Wenn Cinn (KIA)

Personnel File
Name:	Wenn Cinn
Rank:	Lt Cmdr
Species:	Bajoran
Age:	42
Gender:	Male
Birthplace:	Bajor
Height:	6’ 2” / 1.89m
Weight:	16 st / 101.61
Hair:	Black (when he lets it grow)
Eye color:	Brown
Interests
Religion Martial arts
Education
Service Record
Decorations

Background Story

Being born and growing up on an occupied world would never have been easy for anyone and the Wenn family certainly had not planned to subject a child to the horrors of a war but accidents happen, or perhaps it was the Prophets meddling in the lives of their children. Mara and Jole were simple, rural farmers and had two other children already in their 20’s when Mara found herself with child once more.

Cinn was born in 2339, a full 30 years before the Occupation would end. He grew up seeing pain and suffering as ‘normal’, believing that his people were indeed lower and deserved everything they got for whatever reason the Cardassians had decided on that day. He knew of the Resistance movement, accompanying his father on trips into the city of Lasuma where clashes between the Cardassians and the Resistance would often flare up.

It was only when his mother was taken on charges he knew were lies he realised that the occupying force were not superior in any way and they were lying to the Bajoran people about a great many things. He had been naïve, living in the countryside where the Occupation had only made relatively small dents on his life. At the age of 14 he left home and joined the Resistance in order to try and save his mother. He was little more than a gofer at first but his determination and quiet control led to his being noticed and encouraged. He had always been strong, working on the farm to help his aging parents had meant he always stood stockier than most of his peers, the Resistance used this to their advantage and he was soon learning combat techniques that would capitalise on his strength.

His first important mission was to blow up a guard tower in a prison compound, he was one of a number of agents who were to place strategic explosives and then help any escaping prisoners to safety. Cinn’s 20th birthday had passed not two days before without celebration, there had been a crackdown in the area of his cell in which a number of his comrades had been killed. Revenge was firmly on the minds of those selected that day.

Everything had gone to plan, the charges had been set and in the dim morning light the team had sat back and waited. It had been a glorious sight to watch those towers come down, flashes of light followed by the boom and the slow tilt and drop of the huge structures. Alarms blared and he watched as a team headed into the compound. Within minutes a small group of people ran out, heading to the waiting agents before vanishing to safety. More minutes passed and another small group headed in his direction. At the head of the group was an older woman whom he recognised instantly, even in the low light. His mother had been held here all that time. Behind her stood a Spoonhead, hidden in the group. Rage filled him and stepping forward he grabbed the soldier who had infiltrated the escaping Bajorans in order to discover the location of the Resistance. It was a tough neck to break but the snap of bone and tendon felt good, the sound seemed to echo through the area. He stepped to the frightened group as the body collapsed, still twitching, to the ground and took them to safety.

His joy at his mother’s return was short-lived however, the oppressive regime in the prison had taken its toll on her. They had a week together before she passed. He took solace in that she had died free of the shackles the Cardassians had imposed and swore he would continue to fight on.

Five years later Cinn still fought as hard for the Resistance as he had on the first day he had joined them. Passionate about the cause yet quiet and reserved, never saying anything unnecessary and preferring to train rather than relax in the few downtimes they had. His persistence and dedication had led him to becoming a very muscular man yet it did not interfere with his feline grace.

From the first hands-on kill of a Cardassian he had made to this point he had marked his body, a grotesque tally to demonstrate his survival despite the odds. The marks were hidden, not visible to anyone who merely glanced at him even when devoid of clothing. They were his personal reminders of the lives he had taken in this conflict to free his home from the oppressive regime it was suffering under.

It was at this time things changed dramatically. The next mission he went on he was to infiltrate and assassinate a key member of the puppet government. He did not relish the thought of killing a fellow Bajoran even if they were a greedy collaborator who had grown rich as the people had suffered. He would take no joy in this but he would ensure the point was made and made well. Late one night he slipped into the compound where the politician stayed, made it all the way to his bedroom and up to the bed when he realised it had been a trap. Someone within the cell had betrayed them. On the bed sat a Cardassian, armed and smiling, but he did not shoot. Instead another approached him from behind and sliced into his neck with a blade. Cinn fought back, taking out his attacker before the blast from the first one stunned him.

Cinn was to be made an example of and was paraded, humiliated and degraded in front of a crowd of his people. The raw wound on his neck had been tended to only in that it was prevented from becoming infected but it was not treated. As he was beaten the wound would reopen, bleeding more, never properly healing. He was dragged out and shoved to his knees, the light seemed bright after spending his time in the dark for nearly a month. The Cardassian in charge spoke of how Cinn was a traitor to his people and a danger to their safety but how he would show mercy and not simply have him executed. Cinn was to be shipped offworld, sent to a prison camp on another planet where he could be rehabilitated and become a productive member of society once more.

This was a lie, Cinn had no doubt. He would be shipped off but to a prison world where he would be some entertainment for the guards in pit fights or be forced to work in some dangerous mine. It did signal some hope however, perhaps with this spoonhead showing ‘mercy’ they were beginning to lost the war for Bajor and looking to save their skins when they finally got overthrown.

He was shipped out the next day, bound, blindfolded and gagged in the back of a ship like a dangerous animal being smuggled from its homeworld. In a way it was true for if he had found even the slightest means of escape the ship would have been the tomb of many a spoonhead piece of scum.

Cinn didn’t know how long he had been there or how long they had left to go when the explosion happened. Whatever it was that had blown shut down all but the emergency power, he couldn’t hear the thrumming of the engines any more. The next thing he knew there were shouts and someone tried to move him. He planted his feet and refused to budge which was rewarded by a sickening punch to the gut but he still did not move. There were other voices coming closer and they didn’t sound Cardassian in origin. Again someone tried to shift him and again he leaned into the shove and prevented any movement at all.

The light was blinding as the blindfold was removed, going from a blackout to a whiteout in a moment. The gag was also removed and he slowly moved his jaw to loosen the tight muscles that had protested at being held in such a manner for so long. As his vision returned slowly he saw an unfamiliar species wearing an equally unfamiliar uniform. She introduced herself as the First Officer of a Federation starship and that he was being taken to safety and to not cause any trouble.

The cuffs had been left on, a wise precaution he agreed, but as he passed the line of Cardassians under guard he could not help himself but head-butt one of them. He laughed as he was led away wondering exactly who was now safe from whom.

The rest, as they say, is history. Unable to return home and re-join the fight he joined Starfleet a year later, entering the Security branch for obvious reasons. He learned new martial arts and taught the combat style he had learned during his time with the Resistance movement. He spent time on starships mostly, hoping to one day be in the neighbourhood of Bajor. The USS Crazy Horse, the USS Agamemnon and the USS Tycho were the three he had spent the majority of his commission aboard before being transferred to the USS Theurgy as Chief of Security.

Life aboard the Theurgy was certainly different. A hologram avatar for the computer who would appear whenever she wished to. Cinn often wondered if it was her way of testing his reflexes. The Captain who would appear randomly as male or female which had initially confused the hell out of him until, as these things do, they became normal. The crew were not exceptionally disorderly, just the usual level of conflict associated with being cooped up on a ship together with no chance of respite.

Things only turned ugly when the revelation regarding the imposters within Starfleet came to light. He had been onside instantly, the situation needed to be dealt with in any way possible and it became clear all too quickly that they would only be able to do this from outside the Federation and on the run. It reminded him of being back in the Resistance, a fight for freedom and justice from another race that wanted to take over everything that was precious to him.

It had been on this flight from the fleet that the Theurgy had come under attack. Cinn had been doing his job, helping where he could and evacuating the damaged deck 3 when the hull had given in under the assault. He recalled hearing his Andorian subordinate’s shout as he was dragged backwards and out into the void and then nothing.

Then he was back on the Theurgy, at least it looked like the Theurgy only… fuzzier and yet brighter. He was standing on the bridge, not a completely unusual occurrence. A hand was placed on his shoulder and Jien, the male version, smiled as he walked past and sat in his chair. Others appeared, colleagues both old and new, family, friends. A dozen people in total all surrounding him on the bridge of the ship he worked on… no wait… he got sucked out into space. Was this what death was like? Surely not since so many people he knew to be alive were there still.

They began to speak, each taking a turn to tell him how he wasn’t done yet. They had plans for him and he would not be allowed to rest until he had helped rid the Federation of the blackness at the core. He knew then who they were and he bowed deeply to thank them. As he closed his eyes a flash of white light surrounded him that could be seen through his closed lids.

The shuddering gasp burned his lungs as though he was taking his first breath. Sitting up he bumped his head, raising his hands he pressed against a solid surface. There was no room to move, he had to get out of this. With a grunt and strained hiss he pushed the surface away. As it shifted and he was able to sit up he realised he was in a stasis chamber, one that had stopped working. Looking around he realised he was on board a Federation starship but it wasn’t his. Cinn slipped out of the chamber and to the door that hissed open and let him out.

His first and only thought was escape without being caught. He had to get to a shuttle and get out, back to the Theurgy.

Personality Profile

A generally calm and reserved individual. Deeply religious and honours the celebration days as best he can in the circumstances. Slow to anger but woe betide anyone who manages it.

Physical Profile

Tall and muscular yet graceful. Built like a tank.