Star Trek: Theurgy

[2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

October 29, 2018, 08:34:04 PM

[Cadet Elro Kobol | Starfleet Academy Grounds | San Francisco, Earth | 2377] @Argyros

Elro’s breath fogged the air in front of him as he exhaled, the stillness of the evening holding a certain crispness that wasn’t uncommon for the end of February. The chill gently kissed at Elro’s cheeks as he walked across the grounds of Starfleet Academy, his scarf tightly fastened around his neck as he paced quietly along one of the cobblestone paths. His medical degree was nearing its climax at the Academy and he had been scheduled into a considerable amount of evening classes, observations and practical shifts that Elro only seemed to escape once it was well past midnight. It had turned him into something of a night owl.

However, he did have the good fortune of being able to book holosuite time very flexibly. Most of the other Cadets would either be asleep, studying, or out partying at one of the various locations throughout the city, which left the majority of holosuites available to book for when he finished classes. Elro’s upcoming program was a fencing bout against a series of professionally designed opponents, one he’d done many times before to hone his game.

He always needed a distraction when he finished one of his shifts.

The downside of heading straight to the holodeck however, was that he didn’t go home first to drop off his medical kit. His especially heavy medical kit. Unlike most of his colleagues, he didn’t use the standard issue Starfleet equipment that was recommended. His basic kit was a gift from his parents at the Cambridge Institute, which was supposedly more ‘cutting edge’ technology than the Starfleet issue gear. Honestly, Elro hadn’t really noticed much difference, but they were admittedly a little more sleek than their Starfleet counterparts.

As he entered the holosuite lobby, he made an immediate beeline for Holosuite Four, relieved to be out of the brittle air. His fingers glazed over the console as he imputed the program he was planning to run, only to have his request rejected, his input in error. Apparently, the holodeck was in use.

A small scowl formed on Elro’s face, checking his personal PADD to confirm if he had gotten the right time, the right day, and the right location. He had. His fingers returned to the console a second time, dancing across the monitor to confirm that the room was definitely in use by a D. Veradin. He lightly tapped the communication button on the console and waited for a few moments for an answer from the inside. Elro’s hand subconsciously began pressing his fingers into a phantom itch on the side of his head. 

It made him feel nervous, even the thought of entering someone else’s program without permission. He lightly tapped the communication button again and waited, but again he received no response. Elro assumed that the occupant had the program on ‘do not disturb’ mode. That considerably limited his options...

To just barge in seemed incredibly rude, despite the fact that the previous occupant had already overlapped his allotted time by eleven minutes. On the other hand however, the lack of response from someone who’d overstayed their allotted time could have been a cause for concern… Despite the holodeck safeties, there were numerous reasons that someone might have failed to leave their program on time…

Elro sighed to himself, fruitlessly knocking solidly on the doors to the holosuite as a precursor for entering without permission. He even waited for a reply he knew wouldn’t arrive, considering the doors were soundproofed. Eventually, he conceded to rudeness in lieu of throwing away his holodeck time.

“Computer, open the door to holosuite four, authorisation Kobol -Three-Nine-Six-Epsilon-Grey.” Elro asked, his authorisation code taking precedence over any previous occupant’s rules, seeing as the holosuite now registered as being within his time. As expected, the doors slid open and he stepped inside, dark eyes scanning the room to see what awaited him.

The first thing that caught Elro’s eyes was a tantalising trail of spots leading up from a devilishly low waistband, over a tight, toned body, winding up into the form of a shirtless male, his face twisted in concentration. Sweat beaded the Trill’s chest and abdomen, his styled hair partially flopped from, most likely, a combination of movement and sweat from an apparently intense holodeck program. The stranger was poised in a fighting stance that showed off his musculature exquisitely, the light dusting of hair across his firm chest making Elro feel almost a little flustered…

“Excuse me…” Was the Betazoid’s opening, the Trill shooting an alarmed look in his direction as he adjusted his posture as if Elro was the one he was planning to fight. Elro’s coal black eyes connected with the piercing blue eyes of the Trill for a moment and Elro couldn’t deny the twinge of electricity that he felt writhe through his stomach.

A dash of movement then caught Elro’s eye, the figure of a Nausicaan lunging out from outside the Betazoid’s view, no empathic print indicating that it was a hologram rather than a flesh and blood, evidently the aggressor in the program the Trill was running. The Trill noticed it in time, but not quite fast enough to fully move out of the way as a blow landed across his right side, right across the line of tantalising spots decorating his side.

The Trill hissed in pain, which Elro found amusing from a holographic assault, however, it was only as the Trill clamped his hand down on the area that had been struck, that Elro noticed the sickly glint of blood.

The hothead was playing without the safeties on.

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #1 – October 30, 2018, 12:32:11 AM

[ Cadet Derik Veradin I Starfleet Academy Grounds I San Francisco, Earth I 2377 ] Attn: @TWilkins
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The heavy doors hissed closed behind him, sealing the Trill in with a resounding thud, and disappearing like a mirage. The holosuite was currently configured to look like a large spacious cavern. One third of the room was occupied with aged ruins, pale white stone contrasting the dark brown of the surrounding space.  Another, smaller zone was dotted with larger rocks, big enough to conceal someone. Fine sand lined the floor, loose on top but deeply compacted underneath. Diffuse but more than adequate light filled the room, the sources carefully concealed. There were several simulated tunnel entrances off to the sides, pitch black despite the room’s light.

“Computer Seal Doors. No entry without my authorization.” Derik called.

[Affirmative. Doors sealed.]

Derik adjusted his duffel bag, its weight a little uncomfortable on his shoulder. He walked over to one of the fallen pillars, setting it down on the floor and pulling the zipper open.  From within he pulled the things he needed today: a D’k tagh, his workout towel, and his PADD. He set the folded towel on a flat nearby flat stone, the pure white cloth adorned only with a small black and gold Federation crest in the corner. 

He stripped out of his uniform, down to his stardard issue underwear, carefully folding it and storing it into his bag. The kind of program Derik was about to run could mar it. From within the bag, he produced combat pants and boots, slipping the pants on. He took his time lacing up the boots, making sure they were secure. Derik didn’t bother with a shirt. He preferred to workout without one. Compact muscles rippled under his skin as Derik went though a few stretching routines.

Activating his personal PADD, Derik called up the data from his previous exercises. He activated a wireless link, connecting with the
Holosuite’s system. Fingers danced across the screen, checking the program one final time before accessing the safety protocols. A warning sign flashed up in red, asking for confirmation, to which he hesitated briefly wondering if he was really ready for this.  Derik had participated in his fair share of security training programs, both in classes and in his free time but this was a new beast. He tapped his authorization in, lowing safeties to the bare minimum. The holosuites on campus wouldn’t allow them to be completely disabled without and instructor’s authorization. He set the PADD to record and placed it next to the towel.

The D’k tagh was plain and unadorned. It was a replica made for training exercises, replicated so Security Cadets could practice with weapons they might encounter in the line of duty. Like this program, Derik had gotten it from a bar buddy going through advanced Security training. Even so the weapon was functional, replicated to be exactly the same as the real thing minus the bells and whistles. He strapped it to his thigh, making sure to synch it tight so it wouldn’t move.

The Trill walked into the middle of the room, hand drifting down to knife strapped to this thigh. He drew it slowly, the sheath making a soft click as it released the weapon. Curved guard blades popped free of the pressure fit, the rest of the weapon following suit. The replica was sharp enough to shave with, its edge reflecting the diffuse light.

Derik took a deep breath, his grip tightening on the hilt. “Computer,” He called, “Begin Program.”

A roar echoed from a tunnel to his left, a humanoid form rushing from with its depths. Large, ashen grey skin, ridges, wild black hair, with small tusks around its mouth. The Nausicaan barreled forth, right at Derik. In its hand was a long slightly curved blade, one edge serrated.  He crouched low, ducking under his opponent’s rush, using the hologram’s momentum as a fulcrum to flip it onto its back.  He tried to pierce its heart and end the fight, but it rolled clear.

Time melted away, the two exchanging blows back and forth without mercy. Derik was no expert at hand to hand combat yet, but he was no slouch either. An uphill battle the whole way, Derik had to compete against a physically superior opponent. But his smaller size proved to help balance the scales, using his increased movement to stay ahead of the game. Their battle took them all over the room save for the white stone ruins, the system avoiding Derik’s personal belongings. The hologram rushed him again. Derik faked swipe at its neck, distracting it long enough to deliver a heavy blow to its stomach and even more powerful kick center mass. The hologram was knocked off its feet, landing amongst the tall stones.

A loud thud assaulted Derik’s ears, sound emanating from behind him. He half turned, drawn by the source. The Holosuite’s door had reappeared, a man standing in front of it. He was wearing a white coat, cadet uniform with blue accents, tan skin, medium brown or dark blonde hair. “Excuse me…” A look of confusion dotted the intruder’s face as he tried to get his attention.

Who the hell….Derik didn’t have a chance to finished that thought as he spun, trying to bring his focus back on the Nausicaan. Too slow. Something sharp and hot like fire lanced across his right side, pain blooming across his abdomen. Derik bared his teeth, hiss escaping from between them in anger. His hand flew to the wound, clamping down, hot blood slowly leaking through his fingers. Fuck!

The Trill was now at a severe disadvantage, caught between putting pressure on the seeping wound and defending himself from his opponent. The Trill relied on instinct and reaction now, no time for thinking. His dagger flashed, intercepting, locking, and then deflecting the Nausicaan’s blade. His side burned, wound not terribly deep, but the movement pulling at its edges. He grappled with the stronger opponent, locking blades with him as the intercepted a punch aimed at his stomach. After a short exchange of blows, the two became locked together, turning a battle of skill into a battle of physical strength. A battle that Derik was rapidly losing. The Trill’s muscles screamed in protest.

“Computer Freeze Program.” The intruder ordered loudly behind him.

The system complied, Nausicaan freezing like time had stopped. All pressure being exerted by his opponent vanished in an instant. Derik took a deep breath, untangling himself, a part of him thankful for the end of his bout. A much larger part of him was furious. He was running this program so late at night to avoid interruptions. The system wouldn’t have killed him, just fought until Derik could fight no more. His hand clamped over the dripping wound again. He looked down at himself, sweaty as hell, thin lines of blood trailing down to his pants. It was being absorbed into the waistband, which had slipped a bit lower, the black fabric turning darker with the liquid.

“THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!?” Derik roared at his intruder/savior, spinning to confront him. He stared right into their eyes, dark brown or black he couldn’t yet tell. "That door was sealed for a reason. You don’t interrupt an in-progress combat training exercise unless it’s an emergency.” His voiced lowered a little but his breathing was still labored from the exercise and his anger.

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #2 – October 30, 2018, 05:33:47 PM

[Cadet Elro Kobol | Starfleet Academy Grounds | San Francisco, Earth | 2377] @Argyros

“Computer, freeze program.” Elro ordered sharply, eyes wide in shock as he watched the Trill attempt to fend off the holographic Nausicaan, all the while spilling blood down his side. He watched the Trill breath sharply and heavily, his emotions a gentle shade of relief overshadowed by a tempest of fury directed at the Betazoid. The Trill’s strong hand clamped down on the wound on his side again, his face screwing in discomfort as thin trails of blood tentatively ventured into the dark waistband of his red-edged trousers.

Elro couldn’t believe his recklessness, a combat simulation without full safeties was something that was only ever done in the presence of a trained instructor and a medic. Elro would know, having been that medic more than once, how many injuries the program could cause. The program was only intended to stop if the program was defeated or ended, the player conceded, or the player’s injuries were calculated by the holosuite computer as being too severe to continue. Alone, he could have gotten himself near-killed.

Coal black eyes made note of a Klingon dagger in the Trill’s hand, a warrior’s that made Elro tut a silent disapproval. Not even Starfleet issue. He recognised the program as one only used by third -year Cadets undergoing advanced Security training. The Trill was neither a Security operative, judging from the trim of his bottoms, nor a third-year. The hothead had bitten off more than he could chew.

“THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” The Trill bellowed, spinning on the spot to cast a wrathful glare onto Elro, who met the gaze of the Trill with some trepidation and a cool stare. “That door was sealed for a reason. You don't interrupt an in-progress combat training exercise unless it's an emergency.” The Trill thankfully lowered his voice a fraction, but Elro knew well enough that the lower volume was not an demonstration of a sudden calmness.

“Before you direct your frustration onto me, perhaps I should mention that not only is running a combat simulation game without full safeties, alone, outside of a training class, utterly reckless and entirely against Academy protocol.” Elro paused, observing the way he tensed at the Betazoid’s words. Elro could tell that the Trill wasn’t the least bit appreciative of Elro’s feedback. “But you’re also encroaching on my holosuite time.” He finished with a cool tone.

Elro wasn’t particularly in the mood to get into an argument with some junior, hotheaded Trill over holosuite time or devout recklessness. He wanted to have a few bouts of fencing, safeties on full, before going back to his dorm and getting some sleep. However the blossoming Doctor inside him wasn’t able to disregard the thick blood that was slowly beginning to seep through the gaps between his fingers, leaving little dribbles of crimson running down his hand. The wound was most likely superficial, but he needed to get it regenerated at the medical facility.

“You should go to the Medical facility to get that looked at.” Elro begrudgingly advised the hothead, shrugging off his bags and placing them down, leaning them against a white rock, the caduceus symbol glinting in the artificial light of the holosuite’s sandy environment, making it clear to the hotheaded Trill that Elro would be staying.

“Tell them that Elro Kobol  sent you.” He advised the Trill, not giving him a chance to speak in return, his cold tone of voice intended to show the hothead that anger wasn’t the only way to deal with things. “It’s standard procedure that they obtain my statement before they write up the report to the disciplinary board.”

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #3 – October 30, 2018, 10:29:20 PM

[ Cadet Derik Veradin I Starfleet Academy Grounds I San Francisco, Earth I 2377 ] Attn: @TWilkins
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"Before you direct your frustration onto me, perhaps I should mention that not only is running a combat simulation game without full safeties, alone, outside of a training class, utterly reckless and entirely against Academy protocol.” The intruder took a short pause. “But you're also encroaching on my holosuite time."

Derik’s body tensed up, his mouth twitching in anger. He walked over to where his PADD was, never taking his eyes of the man as he went. He picked up the pristine white towel and pressed it against the bleeding wound, small stains of crimson seeping through. He then tapped his PADD’s screen, stopping the recording and checking the time. Derik had indeed overlapped his allotted time by eleven minutes and checking the sensor data, He had seen that his intruder did try to signal him a couple of times before coming in. Still….

"You should go to the Medical facility to get that looked at." The intruder started. He walked over near Derik and set down his bags. It was then that Derik noticed the med kit, not exactly standard issue, sleeker, shinier. Doctor then, or at the cadet was training to be one. Then, as if Derik wasn’t annoyed already, his “guest”took on a colder tone. "Tell them that Elro Kobol  sent you. It's standard procedure that they obtain my statement before they write up the report to the disciplinary board."

Black eyes. Derik tried to think of the different humanoid species that had deep black eyes. Human? No. Human’s eyes could be dark brown but he’d never heard of black. Betazoid. Yes, that was it. Great. So not only was Derik being quoted protocol by the would-be doctor, but a damn doctor that could read his mind? Derik knew there were rules against such things without the recipient’s permission but that didn’t always stop telepathic individuals from bending them occasionally.

“I wouldn’t be quoting Starfleet regulations to me Mr. Kobol .” Derik began, his own voice, turning cold. “From where I stand, you barged in on a Combat simulation without authorization. The only way you could have done that is if you used your personal access codes, codes that had medical overrides embedded in them, which I’m assuming you they do from your coat, colors, and medkit.” Derik’s side twinged, the towel getting wetter. “As a result, you distracted the occupant, in the middle of a fight, which directly resulted in said occupant getting injured.”

Derik motioned with his chin towards the wound. “I’m also pretty sure that the Hippocratic Oath you Doctors take goes something like ‘First Do No Harm’. From where I’m standing you’ve already failed there.” The Trill didn’t let up. If this Betazoid wanted to spar, Derik wasn’t about to concede so easily. “Then there’s the issue of my wound itself. You’re working to be a doctor and telling a fellow injured cadet to report to the Medical Facilities. What do you want me to do? Walk over there, leaving a trail of blood the whole way?” Derik’s arm flung wide, accentuating the questions. “If you think the Disciplinary Board is going to lay into me for running a dangerous program, imagine what they’ll do to you when they find out you sent an injured classmate to the Medical Facilities when you could have at least stabalized him…”

That last statement wasn’t really a threat, but it definitely presented as one. The Trill sighed. Coming down from his adrenaline high, the aches and pains were beginning to set in. He was uncomfortable to say the least and the last thing he wanted to do was explain why he was bleeding all over the place to the Medical Personnel. There would be far too many uncomfortable questions.

“Look,” Derik took a deep breath, his voice calming, “Why don’t we make a deal? You patch me up so I don’t have to go get treatment and we can keep these breaches of protocol to ourselves. Nobody gets disciplined, everybody wins.”

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #4 – October 31, 2018, 07:01:17 PM

[Cadet Elro Kobol | Starfleet Academy Grounds | San Francisco, Earth | 2377] @Argyros 

Elro couldn’t help but deliver the lightest chuckle at the hotheaded Trill’s desperate response to the threat of disciplinary action. Whether the boy was attempting to frighten Elro with a flurry of hot air or whether he genuinely didn’t understand the protocols he was quoting, Elro wasn’t quite sure. Either way, his effort was amusing, as were his dynamic gestures that he used to demonstration just how far it was to walk to the medical facility. It was fairly cute, in the same way that an angry kitten was cute when it mewled.

“That would be perhaps the weakest disciplinary case in the history of Starfleet…” Elro mused aloud. “I ‘barged in’ on a simulation that you shouldn’t have been running, after attempting to contact you twice. You got injured, but entirely due to your own negligence for running this program without supervision. Neither you, nor anybody else, could hold me responsible for you injuring yourself whilst running a dangerous program.” Elro responded with a raised eyebrow, pluntly putting it across without bothering to fluff his words for the angry kitten glaring at him.

However Elro did understand where the Trill was coming from in regards to his wound. It probably would be irresponsible to send the boy staggering off to the infirmary with such a cut in his abdomen. Besides the logistical aspect of it, the flustered little face of the Trill made Elro feel the slightest bit guilty about him getting a possible reprimand; the medical facility would ask a lot of questions. Elro had no doubts that it would not reflect badly on himself in any way, however running this program could get the Trill in a lot of hot water.

Indeed, the Trill was evidently a hot headed idiot. But perhaps not one deserving of a formal reprimand.

“But…” Elro began through gritted teeth. “Considering that you’re bleeding all over the holodeck, on this occasion, I’ll see to it. Though it’s completely irresponsible to not have this put on your medical file...” He continued, with a slight sigh. The Betazoid reached down to pick up his medkit and opened it, pulling out the sleek black dermal regenerator, all that should be necessary for the wound, before walking over to the sweaty Trill and squatting down in the holographic sand next to him. “But if I catch you doing it again, I’m reporting it.”

“Sit down and try and hold still.” Elro breathed, through his mouth in order to avoid breathing in the Trill’s sweaty musk, the sickly sheen coating his chest making it evident that the smell would probably be somewhat overpowering. “This might sting, I obviously don’t have any analgesics with me.” Elro informed him, before reaching up his left hand to gently move the towel that was pressed to the wound. He couldn’t resist throwing a sly glance up. “Try to be brave.”

Without giving the Trill a chance to respond, he put his hand one side of the wound, feeling the other tense under his delicate touch. A hiss slid out of the Trill’s mouth, which Elro largely ignored. The blade had cut through the skin on his flank, just above the external oblique. Elro held the handle of the dermal regenerator between his teeth for a moment as he reached down to obtain his tricorder, his left hand leaving the Trill and slipping to the device, retrieving the scanning module and running it across the wound slowly.

As he first suspected, it was superficial. The damage was minor and no major organs, muscles or tendons has been cut. Pleased that the damage was negligible, Elro carefully folded the tricorder up and returned it to the kit, taking the dermal regenerator out from his mouth and placing his hand back on the Trill’s side. The hothead cursed in response.

“It’s okay kitten.” Elro chuckled. “You’ll be fine.”

The Betazoid activated the dermal regenerator, which whined softly in his’s careful hand as he delicately brought it up to the injury. The wound knitted closed as he drew the device gradually across it, his eyes observing carefully as the device worked, his hand steady as a rock. Within a few dozen seconds, it was done, the wound healed, no visible damage discernable from the rest of him.

“Not bad at all…” Elro congratulated himself, swapping the regenerator into his left hand and bringing his right hand up to the area that had been wounded. His soft fingers ran across the area, right across the Trill spots that the cut had interrupted. There wasn’t any indication that any damage had been done.

Elro smiled to himself, hand pressing on various areas around the wound to check for any internal damage that he may have missed. His finger traced along the pattern of the spots along the wound as well, checking to ensure that there was no scarring or damage that may have broken the pattern. In both instances, he found the wound to be entirely traceless.

As his hand drifted slightly further away from the area that had been wounded, checking again for any muscle tenseness that might indicate spasm, his hand began to explore the Trill’s skin that was still glossed over with a sticky sheen of sweat. Elro breathed in as his fingers explored slightly further upwards, forgetting to breathe through his mouth and having his nose get filled with the work-out musk from the Trill, a scent that Elro shamefully found rather intoxicating.

Elro’s fingers hesitantly traced the sticky skin of the Trill’s spots, his nose filling his lungs with the Trill’s odour to an extent that he felt his face flush. He remembered his position and professionality, and withdrew his hand before his wound-analysis could be misconstrued for something else. Whilst this close, the Trill’s body was almost irresistible, and the tantalising sheen to his skin was just inviting the Betazoid to plant a solid kiss along the oblique, he resisted.

Elro was used to denying his urges.

“Good as new.” Elro replied with an unexpectedly watery mouth, swallowing down some saliva as he glanced up at his impromptu patient. “How does it…” Elro paused. The Trill was glancing down to him with a lopsided smirk, a raised eyebrow, and a devilishly knowing look in his eye.

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #5 – November 01, 2018, 08:39:10 AM

[ Cadet Derik Veradin I Starfleet Academy Grounds I San Francisco, Earth I 2377 ] Attn: @TWilkins
[Show/Hide]

“That would be perhaps the weakest disciplinary case in the history of Starfleet. I 'barged in' on a simulation that you shouldn't have been running, after attempting to contact you twice. You got injured, but entirely due to your own negligence for running this program without supervision. Neither you, nor anybody else, could hold me responsible for you injuring yourself whilst running a dangerous program."

Derik struggled to suppress the urge to cross the short space between them and break the pompous asshole’s jaw. He locked his lips together, grinding his teeth to stop himself from responding. His mouth got him into too much trouble as it was. Last thing he needed was to get reprimanded, again, for wagging his tongue or assaulting a fellow student.

"But..." There as a short pause. “Considering that you're bleeding all over the holodeck, on this occasion, I'll see to it. Though it's completely irresponsible to not have this put on your medical file..." Uh huh. So much for your “no help tough guy” bravado. The Betazoid grabbed his medkit, retrieving a black device from with its confines. He nonchalantly walked over, squatting next to Derik as if this was some chore. "But if I catch you doing it again, I'm reporting it."

Right…whatever you say. We both know you’re just being a douche because you think you’re the better man.

"Sit down and try and hold still." Kobol  started breathing through his mouth instead of his nose. Derik was sweaty from the exercise but it’s not like he smelled bad. Did he? He would have wiped himself down if the towel wasn’t busy soaking up his blood. He took a seat on the cool stone, still holding the towel to his wound. "This might sting, I obviously don't have any analgesics with me."

HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU A DOCTOR AND DON’T CARRRY AROUND BASIC ANALGYSICS? Derik practically screamed in his head, eyes gleaming with disbelief. What kind of doctor are you?

Kobol  moved the towel out of his way, blood smeared across the wound and fresh air causing the exposed nerve ending to fire, pain spiking. "Try to be brave."

The hell is that supposed to mean? Please tell me you’re joking!

Pain, searing pain. Worse than before. Sharp and muscle penetrating. Derik watched with equal fascination and hate, his hands trying to grind the stone he was sitting on into dust. The Betazoid’s fingers were probing the exposed wound. Derik’s side involuntarily tensed up, which only made the pain worse. His lips parted and a loud hiss escaped his lips. He couldn’t help himself. Clearly Kobol  did not care about minimizing pain. Fucker. The doctor grabbed his tricorder, freeing up a hand by placing the black object between his teeth. He ran the scanner over the wound, slow and precise. Satisfied with what he found, Elro put the tricorder away, retrieving the device from his mouth.

“Shit!” Derik was very unhappy with how long Kobol  was taking to knit the wound.

“It’s okay kitten.” The bastard chuckled at him. “You’ll be fine.”

I swear, if I get the chance, I’m going to kill you with a bloody spoon. The oldest, rustiest, dullest, spoon I can find.

Elro activated the black device, moving slowly, methodically over the wound. The edges of Derik’s wound began tingling, like little spikes of electricity crisscrossing. The skin began to knit together. Dermal Regenerator then. Slowly the blossoming pain turned into a dull ache.

“Not bad at all…” The Betazoid’s fingers assaulted the area again, poking, prodding, pulling at the skin.

Better not be any damage to my spots.

Elro’s touch started to change, wandering a little farther and lingering a little longer than it should have. The soft tips of those fingers trailed upwards creating tiny trails in Derik’s glistening skin. A deep breath, this time through the nose. What was that about? First his mouth and now his nose? The following inhalations were long and deep. The Betazoid’s cheeks began to redden.

“Good as new. How does it…” Elro stopped as if catching himself, withdrawing his hand, his eyes drifting upwards.

Derik met the Betazoid’s eyes, a smirk rapidly growing upon his lips, eyebrow raising. No matter what bravado this Doctor was trying use as a mask there wasn’t a doubt in Veradin’s mind that Kobol  was feeling him up. Busted.

“If I didn’t know any better Doc, I’d say you were enjoying your work a little too much. Never been this close to a Trill before? Counting my spots?” Derik didn’t let up. “You know if you’re really careful you could find out exactly how many I have…” The Trill laughed, “Though it may take you awhile.”

He roughly grabbed Elro’s wrist, pulling back to his chest. Forcing the surprised and stunned Betazoid, he dragged the doctor-in-training’s hand down his body all the way to his waistline, hooking the man’s fingers inside. Just as Derik was getting Elro to pull down the edge, Kobol  yanked back his hand, snapping out of his stupor. Elro tried to say something, the words coming out slightly garbled. Derik only half listened. He was enjoying the look of shock mixed with anger on Kobol ’s face. To see this pompous fool get word locked was worth an hour of quips. He was so flustered, so taken by surprise, and maybe just maybe a little unbalanced. Revenge was so sweet.

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #6 – November 02, 2018, 04:30:23 AM

[ Cadet Elro Kobol | Starfleet Academy Grounds | San Francisco, Earth | 2377] @Argyros

“If I didn’t know any better Doc, I’d say you were enjoying your work a little too much.” The Trill teased, his smug expression elevating Elro’s flush to a slightly more vibrant shade of pink. “Never been this close to a Trill before? Counting my spots?” If possible, Elro felt himself get even hotter, his entire body seeming to broil in his own skin as a cold sweat of nervousness beaded against his skin.

He in fact, had been just as close to a Trill in the past. He’d seen many throughout his years at the Academy, not to mention autopsy reports and triage patients he’d seen both in class and in his practical shifts at the Medical facility. Elro had never, however, found himself kneeling in front of such an especially irritating one, inhaling his sweat and touching his muscled flank. Elro cursed at his somewhat sparse sexual experience and inability to control himself… 

“You know if you’re really careful you could find out exactly how many I have…” The Trill continued, still wielding a disgustingly smug tone on his tongue, a laugh escaping his perfect lips. Perfect? Elro inwardly wailed at his own description. The hot headed idiot certainly wasn’t deserving of any of Elro’s compliments… Despite how deliciously kissable his lips were… Kissable? Elro mentally screamed at himself for even thinking about such a repugnant person in such an intimate context. He was not going to fantasise like some dewy-eyed schoolgirl over this belligerent Trill, just because he had a pretty pair of lips and an intoxicating scent…

“Though it might take you awhile.” The belligerent continued teasing, perhaps mocking? Elro wasn’t sure without using his empathy and he didn’t dare use it. Getting an empathic read on the thoughts of the Trill would unlikely help Elro’s composure. In fact he dreaded what might be going through the Trill’s head at that moment… Nothing virtuous for certain...

In his distracted mental state, Elro felt a rough grip seize his wrist, pulling the Betazoid’s hand flush against a firmly muscled and sweat sheened chest. Elro didn’t even know how to react when he felt the hand around his wrist start forcing his soft fingers to slide lower and lower down the Trill’s abdomen. His soft fingertips trailing through the sweaty glaze smoothly, subconsciously enjoying the sensation of trailing over taught muscles glazed with sweat, before Elro felt the soft kiss of a cotton waistband against his fingertips.

Elro jerked his hand back from the grip of the Trill forcefully, glaring at him with his mouth agape. The sound that Elro’s mouth relinquished was somewhere between a shout and a squawk, and had Elro been less utterly bamboozled by what the Trill had just done, he would have been embarrassed by it. Another second or two and Elro would have had his delicate Doctor’s fingers against the Trill’s… The Betazoid tried hard not to think about it, for fear of embarrassing himself further. .

The Trill looked disgracefully smug, obviously having delighted in making Elro feel so festeringly uncomfortable. Elro tried to formulate some form of complaint, but his tongue flopped like a fish out of water in his mouth, and the sounds that he made were unintelligible. Half of him felt as though his entire body was being immolated by his own exasperated vexation, whilst the other half would have gladly reached over choked the Trill until his smug smile fell right off of his face.

But most of all, Elro felt simply mortified to have been so embarrassed, in such an intimate context. Especially by some fiendish Trill who was still thoroughly and obviously amused by the situation. Elro wasn’t finding it particularly funny. He wanted solitude, and this humiliation was grating on his composure. The Betazoid decided that he’d been the subject of embarrassment enough for one day. He wanted to be alone, in the holodeck, like he had arranged. Not have his relaxing evening turned into a dance of mortification by this belligerent Trill. The arrogant cretin hadn’t even thanked Elro for his help with the injury.

“Computer.” Elro called out, turning away from the Trill and retrieving his medkit, returning the devices he had used to their allocated locations. “Activate holoprogram London Fencing Alpha-Four, two participants.” The Betazoid requested, the sandy environment and rocky stones disappearing and being replaced instantly.

Their new environment was more clinical, the room was largely white, with a pale brown elevation in the centre, a long platform roughly two metres wide. Dotted at the edge of the room were racks containing different types of holographic blade, plus racks of protective gear that was largely unnecessary in the holodeck. Elro moved towards on of the weapon rack, the white floor delivering a slight spring in his step as he did so.

“Épée, Foil or Sabre?” Elro asked the Trill, completely talking over whatever it was that the Trill had begun to say, his flush receding in place of the confidence he gained when he was wielding a weapon in a fencing room. The combination of flawless footwork and absolute concentration making the Sport one of his prouder endeavours, combining years of ballet with years of athletics in an almost perfect union.

His hand running over the handles of the blades made his discontent at the situation seem more distant, less painful to know his first sexual experience had almost be robbed from him. Elro had not wasted his teenage years staying faithful to a pre-arranged spouse, only to have it stolen from him by a reckless Trill who’d robbed him of his holodeck time. Though his spouce’s death had given him freedom to explore his homosexuality, he didn’t intend to insult her memory by laying around with whatever stumbled into the holodeck.

Elro poised his hand deliberately at the handle of an Épée blade, which would have been the most straightforward of the three fencing styles for the Trill to choose for the bout, though not necessarily the one he’d go for. Of course, he hardly expected a Trill who ran programs with Klingon knives and no safeties to be educated in the variations between fencing styles so Elro enlightened him moments after he asked the question. It would only be fair to give the Trill an educated choice as to how he wanted to be beaten.

“If you don’t know the difference, I can enlighten you.” It was a statement, not a question, that Elro delivered over his shoulder, feeling emblazoned by being in his realm of comfort, but not yet willing to turn and face the Trill. “With an Épée, you get points for landing a hit with the tip, anywhere on the body. With a Foil, you get points for landing a hit with the tip, only on the torso. And using a Sabre is a more aggressive style where you get points for landing a hit with the tip or edges, anywhere above the waist.” Elro gave the Trill a brisk rundown, assuming that the Trill would be feeling his smug confidence washing to the floor.

Elro’s hope was that the Trill would dismiss the challenge and leave, most likely having minimal, if any, knowledge of fencing and therefore be unable to have even a chance of winning the bout. Of course, Elro’s absolute expectation was that the Trill would accept the challenge, regardless of his knowledge or his ability of the sport. At least the later would give Elro the chance to quash his competitor’s confidence, something Elro was looking forward to.

“I don’t know how you are at the art of parry and riposte, but since your expertise appears to be Klingon weaponry, I’d assume it’s not your greatest skill.” Elro turned softly to glance over his shoulder, “So I completely understand if this is a fight that you want to back out of…” Elro couldn’t help but deliver one final comment, knowing that despite his hopes, the Trill would most likely not back down. Instead, Elro delivered a calm taunt, not cruel, but cold, clinical, just like Vulcan sarcasm.

“After all, it would be humiliating to lose at two different holodeck programs in just one brief hour…”      

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #7 – November 06, 2018, 10:18:16 AM

[ Cadet Derik Veradin | Starfleet Academy Grounds I San Francisco, Earth I 2377 ] Attn: @TWilkins
[Show/Hide]

"Computer. Activate holoprogram London Fencing Alpha-Four, two participants." Kobol  called out while securing his belongings. The room shifted, Derik’s combat program morphing into a large rectangular room. The new environment was vastly different, whites and pale greys. Despite having more than ample light, one wall was filled with windows that looked out upon a courtyard of some sort. Even more light from the artificial sun outside filtered through, leaving the room bright. In the center of the room stood a raised platform, large and rectangular. It was the dueling zone, easily recognizable as it was the only zone marked in the room.

Fencing? Why does that not surprise me? Derik opened his mouth to chide the Betazoid but was interrupted.

"Épée, Foil or Sabre?" Elro asked as he moved to one of the racks dotting the room. Derik watched as Kobol  ran his hand over various weapons, as if greeting old friends. Typical. He finally chose the Épée, his hand caressing the hilt for a second before gripping it. His movements spoke of past experience. Lots of past experience.

Like I would know what the fucking difference between those were.

"If you don't know the difference, I can enlighten you.” Kobol  didn’t bother turning around, powering right though and preventing Veradin from getting a word in. It nagged at Derik but he kept his mouth shut.  “With an Épée, you get points for landing a hit with the tip, anywhere on the body. With a Foil, you get points for landing a hit with the tip, only on the torso. And using a Sabre is a more aggressive style where you get points for landing a hit with the tip or edges, anywhere above the waist."

Oh. Well at least this arrogant S.O.B. has enough decency to explain the rules.

"I don't know how you are at the art of parry and riposte, but since your expertise appears to be Klingon weaponry, I'd assume it's not your greatest skill. So I completely understand if this is a fight that you want to back out of..."

Don’t say it. Don’t you dare fucking say…

"After all, it would be humiliating to lose at two different holodeck programs in just one brief hour..." It was cold. Far too cold for how Betazoids normally speak. Too calculating, too emotionless, too…Vulcan. It wasn’t said as a challenge but it sure was received as one.

…it. I’m gonna pull out that silver spoon you have shoved up your ass and choke you with it. Someone was actually challenging Derik’s honor? No. No way. Not on Veradin’s watch.

The Trill ground his teeth, most of the words he wanted to say swallowed before they could escape his lips. He had lost he advantage his surprise move on Elro had made. Not good. He had to gain some semblance of control again. “To set the record straight, I would have won that match if you hadn’t INTERUPTED me. All I got was a couple of bruises and as soon as you walk in, I get tagged across the side.” Derik’s hand brushed the freshly healed wound, phantom pain blossoming for a brief moment. The sweat on his body that had yet to evaporate glistened like tiny shining beads in the extensive light. His words were matter-of-fact delivered with an equally cold voice, or at least he hoped it was. The Trill was done hearing about how Kobol  thought he was right. If the closet case had taken the time to check when he was feeling the Trill up, he would have seen Veradin was right. Not that it really mattered at this point. The aches he felt from them was nothing compared to his own desires for revenge.

Derik calmly walked over to one of the weapon racks, his eyes scanning the different weapons. Each one was similar, but also different enough to make the choice difficult. He finally settled upon the Épée, giving it a few test swings for good measure. It was a solid, if predictable choice, but Derik didn’t care. He was not well versed in weapons designed almost exclusively for piercing. The blades were also much longer and thinner than he was accustomed. It was an art lost to modern combat after all. Derik had chosen to at least become acquainted to weapons he’d likely run into out on the frontier. Fencing weapons were…unlikely.

“And if you think I’m going to back down, you’re very mistaken.” Derik stepped onto the center platform and moved to one side. He’d seen a couple of fencing matches while at various bars and tried to remember how they were supposed to function. Only problem was he was often inebriated during said matches. Wish I’d had drunk less and paid more attention. Nothing would stop the Trill however. He wasn’t the type to give up when the going got rough, even when he had to fight uphill. “I’d rather lose a fight than cower from the likes of you.” He swung the holographic sword to emphasize his words.

“But I can guarantee you one thing: This duel will not go the way you think it will.” Veradin burned with cold fire. He wasn’t angry per say, but rather stared at his opponent with contempt. He’d make Elro regret challenging him, even it meant taking a beating too. 

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #8 – November 29, 2018, 04:07:21 PM

[ Cadet Elro Kobol | Starfleet Academy Grounds | San Francisco, Earth | 2377 ] @Argyros

Elro watched with a soft expression as the Trill bristled over to the holographic weapon stands, bleating once again about how his injury had been Elro’s fault, rather than his own. The Betazoid resisted rolling his eyes at the Trill’s inability to accept his own mistakes. His dark eyes watched as his opponent selected an Épée and gave it a few test swings, as if he had picked up a Klingon ‘Mok’loth’ or whatever the weapon was called. Elro naturally hadn’t ever paid much attention to the study of Klingon weaponry; it was uncouth, barbaric, and delivered revoltingly messy wounds.

“And if you think I’m going to back down, you’re very mistaken.” The Trill added gruffly, stepping up onto the raised piste that dominated the center of the room. “I’d rather lose a fight than cower from the likes of you.” The Trill continued, swinging the holographic blade in a way that was probably designed to intimidate Elro. Instead, it made the Betazoid fight with a chuckle.

“Naturally…” Elro mused under his breath with a small smile, before he followed the Trill, stepping up onto the piste softly and saluting his competitor in the traditional style, to raise his blade so that the guard was just at face level, before lowering it again in swooping motion to the en-garde position. “Computer, begin bout.” He firmly instructed.

“En garde.” The computer announced with its usual female monotone enthusiasm, Elro drawing back so that his foot was behind his line, his eyes hinting enough that the Trill did something of the same. “Ready?” The computer then asked, Elro following it up with a confirmation.

[Ready.]

His eyes glanced down at the Trill, who nodded, before confirming the same.

[Allez!]

Elro darted forwards a few steps, before fainting back, his first step drawing the Trill into a barreling move forwards, his épée catching the light and glinting elegantly. The muscular chest of the Trill tensed as he drew his arm up for a strike, which might have made Elro lose focus, had he not been in a single mind about winning the bout.

Without too much effort, Elro caught his own blade against the Trill’s and deftly parried the clumsy blow, striking his blade solidity against one of the Trill’s abs and making the room flash with vibrant red light, indicating that a point had been scored. The Trill looked at the lights almost in shock, before the computer updated the pair on the scoring.

[Elro Kobol , one point. Derik Veradin, zero points.]
 
With a soft smile, Elro withdrew back to his en garde line, delivering a small smirk to the Trill, apparently called Derik, as a hand gesture instructed him to withdraw the same. Elro could tell that Derik was already feeling frustrated by the art. He had the footwork of a targ and that suited Elro well. His years of ballet had developed near flawless footwork before he’d even picked up a blade. Following that, it was just learning to combine his steps with the necessary feints and parries required to best his opponents.

The Betazoid’s solid black eyes scanned his opponent once again, watching the sweat glisten across his taught back as the light changed to neutral once again. He was certainly an impressive specimen; had they been engaging in less artful and precise form of combat, he imagined that the muscular little Trill would have bested him.

But Elro didn’t see that happening this time.

[Allez!]

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #9 – December 20, 2018, 07:26:03 AM

[ Cadet Derik Veradin | Starfleet Academy Grounds I San Francisco, Earth I 2377 ] Attn: @TWilkins
[Show/Hide]

Derik looked down at the tip of Elro’s weapon pressed against his stomach in the red tinged light. So fast. This wasn’t just a hobby for the Betazoid. This was a passion. Even with Derik’s lack of familiarity with the weapon, the blow had landed far faster than he had anticipated.

Then the Betazoid pulled back with soft cocky smile. Fucker.

Oh no. He was not about to let this asshole win.

[Allez]

Derik rushed forward again, this time no intention of attacking. Even as he managed to intercept his opponent’s blade, his momentum never ceased. It carried him right into Elro. Their bodies collided, a look of shock barely crossing the Betazoid’s face before they both lost their balance. Derik’s mass sent them heavily down onto the platform, landing with a loud thud, wind being knocked out of the both of them. The impact was less than friendly to their bodies as well, the hard surface no doubt going to leave a bruise or two.

You know when it’s said that time slows down in those special moments? This was not one of those moments. Not even close. Time sped up. WAY up.

They rolled across platform, until Derik ended up on top of Elro. The Trill’s heart beat so fast in his chest. He’d just tackled another cadet. His legs were slipping in the poor positioning he was half laying, half crouching in. Elro bucked underneath him, desperately trying to get him off. Veradin reflexively moved to steady himself. Which resulted in his leg brushing up against the doctor-in-training’s groin. A groin sporting something stiff.

YOU WERE FUCKING WITH ME YOU LITTLE TWIT! I KNEW YOU WERE CHECKING ME OUT! The cadet pinned Kobol ’s wrists and legs against the platform. Rage swelled over him at being played, being toyed with. If the doctor just wanted a good time he could have asked.

Derik didn’t care what Elro’s excuses were this time. No more toying around. As if Derik would let this Betazoid continue to use him as his plaything. He leaned down, roughly kissing Elro. It was hot and heavy, filled with a desire for some sort of revenge. The kiss was not reciprocated and Derik broke it after a moment to find out why.

He was not met with the image he thought he’d see. Elro was frozen, staring up at him, not moving. His eyes were full of shock, horror, and was that…a tear?

Oh fuck.
Oh Fuck!
OH FUCK!

“I’m sorry.” He practically whispered, rolling off the man beneath him as he realized what he’d just done. “I’m so sorry.” He didn’t look back. Practically jumping off the platform he scooped bag, towels, and knife, throwing everything inside the duffel and running out of the Holodeck. He just left Kobol  laying on the platform. He couldn’t stay, couldn’t bare to face what had just transpired. He’s misjudged the situation. Badly.

What the hell did you just do Derik?!? You just sexually assaulted a fellow cadet! Not only did you feel up his crotch with your leg you practically raped him with your lips. Your life in Starfleet is over if he reports you! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU???

The Trill didn’t care if anybody saw him, running half naked across campus. It was late and he just wanted to get back to his room. Thunder rumbled above, much imitating his mood. It took a few minutes but he made it back, quickly tapping the code and slipping inside. His night was ruined, his life with Starfleet was ruined as well. Why. Why had he acted so recklessly? He couldn’t breathe. He had to calm down. Had to focus his thoughts.

“I need a damn shower.”

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #10 – January 14, 2019, 03:50:36 PM

 [Cadet Elro Kobol | Starfleet Academy Grounds | San Francisco, Earth | 2377] @Argyros

It took Elro entirely off guard when the Trill rammed into him like a comet, his hard shoulder digging into Elro’s sternum and taking the Betazoid completely off his feet. The Doctor registered the pain that soared through him, and the solid smack his body made as he was thrown to the floor, but he didn’t quite recognise that he’d been rammed until he tried to breathe, and found his lungs drier than a Starfleet ration pack. Had the swords not been holographic, Derik probably would have run himself through.

From his shoulder, along his side, down to his boot, Elro’s body was blistered with searing hot pain, from where he had taken the brunt of his less than ceremonious introduction with the floor. But the impact took the pair sprawling further, rolling along the piste until the two had almost tumbled off of it, Elro feeling ruthlessly battered as they came to a stop, Derik lying atop the Doctor with a predatory look in his eye. A shuffle of movement from the Trill atop him made Elro wince, breathing in the Trill’s odour and feeling his hot skin pressed against his uniform.

Elro felt like a thirteen year old boy. Sexually speaking, he had little enough experience that he practically was one. Physically he wasn’t one though, and the fact that the tackle from the Trill had given his body enough stimulus to become physically aroused was mortifying for the Doctor. Even more so when the Trill’s knee pressed against it, squeezing it against the Betazoid’s stomach and making Elro teeter on the edge of consciousness. His concentration was so shaken that he let his strict control over his paracortex slip, gaining immediate insight to the Trill’s thoughts.

You were fucking with me you little twit! I knew you were checking me out!

Elro was so distracted by the thoughts that his brain had lanced into, that he barely put up a struggle as the Trill pinned down the Betazoid’s limbs, slamming his wrists into the deck plating of the hollow deck and pinning his legs down solidly. Elro knew enough of the following thoughts of the Trill to know that he had the wrong idea… Derik had misidentified Elro’s desires…

Elro suddenly felt himself seize up, cold terror wrapping a corset around his chest. He suddenly realised that the Trill was about four layers of cloth away from raping the Betazoid. Whilst Elro was taller, the Trill was certainly the stronger of the pair… Elro wouldn’t have much of a fighting chance.

A protest formed on the Betazoid’s tongue, prepared to admit that he’d never so much as kissed another male before, that he didn’t want anything like what the Trill had assumed, but his protest was cut off by a movement that thoroughly invalidated it. A rough pair of lips suddenly clashed against Elro’s, hot, hard and heavy with enough force to terrify the Betazoid. The wet warmth of the Trill’s tongue grazed against Elro’s lips more than once in the moment that they shared, before they withdrew with as much speed as they landed.

Elro felt the emotions of the Trill cartwheel through from gratification, to annoyance, to worry, to mortification, but Elro couldn’t dwell on them. He’d always wanted to save his first kiss. He was a natural romantic who thought that his first kiss should have been with the person he would spend forever with, in true Betazoid fashion. He’d just been robbed of that chance.

“I’m sorry.” The body on top of him barely whispered, as the weight that was pinning Elro’s limbs withdrew. “I’m so sorry…” Realisation blossomed in both the mind of the Trill and in his broken voice. Elro wanted to accept the apology, but shock gripped him to hard to even recognise it. The sounds of the Trill’s movement reached the Betazoid’s ears, but he didn’t recognise them at all. He felt his emotions brimming behind his eyes, and he could barely consider anything else.

Elro wasn’t quite sure how long he had laid still as death on the cold, hard pithe, before he began sobbing. Sobbing turned to blubbering and he had soon rolled himself into a foetal position with tears and warm snot streaming down his face. It wasn’t just what the Trill had done. It had upset, scared, and even hurt Elro to have been robbed of his first kiss like that, and the cold grip of terror around his chest over the fear of being raped was still crushing down on his ribs..., But Elro was Betazoid enough to know an honest mistake when he felt one; he couldn’t fully blame the Trill.

Instead, his unsettled mind somehow drifted back to his late fiance, name engraved on a cold epitaph back on Betazed, his body never recovered after the Dominion’s occupation. He who he’d saved himself for for his whole life, and whom he’d spent his whole life begging his parents for a chance to explore. He’d fought against the conventional marriage his parents had set up, every step of the way… Eventually, they relented and found him a male who suited his needs, and his parents. Only for him to end up buried in an unmarked grave, desecrated by Cardassians... No doubt spending his last days in agony and terror.

And there he was, slumped on the hard floor of the holodeck, crying like a child, because his perfect notion of romance had been shattered. Or perhaps, because it was the first time it had dawned upon the Betazoid that his idea of a romance never truly existed. He’d spent his whole life fighting for the ‘perfect romance’, a male Betazoid whom he could love and cherish, only for it to have been ripped away when it was finally within his reach. Did that mean he would spend the rest of his life alone? Neglecting his own needs out of respect for a dead man? Or was it simply because he was afraid of intimacy, of loosing something else he cared so much for...

When attractive people from fencing bouts, gymnastics groups, dance performances and wherever else decided to approach the quiet Betazoid and compliment him, it had always been easy to quickly renounce them with the apology that he was already taken, be it either his female betrothed, or his male. One was a safety net, the other was a dream come true. But now he had neither excuse.

The Trill was handsome, perhaps a bit sexually belligerent and certainly a trifle too reckless, but he wasn’t a monster. Yet Elro had taken pleasure in beating and jousting with him, if only because that hid any promise of intimacy or openness. Elro didn’t really have friends, let alone anyone he was intimately related to. Socialisation beyond bedside manners was alien to him; it wasn’t easy to make conversation with people when you felt the ebb and flow of their emotions as he spoke.

Elro sat up, cuffing his face, still smelling the sweat of the Trill still on his uniform. Elro knew he wasn’t as sensual as other Betazoids. He was awkward and frigid and uptight… And whilst he was more than content being in his own company, he couldn’t deny his loneliness on those cold nights with nothing but pillows and PADD’s to keep him company. Yet socialisation was unbearable; public places, bars and clubs, it was all too empathically deafening for him to withstand.

His scuffle with the Trill was the most socialisation he’d had in months.

In some ways, in hindsight, it was refreshing to meet someone who had been so belligerent and overconfident, someone who forced Elro to size up to him. It made the situation heated, but forced the Betazoid to communicate with him. It somehow worked.

“Computer, end program.” Elro announced with a small sigh, pulling himself to his feet, walking back towards where he had stowed his medkit, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, appearing from behind a fading rock. A personal PADD. Not his own, Elro’s was a sleek black, a gift from his doting parents. This one was standard grey, evidently belonging to Derik.

Elro wagered that he needed to return it, perhaps clear the air with the Trill as a courtesy at least. After all, the Cadet was probably preparing for a sentencing for attempted rape… 

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #11 – April 14, 2019, 08:01:28 AM

[ Cadet Derik Veradin | Starfleet Academy Grounds I San Francisco, Earth I 2377 ] Attn: @TWilkins
[Show/Hide]

As if by a miracle Derik made it back to his apartment without running into anyone. He keyed his access code in and slipped inside. The unit wasn’t small, easily being one of the larger living spaces on campus. His parents had arranged for a nice apartment for him to stay in while at the academy. Living room, balcony, kitchen, bedroom, full bathroom, the works. Lights gently activated as the atmospherics adjusted to his preference. Passing through the living area, he tossed his bag next the clothing refresher and stepped into the bedroom.

His remaining clothes were peeled away and tossed into the hamper, until he stood in naught but his own bare form. Sweat still glistened along his body from his rapid egress from the holosuites, creating a sheen which caught the soft light. His head hurt from the shear situation of it all. Autopilot was about all he was running on at this point. He didn’t even realize he was already standing in the shower until the system hummed on and warm water began falling upon his head.

It didn’t help. Despite the anger he felt for himself for his actions, the Trill found himself thinking of the Betazoid more and more. It wasn’t simply sexual, as their first meet had turned out quite disastrously, but also curiosity. The man was arrogant, yes, but he was also quite…. vulnerable? No no that wasn’t the word for it. Or was it?

Dear lord it is…

The revelation kind of opened Derik’s mind to a slightly less antagonistic point of view. Elro had to be inexperienced. His reaction showed that he didn’t know what to do/was overwhelmed. It was just a kiss and yet it overloaded every reasonable thought the man had. Derik couldn’t have been the first person he’d ever kissed right? First kisses could be quite awkward but the Trill had never heard of someone just going comatose.

Now that would just be cruel, though it would explain quite a bit.

No. Not kissed. Was sexual with.

And you basically slapped him in the face with it.

In the middle of the holodeck of all places.

In the middle of campus.

That’s either the funniest shit or the worst thing in the world. Time will tell which.

Veradin let the thought sit in his mind for a moment while he focused on taking the shower. Soap and water washed away all evidence of sweat and soil from his body, helping to refresh and clear his mind. The steam filled his lungs warming him from the inside and out.

He is adorable though.

Wait what?

He’s hot. There’s no way you wouldn’t have jumped that if things had gone differently.

Despite the fact that his career was probably over at Starfleet and that he had basically assaulted the fellow student he was still thinking of ravaging the guy?

Yet he couldn’t deny the image in his mind. Elro WAS gorgeous. The Ancient Humans had a god called Adonis. Elro was a fair approximation was he not? Chiseled chin, slight stubble, beautiful black eyes.  He had a well-cared for form, hints of muscle underneath the uniform but nothing so bulky as to be ridiculous. He could have reached up the man’s shirt, felt what was hiding underneath. Or down the Kobol ’s pants, grabbing the organ.

The Trill looked down. The answer was more than obvious. Quickly becoming painfully so.

Just how messed up are you Derik?

Go back and find out.

It was like his conscious and subconscious minds were at war, fighting over what was right and wrong, what his mind felt he should do, his body wanted him to do, and what he knew he had to do. He’d have to track the man down tomorrow, formally apologize, and turn in his resignation from the academy immediately after.

Or you could let things play out.

Why the bloody hell would he do that?

Because the man may come back. Wouldn’t be the first time.

No. No. No. This isn’t just another fling. He’s not going to come crawling back just because he wants some companionship.  I need to do the honorable thing. Take responsibility.  I should turn myself in before security has to come collect me for what I did.

The man was probably turning Derik in right now if he wasn’t still laying on the floor.

The rest of the shower was spent without thought, gratefully. Derik cleaned himself up, ignoring the parts straining for attention from his earlier imaginations. When the water stopped falling upon his form, he stood there for a second, hands pressed against the wall, filling his lungs with the remainder of the steam, wishing the water had just melted him away from all his problems. Body washed “clean” of the day, Veradin finally stepped from shower, drying off. He checked himself in the mirror, where he had been cut in particular. The skin was perfect not only to his eyes but under his fingers. Not even a hint of a scar. The spots he so cherished from his heritage moved seamlessly down his body.

"I can’t even be mad at him for leaving a scar. The work is impeccable." He took a deep breath. "Really screwed the Targ on this one eh?"

A sigh escaped the cadet’s lips. The whole situation was terribly wrong, blown way out of proportion by Derik's actions. Wrapping himself in a fresh dry towel, Veradin stepped back into the bedroom, donning a clean pair of underwear from a nearby dresser. Somehow staying naked under the towel just felt wrong right now. He took the damn thing off and wrapped it around his shoulders instead.

Are you being too emotional right now?

It’s not that you are being too emotional. You’re scared. Rightly so. But you should have stayed and attempted to remedy things rather than run away. You made the situation worse by fleeing. The whole thing could have been de-escalated if you had explained. Instead you took advantage of him, assumed he was playing hard to get, and took your shot. You misjudged the situation. Quite horribly.

While his mind fought with itself, Veradin's feet unknowingly carried himself into the living are. Derik eyes drifted to a particular shelf on the entertainment wall. He opened the glass door, moving the books inside out of the way. Hidden behind them were a couple of bottles of alcohol. Alcohol was not forbidden for students to possess or even consume, but it was frowned on a little to have them at the academy. 

But that was not why he hid them.

He reached in, retrieving an all too familiar bottle. Rectangular shaped with a diamond shaped stopper. Green liquid sloshed inside. Aldebaran Whiskey. Tehren’s favorite. Derik hadn’t had many opportunities to drink with his younger brother before his untimely passing, but he always kept a bottle somewhere in his quarters. He’d developed a love for the stuff along with Tehren, something they both shared when Derik would come home from his long journeys. They would talk and drink and sit around a fire out in the forest, reminiscing about good times. It helped to remind him that even when pain seems to overcome you, there is always a horizon to look forward to. And when the pain was too much to bear, he’d drink a glass and remember the smile that always greeted when he came home. The only smile he truly looked forward to every time he returned to the place of his birth. The only one he devoted the time to write home to on a regular basis.

What would his brother think of him after tonight?

He’d probably be terribly disappointed with you.

Of all the things that ground at his psyche this night, that one stung the most in the end. It had been Tehren’s dream to join Starfleet, a dream that Derik had adopted in his honor and vowed to fulfill. A dream he had shattered like glass shot with an ancient gun. No not shot. Crushed. Buried in rubble. Just as half of Zelthus had been. Many a night by that campfire Tehren had talked about his dreams and aspirations for joining Starfleet. He’d wanted to join an expeditionary team, to seek out new peoples and places, to make first contact, to make his brother both proud and jealous. He’d always talked about hiring Derik as his pilot so they could travel together.

I’m so sorry little brother. I failed you. I broke my promise.

The man’s hand shook a little as he poured himself a shallow glass. The green liquid sloshed within the clear confines, Derik’s reflection staring back at him. He sat there looking at himself, his face mirroring just how drained he felt, just how shattered he was.

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #12 – November 27, 2019, 04:43:58 PM

 [Cadet Elro Kobol | Starfleet Academy Grounds | San Francisco, Earth | 2377] @Argyros

Elro considered that he hadn’t quite thought through his intentions, only arriving at such a conclusion when he had both left the holodeck and made brisk pace to the quarters as listed upon the back of the PADD clutched to his chest. He had just walked. It was easy to focus on the sounds of the air around him, or the feeling of his medical kit rubbing against his fingertips as he carried the hefty case. It was easy to fail to acknowledge that returning the PADD to the Trill would not be such an easy or uneventful undertaking.

As he stood outside the designated door, he realised the dilemma all too keenly.

He wasn’t sure what he had assumed he would do… Knock at the door and wordlessly hand the PADD back to the sweaty man, leaving silently without need for dialogue? It was hardly an excelsior idea. Behaving like that would hardly make the situation any more desirable than it currently was; it would only serve to further agitate the Trill’s expected hysteria. Elro lightly sighed in reservation as he contemplated his options.

Elro was extremely literate. But to force himself into the lengthy conversation that would no doubt emerge as a result of the incident in the holodeck, was far beyond his comfort zone. He couldn’t begin to fathom how to talk about those sort of topics, intimacy was foregin to him beyond belief… How could he reassure the Trill that he was not going to report the man for forcing him to the holodeck floor and kissing him, when he felt violated by it…

‘Checking him out’. Elro had hardly done anything of the sort… He glowered to himself as he replayed the events in his head. The Trill was infuriating, far too impulsive for his own good, apparently. But also remorseful, and Elro had extended his telepathy enough to know that the Trill’s accidental forcefulness was not an intentional assault. The Betazoid once again wished that more species were telepathic; it would largely eradicate such uncomfortable mistakes from existence.

The Betazoid felt flustered, his options to be either condemning a man to a considerable amount of inner turmoil, or to condemn himself to the same fate. Not that the Trill didn’t deserve a scolding for such a blunder… He huffed slightly to himself, moving his arm up and running his hand through his hair on instinct, accidentally knocking his medical case against the doorframe several times.

Then he panicked and dropped the kit altogether. It wasn’t to say that Elro was a clumsy individual, however, when so far removed from his comfort zones of medicine and triage, he had a habit of allowing himself to become overly-startled by the smallest of errors. He dropped the PADD shortly after.

His eyes were on the floor as he heard the sound of the door open, the Betazoid’s muscular form hunched over as he scrambled upon the carpet on all fours, in desperate attempt to gather up the items before he’d been discovered.

Of course, he did not achieve such a goal. And now, the situation would only prove to be more difficult. Internally, he screeched at his own misfortune. Externally, he stayed silent, and still.

It was not a well-thought plan.

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #13 – March 17, 2020, 04:41:22 AM

[ Cadet Derik Veradin | Starfleet Academy Grounds I San Francisco, Earth I 2377 ] Attn: @TWilkins
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The Trill sat there, having condemned himself to a stain on his character, a nightmare that would not only prevent him from staying in Starfleet, but would haunt him for the rest of his life. Engrossed in his own self-wallowing, he almost missed the faint taps against the door to his apartment. He stood and strode across the room intent to find out who might be standing outside. I really hope this isn’t some friend wanting to hang out. No. Not a friend. Starfleet Security. That would have just been the final nail in his coffin. Turned in already. Not even one last night at the Academy as a student.

Yet nobody announced themselves from outside. No call came. No orders to open the door.  Derik was…confused. He stood just opposite the door, listening for anyone talking outside. Nothing. Just as he was beginning to think he had been imagining the whole thing given his state of mind, there was a rather loud clattering of something hitting the floor right outside. As the Trill reached for the door controls, intent on finding out who was outside, another something hit the floor. He took two deep breaths and pressed the activation switch.

What did he find waiting for him? Insanity. Insanity in the form of the man he’d assaulted on the floor. Elro Kobol  had dropped his medical kit and a PADD? No. Not his PADD. Derik’s PADD. The dumbass that he was had left it behind in his rush to get out of that holodeck, basically leaving a map right to his home. His Grade A fuckup was just getting worse and worse by the second.

One thing started nagging at Derik though: If Elro was here because he had turned in the Trill, then why was he not surrounded by security and why did he have Derik’s PADD with him? It surely couldn’t be because he had intended on returning it right? Veradin suddenly felt VERY underdressed. He did his best to ignore it. The more attention he drew to it the worse the situation might turn out. Instead he re-wrapped his towel around his waist to cover up and crouched down.

The cadet reached out for his PADD on the floor, which apparently was Elro’s plan too as they grabbed the device at the same time.  The man inevitably looked up, their eyes meeting, faces a mere foot apart. They sat there, looking at each other for what felt like ages. Kobol  had that panicked look on his face again, which only made Veradin more uncomfortable, but something had to be done. Someone, somewhere, in whatever great beyond existed was giving him an opportunity to apologize, to maybe repair a little of the damage that had already been done.

Thus Derik ended up being the first to speak. His voice was horse, having not taken a single sip of the Aldebaran Whiskey he’d left inside. “I…I’m sorry for earlier.” It was perhaps a simplistic statement, but it was honest. “Come inside will you? I…” Derik looked down both sides of the hall, “…would rather not make any sort of scene out where anybody could walk by. Least let me pour you a drink for bringing my PADD back.” The Trill stood up, easily taking the PADD from Elro’s loose grip, turn and went back inside, tapping the controls on the way in so the door wouldn’t close until Kobol  either walked away or came in. He walked back to the bar slowly, not making any really sudden moves, back to the door. He really hoped the Betazoid would actually come in so he could explain himself but a part of him knew it was a long shot.

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #14 – March 18, 2020, 12:04:54 PM

[ Cadet Elro Kobol | Starfleet Academy Grounds | San Francisco, Earth | 2377] @Argyros

Elro certainly felt more at ease staring into the confines of an Andorian’s chest cavity than he was staring into the similarly coloured eyes of the Trill crouched before him. The Betazoid’s hand was upon the PADD he’d just dropped, fingers resting on the cool surface of the device only a few inches away from the digits of the hotblooded Trill, an unusual tug of war that bore no effort from either side. Elro felt his nerves light afire and panic begin to bubble through his arteries... As his eyes shifted away from the overpowering stare, he found himself staring at an even less comfortable sight; the Trill himself was clad in no more than a towel and a few droplets of water, Elro immediately averting his eyes to somewhere above the Trill’s hairline, as to not be accused of ‘checking him out’ once again...

At least the Trill was freshly washed this time. The Betazoid supposed that that was a small comfort.

But the situation his eyes were witness to, was not the only cause of the Betazoid’s sense of panic. Within the confines of his mind, his paracortex found itself aflood with a sweltering barrel of emotion, one that eked across his senses like a dour draft within his head... The man did not need to pry deeper into the Trill’s head to establish that the anxiety within it was a symptom of the evening’s earlier activities. It was only natural that a man in his situation would assume to be on the receiving end of a formal expulsion. Perhaps the Trill thought Elro had arrived to gloat? Or blackmail? As uncomfortable as the concept made him, he supposed non-empathic species might see profit in the idea...

But the man spoke with a sandy voice, drawing Elro out of his own head, muttering a stammered apology that the Betazoid verified as honest… He then invited the Betazoid inside for a drink, something that Elro was not especially keen on partaking in... He didn't expect the Trill to repeat his same mistake once again, yet alcohol did not best agree with the sensitivity of his paracortex... Unfortunately, the Trill did not offer much of a chance for the Betazoid to politely rebuke his offer. Instead, the man stood and tugged the PADD loose from the Betazoid’s grip, tapping the controls to his door and walking back into the room without a second look.

Elro swallowed a mouthful of nervousness, now keenly aware that leaving would only further agitate the Trill’s bubbling anxiety. He didn’t exactly enjoy the thought of being the cause of such turmoil, perhaps even less than he enjoyed the thought of having to make conversation about a topic so gravely uncomfortable… The Betazoid ran a hand down across his face, sighing as he realised that he’d have to choose the lesser of the two evils, simply on an obligatory ethical standpoint, and took a begrudging step forwards into the Trill’s room.

“I understand that this evening was an honest mistake…” Elro spoke with a gravely dryness to his tone. “Whilst I can hardly condone your belligerence, I won’t be reporting you for a simple matter of misunderstanding…” The Betazoid continued, loitering awkwardly in the precipice of the doorway, uncomfortable with the thought of entering further, and ethically obliged not to leave the trill to stew.

“Thankfully, my telepathy can corroborate your story, but I’d suggest you temper your hormones in the future…” He awkwardly explained, his brow performing a complex choreography of waggles and raises as he struggled through what he was attempting to say. “Not every species would take this situation so lightly…”

A blatant lie leaving his mouth, one he was shamefully non-acknowledging of. Elro had not taken the situation in any resemblance of anything remotely light, in fact, he'd not even taken the situation on a basis that one could describe as 'medium'… He was in an undignified state of internal panic, his face was flustered, hot and warm, his hands felt clammy and he was certainly sweating under his layers of clothing… He refused to meet eye contact with the other man and simply let his gaze drift out into the ambient space of the room. It was far easier than having to put up with the man's gaze along with the rest...

Elro’s bedside manner lingered when he was in control. In a clinical environment, he knew the information or how to get it, he felt comfortable.

And his current circumstance was about as far from comfortable as the Betazoid believed he could get...

Re: [2377/Starfleet Academy] Eleven Minutes Late

Reply #15 – June 26, 2020, 08:23:50 AM

[ Cadet Derik Veradin | Starfleet Academy Grounds I San Francisco, Earth I 2377 ] Attn: @TWilkins 
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The Cadet breathed a sigh of relief when Elro told him he wouldn’t be reported. All that setting himself up for the reality of leaving Starfleet had been for nothing. It did however leave Derik….confused? Yea that was about right, having not expected this outcome. The Betazoid’s choice of words were perhaps not the best decision, but Derik kept that to himself. He was just glad he was getting the chance to sincerely apologize for the incident. That being said, it was obvious Elro was in his head, watching every emotion play out like tiny flashes of light as they came and went. It rang a little like an invasion of privacy, but again he let it slide. Better to just honestly let it play out so Elro wouldn’t think he was trying to deceive him. 

Taking a deep breath, he let the frustration roll off him, releasing it before it could bother him anymore. He wasn’t really sure it was possible to “tame” one’s hormones. Perhaps the Cadet merely meant he needed to have better self-control. In some ways he was right. Derik had jumped the gun with his assumptions. In some ways he was wrong tough. Being surprised didn’t mean one couldn’t communicate. He could have asked Derik to stop at any time.
”I….I’ll try to keep that in mind.” He finally responded. There weren’t a whole lot of things the Trill could say. The Betazoid was right. It could have been worse. If he’d done what he did to say a Klingon, he’d either be mating with them right now or more likely he’d have been dead. An Andorian he’d just be plain dead. It was said that Hindsight is 20/20. Quite frankly it was very true. Derik had gotten lucky. Extremely so. He wasn’t going to get expelled. He had a future. Most of all he hadn’t let his late brother down.

Another deep breath right before downing half his drink. The liquid burned profusely on it’s way down, warming what was becoming a cold torso in the cool room. From what he could see of Kobol , the man was just as uncomfortable as the Trill was. He could imagine why. The cadet had come to Derik’s apartment to return his PADD, probably having intended not to speak with him at all. Or possibly to have just sent a message at some point later. Instead he had been caught outside, and pushed into somewhat of a awkward corner with being asked to come inside.

So then how best to resolve this? How best to put the issue to rest? Derik thought and thought about it, the silence between them dragging on for a minute or two while he processed what he needed to say. ”Even if you aren’t going to turn me in,” the Trill started, voice low but steady, ”which I cannot possibly express how much I appreciate, I still want to say I’m sorry. I misinterpreted indications of what was going on and acted badly, without forethought or consideration. It was wrong of me to act on assumptions based on faulty information. I am deeply thankful that you have chosen to let the incident go. It takes a kind heart to relinquish and event that would have gotten me ultimately expelled.” Derik took a breath. ”I honestly believed that you were simply playing hard to get. That your confidence in yourself and how you displayed it was to keep me interested. I allowed my emotions to dictate my actions which lead to a disaster. I can’t make up for that, but at least I can explain why I did the things I did. I do regret my actions, even if my current appearance might suggest otherwise.”

He hadn’t really thought about the fact that he must’ve appeared to only be wearing a towel and how that might affect the Betazoid given the setting they were in. He genuinely hoped it wouldn’t put the man too off. ”Given all that, if you ever feel like giving me a chance to make amends, I’d jump at the chance. I wouldn’t want our misunderstanding to sour your time here at the academy.”

- FIN