talarian fringe elements, scrapping over a few tonnes of stolen food, it was the full might of a Romulan assault force, fighting to ensure the end of the galaxy.

And he had just been commanded, for the first time, to take the CONN.

He’d received the summons only a few moments before the battle had erupted around them, the ship’s computer, Thea, informing him that he was needed on the Bridge immediately. It seemed that their relief pilot was currently manning the CONN, a Caitian who mostly operated the graveyard shift, and since both of the Assistant Chiefs responsible for the helm were otherwise indisposed, it was suddenly Sylvain’s responsibility to take control. It was his job, he supposed… But given that he’d never even been on the Theurgy’s bridge before, much less flown it, nor any ship of equivalent size, and that he hadn’t even seen a battle of this magnitude, not outside of an Academy simulation, he couldn’t help but feel that the terror he was feeling at the prospect was at least somewhat justified.

As inappropriate a thought as it was, Sylvain was sincerely hoping that this officer Sh'ow was actually just a terrible pilot, and that that was the source of the increasingly violent jolts that kept threatening to throw the Ensign off of his feet. If not, Sylvain was about to walk into a nightmare.

It had been barely five hours since he’d stepped off of the Erudite, leaving that particular miasma of anxiety behind him, with Cora’s PDA and the egregious amount of classified, and stolen, Savi data it held, secreted within his pack, and now he had stepped into yet another maelstrom of violence. He’d not had a chance to stop. He had returned to his quarters no longer than a moment before the communication came that all hands were needed to assist with repairs, giving him all of enough time to stow his belongings and the unfortunate Moopsy refugee he’d found himself in the care of, before he was back out the door once again. His engineering skills were somewhat lacking, and truth be told, he probably ended up as more of a hindrance than a help... He wasn’t an engineer, he didn’t know the crew, nor did the crew know him, and three hours of people referring to him ‘Red’, ‘Trill’ and ‘Spots’,  left right and centre, had left him with a headache and a rather thin line of patience…

And now he was heading to the bridge, to pilot a vessel he’d never piloted before, in a battle with higher stakes than anything he'd faced before…

Despite his best efforts not to waste time staring out of the viewing ports as he’d commenced his mad scramble towards the turbolift, he’d seen enough of their surroundings to know that what he was about to engage in, was far bigger than anything that the Bowman had taught him… He was wracked with terror; fear, panic, doubt in his own abilities; he was about to have an entire vessel’s worth of lives on his shoulders, and he didn’t even know who he was serving on the bridge… It was a cacophony of emotions billowing through his mind, yet still, he persisted; doing things he’d never done before had been a theme of the past few days.

As he staggered off of the turbolift, head flailing in the unfamiliar corridors to gauge the correct direction, his consciousness did its best to fight off the invasive imaginings of fire and death that plagued his mind, thoughts that he tried desperately hard to interpret as a symptom of idle pessimism, rather than anything precognitive in nature. He could feel phantom heat upon his skin, the sensation of flames burning up his arms… Or perhaps it was just the side-effect of him having broken into a near sprint down the bridge access corridor as the sound of chaos rained in from every direction… It was hard to say either way, but it didn’t change much. He’d pilot their vessel regardless.

If he’d survived the events at the Hobus Star, he could certainly manage a few Romulans…

After all, he’d been roped into inter-species espionage, flown a shuttle across a battlefield in the wake of a high yield energy lance, flown said shuttle into a shield breach the size of a proverbial thimble, landed the shuttle on the side of a space station that was firing upon them, and, arguably, used transporter controls to deploy a bioweapon… Perhaps the last part wasn’t something to be especially proud of, but it had proved to him that he was capable of far more than he would have expected of himself. The away team had needed a distraction, and he’d provided one; it had helped to cause enough chaos on the station that the away team were able to do their jobs, it had saved lives… Plus, the Moopsies had gotten themselves a last supper out of it, and he couldn’t say he found all that much empathy for those working towards the mass-murder of several billion…

If he could do that, he could pilot an unfamiliar ship through a battle; flying was his speciality, after all.

“Ensign Llewellyn-Kth, CONN.” He briskly alerted the Ensign manning the security checkpoint, barely bothering to even slow his pace as he passed the desk and stepped through the doors onto the bridge, losing his footing so suddenly as another violent jolt wracked the ship, that he all but flew across the bulkhead, bracing himself against the mission ops table to prevent himself from hitting the floor… Not the most dignified entrance to the Bridge, but that was also on theme for his past few days.

“Apologies.” He apologised hurriedly as he glanced around, even the chaos of his stressed and addled mind pausing for a split second to admire the brilliance of his new surroundings… There was truly no mistaking the Theurgy as the most advanced ship in the fleet; it made the Bowman look like an antique… Yet the awe lingered only for a split second, before his eyes returned to his destination with a sudden focus, moving at a rapid but professional pace as he stole past the support staff and turned his concentration upon his destination, staring into the back of the Captain’s chair and beyond, to the CONN console. 

“Ensign Llewellyn-Kth reporting for CONN.” He called as he darted past the Captain’s chair and down towards his station, a small ripple of perturbation flickering across his face as he noted that the CONN was to the right of the bridge, whilst Sylvain was used to it being centred; it would take some getting used to. Coming to a breathless halt beside the CONN, where the black-furred Caitian was hammering down on the control panel as if they were playing percussion in a Klingon orchestra, the Ensign took a moment to evaluate their circumstances, hazel eyes already alight with analytical scorn as he focussed down on the control panels that flickered underneath the Caitian’s hands, the dazzling array of sensor readings already detailing a rather harrowing set of circumstances before him. 

In less stressful circumstances, the Ensign wouldn’t have dreamed of stepping foot onto the bridge of a new vessel without formally addressing the Captain and waiting for permission to take his station; it was an unthinkable act of belligerence to do anything but, after all... However, these were perhaps the most stressful circumstances of his life, and in such trying times, pleasantries sometimes had to wait. He would apologise if they survived the trials ahead, but right now, he had to focus. He had a vessel to pilot. 

“Crewman, I'll take it from here; they need you in the shuttlebay.” Sylvain spoke as firmly as possible, his trembling hands thankfully not infecting his mouth with their fear, the few seconds he’d taken to get acclimated with the sensor data already serving as a tonic to cool his tense and flustered mind. Yes, their circumstances were dire, but sensors and data were a safe space for him; there was always an answer in the numbers, a solution, a safe passage, and Sylvain was good at numbers, finding the pattern, solving the problem, reaching the destination… He was no tactician, but he understood how to pilot a ship, and already he was playing through a litany of evasive patterns in his head, analysing them for their pros and cons, discarding those that didn’t fit their needs: Beta, no, Gamma, no, Delta, no, Lambda, no, Theta, no, Epsilon… Epsilon.

If he could thread a shuttle through a breach in the shields of a space station, that was shooting at them, he could manage this.

He’d settled himself into the Caitian’s seat the instant that the crewman was no longer occupying it, narrowly avoiding sitting himself on the officer’s tail, his mind completely occupied with the task at hand, no far corner of his psyche able to compute anything outside of the console his eyes had become affixed to. The console felt uncomfortably warm as his fingers descended onto the glass, clammy almost, but the Ensign pushed the displeasurable sensation out of his focus, fingers dancing a waltz across the panel as he felt the mighty vessel’s engines flex under his control for the first time.

It was like a sip of iced water on a hot afternoon on Vulcan…

This was what Admiral Anderson had sent him here to do. His departure from the Bowman, lying to Captain Yume’s face despite everything she’d done for him, despite the danger that the Bowman themselves were flying into. The weeks he’d spent being ferried across the quadrant, avoiding conversations and having to be elusive with everyone he’d met, seizing up every time a security officer so much as glanced in his direction. The time spent in a stupor aboard the Klingon transport vessel, and every inch of grotesquery he’d been witness to there, the sleepless nights and the constant images of himself being stabbed in his sleep by some parasite-infested Klingon. His harrowing misadventures with Cora in the bowels of the Erudite, witnessing their scientific advancements perverted into weapons of mass destruction, and their efforts to liberate the Moopsies from their fate. The battle he’d fought at the Hobus Star, everything he’d pushed through just to survive this far, the aid he’d provided in halting a genocidal attempt to destroy the Romulan Empire…

Now, finally, after all of that, he’d found himself sitting in front of the console that he’d been recruited for, his control over the USS Theurgy’s engine for the first time rippling up through his arms like a calming salve against his wracked nerves. The console was unfamiliar, so was the vessel, but the data was not. The Theurgy may have been far bigger than the Bowman, but somehow she responded even more lithely, dancing through the void as he shifted their evasive pattern and banked to starboard as the Romulan torpedoes thundered through their wake like a pair of drunken Cadets too late for a party. Sylvain almost notice a tiny smile slip onto his lips.

He might have been a terrible intelligence agent, a poor engineer, downright atrocious at socialising... But he was a brilliant pilot. 

“CONN reporting, moving into evasive pattern Epsilon Eight.” He called calmly, fingers flying across the panel in a blur of pale flesh, as the behemoth of a ship that stretched out over one thousand metres from his seat, eagerly responded to his commands. “Engine power holding steady at eighty seven percent, Tactical let me know what you need and I’ll get us into position.” His voice rang out over the din of the bridge, unsure as to who his colleagues even were in this conflict, unknowing as to the names of the people around him that he was tasked with keeping safe from the volleys of weapons fire that was locked onto their vessel like the only port in an ion storm… Yet it didn’t matter; he’d give his everything no matter who they were.

That, after all, was what it meant to be Starfleet.
42
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: CH2: S [Day1|1900hrs] Show us what you got!
Last post by Krajin -
[ Dominic Winters | Holodeck 3 | Vector 2 | Deck 21 | The Ranger ATTN: @Dumedion @Pierce

Dominic ordered from the Replicator a meat platter to snack on, along with a pair of chopsticks over the use of a fork or similar tools as they were inherently messy and this would in some weird little way test his dexterity while the suit was on. He pulled up a crate and parked his butt on it with one leg crossed over the other and the platter resting against him. “Stories, stories..” He picks up a vegetable and eats it.Taking his time to get the positions of the sticks correct and get the mechanics of it all working. Sure enough, though many who knew the carnivorous nature of a Kzint may see this as crazy or ludicrous.

“So. Stories.. You want one of mine.. I am not about to relive the Dominion war. I already have a reminder and plenty of shit from that. Pretty sure none of you want that either..” He muses. Flexing his right hand slightly and doing that thing all men do when it comes to tongs, chopsticks, and everything else by testing them by clicking them together. Granted, that hand had those implanted claws in them.

“Alright. When I was first getting into the conn role. When I graduated the Academy, I was posted to the USS Akira. I worked as first shift conn, handled third shift tactical on occasion and flew the shuttles. Now the Akira was the Prototype, first of the Class, and is the testbed for many of the upgrades that go into the class. Now I have built a bit of a reputation for flying the Akira like I stole it. My first combat run was against some Orion Pirates. Now we had just had an impulse drive upgrade so things had been a little shaky. We were investigating some pirate activity along a trade route which as you can guess turned out to be Orion Pirates: three Corvettes and a Brigand class. Now the engagement was a little hairy, we got ambushed by two corvettes first, we crippled one corvette and after scoring an engine kill on the second, we had the damn Brigand plus another Corvette show up. We were outnumbered and outgunned just from force multiplication and well, we engaged.”

Dominic eats a bit and then continues on. “I got told to perform evasive maneuvers. Sooooo.. I pushed the Akira and made the cruiser dance. Phasers, Torpedoes.. We won! But I have the captain some new grey hairs when we took on the Brigand and danced around its disruptors. I think I taught the crew how to make an Akira dance and that it can really, really move. Engineering though.. really disliked me.”

He looked pleased as punch. “What about you two?”
43
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
ALL ACTIVE WRITERS: @Brutus @Nolan @Havenborn @chXinya @ob2lander961 @Dumedion @rae @Eirual @Griff @tongieboi @Stegro88 @Tae @AbsintheDeux @Sqweloookle @Hans Applegate @RyeTanker @Dree @Galaxymind @Number6 @joshs1000 @Krajin @Pierce @Relatively Insane @Nesota Kynnovan @P.C. Haring @JacenSoloDjo @Eden @TWilkins @SomeBunny @Ellen Fitz

[Triangle Space]

Sometime after the commencement of the battle, at the turning of the tide...

In the ancient Terran Greek plays, they called the phenomenon “deus ex machina,” where a seemingly impossible situation was remedied by seemingly implausible variables. Legendary Starfleet captains of old, and even peers to Captain Ives in the present day, could all testify to having been on the receiving end of such an occurrence once or twice (how else has the Federation continued to endure if not for a friendly push from the occasional deus ex machina?).

Of course, these same captains and the Federation itself had far more often been the victims of “diabolus ex machina,” or the unexpected worsening of a situation (often already terrible enough). In this instance, as Theurgy’s crew faced off on one (or could it be two) fronts with weakened ships and discord among their allies, should an old foe like the Borg show up, that would assuredly be seen as diabolus ex machina. And, in the opposite corner, the sudden arrival of two ships (in this case, the Allegiant and the Apache) at just the right time to fend off what could have been a killing blow to the Ranger or to Chancellor Martok’s fleet ship, would be classified as deus ex machina.

Lucky for the continuation of the Federation and Theurgy’s fight against the Infested threat against it, the latter occurred and NOT the former. Granted, no one on any of the ships had the quiet of mind to think of such literary devices. They were too busy manning their stations in the desperate attempt to stay alive. Perhaps later, when the proverbial dust settled, one or two ivory tower minded would wax eloquent over a glass of Romulan ale.
GM Notes: This opens up the battle thread for the writers of the Apache and Allegiant. Understand that they arrive after the battle has begun so in the supplemental threads, and also this one, you should depict that accordingly (i.e., Hirek arriving on the Allegiant would note the destroyed ships already littering the area as well as responding to arriving in the middle of a battle vs. Enyd, already on the Helmet, would be from the perspective of seeing the battle start).

UNDERSTAND YOU'LL NEED TO CHECK IN ON ALL THE SUPPLEMENTALS TO MAKE SURE YOU AREN'T DOUBLE DIPPING ON SOME ACTION OR SCREWING WITH DECISIONS MADE IN OTHER THREADS.

There should be the occasional post from a member of these supplementals back in this main battle thread to recap/update major decisions and such in-character ((as in they're reporting to Stark/Cross what they're doing and accomplishing)) as this will help us keep on the same page and track major battle moments without having to note all the details in one place. Once the supplemental threads are brought to a close, the battle will be officially finished in this main thread, and all writers are then encouraged to write a final response to the battle ending before the GM FINs this thread.
44
Parallel Universes - "What if?" / Re: [2376] Entanglement of Chaos
Last post by RyeTanker -
[Ensign XamotZark zh’Ptrell (Ens. Zark) | Federation Embassy Compound | Cardassia Prime] Attn: @Ellen Fitz

If Zark were human, she'd have turned beet, which would have been more humiliating and made her even more red.  Being blue skinned, she seemed to turn more towards coal.  This made it hard as she tried to hide her embarrassment while crossing her legs.  Her wife acted absolutely obliviously as she explained several of the games to Enyd who also looked like she was having a hard time simply ignoring the fact that there was a naked person in front of her. "The main thing with the card games like Texas Hold 'em and Baccarat is you cant show any emotion since it will give your opponents a good idea of the value of your cards.  That can get them to quit the round too early and preserving their chips, or if they sense blood in the water, force you into betting too aggressively for the strength of your hand."

The Shen stopped for a moment while tapping on Zark's stomach like she were a desk.  Since it was sumptuous flesh instead of something more solid, she soon began drawing circles on the presented abdomen as well which set Zark to subtly squirming again.  The cop continued giving pointers while absent mindedly teasing her wife, who was doing her best to hold in giggles or gasps of delight. The movement stopped though when the subject of dom jot came up.  "Where there's dom jot, there's Nausicans. The thing with those brutes is they love the game, and here's a secret about how they play...  The Shen leaned in before pausing for a slight moment. "But they're terrible at it." Ryzit leaned back as she finished. "There's a long history of violence and even blood shed with the Nausaicaans and that game."  The unrepentent Shen looked down at the still naked Zhen with a smile. "Didn't you have a story about that once?"  Zark huffed with caused her chest to rise and fall as she injected forced calm into her voice. "I heard about it from someone else.  She got a fractured rib and a broken leg when while trying to get out of a brawl.  The Nausicaans got out played by some Vulcans, but when they tried to start the fight, the punch hit a Klingon instead and everything just fell apart from there.  Serena was trying to get out of the bar but was at the opposite end from the door and a Klingon fell on her."  Zark shook her head at the memory.  "Or maybe the Klingon was thrown and landed on her.  Doesn't really matter how the Klingon hit her since all she remembers doing is screaming then waking up in a hospital."

Ryzit snorted at some something else. "The story aside, that's not the point here.  The main issue is how we get in and find the gold.  I was thinking that you...." and elegant blue finger pointed at Enyd. "Could play the role of a social dillentente with more money than sense.  I was hoping you'd have more card sharking skills, but even if you don't, that's fine.  The main goal is to generate excitement.  My lovely wife is going to do what she does best and act as your body guard, which she's already doing anyway.  I'll be a long suffering assistant who's going to act as your fetcher.  That'll give me plenty of chances to scope the place out and unobtrusively observe what's going on."  The cop let that sink in.  "If we can get some intel on where the gold is being kept, and we can confirm its existence, we'll try to extract it without causing too much of a fuss."  Another pause.  "Any questions before I go into the fine technical details?"
45
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 2: S [D01 | 1642hrs] The Spare Tire
Last post by Dumedion -
[Ens. Talia “Shadow” Al-Ibrahim | Cockpit | Wolf-4 | Space, near Conclave Convoy] Attn: @Havenborn @rae @joshs1000
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The situation had gone from bad to worse faster than Talia had thought possible: Javert was a dead stick. The primary bandit – Sparky – appeared to be trying to bore its way into the hull of the leviathan-sized Ark ship. Now the entire engagement sphere was swarming with the bastard’s smaller kindred, hell bent on killing the Wolves kamikaze style. It was all she could do to keep up with Janus – who was flying like a pissed off teenager – while she evaded, fired, and worked to restore her coms system.

“Initialize. Secondary. Power. Circuits,” Shadow grunted through a tight turn, unable to take her hands off the controls. There were too many drones to count, coming in at too many angles, which forced her into a constant stream of evasive maneuvers. “Report. Status.”

“Critical damage sustained to primary subspace transmitter,” Anahi droned, perfectly calm. “Recommend RTB, pilot.”

Shadow hissed a stream of eloquent curses in Arabic at that. “Auxiliary transmitter status!”

“Warning, proximity -” Anahi blared, as every console and HUD around Shadow flashed bright yellow.

For the majority of her career, Talia had trained extensively to react and respond to nearly every conceivable in flight emergency. Standard procedures were rehearsed over and over to the point of muscle memory, even though a checklist existed for everything. There was a standard to meet with every trainee through TacCon, just like at the Academy, but given her natural inclinations for competition and perfection, Talia had made something of a name for herself with the Viper’s on the Diamondback; she’d logged more sim-hours in her first year with the squadron than actual flight time by a factor of four. Practice makes perfect was her mindset – simultaneously seeking to outdo everyone’s scores while obsessing over every minuscule error. That rigid, inflexible methodology had indeed earned her some impressive sim scores.

This, however, was real, and reality had decided right at that moment to drop out of warp right on top of her.

Shadow hauled the stick back into her sternum hard enough to make her eyesight gray out, hoping she was fast enough to climb clear. Beyond the confines of her cockpit – which blurred with the boxy, old hull of whatever class of ship had decided to try to kill her – it might have appeared as if Shadow had intentionally buzzed the vessel. The nimble Valkyrie shot up vertical along its blunt nose, close enough haze it’s deflector screens in a film of white static, then rolled and banked hard across its dorsal hull out across it’s starboard pylon and engine housing with a flare of protesting engine wash.

“Fuck sakes,” Talia screamed at them as she passed between pants of breath, “learn how to break you fucking -”

“Auxiliary transmitter initiated,” Anahi announced pleasantly, as a chorus of coms traffic erupted in Talia’s helm after a burst of static, as her damaged systems struggled to stabilize the signals. She caught the tail end of the newcomer’s voice, but the rest was drowned out as her ventral shields flared to life under the impact of another suicide drone detonation while the newcomer’s engaged Sparky. Janus’ voice cut through in clipped tones that suggested he was under fire as well. Torpedoes. Sure, why not, Talia huffed, and rolled out from the bow of the Ark ship into a wide bank that brought Janus’ ship back into view: he was arcing between too swarms of mini-Sparky’s, drawing them both into one pursuit tendril, trailing plasma from a damaged thruster assembly, while Salvo made his run to the aid of what remained of the Fred far off out of visual range.

“Copy, Janus – hold course I’ll hit them in your wake,” Talia acknowledged as the fingers on her left hand keyed in the detonation sequence into the tactical console. Two quantums should make a dent, she guessed, as they closed head-on, targets locked deep into the mass of mini-drones three seconds apart; but if she fired now, they’d have enough time to evade. “Don’t worry I did this in a sim once. H-hard to port, on me,” Shadow stammered, too full of adrenaline to know how scared shitless she sounded. “Three, two, one, now!”

She launched her torps at ninety meters from Janus. Less than a second, at speed, for the missiles to streak by either side of his bird – followed by the electro-static discharge of both Valkryie’s shields buzzing off each other less than a second later – as their bellies nearly kissed in the void. Janus went one way, Talia the other, as the torps cooked off beyond. Shadow craned her neck around against the g’s, eyes narrowed against the light of the detonations.

“Holy shit that was crazy,” she breathed, “remind me not to do that again.”

At least it worked, though. The few mini-Sparky’s that remained seemed to be running to the aid of their big brother. Talia banked around to follow, blinking sweat from her eyes. The Ark ship rolled into view, blocking her view of the battle being waged on the far side of her approach angle. Everything they’d thrown at Sparky so far hadn’t made much of a dent – but perhaps Janus had another plan that might work, or whoever the new guys were for that matter. She arched an eyebrow over at the Wolf Leader as he drew up along her wing.

“That was educational – what’s next,” she breathed out, on open broadcast, while her and Janus opened up on the few remaining suicide drones.

OOC - Sorry for delay. @joshs1000 your up ;)
46
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 5 S [ D02 | 0800 hrs.] No One Left Behind
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Hathev| Corridors | Citadel Val’Theldun | Romulus ] ATTN: @rae  @Pierce   @Dumedion  @P.C. Haring   @chXinya   @Griff

If she had any question as to whether her attempted deception had worked on the General, the presence of the pair of armed guards waiting for her outside of his office did little to assuage her concerns. The Colonel had agreed to the proposal she had offered, but as he escorted her out of his office, Hathev had noticed more of his hand motions and, in the face of mounting evidence, concluded she was being played.

That, she concluded, was acceptable to her. So long as she was aware of the true dynamic at play and remained vigilant in her situational awareness, she concluded she possessed the upper hand. Unexpectedly, the guards did not lay hands on her and were willing to walk in front of her, likely to further the illusion that she was in charge. There were no signs or indicators to suggest where they were going but as the aesthetic grew darker and drearier, the Vulcan knew they were in a prison and interrogation wing of the Citadel. It seemed increasingly likely, and logical, to conclude that she was being taken to the High Inquisitor the General had earlier referenced.

If she needed any further confirmation, Hathev got it when the doors parted, and they stepped into the interrogation room. Three cells lined either side of the wide room all empty save one that held Johnston. Ahead of her, the cells stopped, allowing the main area of the room to form a T-like layout where two people chained to the floor and ceiling, wearing nothing but short smocks had been shackled facing each other. Hathev recognized them immediately as Lillee and Hirek. Both looked as though they had been tortured beyond being chained and stripped, though Hirek looked worse.

Making a conscious choice, Hathev relaxed her emotional suppression allowing the rising anger in. It would fuel her for what was to come.

"Ah, Major Nalah", The voice came from around the corner as a Romulan, a long smock covering his own uniform, stepped around the corner. Unlike the smocks worn by the prisoners this one had pouches and pockets each with various tools and implements sticking out, waiting to be used.

The High Inquisitor.

"I've been expecting you. Welcome." He motioned to the guards still standing in front of her. his actions a choreographed tell of what was to come next. "Take her."

Before the inquisitor finished the instruction, Hatter was already in motion as she took a deliberately large step back. This forced the guards to reach further for her than anticipated, causing them to turn and their centers to shift. The Vulcan reached forward, grabbing each outstretched arm at the respect-re elbows, and shoved, her anger in fused Vulcan strength sharing the two into each other, knocking them both off balance.

The guard on her right recovered quicker and lunged for her as Hathev drove the heel of her hand up into the Romulan's, noise, breaking it with a blood-splattered crunch. He staggered back, allowing Hathev to turn her attention to the other guard. He swung a wildly predictable backhand at her, striking her across the face. He wound up for another attack. She recovered but was too slow to stop her hand from clamping down at the base of his neck as her nerve pinch put him into submission.

Pain seared into her right shoulder as the disruptor blast struck her. She cried out in pain as she dropped to a 'time and grabbed the guard’s weapon with her left hand. The inquisitor fired again but struck the guard who had effectively become her cover. She natured fire, scoring a hit center mass, dropping the Inquisitor. To her right, the Romulan with the broken nose had regained himself enough to rejoin the struggle, but a blast from Hathev’s weapon put him down, ending the fight.

The Vulcan did not permit herself the time to calm herself. Lives were on the line, and delay on her part only added to then considerable danger. Checking the Disruptor, she noted the weapon had been set to stun. It was not like the Romulans to stun the i- targets, but if they had orders to interrogate her, they would need her alive. That served her needs just fine. She disarmed the other guard and reset his weapon to kill.

Johnston stood in one of the holding cells. He hadn't been touched yet. She fired on the control panel, releasing him.

"Find clothes for them," she ordered. before turning her attention to Lillee and Hirek. "I'll get you two down as soon as possible."

The Vulcan crossed to the control station, but she found the console locked out. Logical.

She did not hesitate as she made for the unconscious Inquisitor and disarmed him. She then set the tips of her fingers on the side of the face and mind melded. It was well known that most Romulans were resistant to the technique, but unconscious Romulans could not exercise that training, and the unconscious inquisitor gave up the access codes with ease.

As the first order of business, Hathev logged in using the Inquisitor’s credentials and keyed the sequence to lower and release Lillee and Hirek. Johnston had returned empty-handed from his search for clothes, so as Hathev helped Lillee into the privacy of one of the six holding cells where she could at least sit and calm herself, Johnston did the same with Hirek. Of course, they left the cell force fields down so her companions could move about as they wished. She left one of the Disruptors with Lillee as she seemed to need some sense of safety and protection

"Strip them," Hathev said, motioning to the unconscious guards and the inquisitor. Between the two of them, Hatter concluded they could piece together two outfits that could be made to work.

While Johnston went to work on the wardrobe, Hatter turned her attention back to the console. Keying through it, she found a prisoner manifest. From what she could tell, a prisoner transporter system had been installed, and the Inquisitor could beam prisoners from the main cell block to the interrogation chambers. She had to give the Romulans credit for their efficiency. This method would cut down on the possibility of prisoners escaping.
But it also had the added benefit of making things damn convenient. Digging into the prison records, Hathev discovered that Pierce and Kerina were in holding. That left Nysari and Kino unaccounted for once she considered the crew still aboard Allegiant.

The automated transporter controls were easy enough to use, requiring only a single button push to initiate transport. In short order, Pierce and Kerina materialized in the middle of the room.

"Welcome." she said to her colleagues as she tossed the second disruptor to Pierce, keeping the third for herself.
~~
[PO2 Kino Jeen | Operations Hub | Citadel Val’Theldun | Romulus]

Sirens wailed.

Kino’s fingers were a blur across the console, eyes narrowed in focus; the Reman, Tiramex, stood nearby, ever alert for movement. He was growling impatiently, which the Trill tried to ignore. On the screens before her, Jeen was attempting the impossible – even with the memories and expertise of previous hosts at her disposal, she couldn’t read Romulan, so she had to keep asking him to translate every few seconds – which only fueled the Reman’s irritation.

“This is taking too long, Reen,” he growled.

“It's Jeen, and I’m going as fast as I can,” Kino snapped back. “They keep locking me out every time I manage to breach a sub-routine. I can’t access main power distribution, but I got environmental and surveillance,” she added quickly, watching keenly as a multitude of camera feeds dominated the screen to her left. “I can’t unlock ultra-max, but I can trigger a decontamination alarm that will override the security systems for a few minutes until they lock it down. Will that be enough time?”

The Reman grunted. “If my people are prepared to act, yes.”

“Well, we make an announcement then,” Kino nodded and slotted the guard's access disk into the terminal, then quickly called up the PA system. A device slid up out of the console desk, seemingly a microphone. “Since one of us sounds normal and the other like a hungry lizard, what do you want me to say?”

Tiramex narrowed his eyes at her temerity but rasped a few words in his native tongue. Kino repeated it, which earned her another drawn-out growl from his chest. “Your accent is –“

“Look, we’re on the clock here,” Kino reminded him and repeated the phrase again.

“Good enough,” Tiramex nodded wearily.

“What does it mean?”

“In your tongue? It translates poorly: children of the dark, rise.”

Kino shrugged, then nodded, and keyed the mic, her eyes glued to the screen. A few seconds later, she triggered a full system decon alarm through the entire ultra-max wing: complete with pulsing blue alarms, emergency ventilation and a shit load of doors opening. Guards instantly scrambled through the halls, followed soon after by prisoners of all kinds. A mass melee ensued.

“That’ll keep them busy for awhile,” Kino sighed and resumed her search for the Allegiant crew. The Reman came to her side, gesturing with a claw to the scene.

“You have given my people a chance. I will not forget it – nor will they. I must leave you now to aid them further,” he nodded to her as they met face to face. “If we survive to meet again, Kino Jeen,” he emphasized, “know that you have earned an ally of the Reman Underground. Farewell.” He turned to leave then, leaving the Trill with a confused look on her face.

“Okay, cool – I’ll just…find my people on my own then, I guess,” Jeen called out to his back, but the Reman never even slowed down.

“You are stronger than you look, Jeen. Hunt well.”
[A few moments later…]

She moved in a low crouch down the corridor, stolen disruptor pistol up and panning, held over a wrist, a blood-stained dagger clenched in a reverse grip in her fist. The complex was a maze of stone walls, but if her memory served (thanks to the map she’d tried to memorize along with the camera feed placements), Kino hoped to run into her quarry in at the next intersection – so long as they hadn’t changed direction.

The non-com paused and knelt about a foot from the corner and waited. Footsteps echoed, with hushed voices; unintelligible, but unmistakably two – male and female. Easy, Kino breathed, slow is smooth, smooth is fast. She checked the power level on her disruptor . Primed. The blade she held low, close to her chest. Once the first set of legs passed, Kino moved in a blur; a leg lashed out in a sweep, which sent the male tumbling. A shoulder checked into the female to knock her back into the wall, out of harms way – as the Trill leveled the pistol and fired. The bastard popped the shot up and off with the heel of his foot, then scrambled up to grapple as Kino closed. A knee slammed into her thigh. An elbow collided into his head. They spun each other around, grunting; Kino’s back cracked into the wall, then they both tripped and rolled over the person she was trying to save.

The melee ended when Kino scrambled into a mounted position, the blade of her dagger held at the male’s throat – pressed tight just under his adam’s apple, hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

“Give me a reason, fuckhead,” Kino hissed in his face, all teeth and dead seriousness, but held off from slicing his throat open. “Nysari,” she called instead without taking her eyes off his, “you okay – talk to me.”

The Romulan had the audacity to smirk up at her. “Your spots are showing,” he whispered with more than a hint of amusement, “is it true they go…all the way down?”

Kino narrowed her eyes in a frown as she sat up on top of him, then placed the business end of her disruptor into his grinning mouth; to the man’s credit, that seemed enough to wipe the smug amusement away rather quickly. The Trill listened as the Andorian-in-disguise filled her in, with a moderate degree of complaints for having been shoved into a wall, followed by a brief chastisement of Kino’s use of unnecessary force. With her pistol still lodged in the smuggler’s mouth – Jeen shrugged as her eyes snapped up and across the hall for threats.

“This guy could be anyone, LT,” Kino sighed but shook her head and stood, keeping her weapon trained on him. “Fuck around and find out,” she warned him as she backed off to stand beside the diplomat. “We gotta move back to Interrogation. The others have rallied there,” Jeen whispered. “I think the counselor has a plan and help. There’s a lift back that way,” she nodded the way the pair had come.

Further conversation was interrupted by a series of ominous rumbles, followed by a rather jarring quake in the entire structure, and every alarm in the facility blared to life.

“Ah, that would be the Remans, I bet,” Kino winced at the LT. “We should hurry before they tear this place a new asshole.”
[A few moments later…]

The lift was locked out (or damaged, given the burn marks that pock-marked the doors), but Kino still had her access disk. She slotted it in without hesitation and keyed in the code Tiramex had helped her decipher, but nothing happened – the door didn’t even budge. With a frown, the non-com tried again, with the same results. Only as the screen next to the console lit up did she feel the familiar weight of the disk still in her pocket, however. Her frown turned into a confused grunt as she pulled the device out, wondering where she got two of them.

“I believe that is mine,” the smuggler quipped over her shoulder and attempted to swipe it, but Kino pulled it away.

“No touching, fuckhead,” she sneered, then slotted it in.

The door remained closed, but then audio crackled to life, drowned out by all the sirens but still clearly heard. Deep moans, almost comically over-acted, behind a steady rhythm of flesh impacting flesh at a furious pace. Kino flinched at the sounds, then did a double take at the imagery on the screen – which was probably being broadcast throughout the entire Citadel: an Andorian, mounted atop a Vulcan, while another stood behind, each of the males pounding away at the lithe blue body grinding down on them both. Various names, obscenely biological, lit up and faded around the trio; apparently, this was only the opening scene.

“What. The. Fuck,” Kino snarled and spun to jab her disruptor right into the smuggler’s left eye. “The fuck is this shit!”

Any answer was delayed, however, as the trio dematerialized in a wash of glittering light to find themselves transported directly before Cmdr. Hathev and company. Kino grimaced and shoved the Romulan back before lowering her weapon. The porno was still playing in the background of muffled explosions and endless sirens as she looked over the group with a sigh.

“Can we get off this fucked up planet now?”
~~
[[Lt. Cmdr. Alana Pierce] | [Lt. JG Ashley Kerina] | Corridors | Citadel Val’Theldun | Romulus]


Pierce sat with Kerina, trying to keep the other woman calm despite the tense situation. The touch of their hands brought a sense of peace to Pierce. The mock communicator, now placed where her badge should be, chirped lightly. She heard the familiar hum of a Romulan transporter materializing around them when, suddenly, she and Ashley began to disappear, only to rematerialize in a medium-sized room with Hatheev at the controls. As she turned her head, she saw Johnston assisting Hirek and Lillee before she stood up, barely catching a disruptor. Letting out a breath of relief, she began to stand.

Hatheev's very Vulcan and familiar welcome brought a smile to Pierce's face. She brushed her crimson hair aside and positioned the pistol at the ready. Kerina, still shaken but regaining composure, found a pipe lying nearby and armed herself, standing slightly beside Pierce.

"Thanks, Hatheev. Glad someone found us so quickly. Seems like things went somewhat better for you though." Pierce noticed the Vulcan woman had been hit by a disruptor blast. She gave Hatheev a concerned look but knew that Vulcans could suppress pain for a time. Pierce moved to cover the door.

"Report!" She yelled back at Hatheev. "How many of us are captured? What's the mission status that you're aware of?" Her mind was back to wandering all over the mission parameters now as she stood ready to pounce. She too being in pain from the recent beatings was sore as hell and honestly was ready to get back to the ship and soak, but time for that later. Now they'd been unleashed into the darkest pits of hell and needed a way out.

Glancing down the hall from the interior, she looked back into the room. "How ready are we to bolt down the corridor? That is, unless we can get a handy transport out of here." She winked as the sarcasm struck before awaiting an answer.

Ashley looked around at these Starfleet pros unknowing what she'd stumbled upon. What went from a routine research mission for her on shoreleave quickly devolved into a nightmare. Time for research later though, now she had to help where she could. "Is there anything I can help with? I'm on shoreleave, but Starfleet. Lieutenant Junior Grade Ashley Kerina sirs. Sciences and Cybernetics." She announced for any way to be useful in this situation.

Pierce heard some movement down the corridors as she stood ready. “Fuck it, let’s get our crew and move. Get as much intel as possible. We may have to fight our way out!”
47
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 2: S [D01 | 1642hrs] The Spare Tire
Last post by Havenborn -
[ LT Daniel Havenborn, Callsign: Salvo | Cockpit | AC-307 Mark-II Valkyrie “Hellcat”] Attn: @Dumedion @rae

Daniel listened as the strange, mechanized squid-being spoke about chronometric readings and temporal displacements and while he understood a little of that, having taken a basic course on temporal mechanics, he still wasn’t really sure what to make of it.  He cared more about how to kill it and less about where it came from.  When the ark began to dislodge smaller objects that looked like drones of some kind, similar in design to the larger squid-like drone that was attacking the ark.  He watched as the drones suddenly turned their weapons on their own and on them.  As he began to maneuver his fighter around to attack some of the smaller drones a quartet of missiles detonated nearby which managed to destroy a couple of the smaller drones but the drones didn’t look like they were the intended target, it looked to Daniel as more of a distracting attack, trying to get the squid-like drone off the Conclave vessel.

Knight alerted him to another quartet of missiles being fired from a vessel roughly the size of a Miranda-class.  “The ship is called the Xebrek, it’s friendly for the moment.”  Knight stated as a pair of Drones took shots at them, Daniel nodded, knowing full well that Knight couldn’t see him nod and turned his attention to the drones attacking them, he armed a photon torpedo and launched it at the pair of drones which had quickly turned into a trio as a third one had joined them.  That was fine by Daniel, as the drones easily dodged the larger photon torpedo as Daniel assumed they would he triggered the torpedo’s detonator and in a second took out all three drones.  Three more down.  He thought to himself.  He was carrying a standard loadout, four, well three now, photon torpedoes and a pair of twin mass-drivers along with the standard complement of micro-torpedoes and phasers.  He had expected that if he got into combat it’d have been with attack craft or small warbirds not tiny drones.

He was vaguely aware of where the shuttlecraft was during all of this, keeping its location in mind and when the shuttlecraft started to get closer to the combat zone he was a concerned, especially with all the drones around.  From what he understood the Mohs was there for support not for combat, he really hoped that the pilot wasn’t someone from TacCONN trying to show off or something.  Suddenly there was a flash outside his view and only thanks to his helmet’s HUD was he made aware of it, the shuttle had been struck by several of the drones self-destruct devices.  He then heard the orders come from Janus.  [color= lightsteelblue]Salvo, Janus.  Protect the shuttle.[/color]

Daniel nodded and communicated back.  “Understood sir.”  He said as he whipped his fighter around hearing a slight strain as he tried to coax more power out of his engines than he probably should have.  The Mohs was taking pot shots as best it could to try and take out some of the drones.  “Mohs, this is Salvo, I’m inbound.”  He said.

[ LTJG Ava Weaver-Havenborn | Cockpit | Type-11 Shuttlecraft “Friedrich Mohs”]

Ava recovered from her brace and as she looked over at Talera she realized that the woman was dead and for the moment there was nothing that she could do to help her.  She regained her senses and as she was trying to maneuver away from the drones and the battlefield she saw an unmistakable fighter moving towards the shuttle, she also heard Janus’s orders and then heard the unmistakable sound of her husband’s voice giving her orders.  [color= fc2323]“Acknowledged Salvo.”[/color]  She responded to him but soon she realized that the shuttle wasn’t moving very fast.  As she looked over the systems she found that the shuttle was heavily damaged.  A majority of the critical systems were heavily damaged, warp and impulse drives were both out but she still had RCS thrusters, life support was still working but not much else, she looked around the cabin and saw the other two passengers.

She got up and went over to them, checking their pulses quickly, both still alive but unconscious.  She returned to the pilot’s seat and opened up a communication line to her husband’s fighter, checking the shuttle’s shield strength as she did, less than a quarter strength left, that wasn’t good she thought to herself..  [color= fc2323]“Salvo, I’ve lost warp and impulse but I’ve got RCS.  I have two wounded and one KIA, life support is functional and shields are less than a quarter strength.”[/color]  She stated in a quick report to him.

[ LT Daniel Havenborn, Callsign: Salvo | Cockpit | AC-307 Mark-II Valkyrie “Hellcat”]

Daniel was a little surprised to hear his wife’s voice respond over the communications channel.  His first thought was to ask her why she was piloting the shuttle but his training kept him on the task at hand.  Knight informed him of the remaining drones nearby and he turned his attention back to them.  He primed his pulse phasers and shot off a burst between the shuttle and the remaining drones which promptly got their attention focused on him rather than the damaged shuttle which Knight was now informing him about.  He prepared to fire another torpedo but realized that the shuttle, which was heavily damaged wouldn’t be able to take that kind of blast.  Suddenly he heard his wife again, she gave him a status report that confirmed what Knight had just told him.  “Understood Mohs, sit tight while I deal with the drones.”  He replied.

He activated his mass drivers and set them on auto-fire as he input the drones as the targets.  He maneuvered his fighter around and the shuttlecraft in a pass as he heard the mass drivers cycle and begin their firing sequence, another drone down, only three more remaining as he swung around the starboard side of the shuttlecraft, feeling the vibration from the mass drivers this time instead of hearing them he watched as this drone managed to dodge all of the rounds and thinking quickly he lined up another shot but this time fired a burst of phaser pulses one way as the drone attempted to dodge again but got caught in the phaser salvo, the other one however managed to fire off some shots that hit the fighter.  “Shields down to eighty-eight percent.”  He heard knight say from behind him.  He flipped his fighter around pulling off an Immelman turn and watched as the third drone fell into his trap and his mass drivers auto-tracked and fired on it destroying it.  With the threat eliminated to the shuttle he assessed the damage.  “Mohs, Salvo.  Prepare for tractor tow.”  He said as he activated his tractor beam and began to pull the shuttlecraft away from the battle so they could make repairs.

----

OOC: I think I got everything, sorry for the long wait.
48
Interregnum 01-02 S2 / Re: Day 15 [0823 hrs] Starships Aplenty
Last post by Pierce -
Ensign Lauren Pierce | Holodeck 03 | Deck 21 | Vector 03 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @tongieboi [Show/Hide]

Lauren smiled and moved to the navigation console to plot the course. "Straight ahead it is," she affirmed, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach at the honor of piloting THE Enterprise. She glanced over at Joe, appreciating his attempt to decipher the controls too, and smiled warmly.

"Don't worry," she said reassuringly. "I've got faith in you. And no, none of those buttons are helm controls. They're for various systems, but the helm... well, it's manual. Which is my favorite."

Her movements were confident and deliberate as she touched the board. "It's been a while since I've flown one of these, but it should be just like riding a bike," she added with a wink. She began working on releasing the ship's moorings, her fingers moving swiftly over the controls.

As Lauren worked, she finally registered his comment about the provisions. "No need to worry about stocking holographic provisions. We're not going far enough for that to be an issue." She chuckled slightly at the thought. After all, it was only a short command to get out and head to the mess hall.

Finally, she completed the preparations and turned back to her companion. "All set. Ready for a little trip down memory lane?" She gave him an encouraging nod, her eyes filled with a hint of excitement.
49
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Epi 2 [ D02 | 2300 hrs.] All Squared up at the Triangle
Last post by Ellen Fitz -

ATTN: All Active Writers

While not quite spectacular enough to have androids sing about it, the wee cael pulex was nonetheless poised in the perfect spot to witness the upcoming battle. It hadn’t intended on being in such a position; in faction, the cael pulex has such a small brain it is debated whether it has the capacity to intend anything beyond the necessary functions to exist (that of eating, defecating, and reproduction). However poised it was, and poised it would remain. Unless, of course, it managed to find its way into the path of weapons fire traded between the Romulans, Klingons, and Federation ships (not that it could recognize these races or even grasp the danger it was in by remaining in this area of space).

Thus, while Admiral Vrotait, aboard a D'deridex class Romulan vessel, communicated battle plans with General Nacur on one of the Valdore class ships, and Commander Toldar on a D-7 class ship, the cael pulex drifted into a bit of “space dust” and began munching away at some delectables found within the collection. Chewing on its dinner, the cael pulex couldn’t be bothered by the quick action of Major Lelan as she led the first squadron of Romulan Stalker fighters against their enemies. Neither could it be bothered when Sublieutenant Havat challenged Sublieutenant Dahee to see who could kill the most Klingons in the onslaught.

The minuscule cael pulax, so small that only specialists with special instruments could even detect it, continued to care not a whit for the comings and goings of the big creatures and their vessels when General Eklom, onboard a Vor’cha class Klingon vessel, issued commands to Brigadier Ujal on a Negh’Var class ship, who then relayed the commands to Captains Nevi and Gokless, commanding K’t’inga and D-5 class ships respectively. The only time the cael pulax “flinched” in all this was when Commander Bulak, on board a Raptor class, moved his ship close to the cluster of space dust the cael pulax presently called its dining room, positioning the Klingon ship in such a way that Lieutenants Eklish, Otaq, and Pungol, flying Phantom Raiders, could respond directly against the Romulan Stalker fighters.

Thankfully, it was not enough of a disturbance to the cael pulax that it felt the need to move on to another bit of space dust. It remained content, albeit on the front lines of mayhem, unaware of how this battle was the result of an Infested Romulan Praetor sending her forces after her political rival and her rival’s (potentially temporary) allies. Hadn’t been able to comprehend the initial communications of threats and bluffs between the Praetor’s forces and her rivals when they’d finally come together, and neither had it understood the ramifications of the Federation vessel inserting itself between these two groups or noted how the third group (Klingons) attempted to flank both groups of Romulans. When first strikes occurred, from cloaked ships among both sets of Romulans and Klingons, the cael pulax again hadn’t noticed or cared.

While the vacuum of space around it began to fill with the debris of broken vessels and maimed bodies of those unlucky enough to be aboard the broken vessels, the cael pulax enjoyed its dinner and relished its tiny existence.

GM Notes: This will be the main thread for the intro to the battle beginning, and everyone on the Erudite, Ranger, and Helmet should post at least one time to establish where they're going/doing in the subsequent battle. Understand, there are more ships (of various classes) than those named here, so in the main two objectives (take out Romulan fighters, take out Tal'aura's forces), have fun with what/who you want to name from among the enemy/ally forces.

We encourage you to do other smaller threads of your choice/interest and so encourage you to recruit writers to fit with the objective you wish to address (threads move more quickly with groups of 3-6). These objectives can/should take place in separate threads as Supplementals. More than one supplemental can address an objective if the writers are focusing on the objective from a different perspective.

UNDERSTAND YOU'LL NEED TO CHECK IN ON ALL THE SUPPLEMENTALS TO MAKE SURE YOU AREN'T DOUBLE DIPPING ON SOME ACTION OR SCREWING WITH DECISIONS MADE IN OTHER THREADS.

There should be the occasional post from a member of these supplementals back in this main battle thread to recap/update major decisions and such in-character ((as in they're reporting to Stark/Cross what they're doing and accomplishing)) as this will help us keep on the same page and track major battle moments without having to note all the details in one place. After the GM notes the return of the Apache and Allegiant in this main thread, the writers in these chapters should likewise make a post of where their characters are and what they're doing before going off to do supplemental threads.

Once the supplemental threads are brought to a close, the battle will be officially finished in this main thread, and all writers are then encouraged to write a final response to the battle ending before the GM FINs this thread.
50
Interregnum 01-02 S2 / Re: Day 09 [15:30 hrs,] Once Upon the Island
Last post by P.C. Haring -
[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Pirate vessel qu'DuHSum | BIQ'a'bIng Ocean | Qo’Nos] Attn: @Ellen Fitz‍ 

Hathev did not offer Cross a direct response to his tirade about Vulcan emotions, Vulcan superiority, or even his apology for said tirade. A part of her desired to respond in kind, but she knew that while such an emotional outburst might, in fact, prove her point, it might also ruin whatever they could salvage from this leave. Besides, she realized the fallacy in attempting to debate the topic with him as it became more and more obvious to her that Cross knew very little of Ancient Vulcan history.

“You may be correct, Cross,” she conceded, as she sat down next to him the black unitard pulling and stretching around her curves, the metal plates tinking against each other ever so slightly. “Your assertion that Vulcans are afraid of their emotions may very well be true.”

She paused as she debated whether or not to continue. This discussion was not unlike the many she had had with Triss back on Earth and she, not for the first time, wondered if it had been this gulf that had doomed their marriage. Discretion suggested she should let the matter drop for now, but even so, she felt compelled to continue. 

“The evidence you alluded to lays within our ancient texts. They describe Ancient Vulcans as a people who acted on their most violent impulses without regard to any other consideration. A near endless cycle of war ravaged and devastated the home world and nearly annihilated the Vulcan people.  As a species, we only survived by embracing logic and learning how to control and, yes, suppress the emotions we feel every moment of every day so as to gain a control over ourselves.”

She paused, briefly as she focused on her own self control.  The Vulcan did not want to come across angry, or patronizing.

“But within each Vulcan lays an unacknowledged, unspoken fear, that our ability to keep our emotions in check will fail.  In my own personal case, as I have come to believe that my own ability to control my emotions has become permanently damage, I experienced that sense of unbridled, uncontrolled rage on deck when I defended us against that Klingon.  Maybe it was justified.  Maybe any reasonable person would respond the same way.  But in that moment, I, willingly or otherwise, gave in to those violent impulses.”

Hathev took another breath as memories of similar conversations between her and Triss returned to the surface.  Ironic that now Hathev found the roles reversed  Instead of Triss needing support and Hathev providing only logical analysis of the problem, now it was Hathev in need with Cross unable to see her perspective.  She could only hope that the discussions she was having now turned out more favorably than the discussions she had had back then.  If they didn’t she might find herself alone once again; a prospect she did not find agreeable.

“I am relieved that my actions yielded a positive outcome to our struggle.  However, at the same time, the experience has left me unsettled and yes, afraid, of what might happen if I should give in like that again and be unable to re-assert my self control.”

She shifted her position again, sliding closer to him and settling in as if she were trying to be a ‘small spoon’ to him., a physical prompt to go along with what she was about to tell him.

“I recognize that you may not fully understand or agree with my perspective.  But at the same time, I hope you can acknowledge what I am feeling, and find some way to provide comfort and reassurance.”
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