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91
Director's Cut / Re: [2374] USS Hamburg: Meditate on the Way of the Targ
Last post by JacenSoloDjo -
USS Hamburg | 2374 | A few days ago... Attn: @Dumedion‍

"No, Papi, I really don't get why you're wanting to pull me off my posting," Kath said, trying to rein in the frustration in her voice. War, war, war. Too many conversations of 'no, Papi, we aren't going to repeat the F-C War. I never said don't tell mami where I'm going'.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Kath inhaled slowly and then let it out before glaring at the video of her father, sitting 'pretty' back on Earth, in San Francisco to be exact. But at no point would Kath say that she hated that her father was out of danger and she was on the front lines of the Dominion War. And yes, he was proud, that wasn't the issue. Yes, he believed in her ability to bug the fuck out and keep out of trouble. She had spent years learning how to melt away into nothing when danger came down on her head.

"You could come back to the core worlds--" Alec MacFarlane said. Every word he spoke made the light glint off his Captain pips.

"No!" Kath snapped. And she almost ended the comm call there. But her anger retreated as quickly as it had appeared. She would not abandon her crewmates. She had her own squad. She would not leave them because she had the privilege of having a high ranking father. "I will be fine. You have to let me fight the war where and when I want."

And she almost, almost admitted to her time in Starfleet Intelligence. But instead she waited for his usual 'of course you will be fine, you're a MacFarlane' and then overly polite goodbyes.


Starfleet HQ | 2374 | Now

"We're getting reports from a comm buoy that the Hamburg has run into the same trouble as the last ship sent to the area. Good news, not incommunicado because of enemy jamming. Bad news, it's system based. As soon as anyone gets into the system comms break down. Further reports are of the Dominion troops in the area. The Hamburg is a good ship, but she can't keep going at the enemy the way she is," Vice Admiral Dagmar reported, directly in Alec's earshot. The elder MacFarlane turned pale, making him whiter than he already was despite the San Francisco sun. They all knew comm buoys were only deployed like this if the originating ship had run into trouble of the enemy troop variety. "Send the Colorado."


J'Rovia Reclusiam | "" | ""

Kath suppressed the natural elder sibling instinct to reach out towards Taer and actually look the Trill over personally. An instinct that did not care she had been born an only child and continued as such until her cousin became her de facto younger sibling. Instead she gave a slight nod to the non-com. Then her gaze swung to Adelaide who was broadcasting the SOS in the only way that could actually get through to the ship above them. A ship that Kath had stopped being able to see in orbit. Which only meant one thing: The Jem'Hadar on the planet were being supported by the Dominion ships harrying their only chance to get off the stupid planet.

"Not in the mood for a schlep is putting it mildly," she stated, voice as dry as the deserts of Bajor, her torso complaining about her insistence on talking. But, of course, Kath would run it if she had to do it. Would literally carry her entire squad on her back if she had to; it was just who she was. She was expendable. Her crew was not. And so she bristled as Kino gave the fateful last stand dialogue everyone was familiar with from all the war-based holonovels. That was Kath's thing, thank you very much. Captains went down with the ship, commanding officers covered the retreat. It was on her that those under her command made it to safety.

"Fuck that," she was blurting before she could put the filter between her brain and her mouth. "In case you forgot, you're the mission. You're the reason we beamed down in the first place. Regardless of when my boots hit the ground, they're going to be the last ones off even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming to the EZ."

She wasn't one for speeches, she left that to the captains and the flag officers. So she didn't offer one now. But imagine swelling music anyway.

Her gaze flicked to the mess of metal that thumped to the ground just in front of her knee. She almost jokingly said 'rude' but honestly her heart wasn't in it and those kinds of jokes were better left for actually being in relative safety. Stifling a cringe the best she could, she reached out to pick the repulsor stretcher up before her gaze went in the direction of the 'high ground'. Starships that could reach atmo often made high ground a poor option. But it would give them a good view of the surrounding area and a clear shot for the IR. All they had to do was hold out until the shields could be dropped to allow transport.

"Everyone left here might outrank you but you've got the layout in your head. No'a is almost useless with just the one hand still working but they've got my backup pistol. You want off this rock? Get my squad to a defensive position. So listen to me: get to the LZ and keep the IR going on a cycle so the Hamburg knows exactly where we moved to."

She left it unsaid that she would likely slow everyone the hell down anyway. But she had full intentions on just watching everyone's sixes while charging in the opposite direction (retreat was not an option). She also left it unsaid she would kick the ass of anyone who argued with her plan.

Then she tossed one of her many spare battery packs to Kino, a brow raising.


USS Hamburg | "" | ""

"Sir, the signal went down. Scanners have picked up nothing coming into the system. What are we supposed to do?" Comms called out.

They all flinched as the entire ship rocked and sent numerous crew sprawling onto the floor throughout the various decks. Sparks jolted out from one of the computer consoles on the bridge. An alert came to life on the conn.

"We're losing thrusters, Sir!" Helm reported.

"Whip around the planet while we still have the power to do it." The hope was it would be unexpected enough to give them an advantage. The option of going to warp was always there. But there was an abject refusal on the part of every person on the Hamburg; they weren't going to flee and leave their own down on the planet to fend for themselves.

Almost everyone held their breath as the Galaxy-class roared forward and completely out of range of the officers on the ground.


J'Rovia Reclusiam | "" | ""

"Go, Petty Officer Taer," Kath said, checking the battery pack on her rifle and brushing some caked debris off of the scope. She pointedly ignored the blood dried on her own hand. The great thing about her dossier was being hurt in battle didn't effect her aim.

The lack of further Jem'Hadar could lull one into a false sense of security. But that would never be Kath. Instead, she surged to her feet and stumbled forward a little until NuQach caught her by the elbow. Then a large Klingon arm wrapped around her waist.

"Really inspiring, but today is not a good day to die. Not here," NuQach rumbled when Kath peered up at the Klingon hybrid. Kath would laugh if she didn't think it would completely piss off her already very cranky torso.

"Don't worry about it. I've been hurt worse than this and still made it to the extraction," Kath said. Adelaide picked up the repulsor stretcher and Kath pushed her rifle over her shoulder and let it hang from its strap on her back. Then Kath took the stretcher from the other woman and looked it over more closely.

"Get going. I'll be a few paces behind," she repeated, firmly, then, loudly over her shoulder, "Karatek, No'a, time to move!"

The Lieutenant couldn't help but look at No'a's mangled hand again then glanced around the immediate area. Still no Jem'Hadar. But that could change in an instant. They needed to take advantage of the silence and emptiness.

NuQach reluctantly pulled away. Kath gave a smile and a nod. She gave them all a headstart before beginning to walk after them. She pulled her rifle back into her arms just in case while using the good side of the stretcher to give her abused hip a break. She would absolutely be getting off the planet mostly under her own power.
92
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: PRO: S [Day 1 | 1235 hrs] Tell Me I'm the Fairest of the Fair
Last post by TWilkins -
[Ensign Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth | Deck Eleven Turbolift | Deck 8 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] @joshs1000

“Oh gosh…” Sylvain admonished himself under his breath, acknowledging the Kzin’s words with an abrupt step forwards into the turbolift, no small amount of alarm echoing across his flushed features… He was supposed to be in a rush himself, he had an absurd amount of information to gather from his quarters before he departed for the Erudite, and time was very much of the essence; holding up the turbolift for the whole ship was quite the antithesis of that goal. Stepping back into the turbolift in a flurry of feet and boots, Sylvain twisted himself on the spot and faced out through the open doors with a somewhat pained expression, positioning himself just-so that if he concentrated especially hard, he could forget that there was a towering, almost-naked, Kzin, sharing the same confined space as him.

He would be cordial as always, but there was no pretending that he was especially comfortable with their circumstances…

Whilst the Kzin’s somewhat relaxed demeanour in the face of their interaction had done something to soothe his nerves, Sylvain was still very conscious of his presence, especially as he sensed the man moving around behind him… How exactly did one forget to put clothes on? Sylvain had never once left his quarters without checking every pip, every bootlace, adjusting his combadge a minimum of eight times, and surely sickbay were under obligation to issue him some sort of coverings? The thought of just strolling around the ship, sans clothes, was a truly alien thought; nobody else had so much as seen his upper arms since he had to share his quarters on his Cadet rotation, and that had been a hellish experience in itself. The thought of having his full body on display for anyone to see was… Distressing.

Thankfully however, Sylvain understood that Kzin’s nudity probably wasn't a result of any debaucherous intention, as the man had stated, and as such, made his best effort to relax his stance at least a fraction. He elected to shift his footing ever-so-slightly, angling his body just barely towards the Kzin, in his best effort to appear a trifle more open than he was actually feeling, though his hazel eyes quickly found themselves affixed to one particularly fascinating spot of the turbolift wall. Jokes or not, the threats of being eaten weren’t overly reassuring, and Sylvain didn’t think he had ever had someone talk about balls being busted in a professional conversation…

What sort of Humans had Mr Lok been spending time with? Sylvain privately wagered that it was probably a phrase he'd picked up from some of the non-commissioned officers; he'd found that they always seemed to have a flair for slightly cruder language...

It was only at that stage, contemplating the finer details of what busted balls exactly meant, that the somewhat flustered Ensign remembered that the man had offered introductions...

“Gosh, I’m sorry…” He apologised immediately, snapping his entire body in the Kzin’s direction as he did so, irrespective of his personal concerns regarding the nudity involved, in his best attempt to try and recover any of the professional courtesy that he had so far been lacking. The man had introduced himself as 'Chief', and whilst Sylvain wouldn’t personally have introduced himself using his position as a department head, that didn’t mean that the Kzin wouldn’t have done so; most people were proud of their assignments after all...

“Ensign Llewellyn-Kth.” Sylvain responded with his most polite tone, speaking as formally as possible, shoulders straight and chin up, swinging his soft hazel eyes up to Mr Lok’s height as he did so, keeping his neck comically strained as to ensure his vision was focused solely on the Kzin’s head, and not anything that existed below the neck… “Sylvain, if we’re being informal, but I tend to prefer my surname when I’m in uniform…” Glancing down at himself, he reminded his brain that he was, in fact, not in uniform. “So, I suppose that Sylvain’s fine for the moment…” He tried to disguise his embarrassment with a watery attempt at a joke, glancing back up towards Mr Lok in the process, inadvertently drawing his eyes across the man's entire body.

Sylvain blanched.

With his head so overtly tilted upwards towards Mr Lok’s own, he’d completely missed two things. One: the Kzin had kindly donned the simple bathrobe that he had been carrying, which immediately acted as a salve to Sylvain’s increasing anxiety concerning the circumstances of their close proximity. Two: the man had, at some point, extended a large furry hand to Sylvain, outstretched in an offer of greeting, driving the levels of Sylvain’s briefly controlled discomfort straight back up into the red… Sylvain was completely unsure of when the Chief had chosen to extend his hand, and thus had no idea how long the Kzin had awkwardly been offering him a handshake...

Handshakes were a greeting type that lingered outside of Sylvain’s comfort zone… There were enough day-to-day tasks that prompted his psionic abilities to trigger, and even more so that prompted his brain to believe that his psionic abilities had triggered, that ignoring physical touch just came naturally to him. Perhaps it was because it was such an alien sensation to him, to be in physical contact with another being, or perhaps it was a genuine trigger that caused the precognitive centres of his brain to jump into overdrive, but either way, the act of physical contact with another being almost always sent droves of intrusive thoughts whirling into his psyche. Truthfully, he found it gravely uncomfortable that so many Federation species had adopted physical contact as a form of greeting; his time on Vulcan was rapturous in that he hadn’t needed to awkwardly explain his aversion to physical contact every time he met a new person…

Yet now, he didn’t find himself in possession of such a luxury of being able to whip out a Vulcan salute and be done with it... The Chief had been holding his hand outstretched for an indeterminate amount of time, Sylvain had already been extremely unprofessional on account of his singing, and the last thing he needed was to be seen as disrespectful by someone who may or may-not have been a fellow department head… His time to consider the implications of such things was limited, and as such, in a moment of haste and panic, Sylvain hurriedly extended his own hand to meet the Kzin’s, his own personal preferences on the matter be damned…

He regretted that quickly.

The second that he had pressed his hand into the Kzin’s warm grip, a flash of scorching heat rushed across Sylvain’s face, shocking the Ensign with its intensity, plasma-hot, burning brightly against his sensitive skin as his entire body twisted under the weight of a sudden barrage of debilitating emotions. He couldn’t tell whether it was just the overwhelming sensation of touching another person, or an allusion to some sort of future embarrassment that he might yet have to look forward to, but either way, his body found the experience to be thoroughly nauseating. His stomach lurched suddenly, as though the floor had given way beneath him and he was falling straight downwards, whilst his ears rang with a deafening numbness, his whole brain fuzzy like cotton wool as he tried his best to isolate the new thoughts from those that had already existed; tried, and failed.

It was a dreadful accumulation of sensations, a combination that swallowed Sylvain’s psyche in a dizzying miasma of heat and nausea, one that made the turbolift spin and his body ache as he weekly attempted to ground himself. It was an imperceivable blur of feelings that left him blinded to how long he’d actually been holding the hand of the Kzin; perhaps barely a second had passed, or perhaps he’d been locking the other man into a death grip for a few seconds as he’d lost himself in his own mind. Either way, as soon as the thought occurred to him, Sylvain hurriedly withdrew his hand from the greeting, his breath trembling as his whole body shuddered, the dizziness causing him to stumble for a moment as sweat began to break through upon his brow… A harrowing encounter only made worse by the distinct knowledge that the whole ordeal had just been witnessed by someone else…

“Apologies, Sir…” He breathed, swallowing down the stingingly painful sensation of burning, the echos of which still rippled across his pale skin. “Mr Avander…” No, that wasn’t it either… “Chief Lok.” He confirmed a third time, his addled brain slowly resuming standard operating procedure and recalling the information that he needed, a little too late for him to save face, but necessary regardless. “I…” Truthfully, his abilities were a topic he preferred to keep close to his chest, the conversation following him admitting that his species had the capacity to see the future, always being one of the same few questions that, frankly, he wasn’t in a fit state to answer.

His interaction with Mr Lok, as much of a distraction as it was, hadn’t dulled him to the realities of his upcoming mission, and whatever might lay beyond that. As much as the singing helped remove the implications of his assignment to the Erudite from his focus, as much as being anxious about Mr Lok’s nudity had diverted his worries elsewhere, he was still somewhat conscious that the next few days would be the most trying time he’d thus far endured in his life… As small a thing as it was, having someone ask him whether he could tell them the outcome of their mission to the Hobus Star, might well break his psyche like an egg…

“I’m sorry… My species possess, some psionic abilities…” Sylvain made a pointed gesture to his head as he spoke, indicating to the spots that spanned the side of his temple. “... and I find that mine tend to get a bit, agitated, by touching other people.” He pressed a firm hand along the front of his tee-shirt, as if to push out the non-existent creases, before straightening himself up and trying to ignore how pink his face must have looked to the Kzin. “I don’t really do handshakes usually, I just didn’t want you to think I was being rude…” He humbly admitted, making eye contact with the man, before lowering his head out of a sense of self shame. “I've not exactly been my most professional self this afternoon…”

He really was making a mess out of his first hour aboard the Theurgy…

“I think my quarters are on Deck Ten, but I don’t know exactly where…” He abruptly changed the subject, conscious that the Kzin probably thought he was a lunatic and wanted to escape the situation immediately, something that Sylvain could at least try to accommodate. The Ensign pivoted his body once more to face the open doors of the turbolift, inconceivably thankful that nobody else had yet arrived to witness his rather shocking lack of composure… “Ah... What direction are you heading in?” He added, somewhat meekly.

If he survived this mission to the Hobus Star, he'd have to remind himself to send Mr Lok some tea or something as an apology... Did Kzin drink tea? He wasn't particularly sure; there had been an Earth feline called Mr Sterling aboard the Boleyn, that had occasionally jumped up onto his table and lapped at his drinks and tried to steal his food, but he didn't expect that Kzinti could be held to the same standard as Earth felines...

“I don't suppose Kzinti like tea do they?”

He could have punched himself in the throat at how easily the question slipped out of his mouth.

Idiot.
93
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 4: S [Day 1 | 1810 hrs] A Friend Indeed...
Last post by Dumedion -
[PO2 Cora Davison | Biological Laboratory Quintus | Aft Tertiary Research Deck | Erudite] Attn: @TWilkins

The Intel analyst busied herself, quite hurriedly, with several tasks while Sylvain recovered; first and foremost, she slapped the air purification device over the bridge of his nose – as soon as she could, anyway – while attempting to keep him calm and quiet. That wasn’t happening, not that she could blame him; knowing they could be revisited at any moment – likely by an unfriendly Savi tech that would also very likely blow any chances she had of completing her mission – the analyst backed away and searched her surroundings frantically. The lab, if it was indeed such, and not a secret house of horrific experiments just waiting for an opportunity to eat them both alive – was littered with tech and devices she had absolutely no idea how to use or identify. Her head snapped over a shoulder while the Ensign continued to make a ruckus, willing the Savi not to hear them.

“I’m so sorry, deep breaths, deep breaths, alright,” Cora tried to sooth him while she worked to dig the tricorder out of her satchel; a useless mantra, but spoken with earnest. It really was unfortunate how things had played out so far – not at all the way the analyst intended – but in her line of work, more often than not, the road to hell was paved with good intentions. That knowledge didn’t stop her from berating herself mentally for getting them into this mess, however, nor did it change the priority of the mission at hand...

Still, Cora was keenly aware of the stinging guilt that grew in her stomach. She knew what she was getting into, and hadn’t planned on keeping Sylvain in the dark – not permanently, anyway – but all that had to be thrown out the window now. So stupid, her dark chocolate eyes narrowed down at the tricorder, attempting to sync into and decrypt the console built into the examination table. Brilliant, Cora, really, she continued, as her fingers deftly keyed in commands, only glancing up periodically to assess the Ensign. “You alright?” she asked, clearly worried, only for him to start babbling incoherently.

“You what,” Cora tilted her head at him, confused. The tricorder bleeped negatively. She couldn’t crack the algorithm without the necessary understanding of Savi syntax – but downloaded the raw data with a mumbled curse anyway – and moved closer to him with a shh gesture. “Not so loud, we – oh,” her head snapped back to where the door the Savi used, and spotted a tablet device that rested on a workstation. “Just a sec,” she turned back to Sylvain, who seemed to be gathering his wits, or trying to, then ran – a tip-toed, awkward shuffle, hands up at her sides like she was trying not to fall on ice – to snatch up  the Savi’s PDA. “Hello lovely,” her tricorder was clamped to the device an instant later, set for full analysis and synchronization. Better work bloody fast, Cora huffed, just as Sylvain found his voice again. She caught the words alert Commander Leavitt, spun around, and repeated the same absurd half/run, half/shuffle back to him, mouthing the word nooo the entire time.

“Are you mad? What’re we to tell him, then? Sorry, we got muddled up in a Savi lab while takin’ a walk? We don’t even know where we are,” she whispered rapidly a few steps from him, but didn’t stop. A hand grabbed him by the arm, the one so close to tapping his combadge, and pulled him along. “Listen I’ll explain everything, but we have to go, quick time, march,” Cora patted her hands for emphasis, and made a bee-line for what looked like a maintenance hatch; a place to lay low while her programs broke into the PDA.

If there was even anything of worth on the bloody thing, Cora frowned.

“Please trust me,” the analyst asked emphatically, waving her hand over the opening mechanism; the waist high chrome portal slid open , revealing a tunnel lit with luminous bundles of what looked like biomechanical wires – their purpose and function unknown. “I’m…I’m with Intelligence,” Cora grimaced comically, as if that would explain everything. “Ugh, that sounds so stupid,” she added in a cynical mumble.

The door on the other end of the lab hissed open, the sound reminiscent of a blade sharpened by a whetstone. Cora breathed out a hissed curse, then grabbed Sylvain by the hand and started stuffing him in the maintenance tube. “Get in, get in, hurry hurry hurry,” the analyst pleaded, even as she squeezed herself in after him. Once the portal sealed, Cora panted and groaned at their new surroundings. She was pinned at an angle on her back, her limbs tangled up with the Ensign, who looked very uncomfortable – wadded up in the tight confines – his back to the ceiling, rear up, aimed at her, while his head dangled nearly between his knees. “Shh, quiet,” she whispered, then held her breath and listened.

Any other time, Cora was quite sure the two of them would look positively hilarious; maybe one day they would share a laugh about it – but she rather doubted it – judging from his expression. The luminous wires built into the tube’s walls pulsed with blue-tinted white, like a eerie heartbeat. A few minutes passed, and nothing else happened. Cora felt her neck cramping up, and tried to straiten herself out, but couldn’t move much without kicking or hitting Sylvain. Donning her best sympathetic but wholly authentic smile, the analyst quietly apologized once again.

“Right. Shall we sort ourselves out then,” Cora croaked ruefully, and managed to lift a finger and point down the tube which led to a larger opening a few meters in. “Perhaps...have a sit in there, before we both cramp up and knock out again? Reckon I owe you a decent explanation, but…it’s rather hard to breathe at the moment.”

94
Director's Cut / Re: [2374] USS Hamburg: Meditate on the Way of the Targ
Last post by Dumedion -
[PO3 Kino Taer | J’rovia Reclusiam | Ruins of the Main Librarius | 2374] Attn: @JacenSoloDjo

Bolts of polaron energy snapped overhead, while others impacted close enough to shower her in sparks. Kino lay on her side, ass pressed into the small rubble wall of makeshift cover and grunted a curse before lifting her rifle up to fire blind, hoping to suppress the Jems back into cover. Her ears picked up the LT’s arrival, but couldn’t spare a glance just then; not until her pack ran dry. The non-com did note the obvious pain in the woman’s voice, poorly hidden behind humor; a valiant attempt – one Taer appreciated, all things considered.

Might be hope for her yet, the Trill thought with a twitch of her bloody lips while she swapped out her rifle’s power pack; the snort offered in reply only forced her to gag and choke on the blood from her broken nose, however. Kino spat out a wad of it, then sat up, rifle braced, searching for targets. “So far, so good,” Taer answered in a slurred deadpan, her voice just as gravely; coarse from yelling and breathing dust, not to mention nearly getting throttled to death.

The Jems had either cloaked or fallen back, Kino couldn’t tell, but the sporadic fire had trickled to nothing; her rifle and gaze stayed out, searching, while the others conversed. Somebody squealed out in pain; field dressing, Taer figured, wincing in sympathy. She took a second to pat herself down, looking for blood; somehow, she hadn’t been hit – not yet, anyway – but she knew there’d be pain enough in store for all of them regardless. She repeated the process for a quick equipment check next, then stole a hurried glance at the LT’s question.

Anywhere but here, was Taer’s instinctive, barbed reply, but the Trill’s jaw clenched tight instead; a rare moment of self-control, while she thought it through. The hell’s left? The TOC’s a hole, OPs are gone, her eyes darted around the makeshift perimeter they’d created, thinking. Old coms tower? she guessed, turning her head over a shoulder to look. It was busted and broken before, now it was barely visible at all, over on the other side of the gaping hole where the TOC once stood. If they could reach it, it might work – if it was still there.

“Was a,” Taer started, but another coughing fit took over; she spat more bloody spit to clear her mouth out, a knee drawn up underneath to steady her position. A sharp twinge of pain flared in her chest; bruised or cracked ribs, maybe. “Comms tower, my six o’clock, ‘bout four hundred meters. Was a rally point, but it might be rubble for all I know. You’d have to skirt along the crater to get there – through the ruins. Gonna be close work,” Kino warned; not thrilled with the idea, but the situation was what it was. They had to move. “Jems are probably crawlin’ all over lookin’ for us now.”

Gotta be a better option, Kino shook her head. It was getting harder to think. Adrenaline could only do so much, and only lasted so long; as the lull continued, the non-com felt the aches and numbing pain creep in.

“Or,” the non-com added, “y’make for LZ Mortalis; we used it t'lift bodies out b’fore w’lost contact w’the Novo. Due west of the complex,” her hand pointed in a knife edge, “‘bout 800 meters out, built on a hill – only one in the valley, can’t miss it – but the tunnels are likely non-vi, so you’d haveta hump it out in th’ open,” her eyes flicked to the LTs, one clear, the other bloodshot and bruised. “It’s an elevated position, one way up. Y’don’t look like you’re in th’ mood for a run, though – matter of fact, y’look like shit,” she tried to laugh, but grimaced at the attempt.

Something sharp was digging into her hip, which forced Kino to shift her attention. A hand reached down, expecting to find a rock, but dug up half a compacted repulsor-stretcher instead. The handheld device was charred black, but looked to be functional. Kino tossed it to MacFarlane, ignoring the wet, dirt caked blood on the LTs flank. Worst case, the others could move faster with Mac on it than dragging the LT – best case, Mac could use it as an improvised crutch under her own power, if she was that stupid and stubborn. Taer gave it 50/50.

“Call it quick LT, we’re burnin’ daylight,” Kino nodded to her, winced, then resumed over-watch, rifle up and panning for threats. “I’ll stay back an’ cover y’ guys. Long as I can.”

[Meanwhile, in orbit…]

Veyat Three gripped the console before him as the ship shook under another assault. He was quickly loosing his patience. “Why isn’t that ship destroyed,” he demanded calmly. “I fail to understand – were my orders somehow unclear,” he sighed, turning purple-hued eyes upon his First.

“The enemy’s defenses are holding, sir. It is a Galaxy-class cruiser, more than a match for two attackers,” the First responded neutrally.

“We have three ships, do we not,” Veyat’s eyes narrowed at his own rhetorical question. “Recall the third, immediately.”

“Sir, our ground forces –“

“Are expendable. We have ample supply lines in place and can always breed more reinforcements,” Veyat smiled coldly. “I want that ship destroyed, now. Once that task is completed, we will continue to retrieve any troops that remain alive on the surface,” the Vorta moved calmly to stand right in front of the massive Jem’Hadar, to peer up into its eyes with contempt. “And when I report to the Founders, I might omit your unorthodox behavior,” he warned, “so long as we understand each other.”

“Understood, sir,” the First closed his scaly eyes, head bowed respectfully.

“Good,” Veyat Three smiled pleasantly, “very good. Such harmony is but one of their gifts,” he exhaled, then took a step back to return to his station, features blanked as if the happiness and joy he’d just expressed had never existed at all. “Now we shall teach it to our foes - crush them.”

Through the tactical headset, the Vorta watched as his ships swarmed and ravaged their larger prey. The Federation vessel’s shields lit up under the multi-angled assault, rolling in an attempt to track the far more agile hunters. Lances of burning energy streamed out, striking one, only for it to come under fire from the other. Veyat smiled confidently as he watched the third attack ship rise up from the dusty atmosphere to join the fray, adding its own fire into the engagement a moment later. Even as the hulk fought for its life, it was only a matter of time before it grew too wounded and too exhausted. It’s corpse would slowly fall, weeks or months dead, to burn up over the worthless world it failed to protect; just another sad lesson for a sad, savage people.

A pity, Veyat mused, but, such sacrifices must be made. “We will make an example of them,” he lifted his chin proudly. “Once their defenses are crippled, concentrate fire on life support and living quarters, while the other ships focus on critical systems.  Let them bleed to death while we burn them from the stars. Perhaps others will learn from their folly,” the Vorta shrugged in doubt, but in truth, he couldn't be bothered to care either way.
95
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Chapter 2: DIS Engage [ Day 1 | 1259 ]
Last post by Nolan -
[ PO Kythalie Benmual | Engineering | Deck 26 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @rae @Brutus @Relatively Insane @RyeTanker
Sarresh was a sight for sore eyes perhaps as Kythalie looked him once over. He attested to her steady hands and before the Betazoid knew it, she was drafted to join Sarresh to save the ship. She let the rest of the security contingency move on and listened in to what had to be done. The room was filled with emotion as her mental barriers struggled to keep out the loud thoughts that were echoing throughout the engineering deck.

 Benamite crystal containment was the task at hand it seemed and Kythalie was backed by Sarresh that her steady hands would get the job done. No pressure. The caramel skinned woman followed the lieutenant to the slipstream chamber, a shared smile between them before the ship nearly tossed them around. Whatever was going on outside, it was nasty, very nasty... Kythalie was steadied by her forearm by Morali and she smirked and pointed out in a hushed tone to him "You do know I can take care of myself right? Though I appreciate the gesture." a sly wink followed before they made their way up the ladder.

When the new horrifying alarm set off, radiation was the last thing Kythalie needed right now. In hindsight, she might've been better qualified to tackle Azrin instead of Sarresh, though she had been given another crucial job that had to be done. She made her way up the ladder skipping one handle at a time before she sprinted off to the slipstream drive to retrieve the Benamite crystal. How she was going to perform this with steady hands was a mystery to her. Surely on a steady ship it shouldn't have been an issue, yet here with the rocking and tossing... She exhaled as she ignored the order to suit up, this was a major priority. This had to be done.

Sarresh's sprint to intercept Azrin proved to be successful, in a way. Kythalie soon found herself behind the console and double checked the input given by Azrin. All of it seemed fine, besides the fact that the safety protocols hadn't been activated yet. Kythalie glanced at the recommenced settings and what Azrin had keyed in, though instead of pressing no, she hit the yes button and watched the forcefields activate in just a second.

With the security measures in place, she glanced over to Sarresh and gave him a nod before she entered the slipstream drive, edging closer to the Benamite Crystal to retrieve it. Here's to hoping that no other shock or explosion would cause her to lose balance or anything of the sorts. Her fingers clasped around the crystal and slowly but steadily she began to retrieve the crystal.
96
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 4 S [ Day 01 | 1915 ] The Remains of a Crew
Last post by Dree -
Ensign Sash Kreshkova | Unnamed Cell | Alternative Asteroid Station | Romulan Space | Attention @Ellen Fitz

Sasch blinked her large blue eyes.  She wasn’t sure how much time had passed as she had listened to Ehfva.  It kept her mind occupied and off of other matters.  But now the Vulpinian was asking her story.  Her story?  What did she have to say?  The green-haired young-woman thought for a moment.   Once she gathered her thoughts, she started.

“Vhen I vent to zhe Academy, I turned my back on my Papa.  I kept in touch vizh my my mama, but not my Papa.”

Sasch looked over at her companion.  "My Papa is zhe head of TacCon - zhe place vhere fighters are trained, and I vanted to be a fighter.  But, of course, everyone knew who my Papa vas and zhought he vas helping me, so I stopped talking vizh him."

Sash’s eyes welled up.  "I love my Papa, Ehfva.  I hope he knows zhat I love him.  I vant to tell him zhat I love him.  But I needed to stand on my own two feet.  I needed everyvone to know zhat he vans’t giving me special favors or tutoring sessions or helping me in any vay. "

"But I made a friend.  His name is Armand, and he took me under his ving.  He stopped people from discussing me behind my back.  He saw my potential for what it vas.  He gave me space to breathe.  He gave me zhe chance to excel and to vork hard.  I proved zhat I had talent on my own, and he recruited me into Nova squadron - an elite flying group." 

"But after I graduated, my mom sent me on vacation before I vas to report to TacCon, and ve vere picked up by Tal Shair and zhen ve vere rescued by zhe Cayuga.  And zhen zhe Cayuga vas attacked by zhe fiends zhat haf us now."

Sasch shrugged.  "Zhose are zhe most important parts of my story."
97
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 3 : The Meeting of Heroes (or Villains) [ Day 1 | 1500+]
Last post by Nesota Kynnovan -
[Ensign Jaya Thorne | Bridge Crew Mess Hall | Deck 01 | Vector 01]
Attn: @Ellen Fitz, @Brutus, @Stegro88, @Dumedion, @P.C. Haring, @JacenSoloDjo, @Juzzie, @GroundPetrel, @Eirual

As they walked towards the turbolift, Jaya could quite honestly relate to Kelistina’s problems. During the height of the Dominion War she’d once found herself stuck on a Klingon colony; nothing related to the larger conflict, but mainly because of overdue maintenance finally taking its toll on her beat-up old freighter. The Klingon mechanics who performed the necessary routine overhaul were just as bad as the bootleg parts they were forced to use due to equipment shortages, maybe even worse in fact, and to this very day the brunette Denevan sometimes found herself surprised that she managed to even escape the planet’s gravity in one piece without stalling and plummeting back down. While she stepped into the turbolift, Jaya pushed that thought out of her mind and, as she nodded in silent reply to the Zaroodian, instead focused on a possible way to help the woman.

Jaya was still contemplating how she could possibly help Kelistina when the turbolift doors opened. Her first instinctive reaction was to disembark without looking, just like she always did, but when the red-skinned woman spoke up there was something about the woman’s tone of voice that instinctively put the brunette Denevan on alert. As the other woman quickly moved away from the doors towards the opposite end of the turbolift, Jaya peered around the doors and into the corridor. The sight she was presented with however, immediately made the hairs on the back of her neck rise up and, at that point, she realized why Kelistina had been so distressed.

Right in front of them, laying in the corridor, were three motionless Starfleet Officers. From what Jaya’s eyes could see, there was enough blood sprayed all over the walls and floor of the corridor to make it painfully obvious that this was far from a natural occurrence.

Within mere moments, Kelistina suddenly moved out of the turbolift to check up on the two Officers nearest to the doors. Instead of immediately calling for help however, Jaya immediately followed the Zaroodian and moved to the Officer furthest from the other two. That particular Officer was wearing the yellow uniform of Starfleet Security and, as Jaya kneeled down next to him, she immediately realized whose blood it was that was sprayed all over the corridor. From what she could see, the man’s thick muscular neck was already turning into a bruised shade of deep purple; almost as if someone had exerted a huge amount of pressure to break it but somehow failed. A closer examination presented Jaya with multiple deep gashes across the man’s equally muscular lower arms and big hands. The index-, middle- and ring fingers of the man’s right hand were cut straight down to the bone, as if he had tried to defend himself from a sharp weapon, and the knuckles on both of his hands were chafed and bruised; the man had clearly put up an incredible fight from which his attacker hadn’t escaped entirely unscathed either. From what Jaya could tell, whoever had assailed the Security Officer had managed to slash their blade across the right side of the man’s neck and severed his carotid artery in the process, thus sealing the man’s fate.

It was only at that point that Jaya noticed the rank pips of a Lieutenant Commander and connected the dots; the man in front of her was the Chief of Security, Lieutenant Commander Kai Akoni. While she had never met the man in person, his reputation as a tough-as-nails Security Officer had preceded the man and, in the end, it seemed like that reputation was well-earned. As she shook her head in despair over how a man like Akoni could end up getting killed like that, Jaya realized what Kelistina had told her earlier before they left the turbolift and quickly tapped her combadge. ”Thorne to security, intruder alert!””

Several seconds passed following that call but, instead of hearing the intruder alert activating, there was just an eerie silence that was only broken by her own heartbeat. Twice more did Jaya repeat her call, only to be met with the same result before she looked back at Kelistina. ”I’m not getting through…” While she spoke, Jaya attempted to smirk as to hide her growing fear, but it failed miserably. Looking back down at Kai Akoni, as if he was the one who held the answers, Jaya breathed a deep sigh before her brown eyes noticed something.

The death struggle between Kai Akoni and his unknown assailant had been so quick and unexpected that the bulking Chief of Security hadn’t had the chance to draw his phaser. As it was, the weapon was still holstered on the man’s hip; the black holster still magnetically sealed by the bio-coded lock that was designed to prevent non-Starfleet personnel from easily yanking the phaser out of the holster. Before enlisting in Starfleet, she’d made the mistake of trying something similar and it had very nearly earned her a beating as a result. However, she was a Starfleet Officer as well nowadays, which meant…

Jaya pressed her right thumb onto the top of the holster and, without even as much as a sound, the magnetic lock disengaged; allowing her to silently unholster the weapon. ”Kel…” Now she had a weapon, Jaya kept it trained onto the corridor without taking her eyes off the unknown ahead. Her voice definitely betrayed a strange mixture of determination and fear now. ”Call the turbolift back. I will shoot anyone who comes at us while you do.”
98
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 4: S [Day 1 | 1810 hrs] A Friend Indeed...
Last post by TWilkins -
[ Ensign Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth | Biological Laboratory Quintus | Aft Tertiary Research Deck | Erudite ] @Dumedion

Sorry ‘bout this, mate.

Sylvain wasn’t fully conscious. Since he’d made the request to be taken to sickbay, the words leaving his mouth as easily as the heaving wretches that had wracked his body with spasms, he’d been stuck in a limbo between the conscious and the unconscious; not fully aware, but not entirely unaware either. It was a tumultuous place, ringed with enough consciousness to identify the absolute mortification that he felt, at the knowledge that he had wretched and gagged himself stupid in the Common Area, dripping saliva and bile all over the Savi’s floor. Equally, he could still feel the sting of embarrassment that he’d all but knocked himself out on their bulkhead, and the burning humiliation of having to request a visit to sickbay for actions entirely self-inflicted, whilst their ship hurtled towards a battlefield…

Truthfully, his actions hadn't been all that becoming of his rank or position...

But whilst he did retain some recognition of his emotions, the limbo also served to blind the rest of his senses, to keep him numb enough that he remained mostly imperceptive of the events unfolding around them, his mind processing his thoughts whilst his body became a ragdoll, thrown through an ordeal whilst remaining predominantly unaware of the particulars. Mostly and predominantly, being key words in highlighting his ordeal.

Whilst he hadn't been fully aware of what was going on around him, he’d been conscious enough to identify a vague series of events. At least, he thought he had; semi-conscious awareness was right up there with daydreams, on the list of things that were inconceivably confusing to someone with precognitive capabilities... Still, there were a few things that stood out above the haze that sometimes masked a premonition, a few sensations inflicted upon his body, movements that had happened against his will…

He recalled that something had repeatedly thumped into the sides of his chest, thundering into his ribs and then withdrawing, time-and-time again, until another unseen force had pulled him from their clutches. Then, the sensation of being dragged through some indiscernible distance, a motion that had left him perhaps even more nauseous than the scent that had perturbed his nostrils before; being dragged through an unfamiliar alien Starship, whilst the entire universe was spinning like a centrifuge, was disorienting, to say the least. A lurch had sent him hurtling through space-time, after which he’d fallen from orbit onto a hard surface, before he’d been dragged, once again, across miles of cold floor, his body threatening to tear apart at the seams as he was manhandled in every-which direction, hoisted and heaved with no grace or dignity, as one might treat a slab of meat, rather than a…

“HUARGHKRRRRK!”

The noise that fled his throat was unnatural, but warranted, given the circumstances. His consciousness returned somewhat abruptly, igniting his neurons just at the right moment for Sylvain to get to experience, with perfect clarity, as something disgustingly long, thick, and slimy, was abruptly wrenched out from his windpipe. It felt infinite, pulled from his body like an old-time nautical vessel hoisting an anchor from the depths of the sea, sliding across his lips like an abyssal worm emerging from his mouth. It was wet, slippery, foreign. His body was all too happy to assist with the dispelling of the foreign entity by attempting to vomit once again, atrocious gagging sounds squeaking out from around the sides of the tube as it exited his throat.

“HURAGH-ARGH!” The retching that exited his lips as the final inch of the tubing escaped his mouth, was even louder than before, his entire form lurching forward as Sylvain’s body made an abrupt jolt from a lying position, to sitting upright at almost ninety degrees, involuntarily flexing almost every muscle in his torso and delivering him a cacophony of agony in the process. “ARAGH!” The gasp was voluminous as it escaped his throat, his body slumping back down onto the hard surface below him instantly, his abdomen shrieking with a diabolical ache in response to his involuntary contraction of muscles, the impromptu work-out hitting him like a photon-torpedo to the gut.

“Argh…” Everything hurt.

And Sylvain wasn’t a stranger to a bit of physical pain; he’d been on the Parrises squares team at the Academy for crying out loud, he could handle a bit of pain... But this ,was different. It felt like he’d taken a shuttlecraft to the gut, all while someone had jammed Klingon pain-sticks into his ribs, unleashed a plasma torch down his throat, and kicked him in the head a few times for good measure…

Still, he forced himself to endure the pain for a moment as he attempted to gather his bearings, sucking a hiss of air into his battered body, and counterpointing it with a ragged exhale. The Ensign attempted to occupy his mind with the task at hand, trying not to think about the discomfort surrounding his torso as he forced his tear-stained eyes to open. Sylvain had been optimistic, hoping to see some sort of sickbay-adjacent facility, maybe a couple of Starfleet officers in teal undershirts, some sort of confirmation that he was in a location intended for rest and recovery, as opposed to anything more… Well, anything more Savi…

Unfortunately, the room appeared to be the latter.

The room was once again a drab spectacle of white and chrome, a harsh light burning down upon him from the ceiling, illuminating the somewhat alarming lack of variety in the colours of the room; if it hadn’t been for the black, grey and red uniforms of he and Cora, who lingered at the end of his bed, it would have been a wasteland of white-on-chrome carnage. Centred in the room were several examination tables, whilst the space beyond the tables was packed with dozens of consoles, monitors, pieces of equipment, tools, all of which were objects unfamiliar to Sylvain. As his eyes flicked back above him, his hazel irises swallowed by his widening pupils, he stared up into a disturbingly scientific bouquet of lights, sensors, scanners, and an untold amount of technology foreign to his eyes, though he had no doubt that the array was not something he wanted anything to do with.

His eyes returned to Cora, as he began to attempt to slide himself off of the table, manoeuvring himself onto his side, swallowing the pain that rippled through him as he did so. It took him a moment, but Sylvain managed to slip his left leg out from under him and down into open air, booted foot clacking against the floor as his right leg swiftly followed. From there, his torso naturally pursued, hoisting himself onto his feet with a gasp of pain, his body weight braced into his left arm as he managed to set himself into a standing position, the pain forcing a hiss of air from his mouth, like sitting on a very old chair. He was slightly hunched as he glanced at Cora again, forcing a ragged breath into his lungs as he tried to find a way to get his bearings on their situation

“W-whe w-whe aww-aww..?” He began, before he halted his attempts, in realisation that his tongue seemed almost completely unresponsive to his instructions, its numbness becoming even more apparent as he consciously tried to move it within his mouth. “W-whe-ruh, aww-ruh, we…?” He forced, overemphasising his letters as he desperately pushed past the fact that his tongue felt like a foreign visitor in his mouth, and tried not to dwell all too much on the somewhat sweet taste that was lingering around his palette like a ghost... He’d certainly had precognitive tastes before, they were never fun; most of the time he seemed to seemed to change the future by chasing whatever phantom taste had graced his tastebuds in the premonition, leaving him thoroughly unfulfilled… Yes, he'd learned to ignore any precognitive event that manifested itself as taste...

Unless, this wasn’t that?

A whirlwind of alarm overtook him before Cora would have had a chance to speak, immediately glancing down at his hands with abject horror peering through his eyelids as he did so. He stared down at his pale-skinned fingers with such intensity, that he threatened to vaporise the digits, relief bubbling up within his chest as he did so, though nowhere near enough relief to counteract the ascending panic in his soul. He hadn’t changed colour at least, he hadn’t fallen victim to some Savi experiment and turned green; Sylvain knew that he’d make a terrible Orion, all that hedonism would be far too uncomfortable for him…

Still, he couldn’t check his spots without a mirror, of which the room surprisingly had none. Thankfully however, the indecent amount of chrome served that purpose wonderfully, Sylvain taking a ragged pace over to the examination table that Cora had evidently occupied, and almost melting with relief that in place of any unwanted facial ridges or additional orifices, he was greeted by a familiar reflection… Still,  his relief was limited. He was in an unknown medical lab on a Savi ship, he had no idea how Cora and himself had arrived there, and after Commander Cross’ briefing on the Savi's proclivities for genetic resequencing, Sylvain didn’t intend on taking any chances…

Perhaps the gas he had smelt had been some biological weapon, a nerve agent designed to incapacitate Cora and himself in order to extract them from the Theurgy crew’s population as efficiently as possible; perhaps his Yattho biology expediated the process? The Ensign had to credit the Savi for their ruthless ingeniousness; they’d certainly chosen their candidates well. Sylvain hadn’t interacted with any of the Theurgy Crew since coming aboard, and he didn’t imagine that Cora would have had much chance to do so either... Since they were both new to the crew, only having arrived that very afternoon, they no doubt wouldn’t immediately be missed by their colleagues, especially with the imminent battle occupying everyone’s attention… Then, even if they survived the conflict, they could easily be mis-recorded as casualties following the battle, left in the Savi’s clutches as the Starfleet crew departed back to the Theurgy, damning them to lives of torment and modification forever…

Not if he had anything to say about it.

“We fould…” Sylvain began, turning back to Cora whilst trying to appear as authoritative as possible, a difficult task considering the aggressive lisp his numb tongue had gifted him; he was the ranking officer of their pair, and thus it was his duty to get them out of their predicament as soon as he could. What exactly he should do however, eluded him for a moment; Sylvain was hardly someone equipped to deal with a hostage situation… And then a brainwave hit him. He might not equipped to deal with such a situation, but the Theurgy had sent over a whole team of tactical officers to the Erudite for the mission, and Sylvain was sure that at least one of them, would know exactly how to handle something like this; he was pretty sure that he overheard someone mention that they also had a diplomat aboard, in case there was room for negotiations with the Savi.  

Sylvain felt a triumphant smile blossom onto his face; they needed to alert the chain of Command, just like Starfleet taught them to do. Maybe it was too early to give up on such ideals after all.

“We fhould ale-ruh-t Command-eruh Leavitt.” His sloughing speech was all but humiliating, and he wouldn't have been shocked if Cora hadn't had a clue what he was trying to vocalise at all... Instead, purely on instinct, he reached for his combadge, intending to alert someone to he and Cora’s predicament as soon as possible, somewhat ignoring the possibility that whoever he tried to communicate with would also have to contend with his slurred speech, and instead focusing on his goal of escaping their predicament as soon as possible.

Though on account of the fact that his right arm was suddenly screaming with pain, he hadn’t been able to make the manoeuvre from his hand to his combadge, quite as quickly as he would have liked…

 
99
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 3 : The Meeting of Heroes (or Villains) [ Day 1 | 1500+]
Last post by JacenSoloDjo -
[ Bridge Crew Mess Hall | D. 1 | V. 1 | 2000 hrs ] Attn: @Eirual‍ @Nesota Kynnovan‍ ‍  @AbsintheDeux‍  @Brutus‍  @Stegro88‍ @Ellen Fitz‍  @GroundPetrel‍ @P.C. Haring‍  @Nolan‍  @Juzzie‍

Kath found herself internally glad that everyone had stopped looking her way and seemed to be absorbed in their own conversations and that everyone was still playing nicely. She noticed the doors opening and closing on the other side of the mess hall but she noted the general lack of panic behind the movement and the fact one was wearing Starfleet 'colors'. So she dismissed the situation as needing her notice.

<What is it that you do on this ship?> Sang'tew' asked and Kath had to admit that was a fair question. And then she nearly burst out laughing because honestly she hadn't been given a chance yet to actually do anything to begin with besides fling her things into her new quarters and get dressed for this 'shindig'.

<We'll see eventually, I guess,> Kath started joking then paused. She shrugged her shoulders before, <I was Security and now here I'm Tactical. It's kind of a lateral move, really. But one I was prepared for and waiting for. The recruiting brochure said less ground patrol and guard duty if I move to Tactical so I figured why not?>

That was also a joke. A bad one. In all honesty she had never disliked said 'ground patrol' or 'guard duty'. But being Tactical meant there was more work on the Bridge which meant a foot in the door for a diagonal move to Command. Though that was likely a number of years into her future but she was... ironically, trying to go by things tactically when it came to promotion and moving up the chain of command. You made yourself indispensable on the Bridge, you got noticed.

Kath made a face when she went to take another drink of her bloodwine and found her glass to be empty. Again. She would have an internal monologue about slowing down on the alcohol but honestly she knew from experience she could probably get another two glasses and still be just fine for going on official duty. Not that she would ever actually admit that to anyone higher than her on the food chain, of course.

<Ahh, that is similar to what I used to do before I became an adjutant. Then perhaps you might be the one to consider speaking to about possible sabotage?> Sang'tew noted the empty glass in Kath's hand then realized her own was identically empty. She could hardly remember drinking much of it.

Kath felt a record scratch moment in her mind at that 'S' word she had been trained to always be on the lookout for. To say nothing of the fact she had training to cause some of it herself. Her brows furrowed before brown eyes flicked over and up to her Klingon companion.

<What sabotage? Where?> her tone was still neutral but now she was like a dog on a scent, ready to lead the way to the perpetrator.

She earned a giant shrug for her pointed questions.

<It's been rumor mostly. But then, a situation like this... a lot of people jumping at shadows.>

That did not reassure her at all. Her jaw set as she considered her options, her gaze sweeping the area around her. This was an unprecedented situation in about five different ways. Her fingers twitched and her hand moved as if to reach for a phaser she didn't even have because she wasn't Security (anymore). Though, she did have her backup on her ankle but that would kind of be noticed at this point in time.

Instead, Kath meandered her way to the table again and refilled her drink then quietly moved closer to the Klingon side of the room, as it were. The problem, of course, was she knew absolutely no one else in this part of the ship personally and going by rank was not always the best way to go about things. You didn't talk to a communications officer for a Security issue, as it were. The Klingons she really only knew by sight because of her days on Deep Space 18. But she did see a flash of very human forehead in a sea of sagittal crests. Perhaps things were already being worked out and her last minute addition to everything kept her out of the loop? She stayed nearby, however, just in case there came a reason to volunteer for service. 

A shrug then before she glanced at Sang'tew'. <You realize of course how often rumor of dirty deeds floats about the Empire?> Kath asked, as if more to reassure herself the issue wasn't as urgent as she felt in her gut.

<This would be the perfect target,> Sang'tew' replied instead.

Great.

OOC: Shrugs I'm talking to myself again because Kath decided she wanted to play sheep dog, I guess. 
100
Episode 02: Cosmic Imperative / Re: Ch 3 : The Meeting of Heroes (or Villains) [ Day 1 | 1500+]
Last post by Eirual -
[ Kelistina Kavot Droga | Corridor outside Bridge Crew Mess Hall | Deck 01 | Vector 01| “Helmet” ]
ATTN: @Brutus @Stegro88 @GroundPetrel @P.C. Haring @Nolan @Juzzie @Ellen Fitz


Kelistina kept walking towards the lift to escape the crowded mess hall. The small female had followed her suddenly as if she too were attempting an escape. Kelisitna glanced down at her companion, “My ship in little pieces,” she replied forlornly, “be no more to fix. Kling-onz parts not work so good in Zaroodian ship.” She took a breath, “I try learn fix here, this place now.” She ducked her head as the lift doors opened and she entered, “Take me deck home of 11.” She wasn’t really looking for a teacher, so much as she wanted to feel useful. Turning to Ja-ya she smiled slightly, “maybe I learn good, I stay help nice ones. Kling-onz try hurt not help. No like.”

The lift doors closed and the Zaroodian braced herself. It always made her nervous that the little box would fall with her in it and not stop till it broke out the bottom of the ship. When the doors finally opened, the lift was on deck 4 and she stepped out, only to find she was not on the correct deck and that something bad had definitely happened. Blood covered the deck and the walls, “Tokarit!  This not be right. Much bad here!” She moved off to the side of the doors as she surveyed the corridor in front of her. Two bodies lay only a few feet from her, one male one female, another a female lay another 2 meters down the corridor. That one she recognized as one of the fixers she’d been watching. “You call, get help here,” She said as she moved to check on the still lifeless forms nearby.

Tokrit – Son of a bitch

OOC: From what I recalled from the initial chaos for this, coms won't work, and not sure if the lifts will either. Have to assume it did or they would have crashed into the other one.
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