Star Trek: Theurgy

Day 12 [0827 hrs.] Stark Contrast

February 28, 2020, 02:15:07 PM

"Stark Contrast"
STARDATE 57586.23
SUNDAY, MARCH 22, 2381
0827 hrs

[ Otheusz | Floor | Room | Big Ship | Space ] @Brutus @Numen @fiendfall

The Ornaran winced uncomfortably as he drew his eyes away from the overbearing lighting unit towering above him, tearing his vision back towards the doorway that he had entered through, wondering how long it had been since the yellow-chested officer had instructed him to wait. He wondered how long ‘shortly’ was in Starfleet hours? His vision danced with speckled black spots as he tried to focus on the details of the panel set aside the door, persisting long after he’d torn his eyes from the lighting unit, forcing the boy to bring a half-grimy hand up to rub at his eye socket with a soft growl under his breath.

Even the lights were taunting him…

Otheusz was sat somewhat hunched against the side wall of the room, his legs spread and bent at the knees, booted feet flush against the floor in case he needed to leap up in a hurry. His posterior was nestled somewhat comfortably into the carpet, with his lower back buried into the wall of the room, a defensive position if he found need to fight, he supposed… But either way, it was far more comfortable than he was accustomed to, with the hewn stone and bare metals of the Scars’ base of operations being far less comfortable than his current circumstances…

In fact, it was comfortable enough that even the feisty Ornaran had begun to feel his eyelids sink, tiredness grasping at him and tugging down upon his resolve. He’d been awake for a long time, a very long time. He knew from experience that his physiology was more efficient at storing energy than that of other humanoids, but that had it’s limits… Perhaps the hisses that the healers had put into him had further amplified his abilities; he’d been awake longer than he had been before, that he remembered, at least... Either way, despite whatever powers he possessed, Otheusz was slowly beginning to fall into a daze, tiredness and hunger clinging to his body like anchors dragging him into lethargy…

Yet, despite the unusually high levels of comfort and tiredness both battling to send the boy into a slumber, sleep was kept well at bay by his overwhelming anxiety…

Even back fighting in the war on Brekka, or waiting around before a raid on a convoy, fighting Klingon warriors, awaiting his Queen’s private attention, none of them had brought him quite the same agitation as waiting alone in that room had done… His hunger was matched by an unsettled nausea that hung within his belly like a burrowing rodent... His head spun with constant doubts and worries that sparked like electricity within his mind’s eye… In summary, Otheusz didn’t much appreciate the new feelings that were barraging his psyche.

Perhaps they were new, Starfleet feelings, that had infected him since he’d arrived aboard the morning prior?

No sooner had he stepped onto the bulkhead of the ship that Avi, Mate and Seren had brought him to, had he been rushed straight to the healing center. The ship was large, bigger than a city even, flooded with endless corridors and bright, burning lights imbedded in the ceilings, but still somehow completely invisible from the outside… The walk had been long and a man with a yellow chest had confiscated both pf Othesuz’ knives, along with analysing him top to bottom with a red flashing light. Thankfully, they had not confiscated the cat bones from his jacket pocket… He’d informed the man who had carried out the inspection that he wasn’t a Wagbog.

Otheusz hadn't thought that the man looked especially reassured by his comment…

When he’d arrived at the healing center, he’d been placed in something called ‘qua-ren-teen’. Sat on a metal bed as healers approached him with trays full of shapes and lights… They talked to him, and they didn’t get angry when he didn’t understand their words, they’d smiled whilst they’d used wands and crystals to make his cuts and bruises melt away into his body, and they’d pressed dozens of hissy-sticks to his neck, filled with colourful little rods that had made him feel fuzzy each time…

Someone checked on him regularly, offering him food and drink that he refused. They used the blinking red light to look at his body over and over again and again… But they were soft, quiet. They didn’t shout when he flinched away from their unfamiliar devices, nor did they strike him when he refused to do what they said… Still, he didn’t relax amongst the unfamiliar faces. He waited, ready, alert, awake…

The way they had treated him was unfamiliar; it made his skin crawl like beetles… He didn’t trust it. It all felt like a trick, a ruse, something to lull him into a false sense of security before they sold him back to the Queen…

Otheusz frowned in retrospect, those same toxic thoughts rising like bubbles in his mind, his small hand reaching up to instinctively nestle his fingers into the comforting softness of the pale brown fur that lined the shoulders and upper back of his trusty jacket, his fingers kneading into the fluffy warmth. There were a few less-soft patches where he’d not been able to clean out all of the blood, but he could avoid those areas almost without a fault.

They’d told him that he’d need to speak to someone… Someone who’d get to decide in what capacity that Avi, Mate and Seren’s ship would be able to help him.

A-sy-lam, they had called it.

Seren said that they would take him far away from the Queen… Avi had said that they could get him out of the Grey Scars… Mate had said that they would protect him… And Seren had too, said that Starfleet could protect him…

Otheusz propped his head up a little, raising it a few inches from its bow, taking a furtive glance back upwards towards the bright ceiling light once more.

He sincerely hoped that they were going to keep their promises.

Re: Day 12 [0827 hrs.] Stark Contrast

Reply #1 – March 06, 2020, 07:05:55 PM

[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | conference rooms near sickbay | Deck 11 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @TWilkins  [Show/Hide]

Service on the USS Theurgy had come with a slew of headaches that Natalie would never have foreseen. Chief among them clearly being the current plight of the galaxy, and the parasites trying to end everything. But some of the headaches were a little less galactic in origin. This morning, her head ache came from the good intentions of one seriously prickly Vulcan and an overly outspoken Risian.  It wasn't that she blamed them, exactly. Having read their reports, they did what was likely to be considered 'the right thing.' But she'd be damned if she'd let them know it.

Natalie should, of course, be grateful. This was a new experience for her, something that could be added to her file and skill set should she ever come up for promotion again (The odds of that were rather large, and implied more loss of life, that Nat did not want on her head. It wasn't as if they'd have a role in Starfleet even if they managed to deal with the infestation, right?). This was a learning experience. And she was as driven as any of her colleagues, looking to better herself. At the same time...

Sighing, she looked down at the PaDD in her hand one more time as she stood in front of the conference room. A smaller one, more personable. Monitored, of course, because the gentleman currently kept inside it was something of an unknown quantity, but all the same. He wasn't a prisoner. He was a refugee. And a former Pirate.

Pirates had given Natalie entirely too much grief over the past two weeks. Missed deuterium shipments leading to confrenations and assassination attempts from Klingon administraitors, and now kidnapped Starfleet officers. According to the reports, Mr. Otheusz was responsible for helping Lt. Kingston and his party escape the clutches of one of the local gangs. In return for that aid, Seren and Avi had offered the man asylum. And now it fell to Natalie to interview him, and rule on whether or not that would be granted. Thus she'd spent the better part of the past few hours of her morning reading up on the relevant laws and protocols.

She still felt anything but prepared, however there was very little she could do about it. Ives and Ducote had dropped this on her lap. She was swiftly becoming a point woman for new additions to the crew, even if this particular instance was somewhat unique.

"Nothing else for it," she noted softly, and then reached up and unlocked the door. It made a little chime noise, alerting Otheusz that she was about to come in. Another soft tap of her fingers and the doors split apart with a soft hiss, and Natalie stepped in,getting her first good look at the 'former' pirate. He'd been cleaned up, but the jacket still bore signs of the struggle from before. She was surprised that he had not been offered some coveralls or other clothing when he was in Sickbay. Perhaps he refused, she decided, looking at the man that reminded her of a caged animal far more than a person.

Swallowing, Natalie walked in. Knowing that she was being watched, and wasn't really in any danger, she forced a smile onto her face. "Mr. Otheusz, I believe? I hope I've pronounced that right. My name is Natalie Stark. I'm the ships Second officer. I've been asked to conduct an interview. It is my understanding that you are indeed seeking asylum aboard the Theurgy?" It was a lot to process, and she'd said it slowly, in what she hoped was a comforting and non confrontational tone.

Re: Day 12 [0827 hrs.] Stark Contrast

Reply #2 – March 11, 2020, 06:19:45 PM

[ Otheusz | Floor | Room | Big Ship | Space ] @Brutus

Othuesz remained hunched against the wall of the room, rubbing his eyes clean of the dark blinking lights, when the door sang a merry chime and alerted him to movement. He hesitantly drew himself up to a standing stance, his knowledge of Human custom and etiquette developed from his years with the ‘Scars, knowing that if he didn’t stand in the presence of his Queen, he was punished. His legs shakily remembered how to hold his weight at the same time that his half-blurred vision observed a woman enter the room and quickly turn her gaze to him… He felt vulnerable, her long hair and human physiology not so dissimilar to the Queen whom he’d so recklessly and dangerously escaped from.

Both of his arms nervously shifted up around his torso, protectively hugging at himself with crossed limbs as he shuffled his feet against the floor of the room. Fear slipped through his body like slush in his veins, the doubt of the situation blossoming in his head like a weed, the sheer isolation of his circumstance drawing in upon him like a black veil. He’d been so eager to leave the ‘Scars and escape the Queen earlier that day, back when the Starfleeters had suggested that a real taste of freedom could be within his reach...

He'd not considered that if Starfleet did not choose help him, how much worse his situation would become...

His breath rattled out shakily from his nostrils as the woman smiled at him, her lips not moving in the unkind way he had been smiled at before; he could tell the difference. It gave him some reassurance, but not enough to get him to reconsider his nervous disposition... It seemed that the woman would get to choose his fate.

Then she spoke to him, slowly, slow enough that he had a much better grasp of her words and what she meant. She said his name. She said her own. Nat-al-ee-stark. She used the word that he’d been told about, ‘a-sy-lum’, and he understood her words to mean that she was asking him whether he wanted it.

He did, more than wanted it. It was a need, an essentially, something that would decide what the rest of his life would and could be...

“Y…” He paused for a heartbeat, the word getting caught in his throat. “Y-y…” He struggled further, the word snared within his voice box as he attempted to offer his confirmation with what she had said. 'Yes' was an easy word, one that he knew well, yet it failed him. Perhaps it was his body telling him not to agree so easily to something he didn't fully understand the implications of? Perhaps it was the familiarity to saying yes to a Human woman whom controlled much of his fate? Regardless, he steeled himself and swallowed the mouthful of saliva that had developed, before he forced himself to speak.“Ye… Y-yes…”

He hardly had a choice now, after all...

“A-a…” He paused, inhaling once again. “A-sy-lam…” He managed, forcing the sounds out through his teeth whilst his eyes remained more focused on the activities of the floor. He was nervous, embarrassed, scared… He wasn't accustomed to begging or asking for help. In the Scars he did what he was told and he got what he was given. On Ornara, he took what he needed and charity didn't exist... The concepts of shame and embarrassment were not emotions that he was accustomed to dealing with.

But still, he proceeded to attempt to speak.

“Seren, and Ay-vee, t-told that...” He spoke with as much clarity as he could, stopping himself only to temper the trembling in his voice. He took a sharp inhale through his mouth, sniffing loudly and unfolding his right arm to rub his sleeve across his nose. “S-Starfleet can pr-pro-protect me…” He spoke in a tone that was as inquisitive as he dared, forceful in a way that screamed for reassurance; Seren and Avi had told him that Starfleet could protect him. “Pr-protec me, f-from Queen.”

But someone had to decide that; he didn’t much enjoy the uncertainty of another person deciding his fate.

Re: Day 12 [0827 hrs.] Stark Contrast

Reply #3 – March 18, 2020, 06:54:40 PM

[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Brig | Security Center | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @TWilkins  [Show/Hide]

If forced to use one word to describe the (hopefully) former pirate standing across the room from her, Natalie would likely use 'skittish.' The irony was not lost on her that many people had called her just that during her career in Starfleet, and even before. Since the accident. Now however, she was no longer sure it applied to her. Or, when confronted with someone like Othuesz, that it had ever truly applied to Natalie at all. Shy would have been a much better descriptor of the younger version of the Ops Chief.

Or perhaps...wounded is what this man is. Wounded in a way only a hard life could cause. This was not a pleasant thought, and the sympathy that naturally welled up inside of Natalie did not make it easy for her to remain objective in the moment. Though perhaps that was a good thing for the Ornaran asylum seeker. A sympathetic ear during a hearing would go a long way toward ensuring the man got what he sought - refuge. The weight of the decision settled in about Natalie's shoulders as she observed him, forcing himself to stand straight, though she immediately realized that he was avoiding her gaze. Was it a trait native to his planet, or something 'learned?' Not being a counselor, she couldn't say for certain, but Nat would put money on the latter, and not the former. 

So she smiled all the wider, and gently lay the PaDD in her hand on the table between them. She made no effort to approach him, just as she might have kept distance with a wounded animal. And she did her best to be as non threatening as possible - which was pretty easy. Most people did not word associate Threatening with Natalie Stark. She listened, quiet and attentive, as the man struggled to speak, and did her best not to interrupt him, despite some of her urges to the contrary. Running her tongue over her teeth, behind her lips, she centered herself as best she could, and gave a reassuring nod. 

"Thank you, Mr. Othuesz. I have spoken with Ensigns Seren and Avirim - Avi, as you know him," Stark told the other man, watching him as she spoke. "They have stressed that were it not for you, they would not have made it back to the ship in one piece. That but for you things would have gone quite bad and both....enthusiastically support your bid for asylum. That is a good thing, for the record." Everything she said at this point was for the record. The conversation would be recorded, and had been from the moment she stepped in. 

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, which will be recorded in case anyone wants to follow up with you later. This is all procedural, and normal. If you'd like, please take a seat. I intend to do so," she was taking pains to explain her actions, while not sounding like she was speaking to a child. This man was anything but that. 

Putting action to word, she slowly sat herself down across the table from Othuesz, and let him decide for himself if he would sit. . "I need you to state your name, officially. And then....I would like you to tell me about this Queen of yours. When we protect you, I need to know what we are facing so that I - and my crewmates - can best be adapted to deal with any threat they pose. I have reports from Seren and Avi, but I would like to hear from you, in your own words, about this individual."

Re: Day 12 [0827 hrs.] Stark Contrast

Reply #4 – March 20, 2020, 11:58:54 AM

[ Otheusz | With Nat-al-ee | Room | Big Ship | Space ] @Brutus

Blinking owlishly at the words of the woman before him, Otheusz made his best effort to understand everything he was being told, and to recognise where he was due to respond. He hung on each of her sentences, and appreciated that she spoke at a slower pace… The woman said names that he was familiar with, Seren and Avi, that they had ‘stressed’ that if it hadn’t been for him, things would have been much worse on the planet. She said the both of them had ‘enthusiastically’, supported his bid for asylum.

He wasn’t sure whether it was a good or bad thing for him. She said that it was a good thing ‘for the record’, but Otheusz didn’t know who, or what, ‘the record’ was… He hoped that it being a good thing for the record, meant that it was a good thing for him too…

She invited him to sit, moving to a chair on the opposite side of the table to him, perching herself down whilst she continued to speak. He watched her movement nervously, his eyes narrowed in suspicious anxiety, so much so that he almost missed her first sentence. He caught it, but then his eyes shifted to instead bore into the chair set for him, as though it was a threat, before he cautiously returned his attention to her with an unusual cock to his brow.

“Otheusz…” He replied, responding uncomfortably to the first part of her request, moving to sit himself upon the prescribed chair, bringing his legs up alongside. He perched the heels of his boots upon the edge of the chair, his shins poised against the table edge, his arms resting upon his knees anxiously. It was a defensive stance, his eyes glued to the table between them and not resting upon Nat-al-ee’s form.

He was being asked to talk about the Queen…

She was a figure that he hated, but also felt the need to obey… She had controlled his life for such a long time, gifted him with punishment and scorn so frequent, that her praise had made him feel inexplicable blends of hatred and pride. She’d been what some would describe as ‘mothering’ at times, toying with his hair and chuckling at him, all before shattering the illusion of caring by smothering him in her demands for sexual pleasure, having him place his fingers upon her and obey her commands without pause…

He still had parts of his back that felt different when he ran his fingers over them, back from when he’d disobeyed the first few times…

“Queen i-is…” He tried to think of a good word to describe her, of what she did… Nat-al-ee wanted to know what threat the Queen would be, if she wanted to retake her property from them… He could picture her seething, shouting at the other Pirates and demanding that they find him. Otheusz knew that despite her scorn and belittlement, he was a prized possession. She’d showed him off to people he didn’t know, people with white skin, and dark skin, and green skin and blue skin…

He knew that she would want him back...

“L-like black-feather bird.” He settled on, speaking lowly, with a defiant grit to his jaw. He pictured the animal he’d seen scouring the ghost city he’d lived in for so many years, a vicious, black-winged animal that only attacked people who were alone and injured, swarming them like clouds of feathers and beaks. A bird that would steal shiny scraps of metal and fly off with them, usually after giving someone a vicious peck in order to get them. Opportunistic and conniving; It summed up the Queen perfectly.

“Set traps, wound first.” He explained, his voice quiet and nervous as he talked into his thighs, jerking his thumb into his own sternum to enunciate that he was the catalyst in most of those circumstances. “Bait.”

She’d use him to lure people out, have him send out distress calls on derelict ships, waiting for someone to ‘rescue’ him. Then they would attack, engines and weapons, crippling ships and then looting them, sometimes the crew too, if they were valuable. Sometimes they killed them outright. Sometimes, she left them to die…

“Steal. Sell. Murder.” He continued, his voice somewhat mumbled, summarizing the Queen’s favourite things to do. “Cruel.” He continued, his breathing growing slightly heavier as he recounted so many sour memories of his beloved mistress… “Greed.” She saw him as property, and would undoubtedly want to see him returned, back to her ships to play dead, back to her ambushes to kill Klingons, back in their hangar to tinker with torpedoes… Back in her bedchambers to put his hands upon her thighs and…

“F-fo-force me t-to… To t-touch…” He sniffled with a shuddering gasp to his voice, feeling his eyes blur up with dampness, his body overcome with shame and embarrassment at his predicament. Instead of elaborating further, he overturned his right hand, stimulating his fingertips with a soft crackle of bioelectricity, the light dancing between his digits as he adjusted his eyes to glare into it.

It was his power, something that made him unique and valuable to the Scars. And she had turned it into her pleasure, turned his abilities, his species, into nothing more than something to entertain herself with… A sob choked through his lips, as years of torment and humiliation began to dawn upon him. The steely realisation that he had a chance to be free of it all. He couldn’t go back… He couldn’t go back…

She’d try and buy him back, if their ship was too big to attack, with precious stones and bars of shining metal. Begging wasn’t something he was accustomed to, he simply got what he was given… His words didn’t ever change a thing.

But he still looked up into Nat-al-ee’s eyes, and tried.

“P-ple-please, not s-sell me.”

Re: Day 12 [0827 hrs.] Stark Contrast

Reply #5 – March 28, 2020, 01:43:03 AM

[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Brig | Security Center | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @TWilkins  [Show/Hide]

When she had made the offer to take a seat to their 'guest', Natalie hadn't been sure what she had expected. There were even odds that he would remain standing.  What she hadn't counted on was that Otheusz would perch on the chair like a gargoyle on the edge of a building. It was clearly a defensive arrangement, giving him the ability to spring back - or forward, she realized. He could come right over that table and crash into her, and there would be very little she could do about it...

Except his entire body language was wrong of that. Natalie wasn't a trained counselor, but she didn't think she was the one that really felt in danger at that moment. He felt threatened even though he was likely the far more dangerous of the two of them. Natalie had hand to hand combat training - every Starfleet officer did. And she was slowly getting a refresher course from the Captain, and yet, she was under no illusion that she was far better off at a distance, with a phaser, then in fisticuffs. (All this being relative of course. She wasn't exactly a sharpshooter).

All of this went through her head in a matter of seconds as Otheusz got himself settled in. She gave him what she hoped was another encouraging smile, calling on every bit of training she had to keep the man at ease. But she soon found herself needing every bit of that training to keep her own composure. He spoke in a broken fashion, and though she did not have the foggiest of ideas as to what the black bird he spoke of was, she was able to understand almost everything else he put forth in his strained fashion.  She gently placed the PaDD she had on the table and wrapped her arms about her middle, as if protecting herself from the confluence of emotion pouring off the man across the table. 

The more he spoke, the deeper the anger Natalie found herself feeling grew. It started with a hot flare up, but quickly froze into something nasty and frigid. She realized she owed Avi and Seren an apology, for her own frustrations with them. She knew what her immediate recommendation in relation to this Queen that had held their people captive, and who had so clearly abused the man across from her that even she could see it, plain as day. Her jaw gave a firm twitch as she silently listened, not willing to interrupt with other questions. At this point there was very little doubt in her mind as to how this would progress.  Nat wasn't even scared or surprised by the flickers of bio-eletric energy that seemed to dance across his hand as he choked over some of what he had been forced to do.

But she was still shocked when he asked - pleaded with her - to not sell him back. Her eyes went wide and the color drained out of her face. 

"That is most certainly not going to happen," she blurted out, with no hint of hesitation or forethought. The words just spewed forth, and she had to take a moment to calm herself before she continued. "I do not know what you know of us, Mr. Otheusz, but Starfleet is not in the business of slave trading. The practice is outlawed on all Federation worlds, and any starship flying their flag is forbidden from participating in the trade."

Theoretically they could not stop anyone from dealing in other sentient beings - outside of Federation space. And yes, technically, Aldea was not Federation. It was, as she understood it, a Klingon Protectorate, which was not the oxymoron that it might have been a century before. And yes, technically, she had to admit that as fugitives from the current infested hierarchy of Starfleet, they weren't exactly acting on Federation authority either. The Prime Directive didn't quite apply, since this Queen had inserted herself into the Theurgy's affairs, but the ship was operating more on the moral obligations and foundations of the Federation, if not with their actual blessing. Thus, Natalie's direct authority was questionable at best. 

Despite all of that, it was a very simple decision for Natalie. In the end, it was a matter of right and wrong, and she could see no reason that they would have to turn away Otheusz. Should she do so, she'd not be able to sleep at night, and she had enough nightmares as it was. "We are not, never, going to sell you, or anyone else. Ever. The act is...reprehensible. 

"You are safe here, Mr. Otheusz. You are not going to be sold. You are not going to be beaten. We are not going to cage you away. It may take you some time to really believe me, but you are safe." They had moved far beyond the general grounds of an asylum hearing. This man needed some serious help, and he needed to feel safe. Yes, Natalie wanted to pump him for every bit of information she could about the woman that had held him captive for so long. But that would come later.  For now, she decided it was about convincing the man across from her that he was not going to be handed back to the woman who had for all intents and purposes enslaved him.

Re: Day 12 [0827 hrs.] Stark Contrast

Reply #6 – April 16, 2020, 03:27:28 PM

[ Otheusz | Floor | Room | Big Ship | Space ] @Brutus

Othuesz stared back at Natalie with an expression of concentration as she spoke to him in return, his brows furrowed defensively as he owlishly blinked at her each and every word. He listened carefully, cautiously, and whilst he did not understand everything that came from the woman’s mouth, he understood enough of her words to placate himself with a shallow nod. ‘Safe’. It was a word that he understood in theory, but not in practice... And it was a word he desperately wanted to embrace.

Yet when she’d offered that word to him, Otheusz hadn't found himself aflood with joy at the prospect as he would have expected… When he'd imagined this moment over his time aboard the new ship, he'd been happy with her words, relieved enough to jump at the ceiling and punch the air in triumph. A taste of victory over the grimness that his life had been mired in for such a long time. The woman was giving him her assurance, assurance that he would not be sold away to the highest bidder, that he would not be beaten or caged… That he would achieve a far-distant fantasy. That he would be safe.

And it wasn't that Otheusz didn’t believe the woman before him, that was not the cause of the sourness in his stomach.

Whilst he was certainly skeptical of her promises, that was far more a feature of his lack of hope or optimism, rather than a mistrust for the individual in front of him specifically. His other concerns were also not the cause of his distress. Neither the discouragement sourced from her female form, his apprehensiveness concerning the opposite gender, nor the fact she wore an unfamiliar uniform, and uniforms had always meant enemies during his time with the scars... But she hadn't undressed nor forced him to touch her like his Queen or some of her associates might have, and the uniform she wore at least meant that she was important, and important people were allowed to make decisions.

No, his unhappiness didn’t stem from a disbelief in her words; they didn’t feel like lies to him. Nor did it stem from a discomfort with her as an individual; she was nothing like his Queen…

His concern instead, stemmed from her use of the word slave.

He knew that particular word all too well. When they captured prisoners that the Queen couldn’t make ransom money off of, she’d defer to another group. A human with green skin would come to their outpost and she’d look over the prisoners. She’d examine their naked bodies, their musculature, their size, their height and weight, the inside of their mouths, their teeth and eyes, what color their skin turned when it was struck… And then she’d leave. It was never longer than a week later that a different group of people would take the prisoners and leave something in return.

Otheusz understood enough to know that those prisoners were slaves. Sold to serve another person. He understood what that meant for them.

He’d just never thought to apply that same term to himself…

Money had never been exchanged for him. He’d just been collected from death and that had been that; the Queen had saved his life and that had meant he owed it to her. He'd understood that well; from then on he’d worked for them, done the Queen’s bidding, proven his worth time and time again… Certainly repaid the debt owed with the lives he'd taken under her instruction... He’d never gained her approval or respect, and his tasks had grown ever more deplorable the better he performed… But she had fed him, housed him, supplied him with explosives and munitions when he needed them to work… It was a grim existence, but he’d never thought of himself as the same as the people that they’d captured.

And as much as he tried not to realise that association now, he couldn’t keep the thought from scratching at the walls of his mind… It was a thought that made him want to crumble into ash.

But, the Ornaran managed to peel his eyes away from the spot in the centre of the table that he was boring his gaze into, moving his waterlogged eyes back up to look in the general direction of Natalie, understanding that she was offering a way out for him. A way to never feel that way again...

“Safe…” He quietly repeated, nodding his head softly once again. He glanced over to one of the walls with a wet sniff, wiping at his face with his sleeve. The Ornaran wondered what safe meant in this context…

“I stay?” Otheusz asked hesitantly, using one of his fingers to gesture at the floor in an indication of the vessel they were aboard. “Or Starfleet take away?” He pointed elsewhere for that, somewhere over Natalie’s shoulder, an indication of Starfleet as a whole; he knew that it was at least two ships. “O-or to Ornara?” He asked a third time, pointing over her other shoulder, before his mind dwelled on that thought further, and the boy shook his head vigorously.

“No to Ornara. Not safe.” He told her, scarcely daring to imagine what sort of state his home would be in by now… It had been years since his people's war upon Brekka had begun, years of fighting and destruction... And that equally meant that it had been years since his people had gotten their hands upon felicium once again… He didn’t want to know what had become of them… He couldn't know what had become of them...

“Fur-jee safe?” He then asked slowly, trying to emulate the ship name that Natalie had earlier used and only butchering both syllables. “Or Starfleet safe?” He pointed over her shoulder once again, before lowering his arm slowly, and patiently awaiting her response.

Re: Day 12 [0827 hrs.] Stark Contrast

Reply #7 – April 24, 2020, 05:43:25 PM

[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Brig | Security Center | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @TWilkins  [Show/Hide]

Natalie could not know that her word choice has forced an unwelcome realization upon the man sitting across from her.She had come to conduct an interview for his asylum request, not imparting unwanted realizations. But what he had described to her was, without a doubt, slavery. That Otheusz did not realize this to be his actual situation was something that had not occurred at all to the Operations Chief. His cagey countenance she took as a simple defense mechanism.  In any event there was nothing she could do about it even if she had clued in to the conundrum she had just awoken for the man. That would be the job of the counseling department, under Lt. Commander Hathev, or whomever she assigned. Given there was an existing relationship between Otheusz and Ensign Seren, Natalie considered suggesting the Vulcan ensign take on the role. 

Though she could also see how that might be considered a conflict of interest. Still, Seren and Avi were the ones that had come to Natalie with this whole situation, so there was some justice in her mind in those two (or Seren at the very least) seeing Otheusz through the next stages of his journey. In the end it would be up to Lt. Commander Hathev, and Otheusz himself, and not Natalie Stark. No, her job was not to heal his mind or body. Her's was somewhat more simple than that. She was to offer him sanctuary. 

He finally met her gaze and she thought he might be on the verge of tears. Having shed a few of her own in her time, she resisted the urge to reach out and offer a comforting touch. Everything about him screamed that would not be a smart play. But she held his gaze and nodded when he repeated the word 'safe,' trying for a reassuring smile. Her lips quivered into one, but it did not meet her eyes. She wasn't sure anything she could say would help in that instance. Quietly she cursed her lack of foresight in not having tissues on hand. Hindsight is 20/20, she thought, recalling the ancient words of wisdom. She let him get it all out, nodding or shaking her head when appropriate, and then finally spoke.

"Yes, Mr. Otheusz. I will be recommending you stay. Your asylum will then be approved based on my recommendation." She spoke slowly, not patronizing, but explaining. His own broken pattern of speech had her asking all kinds of questions of herself, and his general level of understanding. She couldn't tell if it was simply that he rarely spoke, or that he was struggling with the language being used itself. Regardless, she took it slow and made an effort to be calm and kind as she did. "And since you have just made it clear that you feel your homeworld is unsafe, we won't be sending you there."

This was the big part, the one point she would need Ives and Ducote to confirm, but she trusted that they in turn would trust her. So she pointed down with one hand, tapping the table, mimicking his earlier gesture. "You will stay here, on the Theurgy until such time you choose to go elsewhere, if you do so. And we will keep you safe from the people you have fled from. You will be protected from those pirates, and we will help you in every way that we can.

"We have our own mission, and it is one that has its own perils. I will let Ens. Seren and Avrim tell you more of that. But we will do our best to protect you for as long as you wish to remain with us. If you ever leave here, it will be because you have chosen to do so. You  will be the one that decides what happens to you, Mr. Otheusz. You have that agency now. And none of us will tak that from you."

Re: Day 12 [0827 hrs.] Stark Contrast

Reply #8 – April 29, 2020, 05:51:37 PM

[ Otheusz | Floor | Room | Big Ship | Space ]  @Brutus

The Ornaran waited, listened, and attempted to understand her words the best he could. He still didn’t feel entirely at ease with the woman before him, but that wasn't unusual; he didn’t know if he ever would feel entirely at ease with anyone who shared any resemblance with his Queen... But regardless of his lack of ease, he did feel some aspect of reassurance radiating from her. She had listened to him. Not just pretended to pay attention. She listened, and she responded to him, she answered his questions. She spoke to him.

It wasn’t something he felt entirely comfortable with, the thought of someone else valuing his words. As much as he wanted to embrace it, it made his skin crawl like spiders and lice… It didn’t feel right for someone to be anything more than condescending to him. It made him feel as though he wasn’t worth her time. It made him second-guess his belief, his instincts warning himself to not trust her too-good-to-be-true words, that nobody would be so generous as to offer him assistance...

But he stayed put, remained still through her words, tried his hardest not to react as she told him that he could stay aboard their ship. He wanted to be happy, he was, perhaps, somewhere underneath his doubt. She told him that they wouldn’t send him to Ornara, or another planet; that they’d protect him, they’d help him, and if he ever wanted to leave, they would let him…

It felt wrong, foreign. He didn’t deserve it, which meant that it had to be a trick, a trap… He panicked, and shiftly glanced over his shoulder at the door.

But she continued talking, and he slowly turned back to her. She warned him of their mission, and the perils of it, news that made the boy’s eyes narrow in curiosity more than suspicion… She didn’t go into detail, said that Seren and Avrim would tell him, but her speech continued, telling him how the Theurgy ship would do their best to protect him, and that he would be the one who decided what happened to him… It changed from a promise, to a reassurance, and Otheusz decided that he understood the difference between the two.

The latter was better.

A promise was a lie. But a reassurance gave him far more confidence. It felt less like a lie, that it wasn’t a promise. It was a hope, but not a certainty. He understood the difference. He liked the second one better. The Queen made promises, gave absolutes, said what would and wouldn’t happen. She said that he would die if he left her side.

Natalie was telling him that he could die, if he stayed.

Would was a lie. Could was something else.

And if it was up to himself to decide what happened to him, he’d work on filling the gaps around that could.

If there was one thing he was good at, it was surviving.

“Fur-jee pro-tect me?” He questioned slowly, as if checking for any pitfalls as he spoke. He wanted to make himself seem more attractive as an option; she may have said that he could stay, but he needed to make sure that she had reasons not to change her mind, that he wasn't just a pet they would look after until they got bored. That he could be useful to them. “I… Pro-tect Fur-jee too.” The boy offered, eager to find a way to sweeten the idea in Natalie’s head, make her more so inclined to honour her word and accept him aboard. “Can make…” He paused, unfamiliar with the correct wording, and instead opting to gesture. He pressed the fingers of both hands together, creating an undetonated explosive, before rapidly bringing his fingers apart to demonstrate the result of a detonation.

“Put on ships, make wea-pons to throw.” He continued, prepared to list his other skills for the woman. "Break oth-er ships, de-fend ours... Knives too, can qw-ick kill K-lingons.” He nodded in confirmation of the fact. “Un-der-est-imate me. Small, but can…” He held his hand out and allowed a surge of energy to ripple down through his arm and into his fingertips, letting them crackle with a spark of bioelectricity as he waggled them. "Un-de-tect-able wea-pon." He quoted his Queen. She'd mentioned that phrase many times...

And that apparently made him valuable. The Queen had bragged about his abilities so many times, to so many people. Some looked like her, some darker, some lighter, some green. Some had bumpy faces and others had smooth ones. But she never let them take him away. They always wanted to, but she always stopped them…

It wasn’t out of care. She protected him because he had value…

He didn’t know if Starfleet would be different, but he figured, it couldn’t hurt to have value either way...

Re: Day 12 [0827 hrs.] Stark Contrast

Reply #9 – May 08, 2020, 09:46:31 PM

[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Brig | Security Center | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @TWilkins  [Show/Hide]

Again, Otheusz's broken speech made things a bit difficult for Natalie to decipher at first. She had to focus on his words, and parse them to make sure she got what the man was saying. 'Fur--ge' being Theurgy, as an example. 'Protect' however, that came through easily enough for the ops officer. She nodded, and then realizing that this might not be the kind of gesture that Otheusz's people used, regardless of how human he looked, she spoke a soft, "To the best of our ability, we will protect you." 

To promise anything more than this would be disingenuous, and Natalie had a hard suspicion that the man had been lied to and misled more than enough for multiple life times. She wasn't about to add to that count. But what he did next caught her completely off guard, and she was sure that her surprise showed on her face before she managed to get her reactions under control. When she had come into this room she had not at all been prepared for the man to offer up his services in turn - or the specifically violent nature they would take.

That said, Natalie managed to keep her mouth shut for the entire time that he spoke, making his offer. He seemed to be implying that he could work on starship weaponry. He would not be the first new arrival on teh ship that had some experience in that department, though Otheusz was decidedly not Starfleet. A certain Second Class Petty Officer by the name of Taa'gur Kolla came readily to mind, and for a moment she wondered how the clearly military minded officer would get along with someone like Otheusz. That would be an encounter for another day, if at all. 

Knowing she had to (once again) carefully choose her words, Natalie leaned forward, her hands clasped in front of her on the table that sat between her and Otheusz. "I want to start by saying that we do welcome any contributions that you may wish to make. We aren't going to turn down help from a new friend. But I need to make something very clear top you, Mr. Otheusz. Something that I want you to remember going forward. 

"No mater what you might have been used for in the past, you are, first and foremost a person, Mr. Otheusz, not a weapon. I am sure your skills are impressive and that you bring a lot to the table. Frankly, I can think of more than a few members of our crew who would be delighted to sit with you and work on some knives." Khorin Douglas, in this case, came to mind, but she doubted he would be the only officer that would be interested. Possibly even the Captain, when she gave the matter more than a passing thought. She was well aware that they had a deep martial tradition that included the use of a bladed weapon - a sword, if memory served.

That was not the point. 

"Your value is inherent. That is a core belief among my people, among the crew of the Theurgy. I hope with time you will believe that about yourself. You have a place here with us now, regardless of if you make your skills available to us. Our protection is not contingent on your...services. I will however discuss your offer with my commander, and I would suggest that you discuss it with Avi," she tried to use the same diminutive form that Otheusz had used, "when you see him next. I am sure that he will have some more constructive thoughts on the matter."

Taking a deep breath, Natalie forced a smile, and shoved down the apprehension she felt over the mans abilities and his offer, and just how they couldn't afford to pass that up. "Right now we have a more important matter to resolve. Your amnesty application. I am going to need you to do as I do.". Diverting her gaze away, she pulled up her PADD again, and read over the transcript that had been recorded there, inserted into the official request form. She pressed her thumb to a bar, and the PaDD scanned her identity quickly, confirming as she spoke. "This is Lt. Commander Natalie Stark. I hereby confirm receipt of, and provisional approval, pending review by Captain Jien Ives, of the application for, and the granting of asylum to Mr. Otheusz, effective as of Stardate 57586.23."

The PaDD gave a little chirp, and then she passed it around to the man on the other side of the table. "All you need to do is put your thumb on the flashing yellow box, and then state your name, and say that you 'officially accept the grant of asylum." She watched, patiently, and then when he had done so, collected the device from him. 

"Welcome to the Theurgy, Mr Otheusz."

Re: Day 12 [0827 hrs.] Stark Contrast

Reply #10 – May 25, 2020, 06:43:06 PM

[ Otheusz | Floor | Room | Big Ship | Space ] @Brutus

Otheusz shuffled slightly in his seat as the woman confirmed that she intended to proceed with his asylum request by allowing him to remain aboard, the efforts to protect him from the Queen, or perhaps other threads, were to be met, to the best of their ability. He wasn’t largely aware of the nuances of dialogue, but he was savvy enough to understand the way in which her comment carefully dodged the stance of being a full promise. It was good; it made him feel better. A liar had no reason to ensure they didn’t promise something that they couldn’t keep.

His frown threatened to twitch into a small smile, but his face did not buckle; he still had his apprehensions about their offer. 

Whilst speaking was not his strength, he was remarkably good at watching, and he noted that she didn’t seem half as excited as he would have expected when he offered his talents and skills to her. Perhaps she didn’t understand how good he was at making things explode? Or perhaps it was something else… His face drew into a puzzled close as he resigned himself to listening, listening to the way she told him that he was not a weapon, a comment that the boy did not entirely understand…

He was.

Most of his skills revolved around the craft of killing someone else. His use was directly paralleled with the need to kill others. Of course, many of the people he’d killed were people that would have killed him otherwise. He didn’t feel bad or remorseful about it… Except those few that weren’t a threat to him, the ones that the Queen had him kill on a whim… But even they held his fate in the palms. The promise from the Queen hovering behind him that his noncompliance would be his undoing...

But that was in the past now, he supposed, returning his attention to Natalie as she continued, informing him that she did indeed think his skills would be impressive, and that many members of the crew would like to work on his knives… Perhaps the Federation sported gladiatorial matches aboard their vessel? The Queen had made him fight in a couple, kill Klingons or other pirates. She was rewarded if he killed things there; he sometimes was given an extra bit of food after, always nice food. He learned to not be scared, to challenge them and to win. He was good at it.

Yet Nathalie curdled those thoughts with her next words, words about Federation belief and the belief of Humans. She told him that his value was inherent, that he had a place amongst them whether he helped them or not. She assured him that their offer of protection did not hinge on his ability to assist them, and recommended that he discuss it with Avi. He would try and do that…

But then she asked him to follow her, and she held the rectangular device in her hands and played noises on it, before she spoke to it. It felt official, authoritative professional. She introduced herself to the rectangle, and told it that she was granting provisional approval, pending review by Captain Jien Ives, that she would be granting his request for asylum. She said his name, she listed numbers, the device spoke back to her with a happy little noise, and then she passed it towards him.

And that was it, her instructions were simple; to place his thumb on the flashing yellow box and state his name.

It was that simple, and then he would be part of this ship, staying aboard, living aboard… He reached out his hand almost immediately, his thumb making a measure towards the box that flashed yellow just like the lights had done behind his eyes when he stared at them for too long.

She welcomed him as he moved, his thumb inches from the yellow, before he caught himself in place.

“Queen was like you…” He slowly revealed, withdrawing his hand slightly to push at the strands of his hair that covered the indentations in his forehead, the ones that the Queen had tried to dig out of his skull for anonymity, before giving up and letting his hair cover it. He ran his fingers over the indentations, before looking up at Natalie’s blank forehead. “She d-did not th-think…” He paused, slowly lowering his hand to the table and withdrawing his eyes back to the yellow box.

She didn’t think he had value beyond his ability to murder. She saw him as a weapon like someone else would see a disruptor, or a bomb.

The world seemed to crush in around him in a moment of doubt, reminding himself that he was not worth anything that Natalie had offered him. His only use was what the Queen ordered him, what the Ornaran Military ordered him, what the street gang in Ornara had ordered him to do. If he didn’t do as he was told he was punished. It was a universal constant.

He couldn’t believe that this place was different, his mind wouldn’t let him believe it, as much as the same mind forced him to desperately hope that it was. He screwed his eyes shut painfully, his hands moving back to scrunch up at his face.

“Queen did n-not agree with y-you, Nah-tah-lee.” He slowly, very slowly, informed the woman, looking somewhere down to the floor on his left side in lieu of facing her. “Was weapon. A-am weapon.” He nodded very slightly, very softly. “Not w-worth this…” His voice trembled with a threat of breaking as he spoke, his mouth twitching in a myriad of unfamiliar emotions to the boy. Hope, fear, relief, regret, loss, doubt, trust, realisation…

He felt sick.

“I not trust…” He revealed, sniffing as he dared the slightest side eye glance towards Natalie, his eyes lingering on her for a split second before he flicked them back to the empty space. “I not s-safe…” Otheusz relinquished his anxiety with a harrowing tremble. “Scared…” He barely whispered.

He suddenly steeled himself, his feet slipping from their position on the edge of his chair down to the floor, his folded knees collapsing into a half-straight position, emulating the same posture of the woman before him. It was uncomfortable, but he knew that a lot of things would be. He was scared, he was terrified, and he was quite sure that he wasn’t aware of what was terrifying him the most.

The Ornaran had assumed it was the change, the way that change had always been a punishment to him. He’d learned to fear change, been conditioned to detest it. Every change in his life had been for the worse. From a faming colony to a street gang. From a street gang to a military manufacturing plant. From a manufacturing plant to a warzone. From a warzone to a derelict vessel drifting in space. From that, to the Queen’s service…

And now, from the Queen’s service, to nothing…

He’d been given no criteria. He’d not been purchased to perform a task. As much as he could be, Natalie had told him that he was free. They’d protect him even if he didn’t help them… He was afraid of change. But from what he had seen of this change, of Avi and Seren, of the healer who used wands on his wounds, of Natalie, of the clean ship... It didn't feel like it would be worse this time. He didn't know what could get worse than the Queen...

Besides, he'd already decided on the change. He'd made that decision when he'd stepped towards the cells and spoke to Avi and Seren. There was no going back, and he couldn't stay where he was. This change was happening, so he didn't need to be frightened of it.

He just had to challenge it, like it was a Klingon.

Perhaps, unlike a Klingon, he wouldn't need to kill this one.

“Oth…” He began, trembling as he rushed to so something that he might otherwise be to afraid to follow through, panicking when he realised he wasn’t following her instructions, and bringing his thumb up and slamming on the rectangle with enough force that it almost snatched it from her hands. “Otheusz. Of… Off… Officially-y ac-cept t-the…” He sighed, panicking and screwing his eyes shut as he struggled with the words.

“A-sy-lam. Yes.”

He held his thumb down as hard as he could.

“Yes ac-cept grant a-sy-lam, Nah-tah-lee.”

Otheusz took a laboring hard breath, trembling all the while, before he forced his eyes to unscrew themselves, and, whilst forcing his body to maintain the position that emulated that of Natalie's, drew his eyes back to look at her. She’d said something to him, she’d welcomed him. He did the same.

“Well-come to Fur-jee, Otheusz.”

Re: Day 12 [0827 hrs.] Stark Contrast

Reply #11 – May 29, 2020, 08:34:17 PM

[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Brig | Security Center | Deck 07 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @TWilkins @fiendfall  [Show/Hide]

Given what would happen with the press of a thumb to a PaDD and the words spoken, Natalie had not expected it to be such a strugle for Otheusz to follow through. At first, as he reached out, she thought they would swiftly pass this next step, and then she could hand the man off to his friends. She had considered leaving him with a pair of security guards, but given everything, she would call upo Ensigns Seren and Avirim. After that, she would forward her reports to Command Ducote and Captain Ives with her recommendations for their authorizing her actions in granting asylum. She also intended to cc the report and recommendation to Lt. Commander Hathev that the man get immediate and thorough consoling. Even she could tell it was much needed.

That she should have understood the import for the other man was something she realized only in hindsight. At no point in his recent history, or possibly at all, had such a thing been offered to him. His own agency as a person. A safe place with no strings attached to him. Someone that valued him simply for existing. Control over what happened next for him. How then could that not be a deeply personal, and emotional experience. How then, could he not have hesitation. A change of that magnitude could have no other result. In short, his sense of self was being called into question, not just his future circumstances.

Hindsight was 20/20, as the old saying went.

Natalie did not at all like being compared to this Queen  that Otheusz spoke of, and opened her mouth to correct his misconception of her views on him as a person. He did not let up however, and she let her mouth click shut as he continued. Would she be any better than his former crime Queen if she cut him off and kept him from saying his piece? He needed to work through the thoughts that were plaguing him if he had any hope of moving on. Natalie then must by needs play the role of the avid listener; no matter how unpleasant the subject was.

Watching him bring his hand up to the boney indentations on his head, hearing him fumble, Natalie wanted nothing so much as to reach out and hug him. As far as bad ideas went, she'd had worse, but acting on the impulse then would have been pretty stupid. Not to mention out of character. She instead had to stand there, holding the PaDDD and keeping her mouth shut tightly least she say something to offend the man, to make things worse. He struggled through, and eventually, painfully, he pressed his thumb to the PaDD and said the words. He struggled through that too, but he did. He even welcomed himself to the ship, and Nat had to swallow back a sniff.

"Your Queen, is a wretched, horrible person," Natalie finally said. "But so help me, she won't be a problem any more. Thank you, for taking this first step. Welcome home Otheusz." She could think of nothing else, nothing better, to set him at ease. Thus satisfied, she took the PaDD and hit a transmit button. The statement and recording went off into the ships database, filed for the record, and sent to her superiors, and to the Chief Counselor as she'd told herself she would do. Then she tapped her hand on her combadge.

"Ensigns Seren and Avirim, please report to security center interview room 3 post haste." She looked at Otheusz and smiled softly. "I have a friend of yours here that should be given a tour of his new home, and I think he would very much like to see some familiar faces."

-FIN-