[ Lieutenant Ayden Tyre | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | "The Sword" Vector 02 USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Cheshirewild @Ellen Fitz
He watched as the woman's own emotions mimicked his own and it kind of flipped a switch in his mind as the professional healer took notice. It took over and pulled Ayden out of his numbness, though before he could do or say anything a new voice called out to them and the woman, Lieutenant Enyd Madsen was her name he recalled, rushed off.
Ayden observed Enyd went to reach out to this new officer, Rem? He caught the name and how Enyd didn't actually follow through on touching him. Strange, Ayden wondered why then noticed the Benzite woman next to them, he knew she was dead as he couldn't get any emotions or thoughts off her. Only Rem and Enyd registered on his extrasensory reception.
Emotions that had just mirrored his own was coming from the new officer though it soon was pushed aside as the man, a Betazoid Ayden realised as he connected to Rem psionically. Though only a gentle soft caress against Rem's mind, not a probe, Ayden withdrew as it was so easy linking with other Betazoids that he had to remember to ask first especially after introductions.
He slowly got to his feet, he saw dried blood all over his hands, forearms and could feel it on his mouth, neck and his uniform. The stiffness of the blood told him he had been almost catatonic long enough for the blood to dry. Ayden recalled Derik's body was back in sickbay and he was utterly not prepared to see him again. Though Rem had asked Enyd to direct him to sickbay, Ayden had his duty to tend to and he couldn't just fall into an emotional abyss when others relied on him.
Ayden approached Rem and Enyd, he couldn't imagine how haunted he looked having blood on him in all the horror film places and not to mention how exhausted he felt. Though new determination gave him a little boost at the decision to focus on his purpose. "Hello Lieutenants Madsen and Rem," he hadn't caught the fellow Betazoid man's surname so left it for Rem to correct him. "Sickbay is this way, come." He said.
Turning around to walk back into Sickbay was the hardest thing he had ever had to force himself to do. Ayden had to say goodbye to Derik, now was the only chance there was but first he had to make sure Enyd and Rem were treated.
Last post by Cheshirewild -
[ Lieutenant Junior Grade Rem Kile | Mess Hall | IKS Kajunpak't | In transit to rendezvous with Theurgy ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz
The Betazoid expected something different, perhaps more personal or prying, which might have spurred him to make up something, but did he need to? This was a deep-cover assignment only in the fact that no one back at Command knew he was posted to Theurgy, and Enyd just confirmed what he had suspected, that all of the Starfleet personnel aboard Kajunpak't were transferring to the "rogue dreadnought."
"My opinion about gagh?" He blinked with owlish surprise and sat back, then broke into a grin of pure delight that encompassed his being. He pulled a metal bowl from his tray, full of wriggling half-meter worms. A few attempted to escape but he poked them back as he absently fingered them, considering an answer. He dangled a handful over his mouth and chewed them down, talking around his mouthful as he munched in an authentically messy Klingon manner.
"It's a delicacy on Elsaria," He explained, taking careful note as the three Klingons that accosted Enyd did not seem ready to give up their fun yet.
Last post by Auctor Lucan -
[ Captain Ives | Through the Barracks | The Great Hall | First City | Qo'noS ]
Attn: @Nero @chXinya @Stegro88 @SaraKnight
As the motley Sabine crew had progressed through the barracks of the Great Hall, they had faced two altercations, both threatening the lives of the Chancellor and the group of Starfleet officers.
In the first, even though they got aid from Klingons loyal to Martok, House Mo'Kai had ambushed them in a conference room. Jien had stayed close to the Chancellor, drawing her blade in his protection, and the fight had been brutal and much longer than she'd preferred. In the end, injured as some had been, the Klingons loyal to Martok had stayed behind to hold off the assassins, and Jien had shook the blood from her blade - pushing on through the barracks with her jaw set and her eyes affixed to the path ahead. If asked, she'd be hard pressed to tell how many Klingons she'd killed.
Next, two more Klingons loyal to House Martok appeared, but Gorka's followers had opted to use crude beasts to guard the Council chamber proceedings. Martok slew one of them, Mickayla another, while the last two went for Jien and the Klingons that they'd just encountered. The vicious animals had carried a momentum that knocked the two brothers off their feet, one of them mauled in short order. Jien had drawn her blade in a rising arc, cutting the second jackal's neck. It's hide was thick, however, and Arashi did not dig as deep as she had meant it to, leaving her open for the beast's fangs. With the full force of it's jaw around her left forearm, Jien's mimicked nervous system made her hiss through her teeth, and her form shimmered since her morphogenic matrix tried to compensate for the abuse. The jackal yanked its head back and forth, unbalancing Jien, but since the pain was superficial, she dug her feet in... changed to his male form instead just so that he got more leverage... and drove his sword into the creature's torso.
After he'd skewered it, hoping to hit the heart with the blade, the hilt of his weapon was torn out of his grip by the thrashing of the beast. It let go of his forearm though, freeing him long enough to let him find his footing properly. He glanced at the savaged remains of his forearm, being reminded of the abuse suffered at the hands of Semathal. With that dark memory in mind, Jien bared his teeth at the wounded animal. He stepped up to it, grabbed the hilt with both hands, and twisted the curved blade around inside the jackal's skewered torso. It grew limp with a whimper, and Jien tore the blade free, eyes already trained on the last creature.
It lay there, together with the two dead Klingon brothers, too wounded to rise. Jien walked over, checking on the status of the group, before he dealt a double-handed strike unto its neck - severing the spine of the creature below the skull. With all four jackals dead, and the Sabine team having suffered wounds from the fighting, Jien saw a figure at the far end of the barracks. He wore the emblem of House Mo'Kai, and he'd just witnessed the demise of his loved jackals. In a howl of grief and hate, he ran towards Martok with his bat'leth raised. Jien was not about to leave the Chancellor's life to chance, so he stepped past Martok to intercept the Klingon - sword coated with the blood of the Klingon's well-trained beasts. With the memory of the Scion's Nest in mind, Jien's calloused fingers curled around the hilt of his weapon.
He side-stepped the Klingon weapon, and dealt three consecutive cuts. One across, followed by a rising slice along the back. The Klingon had then fallen to his knees, doubled over, so the last strike claimed the head. In Jien's mind, he imagined it to be Semathal's four eyes looking up at him from the dusty stone floor, but he knew he'd never have that satisfaction. He stood tall, looked at his mangled forearm, and shifted his form so that the wounds and the torn fabric of his drab attire was whole again. He felt weakened, however, since his morphogenic matrix could not sustain much more abuse of that degree. Jien looked towards Martok. "How much farther?"
"We're nearly there. Come, this way."
Leaving the bodies where they lay, Jien sought the eyes of the survivors, now being down to just himself, Chancellor Martok, Selena Ravenholm, Deputy RraHnam, Lieutenant Amissa and Chief MacGregor. Most were hurt in some way, and the rest of the Oneida officers had fallen to the blades of House Mo'Kai.
Gorka, son of Margon, had a lot to answer for, just as the Houses that had sworn themselves to him.
SOUTHERN LANDING PLATFORM | THE GREAT HALL
Running through the firelight and shadows of the Great Hall, K'Tal's sworn men raced the stairs that led to the southern landing platform - ordered by the Head of Imperial Intelligence to save the Theurgy officers that were being ambushed at their shuttle. They would be late, they knew, but they would not willingly grant House Mo'Kai's assassins any spare time to finish what they'd intended. It had been an educated guess on K'Tal's behalf that an ambush had been laid, for why else would House Mo'Kai have granted landing clearance to a Theurgy shuttle? The 'fat glob fly on the wall', as as their master was called, was more clever than he looked, and the sight that met K'Tal's men when they emerged on the platform showed how right he'd been.
Mo'Kai assassins had beset the shuttle Rosalind Franklin, and they were making a run towards the door that the four House K'Tal warriors emerged through. They saw how the Theurgy crew fought back, or rather fled for their lives, whilst the black-clad figures of dark leather and black-painted steel cut into them. The advantage that the Starfleet officers had was that they had phaser weaponry, while the Mo'Kai warriros did not carry any disruptors because of the dampening field that permeated the air of the Great Hall's interior. Perhaps that's what may have saved their lives in those crucial moments of leaving the airlock, but K'Tal's men would not let them fight alone. With a thundering roar, they ran out on the platform to fend off the attackers still alive. What ensured was a brief yet bloody fight, which left them standing victorious and facing the remaining Theurgy officers.
"I am Tavek of House K'Tal," said the leader. "We will bring you to safety, where you will be able to correspond with K'Tal. He has to be present in the Council chamber, however, but the line of communication has been prepared. This way."
And down they went, heading straight for K'Tal's office, which was more or less adjacent to the council chambers... in which new development were to be witnessed on K'Tal's surveillance feeds - displayed on his computer console.
THE KLINGON HIGH COUNCIL | THE GREAT HALL
[ K'Tal, son of Machi, of House K'Tal | Klingon High Council Chamber | The Great Hall | Qo'noS ]
Attn: @Nesota Kynnovan @Brutus @Ellen Fitz
When K'Tal returned to the Klingon High Council... Gorka was there.
He could almost sense it as he passed into the chamber. The hushed atmosphere that had come to lay over the council. The large Head of House Mo'Kai, who's grandfather had been much smaller when he attacked K'Tal on that balcony the day before, thankfully did not notice K'Tal slipping into the chamber again. The mountain of a Klingon warrior paced the open chamber, his shaved head glinting in the firelight - eyes ablaze.
"Our Empire has been built for greatness, and while some of you find it a weakness to dabble in politics and treaties with the Federation, that is actually a sentiment I share with Martok, even if he has proved to be a traitorous coward. For like you all, I was misled in thinking he believed in the Kithomer Accords. It turns out he is colluding with the Romulans. With the Praetor, and give full aid and hiding to the renegade Starfleet ship called the Theurgy. A ship who's captain has split from his own fleet and killed thousands of his own in his service to Tel'Aura. Or perhaps it was Donatra, whom Martok has recognised as challenger to Tel'Aura. Bah, does it matter?" Gorka made a dismissive gesture, the firelight catching the weapons he carried on him. "Either way, Martok has shown his traitorous nature. Whatever the Empire was to be gained by siding with the Federation may just have been lost, since he was never the leader we believed him to be. His kin is slain, by a bastard son of his, and even though the Theurgy crew bear responsibility for his late son, Drex, son of Martok, still the scum in our Empire's seat of power value whatever deal he has made with the Romulans - siding with his son's murderers. He has no honour!"
Normally, K'Tal would be silent, and not interfere. Watching from the wall. Yet he found the words leaving him before he could stop them.
"You merely speak ill of our Chancellor because his bastard son, Morjod, killed your father," he offered quietly, yet in the silence of the council chamber, his voice still carried, and Gorka rounded on him.
"Like you killed my grandfather, K'Tal, you fat cur!" bellowed Gorka, drawing a mek'leth.
"Merely in defence," K'Tal found himself hissing, even if the presence and promise of violence that Gorka emanated was overbearing, even at a distance. He raised his chin, and his voice. "Because you conspired with Councillor Kopek to have your grandfather killed by my hand, knowing I would see him coming, so that you may claim House Mo'Kai for your own, and even claim the Chancellery in your grandfather's stead. Now, who is without honour?"
"Insolence!" boomed Kopek, looking even more murderous than Gorka despite his age. "Falsehood! You lie before the Council! I will have your head for this!"
"Of course you would. The fly knows to much, doesn't he?" K'Tal's smile felt stiff on his face. "That's why you picked me for this farce of yours."
That was when a set of double doors slammed open at the side of the council chamber, and in stroke Martok, along with Starfleet officers that must have been on the shuttle with the Chancellor. Seeing them, K'Tal feared less for his life, and the relief in knowing that the Sabine shuttle's crew had made it spread through his portly frame. Martok, at the head of the group, levelled his one-eyed stare at all the Councilors present.
The deafening silence was brittle, like glass carrying too much weight.
"House Mo'Kai," he said, his booming voice rising to the vaulted ceiling, "House Kopek. You have both conspired to slay me. Openly, and by intermediates, like the craven Targs you are. I have personally spoken with Rov, son of Pekdal, and he attest to your commitment in having me killed aboard the Theurgy."
That name made the Councilors stir, remembering the role Rov had played years before. Martok wasn't finished, however.
"Rov killed loyal men of mine, meaning to kill me as well. Before he named you both, he had infiltrated my men, and run his blade into a hologram that had taken my place. Today, Gorka and Kopek, the future of both your Houses hang in the balance... at my mercy."
Gorka drew himself up, eyes dead calm, the ire a cold flame. "I will kill you before then, for this Council will not recognise a traitor who collude with the Romulans. Your house has no future, and it will die with you today, so that the Empire may stand proud again."
K'Tal noticed how the appearance of one of the figures in Martok's company shifted... suddenly wearing a Starfleet officer's uniform with four pips in the collar. Captain Ives?
"Ravenholm, if you would be so kind?" said the Chameloid, directing himself to a female figure with cybernetic arms and legs, before he turned to the present Klingons. "The rumours about our Romulan ties have been greatly exaggerated by a common enemy. An enemy, one of which is present even in this very room... the only question being whom among you it is that represent them."
At this point, the Klingon Councilors were all upset, and K'Tal could barely hide his amusement, before he looked at the data tablet in his hand, which was connected to his office. He read the message from the other team of Starfleet officers while the spectacle unfolded in the council chamber.
OOC: So, @Brutus , @Nesota Kynnovan and @Ellen Fitz, finish up the fight, and in the end of your upcoming posts, it would be awesome if you had your characters in K'Tal's office, witnessing the development in the Great Hall above, and type a message to K'Tal so that the preparations with the anyon emitters can be completed. Once that's done, in the next posting round after this one, it is time to make a grand entrance to the Klingon High Council Chamber and - perhaps - voice the accusation that Kopek is an Infested, another stating that House Martok does have a future in a grandson that Gorka conspired to have abducted by House Torg, for example? Feel free to NPC Tavek too, of course.
@Nero @chXinya @Stegro88 and @SaraKnight, end your posts inside the Klingon High Council Chamber. I have a couple of ideas and suggestions for your characters, all optional, and perhaps they are best discussed over PMs or DMs for this phase, since there is a lot of detail to this situation.
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | Mess Hall | IKS Kajunpak't | In transit to rendezvous with Theurgy] Attn: @Cheshirewild
He was a most attentive listener, Enyd noted. With his eyes closed and his head tipping ever so slightly as if to hear more clearly the deeper nuances of her words, Enyd couldn't help but feel her own interest build. Few were inclined to find interest in vocal patterns, and from her experience, those who did were typically from cultures that possessed a certain hypersensitivity. Enyd smiled, curious if this man before her was from one such culture. Or perhaps he just liked voices?
When he opened his eyes again, Enyd was amused to see disappointment first and then an intriguing hesitation. His hesitation to take her hand was like sounding an air horn in the room. She quickly noted in her growing mental file on this man that not only was he hypersensitive, yet to be determined to which senses in particular, but it seemed he was also touch averse. Though he did eventually take her hand and seemed to warm up to the whole process of shaking it, she mentally kicked herself for offering it in the first place. She should've known better. One of the many rules of diplomacy: just because it looks like a duck doesn't mean it's going to sound like a duck, eat like a duck, or waddle like a duck, so don't treat it like a duck unless you know it is truly like a duck.
Watching a blush touch his cheeks, strangely still noticeable despite the horrendous red glare the overhead lights bathed them all in, Enyd didn't bother to hide a blush of her own when he complimented her name. Taking her hand back, she pushed a little at her hair self-consciously. It still safely covered her ears. Dropping her hand back to her mug, Enyd smiled.
"Mister Rem Kile," Enyd raised her mug in his direction and finished her drink. She then frowned at its empty bottom. "Why is the raktajino gone?" Heaving an overly dramatic sigh, Enyd looked back to Rem as she picked up her fork to begin on her pie. "If I told you why I was here," she waggled her eyebrows at him, "I may have to kill you."
Taking a modest bite, Enyd grimaced. It wasn't so much the taste, or even the texture, as it was the fact that it was food in her mouth in the morning. She'd learned years before that her body operated more optimally on two meals alone, preferably at the midday and early evening. Enyd had only come here and thought to attempt a breakfast so she could observe and potentially integrate into the culture while she had the chance. It seemed, however, that her body was going to betray her mind and rebel against her diplomatic efforts.
"Blast," Enyd set down her fork, "please excuse me a moment, Mister Kile, I'm going to need another mug of raktajino." She stood, stared at the challenge that was to be her breakfast, and sighed. "Make that two more mugs of it. I'll be right back."
Enyd moved swiftly and silently through and around the throng of Klingons congregating around the mess hall. It had already filled to nearly double the occupants from when she'd first arrived, making the "coffee" retrieval process far more difficult than before, though, blessed be, not impossible. She had two mugs in hand, a triumphant smile touching the edges of her lips when she turned to make her way back to Rem.
A living wall walked in front of her and stopped. By wall, it was an exceedingly large, broad, and strong-smelling Klingon man who, when she tipped her head up and nearly had to rock back on her heels to see him fully, snarled an ominous grin at her. Enyd sighed and, without preamble, took a sip from one of her mugs. She knew she needed more caffeine for whatever was about to happen.
"What is a puq doing in a Starfleet uniform?" While the intended insult was in his native tongue, he spoke a heavily accented Federation standard to ensure Enyd understood his intent.
An only slightly smaller, though no more handsome Klingon man, shifted to stand beside the first, further barring her path. His eyes undressed her. Enyd got the feeling he was assessing how many cuts it might take to get to the center of her body, like one's assessment of a lolly when thinking of licks.
"Perhaps they are so desperate for bodies to throw at their enemies now they recruit pujwI' ghu into their ranks."
The men laughed at their own joke, at her expense, while Enyd schooled her features into a neutral expression.
"I'm afraid there is only one more seat at our table." Despite her size, Enyd knew how to modulate her voice for it to sound strong and commanding. For this situation, she did just that while also maintaining a diplomatic veneer of geniality. "If you want to join my friend and I," Enyd used their momentary confusion in response to her robust voice and her seemingly unfazed mannerisms to dance around them, "you will have to fight each other to the death for that honor." She raised her mugs in their direction, added a broad smile, "Have a nice breakfast."
Her smile was still on her face when she sat down across from Rem. She slid the extra mug into the space between them.
"I can't promise I won't drink both of these, but if you beat me to that one," Enyd indicated the extra mug with a tip of her head while she raised the other to her lips, "I won't fault you for it."
After taking a long drink, again not caring at the drink's temperature, Enyd sighed in momentary contentment.
"To answer your question in mostly truth," Enyd returned to his question as if there had been no interruption, "an old family friend directly recruited me. He believed my unique background and more recent experiences might prove useful to the Theurgy. As I had no other pressing offer aside from remaining on Vulcan," Enyd gave a half shrug, "I no longer have family ties on Earth or elsewhere to worry about when thinking of joining a 'renegade' crew." She smirked at the description, certain Rem had been given near the same briefing as she regarding the truth behind Theurgy's recent decisions.
Stabbing the fork back into the pie, but seemingly more interested in moving the contents around than to eat them, Enyd threw a coy smile across the table at her companion. "A question answered for a question posed." Leaning conspiratorially closer, Enyd whispered, "So long as you don't have to kill me by telling me," she let the mirthful words hang between them before she continued, "but what is your true opinion on gagh?"
Last post by Cheshirewild -
[ Lieutenant Junior Grade Rem Kile | Mess Hall | IKS Kajunpak't | In transit to rendezvous with Theurgy ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz
The woman seated before Rem possessed a most intriguing accent, lilting and melodic with crisp consonants and emphasis on the long vowels. He closed his eyes bent his chin to listen more intently. It was then that he caught a very subtle fragrance, cool, sweet but slightly tangy with a clean, verdant, slightly earthy undertone. The smell of sweat, metal, meat, and alcohol permeating the room nearly overwhelmed it but its unique character stood apart as if in pure spite, demanding its place among the senses.
The Betazoid blinked his eyes open when the woman stopped, his brow creased in disappointment, as he quite enjoyed the experience. He noticed the hand then and a conflict roused in his mind.
Once, long ago he craved physical contact. Elsarian society depended on it for comfort and communication. Betazoids as a race thrived on physical intimacy even among casual friends, but war burned his tender impulses. A life filled with violence, both endured and inflicted left him with deeply rooted shame. A hint of pleading entered his gaze but pleading for what? Did he want her to spare him from the pain of healing, or did he plea for more, a return to a time when he embraced freely and loved without condition? He did not know and he felt torn with a simple gesture. He took her hand, haltingly at first but once they touched he warmed and returned her greeting with more confidence-and relief. He held on too long and withdrew with a flush of warmth in his pale cheeks.
"Enyd Isolde Madsen," he weighed each syllable as he pronounced her name. "It sounds very delicate with hidden strength. It suits you. I am Rem Kile, Lieutenant Junior Grade. A pleasure to meet you. How did a member of the Diplomatic Corps end up here?"
Last post by Ellen Fitz -
[ Lt. Enyd Isolde Madsen | Mess Hall | IKS Kajunpak't | In transit to rendezvous with Theurgy] Attn: @Cheshirewild
Enyd had just about convinced her stomach that it was time to receive nourishment, despite her preferred intermittent fasting, when a voice speaking Federation standard pulled her from her self-negotiation. Opening her eyes, Enyd looked up to find a tall, quite pale Asiatic humanoid in a Starfleet uniform smiling down at her. He wore the pips of a Lieutenant Junior Grade officer, and Enyd didn't need to be standing to recognize the fact that he, too, like most others, would dwarf her in height. His dark hair was long, pulled back into a regulation-style ponytail, sharpening his almost pixie-esque appearance. His black eyes appeared kind, curious, and Enyd immediately smiled in return, nodding towards one of the empty seats at the table.
"Please do." She sat up straighter and thanked the caffeine in her drink that she now felt energized enough to engage in polite conversation beyond grunting. "I rather placed myself as bait, sitting over here alone, curious whom I might snag." Enyd paused, tipped her head to the side, then sighed out a soft laugh. "I'm sorry, that sounded rather ominous, didn't it? The caffeine must not have taken as much hold as I'd hoped." Enyd picked up her mug and frowned at it as if the liquid were to blame for her verbal quirks. "What I was trying to say," after taking another quick sip, she smiled at her tablemate, "is that I am a member of the diplomatic corps, and I felt sitting apart from the larger group of Starfleet personnel would afford a greater opportunity to observe and understand the Klingon culture. Without continued exposure to anti-Klingon biases."
She hadn't meant the latter as an insult, merely as a statement. But understanding that this could be interpreted as an invitation to shove off, Enyd was quick to channel open friendliness into her voice when she added, "Still, despite the uniform," she winked, "you are most welcome." Enyd reached a hand across the table before she could think better of it. "I don't believe I've met you yet. I'm Lieutenant Enyd Isolde Madsen."
[ Lieutenant Ayden Tyre | USS Allegiant | Approaching Praxis ] Attn: @Fife
Although his grieving Derik had yet to pass, Ayden was glad to be off the Theurgy and in the thick of action so he couldn't dwell on the pain. It had threatened so many times to take over completely but his Physician mind kicked in earlier to keep the emotions at bay.
He appreciated Lieutenants Madsen and Kile for resetting his priorities as he had his duty as Chief Medical Officer to the crew. Although they had lost 70 of their family, they had to keep going as the Klingon Empire needed them to prevent the Parasites from screwing up everything. He was still filling out death certificates when he was summoned for the away mission to Praxis.
He casually made the half decision to seek counseling later, though it will be a long time before he could be okay. A part of him still had the desire to join Derik, it was sneaky and occasionally got to the forefront of his thoughts when he was distracted.
Ayden had greeted each of his fellow Allegiant crew members before he approached the Vulpinian. "Ensign, I'd like to do a quick check up of how you are recovering at your next convenience," he said with a smile that didn't really reach his eyes. He then headed for the small sickbay just down the corridor.
He sat at the console and connected his datapads to the Allegiant's computer. They had the medical files of all the 70 crew members that died and the death certificates he was working on prior. Additionally the battle reports and sensor logs from Thea. Ayden got to work on the certificates once again.
"Cross to Doctor Tyre, what's your status?" Cross' voice came over the intercom, "I know the Allegiant's Med Bay isn't as well equipped as you're used to, but make whatever preparation you can. We don't know what the away team might run into down there."
Ayden half smiled at his friend's voice, he was glad that he was still with them. Suddenly the war between survivor's guilt, self loathing and desire for revenge as well as to live in Derik's honor played inside him for several moments. He clamped down on his emotions and tapped at his combadge.
"Tyre here Commander, I managed to get just enough supplies and equipment but I hope you made it clear to the infiltration team that as well and not get into too much trouble." He stated, "also why isn't there a medic with them?"
[ Lieutenant Junior Grade Rem Kile | Corridor | Deck 11 | "The Sword" Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Ellen Fitz , @Sqweloookle , Anyone
"Dead," Rem peered with his one good eye. The voice sounded familiar until his vision cleared. "Enyd, Lieutenant Madsen! No, she-Detos can't be dead. We were just talking! She and Klein escorted me to sickbay. We met a boarding party. Lost Klein in the confusion. She can't-" He turned his attention to the Benzite in his grasp and dared to reach out to her mind. A surge of bile and grief threatened to overwhelm him.
"She helped me defend the computer core." He choked. "I wouldn't be here if not for her. Detos, I'm so sorry. I wasn't fast enough. I'm-" He pinched his eye shut and a visible shift passed over him. All sense of grief and exhaustion vanished, replaced with stone-faced determination. The Betazoid pushed to his feet and gently took Detos into his arms.
"I have her, Lieutenant," his voice betrayed no strain. "If you would, please direct me to sickbay."