Last post by Doc M. -
[ Maya | Chief Counselor's Office | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Atten: @Fiendfall
"Grief does not become us." Counselor Hathev interjected. "You must meditate until such urges are dispelled. Do you require guidance in this?"
Maya's hazel eyes had narrowed into a squint and her mouth was still a thin hard line. If she was attempting to convey hostility with this expression her choice was a curious one. Narrowing one's eyes into a squint was not particularly threatening, but rather gave one the impression that one suffered from poor eyesight, and would subsequently have a disadvantage in any physical encounter. In addition, the Denebian slime devil, widely considered one of the most hostile creatures found in nature would be considered much less threatening if its mouth was a thin hard line, rather than its normal appearance, a slavering mass of fangs.
She closed her eyes and took a breath before opening them to look at the counselor. To say that Hathev's remark was unwelcome would be an understatement. The fact that her statement was perfectly valid did not change things, nor did it help matters. As a doctor, Maya was well aware of the health risks of the V'tosh ka'tur lifestyle. The incredible control that their people had over their own nervous systems came at a price. Uncontrolled passions and traumatic memories led to serious health risks since an unbalanced mind could make the Vulcan brain do anything from stop the heart to lobotomize itself. As a matter of fact, most of the disorders that ended a Vulcan's life 'due to natural causes' could be traced back to the time of their youth before the emotions were truly mastered.
Hathev was looking at Maya the same way Earth's doctors of centuries past looked at their patients who smoked. Emotions were a senseless addiction that greatly shortened one's lifespan that the addict insisted made him 'feel alive'. Even worse, for Vulcans the display of emotions was akin to profanity, if not mental illness. If Hathev was anything like the Vulcans she had left behind over two centuries ago, the chances of her reinstating one of her people who freely admitted willfully indulging in emotionalism would be zero.
And even worse, for the first time since she found herself in this new century Maya was being reminded of being in the room with her mother.
"So it would seem," Maya acquiesced coldly without truly admitting anything. "Although my training in meditation in order to repair and maintenance my own mind has been extensive, the particular type of violation I have experienced would suggest that diagnosis and treatment from an outside source would be recommended. My past is rather unique but I believe that it has prepared me somewhat for what I recently undergone."
"Continue," the counselor prompted without goading.
"I was born almost three centuries ago and a temporal rift carried me forward in time to this century," Maya explained. "This was before the Syrannite Reformation. We did not have all of the freedoms that we enjoy today. Due to my birth and my high psi rating I was trained as a medical facilitator... no," she decided as she cocked her head to the left, "There is no point concealing what it really was by using an outdated terminology from the time of my youth. I was a sexual facilitator."
As she continued Maya sat back in her chair and spoke in a calm professional manner while stroking her somewhat oversized hands and massaging her long spidery fingers. "This was before we had the medications that made this practice obsolete. Although a married couple could treat each other when they experienced the blood madness the fate of the unmarried depended on medically certified professionals chosen and trained by the government. I was selected to provide this service. I was trained not only to make contact and harmonize with different people's minds but to survive the emotional and psychological trauma of joining with patients suffering from the blood madness. I was taught the techniques that allow me to compartmentalize and purge unwanted experiences and traumatic memories that could lead to instability and significant health risks. I would say that out of everyone aboard the Theurgy you and I are probably the most qualified to undergo what I have suffered and emerge with our sanities intact. But of course, thanks to shadow cast over this Starfleet by the Infested, it would be inadvisable to take my word for it."
By now Maya's eyes had lowered so that it seemed that she was looking at the other woman's knees rather than her face. She glanced up to look Hathev in the eye. "My past can be easily verified by perusing my service record," she added. Only at the last minute did it occur to her that her past would sound like a delusion to those who hadn't had access to her records.
FRIDAY, MARCH 20, 2381
[ Ens. Faye Lintah Eloi-Danvers | Walkway leading to Ibai Besi Promenade| Aldea] Attn: @Stegro88
The transporter effect faded from around Faye's vision, and she blinked her coal black eyes a few times, letting herself adjust to the views before her. Gone were the blue white motes of light, as reality reasserted itself. The gravity was slightly different, though by now not unfamiliar, and so too were the smells and sounds around her. Everything was so...bright. Another tale tell trait of the cities of Aldea. This was not her first, or even second trip down to the planet that currently gave the Theurgy sanctuary. By this point in their stay, she'd been down here every few days, during her free time. Aldean styles of clothing were similar enough to those she wore on Betazed, and her home colony that she could indulge in some of her personal attire. And the beaches...well.
No, this was not her first trip. What was different this time, however, was her assigned watchdog. Now, that's mean, Faye. Security Escort. Not watchdog. The Klingon woman next to her had not been assigned to Faye to keep an eye on Faye. No, she'd been assigned to Faye to keep someone from deciding Faye looked like a tempting target to pick up. The Betazoid knew, in fact, that Mickayla - or Hanayr, as she went by when down on the planet - had been one such abductee. And now she was back, escorting the ships sole diplomatic officer on what amounted to a glorified shopping trip.
Stepping down off the transporter station's primary pad, Faye gave a small dipping nod of her head to the transporter tech, an Aldean. Gestalt or not, she couldn't really tell. She'd been around the planet a bit and had gotten to know a few of the local's. Quite well, she thought with a smirk, remembering her first trip down with PO2 Riley Patterson. Imazdi. The word slid across her mind unbidden, with a warmth seeping into her skin that had nothing to do with the bright Aldean sun, and everything to do with the human woman. A smile split her face as she turned around, clasping her hands behind her back, as her dress' skirt flared about her ankles and calves.
"Coming, Hanayr?" she asked in a merry tone that belied her earlier disgruntled feelings. Perhaps she was laying it on a bit thick, but she could pick up a lot coming off of the Klingon woman assigned to keep her safe, and so she was compensating pretty heavily.
Faye had not wanted an escort. After all, she had protested, all she was doing was going to a highly trafficked, well guarded shopping district. Plenty of people around to keep an eye on her. And, she had added, waiving a finger, and piling on 'all due respect', she was a telepath. She'd sense anyone with ill intent coming after her. However, the ships second officer had been quite adamant. Lt. Commander Stark had put her foot down, literally and figuratively. Faye could see the woman, arms crossed under her bust, glaring up at the diplomat. And, well aware that Faye was indeed telepathic, the Ops Chief thought quite a few things for the (slightly) younger officer to pick up.
The diplomat had returned to her quarters to change, as red in the face as her shirt collar. And when she'd reported to the transporter room a short while later, she'd done so without saying on word of protest to the agitated looking non com assigned to keep her in one piece.
Now she stood, looking up at the platform, waiting for the other woman to step off and join her. Just behind the young Betazoid was one of the long glass lined passageways that would lead down to the shopping district, under yet another bright, transparent dome. The architecture on Aldea was invigorating to the young woman, even if she preferred the open beaches to the enclosed, geodesic cities.
Bobbing up and down on her heels and toes, Faye spun again, starting into the corridor as Mickayla - Hanayr, she again reminded herself, just as she was going to be called Tess - fell in step with her. They were of a similar height, though the security officers shoes had more of a heel to them than the diplomats flat footwear. She would have gone barefoot entirely, but Aldean regulations prohibited the practice in public areas that were not parks, beaches, or other such locations.
Hands once again clasped behind her back, the dark haired junior officer grinned up at her escort. "I remember hearing something about a dress shop that, supposedly, makes some choice garments in Tholian Silk. I've always wanted to get my hands on that." It would, she had thought, make a most excellent gift for her Imzadi. Though she had not ruled out acquiring some for herself to wear. Assuming the rumor she'd learned about from overhearing Chief Warrant Officer Tarsi sh'Zhan gossiping with junior Lt. Jonas Arisaka was true. She'd only been able to get a brief surface reading fro the Andorian shen and therefore couldn't be completely sure.
That just makes this an adventure of a sorts, she thought cheerfully, as they descended toward the district doors at the far end of the glass enclosed walkway.
[ Lt. Cmdr. Kai Akoni | The Ring of Honour | Klingon Recreation Complex | Aldea Prime Orbitial Drydocks | Aldea ] @Stegro88 @Revan
The Reman hadn't surprised Kai even in the slightest. The man that stood before him was of an impressive size and apparently strength. That coupled with the straight to the point way of talking was Reman through and through. Now, some man named Ruaxo had said the trio had just won their first round fights and that he wanted a second round, just this time, with bladed weapons.
Kai arched his right eyebrow and had turned his head towards the other two in the ring when he heard about this.
What the hell have I gotten myself into? Kai thought to himself as he thought about his best course of action.
Based on what he had just seen, there's no way the Klingons would fight fair, even though that'd be the honourable thing to do. He couldn't leave the other two to fight by themselves, because he wouldn't want their deaths on his conscience. To Kai, there was no other choice.
"Then we shall fight" he said to no one in particular.
Kai thought about the fact that he wasn't very adept at handling a Bat'leth, so he'd have to take them up on the option to use a replicator. He knew exactly what he wanted to fashion, something from his Hawaiian heritage. Just this time, instead of wood and shark teeth, he'd have the replicator fashion it out of tritanium. Kai was escorted to the replicator in order to fashion his weapon. He input the specifications into the replicator as best he could. Not perfect, but it'll do, he thought as the replicator materialized his chosen weapon.
He picked it up with his right hand and lifted it towards himself, examining it. The weapon was about a metre long, made of solid tritanium with a padded handle. Above the hilt of the weapon, were jagged points surrounding the blade portion. This was where the shark teeth would be embedded in the wood traditionally.
After inspecting it, he found the weapon suitable and returned to the ring, ready for whatever were to come next.
Kai removed his shirt as he stood there because he wanted to be able to move freely, ready to defend himself against the oncoming attack. After he did, he felt a cool breeze waft across his skin, cooling him off as he looked towards the other two in the ring.
This is the weapon I based Kai's weapon on...https://i.pinimg.com/originals/10/77/05/107705dee99db79286428c31c513af08.jpg
[Cadet Natalie Stark | Starfleet Academy | Freshman Dorm Alpha 2 | Cross Species Accommodation | Fourth Floor ]Attn: @Jesaya
In truth, Natalie knew that the odds of anyone noticing they'd made alterations to their uniform were slim to none. But she was anxious about this whole thing, and thus trying to spin it all in a positive light, on the off chance that someone was very closely monitoring freshmen cadet replicator usage. Or if their uniforms fit so much better than everyone else that it was blatantly obvious. How likely that was, the human woman simply lacked the proper parameters to be sure.
When it came right down to it, even passing the Academy preparatory exam had left her lacking many parameters to accurately judge...well, anything about the Academy. She certainly hadn't expected to receive such reassuring words from the groundskeeper, after all. Nor had she, in her wildest dreams, imagined she'd be rooming with a Romulan, never mind that she had chosen the Cross Species Accommodations program. And, she was a nudist to boot!
The thought of which of the two was 'worse' got a giggle out of the girl, and she relaxed all the more. This is absurd. Really, she had to admit. And with that, she just gave into it all. Another small spin in place, just to make sure everything seemed to fit, and then she let herself drop back, so that her rump rested against one of the small room's two desks. The one closer to her bed, and therefore, she assumed, her work station.
Picking at the hem of her skirt now, those blue eyes of her's traveled up Vanya's legs, across her torso and chest, and eventually came to meet the other woman's distant gaze. She's as wrapped up in her thoughts as I am, Natalie decided, perhaps projecting a bit. After all, different species emoted in different ways. Every minute from here on out was going to be a learning experience.
"It's kind of hard to imagine that in a few short hours, we'll be going through orientation. And then...classes. Physical fitness regiments. Medical check ups like...weekly.". She kept right on fondling the hem of her skirt, as her toes curled up, one foot rubbing against the back of the other leg, awkwardly. It was...real.
"I wonder how many classes are the same for all Cadets? Like, when do we branch off based on specialty?" She'd gone from being nervous about her new roommate to nervous about what came next. "All Starfleet personnel are supposed to know the basics of Engineering, First Aid. We all get some base level command instruction. Inter-species Relations. Federation History 101, and Starfleet History 102." Her voice trailed off, and she smiled sheepishly up at Vanya.
"But here I am prattling on, and here you are, Vanya, new to Earth! Not just the Academy. Not like I know much about the planet either, I mean. Daddy only took me here a few times." She was going somewhere with that, honest, she thought she was at least, but felt like she'd gotten lost somewhere between "but", and "times."
Last post by Brutus -
[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Office of Administrator M'Kish | Dockyard Administration Complex | Aldea System ]Attn: @Numen
Natalie was fairly certain that some of her words had hit home. Gotten under the skin of the bare chinned man before her at the table. Kill them with kindness someone had once told her, and thus she did her best, sharpening her knives by recommitting her ships forces to assisting with the troublemakers plaguing the system they were currently hiding in. If that offer had a few barbs in it, well, the offer was baited well enough that M'kish had little choice but to swallow the hook, barbs and all.
Perhaps it was beneath her, as a Starfleet Officer, but the human took a small measure of pride in having 'gotten his goat,' as the old phrase went. She could almost feel some of the tension bleeding away from Khorin Douglas, standing next to her. He'd gone ridged at one point, but then eased back into a ready stance. He think's I scored a point. I just hope that point doesn't cost me too much later on. In truth, she didn't quite realize how nasty a jab she'd landed on M'Kish, nor did she know that the fighter pilot next to her was quite sure she'd earned herself an enemy with a hefty amount of personal anonymity toward the native of Mars.
Gorka was another matter entirely. Her words didn't seem to much phase the younger of the three Klingon's nearly so much as the bare chinned one. Or the quietly amused Qo'rd. No, the so called 'aid' seemed quite in his element. The murder that Khorin saw in his half-brother's eyes was not so readily apparent the to the rooms sole human.
The towering Klingon met Stark's gaze and held it, and for a brief moment, Natalie felt as if she were being appraised, and perhaps found not so wanting as before. Not that she could really analyze that, for M'Kish spoke again, drawing her attention back to his broad desk and narrow frame. He began to explain that he would comply, but that things might be slow. Big Trouble on Little Q'onoS she thought, and very briefly wished she had brought along someone with actual, proper diplomatic training. Lt. Cmdr. Jennifer Dewitt was supposed to represent the Theurgy as a Liason to the local government, but she had been busy elsewhere. As had the ships actual acreddited diplomat, the young Betazoid, Ensign Eloi-Danvers. The lithe girl had actually been stationed at Khitomer, if Natalie remembered her service record properly.
But no, she had been otherwise occupied. And more to the point, both Natalie and Commander Ducote felt that this particular issue fell under the auspices of Operations.
"One thing my father taught me long, long ago, was to avoid politics at all costs. 'It's much easier to get things done, child, if you don't have a politician breathing down your back.'" She did a fair approximation of Chief Starks' gruff voice, and the words brought a longing to her that colored her expression slightly. "I can only imagine that this applies all the more so in Klingon Politics. I do hope the Chancellor, in making his honorable bargain with my ship, has not had to cut too many heads off the shoulders of the members of the High Council."
Of course, if Martok had needed to get physically brutal to get the point across, she supposed that left room for others to move up in standing. Thank God the Federation Council doesn't have to put up with that. I'd hate to see President Bacco have to wade out to deal with a particularly prickly Tellarite at sword point. She paused in her thoughts, and then despite the seriousness of the situation, actually smiled. Okay, I take that back. I'd love to see that.
"Since I'm in surprisingly good health these days," she continued, being quite genuine now (by rights she aught to be dead about 4 times over), "I am most gratified to hear that, Administrator." Again, the threat there went over her head. More than one, in fact, as Gorka drew her attention.
"I can certainl--" was as far as the young woman got in her response to the Klingon aide-de-camp. Sharing profiles of whom would be assigned to the patrol routes only made sense, the better to match and pair skill sets. It was banal, really, these thoughts, as her mind processed what was happening around her. She stumbled back, and looked up at the armored flank of Lt. Douglas. He stood now between her, and the table, as well as his half brother.
Beside her, Qo'rd was snapping forward, all mirth gone from his face. "Dotlhmey," he exclaimed, as he moved to take the blade from the table. That there was a blade on the table, smeared with pinksh red blood, finally registered. The look on Natalie's face went from confusion, to shocked realization, to bold face anger. Heat rose in her skin, and her hand moved to the small of Khorin's back. He had been stabbed.
That blade had been meant for her.
Her heart began to pound in her chest as the gorge rose in her stomach. All the jabs, the attempts at humor to deflect and defuse were gone. Those blue eyes snapped about the room, trying to find where the blade had come from. None of the men had moved when Khorin inserted himself into the line of fire. But the room was too dark - the fire light, and the glow of the holoprojector, neither were sufficient to light all the corners of the office.
On the small of Khorin's back, Natalie's hand twitched, longing to find a weapon, to draw a hand phaser, to use it to hold the others at bay. This was a trap. They tried to kill me.
How much of that showed on her face, she didn't know. Aloud, she said quietly, "I think, perhaps it is best that you send a digital copy of that roster to me, Gorka," she called the man by his given name, omitting any title he might have a claim to. Qo'rd had the blade in hand now, and she glanced at him, then it, then up at M'Kish. Nothing. The mans face was like a stone. All of them were. The seriousness of what had just happened...
"And Sergeant. I think a small amendment to that last statement is required. Make sure it doesn't happen, ever again. We are allies," she spoke, praying the panic that lay just beneath the surface did not color her words. "But even allies are not likely to forgive such an accident twice." Her nostrils flared, and her heart thudded heavy with each word. The one hand that was visible was clenched in a white-knuckled fist; the other trembled against Khorin's back.
All it would take is one word, just one, and I could have Ida here, or Lt. Kingston, with a fully armed security team. Just one little word...
"I believe the proper Klingon phrase is, 'HIja' ta''. The deed is done. Do not let it happen again." There was a certain finality to her words. She jerked her head back, toward the door. "We are leaving now. I'll send you that action plan. And you will send me a full report on this incident. I don't see any need for this to go further than that." Translation: Cross me like this again and I'll run it right up to your Chancellor, and we'll see just whose head rolls.
Dotlhmey = At once.
HIja' ta = the deed is done.
CHARACTER SURVEY SENT OUT!
Today, a Character Survey was sent out, and all Theurgists may find new writing opportunities! Please reply before the 1st of September.[/size]
The purpose of this survey is to help me play matchmaker between writers, finding common interests and character development during the Aldea Prime Anthology. If you fill out this survey and send it back to me, I'll contact you as soon as ideas and matches have been found between current writers. While I will use a spreadsheet to find matches, the results of the survey and the matches will not be publicly posted. Instead, the results will be communicated via PM when applicable.
Ensign Mektari Dumral | Below Decks Lounge | Deck 28 | Vector 3 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Numen
Meki knew that Bila would be disappointed in her lack of revelation into her activities when off duty, even though the man kept the smile on his face, she knew the man well enough to not be surprised at how he reacted. Perhaps even a part of her enjoyed keeping him in suspense and couldn't help but wonder what he imagined she might be getting up to in her free time. Did he think she worked out? Spent time socialising with other people, perhaps having liaisons with a secret lover perhaps? All of which amused her to an extent, whatever it might have been though was certainly to be more interesting than her actual activities or lack of activities to put it more accurately.
Chuckling at his statement on Klingon design she shook her head "Some might say that they're simply practical. Nothing wrong with something simply being built to last Bila, if they wasn't then my fellow CONN officers and I would have to sit at the helm all day just in case it collapsed and we had to fly the ship away or fall down to the planet." she replied. "I do agree with you about the poor colour scheme however, and even as a warrior race that's no excuse to not update the technology every now and then. she added.
Meki knew that Bila knew Vanya, having served under the Romulan android during her tenure as the Chief Science Officer but she didn't really know if he had had any interactions with Zark or not. Still she nodded when Bila repeated Salem's name. "Mmmhmm" she nodded with a hum, unlike her however, Bila had no problems displaying his distaste for the man, despite the fact she knew he could hide his true feelings very well if he wanted too. At least it sounded like the Human's sister wasn't like him.
"Well that's certainly good to hear, although I can't say I blame the woman for being so tired considering everything they'd been through. We all felt like that. We can only hope she doesn't and that Salem doesn't pollute her views with his own, his are more than enough without having to add anybody else's to the mix, we all have enough problems as it is."
The conversation paused briefly when Xenia brought their food and placed it before them. Like Bila, Meki too took the opportunity to have a drink of her own tea. When Bila spoke again Meki would have to admit to herself that she was surprised at what he said. She never really took the scientist as much of a fighter or a killer and yet here he was offering to "take care" of him for her should he give him any trouble. "While I appreciate the offer Bila, I'm sure that won't be necessarily. For one thing the least I can say about Salem is that he at least maintains some professionalism when we're on duty, I imagine that will be even more so considering the Captain is going on the mission as well. Outside of that we tend to simply stay out of each other's way and while that will be significantly harder to do on a ship the size of the Allegiant, it might just be manageable, besides I can take care of myself." she replied with a smile. "Although I will be sure to tell you if anything does happen and how the situation was resolved. Besides it wouldn't look good for you or your career if you did something to your bosses brother now would it?" she joked with her usual deadpan humour and a raised eyebrow, allowing a slight smirk to cross her lips.
Ensign Mektari Dumral | Mess Hall | USS Allegiant ] Attn: @Masorin
Having just finished her shift and handed over the helm to Lieutenant Petterson, Mektari had made her way to the mess hall, getting herself a nice warm beverage and made her way over to a table, taking a seat.
Taking a sip, she immediately pulled out a PADD and started studying their flight path, the star charts of the area and the most recent sensor scans they had taken, wanting to know exactly what it was they were flying into, near or through. She hadn't really been paying much attention to who else might have been in the mess hall. If anybody had been in there with her though, they certainly hadn't said anything to her.
Sitting by herself, she tapped out a few notes for herself on the PADD, luckily there didn't seem to be anything on the sensors or star charts that would indicate any hazards during their journey, however that didn't mean there wouldn't be any. The star charts were a little old and stellar debris, solar storms and so on could come out of nowhere and their sensors could only scan so far ahead to warn them of any danger.
Still it should, barring any unexpected surprises be a relatively straight forward mission, at least as far as flying was concerned, which didn't bother Meki one bit. She was always happy to log in some more flight hours not to mention it got her off the ship and doing what she loved. There was very little for a helmsman to do when your ship was in drydock, not to mention the opportunity to go on a mission with the Captain, that was also a positive.
Hearing a noise she glanced up and noticed that Salem was sitting at one of the tables across from her and glanced back down at her PADD. She'd already known that he was going on the mission, but that didn't mean she had to like it. The Tactical officer had made his feelings about her people well known and while the two had served together on the Cayuga somewhat professionally there was still some tension between the two of them. One a Cardassian and person who hated Cardassians. She didn't know his reasons nor did she particularly care. The two had pretty much adopted a you stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours relationship, whenever they weren't serving on the Bridge together and had so far managed to remain professional when both were on duty but there was always tension there.
Which was why she found it rather surprising when she heard him call her name and invite her over. Looking up from her PADD she looked over at the Human and arched an eyebrow at him, curious. Still he did outrank her and this could have been a professional request so she stood up and made her way over to his table, sitting down opposite him. Well this should be interesting she thought.
"What can I do for you sir?" she asked, while she hated calling a man such as he sir, he had at least sounded professional so far and so would she, no reason to approach this situation with hostility, that wouldn't accomplish anything, nor would she give the racist the satisfaction of getting one over on her, especially when they would be stuck on this ship with the Captain for the next four days.
[ PO1 Mickayla MacGregor | Personal Quarters | Deck 15 | USS Theurgy | Unknown Location ] Attn: @Masorin
"You can say that again," Mickayla wryly noted to herself silently, glancing down at the robe that covered her otherwise naked body. She had thought that she would be more aware of her lack of clothes but found that she had mostly forgotten about it during her chat with Sithick. But at least the Gorn wasn't going to stand on rank while they were in their personal quarters. It was common practice to try and bunk similar ranks together, to eliminate the need but when it did come up, roommates tried to make it work without ranks when in their quarters. It was just more comfortable that way.
Thank you, Sithick," Mickayla acknowledged right before the door chimed. And, judging from Sithick's reaction, not that she was an expert on Gornish behaviour, it was an uncommon event. Assuming it was someone looking for Sithick, as she was a new arrival and knew next to no one on the vessel, Mickayla was surprised when she heard the familiar tones of Devyrie Okhala from the other side of the door.
"Dev?" Mickayla wondered, climbing to her feet to answer the door, since the person on the side was here to see her. Padding across the carpet, Mickayla tapped the control to open the door and admit the pilot. "Please come in," the Klingon said, stepping to the side. Feeling a cool breeze on her chest, Mickayla looked down to see that her robe had opened and was displaying a generous amount of her upper torso, although nothing scandalous was on show.
"Ah, sorry ma'am," Mickayla apologised, blushing as she readjusted her clothing to cover herself more. "What can I do for you?"
Last post by Stegro88 -
Chapter 13 - Accusations And Explanations
"And that is when the man, Ankov, you said his name was," Laurel explained slowly. "That was when he knocked me to the ground and started choking me."
"And what happened next," the detective asked her gently. This was a fellow officer's daughter after all. "Take your time, no rush."
"It's ok," Laurel said. "I could hardly breathe, seeing stars. And then he was there."
"The vigilante?" the detective prodded.
"Yes," Laurel confirmed as the detective made a note on the form before him. "He kicked him off me and I could suddenly breathe again. I struggled to catch my breath and when I finally did, I looked around."
"And what did you see?" the detective asked.
"The archer, the vigilante," Laurel corrected. "He had Ankov on the ground, kneeling. He dropped his bow and walked around behind him. He drew a knife and pulled the man's head back. He said one word and then he cut Ankov's throat."
"One last question, Miss Lance," the detective said gently. "What was the word he said?"
"Justice," Laurel answered. "He said Justice." The detective made a few final notes before he stood.
"Thank you for your time Miss Lance. You have been very helpful," he said as Laurel stood as well. "If there is anything else, we'll be in touch."
"You know how to find me," Laurel replied before turning to leave. Her exit was blocked though by a sudden inrush of patrolmen; patrolmen surrounding one Oliver Queen as they herded him towards an interrogation room. Spotting her father following the group, Laurel stepped forward. "Dad, what's going on?"
"What's going on?" Detective Lance repeated victoriously. "I just arrested the vigilante. That's what's going on."
"Oliver?" Laurel questioned, stunned. There was no way Oliver could be the vigilante in her mind.
"Yeah," Lance stated. "I gotta go. I have an interrogation to begin." Laurel stood in shock and watched as her father turned and walked away.
"I hope the cuffs aren't too tight," Lance said as he entered the room, flicking the door shut behind him. "We wouldn't want you diving out another window."
"Detective Lance, I know you don't have a high opinion of me, but this," Oliver said, lifting his hands to show him the hand cuffs. "Is ludicrous. I am not the vigilante."
"Actually, my opinion of you is practically non-existent. Has been for quite some time. But that is not why you are here," Lance replied as he sat down opposite Oliver, dropping a file on the desk. "You are here because you are a bow wielding vigilante. And that, in case you haven't heard, is against the law."
"Have you forgotten, Detective Lance? The vigilante rescued myself and Tommy Merlyn from a kidnapping attempt just days after my return," Oliver pointed out.
"Yeah, convenient timing on that one," Lance observed. "Especially as Mr Merlyn cannot corroborate your version of events."
"There is no 'my version' of events," Oliver argued calmly. "There is just the truth."
You want to know the truth?" Lance asked pointedly. "The truth is that I should have shot you down at the docks when I had the chance."
"Detective, I am not who you think I am," Oliver tried to reason.
"Oh, you are exactly who I think you are," Lance replied angrily. "You're a menace to society who doesn't care about hurting others. Whether it is with bows a arrows or trust funds and yachts."
"You hate me Detective. I understand and probably deserve that," Oliver said calmly before his voice solidified. "But that does not make me a vigilante."
"No, it doesn't," Lance agreed. "But evidence does make you a murderer."
"What evidence?" Oliver asked, still remaining calm. Lance was about to answer when there was a knock at the door followed by a patrolmen opening it.
"His parents and fiancé are here," he announced to Lance. Oliver noticed that the detective actually grimaced at those words.
"Tell them to wait," Lance ordered. "I'm conducting an interrogation here."
"I demand to see my son," Moira Queen said as she stormed into the room; Walter and Nyssa following close behind.
"Excuse me!" Lance exclaimed, staring in askance at the patrolmen who was already exiting the room. "Can't you see I'm busy here?"
"Detective Lance," Moira began, focusing her ire onto the man who had arrested her son. "I know you hate my family but I did not believe that your anger would extend into a vendetta against it. You have no grounds to arrest my son."
"Oh, I got plenty of grounds to arrest him on," Lance stated. "Your son is a murderer and I have the evidence to prove it."
"Well, as Mr Queen's attorney is on his way, I'm sure you will be willing to present that evidence to him when he arrives," Walter said in his usual business tone. "Until his arrival, however, this interrogation is over."
"Sure thing," Lance said in a snarky tone as he stood, picked up the folder and headed out of the room. "You got fifteen minutes."
"That man is becoming intolerable," Moira declared once the door shut.
"Detective Lance does appear to be on some kind of personal vendetta," Walter observed.
"He probably is to one degree or another," Oliver agreed with his step-father. "He blames me for the death of his daughter. And I don't completely disagree with that."
"Oliver," Nyssa called, speaking for the first time since entering the room. "We talked about this. What happened five years ago is in the past. You can try to make amends but do not wallow in the past or it will swallow you up."
"Quite true Nyssa," Walter said.
"Be that as it may," Moira broke in. "The important thing is not to say anything to Detective Lance, or anyone, until your attorney is present."
"I agree," Oliver said calmly. "I want Laurel."
"Really Oliver," Moira scoffed with Walter equally disbelieving. "I don't think her objectivity can be countered on here."
"Besides Nyssa, Laurel knows me better than anyone," Oliver explained. "She knows that I could never be this green-hooded vigilante."
"Laurel," Nyssa began. "She does seem to be quite determined when she sets her mind to a task. Perhaps that can be of use here."
"Exactly," Oliver continued. "Detective Lance raised her to do the right thing which includes defending an innocent man. So mom," Oliver pleaded. "Please, just ask her."
"Alright," Moira agreed with a bow of her head.
"Thank you," Oliver said gratefully. "Now if I could speak to Nyssa for a moment." Moira and Walter said nothing as they exited the interview room, leaving Nyssa behind.
"Oliver, I do not like this," Nyssa expressed as soon as they were alone. "This is too soon."
"We knew that this was likely to happen sooner or later," Oliver replied, still maintaining his calmness. "We planned accordingly."
"It was not supposed to happen yet," Nyssa argued. "But what is done is done."
"Exactly," Oliver said as he reached up with his handcuffed hands. Nyssa sat down opposite her husband and held his hands. "Now, as planned, we need to carry on as if this is nothing but an inconvenience. I am innocent and we are not worried about whatever charges Lance can bring against me."
"I am not comfortable leaving you restrained and confined husband," Nyssa said, barely above a whisper. "It does not become you."
"It's not actually that uncomfortable," Oliver whispered light-heartedly. "Training with the league was worse."
"Oliver..." Nyssa started.
"How's Zayda?" Oliver interrupted, trying to distract Nyssa. It almost worked, as Nyssa levelled a glare at him before smirking.
"You know I don't know the answer to that," Nyssa pointed out.
"I do know that," Oliver confirmed with a smile. "Go see her Nyssa. I will be fine here."
"That is yet to be seen," Nyssa said as she stood. She walked around the table and kissed her husband, hard. "Be careful."
"I will. Promise," Oliver promised. Nyssa looked at him one last time before turning and exiting the room.
"Zayda!" Nyssa called as she stood outside the door of the apartment. She had a key and truly didn't need one to gain entry but that was not her way. "It's Nyssa, Zayda. Can I come in?" She heard movement from within the apartment and then the door was unlocked and open before her, revealing Sin standing there with a large bruise around her left eye. "Are you alright Zayda?"
"I've had worse. Where were you?" Sin asked in an accusatory tone, blocking Nyssa's entrance.
"I am sorry I was not able to get to you before those men did," Nyssa apologised. "I was unexpectedly detained."
"That have anything to do with the guy in black that rescued me or the other man that he met with later on that roof up there?" Sin questioned as she pointed up at the rooftop across from her door. "Not that I'm ungrateful for him stopping those guys. I probably wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for him."
"It is distantly related," Nyssa admitted. "But I cannot go into that."
"Why not?" Sin demanded. "That guy, he fought like you did."
"Zayda," Nyssa said softly. "What you are asking about is not something to be spoken of outside." Without hesitation, Sin stepped aside and allowed Nyssa to enter before shutting and locking the door behind her.
"So spill. What's with the guy in black and why weren't you able to come?" Sin asked. Nyssa had worried about this. That someone would catch her out, she just never had thought it would have been Sin.
"The questions that you are asking, the answers, they come at a price," Nyssa cautioned. She knew that someone would find out eventually; not even her father could keep people alive and still keep something a complete secret forever. But she was unwilling to directly involve them in something that could very easily get them killed just for knowing about it. "And it is not, as you say, cheap."
"Seems like the answers are worth the price," Sin reasoned, her hands in her pockets. "Especially if it leads to me being as badass as you or the guy who saved me."
"What is this, badass?" Nyssa asked, clueless. This caused Sin to stare at her in complete shock.
"Really?" Sin asked in exasperation.
"I do not know what that word means," Nyssa said, still having no idea.
"What have you been living under a rock or something?" Sin questioned as she sat down on the couch.
"Something like that, Zayda," Nyssa answered ruefully. "Now tell me, what is a badass?"
"A badass is you," Sin said simply. At Nyssa's look she tried to explain further. "A badass is tough, strong, a fighter. She doesn't take shit from anyone. It's a good thing, trust me."
"I do trust you, Zayda," Nyssa replied, surprising herself with how truthful she felt she was being. "And you wish to be a badass as well?"
"Hell yes,' Sin agreed without hesitation. "No one would mess with me if I could fight like you can."
"Then it is a good thing that I can teach you," Nyssa said, thinking up a solution to her problem.
"You can?" Sin asked, wanting to be sure.
"I can," Nyssa confirmed with a smile. "Again, it will not be easy. But I will make you a promise."
"What promise is that," Sin asked, curious.
"The day you complete your training or can take me down," Nyssa described, careful to put in the option. "Then I will answer any and all questions that you wish to ask."
"Really? Anything I want to ask?" Sin queried in excitement.
"Anything Zayda," Nyssa declared, smiling at her young friend's excitement. "Assuming of course that you do one of those two things that I have said."
"When do we start then?" Sin asked, her excitement overflowing.
"Right now," Nyssa said, her face and voice hardening a little. "First lesson..."
"It's not as bad as it looks, mom," Oliver said, trying to comfort his mother who stood with Walter.
"It is not?" Moira questioned as she watched the police officer attach the monitor to her son's ankle. "Then would you kindly tell me what is worse than my son being under house arrest and facing a murder charge, because I don't know what is."
"That's it," the officer said as he completed his task. "Now, this device is directly connected to the precinct. Stay within 100m of the house and you're golden. Any questions?"
"Yes, what about going to the garage, pool and front driveway?" Oliver asked immediately to the confusion of his family.
"Garage and pool are okay," the officer replied swiftly. "Step on the gravel and a SWAT team will be by to forcibly subdue you."
"Thank you, officer," Oliver said. The cop nodded and showed himself out. Once he had exited, Oliver turned to Walter. "Walter, do you think it would be possible for me to work from home. It seems that my ability to come to the office has been severely curtailed for the foreseeable future."
"I don't believe that it will be a problem," Walter said after thinking for a moment. "I will speak to Hanna and Miss Smoak and have them organise things with you. But Oliver, don't you think you should be more concerned about your defence?"
"Walter, I'm not a lawyer. I will let Laurel handle the legal things while I continue on with my life. I am innocent of these charges and a trial will prove that," Oliver explained. "Thank you for speaking with Hanna and Felicity," Oliver said before looking at his mom. "Mom, would you be open to converting one of the spare rooms we have into a home office for me? I probably shouldn't work out of the sitting room and I'm not even contemplating working out of my bedroom."
"If you are determined to continue on as normal then I don't think it would be too much to ask for a room to accommodate your travel restrictions," Moira acquiesced after looking at her son a moment. "I believe there are a few suitable rooms in the east wing."
"Thanks mom," Oliver said cheerfully as he climbed to his feet. "Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to walk around a bit to get used to this."
"That is going to complicate things," Nyssa observed as she pointed at the monitor strapped to her beloved's ankle. "Removing it would be simple. Removing it without alerting the police to its removal would cost you a foot."
"Which I am not prepared to lose," Oliver stated. "I've called Diggle to come and speak with us. We are going to need his help with Mueller."
"I could do it alone, husband," Nyssa said. "I have done so often in the past."
"I know. And I fully intend on you participating," Oliver said as he sat down next to Nyssa. "But it will be easier with his help. And a gauge of his loyalty."
"You can come in Saqr, no need to be shy," Nyssa called out towards the bay window. She heard one of the doors unlatch and open before quietly shutting again.
"I failed again," Saqr noted as he knelt.
"Saqr, the day you successfully sneak up on the two of us together, we will be very dead," Oliver pointed out calmly. "Now, why did Ra's al Ghul send you to Starling City? His proclamation was quite clear. This is our crusade and we are not to have any help from the League."
"As a precaution Al Sah-him," Saqr answered, still kneeling.
"Precaution against what?" Nyssa asked. "My father is not known for going back on his word."
"Precaution against the actions that might be taken by other parties that are even now converging on this city," Saqr explained. "Word reached Nanda Parbat of multiple H.I.V.E agents and operatives being directed here along with several federal agencies. There is even word that She has sent assassins here."
"Oh, She has," Nyssa confirmed without pause. "But they were subsequently dealt with when they confronted us."
"More will come, as you know," Saqr said. "I was commanded to report here to you both and remain close by in case more direct action was required. I was also commanded to not interfere with your mission to cleanse this city."
"Waller told us much the same thing, though she was less forthcoming on who exactly was coming," Nyssa said, her voice carrying a hint of her anger. Further speech was stopped by a knock at the door. Nyssa nodded at the window even as Saqr was already disappearing out it.
"Yep?" Oliver called out as the window was shut. The bedroom door opened and Diggle entered quietly. "Thank you for coming."
"Shut the door, Mr Diggle," Nyssa added quietly. Diggle complied with the request before walking across the room.
"I guess it was just a matter of time before the police or someone caught up with you," Diggle said.
"Except that they didn't," Oliver stated calmly.
"All of the evidence that the police have is circumstantial at best," Nyssa described, equally calm. "Most of it is barely past coincidental."
"It was always part of the plan to be arrested Dig," Oliver said to Diggle's surprise. "It just happened a little earlier than planned."
"You wanted to get arrested?" Dig asked incredulously.
"Well, sooner or later someone was going to make the connection between my return and the appearance of the vigilante a few days later," Oliver pointed out. "This way, we were supposed to control when it happened."
"Oliver, your family is freaking out downstairs," Diggle revealed adamantly. "Was that part of your plan when you decided to deliver yourself to the cops?"
"They will recover, Mr Diggle," Nyssa said. "A little hardship now will bring great reward later."
"I hope you're right Nyssa," Diggle replied, calming slightly. "Because your mother and sister just got you back Oliver, and now you are going to put them through a trial?"
"There won't be a trial," Oliver declared as he stood and walked across to his desk. "But enough of that. The mission comes first." Oliver opened his laptop to show Dig a news article.
"Who is he?" Dig asked.
"His name is Leo Mueller and he is suspected in the theft of over a hundred M249 Squad Automatic Weapons," Oliver explained. "Last night, he arrived in Starling City to sell those weapons."
"I think you're in more than enough trouble this week to consider taking on this guy aswell," Dig argued.
"As I am sure you are aware, Mr Diggle," Nyssa spoke up. "The M249 is a military-grade weapon. It would turn the streets of Starling City into a warzone."
"And Oliver is under house arrest," Dig pointed out. "How do you plan on working around that?"
"I have a few ideas," Oliver hedged. "For now, I just want you and Nyssa to track this guy and try and figure out when and where he plans on selling the weapons."
"And how am I supposed to track him?" Dig asked pointedly. "My nose isn't that great."
"Well you know us billionaire vigilantes," Oliver said with a smirk. "We do so love our toys."
"Come Mr Diggle," Nyssa commanded, standing. "The night is young."
"The foundry?" Diggle asked as Nyssa led him deeper into the abandoned building. "Now I see why Oliver wants to build a club here. It's the perfect alibi."
"It is sufficient for our purposes," Nyssa said as she led Diggle down a flight of stairs. At the bottom, she turned on the lights to reveal where she and her husband worked from to cleanse Starling City. Diggle stepped around her and began to explore. He stopped at one of the tables and carefully touched the tip of one of the arrows; testing it.
"Ow!" he exclaimed, rubbing his finger. "That's sharp."
"Indeed it is," Nyssa agreed. "The trackers should be in the small black case behind you." She watch as Diggle found the case in question and opened it up.
"Oooh," Diggle orated in admiration as he picked up one of the devices. He turned it on and listened to it beep once. "Oh, that is sweet."
"Welcome to our parlour, John Diggle," Nyssa said invitingly.