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Post by Andrew Rice on Jun 10, 2019 17:17:10 GMT
Old Friends With Tom as Marsland and Aoibhe as Danann
<Danann> ::Danann appears on the transporter pad. Her hair is as wild as always but now contains a few, stray grey streaks among the mass of red curls. Her clothes are straight out of a space pirate catalogue; sturdy, brown, scuffed kneehigh boots; tight pants a shade lighter than her boots; two low slung holsters, one resting on her right hip and the other strapped to her left thigh, both empty; and a loose fitting, light-coloured, half buttoned shirt under a rough, peat-brown targ-skin leather jacket. She hefts a burlap satchel and hops enthusiastically off the transporter pad with a flash of a smile at Marsland:: CO: You, eh... put on weight Tom? <CTO> ::Soule's eye fixates, then follows Danann as she steps off the pad, and he remains silent as she addresses the captain.:: <CO> ::Tom smiles at Danann, but she can tell there's deeper feelings behind the smile, deeper feelings that are consciously being suppressed:: Niamh: Glad to see you, Niamh. And yeah, comes with the command, ya know. But just a little. <Danann> ::Danann laughs a little nervously and smiles at her old friend:: CO: It suits you. ::Her attention snags on Marsland's security detail as she scans the room:: CTO: Hey, Blondie... :: she shifts the weight of her satchel:: CTO: Long time... <CTO> ::Soule stared at her for a moment, looking her up and down as he scanned her person for any obvious weapons, with a blank emotionless expression on his face; only aided by the eyepatch.:: Niamh: Irish... ::He blinked.:: Niamh: And yes, the last time you came by... you didn't write, you didn't call... but we did have to bury a captain. <Danann> ::Danann's face flashes with momentary, indignant surprise, as her back stiffens and her green eyes fix on the Tactical officer:: CTO: Maybe look after this one a little better, yea? ::she steps forward, towards Tom.:: <CTO> ::Grumbles under his breath.:: Self: Cuz the example you set in that department was always stellar, wasn't it.... <Danann> ::Niamh tenses up, her right hand reaching instantly for the disruptor on her hip. Her fingers grasp at nothing, both her energy weapons having been removed in transport.:: <CTO> ::Soule fought a smirk, as he calmly watched her reach for the weapon that wasn't there.:: Niamh: But we're not here to catch up, and talk about the glory days of yonder year, are we? ::He shifted his sight from her to the captain, nodding, and deferring to his commanding officer.:: <CO> Niamh: I think there will be a little bit of time for catching up, and a lot for dealing with the current issues at hand, don't you? ::Tom shifted on his feet, growing a bit impatient:: All: Let's get down to business, before the tension in this room becomes deafening. What's the deal with my .. prisoner? <Danann> CO: So, that's how it is. :: hides her disappointment badly. Had expected him to come to her defence, but...:: CO: ... "Transporter Room Diplomacy" it is, then. Guess this is as far as I get to go on your nice, clean Federation carpets... fine. ::She squares her feet, bites her lip and pulls her satchel off her shoulder:: CO: Messages from my crew to their loved ones on your side of the border. ::she pulls a Cardassian data rod out of her bag and tossed it through the void between her and Marsland:: CO: Just cause they've left the Fed' doesn't mean they don't miss home. I assume you won't mind passing these on to the relevant people. :: she stares at him for a moment, then blinks:: ALL: Ezia is a thorn in my side. She's a chaotic, psychotic lynch pin in my rival's plans to win back territory that I've taken from her. ::she pinches the bridge of her nose:: ALL: It's complicated. <CO> ::frowns:: Niamh: That's not what I meant. ::turns to the CTO:: CTO: Let's head up to my quarters, Commander. ::when everyone is ready, turns to head that direction:: Niamh: You know I don't like to mix business and pleasure, Niamh. And if it hadn't been you on the other side of those communiques, I wouldn't be here. ::enters his quarters with Niamh and the CTO after a short walk:: Niamh: Ezia has asked me for asylum. She says you'll kill her if I turn her over. And that the Maquis hired her to steal this artifact from Betazed. <Danann> ::ignores the mention of killing Ezia and her asylum request, for now:: CO: Someone very well may have hired her to steal it, or ordered her. Probably Loren Dell. Anything to destabilize the relationship between Maquis and Federation further. Anything to screw with me. Succeed or fail, Starfleet becomes more hostile and her mission is accomplished. ::Has a look around Tom's quarters.:: CO: Swish. Sure beats my first Captaincy. ::throws her satchel on a small love seat and shrugs off her jacket, revealing heavily inked arms beneath. A black, knotted, Celtic serpent features heavily down her right arm. She tosses the jacket at CTO:: CTO: Make yourself useful and hang that up. <CTO> ::Instinctively reacts to something being thrown at him, by back handing it with his left hand, before he even really realises what is being thrown. Squints his eye at the redhead, as the jacket crumples onto the floor.:: ::Keeps his sight locked on Niamh for a moment; knowing full well that if the captain wasn't there, the conversation would be much louder and shoutier already. Before slowing reaching down to pick the coat up.:: CO: Where does this go, sir? ::He looks around the room, searching for a coathanger or something to put it on. Something flashes in his head though, and he glances back to Danann then to the coat. He doesn't act on the thought yet, waiting for the captain to respond first.:: <CO> ::sighs slightly:: CTO: Just lay it on the bed. ::takes a seat on the couch next to the window, glancing out at the planet below:: Niamh: She was pretty sure you'd kill her, Nia... which.. well, I wouldn't necessarily put past you if someone truly crossed you, truly put your crew at risk. ::grins:: Niamh: Nia, I know how feisty you can be. I remember those Academy days. ::thumbs the data rod in his pocket, pulls it out and grabs a terminal. Plugs it in to see its contents:: <Danann> ::Danann watches Douglas disappear towards the bedroom with satisfaction as she listens to Marsland speak.:: CO: I'm no killer, Tom. :: softly:: CO: Doesn't mean I don't fantasize about wringing her neck with my bare hands till her lips go blue... but. :: she glances towards the bedroom, checking the coast was clear, and swiftly sits on the couch beside her old friend. She perches sideways, inches away from him, her right leg bent under her and her right arm draped over the back rest. When she speaks, her tone is softer, more familiar to Tom:: CO: Look, there's more to this than I can explain in company. :: She leans in, conspiratorially:: CO: I've set some things in motion, but if I've got people on your ship, you can be sure as shit Loren Dell does too. If we find time alone, :: she glances in the direction Soule had gone and rests an emphasising hand on Tom's upper arm:: CO: ...properly alone, I'll explain, but if not... talk to Sara Sumner, ok? ::her breath catches in her throat as her nerves threaten to overcome her. :: ACTION: The terminal begins deciphering the data rod, converting its Cardassian code into Federation standard. Slowly video and audio file icons begin to appear on the screen, each showing a different Maquis face in front of different bulkheads and backgrounds. There are one or two familiar, former Starfleet officers in the mix. <CO> ::Tom glances at the terminal, seeing the videos. Makes a note to look at it further, time permitting:: Niamh: Sounds like I should make some 'properly alone' time, so you can tell me more, Nia.. ::he reaches out, placing his left hand on top of her hand on his upper arm, leaning in and making close eye contact:: Niamh: I'm curious as to what things you've set in motion, but really, we have to keep the Federation - Maquis relationship going. There's no reason for violence. <Danann> ::Danann breathes a sigh of relief:: CO: Good, then I'll- ::spots Douglas reenter the room:: <CO> ::straightens up:: Niamh: So what are we doing with Ezia? <Danann> :: doesn't take her hand off Tom's arm. Smirks at CTO:: CO: You hand her over and get the hell out of here. If i knew you had her you can be sure I'm not the only one who knows. <CO> Niamh: I need more answers first, Nia. She asked for asylum. What are you planning? <CTO> ::Just sighs as he notes the pair; walking back in from disposing of the jacket on the bed. Before he did so however, he did a brief examination of it, patting it down, looking over the stitching and wear, finally sniffing it; which he knew would have certainly looked strange. He had thought it might smell of the perfume Ezia was wearing, and had hoped to catch Niamh in a lie about their association, but it merely smelt of leather, minor burns, and booze.:: ::Starts wondering exactly what game she's playing, and as he stares at her; he sees someone else for a fleeting moment. He shakes his head and clears his eye, muttering to himself under his breath.:: Self: I cannot unsee that. This is like déjà vu... ::Straightens up and just hovers around.:: All: Oh don't mind me, by the way. <CO> ::nods absently at the CTO, his mind on everything else at the moment - his friend who he’s known since the Academy, Marquis factions on his ship, the touch on his arm as he awaited her response:: <Danann> CO: What would you do if one of your crew took her instructions from a rival, then went AWOL, crossed a border she was ordered not to, interfered directly in the politics of an unrelated world and tried to convince a superpower to grant her asylum using a bullshit excuse like that? ALL: What she did was dangerous, intentionally reckless and destabilising, you must see that. ::Danann blinks and sits back a little, her hand slipping slowly from Marsland's arm:: CTO: I barely tolerated your insubordination when you served under me, I'm sure as hell not gonna tolerate hers now. <CO> ::looks into Niamh’s eyes:: Niamh: And the Starfleet in you says I do what with the asylum request? <Danann> ::Her breath catches in her throat:: CO: The "Starfleet" in me? Starfleet took my lover, my child, ::her hand crossed her body and idly scratched at a round, pitted scar on the side of her neck; the remnants of the venomous, Vendorian attack she'd suffered while she was NAV of the Hyperion that had left her with a chemical dependency she'd struggled to break.:: CO: ...my self control and my will power, then Starfleet took away my Captain... ::eyes flick to glare at Douglas:: CO: I gave Starfleet everything I had and it took everything I loved away from me... I stopped listening to the "Starfleet" part of myself a long, long time ago. ::she stands up:: CO: Look, Tom, the decision is yours to make, but time is ticking, yea? Either you hand her over willingly, or we're in for a far more interesting reunion than either of us expected. <CTO> Niamh: Oh my god. Last time I checked, your lover was still in Starfleet, and is still a perpetual fucking prick. The Breen 'took away' Rome, during a battle, lemme think, oh yeah, so civilians wouldn't end up as slaves. And as for your daughter.... ::Soule spoke softer a little.:: She was killed by a lying, scheming, murdering terrorist... and to get over it you... Niamh: You became a lying scheming murdering terrorist. <CO> ::glances at his CTO:: CTO: Enough. ::Stands, his voice still quiet, but the seriousness present:: Niamh: Nia, I’m afraid that you’re only fooling yourself. You’ve made Starfleet something to be angry at when that’s not the true cause. That said, you’re right. It is my decision to make. <Danann> ::balls and relaxes her fists over and over as she glares, almost quivering in fury, at Douglas. Anger was easier to feel than grief. Speaks to Tom, keeping her eyes trained on Douglas:: CO: You are holding a member of my crew. You are in my space. You are surrounded by my people in my ships... you have an hour to decide how you wanna do this... ::turns towards the exit:: CO: And next time, put a muzzle on him. <CTO> Niamh: Oh, suddenly you don't like hearing the truth. That you've become just like Adria... <Danann> ::freezes with her hand hovering over the door release. Speaks with a deathly calm:: CTO: Adria didn't hurt me, you gigantic piece of shit. It was the Starfleet rescue attempt that did the damage. :: drops her hand to her side and slowly turns back:; CTO: and afterwards, after Tony had left, after the shock had worn off, after you'd all told me you'd be there when I needed you... and then when I needed you all so badly I could barely think straight, where were any of you? CTO: You wanna compare me to the one, single person who didn't, actually hurt me? You wanna make this personal? Fine. But I'd hate to see any more innocent children get hurt because some overzealous Starfleet officer didn't know when to stop fucking pushing it. <CO> ALL: I said enough! You are on my ship, Niamh. Don’t forget that. Our friendship goes way beyond this issue. ::turns to the CTO:: CTO: I know you all have a past, but let’s focus on the future. Nia, you and I need to talk more, preferably over a few drinks, but after this whole thing is done with. You should get back to your people. <CTO> CO: Unless you make it an order, sir; I'm not just gonna leave you alone with her. We've had a captain like that, he was stabbed in the throat on his first mission. CO: And honestly sir... If I leave, Jo will be down here in five minutes. <CO> ::grabs Niamh’s jacket and bag and tosses them back to her:: CTO: No. Escort Captain Danann back to the transporter room. I’m heading to Sickbay to talk to our guest. Niamh: I’ll let you know my decision within your requested timeframe. Good to see you again, Nia. ::reaches out for a hug, but then stops, awkwardly waiting:: <CTO> ::Nods, not taking his eye off Danann.:: CO: Gladly. <Danann> CO: Thank you. You're right. I should get back to my people. ::considers his offer, her eyes fixed on his welcoming arms, but thinks better of it. Now is not the time or place.:: CO: I'll await your call... then, maybe drinks. CTO: Let's go, Blondie. Haven't got all day. :: hefts her jacket over her bare shoulder, thumbs the exit control and ploughs her way back the way she'd come. :: <CTO> ::Sighs, before charging after her, and leaving the captain alone in his quarters.:: (Admin edited for clarity)
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Post by Andrew Rice on Apr 13, 2020 6:27:06 GMT
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Post by Andrew Rice on Apr 13, 2020 8:14:52 GMT
Changing Faces
(With Paul as Captain Oktan)
The Vidiian ship had corrected its erratic swerve towards Zorya almost immediately after its boarding party had made it aboard. It was now keeping a healthy distance away from the Starfleet vessel; backing off while still maintaining formation. It wasn't exactly the behaviour you'd expect from an overt aggressor which their actions would indicate only a few moments ago. Soule rose up from the captain’s chair, brushing his hand through Arun’s wispy golden hair, and planting a kiss on his forehead; before he worked the sling off his shoulder, and placing the baby down in the first officer’s seat. “You stay right there, my little lion. Daddy’s gotta take his relaxed façade off for a little bit.” He turned back to face the viewscreen, and marched to the centre of the command circle. “Hail the Vidiians!” He ordered OPS calmly as he crossed his arms behind his back. Ensign T'Pan dutifully ayed and with a chime the Vidiian Captain appeared on the viewscreen. She looked stressed and harried. Her ridged brow appeared to have a light sheen of sweat over it and she did not seem aware that she was now on the comm line with Zorya as she hastily fiddled with the panel next to her. “Vidiian ship, this is Commander Douglas...” He glared over the comm; his good eye scanning over the scene of their bridge. “I can see you, you realise?!” Soule waited a moment for his voice to sink into the captain’s ears, before continuing. “I believe you have misplaced something.” His tone was still calm, but more forceful; hopeful that he finally had her attention. She visibly sighed and her attention turned to face him. It was unclear whether she had been playing dumb for time or if she genuinely hadn't realised she was on the line. "C-Commander…" she said with a note of surprise, "Where is Captain Marsland?" She made it sound almost conversational but her breathing betrayed a level of panic underneath. “He’s not currently here.” Soule replied dryly, taking two deliberate steps forward. “I have the bridge. And I thought it prudent to contact you immediately to share my deepest disappointment, and to inform you that we have neutralised your boarding party.” Soule was being mindful of his voice; subtly glancing over his shoulder, before positioning and posturing himself so the sleeping baby couldn’t be seen on the viewscreen. “To…” He sighed. “To abate your fears, they are all alive and currently in containment, under guard, and receiving treatment; both for our method of neutralisation and their pre-existing conditions.” "It… Wasn't intentional, Commander. Some of my crew, our residents, were impatient. There are supplies that we are in desperate short supply of. I can assure you they will be punished for their actions." Her own desperation was obvious. For sure the attempt on the cargo bay was sloppy. It could have been a rogue group taking action into their own hands but their ship's sudden course change told a different story. “Captain, if you had tried that on a ship from any of the other major powers of this quadrant; the Klingons, the Cardassians, the Romulans… the Breen... your ship would already dust, destined to fall into the pulsar. So I wouldn’t bullshit me.” “Your ship made blatant offensive posturing.” He narrowed his eyes. “Our weapons are vastly superior to yours, however your ship is extremely large, you could use that extra mass to knock us around, tank the damage and get in close, and use that massive complement of personnel you have as more boarding parties.” “We offered our assistance freely, and were willing to give you almost everything you asked for, some things in greater quantities than asked for.” Soule took a deep breath.“So unless I hear the truth, the supplies will stop entirely.” "It wasn't the decision of our leadership or myself, Commander, believe me." She said quickly, "Our people are not a unified group. We have been travelling for centuries, all with the goal to cure our species and even if we found a way it would take us centuries more to make it back with our warp drive… Some of our people just want our journey to end." “I can understand that, Captain. I really can.” He brought his hands from behind his back, and crossed them again around his waist. “I’ve mapped some of the damage, used what we know of your people to trace a rough route that you may have taken, and I know you are only one ship. You’ve had to do everything you can to survive, to get by day-by-day; and the history of your quest is probably littered with horrific choices.” Soule’s features softened as he spoke, before he finally paused, and they sharpened up again. “But we are not your enemy. The disease is your enemy, and we are willing to help you fight it. And we know where your homeworld is, so we may be even able to help you get there.” He sighed. “I know trust is a difficult choice…” The Captain went on. She made apologies and excuses for her people that at least sounded genuine and Soule heard her out politely. Volkova wandered over with her eyes glued to a PADD and turned her back to the viewscreen, making an act of handing Soule a duty roster. "They hit the same cargo bay that had the prohibited genetics equipment stored." Volkova whispered, "How could they know where it was? How did they even know we had biomimetic gel to ask for in the first place?" “May I ask?” He nodded at Volkova, turning back to the viewscreen. “How long have you been watching our ship? In fact, how long have you been in this region of space? You must have encountered Starfleet ships, or some Beta Quadrant powers in at least the last couple of years.” Soule cut the Captain off while she was in mid sentence and she went silent abruptly. "You're the first vessel of your people that we have seen…" she said quickly, "Though I believe a Romulan merchant made mention that we would be entering your space when we last battered for some goods. I assure you Commander, we did not plan this… If I could just speak to your Captain I'm sure we could settle this unfortunate misunderstanding…" “The captain is unavailable right now.” Soule replied, his calmness being tested. “So you can settle this with me, or we can return your people to you, and be on our way.” Something of a facade cracked behind the Captain's eyes, albeit just for a moment. Her voice remained sympathetic though with an edge that had not been there before. "My understanding, Commander, is that Dr. Kal is still required on your ship to help save the lives of some of your crew. But we would be happy to receive the rogue team that attempted the misjudged raid on your vessel." Out of sight of the screen Volkova gave Soule a glance and placed a hand on the phaser on her hip, turning towards the turbolift. Soule watched every movement on her face, his eye focusing on her features, however difficult the phage made it. “Clearly you don't have any control over your people, and such an act is a major sign of disrespect. So this will happen again, to some other unsuspecting ship; maybe next time they’ll be less well armed. I’m sure their deaths not being by your orders will be some great comfort to you.” “I think I should talk to your people, before we let them return to you.” A light smirk etched its way slowly onto Soule’s lips. “I mean, the Phage may be the driving force of your existence, but it’s not the only thing. Perhaps there’s something more behind it, more that they want than you’re telling me.” He shrugged. “Maybe they will. Tell me their side of things.” The polite if somewhat wavering smile of the Captain faded and she paused for a moment as she stared down Soule through the viewscreen. "I shall speak with our ruling council, Commander. I would ask that you return our people at your earliest convenience. Vidiian Sanctuary out…" The screen cut out and returned to the image of their ship flying alongside. Volkova walked back over to Soule, her hand still placed squarely on her phaser. "Not sure she knew how to deal with you, boss," she said, "That raid of theirs was damn sloppy though. If they knew about the genetic equipment beforehand I would have thought they would have come up with a better plan to get their hands on it." “Thank you.” He grinned gleefully, before getting serious again, staring at the viewscreen image of Sanctuary. “It had something of an undercurrent of rebellion, as for how they knew about where to find it… they did mention the Romulans, who else could they have encountered?” He looked to Volkova. “They may have traded for some sensor tech better than their own level of technology.” “And all of this was just a big ol’ Fuuuuuck you to their ruling council.” He sighed, pondering the consequences of a plague ship in rebellion. “Work with T’Pan, see if you can’t find any mentions or rumours of a strange disease cropping up, or any attacks on merchant or science ships, within 4 sectors of here. Needa find out whether they’ve done this before.” Soule walked over to the Executive seat, taking the sling hold; finding a stirring baby gurgling up at him, wrapping it back over his shoulder and looking down at his son. “The captain’s not gonna like this is he? No he is not…” He said in baby-voice and tickled his foot, sitting down in the big chair. "I'll check for any encoded outgoing transmissions too. I hate to think the worst of him but it's possible Dr. Kal may have passed on our inventory somehow after he arrived," she added as she awkwardly ignored the (baby) elephant in the room. He nodded to Elena in his normal manner, staring at her deadpan. "Dismissed." He said, and with a returned tilt of her head Volkova turned on her heel and exited the bridge.
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Post by Andrew Rice on Nov 30, 2020 0:08:15 GMT
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Post by Andrew Rice on Nov 30, 2020 0:20:42 GMT
The Price Of Freedom With Captain Marsland and Commodore Truman
It had been a full day after the Gorn retreat and the cost of Zorya’s battle was still being counted. More than half the crew had been killed and the ship was being towed back to Earth by the Odyssey, having been rendered nearly completely uninhabitable from the beating it had taken. The survivors had been taken aboard and the senior staff transferred over from the commandeered raider. Now there was nothing for them to do but try to relax on their way back home. It wasn’t something anyone on the crew was handling well. Then there was Soule. Commodore Truman had been kind enough to let him have a moment with Izzy and Arun after the couple had been reunited with their baby, but it was shortly after that he ordered one of Odyssey’s guards to escort the Commander to the Brig. He’d been left there for nearly twenty hours alone, on a charge of murdering a prisoner Soule simply sat there, quietly meditating; something he hasn’t been able to do quite so much since Arun was born. He knew what was coming, what was gonna be said, the kind of picture they were going to attempt to paint of him. He cared little for their opinions; his wife and son were safe in the decks above him, and millions of people were alive today on Cestus III that wouldn’t be tomorrow. What happened between him and S’tlath was something that, sadly, members of his own species were seemingly incapable of understanding. The fact that Odyssey was speeding away from Cestus, with thousands of enemy soldiers still dug in on its surface, was all Soule needed to know that was true. The only one who would understand, was Captain Xolon, Soule opened his eyes, at an alarming thought… What if the Gorn sought to attack the Talarians again? He jumped to his feet and walked to the forcefield. “I wanna talk to the Commodore… Now.” He barked at the security officer’s on duty. As if on the cue the doors to the brig hissed open and the Commodore strided in, closely followed by Marsland right behind him. Both looked much better than the last time Soule had seen them. A good night’s rest and a fresh uniform had that effect. “Relax, Commander. We’re here,” the Commodore said, holding his hand up as a calming gesture. Soule had relaxed too much already; if he had had his sword in hand, he would already be prepared to jump into battle again, despite the injuries still prevalent on his body. “Commodore…” He addressed him stoically, nodding, slightly turning his head to Marsland, speaking in a softer tone. “Sir.” His neck snapped back to the Truman. “We need to keep watch on the Talarian borders… The Gorn may attempt reprisal attacks, for siding with us.” He took a deep breath. “They wouldn’t dare attack the Cardassians, with their Breen and Tholian allies… and they probably won’t attack the Romulans. But the Talarians are vulnerable.” Truman stood with his hands clasped behind his back, listening politely but letting out a slightly weary sigh as Soule finished. “It’s taken care of. We already have additional ships on the border and we’re assisting them in the construction of their own tachyon detection grids,” he said matter of factly. The small talk was over, and with a relieved sigh, Soule simply crossed his arms and waited for what the Commodore had to say; noting that the Captain was still silent. Marsland furrowed his brow. The loss of the Zorya weighed heavy on his mind - the ship was a mere physical object, but the crew was so much more. In the time since they’d come aboard the Odyssey he’d spent a large amount of it with an old-fashioned ink pen and replicated paper, writing letters to the families of the crew that had been lost; this was his command, his responsibility. 500 crew, only 222 left. “What say you, Commander? You know my … our.. hands are tied with what you did. Your actions may have caused more bloodshed, Commander. They may have saved some, but I had the War Leader in custody. You killed her in cold blood.” Both Marsland and the Commodore stared through the forcefield at the caged Soule. Their disappointment and frustration was clear, but also their concern. “To have her in custody, would imply that we had any semblance of control over the situation. From the moment she declared the extermination of Cestus’ populace, we were in a state of open battle, aboard a ship we had barely any command over, with a crew of heavily wounded officers… with an enemy ship barrelling towards what was left of our home, as well as the defenceless escape pods, with our friends and families inside…” “What I did, had to be done. I wasn’t going to let her stop us from protecting them.” Soule straightened up. “And what’s more… I made a promise. In front of all the races in attendance I promised her, she would die by my hand.” “Now the other races know, we are still people of our word.” He glared at the pair, awaiting their superior moral argument. “Commander, you made a decision directly contrary to your duties as a Starfleet officer. Our oath charges us to represent the highest ideals of peace and brotherhood. The War Leader was no longer a threat to us. In fact, it was because of her, in some ways, that I was able to get off that rock with Volkova.” Marsland paced in front of Soule’s cell, frustrated with his CTO’s answer. “Your answer shows immaturity, and you know it. You went against your oath as a Starfleet officer. You put your friends and families in danger. She was a bargaining chip that you threw out like yesterday’s garbage.” The Captain’s brow furrowed, obviously in conflict himself. “Actions have consequences. Your character is commendable… normally. I can’t defend this choice, Commander. Nor am I going to try. This is on you.” Marsland looked to Truman and the Commodore took over seamlessly from where he had left off. The fact that the two of them were so united told Soule all he needed to know in regards to how much shit he was in. "All of which your Captain or I would have indicated to you had you for one small second thought to seek our input before taking actions into your own hands," Truman said, "It wasn't your call, Commander. You ignored the chain of command and undermined our authority. Now I realise we were in a uniquely stressful situation, but that is no excuse." The Commodore stepped closer to the forcefield, his voice going from authoritative to pure ice. "I'll be blunt, Commander. I don't care why you did it. But from an outside perspective, and how the admiralty will likely see it, what you did was purely for your own gratification and need for vengeance." “Of course they will.” Soule replied equally as bluntly. “Because they are incapable of understanding it.” “I remember a man once ordering me to fire on a civilian population; a Tzenkethi city. That man is now remembered by that same admiralty as a hero. And I have bore witness to the consequences of when Starfleet has decided they’re gonna turn a monster into a house pet.” He laughed, shaking his head, rubbing his chin. “What were you gonna do with her, Commodore? Pocket her away into the shadows? The same shadows that we allowed to fester and grow into Section 31, and split the Federation in half?” He continued to shake his head almost flippantly. “Maybe turn her into another Indara Dren?” “Oh, and the irony is not lost on me, that the person who would understand the most, what I did, is the person that I killed.” His eyes became serious again, looking at Truman with suspicion, as he addressed his captain. “If our word is worth nothing, sir… what is the Federation even worth?” “How can we ever hope to make a better, longer lasting peace with any of our rivals or enemies? How will we ever get them to trust us? And if we do not defend every world within our space with the same zeal as we would defend Earth, how will anyone within it believe that we can protect them? Why should any of our rivals even respect us?” Truman looked at Soule for a long moment. His eyes searching Soule’s. He looked at him with a degree of pity, before snorting in disgust and turning away from him. He walked back over to Marsland and put a comforting hand on the Captain’s shoulder for just a moment before removing it and stepping towards the back of the room, out of the way. Marsland measured his words carefully before speaking. “Our word, Commander,” he began slowly, “was tarnished today with your actions. You promised to kill her, perhaps. I took her into custody. We are not a civilization that executes its prisoners… well, until today, I suppose.” Raising his voice slightly, he continued. “What if she had given us more details on the Gorn? Their locations, how to beat their weaponry? What of the lives then?” He stepped up to the forcefield, inches away. “You talk about defending every world within our space with zeal, Douglas, but you don’t mean that. If you did, keeping her in my custody was our best defense. No… you just wanted revenge. Just admit it.” “You mean information the Commodore already miraculously possesses?” Soule stared deep into Marsland’s very soul. “Why don't you ask him… about his sudden interest in geology? Or maybe ask how a Gorn fleet was able to sneak into our space, beyond our tachyon detection grid, land an army and enslave an entire planet… all without Starfleet Intelligence once warning us. The Romulans knew, and the Cardassians.” “There is a special place in hell for betrayers…” A fire burnt in Soule’s eyes, as he slowly turned his face from the Captain, to stare at the Commodore. “And if you had anything to do with it… if you helped them in any way…” He placed his hand to the forcefield, the barrier lighting up violently, as he attempted to force his hand through. “There isn’t a corner dark enough to hide in, or a hole deep enough for you to slither into, where I wont find you…” “And if you don’t look into it, sir, then you’re a pathetic excuse for a captain; just like Jon was. You just stand there arrogantly and claim you’re better than all the races in all the galaxy, because you’re so superior. Well… I don’t collude with people who would commit genocide. Do you?” “I claim I’m equal to all the other races in the galaxy, Douglas, and that’s why I don’t kill them in cold blood. Every organization, including Starfleet, has sects, like Section 31, that started with one mission, and allowed it to twist their minds, twist their hearts… that’s when they go off the rails, like you did. There’s no arrogance here, Douglas, and you will never understand what it’s like to be a Starfleet Captain here with an attitude like this. To hold 500 lives in your hands, in your decisions. Your choice could’ve gotten more of our crew killed. And I can’t live with it.” Marsland turned his back toward Douglas with some finality. “I hope you can.” “Funny how easy it is for people like you to live with the deaths of hundreds or even thousands of enemy soldiers, when you order people like me to vaporise them, to turn their atoms into dust. No… that is cold blood; to extinguish scores of lives at the push of a button. But I suppose they're just faceless nameless peons to you, aren’t they?” Soule wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You will never understand the pain of putting a warrior down. You don't have to see their faces.” “As for my choice… My choice may very well have averted another war, a war we cannot afford. And the fact that you’re standing there trying to make me feel ashamed, proves you still know nothing and how little you truly consider other races.” “I killed the Warleader. The highest military position in the Gorn Hegemony, held by the strongest and most cunning and ruthless warrior amongst their ranks. They are a race that prides themselves on strength and power, always challenging those they consider weak, and have a society based around the clan. Well, I killed the Warleader… and the Gorn will be incensed, outraged, but not that I killed her… but that I was able to.” “And that will shatter their perception of her and themselves. Her clan will come under intense scrutiny from the others, for her failure and her death, and it will be a while before they consider us weak again.” “And whether the council deigns to have me put in prison…” His gaze fell upon Truman again. “Or someone else decides to have me killed… I know I made the right decision… Because as I said to the Cardassian… I would happily give up my life to protect that of others, and if I should feel shame for that, then it’s you who will never know what it is to be a real Starfleet Captain. And that really is something I’m ashamed of.” Marsland whirled, hurling his fist into the forcefield, right at Soule’s face. A crackling sound reverberated between them. He raised his voice, “Don’t you dare talk to me about decision-making, Commander! I fought in the Dominion War, I know what it is like to kill in cold blood, to have to live with the deaths of others on your head! I have lost many, far too many, and perhaps more because the great Commander Douglas wanted to make a name for himself amongst the Gorn! Don’t lecture me, Commander! The Gorn will learn that you killed their War Leader in cold blood, with her hands behind her back! That’s not the mark of a warrior! There’s no pride in you being able to do that! It makes you no better than the people who do it to us! There are necessary evils in war; this was not one of them. More people may have died because of you. Good luck explaining that away!” Still fuming, his fist throbbing, Marsland turned in disgust away from Chief Tactical Officer, and stormed out. As the doors shut behind Marsland, the Commodore turned back from his corner and walked slowly back towards the forcefield, shaking his head. “You’ll be with us for the debrief when we reach Earth, Douglas. For your family’s sake I’ll not restrict Dr. Rousseau from visiting you.” He looked Soule up and down, his eyes lingering on the gold of his tunic and the three pips on his collar. “Get some rest. Think long and hard about your actions. Ask yourself if this was really the man you were meant to be. And in the meantime, get the hell out of that uniform. You don’t deserve to wear it.”
With that Truman turned on the spot and followed Marsland out of the doors.
Soule stared at the Commodore as he seemed to gloat, and simply watched the pair leave. Everything in his very being screamed that Truman was up to something, and the Zorya had already paid the price of it once and so did the Storm; he might very well be another Vera Hill. Soule sat down, clasping his hands together. “The Gorn may be defeated, but the Federation is still in danger. My family are still in danger.” He looked up to the security monitors in the ceiling. “If you’re watching me somewhere… I need your help, Issac.”
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Post by Andrew Rice on May 24, 2021 9:08:24 GMT
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Post by Andrew Rice on May 24, 2021 9:17:38 GMT
Of Flags And Swords With Chris as Vice Admiral Raif
Raif, sat in his office behind a giant old oak wood desk with a bunch of PADDS on the side desk and a main terminal and holoscreen in the centre of the desk accompanied by a touchscreen control on the table. The sound of his receptionist talking to someone loudly outside, resonated through his door. “I’m afraid he’s not seeing anyone right now. Sir… SIR!.” But, instead of someone simply barging in, a chime sounded at the door. Soule tugged at his uniform, ignoring the eyes burning into the back of his head, as he waited for a response. There was only one Admiral’s office he enjoyed visiting, and this was not it; and he tried to push out the discomfort he always felt when he had to interact with a flag officer. He chimed the door again. Raif rubs his bald shiny head slightly while he hears the chime. He taps away on his control panel. “Come.” He says to announce to the on-commer to enter his office. Soule opened the door, quickly stepping through; greeting Raif with a nod. “Admiral.” Raif looks up, “Commander Douglas, how can I help you?” He looks behind Douglas and sees his receptionist staring daggers into Douglas, “Elise, stand down.” He says to calm down his receptionist. “I apologise, sir.” Soule finally looked back over his shoulder, gulping at the terrifying visage on the receptionist’s face, before turning back to the Admiral. “I thought I’d personally inform you, as to the closing of the investigation into Ensign Seka’s murder.” His head tilted down somewhat as he said it, feeling the strain of it finally. “The perpetrator is in custody.” For the first time in about the last 48 hours he smiles, “That is excellent news. I want to congratulate yourself and the crew on a job well done.” He says pulling up information on the situation, “I can definitely say that the Federation council will be happy to hear this. Who was the culprit?” He says, eager to hear the news. “It was Ensign Shokul.” He tensed up slightly saying his name, shaking his head to himself. “With the electrical damage on Seka’s body and the telepathic tampering of Ensign Robinson’s mind, I thought it could have been a Lethean. I hoped it would have been…” He sighed. “To have an outsider commit a random act of violence like this.” “It would make this easier, impersonal almost. But it wasn’t, and it isn’t.” Soule let out a deep sigh, lifting his head to meet the Admiral’s gaze. “The council… will not be happy to hear of the details. I would go so much to say, it might actually shock the people when it comes to trial.” “Indeed, Commander, that is distressing. Some of my advisors even said it might have been a Lethean, to be one of our own and a Vulcan nonetheless. I dare say that my headache has only just begun it seems.” He contemplates what on earth he is going to tell the council, “They are not going to like it one little bit I can assure you of that. Should have seen how they reacted when I told them about you lot at that conference, that caused its own uproar.” He gets up to walk to the replicator, “Commander, a drink? You look like you need one as much as I do.” “Yes… please sir.” He nods, moving closer to the desk, but not quite sitting. “The Zorya crew seems to have that effect on the Admiralty… we are essentially the evolution of sailors, so I’d say we’re seen as cursed… after all the captains we’ve had and all the major incidents we’ve been involved in.” “But this one… this one is gonna have a lot of questions being asked, I fear. With the Schism, and the attack on Cestus; with this being so personal and close to home… hell it happened in our house…” Soule slowly slumped into the chair, whispering to himself. “Enemies without, and enemies within…” He turned to the Raif at the replicator, with a sad, almost defeated look on his face. “And his reasons for doing it are ones that are becoming all too common again; fear and hatred.” “Indeed, it is a shame that this is happening and trust me, I know a thing or two about being cursed. Reminds me of a young Captain Cordan and the amount of science officers we went through on our ship.” He chuckles a tiny bit, “It is sad to see that no matter what we do there will always be fear and hatred surrounding us.” He presses the button on the replicator to bring it to life, “What would you like?” “Dealer’s choice. Tea is my go to. But if you’re having stronger, sir. I wont say no.” He wrests a smirk onto his face. “The implications of this case are weighing heavily on me.” He smiles, "Son, strong is the only way to go," he turns to the replicator, "Aldebaran whiskey, two glasses." And after he commands it, two glasses of the green liquid appear and he walks back over to his desk turning off the holoscreen and handing a glass to Douglas. "Cheers, to hopefully getting to a simple end to this entire mess." Soule nods his thanks to Raif. “Oh, I’ll drink to that, sir.” He took a half mouthful, letting the liquid swirl in his mouth before swallowing, breathing in to feel the deep burning sensation follow it down his throat; his head shakes as it immediately hits him. “Y’know…” Soule started, staring into his glass as his thoughts collected. “Because of my mannerisms, the way I carry myself… I’m seen as a hateful person. How could I not hate my rivals and enemies, if I run into battle with a sword at my side?” He sat back, not really knowing where he was going, but just seemed to be musing aloud. “It breaks my heart to think that Shokul could be how they see me…” Raif smiles, “You remind me of myself when I was a Chief Tactical Officer, under Captain Kaadel Cordan, always saw a threat around the corner, always looking over your shoulder.” He drinks some of his Whiskey and it doesn’t affect him much rather than putting a smile on his face, "Trust me, you have lots to protect, a crew that knows your worth and most likely has your back, a wife and a son, congratulations by the way. You are a fine Chief Tactical Officer and do well in an investigation. You have my thanks for doing an amazing job and for bringing this information to me, I do appreciate a personal touch." He says giving Soule a good smile. “Thank you… sir.” Soule returned the smile, feeling more at ease with this admiral than most others. “I’ll admit, we have not had great luck with our Admirals in Command; the less I say about Vera Hill, the better. So I apologise if we all seem guarded.” He smirked. “I think I must have made my career so far, at stickin’ it to the man… but it does feel good to have an Admiral thank me for my service. I just hope the council and the tribunal feels that way next week.” Soule drank the rest of his whiskey, running his finger along the rim of the glass. “Cuz I… It is my honour to serve Starfleet and the Federation… maybe something more one day. I had really hoped that Cestus coulda been the start to that something; like we had at the end of the Dominion War, with the Klingons and the Romulans, and even the Cardassians. Something more than just uneasy peace.” “And, despite the things that happened, like the Klingons taking the deal and bugging out; and what I did; I think how the Romulans joined us, without question; the Cardassians stayed neutral, despite their leader wanting to assist us; and how even the Talarians pledged their aid, despite how outmatched they were by the Gorn vessels… that is a step in the right direction.” “Indeed, I can convince the council don’t worry about that, and your crew's reputation is already known throughout the Admiralty. What you did at Cestus will come round again. Don’t worry, we are already working on trying to unite everyone again.” He finishes his Whiskey and puts the glass down. Commander, yourself and the crew of the Zorya performed admirably, even your…. Mishap on Cestus, has already been excused and put down to the heat of the moment, I have to say, if I was in your position. I might have done the same as well.” He says chuckling to himself. “Thank you… sir.” This time he looked upon the admiral, scanning his features; the creases in the corners of his eyes, highlighting the life of a man who liked to laugh and be jovial, the slight reddening of his nose showing that he was in fact quite the imbiber, and the softness yet certainty in his speech, that he genuinely enjoyed working with people and was not a fan of pretense. Soule relaxed more than he normally did with someone who was essentially a stranger; perhaps it was trusting the lifetimes of Cordan’s judgement, and the fact that the leftenant showed the same disregard of proper etiquette to the Admiral, as he himself showed Professor Hamlet or Captain Ilaihr; or perhaps he was actually taking the leap to trust his own judgement and finally allow himself reprieve, from seeing conspiracy and enemies around every corner. “Cuz I just want to go home; not to the house me and my wife and our son live in... Our real home, the place where our son was born, where we really began building our lives. And she’s gonna take a lot of work to get her flying again, and I want more than anything to be up there in spacedock; rebuilding our home.” He sat up a bit and chuckled to himself. “And to be honest with you, I’ve never been a fan of the Akira. But the Zorya is special.” He smiles, “I understand what you mean, my old ship before I became an Admiral was with Cordan which was the USS Resolute, a Nebula Class, not my particular favourite but it was home. I’m partial to my new home, the USS Dictum which is a Guardian class cruiser. She purrs like a kitten and it is my home among the stars, when I can get out and about instead of being sat behind this desk, get me out for a few days and away from Elise, you thought she was scary to you, with the stare daggers, well when I forgot to call someone or give her a PADD to send off on time, well those daggers turn into phasers.” He says chuckling, but also checking he hasn’t accidentally left the intercom on to her desk half fearing for his life if she heard him. “I bet you even have some funny stories from your crew, the things that are legends and funny stories between you all. I know I do, from my times as a Lieutenant Commander as CTO aboard the USS Resolute and then a commander as the first officer, one I know you will like, when your next around Cordan, ask him about the SDWs incident, I still have ringing in my ears to this day.” He says, slightly rubbing his ears. Soule chuckled, but tapered off the smile slowly, before giving a solemn sigh. “We have had good times. But, we’ve been in the mud a lot; too much.” Soule stared off into the distance for a good, long moment. “We’ve been soldiers in wars and conflicts across the quadrant, ever since Hyperion; usually on the frontlines, always in the thick of it, and some of them have been against enemies the public don't even know exist. I’ve personally seen things that could have me blacksited, if I spoke about them to anyone… even maybe you, Admiral.” “Really, it’s why I feel like I have to be on the offensive all the time. These shadow wars have to end. And I will fight to the tooth and nail, for my crew to be able to finally rest and have those good times. I want us to be explorers again,to see all the myriad wonders that the galaxy has to offer us; at least until the next big thing that threatens us comes along out of the darkness of the void.” “But with my sword at my side, and my family and crew at my back; I will be ready to defend the peoples of the Federation and beyond. Because, it is my duty and my honour to serve, to protect those who cannot protect themselves, and to fight for those good times again.” Raif just smiles and chuckles, “Very well said Commander. Though, this isn’t an interview for the public broadcast or a recruitment video. Just us two having a chat, also I know a great deal about what you lot have been on. I am head of fleet coordination after all, I’m the one who gives out the orders to send you places. While you're right, I don’t know everything. I do know a large amount of what you and your crew have done, which I don’t know if you get enough recognition for, but you all do an amazing job. I’m sure you will all get the rest you need and do a bit of exploring once the Zorya has been put back into action.” He says giving Douglas a reassuring smile. “Sorry sir.” Soule paused, composing himself. “ It’s difficult to turn it off… it’s partially the implants.” He tapped the right side of his head. “My brain is constantly thrumming with activity. Also, despite how my discipline seems, I was heavily drilled as a boy; in military doctrine. Of those times though… I have some stories.” He laughed, thinking how an Admiral would take to the tales of a human boy raised by Klingons. “And I wouldn’t be the man I am today without them.” "Aye, I saw in your profile, how was it being raised by Klingons? I suppose it was quite tough and quite, routine based. I was similar, my family has been in the military and Starfleet for as long as we can remember, so military doctrine, routines and procedures were around me. We had protocols for going downstairs to eat food." He says trying to help Douglas relax and feel safe with Raif, that he doesn't have to be so wound up and tight in his presence. “When I was first caught stealing gagh, I had one hand, one eye and an infection that nearly killed me; yet when the second officer dragged me before the captain and gave me a good gut punch; I leapt at him and bit his finger off. And that’s when he… the captain… he took me as his son. Within a couple of years, I was constantly by his side; on a campaign or mission, aboard his ship. And I lived and trained like the other Bekks. And not one of them ever pulled their punches, so neither did I.” “Most Klingons view Humans as weak, so I had to train and fight harder in order to gain their respect. And it was a bit of a scandal, my father coming home from the Dominion war with me in tow; Mother was not… happy about it, for years. His son also hated me, cuz… Human.” Soule smiled at the memories. “But I loved it. I was close with his daughter, and when I earned their respect the crew treated me like a brother, I became my father’s favoured son, and mother softened up to me eventually.” “At the time, I never foresaw myself ever returning to the Federation, so I forgot how to be a human being. So now, sometimes… I still feel like I’m not Human.” He chuckled. “I mean… I’m not entirely human anyway; Half Betazoid, and a cyborg,.. with the heart of a Klingon. It’s been Starfleet… my own people, who I’ve found it difficult to connect with. Other than being with Izzy and our son, and sometimes having Joanne over for dinner or training with my officers… I keep to myself, pottering away in the workshop that was once my office.” “I understand, you feel out of place no matter where you look. Yet there is something safe and reassuring about where you are and who you're with. I want you to know that while the admiralty might not show it. You and the crew of the Zorya are appreciated, some Admirals hide their feelings and don’t like to show the happy ones but only the angry ones, I was taught when you're an Admiral, it doesn't matter how hard you are. You always need to earn the respect of the people below you and that starts with a smile. If you ever need somewhere to come to talk or just to have a drink, I’m more than happy to do so. Just off hours as getting drunk while on duty will get me murdered by Elise and probably Cordan.” He says smiling while also wishing he filled up his glass with some more whiskey. “Thank you, Admiral. I appreciate that… so would the others.” Soule paused, letting out a gentle sigh. “Honestly, it’s worth more than all the medals and notes of commendation.” He trailed off in thought for a moment, before chuckling. “Y’know, even after all of this, I still truly want to command my own ship someday… it ain’t happening any time soon… but I still dream about it.” “Even if all goes well next week though, I may never see the big chair again.” He glared at that empty glass some more, realising it would need to be bigger let alone full, just to continue that thought. “I should let you get back to your work, sir.” He shook his head, clearing his mind. “I’ve probably taken up enough of your time.” Raif smiles, “There was a time I thought I would never get my shot at the big chair, trust me, it will come. Might not be today, might not be tomorrow, but eventually your turn will come and you will have your shot. Dreams are what keep hope alive, never let go of your dreams or hope and you never know what might happen.” He looks at the PADD next to him and then back to Douglas, “Honestly, this break has done me good, I have been looking at fleet deployments and statistics all morning as well as preparing a briefing for the federation council on our current deployments. So you're more than welcome to come and disrupt me anytime.” he pauses for a second to think, “Honestly, might be safer for you to beam out rather than walk out, otherwise you don’t want Elise to get you on the way out.” He says having a little laugh to himself. “Ach… I have faced Tzenkethi, Breen, the Borg… my own Grandmother... “ He took to his feet, reaching out his right hand to shake the Admiral’s. “I’m sure the Commander is but a warm fuzzy Sehlat.” He smirked. “Aye sure… I’ve just never tried to cross her at all, and she once managed to drink a Tellarite Ambassador under the table, which was a sight to see.” He says shaking Douglas’ hand. “I hope to see you soon Commander.” He says preparing to dodge anything thrown at Douglas by Elise on his exit, if she decides to. Soule strode out the door calmly and confidently, nodding to Elise as he went; feeling the heat of her laser eyes on his face. As he turned the corner, his cupped his head in his hands, decompressing for a moment before he continued on, for what will probably be the longest week of his life so far.
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Post by Andrew Rice on Jul 22, 2023 20:51:08 GMT
Team Meeting
Soule sat in his workshop behind his desk; the Dragonslayer laid upon it in front of him, its hilt and guard dismantled and joined by a number of precision tools. He was joined by his inner circle; the whole of his Alpha Team, the other team leaders, and the flight squadron leaders. His gadgets and various devices that he's been tinkering with were all pushed into as convenient a places as they could be, comfortable foldout chairs spread around and in front of the desk, in a random sprawl. Most of the group sat, whilst a few hovered around the room examining things, or simply chose to stand and lean.
"I'm glad you could all attend." Soule said sternly looking around at them.
"Is this one of those meetings? Or are you just being dour?" Koval replied, the grizzle in his voice matching the stern.
"No." Soule said simply, with a minor growl of irritation.
"Goodo!" Koval clapped his hands, reaching into his uniform jacket pocket, pulling out a cigar and placing it to his lips. "Someone be a dear?" He asked, looking around the room. Takimara, one of the squadron leaders, reached inside his flight jacket, pulling out what looked like an antique clipper lighter, and obliged. The pair giving each other a nod of recognition and thanks, in turn.
Soule grumbled again. "You better have more for the class, Kove!" He gave him a long glare, holding his hand out.
"The sexual tension is palpable." Evans blurted out, as he sat reaching for the tip of the Dragonslayer, absentmindedly.
"Shut up, Evans!" Soule and Koval said in unison. "And don't touch that!" A couple of the others stopped dead in their tracks, staring across the room at him. "Evans! Don't touch that." They all went back to their fiddling. "Although, Soren don't touch that portable shield emitter, it's not properly calibrated."
The Bajoran leader of Gamma Team jittered with something of a nervous disposition, an unfortunate trait in an explosives expert. "S-sure thing boss." He still leant closer to the unit, eyeing it up for some reason.
"Ow! I cut my finger!" Evans cried out, whimpering sadly and sucking his finger, as blood started to trickle out.
"He warned you not to touch it, idiot." Balked Mingna, smirking at her teammate's suffering.
"Yeah, it's a sword. What did you think would happen?" Gessen added.
"So why did you ask us all here, boss? LeClerq asked, bringing the group back on point. "But seriously Kove, start passing them around or I swear to god, I'll come over there."
"Ach, bitches." He fished into his pocket and pulled out a small tin of cigars, with most of the group taking one, with Takimara lighting them all in turn with an exasperated sigh. "Someone better get me a drink then, to lessen the pain of saying goodbye." He puffed on his cigar, and found a chunk of metal that he was now going to use as an ashtray.
"Gess." Soule said, reaching into his desk drawer, pulling out a dozen glasses. Gessen nodded, getting up and thumping on the wall next to him, opening a secret panel and pulling out a number of bottles off a shelf and weighing them up, before settling on a blue one.
As Gessen poured the drinks and passed them around, Soule got down to business. "We needed a confab, lot of changes, want your reports, your opinions. Got any personnel issues you need to bring up?"
"You wanna know what we think of the marines." LeClerq said confidently. "Already got mine and Koval's opinions on them. They're good, not quite up to your standards, and they rely too heavily on overwhelming force rather than cunning and tenacity."
"Fuckin' dullards they are, and they got some flashy toys to compensate." Koval barked, taking a long puff of his cigar then a swig of his drink.
"We have fancy toys…" Evans murmured from the corner, still sucking on his finger.
"But we don't get to use them often." Whispered the leader of Epsilon, a Ferasan named L'zek, with fur like an iridescent coloured shadow. He let out a slight pur, as he bore his formidable canines in a smirk. "I am interested in training with them, though."
The team all nodded in assent, sipping their drinks and smoking their cigars, quietly pondering to themselves a moment
"Figure they're a plant, boss?" The most senior of the squadron leaders, the ever conveniently named Earhart, stepped away from playing around with things on the wall and joined the group, pulling up a chair for herself. She rustled her long white hair, and looked curiously at Soule.
"Hard to tell at the minute, I haven't had a good look at them yet. I'm relying on all of you, to get good readings on them and bring them back to me."
"How are we handling them?" Earhart and L'zek both voiced, with Koval and LeClerq both on the cusp.
"Standard procedures with them for now, we'll introduce them to any of our emergency protocols only when and if they occur, and only in extremis." Soule answered assuredly.
"So no Acheron protocol, or Apollyon protocols then?" Koval chuckled. "That would blow their fucking minds anyway, their programming wouldn't allow it."
"What about the Damocles protocols?" LeClerq added.
"We shouldn't need Damocles now that Izzy is Captain. If something's wrong, I should be able to stop it long before Damocles would need to be called." Soule finally sipped his drink, before continuing. "But it needs to be amended, the assumption should be made, that we're either dealing with a bodysnatcher or a duplicate."
"Duly noted, sir." LeClerq nodded, with a smile.
The momentary quiet was shattered by a fizz and bang, and subsequent crash as Soren finally touched the shield emitter and was thrown across the room. "Shield bomb! We c-c-can turn the shields into bombs!" He waved, seeming strangely unphased, from the floor, with his uniform smoking.
"Thank you for your input Soren, it's always appreciated." Soule sighed, knowing that now the Bajoran had an idea, there would be ramifications at some point in the future. "Please don't die on the floor."
"Thanks boss, I won't." Soren laid back, staring up at the ceiling, with a glazed look in his eyes. "Gessen may need to pour the drink into me though, I think I might be paralysed."
There was a noticeable breath taken by all in the room.
"I told you not to touch it. Why do you guys ignore me when I say don't touch the thing?" Soule ignored the statement and sipped his drink with a sigh.
"I'm a dreamer, boss. I don't know what the fuck Evans' problem is." Soren cackled from his spot, Gessen now hovering over him with a mildly concerned look, and a bottle of booze in hand.
"What about you and Geralt's pet project?" Earhart cut back to the discussion at hand. "I've had a chat with one of the marine's team leaders; they're reserved and disciplined, but they are nosey by the looks of things. Asked a lot of questions about the ship, generally relating to its tactical capabilities."
"Project Paladin is none of their business, and Geralt will keep it that way. Besides it's still in the design and R&D phases, there isn't much for them to find." He tapped his hand on the Dragonslayer, sending out a dull thud that built to a mild twang.
"Still no idea of what the sword is made of then?" Mingna asked curiously from across the room, now aiding Gessen with Soren.
"No." Soule frowned, staring up the black metal blade. "Some highly advanced alloy, or metal the computer doesn't recognise. Terran alchemy." He shrugged. "It's taken phaser blasts, tetryon beams, a plasma explosion and shrapnel, not even a scratch; the blade didn't even dull after I cleared wreckage with it."
"Seriously?" Koval and L'zek both uttered, giving the question a weird stereoscopic quality, Koval's gravelly rasp and L'zar's deathly sibilant whisper.
"Yep. I'll have the science department keep looking into it, but I might have to hand it to Arthur on our next swing by of Earth to have a look at it."
"Doesn't explain why you dismantled it though." Evans said plainly, having finally finished sucking on his finger.
"Another project I'm working on." Soule nodded. "Maybe it'll come in handy if it works… if… my legs ever work again." He sighed and went quiet for a moment, a couple in the group were about to say something when he continued talking again. "Right… we do have other businesses. Ming…" He looked across the room to Mingna and Gessen who were lowering Soren into a chair.
"Y-w-what?" She replied, frowning over at him, not liking the tone of his voice.
"You're in charge of Alpha Team. Congratulations." Soule grinned. "You'll need a replacement for me, too."
Mingna sighed, eyeing up Gessen. "We know."
"Yeah, Soule. We were thinking of tryouts for the senior cadets and newly minted ensigns." Gessen added. "And we knew it was a toss up between Ming and Me. So… pay up Ming, you owe me two strips of latinum.'
"Hey what the hell do you mean a toss up? I'm on the friggin team too!" Evans exclaimed.
"Yeah but, you're disqualified… because you're Evans." Gessen quickly jabbed back with a smirk. "You're lucky we haven't shot you."
"You have shot me! Many times. He's shot me." Evans pointed his thumb at Soule. "The cat fucking strung me up once, and threatened to eat my liver." He pointed accusingly at L'zek, who returned it with a predatory gaze. "And there was that one time, when Taank picked me up, and used me as a shield."
"Hmmm." Soule cut off Evan's whining with but a hum. "Speaking of whom, how is Taank, Soren?"
The Bajoran either nodded or twitched to himself for a moment, before he replied. "He's a Chalnoth. He's gigantic and scary, w-w-what more do you want?"
"Well, it has come to my attention that he is having some interpersonal issues." Soule placed his glass down on the desk, and actually took the cigar he had been given earlier, using a small plasma torch on his desk to light it.
"He's gigantic and scary. That's why he carries the big gun. He just needs to eat his meat, and be a good boy."
"Yes, I'm aware." Soule puffed his cigar, savouring the taste, before blowing out the smoke ominously. "That is what the issue is about." He turned to Earhart.
"He stole that goddamn gun from one of my fighters!" The senior flight lieutenant barked at the jittery heavy weapon specialist.
"Oh, that's an exag-ag-ageration. It was on the weapons rack. You've got spares." Soren chuckled, resting his head on the back of his chair.
"Spares!" Earhart's white hair practically rose up like the snakes on Medusa's head, her eyes like daggers. "You know how hard it is to maintain the stocks of our heavy munitions!"
Soule raised a placating hand, giving a nod to Mingna, who promptly lifted Soren's head up. "Not only will you have to repay the Leftenant for the weapon, but if Taank wants to keep his new toy, he will have to put it in lockup, like every bugger else." He glared. "Geralt does not like it. And what do we not do?"
"Don't piss off Geralt." Everyone but Soren said the same line, in an almost drilled unison
"Don't help him." Soule snapped. "Soren…"
"Euuuuugh." Soren was able to hold his head up under his own power, looking to Earhart. "I will acquire you another phaser turret, we'll be meeting up with the fleet in a day. Us boomrats gotta stick together y'know, so we can blow other people apart." He threw her a playful grin at his morbid sense of humour, before turning to Soule. "And I will talk to the Giant, because we don't piss off Geralt."
"Very good. Is that agreeable with you Maggie?" Soule looked questioningly.
"It's a start, I suppose." Earhart glared at the Bajoran. "He can also stop thinking exactly what's he's thinking, right now. Or I'll slap him like a bitch."
"Maggie… we don't read people's minds if they don't want us to." Soule cautioned, in an even tone.
"Oh, he wants me to." She turned away, curling her nose.
"All I was thinking, was asking her to dinner. And maybe, maybe, the thought of lacey lingerie popped into my head." Soren protested, yet had a smile on his face. "Maybe I was thinking I should wear it?"
"Deal with that bullshit, between the two of you. Don't let it escalate to the point I have to deal with it."
"Yes boss." Earhart nodded and smirked. "He gets one dinner, but he does indeed have to wear the lingerie."
"Done. Next case." Soule hammered his hand on the desk.
"Noooooo." Soren slumped into his chair, trying to work out whether it was worth it.
The group looked between each other for a long quiet while, thinking about any issues they might have, anything they might need to bring up.
"How did the sonic weapons fare?" Soule looked to Koval and LeClerq, as the thought came to his mind as an addendum, the rest of the group turning to them with some curiosity as well.
"Mine malfunctioned during the operation, no other faults occurred amongst our teams." LeClerq reported succinctly.
"They're in need of improvement, a little refinement and the like." Koval added. "You, and Geralt and, y'know that uhh, that Emeric, you guys could turn that into a properly functional weapon."
"I'll let Iz… I'll let the Captain know. Maybe we can get a limited manufacture run, after we tweak the design." Soule took in they opinion and nodded. "And I'll let the Chief know you think so highly of her, Koval."
"She did good, sir." LeClerq interjected. "You briefed us, that she can panic when shit gets hot. I think the complexity of the technical situation eased and focused her mind."
"Yeah. You'd'a been proud of her boss. She held herself together." Koval laughed, finishing off his drink. "Besides, it's the Commander I think highly of."
"And on that note… I think we have concluded all current business." Soule shook his head at Koval and looked around the room. "You're free to go when to want."
The group all finished their drinks and cigars over the course of the next few minutes, chatting between each other about various things, and winding down after a long day, before they started to filter out.
The flight leaders, Earhart, Takimara and the Ley'wyk, who had remained silent and passive the whole meeting, got up first and left together, with L'zek seeming to vanish shortly after. LeClerq and Gessen being responsible, slung their arms under Soren, and eased him to his feet, deciding it was a good idea to swing by sickbay with him. Koval sat for a long while whilst he finished another cigar before getting to his feet, bidding his dues, and rushing off to catch the others. Mingna and Evans remained longer, sitting opposite Soule, with their feet on the desk.
"What are you guys still doing here? Go, I've got other shit to do, and you're off duty."
The pair looked between each other. "You need us to take you anywhere, Soule?" Mingna finally asked. With Evans for a change, shaking his head at her, with his eyes wide in caution.
There was a momentary twitch in Soule's eye at the question, yet he remained even and outwardly calm. "I don't need to be taken anywhere Ming."
"I know, boss, I didn't mean…to say… we're just…" She stuttered, feeling like a laser was on her.
Evans cleared his throat loudly and distractingly. "Eject… eject." He cleared his throat some more. "But uh, yeah… you doing alright?"
"I'm fine Evans."
"Yeah, but are you?" Evans pushed, taking both the lead and the heat from Mingna. "You forget we were on Hyperion with you, we know when shit's up. And… you basically lost your legs, man."
"I don't want to talk about it now, Evans."
"Yeah but, boss man, it helps to talk and we're… here y'know. You've been by our side when…" Evans was cut off.
"Jacob, enough!" Soule snapped, not quite angrily, but it made his feelings clear.
"We just care about you, Soule." Mingna said softly, putting a hand on Evans' arm and standing up with him. "Its our job to watch out for you as much as you watch out for us."
Soule sighed, rubbing at his face. "I know. But, I need to deal with it on my own terms. Focus on taking care of each other; we're moving into interesting times." He finished, with a genuine but noticeably broken smile.
Mingna nodded, partially dragging Evans behind her, as they made their way out the door; they shared a look of concern as it closed behind them.
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Post by Andrew Rice on Feb 5, 2024 23:28:45 GMT
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Post by Andrew Rice on Feb 5, 2024 23:30:41 GMT
Greeting Old Friends As the diplomatic niceties were underway in the shuttlebay, Soule, still being on leave, decided to go to the transporter room and meet a few new arrivals to the ship. He rolled in through the doors in his chair, and waited at the foot of the pad. “Are our new transfers ready for transport, chief?” Soule asked the teleporter operator. “One is sir.” They replied hastily. “There’s meant to be three.” “They must be coming in from different places, sir, is all I can say.” “Very well, chief. Energise.” In the ubiquitous twinkly blue light, materialised a beautiful dark haired Risian woman upon the transporter pad. She sported a tightly bound bun, and the tattoo her people typically had, in purple; with her bag slung across her shoulder. She looked down at Soule and smiled brightly, but then frowned. “Major Klara Herald, reporting for duty, sir.” She gave a quick salute, before rushing down the step and to his side, the formality out of the way. “By the gods, Soule, what happened?!” She leant down and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, kissing him on both cheeks, before hugging him tightly. “It’s good to see you, but what happened?” “Bad mission, don’t really wanna talk about it; but it's temporary, I’ll get back on my feet.” He mustered a smile. “It's really good to see you too, Klar. How have you been?” She stood back up and looked at him, then pointed to the bars on her shoulder. “Got promoted to Major, since the last time I saw you. That was nice.” He nodded her thanks to the transporter chief for safely beaming her over, before continuing. “So you gonna show me ‘round this ship of your’s or what?” “Not… quite yet.” He looked to one side. “Chief?” “We got one more sir. Energising.” They replied chipperly, blushing at the Risian. The next shimmer of light, brought a tall Rigellian, his skin a chalky white, with a rich mahogany coloured facial display that his species carried; long white dreadlocks cascading down his back. “Holy shit!” He immediately shouted! “Klara! What the hell are you doing here?” He ran down and launched into a hug. “Kiss me on the lips! No, wait… don’t!” He stepped back. “You kiss me on the lips!” The Rigelian barked at Soule, dropping his bag to the floor, before plonking down on Soule’s lap, and doing exactly what he said he was gonna do; a loud and squeaky mwah echoing across the transporter room. “When’d you become motorised?” “Get… off… me…” Soule said in his rumbly voice, completely ignoring the kiss. “I don't think so. Oooh, is that a banana in your pocket or are you just really happy to see me?” The Rigelian smirked. “Kimpor… buddy…” Soule had a face that was an unusual mix of his normal annoyance, and mild amusement. “Get the fuck off me, man. Don’t make me order you.” “You ain’t in uniform, you can’t give me orders at the minute. Now, drive me to the bar, and buy me a drink; looks like the three of us have a lot of catching up to do.” He smiled at Soule and then Klara in turn. “You’re gonna tell me how this happened.” He gestures to the chair. “Were you blown up? It’s ok, it happens to all of us, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” “Firstly; four of us, we’ve got one more coming. Secondly; yes… I was blown up, I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Thirdly and most importantly; Please for the love of all the gods… get the fuck off me, Jalon or I swear to those same gods, that I will smite you down.” “Awwww, yer a spoil sport.” Kimpor sighed, then jumped off the chair, reaching down and grabbing his bag again. “Buuut, you didn’t say no to buying me a drink. That’s legally binding, you saw it Klara, you’re witness to this.” The Risian smiled and shook her head, before looking at Soule. “Who’s… who’s the third transfer, Soule?” “You aren’t gonna like it.” He replied, with a placating shrug of his shoulder. “No.” She croaked. “Don't you even…” “What?” Kimpor asked, looking confused, his facial crest crumpling like a furrowed brow. “What?” “Sir.” The transporter chief called. “Finally getting that third beam up. It’s weird, they were good to go, but then cancelled a bunch of times. But they’re ready now. Beaming up now.” She typed at the console, slowly pushing her fingers up as she initiated the transport. The third and final arrival materialised on the padd as the others did; he looked somewhat exasperated. He was human, with a short but stocky build, and a greasy looking wavy black hair, and a crowlike stare. “Oh for god sake. What the hell are they doing here? And why are you a fucking cripple?” He strode down the stairs, flailing his hands around as if they were emphasising the question. “Nice to see you too, Zizgy.” Soule said, with some actual warmth. “Nice trip up?” “No!” Zigzy seethed. “The missus got in a pissy with me before we beamed up.” “What did you do?” Klara said accusingly, noting that said wife wasn’t there. “Nothing! Maybe…” He crossed his arms. “Hassling me about…” He mumbled something. “What was that? Didn’t quite catch that?” Soule smirked. “It was none of your business, you prick!” He scowled, sighing and deflating a little. “Baby stuff. She want’s a baby, and apparently no, was the wrong answer.” Klara laughed. “Absolutely was, idiot. Well done. So, she’s not coming aboard with you?” “She’ll be up later.” He began to growl. “Even if I have to grovel…. Bledy Orions!” “Grovelling will be the least of what you’ll have to do?” Kimpor added. “Enough about my life! What are we doing? Why are we all here? What's going on?” Zigzy rattled off in quick succession. “He can fill us in, over drinks. Drinks, drinks, drinks, drinks” Kimpor chanted, pumping his fists in the air. “Fine…” Soule rolled his eyes. “I will literally fill you in with everything we’ve had going on here… since we were last all together.” He looked to Kimpor. “Over drinks.” “And you’ll tell us why you’re a cripple?” Zigzy sniped. “If you call me a cripple again, Zigellmen, I will pop you like a grape.” Soule frowned, gripping his hand in the air, the whirring sound of metal accompanying the gesture. “Touche.” Zigzy backed down, holding his hands up in supplication. “And then you’ll give us a tour, right?” Klara asked innocently. “Oh you guys, do not ask for much do you?” Soule sighed, rolling toward the door.”Come on then…” He pause as the doors wished open. “Chief could you link up with the quartermaster register and beam their bags to their quarters, please? “Aye sir.” The transporter operator smiled, complying with the order. “Umm… Major Herald.” She twirled her hair. “Could I… buy you a drinks some point? Names, Eliza… uhm… Petty Officer Talik… Eliza Talik. ” Klara smiled mischievously. “Sure., Petty Officer Eliza Talik. If you can handle me.” She winked before turning back to the door. “Go on Soule. Lead the way.” Kimpor then leapt back into Soule’s lap. “Onward! Valiant steed!”
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Post by Andrew Rice on Feb 12, 2024 19:56:24 GMT
Greeting New Hires With Babs as Izzy
After a tour of the Zorya, and then a round of drinks with Soule; the trio of Klara, Kimpor and Zigzy were mulling over the information that had been imparted to them. Soule had filled them in on practically every event and major operation over the last few years that had happened to the ship and the crew. They were currently in the turbolift on the way to the bridge, meeting with their new Captain in her ready room; and they were surprised to find out that it was Isabelle. “This place is a fucking mad house. What the fuck have I agreed to here?” Zigzy ranted, leaning up against the wall. “It's certainly… an eventful place.” Klara shrugged. “Oh, you guys are crazy! This ship sounds fucking awesome. I knew the ship Douglas served on was gonna be a wild ride, but I was not prepared. We're gonna have so much fun here, and maybe die in the process! That's amazing.” “Clearly we have very different opinions on fun and amazing! I'm bringing my wife here, man!” Zigzy barked. “Let's definitely try not to die.” Klara nodded her head, in an attempt to reign in the Rigelian, as the turbolift came to a halt and opened up onto the bridge. “And we're all on our best behavior…” She says with a soft tone, that was clearly an order, with an implicit threat that she would kick their asses; with her eyes particularly focused on Zigzy. After a few moments they all strode out onto the bridge, being met with a number of curious gazes, as they approached the ready room door.” “Uh, excuse me, who are you?” Asked an operations officer, turning in his seat. “We’re the new hires!” Replied Kimpor jollily, humming to himself. “What scab face said.” Added Zigzy. “Fu-hu-hu-huck you.” The Rigelian retorted back in a sing-song manner. The exchange was interrupted by two cracking sounds, the pair both going “Ow”, as Klara wrapped her knuckles across the back of their heads. “We’re here to report to the Captain. I assume this is the ready room.” She said in an apologetic tone, before depressing the door chime, before the operations officer could even reply. Izzy had managed to find a slice of time in her day when she wasn’t having to show around the brass, or spend time listening to the mission details. She was finally relaxing, enjoying a quiet cup of tea on the sofa when the door chime rang. “Come in,” she called out cheerfully, setting the mug on the sofa table. The trio quickly filled in, and each stood to attention. “Major Klara Herald, Starfleet Marine Corps.” The Risian saluted. “Lieutenant Commander Kimpor Jalon, Starfleet Security.” The Rigelian nodded, his dreadlocks rustling slightly at the motion. Zigzy sighed. “Lieutenant Commander Augustus Zigellmen, Starfleet Intelligence.” He turned to the other two. “Come on guys, she knows who we are. We’ve met.” “Shut up, Zigzy.” Klara whispered out of the corner of her mouth. Izzy stood to greet them, a broad grin forming on her face. “Klara, Zig, Kimpor! It’s good to see you! I’m glad you could make it. Please, make yourselves comfortable.” She motioned to the sofa and to the available chairs by her desk. Then she looked past them towards the door, with a glint in her eye. “Thanks for bringing them up, Imzadi.” She looked to Soule with a smile. “I haven’t had time to check the arrivals schedule, all of these VIP’s on the ship have been running me ragged.” “Wait a minute, you weren't in the turbolift with us… where the hell did you come from?” Zigzy startled at the sight of Soule sitting at the door in his wheelchair. “Everyone thinks I'm just the angry guy with a sword, don't they? I am capable of stealth, even in my current state.” Soule scowled. “That's actually really impressive dude.” Kimpor walked to the desk and pulled up a pair of chairs, passing one to Zigzy. “Why did you send us up here, then? Why did you not come with us?” Klara asked, as she moved over and took a spot on the sofa next to Izzy. “I am also a man of mystery.” He turned to Izzy. “Do you want me to leave you to it or…?” He left the other half of the question unsaid. “Feel free to stay if you'd like. I just want to get them started on their duties. But since they're serving on your team, you’ll probably have more to add.” Soule rolled into the room and let the door close behind him. Izzy turned to the group. “I’m sure you already know that Soule’s on leave for the time being while he heals. And he’s asked for you specifically - he needs people he trusts to serve on his team during the time he's off duty, and beyond that, if you're all willing to stay on. Klara, we need you to serve as liaison with the Marines on board, which Admiral Raif assigned to us. Kimpor, you’ll be handling Alpha team. Zigzy, you will of course be running intelligence.” She gathered her thoughts to continue, looking at each of them in turn. “Beyond the incident which injured Soule and left our previous Captain in a coma, and put me in the Captain’s chair, alot has happened. I’m sure Soule’s filled you in on most of it already, but here’s the rundown… In the past few years, we've been through some sensitive missions, and one incident that involved another dimension, that have made this crew a target by people that are extremely dangerous. I know all of you are very capable officers, given what we’ve been through together in the past. I can’t think of anyone better to protect this ship and crew from the unique dangers that we face.” “And also…” her captain’s facade dropped, and she chuckled. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been hanging out with the Admiral and the Vice president and scientists all day, I must sound really formal. How the hell are you all? It’s been a literal age.” “Yeah, he filled us in on basically everything that's happened… since the forge.” Klara replied to Izzy with a smile. “It took a fuckin age. I thought meeting the Prophets was interesting, but then the mirror universe… and…” Zigzy started, but stopped as Klara scowled at him. “But, more Iconian tech showing up…” Kimpor added. “And those bugs… and always getting involved in Section 31… Seems like you guys are really on the frontier of the age turning. And I am all about it. I accept the job. Starfleet Security was getting a bit stodgy for me, I wanna stretch my wings.” “It's good to see you too Isabelle.” Klara continued with what she was going to say. “I can understand why you called us. I’ll do what I can to help with your marine contingent. I'm familiar with the “Immortals”. Soule growled at the back of the room. “Whoever called them that was clearly an egotist, and so they are.” The Risian shrugged. “Alot of my last marine platoon are traditionally Andorians; we were called the Icebreakers.” “Way cooler.” Kimpor smirked. “I'm sorry, the girl from the eternal summer planet, and she got into… the Icebreakers.” Zigzy snorted. Klara ignored the remark, and Kimpor’s terrible joke. “I couldn't countermand Colonel Caldwell in the field or anything, unless the order is handed down by either of you two; but my rank in the marine structure would have me as his number two of three. And if the others don't listen, they will soon learn to.” The beautiful Risian smile of hers managed to look surprisingly ominous. Izzy gave a sigh of relief. “I'm glad to hear you'll all be staying. Serving on this ship can be difficult sometimes, and much of what we’ve gone through wasn’t for the faint of heart.” “Klara, the Marines officially answer to me as Commander in Chief, but the Admiral has the final say on their duties, given the rank hierarchy. Not ideal, since they can be ordered by someone outside of this ship… and it makes me wonder where their true loyalties lie. I don’t completely distrust Admiral Raif. He usually seems to have our best interest in heart, but that doesn’t mean every member of the brass does. And given our experience with Taldean… I don't trust the marines not to be co-opted in a bad situation.” The betrayal still stung, and she furrowed her brow momentarily as she remembered being handcuffed and basically kidnapped for questioning, along with the rest of the senior staff. “Having someone else in place to keep them in line is welcome, and I'm glad it's you. Having said that, they have proved themselves useful in fighting the bugs, and if the Gorn come after us again, we’ll need all of the fighting forces at our disposal.” “Zig, you’ll be the eyes and ears of the ship. There isn't a specific intelligence team on board, and I intend to keep it that way, so I‘ll need your discretion. Commander Feyna, my first officer, is former SFI, and fulfills some of those duties, but I’m sure she will need the extra support. Officially… Soule will write you in wherever it makes the most sense.” She looked to Soule. “I don't even know if I'm gonna agree to this long term…” Zigzy grumbled. “Yes, you do.” Klara retorted. “And you will.” “Don't peer pressure me!” Zigzy folded his arms, chewing the inside of his mouth, making a ponderous hum. “I'm sure it'll be more thrilling than sitting in a data analysis lab. I'd probably have to work with your operations people too. I'm gonna have to learn this ship's whole goddamn data transfer architecture, and the layout of all monitoring and security points. Uuuggghhh…” He rubbed his face with both hands as he rocked in his chair, before sitting back up and sighing. “Fine… and I'll report to whoever you tell me to. And I can keep an eye on those marines too… I don't like marines, they've botched too many active operations that I've been a part of. So many months of work, wasted.” He sneered at Klara. The Risian gestured something, making Soule chuckle in the corner; with neither of them elaborating. Klara then nodded to Izzy. “I will keep an eye on them. They're probably gonna be pretty hostile to me, but that's ok; it'll only go so far, and if it does go further it'll just confirm your suspicions and we'll have them dead to rights then.” Izzy nodded back to Klara with a smile. “Thank you, Klara. And Zig, you could handle the forge, so I know you’ll do fine with handling the tech on the Zorya.” “So what do you guys want from me?” Kimpor asked curiously. “I have a team for you to lead.” Soule replied. “My Alpha team. Currently Ming-na Sunxiang is leading it, but she doesn't think she's ready; I disagree, but can't have her doubting herself like that in the field. She will make you a very good second though, and she'll even reign you in sometimes.” “Ahhh, what more could you ask from your second?” The Rigelian grinned broadly, leaning back in his chair a little. “What about the others on the team?” “There's Mar Gessen, a Denobulan; he's a pretty quiet, extremely rational, generally pleasant guy to be around, and he's very competent at what he does.” Soule took a brief pause, looking at Izzy for a moment knowing who was next. “Pretty much the exact opposite, there's Jacob Evans; he's abrasive like sandpaper, I mean you might like him, you might wanna punch him in the face, I do. Sometimes I shoot him, because sometimes he just needs to shut up. But he does actually have two redeeming qualities, he's a really really good shot, and he's loyal like a hound.” “I'm assuming you're joking about shooting him, right?” Kimpor asked, leaning closer again, looking concerned. “He's a precocious little scamp, so sometimes you just have to put him down. I don't think I ever met someone who thrived on negative reinforcement like he does. I think long ago, he chose to be both a jester and the team's lightning rod.” Soule smirked. “But don't go above stun setting six, he’ll lose consciousness and he won't learn anything; he'll just blank it out.” “I can confirm that.” Izzy smirked in amusement. “Evans has the medical records to prove it. But please don’t abuse the guy too much, he’s served with us a long time, and it’s hard to find good officers. But anyway...” She grinned, and then continued on. “Now, for this current mission, as I mentioned earlier, we have a lot of high level officials on board. As such, you'll need dress uniforms for certain situations, and you’ll need to be at your best around them. If you're not comfortable with that aspect of it, then I'd ask that you stay in the background. Otherwise, Klara and Kimpor, you may be asked to attend a formal gathering or two, especially if you're assigned honor guard, so please brush up on your etiquette. And I'm sure Soule is heartbroken not to have to attend any of that right now… “ “Oh yes, it hurts me deeply not to have to coddle and babysit a bunch of disconnected and ungrateful grownup children.” Soule sniped from the back. “But if things do suddenly go pear-shaped, you know I'm near if you need me.” “I second that. Background it is.” Zigzy spat. “Fuck diplomats. That is absolutely not my wheelhouse; unless you want me to get dirt on them. Then I am aroused.” “You mean your attention is aroused?” Kimpor asked innocently. “Also yes.” “Euuugh.” Klara groaned in disgust. “Y’know, I've never been asked to wear a formal dress uniform like that.” She pushed through. “Yeah, I knew there had to be a catch to getting my own team.” Kimpor laughed. Izzy gave Soule an affectionate chuckle, and a nod. “You’ll be the first to know if something goes wrong, love.” She turned to the others. “I’m not a fan of the ceremonies either, never have been… but I do have to put on a good showing, even if I don’t like it,” she shrugged. “But if you’re really not comfortable doing the formal events, I trust Soule to assign you where he thinks you’ll be needed the most, besides that.” “We only have to put up with most of the high level brass through the state dinner tonight… which is good, because having them all stay on board for the whole mission would be too much. But, after that there will still be a couple of admirals and some diplomats remaining on board, along with the scientists who requested the mission.” “I think we’ll acquit ourselves well, Captain.” Klara smiled. “I happen to think that I am a mingler; those admirals and diplomats will feel so schmoozed, they won't know what to do with themselves.” Kimpor chuckled, with a strange little sway. “Yeah, gonna pass. Rather be shot in the face.” Zigzy snorted, looking at Soule. “So, firing squad at dawn?” “I think I can find something for you to busy yourself with.” Soule shot back. “Y’know the current threats are the Gorn Hegemony and the Bok’nor Pact.” He wheeled closer. “Well, I don’t give the pact all that much credence. Yeah they are going to be an irritation for us for a few years, but I don’t think they’re a legitimate threat. The Cardassians will realise that once again, they’ve aligned themselves with some very volatile people. The Breen are an enigma like the Tholians, but they are literally ice and fire, and something will give eventually. And that’s forgetting the Tzenkethi who don’t even wanna be there.” “As for the Gorn…” Soule gritted his teeth and growled. “On the grand scale, they’re nothing. But they’re gonna punch well above their weight and try desperately to reclaim old glory, and they’re gonna make everyone suffer for it. And what they’re gonna be planning, will have the faintest hint of being personal; because it is.” “Because ya fuckin’ murdered they’re Warboss lizard lady.” Zigzy couldn’t help himself but take a dig, then bit his tongue for a change as he realised he might have gone too far. Soule sighed. “Yes. Because I executed the Warmaster. She gave the order to commit genocide. She was a powerful leader, and her people would have followed that order as long as she was alive. To rob her of an honourable death like I did, was all that could have been done to prevent them glassing the planet. Killing thirty million people, Federation and Gorn, alike.” “I didn’t say it was a bad call, just…” Zigzy looked down and away from the intensity of Soule’s eyes. “I went to Cestus.” Klara cut in, nudging Izzy a little, to pull attention away. “We were sent with the reinforcements, but we ended up being mop up crews… and being stationed there for a month or so after just to keep an eye on things.” ”You were there?” Izzy turned to Klara. “So you probably saw the aftermath…including the bombed out mine. And I’m sure you know about the loss of life…even before Soule killed the War leader, hundreds must have died, both on the planet and in orbit. And so many people on the Zorya… “ “Soule knows I’d rather tend to an entire ER of hypochondriacs rather than go to a diplomatic function, and Cestus is one of the main reasons why. It all started with a diplomatic event. And we were betrayed by the ones running it, who were supposed to be on our side.” “The current mission doesn't involve anyone outside of the Federation so far, but stay alert all the same. We’re exploring an unknown signal on Pacifica coming from the ocean, it might even be a first contact situation… hence the brass. But, in case it's something we have to defend against, be ready for it.” “Aye, Captain.” The trio all replied in unison. “Well, your first shifts start tomorrow. So, I'd settle in and get comfortable, and we can make all the proper introductions to your departments then.” Soule nodded to Izzy, for her to dismiss. “Very good. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early. Dismissed!”
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