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.”
Last post by P.C. Haring -
[Lt. Cmdr. Hathev| Crew Berths | Deck 1 | USS Allegiant | Aerodrome of the Erudite ] Attn: @Pierce @Griff
For some reason, Hathev felt a sense of pride when she caught Alana's eye. That, of course, had not been the intention but the decades of experience taught the Vulcan about unintended cossequences. Prior to her emotional awakening she would not have permitted this display, but since then and especially since her retreat on Qu'Nos with Cross, she was starting to learn to "roll with it." So, as the discussion continued between the three of them, Hathev pulled up the replicator data files on Romulan wardrobe.
Much to her surprise, Hathev found a rather extensive database, a development she credited to Lillee as she began scanning through her options. During the Dominion War, Hathev had crossed paths with a few Romulan soldiers during then off duty hours and her idetic memory instantly recalled what the women had been wearing. She took that as the basis and began filtering down her search.
After a few minutes, she had designed herself an olive green full body unitard. Although the upper body of the garment was form fitting, the lower half loosened up and flared out a bit making the garment a bit more practical appearance that she could wear it in public without every fold in her crotch present for all to see. She edited the collar to come to the base of her neck, added a maroon pleather cargo vest and an appropriate pair of walking boots before calling Lillee over for her opinion on the selection.
Enyd had been looking forward to this conversation with about as much enthusiasm as an injured person looks forward to having their bone reset. But she’d drawn the proverbial “short straw” from the stack for who would talk to who about dealing with the Romulan leads connected to the murderous interruption to their dinner.
Brigadier Natauna was already deployed with a makeshift team to investigate among the Klingons, taking with her Ensign L’Nari and Crewman Lourdes from the Diplomatic Department, Ensign Lewis and Bennett from the Intelligence department, Crewman Lewis from Security, and Crewman Courtland from the medical department to aid in the investigation. As far as Enyd knew, this team was either already off the ship or just about to depart, with Colonel Hauq awaiting them on one of the Klingon carriers with the one captured still-breathing saboteur in their brig.
The team for investigating the Romulan leads was likewise already formed, though they had yet to deploy as Enyd had yet to talk to the head of the team. Petty Officer J’olan and Crewman Wilde from her department were already briefed and ready, and Lieutenant Ahn-Le had opted to take Ensign Samuelson with her from Intelligence. Lieutenant Rhys Williams had been more than a little confused about his assignment but when told of who would be leading the team and given a little background information on said team leader, he’d settled into his presumed role as counselor and mediator well enough. He chose Crewman Lewis to accompany him from Medical, with the addition of Ensign McArthur from Security just as a precautionary measure. Now, it was time to talk to the leader of this Romulan investigation loop. The final piece in their “whodunit” puzzle. The Romulan aide, Jaeih something or another, was already waiting for the arrival of their team aboard the Romulan flagship.
Enyd winced as she recalled how the dinner had ended so dramatically after such a promising beginning. While no one in the mess hall had killed each other when the intruder alert cut through the pleasantries, anyone who had been mingling on the “other’s” side of the room quickly dispersed back to their side with more than a few murmured curses and threats. It’d taken Stark, Enyd, and a number of others quite a time to calm folks down enough to reassure them they weren’t trying to kill everyone and then adjourn to their respective corners. In under an hour, they’d relayed what they knew of the attack, including the number of their fallen and the damages caused by the saboteurs. This had worked to assuage the Klingons marginally more than the Romulans once it was clear Theurgy crew had died. Apparently, the Romulans still found this suspicious, and likely because, given the right circumstances, they’d kill their own to make a point.
Enyd pinched the bridge of her nose. The feasibility of this alliance working beyond the immediate crisis was growing more and more difficult to picture. The Klingons were divided amongst themselves, increasingly so, on how to deal with both the Romulans and the Federation, with the Theurgy’s presence offering another variable to contend with. As reports from the attack against the President herself poured in over the feeds, whatever distrust and disquiet Klingon leaders had toward supporting Theurgy and remaining as firm a Federation member as they were amplified. Among the Romulans, whatever reports they were receiving regarding the attack against the President and the evidence of civil discord among the Klingons was fueling their already hyperactive wariness nerve, and now they spoke in more complex roundabout riddles than when they’d first arrived. Enyd had never really gambled much, but if she were more of a betting woman, she’d bet that the minute Theurgy and the Martok’s combined forces worked to remove Tal’Aura from the Romulan chess board, Donatra would gladly turn her back on them, and potentially even her weapons.
Granted, Enyd wasn’t “allowed” to say such things to her subordinates, not as a department head. They needed to see that she was still committed to maintaining this alliance—and she was—and that she still believed they could successfully stave off Tal’Aura’s attacks through this alliance—she would like to believe this. There was so much to do and so little time to do it in before the shit hit the proverbial fan, and that was why she was standing here staring across the bit of space that separated their ship from the nearest Romulan vessel, dreading the conversation she was about to have.
“I was told you wanted to see me.” His familiar, raspy voice curled around her spine and sent a shiver through her body. Enyd glanced at the reflected image of the former Romulan mercenary, briefly admiring his physique, before she turned to face him. “Regarding a mission.”
Enyd folded her hands in front of her body to keep from flapping them around like a flightless bird. She found, failed, and then succeeded in keeping the images of their almost time together on Qo’Nos from her mind, very much aware that her thoughts and feelings were an open book and an influential one to the enigmatic man standing in front of her. Keeping her eyes focused on a spot on the wall just over his shoulder, Enyd relayed what she knew of the circumstances, what Stark had conveyed as her hopes as a result of the investigation, and the names of his future teammates. Drauc listened without expression, his body as still and controlled as always.
“I am to lead this team through the investigation among the Rommulans, seeking out the saboteurs only? Or is there something else?” He angled his head as if daring her to withhold her own misgivings.
Enyd sighed. “I have concerns that Donatra will betray the alliance as soon as Tal’Aura’s threat is eradicated.” Drauc nodded as if this was common knowledge. “If you find proof of this being fact and not just my own fears, anything that can help to protect Theurgy in case she does turn…”
“Understood.” Drauc maintained eye contact for a heartbeat more before asking. “Anything else?”
“Professionally? No. Personally, I could say ‘be safe,’ but I trust that you will do whatever is necessary to ensure mission success even if it is detrimental to your own self.” Enyd’s features softened. “Even so, I do hope the best for you. For all of you.”
Drauc nodded, placing a hand over his chest in a semi-formal bow. “So do we all.” Turning, his finger paused just shy of the door console. “Be at peace, Madsen.”
Enyd nodded to his back, watching him quietly as he stepped back into the corridor and disappeared on silent steps. Letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Enyd fell back against the window at her back. At least she hadn’t had to use a mental spray bottle to keep images of his nude flesh from her mind during their conversation.
[Madsen to Stark.] It was time to update the woman who had to keep their puppet show's strings together. NARRATOR: During the subsequent missions to investigate both the Klingons and the Romulans, it was discovered that the treachery lay at multiple levels within both “allied” groups. With evidence pointing to foreknowledge of the saboteur’s identities among the inner circle of Donatra’s group and a lingering sense of discontent toward Martok fueling the continued internal dissension among a few of his leading military men, it was determined to play their “cards” closer to their chest moving forward. While Martok appeared to remain a genuine ally, Donatra’s sincerity was further questioned.
Several Theurgy crew went missing before either mission could be considered a success. Among the missing were Ensign L’Nari, Lt. JG Anh-Le, Lieutenant Rhys Wiliams, Brigadier Natauna, and Drauc T’Laus. The surviving crew noted and appreciated their sacrifices as their efforts laid the groundwork to maintain alliances and secure a peaceable future.
Reggie groaned in her seat as she and Logan continued their reconnaissance patrol maneuvers. Since shit had gone south at the reception, she had needed plenty of time to think. Not about the Klingons, or the Romulans, or even the hostilities that were likely to erupt. No. Her thoughts wandered to T’Less of all people. She hadn’t even shown up, and it seemed that the more they tried to re-connect, the more the universe around them conspired to prevent that from happening. Reggie wasn’t sure if that was a sign that she should give up or if it was an opportunity to continue and develop her patience. Still, it steamed her to not have any reliable sense of where this relationship of theirs was going to go.
[Gemini,] Wraith said over the comm. [Are you picking up anything on long-range comms?]
Her first instinct was to chastise her wingman for such a silly question. If there were a transmission coming in, it certainly would not be on the long-range channels, and it certainly would not be directed at her or Logan. Yet his voice communicated sincerity, and while she hadn’t known him for long, she knew Logan well enough that he didn’t screw around.
“Nothing on my end, but then again, I haven’t been looking. Standby.”
Reggie switched over to the long-range communications array, and instantly her board lit up. The carrier wave was weak, and there was considerable interference, but it was certainly an intended transmission.
She brought the nose of her ship around. Wraith remaining formed up on her and as they flew in the direction from which the transmission was coming, the signal grew slightly stronger until the interference cleared up enough for them to establish a trace lock.
“Holy shit,” she said as the computer read the metadata of the encrypted signal. “It’s from the Apache.”
[That’s good news, isn’t it, Gemini? Doesn’t that mean they were successful?]
Reggie tried to access the message. “Not necessarily. The data is encrypted, and we don’t have the ciphers on board. We will need to get this back to Theurgy. How far out are we?”
There was silence on the line before Logan replied. [25 light minutes from the Den].
That was too far out, Reggie decided. Yes, Theurgy had stronger transceivers than their fighters and could cut through the interference easier than she could. But there was no telling how much more badly degraded the message would become if it traveled the remaining distance. She made her decision.
“Alter course and re-set your transceiver settings to max. We are going to relay this thing through the fighters back to the base. Hopefully, we can give it the boost it needs to arrive.”
They lay in their course while Athen made the adjustments and opened the line to Theurgy.
“Wolf-13 to Theurgy. Gemini to Commander Stark. We’re receiving an encrypted transmission from the Apache. It’s badly garbled, so we’re going to relay it to you in real-time. Tell the folks in Intel to stand by.” NARRATOR: Unbeknownst to Gemini and her wingman, or even the Theurgy itself, in fulfilling their objective to scan the rings of Ba’Ku, Captain Jackson and the crew of the Oneida went missing. With no responses to Starfleet hails or personal contacts alike, the Oneida and her crew were listed as missing in action, with a full-scale investigation launched from Starfleet headquarters.
Meanwhile, the science and intelligence departments aboard Theurgy could decrypt the message from the Apache and piece the data together with the information sent from the Oneida, successfully breaking through the mystery on how to adjust their shielding to better protect against thalaron weaponry. While untested in battle and unknown if it was an exact application of the data, this information was subtly shared with Martok, with a strategic delay enforced with informing Donatra of their success. The intentional delay was enacted as a result of evidence that some saboteurs involved in seeking to destroy this fledgling alliance had come from within Donatra’s close circle.
Kythalie's shift had ended her up at the battle bridge security checkpoint. Carrying a type II phase pistol and a type III phaser assault rifle, Kythalie's eyes went over each person that entered or left the battle bridge. The tension in the air was volatile, that much she could tell. It wouldn't be long now before they'd arrive at the Triangle. As more officers began to flock onto the battle bridge, the moment was nigh. A slight sensation was the only thing that indicated the drop from warp. They had arrived at their location and would soon, hopefully, meet up with the other parts of the Theurgy since they were in MVAM mode right now.
That hope was soon squashed, though, as a red alert sounded throughout the ship. As the doors of the battle bridge slid open once more, Kythalie could overhear the chatter.
"Sensors are picking up a large force of vessels dropping out of warp now!" One officer exclaimed, at which another confirmed, "A carrier group, it seems. Scans confirm that they are Romulan."
There didn't seem to be a sign of the others so far and Kythalie's mental barriers began to strain as the thoughts of so many people on the bridge were becoming louder and louder. She glanced over at her fellow security officer, who was glancing over at her. They both couldn't do much about the situation besides doing their duties. With the carrier strike group appearing before them, it wouldn't take long before a space battle would ensue.
"Sensors are picking up additional ships dropping out of warp." One of the officers exclaimed, "It appears to be the Ranger."
This was the conclusion, which meant that Vector 3 wouldn't be on its own in a fight. Said fight wouldn't last long against a full carrier group...
Then again, Kythalie wasn't sure how much longer they'd survive with two ships and a contingent of fighters. They needed the others...
They needed them now.
"Tal Aura's forces have raised shields and are preparing their weapons to fire!"
This was the start of it. Another day that would be filled with death, pain, and suffering. Hopefully, they'd come out of this fight alive and without too many wounds. Though wounds were going to be made… NARRATOR: By the time Tal’Aura’s carrier group arrived at the Triangle, the Ranger and the Erudite had returned and Theurgy crew successfully shared its decrypted knowledge on necessary shielding adjustments to counteract the Romulan thalaron weaponry. While freely shared with Martok, a strategic delay in relaying their success with Donatra was enforced. When Donatra was finally informed of their success, a few hours before Tal’Aura’s forces arrived, many within her inner circle expressed a desire to withdraw from the alliance altogether, seeing their own strategic advantage against both Klingons and Starfleet jeopardized now that they knew of how to shield from thalaron radiation. Donatra, however, remained stalwart in her decision to remain at the Triangle alongside the Theurgy and Martok’s forces, far more interested in the time being with destroying her political rival than in squabbling over future advantages.
“Alright.” Said Vanya. “Can I trust you, at least for now?”
The woman nodded. “I... want to tell the story, but I think that we don’t have time.”
She shot a bitter look at the corpse on the floor. “Suffice to say, he killed the only person who I ever loved, and the death was completely covered up.” She looked back at Vanya.
“My lover was shy, artistic, and he wouldn’t hurt a single person. For his murder to be unanswered, I can’t live in a state like this.”
Vanya wasn’t about to kill this stranger who had helped her, and chances are she would be discovered for what she had done. And yet, if she followed Vanya to the Federation, it would be tough.
She put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I was sent away – not by choice, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. But its not easy. Being away from all that you have known, seeing the ideas that you have been taught as real are proven to be false, or unpopular. You could turn around now and run and say that I killed him and live your life.
“I want to help. Zoin was my love, my world, my life. This… is nothing to me without him.” Vanya wasn’t sure that this stranger knew what she meant. However, her first point was the most important they didn’t have the time.
“Alright… if I know my crew, they are already getting the data that we need. We need to make it easy for them.”
“Easier said than done.” The unnamed Romulan said. “They will already be on us… wait… I need to access that console.”
Vanya held up her phaser. If this was some bizarre trick or game, then she would quickly step in. With a single look, she gave her a sign that she would be able to stop her if she showed a single form of betrayal.
“I’m a low-level data technician. When one of these pigs file the wrong report, they come to people like me.” She said. That certainly explained the fact that she didn’t take out Vanya as well as the apparent killer. “I was here when they installed this system. Sure, there are parts I can’t access… but a few permissions weren’t quite deleted when the system came online.” The young girl's fingers moved like a pianists on their keys, an artist doing her thing. Finally, Hundreds of alert klaxons started to go off. Vanya watched as a rotating wall of personnel photos filled the screen, each with the word “Wanted” on their photo.
“I have uploaded the base roster, minus myself, into the wanted criminal's database. Now, every crewman’s clearance code is uploaded to the system as wanted criminals. They still have weapons, but the few automated defenses we do have won’t tell friends from foes. Oh, and the shock of having hundreds of criminals on board will probably overload the system.”
Vanya was still worried. More ships could still be on the way, and someone might be able to put everything back where it was. Still, it was a start. She tapped her combadge. “Vanya to all personnel. I suggest an immediate retreat back to our evac points. I’m bringing a defector that might have just made this shindig a lot easier. NARRATOR: The young Romulan’s efforts proved fruitful, indeed, and, combined with the continued efforts of the other three teams still deployed on the Romulan station, madness and chaos among the Romulan forces increased to bedlam levels. Lieutenant Vanya was not the only member of the infiltration team(s) to come across a defector willing to sell out their comrades for an escape off the station and out from under the authoritarian rule of Tal’Aura and the Tal’Shiar. It seemed discontent lay within the hearts of many…
~~
[ Lt Reika Sh’laan | Maintenance Corridor | Romulan Space Station | Romulan Space]
As soon as Reika heard the words, she activated her comms. “Triggers have been found. Everyone, we’re evacuating now. Let’s move!”
She moved to the hallway, supporting the rifle with both of her hands as best as she could. While the pain of her injury had been deadened, her arm was only functioning at 75% capacity. As she peeked around the corner, she saw a Romulan holding a phaser rifle on a member of the Theurgy crew. She didn’t hesitate. She simply shot the Romulan in the back - right between the shoulder blades. “We’re heading out,” Reika called to the member of their crew and tipped her head toward the exit. Reika had seen the crew member before, but she wasn’t sure of her name.
But as crewmembers headed for the doorway in which she stood, there was a crackle in her helmet followed by an unfamiliar voice. “Lieutenants Ashby and Sh’laan. This is Petty Officer 3rd class Kaudia Cheung.” The woman rattled off a correct authentication code and stated that she was from Starfleet intel. After more necessary background information, Reika heard what the woman had called to give them in the first place. “I’m currently coordinating with my team to bring them to a shuttle bay twelve decks up from you to secure transportation for extraction…Please advise on your intentions, as my team has been ordered to join you for your return to Theurgy.”
Reika paused for a moment. So this was how they were going to get off this Romulan monstrosity. But twelve decks? That was a lot and everything could go wrong between here and there. But seeing as how they were dropped off, Reika knew that this was their best chance.
“I copy you Cheung. We’ll meet you at the shuttle - assuming we can get there.”
To the rest of the group with her, Reika turned to face the ones that she could. “In order to get off the station, we need to head twelve decks above us. Starfleet Intel is waiting to get us off. Let’s see if we can find us the equivalent of a Romulan Jeffries tube and climb our way out. Let’s move people!”
Something in her had switched back to her Tactical training. She stepped outside of the doorway and pointed her rifle in the opposite direction of where the others were headed. Once everyone was out of the room where they had found the triggers, Reika took off at a jog after them. One by one, she saw the crew members disappear into what she could only assume was a Jeffries tube. Bringing up the rear, she slipped her rifle around to her back and ducked into the aperture. Doing her best to hold on with one hand and wrench the door shut with her hurt arm, she winced. With one more pull with bad arm, she was able to get the entrance closed.
It was then that she looked up. This ladder appeared never-ending. Checking out the deck number written on the inside of the door, she started up after the rest of the crew. Right arm and foot, left arm and foot. Right arm and foot, left arm and foot. Over and over. They were only six decks in, and Reika found it hard to continue to push herself. Whatever pain reliever Ashby had given her was beginning to wear off, and the pain in her injured arm was growing by the moment. The more the pain grew, the less she was able to effectively use it.
She looked up again. Everyone above her was still climbing. She paused, trying to catch her breath. She groaned loudly as her injured arm loudly protested against further movement.
“Breath, Reika. Just breathe.” She did heed her own advice. “Get off your ass, Lieutenant,” she told herself. “You can do this. You have to do this.”
But as her self-pep talk died on her lips, she heard the metallic clink of a hatch opening, and looking down, she saw a head of dark hair and angular eyelashes looking up at her. “Shit,” she said as she saw someone climb into the ladder with them. “Move i,t everyone. We have visitors on our six.” Sure they were a good six decks above them, but with Reika’s arm, this was going to be a race to the finish.
She shouldn’t have found it amazing that she was now able to move better than she had before. Nothing like your life being on the line to put some umph in your step. Reika climbed - just one rung at a time, but each rung was one closer to her destination. After another deck or two, she looked back down. The Romulans were gaining on her.
She activated her comms. But as soon as she did, she started back up the ladder. “Cheung, the first of our people should be exiting a hatch near you shortly,” Sh’laan paused her speech for several large gulps of air. “We took a ladder up, but some Romulans are hot on our tail. I’m bringing up the rea,r and my arm was injured, so be ready for a quick takeoff once we’re with you.”
Once again, she drew a breath quickly. Two decks left to go. She didn’t want to waste time looking down to see how close the Romulans were; she just climbed as quickly as she could. When she was only one deck below where they were exiting the hatch, Reika’s bad arm gave out, but she caught herself with her good arm - well, it was her good arm before she wrenched it to catch herself from falling.
Her feet searched for a rung; it was a good three seconds before she found her footing again. Her eyes glanced down as her feet tried to gain their footing again. “Damn!” she said.
The Romulans were only about two decks below her as she placed her feet down and started up again; this time, a shot hit the inside of the tube just to the right of her head. “Oh, shit!” She had no time for any injured arms - let alone two. Pain was no longer a factor; living was. She was only several rungs below the opening. Another shot missed her by inches. By this time, someone’s head emerged above her and offered her their hands to help hoist her up.
It was a good thing they had because this time the rung on which her feet were planted had been hit and gave way, but by this time she was pulled through the opening. Sh'Zahn had a tight hold on her. Reika nodded her thanks. Once she was sure Reika was on her feet, she slammed the hatch shut and wedged a piece of metal across the door. If the Romulans got through, it would take them a while.
With Sh'Zahn helping her, they made their way to where Cheung was waiting for them. Without a word, they - the last two of the group entered the shuttle. Whoever was piloting wasted no time detaching the docking clamps and getting the group away from the station as quickly as possible. NARRATOR: Unbeknownst to Sh’laan, a total of three members of the infiltration teams would be killed before successful extraction, including Asst. Chief Intelligence Officer Amarik, Lt. Tek, Lt JG Martin, and Lt. Okafor, with another requiring medical attention and stasis once they reached Theurgy again, namely Lt. Rez. While they’d managed to successfully obtain the information they’d come for, it was not without the loss of valued crewmembers and friends.
~~
[CPO Dominic Lau | Maintenance Tubes | Romulan Space Station | Romulan Space]
TIME: Day 2, 0200hrs
Chief Lau and Bessir alternated between crawling and descending as they moved through the station. The Intel chief mentally shook his head ruefully as he thought about the sequence of events that had led him to this point. The entire operation was a failure since there had been nothing remotely covert since the operation on the station had fallen apart. Now, they were on another station, making their way out after leaving a mass of wreckage behind. This wasn't a covert op; this was mayhem. It was a positive; they were so good at it since he wasn't sure how likely he was to be able to get on another covert operation after this. Maybe his boss needed an excuse to pull him from the field. That would be unfortunate.
That happy thought carried him to a level with a junction that had a full-size door when Cheung's voice came in over the comm system. "Okay, Chief. That's the door you need to exit. I'm still making my way down and guiding a few other groups toward the shuttle area. Just a heads up. The Theurgy group has evac'd the station on their ship, but we can use several runabout-type shuttles to get everyone out."
"Acknowledged. How long till everyone is out?" The Chief queried as he unslung his rifle. Bessir did the same shortly after landing like a cat.
"I'd say maybe about five more minutes, Chief." The tech specialist estimated. "Oh. By the way. The Romulan security team that was chasing the Theurgy crew is standing nearby to the left of the door, aboouuuuut 15 meters away."
Chief Lau nodded at this data. "Got it. See you soon." Looking at Bessir, the two gave each other a grin.
"Flash and boom?" Bessir nodded.
"Sounds about right. On 3?" Chief Lau plucked a grenade off his belt while the sniper pulled a flash bang. "Of course. 1...2....3"
The sniper hit the door control, revealing a mostly intact corridor beyond. A quick look confirmed a gaggle of targets, and an underhand toss delivered the pyrotechnic device into the midst of the group. Chief Lau tossed the armed explosive grenade to the halfbreed, and the bomb soon followed as both men opened their mouths and covered their ears for a moment. An explosion and screams followed, and the two men exited the maintenance junction with rifles raised. The two swiveled their eyes quickly, identifying those who had escaped the blast. A few were trying to crawl somewhere, anywhere to escape the devastation visited upon them, and the operatives shot them before moving on.
With the bay secured, Chief Lau and Bessir waited for everyone else to show up. It didn't take long, and the Chief moved to split the group amongst as many of the ships they could steal before giving the order to launch. NARRATOR: Though the Chief did have a point, this was a terrible excuse for a covert mission, it was not a complete failure as a mission. The infiltration teams had been able to secure the data necessary to transmit back to the Theurgy at the Triangle, they had picked up a few defectors willing to share secrets and support as the teams beat a retreat to their respective evac points, and a few members of the infiltration teams had managed to “borrow” some extra technology and data, to be studied later when they were running for their lives. Altogether, it wasn’t a failure, but for someone whose focus was on subtly, it was indeed an embarrassment.
Kestra took in a deep breath as she fitted the mask over her nose and mouth. Almost immediately, her vision became less loopy and more realistic, a sensation that all but confirmed her suspicion that her perception problems were due to some kind of psychotropic hallucinogen the Romulans had inserted into the air. Although she couldn't know for sure, the Trill suspected the Romulans might have used it as a countermeasure against their incursion. No matter. The call that the trigger data had been recovered came through, and all the teams received verbed evac orders.
According to the data Cheung had fed her before she lost contact, Kestra was closest to the Apache, a support ship from Theurgy that had ferried blue and red teams to the outpost. She had lost contact with the Mary Baldwin, the freighter that had brought her, Lau, Knox and the others. Given the ship's state when she had disembarked, Kestra did not hold out much hope the ship was still in one piece.
Fortunately, Cheung had had the opportunity to perform the required IFF handshakes so the Red and Blue teams would recognize the crew of the Baldwin, Purple Team, as friendlies. Still, she was glad for the opaque mask as it covered enough of her face that she could avoid questions and confusion about why she looked like one of their pilots for just a little longer. At least the cuts and wounds she had sustained bled Trill red and not Romulan green. That, at least, should buy her a little credibility that she wasn't a Romulan spy. It didn't take her long to board the Apace once she arrived at the extraction coordinates. Already, there were a handful of Federation crew aboard, and she wasted no time stowing her weapon and getting out of the way.
[Pren, you there?]
Kestra's hand shot to her combadge. "Cheung! Damn, it's good to hear your voice. Thought you were gone."
[Not Quite, though we came close.]
"Status?"
[The Baldwin is gone. We had to find other transportation out]
"Do you need support?"
[Negative. We commandeered a Romulan runabout. Even managed a quick sweep to beam over some of the personal effects. Didn't get everything. Best we could do, though.]
She didn’t give that any more thought. Saving personal gear was nice but hardly a priority. Plus, the only thing that mattered - her research and orders- were on isolenear chips tucked into pockets inside her tunic.
Outside, weapons fire drew her attention as more people boarded. The Romulans were not giving up so easily. Kestra had no idea about the tactical capability of this ship, and she suspected the Romulans could track their own Runabout, even if it were cloaked. They had gotten the data they wanted. But it was useless they were all killed before they got back to their ship... her ship now.
"Cheung," she said as she pushed gently through the growing group of people boarding, "none of this is going to mean a damn if we don't get the data back to Theurgy. We need to send them what we have now!"
[No good L.T. The Romulans have jammed all subspace frequencies. We only have short-range comms.]
"Can you break through?"
[Maybe. But the window won’t be that big. The data stream will have to be compressed.]
"How small?"
[Small as you can make it.]
The deck shuddered beneath her as the engines came online, and the Apache began to withdraw from the ravaged station.
"I think we're on the move?”
[You are. We're matching course and speed]
Again, the deck rocked, but this was far more violent. Kestra recognized a weapon strike when she experienced one.
"Cheung. Get on it. I'll work on the compression.”
Kestra was no communications officer, nor was she an intelligence operative, but her time during the war had left her with more than a few tricks up her sleeve. Still, between the unfamiliar interface on the console, the rocking from the attack, and her own sense of urgency, she slipped up far more times than she cared to admit. Her first attempt only achieved a 10% reduction in size: Not enough, according to Cheung. According to her, they needed at least 40%. She reprogrammed the compression algorithm. It wasn't perfect, she knew, but the last time she had used this one was years ago-and on the unfamiliar interface, she couldn't rely on muscle memory. This attempt yielded better results but fell short of the mark at only a 27% reduction.
"Damnit." then, she remembered the subroutine she had forgotten. Being such a small part of the overall process, it was easy to overlook. But with the way it functioned within the algorithm, it could provide such effective results. She keyed it in and ran the algorithm again.
[L.T., this is Cheung, I hope you're ready with the data stream. I’ve managed to cut through the jamming, but I don’t know how long I can keep it open.] The algorithm was completed, achieving only a 32% reduction.
"I don't know. I'm not at 40 yet."
[Send it L.T! When I lose this, I won't get it back] She didn't think when she pressed the transmit button. The progress bar cycled as the data was sent back to the Theurgy. It progressed faster than she said track before it blinked out, only to be replaced by a message indicating the connection had been lost. [I just lost the frequency L.T. Did you get the data stream sent?]
Kestra looked at the blank screen. 'I don't know.” NARRATOR: Though they would not know of their success until much later, the combined efforts of Cheung and Pren did indeed work to get the data stream sent. It would take quite some time before the Theurgy received the data. However, it would prove to be a type of deux ex machina, giving Theurgy and her allies the necessary edge to face Tal’Aura’s encroaching forces.
~~
[ CPO Knox | Somewhere inside the Romulan Space Station | Romulan Space ]
Knox was running down a long hallway towards what he hoped would eventually provide him with a way up a few levels to the hangar bay when he went splat. Actually, it was the whole station that went splat. The violent shockwave that ripped through the station was so strong that it threw Knox against the wall hard enough that he reflexively reverted to his liquid state to avoid injury. He turned into a pasty orange splat on the wall and then oozed down to the floor in a state of bewilderment. Knox’s mind raced. Had he caused this explosion? He racked his brain, thinking about all the things that he had caused to go boom on the station. Nothing would have been this awesome! Then he remembered the Mary Baldwin. “Oh!...Right…The warp core…”
The glob of murder orange juice slowly took on the shape of a humanoid again, then eventually took on the features of his female CPO Knox form, complete in her Starfleet uniform. She steadied herself as aftershocks shook the station further. It felt like explosive decompressions were running along the edge of the station. Well, if speed was necessary, Knox knew how to go fast. Bending over to pick up the lightning-thrower weapon and a spare charge pack, Knox prepared to speed run this station and get to the cool ship she wanted to steal. With another heavy series of thuds from explosive decompressions nearby, Knox sprinted to a door and forced it open. Running down the next corridor at a full sprint, Knox ran into a group of Romulans also fleeing from something. More monsters, maybe? Knox didn’t care; she just wanted to get to the hangar quickly now. Her kill count was sufficient for an outing, but these easy targets fell into her lap.
Zap! Zap! Zap!
The bolts from this handheld lightning thrower arced out towards the unsuspecting trio—white hot energy crackled with a tinge of blue at the edges. The three Romulans didn’t have much time to react. Their bodies going ridged when struck, then shaking like being electrocuted to death. Because they were being electrocuted to death, all three fell on the floor, smoking and twitching in a small pile. Knox bent down and had a good look at each of them. Just in case she wanted to take on their visage at a later time. Then it was off to the races again. Running down to another door to find a small service hatch.
Inside the service hatch was a ladder that led either up or down. Knox believed that the closest hanger was up from where she currently was. So, up she went. Keeping her eyes open for anyone else who might want to use this ladder. The short climb up two decks was uneventful, but the ladder went no further. Having to find another way to continue, Knox unslung her new favorite mega taser and prepared to show the Romulans the meaning of haste.
The second door that Knox came to had a heap of dying Romulans in it. One of those awesome monsters was lying dead at one end of the room, surrounded by body parts. A few decapitated corpses were near it also. Probably the thagomizer. Then, some had been hit by phaser fire, or maybe they were choked to death. Either way, it was a scene of carnage. Knox stepped lightly over the bodies on the way to the door on the far side and saw a few intact corpses. In a passing thought, Knox decides to imprint another Romulan or two to impersonate. This one is a strong and mostly intact Romulan male whose uniform pants have been slightly pulled down. Knox examines his genitals so as to be able to impersonate a male of the species fully. Her eyes went wide in shock as she looked at his manhood. “Ridges! They have ridges on their cocks?”
Knox yanked down the pants of 3 more Romulan men to find the same thing. All of them had ridged cocks! “Damn, those lucky Romulan bitches! That has to feel better than a smooth dicked human!” She exclaimed. Then, a thought hit her. All the females she had imprinted on. What if their insides were not exactly like a human female? Setting down her weapon, Knox stripped the lower half of a Romulan woman who had been bisected with her top half missing. Ramming a hand that turned into an orange liquid inside the dead female’s lower half, Knox found out that Romulan women were slightly different inside than human women. It's not much different, mind you, but it's just enough to get caught on a mission that required her to be ‘Deep’ undercover. Pulling down the pants of 3 more girls just to make sure, Knox took imprints of their love canals so she could really play the part of a Romulan female if the need arose. All of them had similar variations that set their meat butterflies apart from human women.
Just then, with her hand shoved up a dead Romulan woman’s gnome canoe, the door slid open as a Romulan man and woman walked into the room, catching Knox in quite the act.
“Uh…It's not what it looks like.” Knox said quickly in Federation standard. The two had a horrified look on their faces and were not convinced at all by Knox’s lame reaction. Raising their disruptors at Knox, the officer shouted, also in Federation standard, “Why the fuck are you here?”
Surprised and happy that at least some Romulans can speak something she understands, Knox smiles broadly. “If you don’t shoot me, I will tell you exactly why we are here and what our mission was.”
The two give each other apprehensive looks and keep their disruptors aimed at Knox, with her hand still shoved up a dead Romulan woman's slime pond. “Well. What was your mission?”
Knos slowly pulled the orange imprint of the dead girl’s roast beef sandwich that she had taken, ‘For Science,’ was careful to have the hand reform as it came free not to let the two hot heads with guns know that she was a changeling. Then Knox answered, standing to her full height and raising her hands, with correct anatomy, over her head. “We were sent here to steal something. Not sure what. My job was to create chaos on the station as a diversion.” While speaking, Knox grew a skinny tendril out of her heel and wrapped up around the handle and trigger of the lightning thrower.
The anger flared on the faces of her two foes as they hefted their weapons to fire. But Knox was faster on the trigger from an angle they didn’t expect.
Zap! Zap!
The first bolt hit the man she was speaking to in the lower stomach, and he doubled over with what sounded like a Wilhelm scream. The next bolt struck the woman in her side, and she bent sideways, causing her weapon to discharge wide and miss Knox. Both fell to the ground with a series of twitches as the lights overhead blinked rapidly with the energy overload. While the two Romulans finished their death ‘A la Electric Boogaloo’ in the most groovy rave fashion, Knox heard voices from others coming down the hallway after them. It turns out they were not alone. His disco of death was over, with the lights returning to normal and the twitching stopping. Knox grabbed the lightning thrower and sidestepped to get into the deep pocket of the room, ready for close quarters combat.
But that is when things took a turn. Just as the rest of the team entered the doorway, the pressure in the room dropped, and the air rushed out the open door. Knox was pulled towards said door rapidly and caught a glimpse down the hallway. The station had opened up all the doors leading to the outside vacuum of space! Reaching for the door controls to override the system and close the door to the room, Knox got a glimpse of the gaggle of Romulans being sucked down the hallway and around the corner, out of sight and presumably out of the station.
Using six extra hands, Knox held on for all she was worth until the door closed and stopped the air from trying to pull her from the station along with all the dead bodies. Sadly she lost her new lighting weapon that was sucked out along with everything else. Knox had held onto the door frame with that extra hand, deciding it was best to lose a toy instead of her life. Now, with the situation somewhat resolved, Knox needed off this station and quickly. It seemed that the very station itself was trying to kill everyone. Time to steal a cool vehicle and leave!
Finding a service conduit, Knox abandoned her female form and returned to her thick orange juice consistency and frantically flowed and slithered in an upwardly direction as much as possible. The shaking and whooshing of decompressions echoed in his small tunnel. Finally, Knox reached what appeared to be two floors below the level of the hanger bay. However, further progress was impeded because the service connector stopped. This was the end of the line for this little maintenance chute. Probably due to the thick metal and composite-reinforced structure of the hanger itself. This meant Knox was just below the hanger and didn’t have a direct route yet to get up to the entrance. Besides, there was lots of shooting from a few floors up and back towards the station's interior. Most likely, the entrance to the hangar had descended into a warzone.
Knox needed another way to one of this station's many hangers, and quickly. Fortunately, a way seemed to McGuffin itself into his path, in the form of two Romulans wearing EV suits and heading for the nearest airlock. Running up behind them, Knox took the form of a female Romulan from earlier. Knox jumped in with them just as they reached an airlock and opened it up. The two were surprised at her presence and yelled something at her, which Knox took to mean, “Are you crazy? You don’t have an EV suit on, and we are about to go into the vacuum of space!” But really, that was just a guess because Knox planned on getting a suit from one of them quickly.
With a stabbing motion, Knox speared through the male Romulan with a spear he grew out of his arm. The speared Romulan let out a guttural grunt and slammed back against the bulkhead. The back of his head triggered the airlock to start. Knox now had just seconds to get the one remaining EV suit from the Romulan woman standing in shock next to her.
Turning to the stunned female, Knox said, “I need your spacesuit, ma’am.” As he pinned her to the wall. There was a look of disbelieving sheer terror on the girl’s face as many tentrals sprang from Knox’s back and undulated around her. The astonished woman could barely make a sound as the small, prehensile tentacles quickly stripped her of her EV suit. Knox could feel the air pressure dropping now and picked up the pace, pouring herself into parts of the suit as it was taken from the poor Romulan girl. In just seconds, Knox was standing there in a full EV suit she had just commandeered as the now nude Romulan chick started to choke and gasp in the low air pressure. Then, with a whoosh, the three were pulled out into the vacuum of space as the door opened. The dead Romulan male in an EV suit spurted blood from his wounds in the front and back where he had been run through. Knox grabbed the dead guy and dying girl and stabilized herself as they floated out away from the station.
Seeing the hanger bay now as they drifted out, Knox took aim at where he wanted to go and flung the larger body, that of the Romulan male, in the opposite direction of the hanger bay. This was enough to get Knox moving in the right direction, more or less, but she would need to make another minor adjustment to her trajectory. Grabbing the now dead Romulan woman by her ankle, Knox flung her away at just the right angle to get steered towards the hanger. It was perfect! Knox turned and looked over her shoulder at the naked Romulan chick as her dead body, with arms and legs sprawled out, rotated into the void. “Thanks, babe!” was all Knox could think of saying, and briefly saluting the nude piece of space debris slowly cartwheeling to infinity.
Moments later, Knox landed in the hanger bay. She ducked just as a small runabout left the hanger. Then, a shuttle quickly followed. Everyone was getting out while they could. Knox took a moment to look around. There were a few shuttle-like craft around and another runabout sitting close by. They would all work to escape, but Knox wanted something more sporty. There, at the far end of the hanger, a garage door meant for a small craft was closed. Hearing some Romulans trying to break into the hangar behind him and none of them sounding happy, Knox sprinted away from the obvious correct choices for a getaway vehicle and opted to find out what was behind the secret door. When she arrived, Knox quickly hit buttons on the panel until the door opened for her. Darting inside, Knox found more or less what she hoped to find.
A small pointed craft. Only room for one in a cockpit with a clear canopy. It was a spacefighter of some sort. Knox didn’t have any idea what exactly it was. But it looked like it could fly in atmosphere and in space both. And it looked fast. A disruptor beam shot over her head. Speaking of fast, Knox decided to hurry, and this ride was as good as she would get. She jumped into the cockpit and closed the canopy. The controls seemed easy enough. Most humanoids had similar ideas about how to control small craft. A few seconds later, Knox exited the hangar bay and shot green laser-like beams of energy at the Romulans still in the hangar.
Once free of the station, Knox tried the comm system to make contact with other Federation personnel. After a few attempts, she was able to establish a link to another Federation ship making a getaway as well and was given the coordinates for a rendezvous location.
Sometime later, Knox and the other Federation members arrived at a set of coordinates called “The Triangle.” Knox didn’t actually see a triangle when they arrived. However, she swallowed her disappointment, like a load of bad-tasting spunk, and reached for the comms to call the other Federation vessels. But that is when disappointment abated! A fleet jumped into view as they dropped out of warp. NARRATOR: Leaving behind a ravaged station that would likely take months, if not years, to recover, the three-pronged effort to infiltrate, steal, distract, and escape was successfully pulled off. Continuously hounded by Romulan forces along the way, it was not without further damage to their ships (both original and “borrowed”) and surviving crew that they arrived back at the Triangle just in time to witness the kick-off of the skirmish between Tal’Aura’s carrier group, Donatra’s rebel forces, Martok’s defense group, and the Helmet.
Terrh Jeiai looked up from his console, barely masking the surge of delight that rushed through his veins at the news.
“How many have you captured?”
“We have five Starfleet infiltrators, the traitor from the Sunheart Incident, and one Romulan double agent, reported dead or missing while on a mission on Qo”nos.”
Terrh Jeiai smirked. “That would be the young tr’Aimne. Either he is a well-made lookalike from Starfleet of a man reported dead on Qo’Nos, or there’s been some duplicity.” The general caught his aide’s smirk and mirrored the woman’s amusement with one of his own. “Separate them from one another. Pair up the Starfleet infiltrators with some of our present guests and take tr’Aimne and the traitor to the High Examiner. I believe she will have some questions for them.” The aide nodded, turning to do as he’d instructed when Terrh Jeiai called her back. “Does anyone else know of these captures?” He could only imagine the delays in his fun if the Military Division, the Intelligence Analysis Division, or even the Special Operations Division caught wind of the capture.
“At the moment, no general.”
“Let’s keep it that way. Transfer the infiltrators to our holding cells discretely, and inform me when you have them secured.”
His aide nodded, saluting him before ducking back out of his office. Terrh Jeiai smiled to himself as he turned his chair to face the wall of windows behind his desk. From here, he could see most of the capital city; with this view, he felt the heady thrill of power. With what he was about to accomplish through these infiltrators, it was only a matter of time before he became the Director of the Internal Security Division, and from there, it would again only be a matter of time until he found favor with the Praetor and was chosen as the next Chairman of the Tal’Shiar itself. After all, the last three Chairmen had been from the Internal Security Division, as Tal’Aura favored this division as uniquely vital at this time of unfortunate division.
Terrh Jeiai chuckled, loving it when a plan came together.
~~
[Hathev |Random Tavern| Merend by by District | Romulus]
Although the tavern had been mostly empty when Hathev first arrived, it had since filled in, leaving the Vulcan relieved that she had taken a corner booth that gave her a clear line of sight to both the bar and the main entrance to the establishment. She had been grateful for the crowd as the additional patrons diverted the bartender’s attention away from her. For her part, Hathev focused on the Romulan PADD she had been reading. Lieutenant Johnston was late to their scheduled rendezvous, and with each passing minute, she grew more concerned that he too, had been captured by the Romulan Military. If that was the case, then there might not be any hope for the team. Although technically in command, Hathev lacked the tactical experience necessary to address this scenario properly. Johnston also lacked experience, but as a member of the intelligence department, he had certain insights she lacked and, in the hours since she had come to rely upon his counsel when determining their next steps.
The decision to split up had been his idea. If they were being pursued, splitting apart had been intended to draw out that pursuit. No one had approached Hathev since her arrival, so she was confident no one was following her. Johnston's situation might be more precarious. His role required him to keep moving while maintaining a low profile. He would be more exposed, but might draw out anyone observing him.
The tavern door opened, drawing Hathor's attention as three more patrons arrived and bellied up to the bar. None of them were Johnston. Inadvertently, she met the eye of the bartender, who misinterpreted the look as a request for service. Fortunately for the Vulcan, it took her less time to determine an order than it did for the server to cross over to her. A quick request to refresh her drink and an order of the Romulan equivalent of edamame sent the server back on her way.
Her PADD fell from the table, and Hathev turned her attention to picking it up. When she straightened, she realized she was not alone at her table.
“Johnston,” she said, her neutral Vulcan tone keeping the surprise out of her voice. “You're late.”
“My Apologies, Hathev,” he responded. She did not object to the informality between them, as they had decided to keep the rank protocol unspoken. “It could not be helped. But I found where our friends have gone.”
He reached into his pocket and produced his own PADD, and within seconds, she received a data burst. She accepted and watched as the map and coordinate data as well as the limited specifications, cycled through her display, and her expectation of success dropped. Logic dictated that the chances of them seeing their colleagues again were neigh on impossible. Yet the look on Johnston's face told her something different.
“I take it you have an idea?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Given the subject location, it would defy logic that you would show this to me if you didn't have an idea in mind.”
“Guilty.”
Johnston then proceeded to explain his idea and outline this plan. It was ambitious, arrogant, and audacious enough that it was likely to get them both killed. And yet, it was so desperate that it might be so unexpected that it might just work. Plus, something PO3 t'Jellaieu had told her came back to the Vulcan and just might be useful.
“You realize this will likely end up getting us both killed?”
Johnston met her eye. “You realize this is probably the best chance we have of seeing them alive ever again!”
Hathev let out a sigh, knowing just how right they both were.
[Abandoned Storehouse| Merend District | Romulus]
Hathev concentrated as she continued her work. Even unconscious Romulans could prove difficult. Still, once she was confident in her success, she broke the mold and sat back.
“Well?”
Johnston looked at her. To his credit, he had remained silent during the meld, keeping watch while she joined with the sub-commander's mind. It was fortunate they had spotted him and that Johnston had been able to get the drop on him.
“His name is Galan, a sub-commander stationed not too far from the Citadel. Apparently, he was on his way to report for duty when you intercepted him.”
Johnston nodded. “Anything we can use?”
Hathev turned. “Yes. He is terrified of the Tal Shiar. More so than most Romulans. Any objections if we modify our plan?”
The way Johnston's eyebrow raised was uncannily Vulcan “What did you have in mind?”
Hathev set about explaining her idea, and despite his understandable nerves, Johnston remained enthusiastic.
“Good.” without further word, Hathev turned and swung at him. The blow connected, and the lieutenant fell to the ground. “Are you all right?”
She offered her hand to help him back to his feet. He took it, blood dripping from his jaw.
“Yeah. It was a good hit.”
It took a few moments to properly rough Johnston up and then apply the necessary restraints to make the rouse seem plausible. But when they were ready, Hathev sensed a certain confidence as she backhanded Galan awake. It only took a moment for him to regain awareness.
“Where am I,” he asked. Then he looked at Hathev “and who are you?”
“You are in an empty storehouse in the Merend District. We will get to who I am in a minute, but first, I have a question for you, sub commander...”
Replicating Romulan arrogance in her voice was far easier than Hathev had initially thought.
“Galan,” he said, answering her unspoken question. At least he wasn't lying to her yet.
Hathev offered no direct acknowledgment. “And is that,” she pointed at Johnston, “the man who attacked you?”
Galan looked at him before turning back to Hathev. “Yes. Do I have you to thank for saving my life?”
“Yes, I saved you from him, but given the magnitude of your incompetence, I suspect you will come to prefer that this human,” she emphasized the word, “had killed you.”
Galan's eyes widened. For a Romulan. there was very little worse than failing to stop an enemy spy. In fact, one of the few things that was actually worse was a card Hathev was set to play.
“As to your second question, I am Major Nalah of the Tal Shiar, and I am quite displeased by the lack of loyalty I have witnessed. If I didn't know better, I might think. you were his accomplice.”
That, she knew, would terrify him, and she allowed herself a subtle, perverse smile. To him, she must have looked like a predator about to feast.
“I am a loyal soldier of the empire, Major,” he protested. “I have never seen that human in my life until today. I swear it.”
“Assuming I believed you, the fact that you allowed yourself to be subdued by our sworn enemy speaks to a lack of vigilance on your part and smells of incompetence.”
She let that sit there for a moment, deciding not to push too hard lest she overplay the role. As a rule, Vulcans did not lie, and given her own circumstances, if someone successfully uncovered her deception, they would all die. It helped that she had implanted the suggestion of her fake identity during the mind meld. But even that had its limits: For his part, Galan remained mostly frozen in fear. “However,” she said, allowing a certain warmth back into her tone. “There may be a way you can re-earn my confidence and possibly earn my gratitude and that of the Tal Shiar.”
For the first time since she had identified herself, he looked up.
“How may I serve?”
“I am on a mission of vital importance to the empire. I cannot divulge the details, but I can tell you that this human is part of a larger group of Federation spies who have come to Romulus.” There was little risk in revealing this bit, she knew. Everyone else, so far as she knew, had been captured, and it served her purposes to share. “Accompany me. Act as my personal guard and see to it no harm comes to me or the human. Escort us to the Citadel so I may interrogate this prisoner properly. Do this successfully, and I will overlook your earlier failures.”
Galan hesitated for only a moment. “Where the Tal Shiar leads, I shall follow, Major.”
[Citadel Val’Theldum | Romulus]
Galan proved even more used than Hathev had expected. Not only had he followed her instructions to the letter, but he had also procured ground transportation that made the trek to the citadel much easier. He had suggested they simply transport over, but Hathev could not risk a transporter registering her as Vulcan.
As expected, the three of them were stopped at the guard house. Again, Hathev introduced herself as Major Nalah of the Tal Shiar. The centurion seemed even more nervous than Galan had and immediately arranged for her to be escorted to the commanding officer while Galan escorted Johnston to an isolation cell.
“Ensure no further harm comes to the human,” She instructed. She was escorted to the office of General Jeiai, and once both arrived, her centurion escort took the liberty of introducing them.
“General,” she said after the Centurion left them. “The Tal Shiar commends you on capturing the spies and the traitor. That said, by order of the Tal Shiar, you will immediately turn the prisoners over to my custody.”
[ General Terrh Jeiai ]
The Centurion who left him alone with this woman, whoever she claimed to be, would not live much beyond this day. Or, Terrh Jeiai inwardly smiled, he would be richly rewarded for bringing him another piece to this Starfleet infiltration puzzle.
“The Tal’Shiar commends me?” Terrh Jeiai’s lips pulled upward in a cheshire smile. “Either you have received a terrible blow to the head and have forgotten much about the Tal’Shiar,” he put added emphasis on their agency name, “or you are an incompetent fool.” Leaning back in his chair, Terrh Jeiai clasped his fingers together, resting his hands on his stomach as he regarded the woman. “By whose orders, Major?” Again, he put deadly emphasis on her supposed rank. “As I’m sure you know, there are many branches to the tree that is the Tal’Shiar, and my branch does not have to answer and will not comply with just any branch. So,” he reached out and pressed the button to call his aide, “unless you can supply the proper documentation from the appropriate branch that would supersede me, I’m afraid this meeting, such as it was, is over, and you may follow my aide.”
The door slid open, and his aide stepped inside. All Tal’Shiar branches have their own set of wordless gestures used to convey orders while in the presence of potential enemies or spies.
“My aide will guide you to a console where you can arrange the documentation I require.”
Terrh Jeiai used these gestures to order his aide to take this woman to the High Examiner, who, by now, would’ve already gotten hold of the Romulans among the Starfleet group. Considering her timely arrival, this “Major Nalah” was undoubtedly connected.
~~
[PO2 Kino Jeen | Corridor within Main Interrogation | Citadel Val’Theldun | Romulus]
She came to on the run; half carried, half dragged by the last person she expected. The Reman was wounded, panting, either from the injuries sustained or annoyance – Kino didn’t get a chance to ask. They were stumbling down a corridor lined with seamless doors, leaving a trail of green and red fluid behind them. The Trill found her feet and tried to support herself but slipped. Tiramex hauled her up, then shuffled to the wall to rest for a moment. Amber lights pulsed through the hall, and she could smell something burning.
“Finally,” Tiramex groaned, “recover quickly, I need your help.”
Kino winced – her entire body felt like one big bruise. “The hell happened,” she slurred, “Where –“
“Treachery, of course,” the Reman rasped, “now they have us, though I hope not where I think. Whatever they had in mind for us, I managed to outplay that fate for one of our choosing, but I cannot go on alone. Can you stand? We must fight our way to a control node, gather intel, and plan an escape,” he held out a compact disruptor pistol for her in one huge clawed hand. “Here. It’s too small for me.”
Kino took it. “And I’m jus’ s’posed to trust you, huh?”
The Reman grinned at her, all fangs and little mirth.
“Right,” Jeen grimaced at the sight, then stepped away from him. “I’m with you, but we find my people first.”
“That…may be difficult.”
“Yeah, well, we’re doing it anyway,” Kino told him over her shoulder.
The Reman blinked, then nodded reluctantly.
“Outstanding,” Kino quipped sarcastically. “After you.”
The Reman shrugged and stalked off but then froze in a crouch after a few paces, sniffing the air. “Ambush,” he hissed and charged off at a dead sprint to the intersection ahead. Kino followed a second later, just as three guards rounded the corner, disruptor rifles shouldered. Kino dropped into a slide, firing, as the Reman collided with the first guard, armed only with claws and teeth. Emerald blood sprayed the stone walls. The second guard dropped to his knees with a smoking hole in his head. Kino swept the legs out from the third as Tiramex shouldered him bodily into the wall, cracking the Romulan’s skull against the stone. A massive boot came down on the prone figure’s throat to finish the work.
“Tal’Shiar,” Kino asked as she got to her feet.
Tiramex shook his head. “Just fodder. Security forces, Imperial Army. If you crossed blades with an Agent, you’d be dead. They are mercilessly efficient killers.”
"Yeah, I’ve seen one in action," Kino nodded, thinking of Valyn as she bent to secure another disruptor pistol as well as a combat blade from the bodies. She tucked the blade into her belt, then raised the disruptors with another nod. “On you.”
“A moment,” Tiramex paused to rip open one of the guard's uniforms, procuring a small tablet device. “Access disk,” he grinned.
“Groovy.”
[Some time later…]
Kino’s vision grayed out as the Romulan holding her aloft by the throat throttled her. She fought through the failure of her oxygen-starved body regardless – kicking out in futility. Desperate, with her back to the wall, she slammed her feet back against it and pushed with everything she had left, as her hands clawed at his blurred features. It was enough to break his hold, and Kino seized the chance to drive her head down into his; once, twice, three times. On the third, she felt and heard a crunch of abused bone and cartilage – as they both fell into a rolling melee. Blood and bodies lined the floor. Both of them rolled over and slipped on the slick emerald trails of fluid, each seeking to outmatch and overpower the other. Kino pinned an arm and cracked her elbow down into the side of his head, only for a fist to smash into hers, which sent her sprawling. Then he was on top of her, fumbling for another choke hold. She couldn’t see, but instinct and training found his wrist, locked, as she shrimped to the side and wrapped a leg up around the back of his head. The arm folded in a satisfying snap.
Then his weight vanished as Tiramex hauled him up by his hair and clawed his throat open. Jeen lay on her back, coughing. They were both smeared in blood, most of it not their own. “They…they’re sending everyone,” she panted, trying to wipe her eyes clear. The Reman nodded. “We’ve only gone through a dozen or so. There could be an army garrisoned here,” he rasped. “Get up. We can’t linger,” he hissed over his shoulder.
Kino groaned and rolled onto her hands and knees, searching for her weapons. She had to roll a decapitated corpse out of the way to get them. “Remind me…to never piss off…a Reman.”
“That would be unwise,” Tiramex agreed. “Come,” he intoned from where he stood before a computer console. “Look,” a clawed gestured.
Fuck, gimme a minute, Kino panted, then hauled herself upright to stagger over to him. It was a three-dimensional layout of the complex, a massive circular structure with a solitary monolith jutting from its center. Tiramex had pointed to another screen, though, one with thousands of file images scrolling past in a blur.
“What am I looking at,” Kino asked through bruised and bleeding lips.
“Prisoner dossiers.”
“What the fuck…what is this place?”
“This is where the Tal’Shiar keeps an entire Empire subdued, silent, and controlled. This is where both Romulans and Remans are sent to disappear. They call it the Citadel.”
Kino shook her head in disbelief. The files kept scrolling. Hundreds. Thousands. “Yeah, fuck that,” she muttered, then wiped the blood from her nose. “This place needs to burn in the worst way.”
“As it happens, I agree, yet there is no option to do so that will not incur significant collateral damage. These files are updated every twelve cycles. Currently, there are 3,487 prisoners held within the compound, hundreds of which are held in the isolated ultima-grade security wing, requiring the highest level of clearance to access. Securing their release is beyond our capabilities.”
“Bullshit,” Kino shook her head. “There’s always a way. Emergency evac, biohazard containment protocols, decontam, something – move over,” she shouldered him out of the way.
“You comprehend these systems?”
“I spent three lifetimes as an engineer, big guy. Lemme see what I can do.”
~~
[Hathev]
As a Vulcan, Hathev found herself in both poor positioning as well as strong positioning against this Romulan. On the one hand, he was right to be suspicious of her as she held neither the credentials nor the full knowledge she boasted. But on the other hand, her intellect would allow her to deduce the most likely scenarios and appropriate responses. Her compromised emotional control would, she determined, be a benefit in this scenario, and she suspected she could outwit this Romulan general. Arrogance was the Romulan’s own worst enemy, and she suspected she could use that to her advantage as well.
She, of course, suspected suspicion and duplicity on the part of the General and, between her own observations of the General’s hand gestures, clearly a form of unspoken communication to the aide, as well as various features within the office itself, it was quite clear that he was not going to take her to a console. She had not been caught per se, but if she showed weakness now, she would be.
She stepped deeper into the office, away from the generals ‘aide’
“Do not insult my intelligence, General. We both know that such documentation could be easily accessed from the console behind your desk. But we also both know that there is no documentation to retrieve, as the very existence of such data would be the antithesis to the nature of certain operations that must be run discreetly.”
She let that sit for a moment. Yes, she had just named the division from which she was attempting to pose but thought she had been subtle enough that it would pass. Still she would need to spin it.
“Or are you so foolish to believe that a group of Federation spies could make their way to Romulus without our knowledge? We have been monitoring their activity since they entered the system.”
"Not at all, Major; I have no doubts that every branch has its own informant keeping tabs on their comings and goings. My question for you, however, is where will you take them? They are already secure in the Citadel, which is where they would be regardless of division, and they are already being interrogated, another standard procedure for all divisions. I am struggling to understand why you would want to risk your life and career, whichever is more precious to you, to disrupt a process that we all must follow."
“Dismiss your Aide, and I will discuss it.”
He offered a small smile and sent his Aide out of the room with another set of silent signals. Hathev suspected he was planning a contingency and made a note that even if she convinced this Romulan, she should keep her guard up.
“Tell me, General,” she said, adopting a more conversational tone when the door closed. “Have you ever experienced Theth?”
"I've employed this protocol in the past, Major, and to great success in ridding the Empire of its enemies. However, it requires direct endorsement from the Praetor in session before the senators can take action. I know from experience the dangers of acting before such an endorsement is made. Until then, it is mere threat of smoke." he cocks his head to the side "There has been no government session with such an endorsement made of late, so what is your point?"
Her Vulcan mind raced through the calculations to weave a convincing enough story, including enough truth and obfuscate detail. Give enough but not too much. The calculations were imprecise, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances.
“My point, General,” Hathev replied. “Is that we are trying to prevent a new endorsement.” Again, she paused. “You may not be aware, but this group of Federation spies is not the only one that has landed on Romulus. The Tal Shair gave the responsibility of tracking their movements to Military Intelligence. Unfortunately, the interlopers managed to elude their surveillance. We are unsure as to why this happened, but an investigation has already begun, and evidence is indicating treachery within.”
She let that sit for a moment, but put her hand up to forestall any protest from the general.
“The Tal Shair currently has every confidence that while your interrogators could extract the truth of the matter from the prisoners given enough time, that is simply a luxury we do not presently have. So we find ourselves with two options: Either the Praetor endorses Theth protocol and a campaign unlike any before it flushes these spies and traitors out of our midst. Or we find them ourselves and avoid such a prolonged public disturbance against our own populace. To that end, I am to insert into their group covertly and maneuver them into leading us not only back to their comrades but also their local support while at the same time ensuring they will fail in their objectives. I will use the existing security alerts,” she motioned to the monitors behind him indicating security alerts in and around Main Interrogation, “as a cover for their extraction. All you need to do is cooperate with me and send enough troops to make the ‘escape’ look convincing to my targets.”
She let the General mull it over before she went for the inevitable Romulan threat.
“General, your involvement in this incident, no matter how inadvertent or tangential it may be, has already been noted. Your cooperation is expected, and given that most of your division is currently under investigation, I suspect you would not want your role in this to be misconstrued as providing safe harbor to spies.”
~~
[Alana Pierce] and [Ashley Kerina]
A Romulan interrogator paced in front of Alana, eyes cold and calculating. Alana, dressed in Romulan attire, maintained a stoic expression though her heart pounded in her chest. Her cover as Subcommander T'Rina, a disgruntled Romulan officer, was wearing thin.
"Your story has holes, Subcommander," the interrogator sneered. "Your knowledge of Romulan customs is... dubious, at best. And your access codes, while valid, are for low-level personnel. Not what I'd expect from someone of your supposed rank."
Alana's mind raced. She had to adapt, to shift the narrative. "My knowledge is... need-to-know," she retorted, injecting a hint of defiance into her voice. "I was assigned to a covert mission requiring a different skill set. As for my access codes, they were intentionally limited to avoid suspicion."
The interrogator raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A covert mission? And what was the nature of this mission, Subcommander?"
Alana hesitated, then leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It involves... the Tal Shiar. Internal corruption, a threat to the Empire itself. I was tasked with gathering intelligence, exposing the rot from within."
The interrogator's eyes narrowed. Alana had struck a chord, tapping into the paranoia that ran deep within the Romulan psyche. The Tal Shiar, the feared secret police, was both revered and reviled. Accusations of corruption within its ranks were not uncommon, but they were rarely spoken aloud. "And what evidence do you have of this... corruption?" the interrogator demanded.
Alana smiled inwardly. She had anticipated this question. "I have data," she said, reaching into a hidden pocket within her uniform. "Encrypted, of course. But it can be decrypted... with the right codes."
The interrogator's interest was piqued. She gestured for Alana to hand over the data device. Alana complied, her heart pounding. This was a gamble, a desperate attempt to turn the tables. But it was her only chance. As the interrogator examined the device, Alana watched him closely, gauging his reaction. The Romulan's brow furrowed as she tried to access the encrypted files. Alana had planted false leads, enough to entice but not enough to incriminate herself. The key was to sow doubt, to create a sense of unease.
"These codes..." the interrogator muttered, his voice laced with frustration. "They're... complex. I'll need assistance from our decryption experts."
Alana nodded, feigning relief. "Of course. I understand. The data is... sensitive. It must be handled with care."
The interrogator hesitated, then made a decision. "Very well, Subcommander. You will remain here, under guard. I will return once I have... consulted with my superiors."
As the interrogator left the room, Alana let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She had bought herself some time, a precious commodity in her current predicament. Now, she had to wait, to see if her gamble would pay off. The fate of her mission, and possibly her life, hung in the balance. Meanwhile, she didn't have to wait long as the Romulan re-entered as quickly as he left. The Romulan's fist connected with Alana's ribs, a sharp pain radiating through her body. She slumped against the wall, gasping for breath. Her Romulan disguise had been meticulously crafted, but it hadn't been enough. They had seen through her, and now she was paying the price.
The interrogator, a hulking figure with a cruel sneer, loomed over her. "You thought you could fool us, Federation scum?" he spat. "You underestimated the Tal Shiar."
Alana coughed, blood trickling down her chin. "I underestimated your... brutality, you smug son of a bitch," she managed to say, her voice raspy, with a smirk on her face.
The interrogator laughed, a harsh sound. "This is just the beginning," he promised. "We have ways of making you talk."
Alana closed her eyes, bracing herself for the next blow. But instead of pain, she heard a voice, soft and hesitant. "Are you... alright?"
Alana opened her eyes and saw a young woman, half Romulan, half Orion, peering at her through the bars of the adjacent cell. Her name was Ashley Kerina, a fellow prisoner and an unlikely source of comfort in this hellish place.
"I'm... alive," Alana replied, managing a weak smile. She pushed her crimson hair from her face before looking back at the other woman. She noted how beautiful and clean the green woman was, wondering why she was unharmed but nevertheless too in pain to care at present.
Ashley nodded, her eyes filled with concern. "They're... ruthless," she whispered. "They won't stop until they get what they want."
Alana knew she was right. The Romulans were masters of interrogation, experts in extracting information through pain and fear. But she couldn't give in, couldn't betray her mission or her crew. Not now. "I won't break," she vowed, her voice stronger now. "I won't let them win."
Ashley reached through the bars, her hand brushing against Alana's. "Stay strong," she whispered. "We'll get through this." Alana squeezed her hand, drawing strength from the unexpected connection. She was not alone in this fight. She only hoped the others were faring better than she was.
The Romulan interrogator's footsteps faded, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. Alana leaned back against the cold, damp wall, her body aching from the recent beating. Ashley, her green skin a stark contrast against the gray stone, watched her with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "You're Starfleet, aren't you?" Ashley whispered, her voice barely audible.
Alana nodded, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "Lieutenant Commander Alana Pierce, at your service," she replied, trying to inject some levity into the grim situation. "And you?"
"Ashley Kerina," the Orion woman replied. "I’m technically a civilian right now but I am on leave from Starfleet. Lieutenant Junior Grade Ashley Kerina. I was... in the wrong place at the wrong time." She stated with a slight grin with an attempt to make light of the situation they now found themselves in.
Alana's eyes narrowed. "That's what they all say," she joked quietly, suspicion creeping into her voice. Ashley's eyes showed fear. "It’ll be okay. You're just... caught in the crossfire. Although I do have questions on why you’re on Romulus and off-duty to begin with but that can wait. Just glad that you’re someone that can be of some help."
Ashley nodded silently. Alana felt a pang of sadness for this strange, innocent bystander who had been dragged into their mess. Yet another sadly she’d noticed as it seemed to be a trend with the Theurgy crew. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the bars that separated them.
"We'll get out of here," she promised, her voice firm. Releasing her fingers, she returned to her tunic. Unbeknownst to Ashley, Alana's fingers weren't just offering comfort. She was secretly manipulating a tiny device she’d hidden within the folds of her Romulan uniform with her spare hand. It was a makeshift communicator, cobbled together from scavenged parts during their mission. Its range was limited, its signal weak, but it was their only hope. Alana pressed a hidden button, her heart pounding in her chest. A faint static filled the air, followed by a crackle of voices. Now she simply had to wait for rescue.
Over the past few days, Nysari had become familiar with her headache, the constant companion her Romulan disguise had inflicted on her native Andorian physiology. She’d actually become used to it, acclimatizing to the pain just as her sense of balance had adjusted to lack of antennae, letting the ache fade into the background. Unnoticed. Therefore, she was particularly annoyed to wake up to a whole new pain in her head, a sharp stab that immediately became the focus of all her attention.
With a groan, she moved a hand to her forehead in search of the source. It seemed to take forever to get there. The tips of her fingers barely touched the open wound, wet with fresh blood, before flinching away. Nysari opened her eyes slowly, a blurry wash of gray greeting her. She remained where she was, curled up on the hard ground, until the picture began to sharpen. The finer details did nothing to help the aesthetics of what could only be her prison cell. Great.
She couldn’t remember exactly how they had been captured, but considering the head wound, that wasn’t overly surprising. Rather than worry about it, Nysari decided to focus on the problem at hand instead of wasting her time with the cause.
Sitting up was easy enough, and from there, she made it to her feet with only a minor bout of dizziness. Maybe her concussion wasn’t as bad as she feared. The cell was a small box. And by the looks of it, the place had never seen a cleaner. Three bare walls and a fourth made of bars. Actual metal bars. Not a forcefield, not a locked door. Just bars. She couldn’t even see any hinges. Did they recess into the floor?
As she moved closer to search for a mechanism of escape, Nysari felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise, antennae twitching against her scalp beneath the prosthetics. Someone was watching her. Now that she was aware of it, it didn’t take long to locate the man in an adjacent cell, his eyes filled with that clever inquisitiveness that seemed inherent to Romulans. Even though they were both prisoners, there was something about him that led her to distrust him instantly.
“Jolan tru,” Nysari began cautiously, sticking to her disguise.
The man laughed, which only served to throw her further off her game. “A good day to you as well,” he replied in pitch-perfect Federation Standard. Without waiting for her to reply, he continued, “Unless that’s blue paint covering your face, you’re not a Romulan. Not a bad disguise, otherwise.”
“Ah, that.” She looked down at the hand she’d probed the wound with earlier, noticing the blue stain. “I don’t suppose Romulans have any blood conditions that could cause such a change?”
“Not so much, no.”
“How unfortunate.” Nysari shrugged, letting a small, self-deprecating smile play across her face for a moment. “They already had us made anyway.” Had they? Interesting. Was that a bit of memory finding its way back? “And you, what are you in for?”
“D'Aev tr'Amarok,” he introduced himself with a flourish, even adding a little bow, which looked even more ridiculous through prison bars. “I’m a purveyor of high valued objects, entertainment for the wealthy and powerful, which bring only joy and harm no one. However, the Tal Shiar took notice of my normal work and slightly… misunderstood.”
“You are a smuggler.”
“If you want to be technical about it, yes. Though I’ve never enjoyed that description.”
“And you smuggled in something dangerous enough–”
“I resent that accusation, as I said–”
“Fine, I recant. You purveyed something foul enough–”
“What part of harmless entertainment wasn’t–”
“Throughout history, the wealthy of many worlds have taken part in entertainment that is harmless to the audience, but hardly so to those forced to take part.”
“Holograms aren’t sentient; they don’t have the capability to care about what is done to them.”
Nysari paused to stare at him for a moment. “You expect me to believe that the Tal Shiar imprisoned you for smuggling holoprograms?”
“Ferengi holoprograms, Klingon silks, Andorian ale, Vulcan tea, and more. There was a fortune in that ship. I’m broke without it, and I’m sure the ship that took me custody is greatly enjoying the spoils.”
When he listed them all at once, Nysari finally understood. Now it was her turn to laugh, a quick sharp sound that earned her an annoyed look from the other prisoner. “There are historical examples for that too. When the culture of your enemy is widely available and accepted, they don’t feel that much like an enemy anymore, do they?”
“Great, just my luck to get stuck with a philosopher. This might surprise you, Federation, but I couldn’t care less about your culture.” He rolled his eyes. “There’s a demand for something, I get it, then I get paid for it. Do you have any idea how much people will pay for Vulcan Love Slave?”
“No.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“So you travel frequently to the Federation and our allies, and now they think you’re a spy.”
“They think I’m a spy,” he confirmed.
Nysari was almost enjoying the conversation. Searching for a way out of her cell might be a better use of her time, but it was far outside her realm of expertise. Befriending a cellmate was something she could do, and she was never going to get out of here without allies.
“Then why don’t you just offer to spy for them–”
This time, Nysari wasn’t interrupted by D’Aev, but by the banging of the door at the end of the hallway. The two prisoners were automatically silenced, both breaking eye contact. Nysari took a step back as two Romulan guards entered her view. Her heartbeat rose, the sound thrumming in her ears, but the guards completely ignored her, their attention focused on the opposite cell.
“Is this the one?”
“That’s him,” the other confirmed, reading off a tablet, presumably loaded with prisoner information.
The first nodded, placing his fingers on a patch of wall near T’Aev’s cell that looked no different to Nysari’s eyes, but must have been a biometric lock, since a set of bars automatically swung open into a door. “We’re taking you to interrogation.”
D’Aev exited the cell silently, letting the door swing shut behind him as he took his place between the guards. Nysari had to keep herself from sighing. There went her potential ally. She went back to looking at the bars of her cell, trying to find the outline of the door she now knew was there.
With her attention shifted, she missed it when he moved. It was all over in a second. By the time she looked back to the group, both guards were falling to the ground, green blood falling from deep cuts at each of their throats. D’Aev stood in the middle, a wickedly sharp dagger in his hand.
“They’d never trust me to turn spy for them when I’m already allegedly a spy for someone else,” he continued their conversation as though it had never been interrupted, all while kneeling down and beginning to saw off one of the guard’s hands at the wrist. To get him through other doors, most likely.
Nysari couldn’t answer him. She was too busy trying not to throw up. She had to close her eyes, tilt her head towards the ceiling, and take a few deep breaths. “Where– where did you get that knife?”
“Hidden daggers are good for protection. There are only a few good places to put it, it's not hard to slip it off someone. His-” Nysari still wasn’t looking, but she assumed he was pointing to one of the now dead guards, “was in the first place I checked. Lucky me.”
When she dared look again, his grisly work was finished, the Romulan standing back up with his bloody prize.
“Could you open my cell too?” She asked, daring to hope.
“Now, why would I do that?” He waved at her with the severed hand, then turned to walk away.
Nysari scrambled for a moment to find an argument, coming up with and discarding multiple ideas before shouting after him, “If you survive, you’re going to need new merchandise! My ch'te – husband – runs a restaurant on Andoria. He can get you another supply of Romulan ale. Free of charge. He probably has some holoprograms laying around too.”
There was only silence, leaving Nysari with the uncomfortable thought of what would happen to her when the dead guards were found right outside her cell. Then D’Aev came back into view, and her heart lept.
“What’s your name?”
“Nysari zh’Eziarath.”
He stared at her, evaluating. Then he tapped the wall next to her cell with the guard’s hand. “Try to keep up.” The door swung open.
Lillee awoke suddenly, in a start, her heart hammering painfully. She looked around the room frantically, only for her wrists and ankles to ache as she moved. Seeing Hirek across the room from her, held in an identical position, the true horror of what was happening hit her, and she froze, her breathing becoming short and panicked. Hirek was held aloft in front of her, arms held up above by taut chains, feet secured a few centimeters off the floor in an X position, wearing a loose black smock that only just preserved his dignity.
Difficult though it was to move her head, Lillee’s own aching body told her that she was in the same position, wearing a similar smock. Tears started to form. This was it. This was the end. The enormity of her own foolishness, believing that they could evade the Tal Shiar on the homeworld itself, was staggering. The others had no way of knowing, not even Ives, but she did. Hirek did. Why hadn’t they made the others listen? How could they have been so arrogant, so moronic? Anhlai, Monoui…both parents lost to foolishness and that stupid sense of duty.
It was possible that the Allegiant hadn’t been found and destroyed yet, that some of the others were still out there, but Lillee knew better than to hope for a miracle. She knew where they were. There was only one escape from such a place, and the Tal Shiar were clever enough to make even that final act impossible for the prisoners to attempt. Still, knowing what her fate would be, Lillee privately vowed to die long before she got anywhere near the Tricameron. Her babes would not watch her execution. She had let them down in so many ways, but this…she could do this for them.
Increasingly annoyed that Hirek was still asleep, his head lolling, Lillee grunted. At the lack of response, anger growing, she grunted again, louder. She didn’t even remember being captured, never mind how it had happened, so she knew that Hirek wasn’t staying asleep just to spite her. They could’ve been stunned, anesthetized, whacked into unconsciousness; there were any number of reasons why she might have awoken before him. He might even have been injured more severely while defending her unconscious body. Still, her irritation with the arrogant ass grew stronger than her Vulcan logic, steadily building. Lillee knew better than to shout or scream, though.
“Wake up, you moron,” she said furiously. “I am not doing this alone!”
~~
[Hirek tr'Aimne| | Somewhere he'd rather not be | Romulus]
A furious female voice cut through his meditative sex dream, eliciting a muffled groan from the barely clad Romulan, suspended like a sensual snack from the ceiling. It was perhaps not the “healthiest” of coping mechanisms when subjected to physical and mental torture tactics, but it had always (or nearly always) worked for Hirek before, and he’d fallen into it quickly enough soon after they’d knocked him senseless the first time.
He’d always known they would be apprehended. From the moment he’d been recruited to the mission and briefed on the objective, Hirek had bided his time, awaiting the inevitable. For him, it’d been more a matter of how many of them would die in the process of being successful, if they could even be successful than it was getting in and out unscathed. Far too pragmatic to have something silly like “hope” get in the way of mentally preparing for when they’d get captured. The apprehending process had still hurt like hell.
Hirek knew without having the charming male Trill doctor back on Theurgy assess him that at least three ribs were broken and a lung pierced (making breathing a damned torturous thing), a collarbone was also broken, and he had a hairline fracture on the portion of his skull the Romulan guard had used to open the door they’d tried to hide behind. Whether his skin was already checkered green with the multiple contusions over his abdomen, legs, and back the earlier beating would create had yet to be determined since he’d yet to open his eyes. Had yet to know if they still worked.
The High Examiner had managed to get Hirek to open his eyes using a few of his “questioning” devices, but he’d only left the room more frustrated than when he’d entered when Hirek’s responses didn’t match what he wished to hear. This had given them reason to “tickle” Hirek a bit more while the High Examiner took a tea break before he came back to restart the “questioning” with Lillee. During this “tickling” process, one of the guards had gotten doubly creative and sent a few pronged shocks directly into Hirek’s eyes. Ever since then, he’d stubbornly retreated to the land of sexual delights and preferred to remain there as long as possible.
It was Hirek’s intention to aggravate the old bastard enough to keep the bulk of the man’s physical ire on him and away from Lillee, but Hirek already knew he could manage this for only so long. He would be no good to the fellow Romulan dead, and now that they’d done him a favor and buried him in the middle of the Citadel, he’d rather live a bit longer if only to destroy this facility around his own head if possible.
Sticking to his earlier intention of keeping eyes closed until the High Examiner returned to “bask” in his presence, Hirek sighed before responding. “Last time I checked, panic attacks could be managed just fine on an individual basis.” He lifted his head, twisting it toward Lillee. “Dying, too, can still be accomplished in a solitary fashion. If, however, you’re proposing we come up with a plan on how to turn the tables, I’ll remain conscious long enough to hear you out.” Part 1 of epic JP! Let's go!
Last post by P.C. Haring -
[Lt Reggie Suder | Jeffries Tube Junction 12 Alpha | Deck ? ? | Vector ?? | USS Theurgy] Attn: @RyeTanker
Reggie's eyes rolled up to the back of her head as she hit her peak and she was only partially aware of her actions. The euphoria rushed through her and she may have cried out or screamed or just whimpered as it all began to settle back to normal but as the presence of mind returned to her, she found herself slick with a sheen of sweet laying on top of her Andorian partner who herself was also slick in a sheen of her own sweat.
Catching her breath, she watched as Zark licked one of her fingers clean of the juices that Reggie's orgasm had left and the Betazoid saw the unspoken question as much as she heard it telepathically. She couldn't be sure as to why, but the idea of tasting her own juices did not appeal to her. Normally, she would be willing to try just about anything when being intimate, but in this moment she merely nodded a subtle 'no'
Not wanting to leave her dirty though, Reggie shifted her weight to one side, took Zark's hand in hers and slipped the offered finger between her breasts using her own skin to clean the blue finger while allowing the juices to evaporate into the air and absorb back through her skin.
She teased with Lark's hand for another unmeasured moment or two before interlacing her fingers with the Andoran's.
Last post by Sqweloookle - [ Lieutenant Elro Kobol | Hirek's Quarters | Deck 17 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz
He listened to the Romulan and in his mind he imagined himself with Hirek standing amongst the vineyard, holding hands, and the weather was perfect. Life on an island home as Hirek described it sounded like a dream, it made Elro want to see this come true and be there even for a moment. He smiled at the Romulan, he found his attachment to the outcast growing more and more.
As if the deities were nudging him away from the daydreaming of things that may not come to pass, Elro suddenly thought about what animals Hirek's island had, the urge to ask was great but he mused that it would be better to see for himself in that future he hoped for earlier.
He raised one eyebrow at Hirek's last statement, Elro knew for a fact that considering he was aware of Hirek's thoughts, not actually reading, just skimming over them with the occasional glance down and got a flash of surprise embedded in those thoughts.
Elro wondered what the surprise was for, there wasn't any real reason he could tell for it but perhaps at some point he can ask Hirek about it someday. "That does sound nice." Just then the computer interrupted.
"Specialist Hirek tr'Aimne, you are requested to meet with the Denobulan Counselor Doctor Vanik Polmar, he expects you in 6 minutes, unfortunately Lieutenant Williams is unavailable, so you were reassigned to Doctor Polmar."
"Shall I escort you?" Elro asked, "as I do have to go back that way."
They both stood at the same time. "Very well computer, on my way." Hirek replied and turned to Elro. With a smirk he added. "Yes," soon the two were out in the corridor on their way to the Counselor's office.
Last post by Dumedion - [LT Arven Leux | Recovery Ward | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy] Attn: @rae
“We've been here for two minutes,” Arven sighed, trying and failing to contain his irritation.
He didn’t really move much while Azrin yammered; he was too occupied observing her reaction, taking his sweet time with the patch calibrations. Truthfully, it was already set to the correct adjustments and synced up; but there was no point trying to put it in place while the engineer kept moving, gesturing, and generally doing everything but try to sit still. He wondered how much trouble he'd get in if he just jabbed her with a tranquilizer right then and there, just for the sake of his sanity.
Probably a bad idea, the Doctor shrugged to himself.
“Let’s examine the logic of telling you, a sleep deprived patient, of a super secret plot to treat the root cause of all of this mornings unfortunate events instead of simply pulling you from duty and confining you to your quarters for a minimum of eight hours,” Arven frowned cynically, talking as he worked to apply the DTR to Ryn’s shoulder. “Makes about as much sense as a 400 year old engineer being unable to track one of the four fundamental aspects of space-time, doesn’t it,” he added dryly.
The deconstructed hypo hit the floor then, scattering in various directions. Leux arched a brow as he shook his head. “Its fine,” he drawled. “Next time I’ll just pay your go-faster thingy a visit and break random stuff,” he smiled sarcastically.
With the press of a button, the DTR slings tightened with a jerk – effectively immobilizing Azrin’s shoulder and elbow, but leaving minimal movement in her forearm. She could effectively bend the elbow out but not rotate it, leaving her wrist and hand free in a sling. Arven moved to stand in front of her as he continued.
“Leave it on for at least sixteen hours. Eight if you want to risk re-injury, or don’t listen at all and I’ll see you before your precious project kicks off. Now,” he angled her chin up so he could fix the outside of her face, “try to hold still, pretty please.” A tissue regenerator buzzed in his hand over the ridge of her nose. He did his best to ignore the dirt-packed pores of her pale, freckled skin. He’d met and treated other engineers; none of them managed to get as filthy as Azrin, but then again, they didn’t seem to mind sleeping either.
They didn’t resort to annoying homicidal tactics to avoid treatment, either, he grumbled to himself.
“There,” her grunted a moment later, moving away as he counted off on his fingers. “Shoulder, fixed. Nose, fixed. Stims,” he grabbed a hypo, set it, then jabbed it into her neck without hesitation. “Administered. Dose times are keyed into it, just don’t take it apart. This,” he tagged a device to the other side of her neck: a thumb sized biomonitor. “Is so I can keep an eye on your vitals. Don’t mess with it,” he warned, pressing the hypo into her clammy palm.
Arven paused to take a deep breath. It was time to send Azrin on her way and get on with the rest of the day.
“Well, that’s it. Other than the attempted involuntary manslaughter, it’s been really nice meeting you. The nurse will discharge you presently. Try not to kill us all,” Arven smiled pleasantly as he backed out of the room…
…and backed right into Nurse Ellison.
“All done then,” she asked, bemused.
“For now,” Arven smirked snidely. “If we survive the next 24 hours and she comes back, do me a favor and sic Vi-Nine on her. Maybe she’ll try to take Vi apart and the two will cancel each other out. Meantime, update records and show her the door – after she cleans that mess up in there – if she can manage that without falling asleep again.”
Ellison huffed and shook her head at his back as Arven walked away.
“You're such a dick,” Ellison mumbled under her breath.
Last post by Dumedion - [Ens. Talia "Shadow" Al-Ibrahim | Holodeck 3 | Vector 2 | Deck 21 | The Ranger] Attn: @Krajin@Pierce
Shadow had to check her initial reaction to Atlas’ idea; while a snack wouldn’t hurt, (she'd just have to log the caloric intake mentally and adjust accordingly), this wasn’t supposed to be a social affair – but in the end she decided to just go with it. After Javert, Talia reminded herself, we may not get another chance to just…spend time together. Besides, it wasn’t like the old man was peeping on their every move. They were still in the holodeck; as far as Janus or anyone else was concerned, they were still training.
A wry smile curled her lips at the thought.
“Sure,” Talia agreed as she fell in line with them towards the Den. “Pita bread and hummus for me, maybe some lamb kabobs,” she shrugged to herself, as the others conversed. A smirk was thrown in Goldeneye’s direction at her wingmate’s warning. No shit, Shadow thought to herself; in the short while they’d known each other, Tessa had proven herself to the epitome of unpredictability – in and out of the cockpit. Flying with her would require constant adaptation, which suited Shadow just fine. Stagnation led to complacency. Everything changed over time, or it simply died; she had no intention of dying.
Atlas seemed of a decent sort, as far as Talia could tell, anyway. Her own social skills being what they were, she counted it as ‘so far, so good’ and aimed to keep it that way. She’d made a mess of plenty of first impressions already. The towering Kzin met her eyes and Talia grinned at the opportunity to hear of his exploits; having read up on him, briefly, she wondered if he’d stick to his war-time missions or delve into the alleged ‘piracy’ activities. Either way, hearing about them would be better than reading.
As for herself, Shadow’s grin faded I little in self-consciousness; she had no stories to share, at least, very little in the realm of combat anyway. She shrugged to herself again. Doesn’t matter. She could eat, and listen, and try her best to bond with these people that risked it all with her every time a scramble order went out. It was the least she could do.
“Well,” a dark brow arched up at Atlas as they walked with a smile. “Let’s hear it.”
ooc – sincere apologies for being so late to reply.
Last post by Dumedion - [Ens. Talia “Shadow" Al-Ibrahim | Campsite Gamma | Theta Sigma VI] Attn: @RyeTanker [Show/Hide]
Shadow stood shivering as the other Andorian introduced herself and the pilot’s dark eyes widened a bit in recognition of the name. Uh oh, Talia’s mind instantly whispered in worry, mostly because she didn’t have the best reputation with security, but also because she couldn’t be absolutely sure she hadn't literally run into the Deputy during her and Ghost’s drunken romp through the ship. Needless to say, Talia’s nose and cheeks – already rosy and stinging from the cold – turned a shade darker under the Deputy’s scrutinizing gaze. Wonderful, Shadow grimaced mentally, but any further self-chastisement was interrupted by Zark’s hands and mouth, which prompted a muffled moan of surprise, followed by an alarmed blink. Whether the medico mistook said moan as encouragement or was simply being her usual sensual self – Talia couldn’t tell – but her leg raised of its own accord from Kali’s grip on her ass cheek. Physical contact had always been Talia’s weakness, a fact very few people knew; Zark, of course, was one of them.
But even as her body melted into the kiss, which was lovely and reciprocated before Shadow even realized what she was doing, Talia’s mind was screaming in opposition, as always: Not in front of the Deputy! What are you doing?! Control yourself, Talia scolded herself. But Zark’s lips and tongue, effortlessly sensual, overruled her own mental programming; the pilot’s mind blanked, for a brief, blissful moment – she simply responded bodily, as everything else faded away.
Once the brief make-out session was over, it took several blinks for Talia to reorient herself while she licked the taste of Zark from her numb and stinging lips. While the Deputy continued, the pilot looked from Zark to her and back again, relatively sure she'd interrupted something between the Andorians, and also relatively sure the Deputy wasn’t like Zark at all, and didn't approve of her or Zark’s behavior. Talia’s stunted and underdeveloped social intuition deduced that her presence wasn’t entirely welcome, either, which set her mind churning once again, especially after such an amazing greeting from Zark. It was almost comically awkward, and Talia had no idea what to do.
Should I go? Stay? Feel's like I should go, Talia debated internally, but outwardly nodded and opened her mouth to speak; something along the lines of: Well, nice meeting you Deputy, again, or…whatever – I’m going to run away now, but once again, Zark was Zark, and Talia found herself being dragged along as the pair conversed. She hadn’t intended on staying long, and the thought of reserving a cabin had never entered the pilot’s mind; Talia only wanted to breathe some fresh air and enjoy being somewhere other than the ship for a few hours – she certainly didn’t plan on fighting anyone, or swimming for that matter. (She wondered briefly how people got in and out of the spring without freezing, but assumed the Andorians were probably immune). Unsure what to say, Shadow just nodded along and tried to ignore the cold and her own self-conscious thoughts. How am I supposed to stay on her good side, Talia wondered, brow creased. She’s probably waiting for me to screw up and kick my ass straight back to the ship. Talia’s head and attention snapped up at the mention of fire though.
She saw it then, a short walk from a large pool of steaming water. Heat, her body and mind called, oddly in agreement for once.
“W-wait, uhh…I didn’t reserve a cabin,” Talia explained in a shivered whisper. “I d-didn’t plan on staying long, b-because I have to go on duty in a couple hours,” her dark eyes flicked from Zark to the Deputy and back again. “F-fire sounds nice though. I’ll just… w-wait there for awhile while you two do your thing. S-sounds nice, getting painted. I’m sure it’ll be g-great,” the pilot offered a shy but sincere smile to the Deputy as she headed towards the warm glow of the fire; it felt like a good time to leave the two of them to their plans, and not risk the ire of the entire security department.
“N-nice meeting you,” Talia nodded politely as she backed away, then offered Zark her best smirk. “Have f-fun, try to stay still. I’ll b-be around, if you two w-want more company.”
With that, Talia made a bee-line for the fire and promptly began to rotate herself like a rotisserie. Hm. Hot chocolate sounds delicious, she mused, and soaked up the heat. Movement off in the treeline, back the way she’d come caught her eye suddenly – a phantom, really – just a blur of black that flitted between the trees. Talia frowned, then shrugged and went back to spinning herself around, doing her best to avoid the popping embers from the crackling fire.
OOC – just a placeholder post, as I prep for the move. I have every intention of continuing once life has calmed down a bit. (sorry it took so long to reply)
