[USS Charon] SD241002.27 || Joint BackLog "Charon Prison Blues" Part II || Amb Ian Lamont, Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax

[USS Charon, Brig]

 

Lamont took a seat in the corner and made himself comfortable against the wall.  He wanted to give Sakarra as much room as possible.  Whatever had happened had to be weighing upon her even if she did not show it.  He wanted to help, but he knew showing such human tendencies would only make her more uncomfortable.  The best he could do was to grant her silence and peace.  Leaning back he closed his eyes and listened to the hum of the equipment around him doing his best to forget about the burning dualistic feeling within him that both wished to understand what had happened to the commander as well as attempt to assist in any way possible.

 

"Mr Lamont, I will not dispute your courtesy, nor is it my wish to offend by declining your kind offer. However, your logic is flawed. You are injured, and exaggerating your wounds by sitting on a cold floor would be most irrational. I however am Vulcan and require little sleep or rest."

Curiosity and concern were radiating off him in equal intensity, and while the first left the young woman with mild exasperation, the latter at least she could comprehend.

 

Sakarra pulled the heavy overcoat closer around her slender frame and still just so managed to stave off the urge to shiver. Logical to assume the temperatures had to be the same as everywhere else on the ship, adjusted for the comfort of the majority of species, and the cold she felt had little to do with it. And still, she half expected for her breath to become visible in the air that felt frigid on her warm skin. Well, there was one minor remedy.

With slow, deliberate motions she released the heavy coils bound at the nape of her neck and methodically pulled out pins, freeing a veritable curtain of black curls. It would help. Not much, but perhaps enough.

 

The gaze out of those startlingly green eyes had not left her for a second, and at last, the young Vulcan relented. "What will you have me say, ambassador? That my race is as fallible as any other? I should think that goes without saying, though perhaps we revel too much in the impression others may have of us. The indestructible Vulcan, impossible to compromise, unable to lie and certainly above any pettiness."

Mild though her voice was, it held a carefully concealed edge to it, a mere spark of the flaming anger that had driven her earlier.

"I am here for breaking and entering, theft, assault and ordering fellow officers to assist me in those illegal activities, Mr Lamont. And although Starfleet will find it barely worth mentioning, I am also guilty of committing treason against Vulcan."

 

Ian was not beyond sensing the subtle cues in the commander's voice.  His recent sparring with her in the holodeck had allowed him to better tune his perceptions although they were anywhere from perfect.  He detected the edge in her voice yet to him it was nearly sub-atomic.  He was scarcely aware of it at all yet its detection had to indicate something far deeper and profound running behind that well maintained wall of emotional control.

 

Lamont said nothing.  He was stunned by what he had heard and worse it saddened him to hear it.  However he would not pity her.  It was unlike the commander to do anything without carefully considering the outcome and whatever her reasons they must have been well grounded in logic or based upon facts.

 

He stood and moved to the bunk retrieving a blanket. Turning he knelt before the Vulcan officer and this time did not seek her permission before draping the material around her frame. The cool air of the brig was a mild irritant for him however he knew the cold was most likely much more uncomfortable for a Vulcan whose home planet was arid and hot.

 

Gazing into her dark eyes he laid a light hand upon her shoulder.  There was something about her which Lamont could feel was wrong.  She looked tired perhaps disappointed?  He wasn't sure if he was interpreting the faint impressions he was seeing if there was really anything there to see at all.

 

"Sakarra, do not feel obligated to speak to satisfy my curiosities.  As a human I have them in addition to trouble hiding them, but you should not feel obligated to reveal more than you wish simply to appease me. Some people aboard regard me as foolish however one thing I have learned dealing with many species is that all of them deal with adversity in different and varied ways.  You must feel free to deal with yours on your terms not mine.  Sometimes the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many if you will excuse the axiom.

 

As you have so selflessly helped me in times of need I stand ready to do the same.  However I also respect your need for privacy and I will speak no more of this matter unless asked.

 

Da-tor na'ein-wak tik t'etek svi'sha'ha'kiv na'ein-veh.  If you wish to talk I am here commander."

 

Lamont rose and took a seat opposite her closing his eyes if only to afford her some sense of privacy.  There was none to be had in the small room but it was the best he could offer.

 

 

She felt the blanket being draped around her and was about to make a mildly chiding comment, but the unexpected touch was enough to derail the young Vulcan and she blinked with mild bemusement. It was meant to be comforting, that much she could guess, but when she lifted her face to meet the ambassador's intense green gaze, there was something … more.

Compassion, perhaps, it was one of the things humans seemed to have in abundance, but … before Sakarra could shift her focus and try to discern anything about Lamont's behavior that could give her a clue as to why the man was not taken aback by both her cold exterior and her rather harsh words, he surprised her yet again.

 

Always so exquisitely polite, be it while a turbolift was about to fall and take them along with it, or in the middle of a holding cell they shared for different, but equally .. unusual reasons. Reasons that would possibly make seasoned JAG veterans pull out a fair amount of hair.

Even in her emotionally drained state, Sakarra had to appreciate the inherent humor of this situation.

"Nafai-tor it t'du k'itarya." A milder, almost warm undertone was echoing in the young Vulcan's low murmur, and she pulled the blanket closer around herself.

Foolish? No, certainly not.

But it was unfortunate that the good ambassador seemed to have a unique talent to collide with the CO more often than not. Her black eyes turned deeply thoughtful as she subjected the quiet human to deep scrutiny, for once employing the skills of her foremother to not only look but … see.

 

Yes.

He would relish the games which she despised, and he would be good at it. If one could give him a purpose, a reason to abandon his erratic behavior and focus on something he might deem worthwhile … he would in fact be exceedingly good at it.

Sakarra had no doubt she would not hesitate to make use of such a willing and convenient ally. Nor would the Matriarch object to having him … nudged into the periphery of her influence. It was reasonable – a chance for mutual benefit always was.

And still …

Even looking at Lamont with that calm, calculating regard went against the young Vulcan's very being. What a good thing indeed that the Head of one's House need not choose her successor from her own line, considering both possible candidates were woefully unsuitable in T'Leia's case.

 

Alternating between dry humor and exasperation, Sakarra settled for a compromise. Rather than skillfully set him on a path which he might eagerly take even without being prompted, she would simply employ the fighter pilot's directness.

 

"In fact, Mr Lamont, there is something we might discuss. Far as we may be from home and politics, it seems at least some of it has … caught up with Charon."

Even Sakarra's posture had changed, from the quiet, meditative air of a resting Vulcan to the terrible calm of a most alert and … observing one.

  

Ian opened a single eye at the Vulcan's words and focused it upon the Vulcan officer.  Unexpected such words were.  Most unusual as well.  Politics?  She had suddenly and unexpectedly garnered his attention however something puzzled him.  She had admitted to committing some vague offenses which had resulted in her arrest.  Lamont knew enough about Vulcan society to know that one in her position would likely feel deep shame and regret on a most private and personal level.  However the mere mention of politics indicated there was perhaps much more to the commander than he knew. Fascinating.  Quite fascinating indeed.

 

[To be continued …]

Ambassador Ian Lamont

And

Lt. Commander Sakarra Tyrax

 

[USS Charon] SD241002.27 || Joint BackLog "Charon Prison Blues" Part I || Amb Ian Lamont, Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax

<<Takes place right after the Vulcan is delivered to the brig (obviously)   and before the Marine learns what she and her merry band of thieves have done>>

 

 

[USS Charon, Brig]

 

Lamont sighed leaning against the wall of his cell.  The small confines of the cold room had become his unofficial quarters aboard the Charon as of late.  There was little to do except quietly reflect and meditate.  He placed a hand upon his arm which still ached with a dull pain.  The medics had again taken care of his injuries within the brig per the captain's orders.

 

He couldn't understand the captain.  One minute she was rational and almost logical and the next she was as violent and unpredictable as a drunken Klingon whose honor had been insulted.  Rehu was capable of generosity and affection, her marriage to a human was fact of such of thing as difficult as it was to fathom, yet she could be as vicious and deadly as an ancient Earth Velociraptor.  How her husband had survived such a union was baffling to the ambassador.

 

For such a person of severe and conflicting impulses he himself was torn between respecting and reviling her along with a propensity to wring her neck on occasion.  She was the most obstinate individual he knew other than perhaps himself.  However she was also exceptional at her job despite her harshness.  He would give her that.  There were actually many things he admired in brief periods when she wasn't throwing a tantrum like a child, shoving her boot up his rear, or issuing orders in delicate situations that flew in the face of common sense or normal diplomacy.

 

Ian shut his eyes trying to find some tiny glint of reason behind her order to have him detained yet again after what had occurred.  He could see some tiny spec of reason in her decision, but the punishment seemed in great excess.  He had not committed any real crime and in fact had tried to make amends for past mistakes yet despite such things he found himself once again confined in the brig.

 

Sitting here alone he wondered if it were even possible to work with her or salvage any semblance of a professional relationship.  If he avoided her he would be doing a disservice to her, the ship, its crew, and the Federation – not to mention himself.  How could he offer her advice when she seldom, if ever, sought his council?  If she would not listen to him must he endure the brig at their every encounter?

 

When two people were true to what they believed then perhaps such things were unavoidable.  He had no idea what she believed, but he at least knew his own beliefs.  If the brig was his new home as a result of him performing his duties then so be it.  At least in here he would know he had tried and failed.  Staying out of the captain's path and doing nothing in the comfort of his quarters would perhaps be far worse than his current predicament.  He couldn't live with himself.  If Rehu felt the need to keep him under lock and key then he would take solace in the fact that this is where she wanted him.  If his confinement was somehow a benefit to the ship or perhaps even to her then he would just have to swallow his pride and accept it.  He couldn't beat her and it would seem even his attempts to join her, as they saying went, had met with failure.

 

What was an ambassador to do?

 

Reflecting on such things, Lamont's eye snapped open when the doors to the brig opened.  Listening to every muted voice he strained in silence to capture their words which provided some momentary distraction from the silence around him.

 

He heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Commander Tyrax escorted by several guards.  Was she here to pay him another visit?

 

No. He couldn't place it. While her expression was as blank as ever, Ian just felt something was out of place. He had no explanation.

 

His suspicions were ever present when the forcefield holding him was lowered and she stepped inside as the guards reactivated the field and left. He quickly stood wincing momentarily as his leg yelled at him for the quick movement.  It too was still healing after his encounter with the mercenary which oddly enough was only a bulkhead away.  Not a comforting thought, however the presence of the commander was a far more pressing matter.

 

"Commander Tyrax", Ian said softly.  "What do I owe the pleasure?"

 

"Ambassador." The young Vulcan inclined her head in greeting, her face the same mask of marble it had been for several hours now. "My apologies for disturbing your rest at this hour."

Gazing at the interior of the cold cell and then the obvious discomfort on Lamont's face, she gestured for him to please sit back down before she settled on the carpet herself.

 

So cold. She should have felt satisfaction, or at least a sense of peace for great wrongs having been righted, perhaps greater wrongs averted. But there was only weariness, and a dull, vague sense of pain. Folding her fingers in her lap, Sakarra knew she was the perfect image of serenity – until one looked into dark, clouded eyes and knew to read the signs. The burning fury that had been denied a target had left her empty, but it was the losses she would still have to face that weighed on her soul like a millstone.

And still, … it was right the way it was.

 

"I am gratified you see my company as a pleasure, Mr Lamont." Her voice, melodious and betraying her emotionally drained state only by an unusually soft timbre, floated through the confines of the small room like a desert breeze. "Especially since it is likely I shall remain for some time."

 

Lamont clicked the back of his teeth together; a habit when he was in deep thought.  Something was different about the commander.  She did not look any different nor were her words dissimilar to others yet something..something was out of place.  Alarm bells were sounding that something was amiss or was it?  Were his instincts wrong?

 

"Your company is always valued and welcomed commander", Lamont replied.  "Is there something you wish to speak about?  What topic do you wish to discuss which would consume so much of your time

 

"No discussion, ambassador." At last, she lifted her face to the fair haired male sitting on the bunk. Had he truly not understood the meaning of the security guards bringing her here? No, it was more logical to assume he was trying to be polite. Whatever some people's opinions concerning Lamont and his often ill advised actions, the man knew how to observe and draw conclusions.

 

Though in all honesty Sakarra did not know what he would make of the fact she had been escorted by such an impressive number of guards – it would have been sufficient to spark her own humor, being deemed a prisoner worthy of such an entourage, but there was little amusement left in her. Except perhaps the sardonic, dry acknowledgement of the odd jokes the universe loved to play.

"I am in fact here for the same reason as you. To await charges."

There were subtle cracks appearing in her mask of stone, betraying little more than a bone-deep weariness that owed nothing to physical exertion and everything to silent grief. Yet it would hardly do to burden the injured, and as the Vulcan well knew, unsettled human by showing any overt signs.

 

"What do you mean?  Arrested", Lamont said barely managing to cloak the surprise in his voice.  His suspicions were confirmed.  What possible actions had the helmsman taken to land her here?  It did not seem possible that someone of Tyrax's intelligence and adherence to duty could ever land her on the wrong end of regulations.  Lamont was almost having difficulty believing such a thing if he was not looking at her with his own eyes.  For all he knew he was this ship's maverick, undisciplined officer.  He knew why he was here and accepted it – partially, but Sakarra?  If this was somehow Rehu's doing then the captain was even colder and more backstabbing that he ever thought possible.

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but rapidly closed it.  Vulcans were a private people and no doubt if the commander was in some type of trouble it was none of his business.  Inquiring further of the matter would be both rude if not also intrusive.  He remembered his own agitation sitting within these walls as others stared inside.  He couldn't begin to imagine what was running through her mind at this moment.

 

"Commander…Sakarra, I shall not inquire further unless you wish to speak of this matter.  It is none of my concern and you must want to rest and meditate on matters.  I apologize that I have nothing to offer you, but the brig is not exactly what I consider luxury accommodations.  Instead I shall offer you my silence.  If you feel the need to talk about any subject I am here."

 

Lamont stood stretching for a moment.  He wasn't tired.  Sitting in a cell all day left one with ample energy.

 

"If you require rest please use the bunk.  I have no use for it for the foreseeable future.  It is only logical that we share what few accommodations are available.  I will insist that we do so.  I cannot have you sleeping on the cold floor nor would I permit such a thing."

 

 

[To be continued …]

Ambassador Ian Lamont

And

Lt. Commander Sakarra Tyrax

 

[USS Charon] SD241002.27 - Joint Plot Log - Captain Shiarrael Rehu & Commander Eithne Katris-Falcon

[USS Charon, Ready Room]

After not finding her in her quarters, Eithne came to the conclusion that the best place to find the Captain was in her Ready Room.

A fine place to find her, for when she was about to ring the chime to the Ready Room she heard voices from within, voices that did not seem happy at all. So, instead of intrude on the Captain and the persons in which she was meeting with, she waited. From what she was listening to it did not seem to be a very pleasant meeting, one she did not want to interrupt at least.

Relieving the crew member who had the Bridge, she waited. It would not be a long wait, for only a few moments later she heard the persons leave and be escorted to the turbo lift.

Now it was her turn. She had no idea exactly what sort of mood the Captain was going to be in when she rang the chime to the Ready Room, but she rang it anyways. For the information she had for the Captain would put her in a fouler mood anyways.

"Enter."  Shiarrael said and when the young commander stepped inside her office she was now standing after the tense meeting with T'Pelar.  Her back faced Eithne as she stared at the stars, one hand was folded against the edge of her desk, and the other hand casually caressed the back of her neck.  She knew the strain was getting to her- old wounds were now protesting the stress of the situation.  "Commander- are you aware of our present predicament?"  Shiarrael asked.

" I have a slight understanding to the situation..."

Shiarrael nodded "well, in either case, we have been lied to."  Vulcans?  Liars?  She wanted to laugh- how long had the Vulcans fooled the humans into believing they were utopia incarnate?  The more she thought about it the more she came to realize how gullible humans were.  Vulcans- they were a calculating species.  She sighed and turned around "we are going to find this Vulcan ship- apparently it possesses technology the Vulcans have developed to create a stable wormhole.  It is very precious to them" her nostrils flared as she took in a deep breath "so precious that they have put us in a difficult situation.  I want to destroy, no, I will destroy the Temep-Shar.  Bring us to yellow alert and have all departments prepare for possible combat.  We will hold a full departmental staff briefing in two hours.  Please ensure that all departments are…" her voice trailed off as she gripped the edge of her forehead feeling a sharp pain coursed through her temple.  Shiarrael winced momentarily and after a few sconds to recover she smiled at Eithne "make sure all department chiefs are aware of the meeting."

"Aye Sir..." Eithne nodded as she took a moment to watch the Captain carefully. Taking note of the white knuckles she had from gripping the side of the desk and the slight wince that she saw from the usual composed Romulan. " Captain? Are you ok?" She asked, concerned for the woman before her.

"I am-" Shiarrael gritted her teeth and then shook her head "no, I am not fine.  This entire mission has been a ruse by the Vulcans to get this weapon back.  Now I wonder for what reason have so many died?  It has all been a lie.  Starfleet has sent a JAG Captain to question my every decision.  Ambassador Lamont and many of the crew still have little respect for my authority after a year and the Marines I marooned were-" She paused and then sighed "no commander, I am not okay, but I will survive."

She listened carefully to the Captain's words and nodded ever so slowly when she finished. " I can see how one would be frustrated. You had to make many hard decisions regarding many different matters in your reign as Captain of this Vessel. But... If it helps at all... I agree with everyone of them. You have done well to build this ship and crew into what she is today and no one need complain. Not Starfleet or anyone else for that matter." A soft smile ended her words.

"I do not regret my decisions Commander but these situations do not ease the burden of this command on me."  Shiarrael rounded her desk and sat down "but that is besides the point- right now we must focus on surviving the coming tempest.  If the foolish Vulcans do not get us killed looking for their precious ship my people will kill us out of aggravation."

A nod came swiftly, " It is good to never regret your decisions." She paused before she continued. " I am sure the outcome will be much better for us then the Vulcans. - For now, I will do as you asked and arrange for a meeting in two hours of all departments." Another nod followed.

"Good.  Dismissed." 

Eithne gave a respectful nod and turned on her heal. Next moment she was gone from the Ready Room and giving the orders to those on the Bridge. " Yellow Alert!" She paused and looked to the Comms officer. " Open and Channel to the entirety of the ship..."

With the channel open the orders were given. " All Department Chiefs are to report to the Observation Lounge for a Briefing... All department heads are required to be there. The meeting will be held in two hours."

[End]

Captain Shiarrael Rehu
Commanding Officer
USS Charon

&

Commander Eithne Katris-Falcon
Executive Officer
USS Charon

[USS Charon] SD:241002.27 || Joint Duty Log || CSEC, ASEC. Cmdr Dylan Marcus & Lt. Acel'a

=/\=Security Office=/\= Dylan had just returned from the meeting with Sakarra and the captain. he was not in the slightest happy that the crew of this ship were being used as pawns in some game between the Vulcans and the Romulans. It was his job now to make sure that this ship stayed in one piece if and when it came to a battle with the Romulans. He had assembled his team in order to inform them of the situation. Lieutenant Acel'a had received word of a meeting, called by Commander Marcus and was there, in short order, as she was not all that far, being just two decks above the Security Office deck. She took her seat and waited for the others. "I have asked you all here to inform you of the latest development in our 'mission' "He said with a scowl. "It seems that our good friends the Vulcans have decided to play games with our lives. Our mission to this area of space is not to map space, but to locate a highly experimental Ship called the Temep' Shar. This ship is capable of creating wormholes in space. Needless to say the Tal'Shiar would like to get their hands on it. That being said, It will be our job to make sure that; if boarded we keep the Romulans honest." Acel'a groaned. "Why couldn't they send another vessel, if I may ask?" asked Acel'a, somewhat miffed. "Because sending a battle cruiser would draw unwanted attention. A science vessel would not." He said simply. "Though I doubt highly that the Vulcans expected us to be returning home." "Lately, it seems nobody expects, or appreciates us anymore. I am beginning to feel we have become nothing more than cannon fodder, to quote and old term," said Acel'a. She was growing weary of always going into hostile situations, some of which were provoked by their own Captain, in her opinion. "No arguments here." Dylan said with a smile. "As it stands now, there is a good chance that we may see some combat. So I want to make sure we have our bases covered. Runo, I want you to start seeing to the deployment of the Staff to all decks. I want the Klingons posted around engineering, the bridge and the computer cores." He paused for a moment. He was still angry at the situation. "Commander Falcon, I will be leaving you in charge of the teams on Charon. I will be heading two teams to the Temep'Shar to rescue the Vulcans.  Acel'a, you're with me." "Good. I hope to make a difference, provided someone doesn't use my pantograph, for target practice," quipped Acel'a, chuckling. She had to make light of that, as she knows just how painful any damage to it, can be. "If all goes well, then we should only have to deal with Vulcan stoicism." He replied. "That is almost as bad." True...Very true. I've seen Vulcan stares so icy, I almost got frostbite!" quipped Acel'a, snickering. "Imagine our Vulcan friends when they get out of the Comedy marathon I put them in." he said referring to the creative solution to the over stuffed brig issue they had. =/\= End Log =/\= Commander Dylan Marcus Chief Security Officer USS Charon Lieutenant Acel'a Asst Security Officer USS Charon

---

Not using Hotmail on your phone? Why not? Get it now.

[USS Charon] SD241002.27 | LtCmdr Calhoun | CEO

Main Engineering – Deck 8

 

Quentin had been busy with his department over the past weeks repairing and modifying the ship to get the most out of it. This of course included a complete redesign of Main Engineering and it had to be said… he was happy with the new look. Several new consoles had been added which increased productivity and the layout was now slightly different. The 'pool table' had been upgraded to include holo-projectors and the stools around it also meant it doubled as the briefing area for the department. The most exciting addition was the sleek transparent panel that separated the main engineering section from the raised pool table area. While aesthetically pleasing it was also a motion-controlled computer. There was a dock next to it which allowed specially designed PADDs to be slotted it transferring the information to the screen. It could then be moved around by motion control and even 'thrown' over to the 'Pool Table's holographic centre making it easier to view if for example the image was a 3d rendering or other technical drawing or image.

 

Throughout the ship minor changes had been made to the way in which the power was channelled through the EPS conduits and relays to ensure that the network was more efficient than before and each main system had several power back-ups. There had also been some room re-designs as per crew requests and overall the ship had evolved from the stock Luna class which had left space dock over a year ago to the ship she was now. Quentin had just submitted his final report of the repairs and updates and upgrades to the Engineering Corp and to the Charon Command Team. With that done he hoped to settle down and continue his research into temporal physical displacement of matter as per the successful movement of the planet which now seemed so long ago. Sadly however he was interrupted by an Ensign who walked in with a stack of PADDs. "Sir, this is the information you requested pertaining to the development of the impulse thrusters – sorry for the delay, the library system was acting up until yesterday…" "Thank you Ensign" Quentin said cutting the man off as he indicated a space on his once uncluttered new desk. The Ensign set them down and departed leaving Quentin alone with the entire library's collection on impulse manifold engineering manuals and flight manoeuvrability journals.

He sighed heavily unzipped his duty jacket and threw it on the back of his chair before loosening his collar and rolling up the sleeves of his yellow undershirt. He much preferred the alternate waistcoat look while working, much more comfortable. He ordered himself a black coffee from the replicator and settled down in his chair to begin work on the final, yet possibly largest upgrade to the Charon. He sighed and started to wade through the mountain of PADDs that had just been delivered to him.

Lieutenant Commander Quentin Calhoun

Chief Engineering Officer

USS Charon

[USS Charon] SD241002.23 - Joint BACK Log - Captain Shiarrael Rehu & Lieutenant Nathanial Doyle

=/\= Deck 1 - Ready Room =/\=
 
Nathanial approached the Ready room doors, he pressed the chime but instead of waiting for a response proceeded inside. Spotting the captain at her desk, he continued his stride up to the desk.
"What the hell is going on? What are we thinking? Putting a untested and unknown program into the ship, its already accessed all sections of the Sensor pod, god knows what its going to do! For god's sake Captain, the sensor pod, heck the ship is very delicate, and... and...  and! I wasn't even consulted on the installation and effect of the scientific subsystems and most importantly the Sensor pod!" He took a breath and paused.
 
Fwap!  The loud sound of Shiarrael slamming her PADD onto the desk reverted through the ready room.  "Lieutenant" she looked up slowly and scowled at her science officer "I suggest you walk out the ready room, reenter, and address me properly- unless you wish to find yourself yelling at the brig wall."  Her eyes glanced at her chrono "you have ten seconds before my forgiveness for your behavior wears off…nine…"

Nathanial stood defiant listening to the Captain count down, he knew that he was out of line with storming in, but also felt that the whole debacle of this AI program was out of line as well, as such he was torn between his convictions and the upcoming wrath of his Captain.
Seven....Six....
 
His mind began to way the consequences, would he still be heard if he walked out and back in, or would he be looked at less for not standing up for what he believed in.
 
Four...Three..
 
His mind finally convincing him that he could still talk a case for the situation if he walked out he gave off a slight huff to show he did not want to back down, but she did have rank, and walked out the door.
 
Turning at the door he pressed the door chime and awaited his Captains reply.

"Enter."  Shiarrael said, calmly, with a slight grin enjoying itself on her mouth.  When Nathanial reentered she relaxed "what is the problem Lieutenant, and speak slowly."

Nathanial took a deep breath before starting. "A unknown AI program has been installed into the ship computers gaining full access to all systems, including all science sub-systems as well as the Sensor Pod. I was not consulted in this situation, and i feel.." he paused thinking of a word to fully describe how he was feeling, but in the end could only come up with something simple. "...insignificant, to the whole situation. I garner that you picked me for this position due to hopefully me displaying the knowledge and gut for the job..."

"You mean the SAVANT?"  Shiarrael asked- she had heard of the program which had arrived with the Vulcans.  It unsettled her but she did not see it as something to get worked up about "it arrived with the Vulcans and is intended to improve the ability of the science department to analyze and catalogue data- unless you feel that you are so skilled that you do not need the assistance of computers then I must wonder why you are so agitated?"

"Why am I so agitated? Because my Captain did not even consider that someone so skilled wasn't consulted in regards to the potential outcomes of such a program. I mean Captain, not even a memo. Am I just a poster boy for the Science Department, while you call all the shots, or did you actually put me here due to my skill at running the department. The issue here is not the installation of the program, but how it was conducted."
 
Nathanial took a deep breath, he knew he was on the border of letting his emotions take control, he was unsure why he felt this way, maybe it was because he had been trusted with a responsibility, and so easily was that responsibility shown to be null and void.

"Computer systems fall under Operations and Engineering.  Why do I need to consult you Lieutenant?  The SAVANT was brought by the Vulcans and they insisted that the computer system would aid them during their time aboard.  I was hoping Mister Dicari would have vetted the system before full implementation however he has since went on hunger strike due to Engineering refusing to realign his new Operations console."  She frowned "why are you really here Lieutenant?  Certainly you are not offering a complaint because of an AI program that will aid your department?"

Nathanial paused at the question. Was it just the AI program, or was there something else? He had been through a lot lately, they all had... he considered this point, there was something, an inclining, he was never one to chase praise or compliment, but something about the last few months, and the lack of direct contact with the captain... it was all coming together, he wasn't sure exactly but he knew that he needed to spend some time with in the captains presence.
 
"True the Computer system falls under Operations and Engineering" He conceded "I am on the command team though, and something that would affect science so, even in a positive way... Well... I feel I should have been informed" He finished.

"I will keep this under advisement for the future Lieutenant- is this all?"  Shiarrael smiled, the crew on Charon was different but unique. 

Nathanial was unsure if that was all, but he was also unsure if that was not all. "Yes sir"
He answered quickly.
 
"Good."  Shiarrael gestured to the door as he eyes returned to the PADD "you may leave."
 
Nathanial stood up and saluted before heading out of the office, he was unsure on exactly what had happened, but knew that something still did not feel right in his gut.

[End]

Captain Shiarrael Rehu
Commanding Officer
USS Charon

&

Lieutenant Nathanial Doyle
Chief Science Officer
USS Charon

[Trek Universe] SD241002.22 - Trek IC Post | RSE | - "The Pillar Crumbles"

[Tal'Shiar Citadel:  Central Core, ch'Rihan]

He was beginning to spend more and more time in the room.  It had everything he needed and no one bothered him there.  Those unfortunate Colonels that tried to bug the entryways were always finding monitoring equipment destroyed in some new way shape or form.  Everything in their investigations pointed towards faulty material, even if the material had been personally inspected by the Colonels to be top of the line equipment.

It amused him to keep them in the dark like this.  They knew that a General had taken to occupying the central core of the citadel again, but they could not tell who it was.  They were good, yes they were quite good, he doubted that anyone but himself and his associates could have kept the Colonels in the dark for so long.  The room itself was magnificent.  Rumors abounded across the Agency and in citizenry of just what the Generals kept to themselves.  Some of the rumors indicated a den of inequity rivaling that of any Orion Red Light District.  Other's said it was simply a massive repository for knowledge and that anything could be learned about anyone in there.  The truth itself was far simpler and far more eloquent.  Past the impossibly large and well guarded doors was a simple cylindrical room, kept green through artificial means.  In the center were three objects, one was an ancient tree, its seeds brought with the one of the followers of S'Task from Vulcan during the great exodus.  The other was a pool of ancient fish again from the Rihannsu's ancient homeword.  Those were more recently acquired, around the time of the formation of the Tal'Shiar.  A stone bench sat off to the side of these two magnificent sights for quiet contemplation.  It was here that the General sat and thought.

It had been a very long time in coming. Frankly the General wondered if he would ever be forced into this position at all or if it would resolve itself on its own.  He sat there in silent meditation taking in a deep breath every few minutes as he maintained a level of calm and composure.  Eventually though the thought that had been growing in the back of his head came to fruition.  They could wait no longer, this current instability had to stop.  Things were beginning to grow out of control and that threatened their mission.  The Romulan way of life must continue.  Deep down that was the only one goal of the Tal'Shiar.  Everything else was simply a means to that end.

To that end, it was only the Agency that knew the truth and how best to execute it.  They held no ties to families or to anything that might bind them to outside distractions.  It was only they who were truly capable of dictating how the Romulan way of life must continue.

The idea that one political faction or the other had the truth in any matter was folly.  None of them had the truth on their side.  Yes occasionally they blundered onto the truth after grasping about in the dark.  That was what had happened to the AAnikh Clan and its many decedents.  They had stumbled upon to the truth in the past and they had been riding it to the centers of power on chi'Rihan ever since.  The Zorek Clan on the other hand were still groping about in the dark like lost children, scared of what the future might bring and so they wish to lash out at it.

The General rose up from the stone bench, his black uniform neatly pressed with no visable rank insignia as he moved to one of the walls on the curved wall.  As he approached the wall slowly disengaged and a portion of it moved outward and up.  Inside was listening and broadcast equipment.  State of the art, beyond anything else in the Empire, at his fingertips.  He could send a message so encrypted that it would take the best minds of the Federation decades to even begin to attempt to crack the code.  However that was not what the General would even use it for.  Instead he sent a trasmission out in the open with no encryption.  The relay points would carry his message across the Empire in a matter of seconds.

"Autumn leaves," was all the message said.

The policy was known as "Open Door" in the Agency.  Missions like this one were known only to two or possibly three people and could be initated on the recieving of a codeword.  To anyone else listening in to the code word the message was simply two words or background chatter.

But to the intented target, the message had a much different meaning.

[ch'Havran AAnikh Estates]

It was around three in the morning when the plan was slated to begin.  In the morning hours a dark shadowed figure was beamed through the supposedly impenatrable walls into a back room off of the bedroom of the Praetor.  The man stayed perfectly still as he adjusted to his surroundings, he took stock of weither or not he had been discovered, finding his insertion to be without any problems, he opened the door slowly from the side room and moved over towards his target.  Of all of the men, women, and aliens that he had killed or been sent to kill over the century that he had been in the agency, this was a first.

This one called for compassion.

The method of execution was even gentle by most standards.  The Agent took a glass of water that he was told would be nearby the Praetor's bed and stirred in the contents of a small white package.  The white powder inside dissolved without trace from odor or taste.  When the Agent was satisfied he then leaned over and shook the aged and now infirm Praetor gently, to wake up.

What went through the old Rihannsu's mind, when he was awakened in the middle of the night to find one of his countrymen dressed in a black trenchcoat, was something that the Agent would wonder for the rest of his days.  He could see the suprise in the old Praetor's face and eyes, the narrowed calculating look that had bested so many peers over the years.  Finally there was the exhale of a large breath that had been heen held in.

Acceptance.

The Praetor could see the rank insignia in the dim light of the outside lights.  He was a Colonel in the Tal'Shiar.  That was what had caused the acceptance.  The Praetor could not even speak now, could not even cry out for help.  The Colonel removed one of the black gloves that he wore gently taking the aged hand in his own before he revealed one of his many gifts that had helped him in his missions over the years.

'Praetor Aehkhifv i-Latasalaem tr'AAnikh.  You have given centuries of your life to the service of the Romulan way of life.  You have seen the rise and fall of Empreror's, Republics, and the glory of our people restored to the ways of the past while tempering our passions to avoid the mistakes of the past,' the Colonel said over the telepathic link he had so briefly established.  He was an Elementa, one of the Wind.  'Your service is nearly unparalleled in modern times...  But times change.  Disorder is threatening our people, chaos in our leadership threatens our very way of life.  It is time for a new generation to handle the mantle of leadership, one that shares the same ideas that you did.'  He let it sink in what the Colonel was saying to the dying Praetor.

'Are you ready to preform your last service for the Empire and our people?' The Colonel asked as he withdrew his hand and severed the link.  The old Praetor nodded his head once, slowly as it was the only way he could move after his massive stroke.  The glass was offered to the Praetor who took it in his hand and with the slightest hint of a smile raised it in saluted to the Colonel before the drank its contents.  The Colonel withdrew the glass standing back watching as the Praetor fell into the last sleep of his life before he was enveloped in the green quantum mist of the transporters.

[Tal'Shiar Citadel Central Ring, 2 minutes later]

The General clipped a single leaf from the ancient tree there in the middle of the green room contemplating just how next to trim the tree when suddenly the side wall began to make a low audible beep.  Still contemplating his next move the General moved silently across the grass until the wall opened and he peered inside and saw the listening device.  Several messages had been acquired recently.  Many of them Agency, some of them Galae messages.  One in particular stood out to him.

"Green," was all the message said.

The General smiled broadly.  He looked at the tree one final time and then back to his pruning sheers for a moment before he placed them into his pocket.  That would be all for now, there wouldn't need to be more pruning for the time being.  Things were back on the right rack...

The Grand Praetor was found the following morning, dead.  His doctors had missed a growing heart condition with all of the focus being so much on his recent stroke.  His heart gave out in the middle of the night and he died in peace and in no pain.

[Latasalaem ch'Havran, Ahaefvthe Estate]

A gentle morning breeze rustled the curtains through the open window.  Argelian carefully reached out and caught the velvet fabric and tied it securely.  Casually leaning against the stone frame he watched Eisn rise above the far hills.  Just above the glowing radiance, ch'Rihan's a pale face loomed in the warming violet sky.  The rusty orange sunlight bathed his face distorting its natural olive into a deep bronze giving him a likeness to one of the old statues that lined the halls of the senate.  Next to him, on a small table, the crackling of ice could be heard as the sunlight poured through a glass of water.  Argelian picked up the small glass allowing droplets of condensation to fall to the floor as he brought it to lips and sipped the cold liquid.  Setting the glass down he closed his eyes and inhaled the air- it was cool and crisp, lacking the heaviness of Ch'Rihan's own deluged atmosphere.

A slight rattling caught his attention and his eyes snapped open.  Next to him glass and table began vibrating as a loud hum in the distance turned into a familiar roar.  The house shook noticeably but Argelian remained still as a bomber decloaked just above the courtyard and extended its landing struts.  When it touched down he watched the back ramp lower and several individuals exit.  With the sun to their backs however they appeared simply to be dark silhouettes.  Down the adjacent hallway he could hear the hurried footsteps of the servants as they rushed to greet the visitors properly.  Picking up the glass of water Argelian took another sip as three more silhouettes rushed out.  It took the group a minute to finish proper introductions before they were finally led to meet him.  He could hear the boot-steps echoing through the hall but did not budge his attention from the rising sun, which was now slightly obscured by the bulky bomber rudely staining his courtyard.

"Lord Verelan."  His servant tr'Jinal addressed him and Argelian finally twisted around to see his visitors.  "EnRiov t'Knei and Ael'Riov tr'Huani."  Jinal finished and bowed.  The officers followed suit.

Argelian recognized both of them easily.  He lifted his hand in a dismissal gesture towards the servants and had them close the doors so he and his officers could speak in privacy "you could not have contacted me through the secure communication net?"  His tone was stale as he addressed them "bringing such a craft here- you have startled the livestock.  The hlai are easily unsettled."

"Forgive the intrusion Galae'EnRiov."  T'Knei dipped her head again "however we are merely following your orders that any news about the Grand Praetor should not be sent over the communication net- secure or unsecure."

Argelian felt a cold chill seep into his spine.  "AAnikh is dead?"  He asked- it was a simple question and it elicited a simple response.  T'Knei nodded her head confirming his suspicion.  Ever since AAnikh had the stroke rendering him both unable to walk and speak it had become all but certain that his time was numbered.  In the intervening period Argelian had personally headed the process of preparing for the transition.  Although he had mentally prepared himself numerous times for the news it still caused a great deal of sorrow.  He inhaled deeply and composed himself "return to the bomber, I will be there shortly."

The pair nodded and left the room leaving him alone.  "Lord AAnikh."  Argelian turned around and stared into the blinding brightness of Eisn.  He gripped the curtains and wept silently while obscured from scrutiny.  Tr'AAnikh had been more than a friend- he was a second father.  

[AAnikh Estate]

It had been a quit ride- there was no flitter traffic to be scene as they made their way to the AAnikh estate on the other side of Latasalaem.  When the bomber touched down Argelian's deputy, Shiarkek, had already arrived and was waiting.  When he exited the bomber the younger officer caught him in stride "Galae'EnRiov I have done as you have asked.  All communications from Eisn are being jammed for the moment.  Gai'Shian troops are being positioned around ch'Rihan and ch'Havran to keep calm once the announcement is made.  Our forces along the Klingon and Federation neutral zones are also being increased.  Should either dare to use this event to their advantage they will regret it dearly."

The Klingon and Federation did not concern him- neither would be so stupid.  He simply nodded his head at Shiarkek "good work."  At the entrance to the large estate tr'Merrok, AAnikh's personal physician stood in vigil, when Argelian approached the elderly physician bowed his head "forgive me Argelian.  I failed him."

"Was it a painful death?"  Argelian looked at Merrok- the heated exchange of their last meeting not forgotten.

"No, he died in his sleep."  Merrok answered somberly.  The answer brought Argelian some comfort and he patted the physician on the shoulder before making his way into the estate.   When he stepped inside he could hear it- the sound of weeping echoing through the cavernous estate.  He slowly, followed by Shiarkek and t'Knei, made his way down the long and sullen hallways to AAnikhs bedchamber.  When he rounded the far corner he could see all of the servants kneeling down in the hallway facing AAnikh's chamber.  Many were weeping quietly others comforted them between tears.  Argelian slowly navigated his way through the crowd to the Praetor's room.  Shiarkek remained at the doorway as Argelian and t'Knei stepped in.

"He is peaceful."  T'Knei said quietly.  She walked up to the bed and slid a hand across the linens straightening a single wrinkle.  At the head of the bed the Praetor appeared to be in a peaceful slumber.  Argelian's steps became heavy as he approached the bed- finally unable to bear the weight he fell to his knees and leaned forward pressing his hand against the cold marble floors.  He gritted his teeth for a moment and then bowed his head so low that his forehead touched the cold marble and uttered "Lord AAnikh."  Behind him the servants followed suit and began chanting "hru'hfirh."  With a deep sigh Argelian pushed himself up and turned around leaving the room.  When he reached the door he looked at Shiarkek "send the announcement."

It is often said that history is a fluid thing- always changing.  We write history as we wish to see it.  History changes with us.  We create and we rewrite it to suit our needs.  I have always wondered what history will say of me when I have gone.   Will they see me as a fool or the old and tired man that I am?  Perhaps history will forget me all together- oh well.  In all my years I have learned that only one thing is really true in such a vast and uncertain universe: we live and we die. – From the memoirs of Aehkhifv i-Latasalaem tr'AAnikh, D' khaiell hel na stelam-a.

That day only a single transmission echoed out from Romulus- "Grand Praetor Aehkhifv i-Latasalaem tr'AAnikh has passed."

[End]

Tal'Shiar & NPCs written by Jake (Prescot)

Argelian & NPCs written by Thomas

Previous Post (for understanding): http://games.groups.yahoo.com/group/romulansenate/message/60