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EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Lt JG Hi'Jak | Holding Cell | USS Theurgy] attn: @Auctor Lucan @BZ @Numen
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Ida had managed to scare Jack, far more than the Borg. Every waking second now was a moment where he was counting down to one death or another. The Liutenant didn't even get a change of clothing so he was still in the Savi suit that he had been wearing for the last... he had no idea, time had blended together thanks to the time spent on the Versant. He had assumed that being back on theurgy would have meant that he would be able to ascertain how long it had been, but the truth was everything was nebulous. There was no direct contact.

The ship didn't explode after the first tense hour, the sounds of running and haste had died down, which meant that they had somehow survived. But in the holding cell the three officers did not have access to any information, so what survival looked like was a bit awkward.

Hi'Jak knew that they had planned to detonate the omega device via the instructions he had provided. He hadn't been able to read all of that file when he had stolen it in a fire fight, but he could guess that it's reach was probably restricted to the nebula it's self. If they were in the blast zone, they would have already died so he could check that off the list of ways he was currently going to die.

The lights hadn't turned green and the tempature had remianed constant so the ship hadn't been assimulated another check mark for survival.

Which meant that somehow against all odds the ship was safe, which left the worst case scenario.

He was going to be handed to the Klingon empire as a peace gift. Ida had made that fact that very clear. Jack had inadvertently killed the emperors son, and now he was stuck in a holding cell trying to sit, and be quiet. He had set into motion too many plans, too many wrong doings, he was done trying to manipulate things, if he was going to die, he could at least try to face his execution with dignity.

He looked to the two other prisoners that had been shoved into the place. "So.... What are you in for?" It was the first words he had spoken in what felt like forever. He had forgotten how much he normally liked the sound of his own voice.

He figured he would go first. "My name is Hi'Jak," He said giving his Klingon name rather than the human variant, He was sharing the room with a klingon after all... who's hands had a very familiar substance, and an oddly flowery scent. He tried not to think about it, but he knew Lahkesis intimately. He knew the smell of her blood because he had played with her aggressively on the Versant.

"I'm in for treason." He decided to rip that bandage off in the moment though he kept his voice down across the way there were klingons locked up survivors of various ships. He didn't really want to have to explain himself to any of them, but at the same time considering where he was, and what was bound to happen he had nothing to hide at this point.

 His eye went to the woman, also from the versant, also unfamiliar to him, and lastly the Romulan male. All three officers that he had no idea what their deal was. "Seems a bit over crowded in here."

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #1 –
[Lt. Zephyr Praise | Time Aplenty |  Cuddles are Appropriate |  Brig Buddies]
@Numen @Masorin


She had insisted, when they were brought down to the Brig, that she and Khorin be housed in the same cell.  There weren't many options, but considering the mild nature of her crime she could have been docked with others.  Those that weren't murderers.  She didn't care, she told them she was sticking with Khorin and if she had to cause a larger problem, she would.  Well, they didn't need that kind of issue with how over flowing the Brig was today so they stuck them in with Human.  They stepped in, it wasn't too crowded, there was room but Zeph didn't want to separate herself from Khorin.  So when he sat down with her guidance, still in a bit of a shock himself, she squeezed in next to him and wrapped her slender arms around one of his large ones.  Leaning in she whispered to him causing him to cuddle up with her. 

She could tell how deeply effected he was.

~We will figure this out together, my heart~ she whispered into his mind, her fingers brushing his braids out of his face and behind one of his ears.  ~I will stand beside you come what may.~

An hour had passed since then.  Zephyr had, at some point, shifted into his lap so that he could hold her entire body against his.  She rested her head on his chest right where it met his shoulder.  Forehead resting against the pulse of his neck.  She could hear the steady thrum of his heart, and feel the wafting emotions that went from guilt, to disbelief, to anger, to severe depression, and then sometimes to love and comfort.  She probably looked like a small doll, curled up in the massive arms and against the large chest of the Klingon.  But, she didn't care what she looked like.  She had seen him kill, seen him go to battle, he had seen her do the same.  The blood on his hands did not scare her, she had felt his fear, his outrage, his confusion when he woke up.  As connected as they were she could feel it all and hoped to vouch for him when the time came.

The adrenaline that she had injected herself with during the Versant treatment, was all gone, the body she had pushed far beyond it's norm had given out, and though Zeph had only meant to close her eyes for a moment she had, at some point, fallen asleep.  Her breathing deep and soft.  Sleeping against a Klingon accused of murder, and yet she didn't seem to mind in the least.  She slept quietly, only for about twenty minutes or so when the voice of someone across the cell woke her.  His words stating his name, and asked what they were in for.  Zeph inhaled a long sharp breath, of a body just waking from a deep sleep, though her dark black eyes didn't really want to open.  She was so tired, she wanted to sleep curled up against Khor some more.

“mmmm” Zeph slid a pale dirty hand upwards and rubbed her eyes before blinking them open sleepily.  She could feel Khor shifting around her, and she could feel his discontent that someone had woken her.  “I'm Zephyr Praise, doctor, Lieutenant.” she said punctuated with a large cat like yawn before snuggling back into Zephyr.  “I punched and attacked an asshole that was coming onto me.  He was a Security asshole so... now I'm here.” she shrugged.

He stated he was in for treason, her brow rose, and her dark eye slid sideways to surveil the Klingon across the room.  She would have to figure him out and it wouldn't be as easy as Khorin who had just snapped into place with her.

“Well that sounds intriguing.  Got a story behind that, or you just gonna throw it out there?”

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #2 –
[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai |  Holding Cell | Brig | USS Theurgy]
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Att: @BZ @Masorin @Auctor Lucan


They were led to the brig in a methodical manner, following the usual protocols for dangerous prisoners. Zeph insisted on staying with him, even though the crime she had committed was a mild one. The Klingon didn't know exactly WHAT she had done, aside of not belonging to the crew... maybe he had heard a little tumult when he was shot down by the Sec officers.... Had she provoqued that? She had shown that she was fierce enough to have done something like that. He glanced at her and tried to extend a hand towards the woman, but he could not. The cuffs in his wrists didn't allow it. Khorin extended his fingers and closed them again in loose fists. The dense substance covering them had been her blood. Not Zeph's. HERS.

The scene repeated itself again in his mind eye, over and over again. He wasn't really there, handcuffed, walking side by side with the woman who had entered her life like a cyclone to stay. It was in the recent past, in another corridor. So he clung to the only thing that could get through the cloud of his memories. Zephyr. He clung to her presence and followed her. He traced her steps like a lost puppy would follow the first person to give it a caress. He let her make the decisions and herded him to... wherever they went. He really didn't care much. He was too numbed to really care about anything anymore.




Much later, he found himself sitting on the cold floor of a cell. In fact, he wasn't alone there, apart from him and his kyamo there were more people there. And yet, despite this, the cell was clearer than the surrounding ones, many of which were crowded to a point Khorin had never seen. He could see a bunch of starfleeters in a close one. Barking and insults in klingonese were heard in another cell nearby. That had no sense at all. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him again? He dreaded to thing that he was losing control again.

The warmth of Zeph's body against his, and her voice in his turbulent mind brought him back to reality. She was the only thing that prevent him from plunging back into the cloud of guilt and disbelief that threatened to devour him. Her words sounded reassuring and warm inside his skull. He wanted to answer her. He wanted to use that bond that linked them. Lett her know how deeply he thanked her for... being there. For being her. But, for some reason, he couldn't. He felt that his guilt would stain it, and her by extension. So, he simply looked at those pitch-black eyes with ones full of sorrow.Right after, he leaned slightly, just to rest his ridged forehead in her hairline, his now free hand rising to caress her face. But he stopped just before touch her skin.

The blood of the woman with the bluish hair had coagulated in his fingers. That viscous mass was a reminder of what his hands were capable of doing. What if the next time Zephyr was the target of his wild anger? He could not allow that to happen. He had to get away from her. He had to. He tried, but could not. Her small hands hold him in place, as much as her tender mind.


So he stayed.


At one point, she huddled in his lap and fell asleep. Khorin hold her tighly, making a protective cocoon around her, parasitizing her warmth, the softness og her skin and the soft purring of her sleeping mind.


Unfortunately, her sleep also left him alone with his own thoughts. Guilt impregnated everything, but with it was intertwined the incredulity of what he had done. It didn't seem real. Everything was fogged in a reddish stain. Just thinking about it make that desperate anger that had possessed him gurgled again, threatening to take control of his actions another time. When he realized he was falling into that trap, shame took hold of him. He disgraced his House with his actions. And the promise he had made to his mother so many years ago. There was no Honour on what he had done. Dishalent arrived later to his heart, plunging him deeper and deeper into guilt... Only a few times he could scape form his own feelings:  when she shook in her dreams, holding on to his chest, when her calm breath caressed the skin of his neck. Every time, he looked at the betazoid that slept protected in his arms and everything was forgotten for a second, submerged in the tide of feelings that she provoqued on him. And every time, every time, he hugged her with more strength, melting a bit inside.

Finally, he allowed himself to rest his cheek on the crown of her head and sighed. The braids that she had made in his mane fell  like a curtain over her face. It was then that he realized it. She had knotted each of those little braids with a small lock of her own hair. A meticulous job just to make him comfortable. The Klingon couldn't help but gently kiss that woman, that woman he cared for as much as she  seemed care for him. It was something unique. Special.

That act didn't go unnoticed, and the Klingons in the adjoining cell resumed their jokes, this time with Khorin and his apparent weakness as a target. Douglas looked at them defiantly and, if the looks could kill, that would have struck them down in a blink. But he didn't risk of waking up Zephyr. But for sure he would exchange some nice words with those petaQ later.

Unfortunately, that was also the moment chosen for one of their cellmates to begin to speak, which ended up waking the betazoid. The man rubes him in the wrong way just for that, and Khorin looked at him with a frown deeply knitted over his eyes. Something in the man seemed odd. Maybe the scar over his blind eye. Maybe the expression, like he believed he was more intelligent that anyone else around. When he declared that he was there for treason, Khorin distrusted the crippled man even more.


So he watched silently the brief word exchange between Zeph and the other convict, evaluating the room mood. "Everyone here is a felon you cabbage" he finally snarled to the long haired human. Khorin wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box, but even he knew that divulging to the four winds that he was a traitor was a bad idea.Even if it was done with a wimpy whisper as such that HiJack guy has done. His name, as Klingon as the pilot's, only increased the Lone Wolf reluctance.

After a moment of tense silence, in which he pressed the woman in his lap against his chest, making it clear that he would protect her to the last consequences, he decided to introduce himself. "I'm Khorin. Khorin son of Margon" . However proud he was of his position on his House he wouldn't risk that the story of his dishonor were spread around the Empire. He wouldn't tarnish Drax's reputation with his failures.

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #3 –
[ Drauc T'Laus | Holding Cell | Brig | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Masorin @BZ @Numen
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Seated against the wall in the cell, with his hood pulled up over his head, Drauc had rested before the human with the missing arm and eye spoke. At that point, he'd opened his eyes, and stared at the amputee through the tresses of his burgundy hair - most of his face still concealed by the darkness inside his hood. For the last hour, he had been absorbing the thoughts and emotions around him, allowing himself to become a mere funnel for their fickle notions or worries, and by increasing familiarity, he could eventually reduce it all to a background noise, in which the currents sparked no thoughts of his own. Did not disturb his own self. The Betazoid was asleep, yet she'd likely experience him as an... echo once she came to... or a mirror of what she already sensed. Perhaps... even an amplifier.

The Betazoid, awoken, asked the traitor if he cared to elaborate on what he'd done, which let Drauc turn his stare towards the Klingon, who wore his regrets plainly - apparent even for those without psionic abilities. Khorin, as he'd been named, the cause of his distress - or the memory of it - it was... like a man who'd imbibed too much alcohol, and in his stupor, he'd done something terrible. Restraint lost... much like Drauc had lost his own senses and killed a Klingon, all those years ago. As for the woman, her regrets were nominal, and appeared to be present out of solidarity towards the Klingon in his far deeper plight.

For Drauc, what he felt beyond the forcefield of their common holding cell was the cacophony of jocose Klingonese jargon, rage and bitter lamentations. It was all laced by other men of Starfleet, who had made the Theurgy their enemy. People, some of whom Drauc had fought that morning, when the Dauntless boarded the Theurgy's saucer section. Others were Devoted, whom Drauc had fought earlier, before the Theurgy split into three ships. it would seem some escaped their sealed quarters in the battle at the apertures.

"The sins of all are not limited to a location," he rasped, his damaged vocal cords reverberating inside the darkness of his hood - which he turned towards the Klingon. "We all err, and your sin was not of your own volition, Khorin son of Margon. In that way, we are alike, for you slayed a woman in the bloodlust of the battlefield, not knowing you stepped off it."

He then turned his hood towards the amputee, and his deep voice grated the answer to his question. "I killed an ally in the Dominion War, a dishonourable Klingon in Starfleet medical care. I used excessive force, far more than required, for I too was beside myself with grief." He flexed a scarred hand within his frayed sleeve, looking into the amputee's eyes. "I deserted the fleet then, for I knew my actions might undermine the brittle truce of those times. I have turned myself in at last, after I fought to defend this ship."

He would say more, but they would not care - their own lamentations more important to them. He turned his hood away, while he kept flexing his hand to preserve mobility. "I am Drauc T'Laus. Before your suspicion become words, Betazoid... Yes, I can read your every thought."

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #4 –
Lt JG Hi'Jak | Holding Cell | USS Theurgy] attn: @Auctor Lucan @BZ @Numen
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It seemed his question had woken up the women in the cell, who was being cuddled by the Klingon, and he got his little sharing circle, as everyone spoke their names at least. She said that she was here for assault, and the other two men were here for murder, which meant that the klingon had in fact killed Lahkesis, he would recognize the smell of her sap, and felt a small pain of loss. He had relations with that doctor, not much else, but she had been good company when he had needed it.

Jack nodded when he was asked if there was a story behind his act of treason. "There is, but." He gestured with his one remaining arm towards the brig, somewhere outside of their cell there was a group of klingon warriors whom if Jack spoke too much would very much want him dead. Not that he supposed it mattered anymore, he wasn't going to live Ida was going to make certain of that. "Actually no buts, this is probably the only chance I'll get to share my story."

"I was a member of Klingon Intelligence." Hi'Jak couldn't help but give a slight chuckle at the name. "Khorin Son of Margon house of Mo'Kai could tell you about them, Mo'Kai and intelligence have always had a bit of a strained relation, we have a historical habit of arresting them."

In truth he didn't need to add the jab towards the warrior, but he wanted too. Khorin currently was an easy target, not only had he killed someone he regarded as a friend, but also he currently represented everything that had been taken from Hi'Jak by the savi, while Jack strained to breath with only two lungs the man had all three of his intact, while Jack had one arm the man had all of his intact, the differences between them went on and on like that, and in almost all the scenarios Jack had gotten the lesser stick. To say that made him dislike the other klingon was an understatement envy was always a gross emotion.

With two psychics in the room with him it wasn't like he could hide any of what he felt, so he just allowed himself to exist as he was a miserable pile of bones barely held together by burnt and stitched flesh. "When I came aboard I was selected for a mission to a Klingon Outpost in the nebula. I was told that I had been selected so that I could deliver a message to the chancellor."

He sighed, still a mix of emotions around him he didn't know exactly how to feel about what he had done. "I couldn't send it as intended, I intentionally botched my mission all because at the time I was obsessed with trying to save lives. I let my morals get in the way of my duties, and."

He gestured towards his arm and eye. "I've been paying the price for my failure ever since." For the two that could hear him without his lips moving he thought freely.

I killed Chancellor Martok's only son, not intentionally but intent does not matter. If and when we get to the Empire's space I've been told I will be handed over to the high council. Klingon executions are... brutal affairs, but it doesn't matter how I feel about it, the fact remains that it will happen. I will get to see Qo'Nos one last time as my body will be broken and displayed as a reminder to others not to stray too far from honor.

"and I am oddly at peace with that."

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #5 –
[Lt. Zephyr Praise | Crowded and Nosy | Riling the Klingon | Soothing the Angry Mind | Brig Confessions?]
@Auctor Lucan @Masorin @Numen


She could feel Khorin's emotions; the way he was displeased with the situation that had woken Zephyr from her slumber.  To be honest, she wasn't overly joyed but then she hadn't exactly expected any real sleep here anyway.  She had no idea that he had discovered the way that she had kept his braids secure, anything else wouldn't have stayed during battle and so forth.  She had needed to make sure that the ties were going to secure them.  So, she had used some of her own hair, just a few strands for each braid to keep them there securely. 

The loud jabs and teasing that came from the other cell where many other Kligon were being held caused her to lift her head for a moment.  She was not afraid of the Klingon and stared all of them down as they shot insults and sneers across the corridor.  She didn't understand them, but she could understand their purpose through Khorin.  She could tell that he was mad and his protective instincts of her had kicked in much like when they were on the Savi ship.  It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out.

Khorin gave his name, and nothing else, she didn't feel like that was a bad idea.  His mind was still in turmoil.  I can't believe I fell asleep when he still needs me so much. she thought to herself as she burrowed into his arms.  She could move, but he was warm, and sturdy and she felt like her being there and touching as much of his body with her own as she could was probably helping him stay calm.  She could feel the waves of emotions.  How they came and went, with heavy grief and sorrow and the acceptance but understanding that Zeph still stood beside him regardless.

Zeph perked her head up when their fourth member of this little group had finally spoken.  His face hidden behind the hood that he wore over himself, but she could feel him very clearly.  She could tell he was like her, his mind; like her own, was absorbing all that could be felt and seen and heard.  Much of it was background noise but some of it was loud and she had to deal with it, sort it, and move with it.  Though as he spoke, to the one who's heart beat in pace with her own, she couldn't help but relax more.  His words were a salve that she knew Khorin needed. 

Leaning against Khorin's shoulder she could tell that he was still tense it would take time for his soul to accept what had happened and move forward.  But he wold, he was strong, and he had her.  She hoped that would help some.  The stranger looked at her and said before she asked, yes, he could read her every thought.

“Ditto.” she stated calmly with a shrug.  She had nothing to hide at the moment.  She was too exhausted, and far too worried about Khorin.  “But, thank you, for your words..” she said softly.

The Human began to speak to tell them his story.  She didn't know what to think about it she felt there was likely far more to the story but he had killed someone because of his treason and she wondered how heavily it weighed on him.  If it did at all.  He seemed to want people to know though, which she found interesting.  Those that committed treason didn't often want their whole processes known.  At least, she wouldn't think so.

She wasn't sure why, exactly, but she could feel Khorin bristling underneath her.  His hands clenched against her, not painfully, but she could tell between the jeers across the corridor and the man across their own cell, that Khorin was walking a fine edge between sanity and rage again.  She sighed softly and reached her hand up to lay her hand on his cheek.  A warning rumble echoed through his chest, and she knew he was getting pissy. 

“I may have been able to calm him down the first time, but I can't guarantee I'll be able to do it again.” she warned the human across the way.  Her eyes shifted to the Klingon's across the corridor.  “If you want to retain your skins when there aren't two force fields to protect you, I suggest you shut your mouths before I shut them for you.”

A few of the Klingon were surprised, this little tiny upstart woman was threatening them, but the fire in her eyes said she believed that she could do it and it made some of them a bit unsure of what to do or think now.  She stared them down, not looking away for a long moment making sure they knew she was serious.  Finally, she looked away.

~I have your back, no matter what.~ she told khorin softly in his mind over their connection.

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #6 –
[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Holding Cell | USS Theurgy]
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Att: @BZ @Auctor Lucan  @Masorin


Khorin hadn't noticed the hooded man with whom they shared a cell until he spoke. The man looked like a tramp, covered in rags and missmatched clothes. This, together with the hoarse tone of his voice made him look like a bearer of bad news, the herald of bad omens that appeared in every opera. The Klingon felt how the hair on his neck stood up suddenly.


Despite the man's ominous appearance, his words were somehow comforting. Drauc, as he called himself, seemed to have experienced something similar, something that the downcast warrior could relate. It resounded in him, in a certain way. When the hooded man removed the garment that darkened his features, Khorin couldn't hide his surprise, looking at his obvious Romulan features. "I lost myself in battle, in bloodlust, and I don't know if I will ever do it again" He lowly rumbled, observing the romulan's haggard face. It seemed as if someone had used his forehead to check the sharpness of their bat'leth. Countless times. When he overcame the initial shock, he kept speaking, guilt plain in his words. "How can I trust myself again if I don't know if I'll be able to dominate my rage next time? If I'm not sure I won't harm another ally... or someone closer to me?" The Klingon shook his heavy head. "Even when I wasn't fully myself then, I've murdered a fellow officer. There has been no honor in my actions. Whether or not it was my will to do what I did, I DID it... and I must assume the punishment for my acts..." If there was one thing that Heather Douglas had tried to instill in her stubborn offspring was that every act had consequences. While his happy-go-lucky nature made him rarely think long term, Khorin knew when he had screwed up. And he had do it this time.


Although the guilt was still there, the Romulan's words were... comforting in some way. Khorin opened his mouth again to thank him for his words, the cripple replied to Zephyr. The pilot closed his mouth again, listening as the pretentious Hi'Jak boasted  about belonging to the Klingon Intelligence and addressed the pilot with his full name, pointing to the tense relationship between his House and the organization. A low snarl echoed in the Lone Wolf's wide chest, as his hands cletched around Zephyr's small figure, anchored to her to avoid being dragged along by a new tide of rage. 


The story between Mo'Kai House and Klingon Intelligence had been... 'complicated' for centuries. Once known as 'watchers,' 'deceivers', and 'weavers of lies', his family had kept its own covert agenda for a long, long time. An agenda that had almost always clashed head-on with the interests of the intelligence department. Mainly because that agency served... the highest bidder according with what Margon had taught him. In fact, his own father had been detained on several occasions, even though his job had been more that of a diplomat than a spy. Probably someone hadn't been too happy with his fondness for Federation. For all this, he loathed the spy even more if it was possible.


Unaware of how Khorin was dangerously approaching the abyss of another outburst of anger, Hi'Jak kept prattling about his own story. Khorin didn't believe a word of it. Surely half of what he said was a plain lie, and the other half  only showed  him was that he was not only a traitor to the Theurgy people, but possibly to the Empire. Hi'Jak was a weakling who tried to justify himself so he don't need to face his own mistakes, his own weakness.


The growl in Khorin's chest grew louder, deeper. He leaned forward, closer to lost his self control. Only the shooting Zeph's hand in his cheek kept him in place, her warning to the spy pointed out how close he was to being swept away by anger again, guilt and remorse drowned by that unstoppable wave. Her mind voice resounded within his skull, reminding him that she was here for him, and he simple answered rubbing his coarse cheek against her palm. But he couldn't answer with words. Not yet.


Frustrated, looking for a target for that excess energy that he couldn't use to kill another time, he looked across the corridor, where the Klingons convicts seemed to have changed their attitude a bit. Some watched Zephyr with curiosity and respect, others remained silent,  staring thoughtful from the traitor to him and back again. Most of them were still barking obscenities and insults in tlhIngan Hol, enjoying that improvised curse game. "SoHvaD Hoch qaStaHvIS 'orDaq luSpet 'oH neH batlh Heghpu'!!!" Khorin barked at them, and the phrase was received with ovations and booing in equal parts, which did nothing but annoy the pilot even more.


Driven by the growing cacophony of Klingon voices, he turned to Hi'Jak. "What do you want from us, 'urwI'? That we listen to your whining and feel sympathy for you? That we sing your cowardly deeds when you die? You have a reserved seat in the Gre'thor, bIHnuch. Enjoy your reward and bIjatlh 'e' yImev" Khorin spat.



OOC

tlhIngan Hol → klingonese
SoHvaD Hoch qaStaHvIS 'orDaq luSpet 'oH neH batlh Heghpu' → You all belong in a black hole in the Netherworld!
'urwI' → traitor
Gre'thor → Klingon equivalent of terran Hell
bIHnuch → coward
bIjatlh 'e' yImev → Shut up (order)

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #7 –
[ Drauc T'Laus | Holding Cell | Brig | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Masorin @BZ @Numen
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Having pulled back his hood, the shimmer at the edge of the forcefield played over Drauc's features when he stared upon the deck, listening to the words said and sensing the minds of his cellmates. He did not mean to be intrusive, it was all just there, washing over him, like it had been crashing against the shoals of his mind - the hidden voices of the unsaid. He closed his eyes, steeling himself from being lost in the currents.

The Klingon gave voice to his regrets, Zephyr Praise - as she'd named herself - defended him, and threatened the burly company they kept outside their cell. The human, he explained his intentions, but only after verbally contending with the Klingon. The reason was plain to Drauc, and he would have not said anything if the Klingon had not raised the level of aggression in the cell with his retort. Khorin's ire threatened to spark Drauc's so he decided to try and end the argument before it began. He preferred the quietude.

The key lay in the face of the dead, and a name both left unspoken.

"Right of Vengeance," he rasped, turning his scarred countenance towards the two other men in the cell. "I care not for the Klingon ritual, much less witnessed first hand and in shared close confines."

Eyes shadowed by his browridge, Drauc elaborated in a quiet, grating tone. "Khorin son of Margon, you slayed Lahkesis Saugn, whom Hi'Jak held dear. She's in both your thoughts, the same face, only neither of you speak her name." Having said as much, he let the three digest just how deep the mire of tension was, before they even stepped into it. Then he turned to the amputee, his rasping voice levelled at him next. "You betrayed this whole ship and crew, antagonising High Chancellor Martok. We share these confines with the Klingons outside because Martok almost destroyed the middle section of this ship. I have heard fifty souls were lost. If you are at peace with this, then so be it."

Drauc flexed his hand again, his stare staying on the amputee, before he turned his head away - speaking to them both. "The cost of battle is always dire. Defeat - personal or not - is a price one must pay. You should not try to be reimbursed by those you have wronged already, for only the craven seek compensation where there is none to be found."

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #8 –
Lt JG Hi'Jak | Holding Cell | USS Theurgy] attn: @Auctor Lucan @BZ @Numen
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The other Klingon was being treated like a ravenous animal, even by his mate. The woman cautioned Jack that her Klingon probably couldn't be contained a second time, Jack moved his shrub of a left arm, his dead eye, though his eye brow was more in amusement. Though watching her take on a pack of klingon prisoners was more than a touch amusing for him as well.

Then Khorin had to actually speak. In rapid succession the man spoke about his fears of loss of the illusion of control, his belief that he could loose himself in bloodlust again like a newborn targ. Jack had only put in a single small jab at the man's house. But of course Khorin went in with the bigger harder swings. His words about how Jack only seemed to want people to cry for him. That in betraying the empire he had nothing left. The mind of a dying man was a curious thing, true none of these people would remember him once he was gone, and yet he had told his story because he had the opportunity.

All true things came out with this Drauc person. Yes Khorin had slayed Jack's own mate, and that was a sour point, he chuckled though when the Romulan spoke about the right of Vengeance. "Ah that would be a rather amusing duel don't you think Drauc?" He moved the stub of his body, and couldn't help the small grin that formed on his face. "It would bring new meaning to the phrase one hand behind my back."

"All things being equal, I'd even try for it, Lahkesis was a good woman, she deserved far better than to be trampled to death by someone pretending to be a true blooded warrior. There is a part of me that would even try to avenge her. Even now in my state." Though his voice was soft, Jack rose to his feet, clearly straining to take effort to do so. Ida had stunned him and then hit him, and even now hours later tossed in a cell his muscles were tired, and his body cried in a mix of exaustion and pain. He stepped forward, refusing to back down he stood his ground standing in the room with Khorin, but keeping his back towards the crowd of Klingons.

"But as someone once told me, this is not a KDF ship, we are not on Qo'Nos, the officers quarters are not decorated with the weapons of disappointing, and failed officers. This ship is Starfleet not Klingon, and even though I am a traitor and a spy I will act like the officer I was. till the time when they either remove my pips, or remove my head. I suggest, Khorin, that you start doing the same." One remaining blue eye searched out Khorin's refusing to back down, Jack's body trembled, he was afraid of what this other man would do, but he was determined to pass it off as just exaustion, his face hardened. trying not to show the weakness. "I suggest we both sit back down, and await our punishments."


OOC: 'ej=Murderer.

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #9 –

[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Holding Cell | USS Theurgy]
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Att: @BZ @Auctor Lucan  @Masorin



“Right of Vengeance...” Drauc's words resonated in Khorin's mind like a curse. He felt a pang of remorse when he settled his gaze on the spy. If the woman with the bluish hair had been his mate, if her heart had beaten in tune with his as Zeph's resonated with his own, the Lone Wolf could understand how the man felt. He turned his heavy head to look at the betazoid in his lap, that woman who had come into his life to stay and bowed his head towards her. The red tide that threatened to drag him withdrew slightly, leaving his mind slightly clearer than minutes before. Leaving more room for guilt and sorrow. Think about losing Zephyr, dying as Saugn has died, or that his actions took her away from him... that made him more afraid than anything else. ~”Sorry,"~ he said at last, when he found the words he hadn't been able to find until that moment. ~ "I'm so SO sorry, my kyamo.”~. He leaned his temple over her forehead and inhaled deeply. There was truth in Drauc's words. Too much truth.


Moreover, Khorin didn't want to face the traitor in a duel, even though he had the right to invoke the ritual. He knew that Hi'Jak wouldn't be a real threat for him, not in a combat with bladed weapons, crippled and corrected into his weakest part as he was. Although the spy had the right to invoke the rite, there would be no honor in defeating him in an unequal battle. In addition, neither Hi'Jak's death nor Khorin's blood spilled in the floorplates would bring back the dead woman. Nor would it alleviate the guilt in Margon's son.


For an instant, for an ephemeral instant, Khorin regained his calm. For a mere second he was who he had been before falling into the pit in the Versant... but soon the traitor's veiled insults and provocations revived his anger again. Worse still, Hi'Jak approached where he rested with Zephyr, penetrating in their personal space. When he stepped into that close distance, the snarl grew stronger in his chest and, this time, his upper lip curled, leaving his sawn teeth visible.


Before he could stop himself, he was standing. Zephyr's attempts to keep him seated were of no use and Khorin moved her to place her on his back, putting his massive figure between the woman and the former Klingon. The pilot cornered the amputee against the nearest wall, heavy breathing resonating between his clenched teeth. A thick hand closed around Jak's neck and pinned him to the wall, as the Klingon leaned close, his gaze boring into Hi'Jaks one remaining eye. He towered over him. "Listen to me, and listen to me well, because I will only repeat it once 'urwl'." he hissed slowly, the barely contained rage distilling from his voice. "Its impossible for you to hide behind your moral superiority. The moment you chose to betray the uniform is the moment you lost it. As far as I see it, you are't one of us anymore."  He growled. He move his gaze from the spy to the romulan. Although his hand had not loosened its pressure on Hi'Jak's throat, his voice sounded somewhat calmer, recalling the words of the ragged man. "But I remember my oath, despite my sins," he then said, releasing his grasp over the thin neck he was holding, allowing Hi'Jak's lungs to fill with air again. "It will be the captain who will judge and condemn you, just like he'll do with me."


Without deigning to look back at the traitor, Khorin turned on his feet and returned to the only woman in the cell. For a moment, he only stood in front of her, looking at her. His muscles were as tense as guitar strings, the corners of his lips trembling slightly, testifying the effort he was making to keep his anger under control. A new insult, a new challenge would cause it overflow again. And Khorin didn't know what atrocities it would make him commit this time.


With stiff movements he intertwined his fingers with hers and closed his eyes. His mind, a confused cacophony of conflicting impulses, reached for their bond. He clung to that strange connection that linked them with all his will, as a shipwrecked man would cling to floating debris in the middle of the storm.  " I refuse to shorten your journey to Gre'thor so still your tongue. Hi'Jak, son of none".



Kyamo → beautiful (used in this case as hypocoristic)
'urwI' → traitor
Gre'thor → Klingon equivalent of terran Hell

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #10 –
[Lt. Zephyr Praise | Klingon Gauntlet Thrown | Calming Down | Connecting Again | Cut the Next Man that Pisses Him Off]
@Numen @Auctor Lucan @Masorin



Khorin Douglas was still in a bad place.  Zephyr wished that there had been enough room in the Brig that the two of them could have had a private cell.  She was fairly confident with time and the two of them she could pull him down to himself again.  Right now, he was still hyped up.  All the Klingon rage and all the guilt from the murder of the doctor in the corridors was weighing heavily on him.  She hadn't even had a chance to process how she felt about it because she was spending all of her time and effort trying to keep Khorin off the ledge.  She knew he wasn't a murderer, not really; yes in this one circumstance but not out of cold blood.  It was out of fear, a knee-jerk reaction to a situation that he had not been aware of.  She doubted that anyone could really blame him.  Perhaps those that felt had felt close with the deceased but there was nothing she could do about that.  Khorin was a good man, and she continued to stand beside him.

Khorin was not happy about the man across the Brig from them.  Talking about his treason as though he was drinking a cup of coffee.  Though, she could feel his remorse, she knew that Khorin couldn't.  Still though, she wasn't sure that it was something that should be so easily spoken about.  For now though, she couldn't do much of anything except trying to keep the man she sat with calm.  Which was hard enough in his mental state.  Jak was only adding to it.  Zephyr really wanted to go to bat for Khorin but he didn't need her to fight his battles either.  He was a strong man and she was attracted to that as well as his warm heart.

He pressed himself against her.  Their heads together and she heard him apologizing in her mind.  Her eyes closed as she nuzzled into him softly.  Listening to his nickname for her, the one that she loved so very much.  She smiled softly.  ~I am here for you always, Khor.~ she whispered into his mind, brushing her fingers against his cheeks and just staying as close as she could with him.  ~You are a good person, you made a mistake, everyone does and you will remember such things.  You saved many people's lives on the Versant.  You are a true warrior.~

Again, the man with the odd colored hair spoke, and her eyes shifted over to him trying to figure out what his part in all of this was.  He seemed to be trying to take on mediator.  He mentioned that he had killed the woman that he and Jak were thinking about at the same time.  Someone that Jak held dear and someone that Khorin regretting killing. It was a mistake, and yet, it was done.  Nothing could wipe the pain of her death away so easily.  Drauc turned his attentions to Jak and called out his own crimes against the ship, the crew, and humanity -for lack of a better word.  If the man was settled with himself, if he was really settled with all the murder he had lay on the ship.  The stabbing of the backs, the twisting of the knives, then he was a lesser person than anyone else on this Brig.

And then Jak had the gall to make a joke.  Zephyr was not pleased.  You sick son of a bitch.  Now, Zephyr wasn't one to curse often, she only did it on the most rare occasions.  Zeph was much more the person to great people with hugs, smiles, and open acceptance.  But, the fact that he kept poking Khorin over and over again.  Almost goading him from the other side of the cell made her want to shove her Versant -given boot up where the sun would never find it.  As Jak spoke about avenging the dead woman, Zeph's shoulders tensed and shifted backward.  She was not about to let that bastard across the cell to her man.  He was in a fragile enough state and she could tell that he was just a quick phrase from the redzone.

Khorin stood up, she tried to stop him.  “Khor, don't.  You can't rise to his bait.  You're goi-”  He shifted her behind him and she stood there was he charged across the cell and lifted Jak up by his neck and shifted him against the bulk head.  Zeph took half a step forward but she could tell already that she wasn't going to get through to Khorin.  He wasn't going to kill the man, the intent could be felt in his mind for her, so she didn't intervene.  She could not save him all the time, she could only step in when it was necessary and maybe Jak needed to learn some damn manners.

Khorin's words weren't wrong.  The moment he had decided to betray the uniform was the moment that he lost it.  Finally, Khor released Jak and turned to come over towards her again.  She was still standing where he had left her. Zeph's eyes followed him as he moved as he came forward and she cupped his cheeks as he leaned down to lower himself to her level.

He was ready to pop.

He was ready to explode.

She pulled him down to her and brushed her fingers through his braids for a moment trying to calm him in the only way that she could.  Touch was not over rated even though the Klingon probably thought so and she was so small next to him.  Especially now that they were both standing.  She wished they were alone.  Alone she could conquer his demons, alone she could soothe his soul, and alone she could waylay his fears.  Here, she could do very little and she had a full audience. 

So instead, she sang a song.

In her mind, over their mental connection, a soft and soothing song in her own home language began to sing out in her own voice.  She knew that Drauc could hear it, and she cared very little if he did.  Slowly, she swayed with him to the tune and melody of the song playing in her head, a playlist of one, for two.

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #11 –
[ Drauc T'Laus | Holding Cell | Brig | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Masorin @BZ @Numen @Stegro88 @Lex Dalton
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Still seated, Drauc's dark eyes had sharpened behind the red tresses of his hair, watching the development. Despite his words, those of former and current Klingon blood were on the verge of fighting. The situation was devolving, their minds screaming of due violence, and as an eerie undercurrent, the Betazoid was singing wordlessly in his head. Not to him, but trying and sooth Khorin, to pull him away from the amputee.

The incentive for battle was there, pungent in his mind, and he was no longer flexing his hands. They had formed fists within the frayed sleeves of his robe. He felt his own pulse increase, his hear beating copper blood in his ears, and he was about to intervene. He did not wish to hurt the Klingon, but perhaps he had to. Then again, would it not be more right to join him? Drauc sought the path of the righteous, and he knew not whom to strike. Defend the weak? Subdue the aggressor? Hi'Jak was both. Drauc bared his teeth, and...

"Enough!" came the sharp call from outside the force field - like a concussion in the air.

Drauc slowly turned his head, and he saw the Andorian Deputy, whom had been abducted as well. ThanIda zh'Wann, who had boarded Starbase 84, and he'd fought alongside against Captain Hawthorne. She was wearing a newly replicated Starfleet uniform, and had a bundle underneath her arm. She was not alone, however. There were two other figures behind her.

The one to the right was a Klingon woman, without restraints around her hands and feet. She was also wearing a regular uniform, but judging by the minds of his cellmates, this Klingon woman had been an abductee as well. He picked up her name from one of them. A human name, oddly enough. Mickayla MacGregor. The second figure... had no mind to read. It was a machine. White and black, with a lens instead of a face. It had a female chassis, and the design was alien to Drauc, not that he knew much about robotics. According to those present, the machine did have a name. V-Nine, no more.

"Lieutenant Khorin Douglas," said the Andorian, looking at the pilot. "The circumstances of what you've done have become clear. Petty Officer MacGregor here suffers from the same chemical imbalance as you. Your minds do not govern your Klingon physiology, prone to violence and impulse not of your own volition. By Lor'Vela, there will be consequences for what you have done, but you will both be freed, on the condition that V-Nine - who told us about what you are going through - administers medication that will help you in your adaptation."

The Deputy, put a hand on her holstered phaser pistol, and turned her head to nod at the Brig Officer. The forcefield went down, and Ida looked at the Betazoid next. "Lieutenant Zephyr. You're free to go, but within the hour, you will contact Commander Martin, our Chief Science Officer. Whether or not you stay aboard is something you can discuss with her, but what you did has been added to your record. A uniform has been replicated for you and can be collected at the Aide's duty station. He can tell you where your quarters are."

Next, she looked at Drauc, who had yet to rise. "On your feet, T'Laus. You have aided this crew against the Infested, the Devoted, the Asurians and the Borg - even though you have never sought credit for your efforts. You deserted the fleet a long time ago, but there was someone who explained today what truly happened. Someone... who was at Starfleet Medical that day, and whom you saved from that Klingon. Why you did not say this right away escapes me.... but I expect there will be more talks. In any case, you may leave as well."

Jovela, thought Drauc, and slowly rose to his feet. He gave the amputee left in the cell another glance, before he stepped out.

"My gratitude," he said to the Andorian.

"Save it," said the Deputy. Then, while he walked with the other prisoners, the Klingon woman and the android, Drauc heard how Ida threw the bundle she had carried on the floor of the cell, right at the traitor's feet.

"Fresh clothes for you," she said, and Drauc noted how she hadn't said 'uniform'. "You will be turned over at Aldea."

The forcefield closed, and Ida followed them, ignoring whatever the amputee may say or shout after them.

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #12 –
[ Khorin, son of Margon, of House Mo'Kai | Holding Cell | USS Theurgy]
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Att: @BZ @Auctor Lucan  @Masorin


She started to sing. No with her outer voice, not for everyone around. Just for him. Hand on his cheek and the other interlaced with his. He didn't understand the words. He didn't need it either. It resounded in his brain and in his heart and told him about her. The tension on his shoulders ostensibly relaxed, and Khorin nuzzled her palm. He was far from calm. Far from controlling that tide of rage that he had tried to restrain for so long. But she was helping him to regain his balance.  As it must be there were only them. She and he. As it must be.

He closed his eyes again and held her hand against his cheek, rubbing her knuckles with a calloused thumb. The corners of his lips stopped trying to curve in a snarl. A heavy sigh left his lungs. ~"Zeph, I..."~

A bark in the other side of the force field pulled him out of their little bubble of calm, from his personal concert in a strange language. Khorin turned his head to see who had dared to interrupt them and found himself looking face to face to an Andorian sullen features. It was more than known that the Theurgy deputy wasn't so permissive and any act which she considered aggressive or dangerous would be subdue in the quickest and most efficient manner. Probably in a very VERY painful way. It was the least he needed at that moment. So, he kissed the back of her hands, and took a step back, away from the betazoid. He separated the arms from the torso and etched a smile in his face, in his best display of 'i'll be no trouble, officer' he could perform. A nice show of a klingon subtlety display. Which means, no so much.

Deputy zh'Wann called his name, and he rose his gace to face the woman. However, her eyes didn't stop long at the blue female, but wandered towards the familiar face behind her. Their former abductee fellow, Mickayla. According to the Sec. Officer, she had explained their situation, so soon it became clear that he owed her one. Chemical imbalance, shots... seemed like a very low bail for his crime. But he wasn't going to protest about it. Khorin assumed that sooner or later he should meet with the Alpha Wolf and he, or the Captain, would decide what he must pay for his crime. For now, he was more or less free. He nodded. "Thanks, Deputy" he rumbled, moving his eyes to the one who will take care of put him in balance again.

More than a who was a...thing. Khorin remembered seeing it with Ives on the Versant bridge. So, apart from their corrected bodies, the Theurgy was going to keep a piece of Savi junk. It could probably be useful for one of the wise-pants in science. For his part, he was somewhat... reticent to interact to the mechanical being. Until the last moment, he had had a less traumatic experience than most abductees. Yet he didn't like to have a constant reminder of what they had lived there. Looking himself in the mirror was more than enough.

Whatever the case might be, the Andorian lowered the forcefield, allowing them to get out. Only the traitor remained inside, fresh clothes on his feet and the promise that they would drop him in Aldea. Khorin snorted. Somehow, his threat to the cripple had been premonitory. In fact, he was no one of them anymore.

Without devoting any more thought to the one-eyed man, he turned to the Klingon woman and patted her back, roughly. "Glad you make it, MacGregor!,” he roared “I believe you had choose to run into Suto'vo'qor as fast as you could" he kept teasing, a sketch of his trademark side grin drew in his angular features.

But something took his attention away from the female. "Mo'Kai!!!!" barked someone in a heavy Klingonnese accent as soon as the group began to move away from the cell. Khorin turned unconsciously, and found himself staring to one of the Klingon prisoners. He was a warrior with grizzled beard and mane, but he still held the sturdy frame of a fighter. The old Klingon watched the younger one for a long time, as the silence thickened between them. There were something in those pale blue eyes that Khorin didn't like.Maybe it was how he looked at him from top to bottom, or the shade of a smirk in his face.  

"You're one of Drax crotch spawn" he said at last, pointing Khorin's ridges with his braided chin. He nodded in agreement.

"I'm his grandson," he confirmed, puffing his chest. No Klingon had ever recognized him for his soft hybrid ridges. It was a pleasant novelty. The old Klingon, however, frowned deeply with his white eyebrows.

"I've served in that House for long time. His former heir has no sons, and you're not my captain." said the old Klingon in a accusatory tone.

This time, was Khorin who frowned. If his uncle, Drax's firstborn, wasn't the heir of the House anymore... something bad had happened in the Homeworld. And that his own half-brother was in command of the House starships, fighting alongside the Chancellor was an even more worrying fact. He took a step towards the cell, approaching the gray-haired warrior untill his nose was almost touching the forcefield. "I'm Margon's younger son, Khorin."

"The half-caste?!?!" The old warrior barked with a disbelieving laughter. "Federation's doctors have give you a new pretty Klingon face, aren't they?" he mocked loudly.

Khorin's back stiffened, as blood accumulated in his temples, marking a bulging vein. "I was an hybrid. Now I'm not." he rumbled between clentched teeth, the tide that had recently dragged him lurking to take control another time.

"I'll make sure Gorka knows that fact," replied the old warrior with an ugly smirk in his wrinkled face. Without giving Khorin a chance to ask what he was up to, the old warrior turned his back on him, and lost himself in the crowded cell.

Alone in the middle of the corridor, Khorin looked for him for a long time before he joined the group again. He wasn't sure why, but that conversation would bring him trouble.

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #13 –
[Lt. Zephyr Praise | Mind to Mind | Saying Good bye | Must Part | Hope Springs Eternal]
@Numen @Auctor Lucan @Masorin



Zephyr Praise was in her element.  She was soothing the man that held her heart within his own chest and trying to keep him calm.  Murdering the man they shared the cell with was not going to go well with anyone.  Something could be done or said about the rage that he had been in earlier.  The abject fear and the pain from his injuries accumulating to make a Klingon that didn't know what exactly was going on.  However, now, she couldn't abide for him to sell himself further down the rabbit hole he didn't deserve that and she hoped that she could keep him calm.  He deserved calm and if there had been more room in the Brig she would have requested them to have some other place to be.  Another place to be held, as long as they were together, she could keep him on the steady and narrow.  Right now, they were just breathing, swaying, while her mental voice sang to him.  She hoped that it wasn't horrible, but she didn't care because she could feel him calming underneath her fingers and attention.

He was about to say something, there was the heaviness of his voice in her mind as he began to speak her name.  Something that she loved with his Klingon voice.  A smile crossed her lips as she listened for the rest of it, but she felt them before she heard them. The others, all business.  She pulled back as he did and she hated the loss of their connection.  It was still there but they had both torn their attention away from it so that they could look at the people that had come up to the force field.

They explained that there was some kind imbalance in the Klingon psyche with the correction or whatever and it was what had caused him to go beserk.  That it seemed there was another person that had the same issue, she was also Klingon and standing next to this officer.  Zeph looked over at Khorin and hoped that while it would not wipe away the stain of what he had done, it would lessen the guilt a little bit.  It was out of his control and not something that he could have done on purpose.  Her eyes shifted over to the Traitor and hoped that he had heard the explanation too because it wasn't that Khorin was at fault, but instead, that his race had some kind of imbalance and that it was just something that happened.  Though, she said nothing of all of her feelings on the matter, she hoped that he could understand he was just fine. 

She felt though, that he needed to hear her, just Khorin, though she supposed that Drauc could still hear her as well she wasn't going to change herself just because he could hear her without trying.  ~I knew you were not at fault.~ she confessed to Khorin as she gave him a little bit of a smile.   He was going to have to go with the robot and the others to get a shot and fix himself up so that it didn't happen again.  She was glad that she might be able to get her happy goofy Khorin back. 

She had missed him.

Her name was called and Zeph looked over at the woman who said she was free to go because of her crime and it being minor.  However, that it would go down in her files so that it would be noted.  Should anything come up again, that she would be remembered to have done this before.

“Thank you, that's fine, I understand.” she said with a bit of a soft smile playing over her features.  A uniform awaited her, and then, she would get her Quarters assignment as well.  She gave a nod.  “Thank you.  I'll look into that.”

As the force field was dropped and everyone except for Jak stepped out, she was glad for the freedom.  She was ready to get away from the jeers and looks of the Klingon on the other side of the corridor.  Khorin, it seemed, knew the female Klingon that was close by now and he slapped her on the back speaking to her.  Zeph felt a bit on the outside, and figured that he probably needed that normalcy.  Being away from her, having his friends, and the people that he knew.  He didn't have to mess with her right now, though she hoped that he wouldn't forget about her and that the feelings that had been developing over time between the two of them would still be there when he finally finished hanging out with his friends.  When he was done settling back in.

Suddenly, he was talking to some of the other Klingon from the other cell and Zeph wanted to stand in front of him and protect him from all their idiocy but she knew that he had to do this for himself.  She, felt, for the first time without purpose.  Biting her lower lip she turned away from him letting him do what he needed to.  He didn't need a mother, he didn't need her taking care of him, he needed to get on with his life and maybe, hopefully, he would find her.

Walking over to the duty station she was given a teal uniform, and the pips that befitted her rank.  She gave a slight smile to the man behind the desk. 

“You all right Lieutenant?  You look a little sad.” he said as he began to stand up.

Zeph gave a bit of a shrug.  “Yeah, just.. kind of never thought about what I was going to do once I got this far.  I got a huge Klingon over there that doesn't need me right now, and now I need to figure out what I'm going to do.”

“Got you listed as Science.. so Commander Martin would be a great start.” he said warmly, surprisingly so considering where he worked. 

“Yeah, I got that to do.  Is there a gym?”

“Oh yeah, definitely, you could definitely hit up the gym, lots of us do.” he said with a bit of a shrug as he began to thumb through his PADD.  “Okay, officers Quarters.” he said giving Zeph the number to the Quarters that she was being assigned. 

“Can you add.. Khorin Douglas to it, if he wants, please?”

He looked at her for a moment and then nodded not asking any questions about that whole situation before he gave another nod.  “Done, and hey, buck up, at least we aren't being boarded any more.  So we're already doing better.  You came from the Versant right?”

“Uh, yeah.” she gave a bit of a nod taking up the uniform from the desk and clutching it to her chest as he issued her a combadge and a PADD as well for her own usage. 

“I'm sorry to hear that.  My name is Emile.  Let me know if you need anything okay?  Oh wait.. are you the one that clocked Jameson?”

Zeph gave a bit of a grin.  “Is that the asshole's name?”

Emile gave a bark of laughter.  “Yeah, heard he's still running around sickbay looking for someone to patch his nose up.  I think he's afraid it'll be crooked.”

Zeph chuckled.  “It ought to be, I hit him good.” she gave a shrug.  “Thanks Emile, catch you around.” she said turning and heading out knowing that Khorin had things to do.

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #14 –
[ Y’Lev | The Brig | USS Theurgy ] @Masorin, @Auctor Lucan, @BZ, @Numen
 
It took every fibre of his being to continue his delightful little ruse… But even with everything, his years of training, his unparalleled patience, doing so was almost beyond his capacity to bare. With every blink, he imagined himself reaching over and ripping out the eyes of his interrogator, just so he could watch them roll around on the table for his own amusement… With each and every ‘logical’ statement, Y’Lev had to fight off the insatiable need to roll his eyes, or reply with a sarcastic barb that would leave the other haemorrhaging with ridicule… With every eyebrow movement, Y’Lev cursed that he didn’t have a neurotoxin dart secreted somewhere that he could ‘accidentally’ plunge into the gnarled hands tapping upon the pad before him…

Y’Lev would have opted for any other race in the quadrant. Some dopey Human he could mislead, a chatterbox Bolian he could distract, a belligerent Bajoran he could beguile… Even a Klingon or Andorian would have been delightful in comparison. He would have even taken a Ferangi over a straight-browed Vulcan. A sour faced Vulcan with his logic and his reason and his lack of comprehension of what it meant to gain any sense of satisfaction out of life… Why did it have to be a Vulcan...

He deployed every tactic in his arsenal, explored every avenue of his charisma and his guile. But no matter how many tears he forced out of his eyes, no matter how many words he deliberately tripped over, no matter how hard he begged to see his ‘Sister’... Nothing. The wretched, echlisiarchal, emotionless wilt…

When the frenzied goat had dragged him into Security, he had expected to have been unimpeachable in terms of his defence during his ‘interrogation’.. He admitted immediately that he was from the Bellerophon, that he had escaped from the guards in Sickbay and that he’d tried to break into the computer core… But it wasn’t difficult to guess that had already known that… Every action aboard the ship so far would no doubt have been collated and reviewed before his interrogation had began, so his admittance of his misdeeds cast no ill light upon him, but rather, demonstrated his deep sense of regret and absolute appreciation of honesty… The irony amused him.

He spun his story like a spider weaving a tapestry of silken strands. He shuddered and sobbed when he explained how he’d been so frightened when he’d been beamed aboard the ship following the destruction of the Bellerophon and how he’d been terrified when the others started to talk about the break out from the cargo bay, so much so that he’d gone to hide in the jefferied tubes. The Orion dwelled on key details, how it was his first assignment and how he’d never expected to see such a brutal space-battle during his first few days aboard. Y’Lev went on to explain how, whilst heading for the jefferies tubes, he found a console with access to the crew manifest, where he discovered that his ‘Sister’ was on board. Following that, he told, in explicit detail, how he crawled through the jefferies tubes, how he used a replicator to fake blood, and begrudgingly stole a phaser to stun the guards.

Y’Lev made a special note to tear up when he started trying to track his Sister’s location through the main computer, how he had been so very close to running a search to find her when he was accosted from behind and mauled by the woman’s horns, and how she would have slaughtered him if it hadn’t been for the security team showing up. He elaborated on his good behaviour in Sickbay, until the Borg announced their arrival and he ran, terrified and desperate to hide away somewhere, or find an escape pod and get of the ship that he was sure was doomed.

Tears rolled fresh upon his cheeks as he mentioned the Borg that encountered him in the corridor, and how he’d attempted to defend himself using debris he had found upon the floor. He mentioned how he had been petrified with fear when Cardamone arrived and saved him and he especially dwelled upon how she had decapitated the assimilated crewman whom he had tried his absolute best to help stave off the nanoprobe infection.

He was visceral in his description of how she had grabbed his hair and threatened to kill him, how she’d forced him to risk his life fighting Borg drones without any proper weapons or advanced combat training. He repeated her ‘exact’ words about how she insinuated orally raping him if he didn’t charge in to fight the Borg before her, the way she told him that she would enjoy watching him get assimilated, only to kill him after. He let his voice break and tremble when he described how when they’d finally seemingly survived the ordeal, she’d wasted no time at all in grabbing him by the hair and dragging him back to Security without so much as a breath…

His perspective on events was harrowing, and his delivery, sublime. He’d stressed that his Orion physiology required that he needed to get medical attention, that he needed a course of UV light to revitalise the chlorophyll in his cells, and that he just couldn’t remember when he’d last taken a pheremonal suppressant, and that he needed a Doctor to confirm when he needed his next dosage… But of course, the wilt of a Vulcan sat opposite him had no commentary on his documentation of his unjust treatment other than the frequent use of the words ‘I see…’. Y’Lev was ready to spin out his dancerdaggers from their hiding spot and give the Vulcan a delightful little eyebrow extension…

“Your cooperation is appreciated…” The Vulcan yellow-chest announced in a lofty yet unbearably dull tone of voice when Y’Lev made it clear that he had finished his description of the events that had unfolded since he had arrived aboard, before placing his pad down on the table so slowly that Y’Lev wanted to actually sob with frustration. “I would now request that you hand over your combadge and personal effects. I will then escort you to the Brig whilst we review the information you have provided.”

Y’Lev, felt his teeth almost clamp together in fury of their own accord, his willpower catching them just in the nick of time… The resulting effect was his mouth slowly opening and closing like a fish out of water, but he knew it worked well enough for the effect he was trying to pull. He considered himself lucky that he was still so composed, given that his immediate response to a comment of such utter dismissal would have been a dagger to the eye. He had solidly reinforced every aspect of his case to thoroughly enforce himself as the victim. But as the Vulcan moved up to begin ‘escorting’ him, Y’Lev realised that he was caught in a rather sticky spot… His odd-eyes darted around and searched for any decent chance to escape, but his results were not anything promising… There were multiple guards, each of them had a phaser strapped to their waist, and even if he did fight his way out, using the Vulcan as a meatshield to absorb phaser fire whilst he used a dancerdagger in his kidney like a stirrup, he’d no doubt find himself with the ship’s resident rabid goat being set after him.

“I-i can't believe it…” Y’Lev gasped. “You’re doing this because I’m Orion, aren’t you?” He decided to play the species card, glaring at the Vulcan with a nova of fury leaking from his leer. “Because I have green skin you want to lock me up like some sort of criminal, whilst you let savages who make sexual threats and gauge people with their horns run rampart on your ship?” He elected to raise his voice at that stage, taking the attention of some of the other yellow-chests dotted about the room. The Vulcan might be comfortable being called a xenophobic wilt, but some of his soppier colleagues mightant.

“Your anger, is not productive.” The Vulcan returned like a slippery little lizard. “We must conduct an investigation until we can confirm that you are not a threat.”

“A t-threat?” Y’Lev knew that the Vulcan would never back down at that stage; his wide-set eyes were glazed over in a logical frenzy that would never be suppressed. “What e-exactly is it that y-you find threatening about me?” He threw in a calculated whimper, a deliberate attempt to make himself that little bit more pathetic in the eyes of the rest of the yellow-chests, his eyes brimming with fresh tears, all but forcing them to break their own little hearts over his battle against the horrors of xenophobia.

The Vulcan, obviously and depressingly, took the logical approach, standing before him and plucking the combadge off of the Orion’s chest, before gesturing his hand out, palm facing up, for the rings around Y’Lev’s fingers. He strongly considered delivering the usual litany of gunk about them being important family heirlooms, or having significant cultural value, but at that stage, he didn’t see the point. The Vulcan wasn’t going to relent even if they had been surgically melded to his fingers.

He glimpsed a chance to perform a scowl, more demonstrative of his true colours, as he pulled off the rings containing his dancerdagger from each of his hands, deliberately setting them on the table he was sat at rather than in the clammy hand of the Vulcan.

“P-please don’t l-lose them. They’re truly precious to me.” He whimpered lightly as the Vulcan fetched them off of the table with an intolerable ‘blank’ expression plastered over his rancidly pointy little face. Then he found himself grasped by the sour faced welt, his subspace-thin lips pursed disturbingly, as he began to escort the Orion towards the brig.

Y’Lev hated Vulcans. He hated that Vulcan.

He’d sooner have poisoned the grim faced toad, but since no poison was readily available, he’d have to settle for a more ‘Starfleet’ method of destroying his enemy. Getting him written up for intolerance and xenophobia.

“Why?” Y’Lev snapped at him as he opened the door leading to the brig, stepping inside and ensuring to make a delightful show for all of the officers on duty and prisoners locked away. “Why do you people only see the colour of my skin when you look at me? I did the same training as you! I spent three years at the Academy and I had to fight for my place every step of the way! There was always some ignorant xenophobe in charge who saw my green skin and used that as an excuse to single me out, to accuse me of whatever unsolved misdeed they wanted to pin onto someone who didn’t have anyone looking out for him!”

The Vulcan was undeterred, but everyone else seemed to notice…

“And I got through all of it, I earned my place, and on my first assignment, I almost died because you destroyed our ship, and killed hundreds of innocent officers. But that wasn’t enough for you? Almost every single person you beamed aboard, out of some misguided excuse for mercy, escaped, but of course, the only one you throw in the Brig is the green skin. The green skin who gets stabbed, gauged and sexually threatened by one of your crewmen, who gets to run free. Your Crewman who decapitated one of her assimilated colleagues with no hesitation, and promised to give me to the Borg if I didn’t do exactly what she said…”

He found himself shoved past several people as the Vulcan lowered a force field surrounding a cage, which he was promptly ‘encouraged’ inside of. 

“You people make me ashamed be be Starfleet.” Y’Lev turned and sneered at the Vulcan, but made sure to let his jaw tremble as he did so, a tear slipping down his cheek. His performance was stellar, which was the only thing that gave him any comfort as the energetic thwump of the forcefield reached his ears. He glanced to his side and looked at his cellmate, a ruined looking man missing not just an eye, but an arm as well… Y’Lev cursed under his breath.

“Of course..." He slowly shut his eyes. "Of course that is what I have to share a cell with..."
Currently:
Ensign Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth - Chief CONN Officer - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]
Formerly:
Otheusz - Grey Scars Pirate - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]
Y'Lev - Syndicate Dominus - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #15 –
Hi'Jak | Holding Cell | USS Theurgy | rethinking life choices] attn: @Auctor Lucan @TWilkins
[Show/Hide]

The clothing was dumped on the floor like an insult, and Jack regarded it with an eye, everyone else, the murderer the other traitor, they were all allowed to go free, but jack had played his last card when he had handed over his pass-code, he had nothing more he could offer or bargin with. He watched each of them go, he regarded their words, and felt a sense of pain. He moved too the bed.

At this point he had nothing more but to wait and die, he had not wanted to fight with the other like he had, though he realized he was far more combattative, the sap, the loss of Lahkesis, this day had taken more of a toll on him emotionally than he had realized. The other Klingon got to walk away with his mate, secure and safe re-intigrated in the crew.

Jack wasn't one of them anymore. He wasn't a klingon, he wasn't a warrior, he was barely a scientist, and he wasn't an officer.

He had thrown all of those things away in his moment, a moment where he had believed he had done the right thing to try and prevent a war, from the sounds of it though he would likely be one of the causes of it. The thought of being handed over at Aldea was about as unpleasant as it came, his execution would be long awaited, probably even a spectical due to the nature of his crimes.

No one exactly liked Klingon intellegence, and he had few if any friends left. He could count them on one hand, and the few he could try and contact on this ship would not spare him much more thought.

He was going to die.

Was he okay with that?

It didn't matter what he would have wanted at this point he was long past the point where he could change his fate.

He sat in silence and contemplation, all for a few minutes, when another figure was pushed into his jail cell. Jack's one good eye looked up towards the new comer. His last approach had not exactly got him the conversation or insight he had wanted, so perhaps this time it would be better to just not talk.

Then the other man spoke, and used precious air to insult Jack further.

Jack merely rolled his eye, he didn't care what the Orion thought.  A fellow prisoner, and orion male the man's opinion of Jack would do him nothing in the long run.

"They take the whole uniform thing very seriously here." Jack said shaking his head as the man said that they made him ashamed to be Starfleet, he found it kinda pathetic along with the crying. Jack was missing his limbs and he had never once cried over it. "why don't you tell them that they will live to regret this while you're at it?"

"or you could try being quiet and waiting."

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #16 –
[ Y’Lev | Brig | Deck 7 | USS Theurgy ] @Masorin

Don’t scoff… Y’Lev forcefully told himself, fighting against his instinct to turn and glare at his new cellmate, whilst listing a great string of profanities, including multiple, colourful, suggestions regarding potential places his remaining arm could go… His mental creations were almost too good not to share with the man… But, Y’Lev had to admit, for his cellmate to be already getting so agitated over his ruse, indicated fairly solidly that the role of bumbling, cowardly, Cadet Galo Zeshryr, was a successful one.

It was important for him to understand that in the long run, whilst a scoff would be satisfying now, knowing that he’d fooled everyone would be such the sweeter prize for later…

“You’re a human.” Y’Lev began, his voice shaking and trembling as if his character had had the adrenaline blasted out of his system. “You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to be treated as the criminal at every turn…” He continued, walking away from the force field blocking off the entrance to the cell, retreating into a corner the furthest away from the armless man. “Or perhaps I should rephrase.” Y’Lev hunkered down in the corner, his knees tight to his chest and his arms cocooned away inside the protective ball he’d formed. “You wouldn't understand what it’s like to be treated as a criminal, when you’ve done nothing wrong.”

The Orion let his eyes deliver a downcast droop to the floor, lids leaning down and allowing him to feel a little more restful. He was starting to feel exhaustion creep up on him. His physiology needed some UV light for starters; all of the half-power rooms and corridors that the goat had dragged him through had done nothing beneficial for his chlorophyll. The lack of energy from his chlorophyll was only supplementing the knowledge that he was probably well overdue a sleep, especially considering all of the high-energy activities he’d been party to since he’d arrived aboard the ship just a few hours prior. But not yet… He wasn’t going to let himself be caught off guard by the thuggish one-arm one-eye troglodyte a few metres away just because he felt a little sleepy… 

Instead, he took one of his hands and slid it underneath his shirt, traveling to his armpit and rubbing firmly against the moist flesh he’d discovered there. He withdrew his arm and brought his hand up to his nose, curiously sniffing at the sweat that still glistened upon his fingers. Sweet. It didn’t make his head numb over for a second, which was a good sign… But given when he’d last taken his pheromonal suppressant, he wasn’t confident that he had more than a half-hour or so before his pheromones started to creep out into his sweat.

Between that knowledge, his desire for some UV treatment, and needing a good hour or so to sleep and recover, Y’Lev really hoped that his Vulcan slave-master wouldn’t be too long in deliberating over his story. Y’Lev had informed the wilt several times about his needs to report to a Doctor, so if the man had any sense, it wouldn’t be too long before those requests were granted. But also, leaking pheremones all over the Brig would prove for an interesting scene, and probably get him extradited to a Doctor anyway, where he could have all of his needs tended to… Either way, it didn’t work out too badly for him.

That however, wasn’t to say that he didn’t want to get out…

“How long do you think they’re going to keep me in here?” 
Currently:
Ensign Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth - Chief CONN Officer - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]
Formerly:
Otheusz - Grey Scars Pirate - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]
Y'Lev - Syndicate Dominus - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #17 –
Hi'Jak | Holding Cell | USS Theurgy | rethinking life choices] attn: @Auctor Lucan @TWilkins
[Show/Hide]

When Y'Lev said that a human wouldn't know what it was like to feel like they had been accused of nothing Jack actually laughed. He couldn't help it, That statement had like three different ironies worked into it that Jack couldn't help find funny even in his rather broken situation. He shook his head, long semi blond hair falling across his face for a moment, as he did he sighed and leaned back laying down on the bed he had claimed as the other one crawled pathetically into his corner.

"Now I know you're full of shit." Jack said with a soft humorous hum to his voice a soft sigh escaping him. "lets set some ground work for a moment." He said still bemused by that simple statement that he wouldn't know how it felt to be so persecuted.

He raised the stub of his arm. "Last week I had two arms, two eyes, and I was also half Klingon, and only someone who has never been around human's would think that they wouldn't accuse anyone and everyone with any remote difference from them of being some kind of criminal. Let's not forget that the original charter of the Federation expressed a preservation of 'human rights' the very words of which were xenophobic."

"Then you have the vulcan's whom treat everyone else like less educated forms of garbage. To them everyone else is just a lizard brained sub century living hellspawn out for instant gratification of the flesh. Andorian's? You need only look to our fine deputy of security to find the perfection of their stereo types. Militant egotists whom only support the path of action, the Federation the whole of it is just some loose configuration of judgemental politics all trying to act superior and accuse everyone else of being worse criminals than them. anyone whom thinks that humans are immune to xenophobia on a Federation starship has never served on one." Jack was blowing off some steam, finding it easy to confine his own thoughts on this matter. In someway it was true, Simon his former boss in science on 84 had been a drunkard and a racist whom had stolen the majority of jack's work. His captain at the time had apparently been some sort of intestinal bug whom had decided to set up shop on the starbase. Jack had never served in a good Federation space...

Till the theurgy, and he had cocked that up royally.

He let out a slow sigh. "As for how long you're gonna be in here, that depends on your story. What your accused of. The last group had a murderer and they were only in here for like two hours maybe three I don't know there is actually no clock in here surprisingly."

"Knowing how it works, well they are probably running some form of background check on you. If your from a ship that wasn't able to transfer it's data than they probably trying to find someone who can vouch for you from your old ship. If there was someone you could reach out too... oh wait you can't, communication systems are suppressed in the brig, we can't even buzz security officers."


"As for being innocent, I don't trust anyone who claims to be innocent while in lock up."

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #18 –
[ Y’Lev | Brig | Deck 7 | USS Theurgy ] @Masorin

‘Full of shit’. An interesting choice of phrase that Y’Lev was almost certain didn’t translate its intention correctly into his native tongue… The man seemed amused by Y’Lev’s comments, in a mocking way, but that served the purpose of his alias well. Of course, the Orion would have been happier without having to watch the man waggling the stub of his arm about so, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. If he held himself correctly, he might just manage to turn the situation to his favour.

Evidently, the man had a lot to say for himself. He challenged Y’Lev’s alibi, perhaps inadvertently, but the Orion made a note to address his comment following the conclusion of his rant. However, he made it very clear that he found humans to be just as xenophobic as Crewman Galo did, possibly even more so. Y’Lev had to try hard to resist a smirk that wished to blossom upon his green lips at that comment, the taste of witnessing allies break into discord ever so sweet upon his tongue. Perhaps he and the stump-waver would get on fine after all…

But it evidently wasn’t just Humans who had earned the ire of the one-eye. His comments about the patronising mentality of Vulcans was perfectly demonstrative of their typical stance, and his criticism of the trademark belligerence of Andorians also happened to fit very comfortably with Y’Lev’s own opinions of the race. Perhaps at a different time, this husk of a man might have enjoyed to learn about how the Orion Syndicate dealt with Andorian slaves upon their markets, children torn away from their parents in order to quash that typical blue brutishness by raising them to know only a life of subservience… Perhaps not. But it would be a true test of how ‘Starfleet’ this apparent hater proved to be.
 
His further criticism of the Federation was so deliciously virulent that it could have even aroused the Orion… Had it not been for the fact the criticisms came from the lips of a man who would currently fetch a lower price than a Tellarite courtesan at auction…

Then, finally, he provided a few morsels of useful information. The group he’d passed on the way in were murderers apparently… And that they were most likely now running his background check…

The latter didn’t bode especially well. He’d mentioned the name Galo Zeshryr as his alias, and he’d mentioned his sister enough times that he was sure that they would have followed right up on that particular lead… He hoped she’d been assimilated so as to not point out that they were not, in fact, related. If she couldn’t vouch against him, it quashed any chance of them finding a hole in his alibi. As far as his background check went, he wouldn’t have anything much. There were base records sent from a Syndicate officer working for Starfleet who’d sent a full record to the Bellerophon along with his transfer orders… Hopefully that was enough…

The Syndicate weren’t slopping with those tasks, and Y’Lev was fairly confident that the data would hold up fairly well under scrutiny. The forgery was exquisite.

His other concern was getting someone from the crew of the Bellerophon to vouch for him, which he imagined would not be likely… He’d made his best efforts to remain as inconspicuous as a green-skin could… Perhaps there was someone who could confirm that there had been an Orion on board? Maybe that would be sufficient? He wasn’t overly keen on so many uncertainties, but he had no control now.

He could only hope that so few of the crew had survived this far, that it made statistical sense for him not to have been on familiar terms with anyone...

For the moment, he put any thoughts of concern aside, and decided to best make the use out of his brig time by trying to use stumpy to get some information.

“You think I'm guilty? Well, you could be right. Is being in the wrong place at the wrong time a crime? If so, then I’m as guilty as they come and I definitely deserve to be here…” Y’Lev returned with a downtrodden huff. “I know it sounds ridiculous, and yeah, I did some things, but everyone on the Bellerophon did..." Then, the Orion went on to pitch his story.

"I was walking past the hydroponics lab on the Bellerophon when a hull breach blew out half of the deck and I was about half a second from being spaced…” That was one part that he didn’t even have to lie about. “Next thing I knew, I was on the floor of your cargo bay, with a disruptor to my head.”

Damnation… Federations didn’t call their weapons disruptors…

“Mightn’t have been a disruptor…” He clarified, trying to dig himself out of the pitfall he’d tumbled into. “It didn’t look Starfleet issue though.” He hoped that stumpy might’ve possessed the intuition to assume that it might have been one of the blue/green beam weapons that the goat had brandished against the Borg. “I’m not exactly a weapons expert; only cleared on level two hand weapons…” He’d heard that phrase before… He hoped it fit his context.

“Then there was a break out, which I wasn’t involved with…” Y’Lev went on to explain to his cellmate, conscious that if their conversation was being recorded, he needed to be much better at getting details right. Hopefully the slip up looked as though he was simply a bumbling first time officer, rather than someone who didn’t quite remember which races called their weapons what. He spoke English flawlessly, but it wasn’t his native tongue…

“I went to hide out in the jefferies tubes, and on the way I found a console with a display of the crew manifest…” He continued, very careful that from that point on, he did not make any further blunders, to align it with his story he’d told the Vulcan. “And I found my Sister’s name…” He paused, deliberately trying to compose himself, hoping that his companion would fall for the bait. “I went trying to look for her, and yeah, I had to do some things I’m not entirely happy about…” That was the truth too… He’d have prefered to have poisoned them rather than stunned them, Federation stunning was such a bland source of amusement. “But before I did anything productive, I encountered your crew’s trained goat. Or perhaps not trained?” Y’Lev gestured to the two holes in his uniform.

“She gauged me.” He then pulled at the material of the outer jacket that she’d cut with her blade. “Then she cut me.” He then paused, his eyes falling back to the floor. “Then the Borg got involved, who I helped fight off. The someone told me about parasites infesting the galaxy, which made, no sense. But worst of all, I had no chance to look for my Sister before she dragged me by the hair to this pit.” He brought the side of his hand up to his face to rub at his eye. “And of course, I get locked up, not the rampaging, gauging, sexual predator that you have loose on this accursed vessel.”

Y’Lev sighed, in character still, before raising his eyes up to look weakly across the cell. Though his weak look was juxtaposed by the iron solid will burning in his mind.

"So you can imagine that now they’ve dragged me down here, I’m feeling the slightest bit rattled.” And he dropped the bait. “I mean, what in damnnation do parasites have to do with anything?" And he couldn’t resist one final dig. “Aside from the fact that I’m almost certain that the Cardamone woman has them.”
Currently:
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Formerly:
Otheusz - Grey Scars Pirate - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]
Y'Lev - Syndicate Dominus - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #19 –
Hi'Jak | Holding Cell | USS Theurgy | rethinking life choices] attn: @Auctor Lucan @TWilkins
[Show/Hide]

If Jack had learned anything over the years it was to sit and listen, try and talk less than others, and allow them to incriminate themselves. He had survived on 84 for several years before he had come to the theurgy and been uncovered in two days. Now he was paying for his mistakes, and with one less eye to work with no less, still with the loss of vision came perspective, afterthought, humility and a touch of wisdom.

Jack no longer loved the sound of his own voice. In truth he was kinda bitter towards it. His voice was one of the many reasons he was currently in this cell, that and a set of morals that he shouldn't have had.

Still he listened to this man, and what hit him, was the massive incongruity. Phaser's and disruptors were very different weapons, and anyone with type 2 phaser clearance would have known those differences instinctually. Jack was cleared for the use of type 3 phasers, he remembered the number of safety drills that went into just carrying the things. Jack wasn't even a good shot, but he had taken the clearance in the academy, so that he could work on away missions.

He had also handled disruptors his days on Qo'NoS, the Academy of the first imperial city where he had been trained as an infiltrator had taught him plenty in the use of the weapons.

This guy, whom ever he was, was a little out of his depths. He was playing the fool, but there was things in this world even a fool would know. It didn't take a good infiltrator to recognize a bad one, jack gave a small chuckle.

On the grounds of the parasite threat Jack nodded. "Sorry I hate to break this news to you, but the deputy of security tests everyone for the Parasite." His arm went over to point across the way, down to where the isolation cell was, the heavy gravity where one such creature was suspended. "They even have one in captivity right now, I didn't even know it at the time but my former captain was actually one of these things. They are beyond sadistic, they are the closest thing to evil with a capital E that could actually exist in this world, and if your smart you'll heed that warning."

"I told you I was half klingon a week ago, those parasitic creatures, they had technology capable of making this change, wounding some one so critically that they could rewrite the very genitic core of a person. They are horrific, and if your smart you trust no one outside of these walls."

He sighed closing his eye for a moment, the theurgy may actually be the last safe place in the galaxy. If and when he went to the empire he fully expected to find some of those creatures among Klingon Intellegence, which meant he couldn't reliably trust any contact he had.

Hell he hadn't even been able to trust Ives, but that was more due to the enumerable miscommunications that took place along the way.

"You know, it's called a phaser right?" Jack's eye opened and he turned the blue towards the other man, looking at his collar with a slight suspicion for a moment. "You're crew, which means you did basic, funny, to get a type 2 licence you would have had to spend almost half of basic at a firing range, they didn't even let me handle the thing in a simulation before i could take it apart and reassemble it, and I'm a scientist."

"Disruptor on the other hand, those are dime a dozen, the empire uses them, the dominion, You're not a changeling are you? oh and of course... the syndicate uses them as well, mostly because of the proximity to empire space, their plentiful easy to sell and get your hand on." Jack gave a chuckle as if dismissing the entire line of thinking. "But hey you got nothing to worry about here."

"After all, half of the ships commanding officers worked for Starfleet Intellegence. Try to get your hands on Ive's personel file for instance and the word redacted shows up... well honestly I kinda lost count. The public version is a pretty boring read. So your perfectly fine after all you told me you're innocent."

He held up two fingers. "I was on this ship for two days before they caught me, but then I did apply to have a 12' fighting knife returned to me about an hour after accidentally threatening my superior officer.... so I can't say I exactly rode under the radar."

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #20 –
[ Y’Lev | Brig | Deck 7 | USS Theurgy ] @Masorin

Parasite… It had come up organically with Cardamone, whilst Stumpy had required only the slightest dash of encouragement to open up. Evidently the crew enjoyed talking about it... Both of them had wielded slightly different explanations of the apparent threat, but they corroborated, somewhat. The differences could be chalked down to experiences and the goat's particularly dramatic personality... Though there were still plenty enough gaps in his knowledge thus far to require a good amount more questioning. Hopefully the next person he gained the chance to ask, would be of a more reliable source than a rampant goat or one-armed prisoner…

Yet, the way the man spoke about how sadistic, how evil these supposed Parasites were… Y’Lev felt as though, perhaps, he could be telling the truth. His feelings seemed to be at least. The Orion wasn’t so easy to sway however, and he definitely needed further information, multiple sources and perspectives, a more catalogued structure of the knowledge he had so far, before he could even consider taking it back to Syndicate intelligence… Or whether he deliberately did not.

He truly was at an impasse.

Should he find that the Parasite threat was some elaborate cover story, ship-wide indoctrination, or simply a veil over their true purpose, he would return to the Syndicate with knowledge of what was not, rather than knowledge of what was. Should he find that there be enough evidence to support the threat, returning to the Syndicate would unleash one of two unpleasant fates. He’d either forfeit his career, and life. Or he’d set the fuse that tore the Syndicate apart from within.

The organisation already had no concept of the amusing Federation value of ‘trust’. If they were to be shown that their rivals, colleagues, confidantes, could all have the potential to be some sort of Parasitic leech… They would rip each other apart with no hesitation whatsoever…

Yet, even if Y’Lev did choose to conceal such information from them, going into hiding or, perish the thought, stay aboard the USS Theurgy… Sooner or later, they’d mark him as rogue.

He had a very difficult decision to make.

And then, the cretin across from him opened his eye and spouted the typical belligerent accusation he’d come to expect from the Theurgy crew.

Phaser! Discord to the Federations and their self-righteous necessity to name their weapon something different to every other faction in power. Phaser. The utter pretentious wilts. Apparently, type-two weapons had also been the wrong choice of words… Though… Y’Lev wracked his mind back to the Bellerophon when he’d heard it. Two of the officers had walked past him in the corridor, muttering something about how the majority of the crew were trained on level-two hand weapons, in case the renegades sent borders. Perhaps the former-half-Klingon was testing him… Perhaps…

Y’Lev was more than happy to spout assumed knowledge and hope for the best.

And then, stumpy finally said something that Y’Lev appreciated hearing.

Apparently a significant compliment of the officers aboard, once worked for Starfleet Intelligence. A barely passable organisation compared to the Syndicate, but enough to cause a little worry, considering they were swarming the ship he was infiltrating like wasps over fruit. Apparently the Captain’s file also wasn’t worth an attempt at hacking, which had been his original plan... Though he no longer had reason to do so, considering he’d found a vein of silver with the Parasite questioning… He'd continue to pursue that until to proved dead or deadly...

And then Stumpy made one final jab, mocking his innocence and insinuating that he’d get caught straight away.

The damnable wilt.

“You don’t have to lecture me on weapons.” He carefully told the man, walking the tightrope of snapping whilst still appearing vulnerable. “You don’t have to try and test me on them either.” He added, throwing a watery scowl that was sickeningly weak compared to his usual one, but it would have to suffice. “Everyone goes through basic training to handle type-two phasers.” Were they the phallic ones, that looked like penises mid-arousal? “You have to do it to be an Officer.”

“Now, perhaps you could stop mocking me, just because you’re bitter over being locked up, and tone down the assumption that because I’m Orion, I have to be a member of the Syndicate.” He scowled further, slumping himself dramatically against the wall. “It gets really boring. Anyone who knows anything, knows that Syndicate officers are female; they have stronger pheromones.” Y’Lev began to lie, spinning a thread of misdirection to wrap the man in as easily as anyone else would tell the truth. Thankfully, the more common knowledge that Orion men were slaves to their women, a quater-truth from centuries past, would apparently work in his favour. 

“Look. I have one concern right now, and that is my Sister. She’s not a spy and she can vouch for me that I’m not either.” Y’Lev decided that it was the time to try his luck and hope that she’d died at some point during the battle, knowing that it was only a matter of time before that news arose organically when the Vulcan finished his investigation. He needed to use that time as well as he could and a sob story ought to placate his cellmate for a time.

“I was in my first year at the Academy when the Resolve went missing.” He sniffled, doing a stellar job at recalling the information he'd read from the crew manifest he'd hacked earlier. “I think I wrote home every day to see if our parents had heard anything.” He steeled himself, glancing over at the cretin of a man. “And then, somehow, I end up on this ship, because my ship got blown in half. And out of everybody who they could have saved, I was one of the few crewmen who got beamed aboard, rather than left to drift.”

“And somehow, I happen to stumble across a roster of the crew manifest, and see my Sister’s name. A ship that neither of us should have been on, yet here we both are…” Y’Lev mentally prepared himself to say something so absolutely revolting that it could have been considered a bioweapon in itself. “You can’t tell me that that isn’t fate. Destiny. We were both meant to find each other again here, we have to be.” It was truly disgusting, his masochistic side adored it. Humans and their poxy concept of fate.

“And instead of anyone helping me find her, I get thrown into the Brig.” He sniffed once again, cuffing some moisture that had built from tears lingering at the end of his nose. “Do you know her? Her name is A’vura Zeshryr?” He deployed a tone of such innocent hopefulness that it made his stomach turn.

“Please… I just want to know if she’s alive.”

And that comment, was the first true thing he’d said.
Currently:
Ensign Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth - Chief CONN Officer - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]
Formerly:
Otheusz - Grey Scars Pirate - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]
Y'Lev - Syndicate Dominus - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #21 –
Hi'Jak | Holding Cell | USS Theurgy | rethinking life choices] attn: @Auctor Lucan @TWilkins
[Show/Hide]

"Who said anything about you being a member of the syndicate? I only said that they use disruptions very common weapon really." Jack gave a slight smile as he looked at Y'Lev it seemed the two of them were in some sort of bout of mind games when it came down to it. Jack was by no means a good spy, in fact the more he thought about it the more he was certain it was not a proffession he could maintain. While he was trained in counter intellegence methods he had never once really needed to be that resorceful. He had never even directly killed anyone.

The people he had wounded on starbase 84, had probably died, but he had always tried to leave them alive, tried to make it so that someone else could come by and treat them. His former boss in science he had claimed that kill sure, but it hadn't been him that had struck the blow. That had been Sera. Now he was broken, down an arm and an eye, and doubted that he could do much of anything. His eyes kept tracing out his cell, how long was he supposed to be here? till they reached Aldea, and then what would happen to him?

He sighed, laid back down. Y'Lev was worried about his own cover story, and apparently some member of family. Avura, that name stuck out. It took him back to a time last week that felt like it had been from four or five life times ago, Avura.

Such a minor note, he had never even directly met her. He had only seen the aftermath, of the romulan whom had tried to rape her. The bomb that had been set off, the recording he had uncovered, the first time he had actually used his training and done any kind of detective work.

And it had led him to handing over his findings to the very man whom had been at fault. He had met Avura after that, fine green hips, beautiful full body, he had seen her, but never gotten a word in towards her, never met her officially, he knew exactly as much about her as a man in a museum who had once seen a work of art. He knew she was pretty, and that was it. "I met her once, we came aboard at the same time, were included in the same briefing." He said giving a shrug.

"If she's still alive than someone in security will probably contact you, but this ship has a way of chewing through people. I wouldn't raise your hopes up, but then i also haven't been on this ship for more than a week." His comment about Jack being bitter about being locked up was true mind you.

Hi'Jak was more than a touch bitter. They had just let a murderer go, and yet he was going to die. Y'Lev would likely get to go free, despite probably being an agent for a different government as well. "Regardless, be you innocent or otherwise, the day will come when this ships crew will give you a test of loyalty of sorts, if you don't want to end up back here, you will go about your orders."

He looked at the cieling for a moment. Go about your orders. It sounded so simple, but when the pressure is on and you feel the weight of one choice as it could affect millions of people, how are you supposed to follow that order? He closed his eye. "Anyway, fuck off i'm trying to sleep." He said keeping his eye closed this time, it wasn't exactly the truth, he just wasn't sure what more he had to talk about with this other.

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #22 –
[ Y’Lev | Brig | Deck 7 | USS Theurgy ] @Masorin

The Orion could feel the one-eyed husk’s intent, he could feel the gaze of the man’s remaining eye probing him. It was as though the man was attempting to lead him with his questioning, intending to steer Y’Lev into into revealing something that would compromise his alias… Scanning him so intently with his twisted little glare, as if to pinpoint even the slightest slip-up the Orion would make.

Or maybe, he wasn’t.

For all Y’Lev knew, the man opposite him was just as he appeared; a grumpy cynic locked inside a cell. An equally plausible answer was that it was just the Orion’s heightened paranoia that was confusing him, leading him to see enemies that didn’t exist.

Either way, Y’Lev found it infuriating.


He wasn’t used to facing such undisputable suspicion. Of course, he was an Orion, and his green skin came with a certain social stigma that afforded him hostility in a lot of places… But usually his assignments took him to people far less concerned about security, and far easier to placate with the right cluster of words, or the right infusion of chemicals… He was used to flirting, lying, buttering up his quarry with silken compliments that were as hollow as his heart… Once he had what he needed, he left.

It was simple, efficient, and rarely involved weapons beyond his natural charisma and his chemical concoctions…

On occasion of course, necessity required him to get his hands dirty. And it wouldn’t be untruthful to say that didn’t enjoy slipping one of his dancerdaggers into a particular soft part of the body, where they would cause the most harm. He couldn’t say that it didn’t amuse him to see someone scream and flail when he blew a handful of blinding powder into their eyes. But despite his entertainment, Y’Lev didn’t strive to kill; it was far less messy, politically, to debilitate and disable, following up with a memory suppressant to ensure that nobody remembered him when they woke up the next day.

But being trapped in a brig, being interrogated and confined, waiting on someone else to verify his stories… It was so different. It was raw; mind games. At least Cardamone had been blunt, predictable and obvious with her accusations, and, judging from her personality, not the most reliable source of information. This half-man was different, he was deliberate in what he said, and how he said it…

Y’Lev had reason to be especially wary. The man had already made a close approach to catching him out once, and was already teasing with the idea a second time, talking about not having mentioned the Syndicate, when he had done exactly that. Trying to confuse him…

Luckily, in the process, the man had fed Y’Lev enough information about A’vura to allow the Orion to pursue a route of progression. As the man continued to speak, Y’Lev had to fight the urge to exhale in sheer relief when he was told that his supposed Sister was most likely already dead. It wasn’t a confirmation by any stretch, but apparently the ship had a way of ‘chewing through’ its occupants. He gravely hoped that she was indeed dead, or unconscious at least… That would buy him a little more time to scrounge some additional information before disappearing.

Or killing her. Not as clean as a graceful escape, but certainly less messy than the alternative of doing nothing…

“I don’t care if you’re trying to sleep!” Y’Lev choose a tone close to a bark, snapping at the man who’d teased information about his supposed Sister. “You can’t just tell me that you met her and then not tell me anything about how she is!” It wasn’t a lie, the Orion needed more information. “You must know something about her? P-please…” He slipped seamlessly from anger to desperation, begging, sickening himself, but conscious that he needed to establish a clear template for his groveling character. “She can’t be dead… S-she just…” He sniffled, scrunching his head down against his knees, cowering against the wall like a distraught slave who’d just been found out they were being sold.

The man was interesting, Y’Lev couldn’t tell if he cared or not. Whether the plight of Crewman Galo’s search for his Sister had moved him, or whether he was simply wrapped up whatever crime he had committed, bothered by poxy thoughts of guilt and shame… Or perhaps he was even doing something not so dissimilar to his Orion cellmate, biding his time and working on establishing a facade that would get him out of whatever ill circumstances he had found himself in…

Y’Lev thought about what else the man had said, about having his loyalty tested, whether he was innocent or not… Perhaps that was what the man had done; failed his test of loyalty, and was now suffering the miserable consequences of rotting in the Brig… Y’Lev briefly wondered what he would do in such circumstances, as he remained hunched, willing a few more tears to fall from his eyes.

“Is that what happened to you?” Y’Lev quietly asked, his tone drawing out the hopelessness 'Crewman Galo' felt about not knowing the status of his Sister, whilst Y'Lev swept in to try and get a little information about the man that he could at least have the potential to use later. “Did you fail your test of loyalties?”

The Orion was quiet, glancing up at the other man with an inquisitive look in his tear-strung odd-eyes. The inquisitiveness was one of the few parts of his performance so far that had been honest. He wanted to know what this man was suffering.

Of course, Y’Lev’s concern was out of no value of empathy. Rather, an interest in obtaining a few valuable jewels of information that he save in the back of his mind, with the full intention to later exploit.
Currently:
Ensign Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth - Chief CONN Officer - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]
Formerly:
Otheusz - Grey Scars Pirate - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]
Y'Lev - Syndicate Dominus - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #23 –
Hi'Jak | Holding Cell | USS Theurgy | rethinking life choices] attn: @Auctor Lucan @TWilkins
[Show/Hide]

Jack's eye opened the man in his cell was protesting again like an idiot. Y'lev was once again asking him if he knew anything about the other Orion girl, the sister. Jack just shrugged. He had already given the man all the information he had on the subject. Jack had seen her only in passing. "You know there is no point in telling someone the truth in a situation if they refuse to believe you. I told you I only saw her in passing. She was from the Resolve I'm from starbase 84."

That thought gave him a bit of pause. He supposed he was the only crewman who could make that claim now. Six was apparently dead, the news of the only borg drone being dead hadn't been too hard to pick out among the few conversations he had picked up in passing.

Which meant that he had no lasting contacts aboard this ship. No one here remembered him from the past. Well that was fine, since he had gotten on this ship it had been basically the same treatment he had gotten everywhere else. He had been lied too, shot, and kicked off projects, basically had his entire life tossed around, and now he was in lock up waiting to die. All in all he didn't have much positive to say about the crew of the Theurgy.

When Y'Lev asked him if he had failed his test of loyalty Jack just let out a sigh. "I made a mistake, and it cost me an arm, an eye, a lung, half my genetic code, my rank, my job, so many things have been taken from me along the last few days that I'm starting to loose count, but yes it all went back to having a choice, and making the wrong one."

"Of course other people lost more in my choices, but eh, no one cares to listen to my side of things anyway." He said softly. "And besides, you just want to know stuff so you can use it to your own advantage, and I'm done getting taken advantage of without getting any reward of my own. I think I've told you more than enough to survive."
 

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1230] Overcrowding

Reply #24 –
[ Y’Lev | Brig | Deck 7 | USS Theurgy ] @Masorin

Y’Lev regretted more than anything in his life, that he didn’t possess some sort of poison or compound with which he could have wrecked the shrugging lump before him. The apparent former Klingon thought he was so damned clever, and it made the Orion desire nothing more than to watch him cough up his own blood as he clawed at his throat and sobbed. The image was such a darling idea that he found it hard to restrain his lips from showing a smile.

Or perhaps, the Orion pondered, a slow, unsuspecting death would have been more fitting? Y’Lev pictured watching the man’s eyes slowly widen at the realisation of his own airways closing, his final struggles too late to make any difference… The small noise of satisfaction that left Y’Lev’s, lips at that idea, was thankfully covered up by the man’s incessant need to wallow in his own self pity…

His limbs, eye, rank, genetics, job and lung, apparently… According to his tall tale, he’d lost everything because he’d made the wrong call and ruined everything for himself… It made the Orion want to gag. And then to round off the former-Klingon’s one-stop vomit fest, he made it out as though he were doing the Orion a favour by bleeding his little heart out all over the floor of the Brig…

“If this is what you class as useful information, I understand why you’re rotting in the Brig.” Y’Lev replied somewhat matter of factly for his meek little Crewman Galo character, but he figured he could get away with it, with enough embellishment on his own frustration. “And I’m so, very sorry that my desire to know about my Sister is so inconvenient for you. I’m sure to you I’m acting like I’ve just had all of my friends killed following an ambush by your vessel, so you’ll have to forgive my h-hopes that at least s-someone I care about is still a-a-alive…” Y’Lev started out with the emulation of a strong, defiant voice, that cracked into a tremor and then broke into a sob. It was a lie on so many levels… He’d impressed himself. 

The Orion slumped himself back against the wall and huffed to himself in a pathetic little manor befitting his character. Had he been in the Brig for minutes? It felt like hours… How long had the dead silences between stumpy and himself lingered for? Y’Lev would hardly have called himself claustrophobic, but the thought of staring at the same three walls and forcefield for any longer was a pretty unbearable concept… Not to mention the occasional ruckus from the actual Klingons in the other cells…

He felt more fidgety as the time drew on, with every shuffle of his position making his scratchy Starfleet jumpsuit scrape against his flesh and irritate his skin. He tried desperately to stay in character, not to do anything that meek little Crewman Galo wouldn’t do, but every fiber of his being was screaming at him to get out of the accursed box of a room and do something chemical to clear his head. He wanted to move, to walk, to slam his head into the wall over and over until some undeserving little cretin scampered along and let him out of his accursed cage.

Oh what he wouldn’t give for a few slivers of Coridan crystal underneath his tongue…

But instead, he sat, only shuffling slightly on the spot as he felt parts of his body systematically throb from simple inactivity. If it was to move, it was to bring his legs up closer to his chest, stretched to better perch his elbows upon and hang his head down. He wasn’t used to having to stand such unbearable, waiting. Sheer inactivity forced upon him with no obvious end… His displeasure even somewhat amused himself… Y’Lev was more than happy to spend his time inactive, sprawled over a chaise eating delicate little morsels of the finest foods. How different was it to his current predicament?

It was inactivity against his will. The concept was despicable. A fate fit only for slaves and treasonous vermin…

If his mission continued the way it was going, it wouldn’t be long before he himself would end up in the latter of those unfavorable categories…

“Crewman Zeshryr?” A soft voice talked him out of his stupefied trance of anxiety that he hadn’t realised that he had been in. Realising only as he looked up at the ridge faced woman on the other side of the forcefield that his heart was pounding with overwhelming force, and that his breath was a little uneasy… “Could you come with me please?”

He straightened and brought himself to a stand as steadily as he could, taking into account both his bumbling alias and that he was wracked with a very undesirable sense of anxiety… He’d been enclosed before, for much longer than his time in the cell, so that couldn’t have been the whole reason he was finding his thoughts too quick to grasp onto. Perhaps it was that this time it was Starfleet’s clutches who had snatched their filthy paw around his wrist? Or perhaps even that somewhere beneath his surface thoughts, his unconscious mind was battling to understand the concept of parasites invading everything he thought he knew of the galaxy…

Either way, he was being collected from the cell, and Y’Lev understood clues. The Vulcan wasn’t his deliverer of justice, it was a woman with a soft voice and a kind face who would probably be far more sympathetic than a Vulcan when it came to delivering the sorrowful tale of a bereavement in the family…  His lips almost curled at the thought that it was almost certainly bad news… Well, good news for him… But not good news for the Orion in form only, who was hopefully maimed or dead…

It looked as though the day was perking up after all.

- FIN
Currently:
Ensign Sylvain Llewellyn-Kth - Chief CONN Officer - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]
Formerly:
Otheusz - Grey Scars Pirate - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]
Y'Lev - Syndicate Dominus - USS Theurgy - [Show/Hide]
 
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