Star Trek: Theurgy

[ Cmdr Ranaan Ducote | Conference Lounge | Deck 01 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Auctor Lucan

The summons had reached Ducote in the bowels of the ship's third vector, checking in on the internal repairs of the heinous perforation that part of the vessel had sustained. The outer sections were still bare to space, barring the containment fields (and, being on umbilical power, they were as secure as any hull plate... still, he hadn't spent long there during his journey across the ship), but the decks between had mostly been replaced.

They were a little bare, of course, but 'pretty' was not necessary for 'functional'.

He beamed back over to the Helmet - and was anyon swept during rematerialisation per new protocol - and headed for the top deck while he brought up the last few days' top-level reports from the department heads, as well as his own logs and reports. Chief among them were his meeting with Trent and the almost-disastrous interview with Nicander.

Still, the prospect of "good news" from Ives helped dispel the scowl that had briefly formed on his face when he thought about the captive doctor.

The turbolift deposited him in the corridor between the bridge and the lounge, giving him time to tug his tunic straight and scroll back to the top of his report list on his PADD. He still didn't have a great handle on the captain just yet, mostly due to the fact that they still hadn't spent much time together even before the consideration that in hir case, his empathy was more useless than usual. At least professionally they somewhat shared a past line of work. This very world they orbited was one on which s/he had worked undercover for some time.

With a hiss, the doors opened to the lounge and bathed Ducote in the golden reflected light of the ochre deserts of Aldea. "Captain," he greeted, already looking in hir direction. He couldn't read Chameloids, but he could still sense them well enough. "I hope your trip was as uneventful as our stay." The scant details in hir report notwithstanding, anyway. He was looking forward to hearing more about them.

Ducote moved towards the replicator, gesturing with his PADD. "May I get you anything?" he offered, on the way to getting something for himself.

[Adisia  Divine Delights Bathhouse/Brothel | Red Light District | Ibai Besi Promenade | Aldea Prime  ] Attn: @SummerDawn @steelphoenix
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Watching the girl squirming in her chair, Adisia had to admit that she absolutely loved this little concoction, it was so effective. So much so that when the young hybrid actually submitted to her the Orion wasn't entirely sure she had heard her correctly. Having expected her to fight a little longer, still she had indeed given up and submitted.

With a smile, she was just about to step forward and give the girl the hypo as promised when the door to her little torture room opened. Frowning up she saw the silhouette of a man dressed in typical Aldean attire. Narrowing her eyes at the interruption, she listened to the man threaten her. Big mistake for him. Glancing her at the one remaining guard still in the room, Adisia gave a very subtle shake of her head for him not to make a move just yet.

She watched as the man descended the stairs however when the uninvited guest said that one of her associates sent to deal with him was handing a confession over to the local constabulary the Orion burst out laughing. "Oh no whatever shall I do." she chuckled "Everybody in the "local constabulary" as you put it are on my payroll you fool. In fact they're probably on their way here to deal with you right now." she added, shaking her head still chuckling.

She watched the man as he slowly descended the steps, listing off her offences with a murderous glare in his eyes. Still she wasn't afraid, she had gone up against far far worse in her time to get to where she was. Plus with the fool so focused on him, he walked completely by her guard as he made a beeline for her and smirked.

"I'm sorry tried to break her, did you not just hear her submit and apologise, I did more than try." she replied, even as he grabbed her wrist, his claws digging deep into her and started directing her towards the Caitain. Smirking, she dropped the Hypospray watching it shatter on the floor into a million tiny pieces, the contents spilling out over the floor. "Oops, look what you made me do and that was my only one too, such a shame. And to think before you so rudely interrupted I was about to give it to her. Congratulations you've cost your mate prolonged suffering."

Glancing behind the intruder, she saw her remaining guard sneaking up on the man who had the audacity to barge into her estabishment and put his filthy hands on her and wrenched her arm away from him, feeling a very sharp pain run down her arm as his claws tore through her flesh and muscle. Taking a step back, she watched as her guard tackled the man to the ground.

Sprinting around the chair the hybrid was tied to she made her way to her table and grabbed another hypo, running back across the room. Keeping her eye on the man and her guard who were fighting it out, she pressed the hypo into the girls neck. "Let it never be said that I'm not a woman of my word." she told the girl as she injected the anti-serum into her veins.

Glancing back over at the two fighting men she could tell her guard would not be winning the fight and decided that retreat was the better option, she hadn't survived this long without knowing when to cut her losses and run after all. Taking off into a sprint, she ran up the stairs and closed the door behind her before making her way down several corridors to her office and sealing herself within. Snarling she stomped her way over to her desk and cursed whoever that man was.

[ Deacon | Counseling Office | Deck 9 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @FollowTomorrow 

An exchange.  That was certainly better than simply sitting prisoner to this session divulging any number of uncomfortable truths about himself.  It was a human custom that he was far from eager to understand -- something he had honestly hoped to only have to indulge for a session or two at the doctor's suggestion.

He listened as she gave her response, still a touch resentful at the loss of his ziirgah, unable to determine the veracity of her statements as she spoke them, forcing himself to compare he reaction to what he might expect from a standard Cardassian.  He had resolved to make a bit of a learning effort out of the experience, to better himself and his instincts as the recently blind might work to reinforce the input received from their remaining senses.  It was... uncomfortable.  But it was necessary. 

There was a fundamental connection in her words as she admitted her need to self-audit, to set aside those things quintessentially Cardassian to appeal to the homogenized hegemony of the Federation.  It was true that they claimed to celebrate the myriad differences of the various races that made up their particular confederacy, but that was little more than the appeal of the exotic.  That which was too different, that which strayed too far from the conventional norms was to frowned upon.  If they knew half the thoughts that he come to his mind only to go unexpressed...

Deacon took a breath, his gaze cast downwards towards his knees.  Recent events had compelled him to liberate that part of him that likely would be most frowned on at a time he did his most to most blend in.  It troubled him that he had released so much of the control he had maintained since leaving Homeworld.  Certainly, he hadn't admitted anything that would jeopardize the ship or its crew, but the moment required a response distinctly Kzinti.  Humanity was insufficient.

He was silent for a prolonged moment, swallowed in his own thoughts long after the counselor had ceased speaking.  It wasn't that he hadn't heard her but... but what?  His brows knitted for a second.  Was this because she was female and her words ultimately didn't matter to his own thoughts?

Another breath.  Now he was second guessing himself again.  Frustrating humans.  But he had to admit, he needed to fit in... this was his life now.  He could claw and fight and be Kzinti, but he wasn't... not entirely.  That was what drove him from Homeworld in the first place.  He was too Human for Homeworld.  And now he was too Kzinti for here.

"Kzinti... don't trust telepaths," he finally stated after the pregnant silence.  "If a Kzin demonstrates a talent for telepathy... he is forced into the lowest social caste possible... forbidden to mate... denied a name... and addicted to sthondatt for the remainder of his life.   We prefer to keep our thoughts to ourselves...to protect the mask we wear before the Pride, the Patriarch, the Priests." 

He lifted his eyes towards a far corner of the ceiling, "The Fanged God demands honesty in all things.  But in the interest of our straakh, we will perpetrate and suffer a great many dishonesties, for the sake of the Pride...  Certainly, where the insult is too great to ignore, we will bear our fangs and roar, strike and claw at those who offend us and wear our scars and their ears with pride when all is said and done.  But in the end... it comes down to straakh and not truth."

Laying his head on the couch's back, his face fully towards the ceiling, he added, "I am a Black Priest.  I should live and breathe the doctrine of my god, but truth is dangerous when unfiltered.  And so we seal truth behind our masks... even here."  It was exhausting, disheartening, and yet oddly comforting in its similarities.

Welcome @Tempest, let me know if you want a Tour of the Security Center? lol or just hang out in the Security Mess?

[[Lt. Kaylon Jeen | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | USS Theurgy] ^{Attn: @Numen @Juzzie @Nolan @lisavw @SilverShadow}
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This day was one of the few days aboard the Theurgy one could called a normal day, at least thus far. No malfunctions of the engines that could led to the death of the whole crew, no Alien that's going to attack the ship and no other kind of incident with devastating outcomes. Just a normal day and after a normal day was a visit in one of the Holosuits a normal way for Kaylon to wind down.

"Computer, shut down the active Holonovel." The problem, or dilemma, was now that one of the old members of the Cayuga decided to organize a little party for the old crew in the lounge. Kaylon was certainly the last one who would turned a blind eye to a party just to play a Holonovel and therefore he ended his current session earlier than he would normally. Before he left the room checked the Trill his current outfit. The next best casual top and pants, he found in the database of his replicator. Let's hope they're not expecting anything special for this.

The door opened and Kaylon was able to overview the lounge for some moments before another crewmen signalled him unmistakeable that he wished to use the Holosuit now. Kaylon stepped aside and glanced again in the lounge. There were some small gatherings around, but still nothing he would have called a party. Nevertheless the Trill was able to identify the group quite fast, but before he would say hi, he walked over to the bar and ordered a Klingon Martini. With the drink in his hand he headed to their table.

He recognized the faces of the persons sitting at the table, but as he came closer he realized how few contact he had with the rest of the Cayuga crew yet. At least it wasn't only his vault. You haven't got so much time, when you're working in the repairing team of ship always under fire. He decided to uses this event as an easy way for him to improve his relations with the rest a little bit better.

"Hi guys. I've heard here's somewhere someone who wants to start a little party." An open and hearty smile upon his face, he took the next and last free chair at their table.