[USS Charon, Cargo Bay Two]
The sight was enough to make even the most placid of Vulcans ponder the virtue of pacifism at any cost. Herded together like cattle, Charon's crew was prodded and pushed, shackled by armored Gai'Shian whose faces made utterly clear they did not quite see the point of this exercise and would much prefer to be rid of those annoying creatures who glared at them, sullen and defiant.
No one knew where the Captain had been taken, or what had become of her children though it was hardly difficult to venture a guess. A good number of the crew arrived injured, dragged and tossed onto the deck with as much tender care as one might afford a pesky bug. Crates and barrels were cleared by means of some well placed disruptor shots – ah, the Klingons would fret, this had been an excellent vintage – and some of the Starfleet crew were arbitrarily picked to be transported away in swirls of sparkling green.
But even so, a pattern emerged.
Guarded warily by not only Gai'Shian but Galae security personnel, the Vulcans were subtly separated from the gaggle of angry Starfleet and outright furious Rihannsu who snarled and named the gloating Gai'Shian traitors – and worse. Was tr`Sahen not content to launch a mad, genocidal attack against his sire's homeworld, but would his desire for revenge make him take additional delight in killing these few directly?
Somehow, Sakarra found it not at all improbable.
A bleeding, hissing Caitian was secured firmly to a heavy crate, and leaning against a bulkhead was the still, unconscious form of a tall, bearded marine. Given his hatred for the Romulans, the slender dark eyed Vulcan standing quietly amidst grim V'Ket was not surprised Nikolai had chosen to fight. What was surprising however was the fact he was still alive. More marines arrived, and each in a fairly disheveled state. But the one her night black eyes kept searching for … remained unseen.
Prodded forward by a heavy disruptor rifle, Ian Lamont stumbled through the doors, briefly locking gazes with the silent Vulcan. Even under these circumstances, the good ambassador managed to maintain the air of a miffed aristocrat who was less displeased with being prisoner, but with the fact his captors had to be so … rude.
Presenting nothing but a perfectly unmoved face, a tranquil lake which keeps the secrets of it depths to itself, the raven haired Vulcan stood with hands clasped behind her back, resisting the ever growing urge to reach out with her mind and seek a familiar presence.
He was alive. Were it not so, she would know. For now, that had to be enough.
Because boiling under the veil of calm that became more difficult to maintain by the second was a fury more scorching than Nevasa herself, a temper ready to flare and screaming for blood.
At the very least, sensing her in such a state would be … distracting to the one who still seemed to elude the invaders. At worst, it would prompt an unwise reaction.
Unwilling to allow this to happen, Sakarra clung to cold reason as if to a lifeline, shielding her thoughts as relentlessly as the most stern Kolinahru.
For a moment, she caught T'Pelar's icy, teal gaze as the woman was jostled forward. What fine irony indeed that the scheming councilwoman should live to see the entropy unleashed by her own actions. What finer irony even, that it was the very being which she and her allies had manipulated and violated in such cruel, unforgivable ways was now the best hope for her … and the planet she had doomed.
Gazing silently at a bulkhead, Sakarra thought of the unique being safely ensconced in Charon's glittering network of pathways, this lively, stimulating, beautiful creature that even now was invisibly shimmering within the ship that was her home …
Hope is far from illogical. Especially when that hope is tied to an individual as resourceful as Savant, as stubbornly clinging to her own survival as she watched over the poor hapless organics she found so interesting. And if she could find but a few allies, a handful of the crew escaping in the general mayhem … there was a chance.
All Sakarra needed do was to buy them time, while somehow keeping the rest of the crew alive.
All she needed do was not give in to the wish to tear those smugly grinning invaders to pieces and dip her hands into the emerald streams of their blood, reveling in the scent of death like the Le-Matya after the hunt.
The impulse was nothing new. The persistence with which it kept reasserting itself … was.
To all the world, the small, graceful woman herded off to be transported away was just another Vulcan. Stoic, accepting, not even raising a brow at the armored soldiers towering over her but floating through their midst as if they were clouds of dust not worthy of acknowledgement.
'Yyaio' – Dead one, the Rihannsu called their estranged cousins.
What the Vulcans displayed was nothing less than the lifeless surface of a desert, lying still under a merciless sun.
People tend to forget that deserts kill.
[IRW Endless Sky]
The swirl and tingle of the transporter effect faded, and the group was greeted by more disruptor rifles aimed at them. Truly, one might almost constitute it flattery that a dozen unarmed Vulcans should prompt near twice as many Gai'Shian to watch their every move.
Then again … even shielded partially behind the flowing robes of a tall scientist, Sakarra could clearly make out the familiar features of Itsak tr`Sahen and his second, Hanaj.
It was nearly enough to let the raven haired woman's dry humor surface, commenting silently on the personal welcome. But Hanaj's scowl was indicative of something other than his commander wishing to bask in the revenge about to take shape.
She realized what it was when the dark gaze found what it had been looking for and a predatory smile lit the sharp, aquiline features that were as clear a stamp of his heritage as the dramatically upswept ears.
"Not this one." As the other Vulcans were prodded towards the exit, Sakarra found herself separated and brought before the Vaek'Riov whose stare had lost nothing of its intensity and conjured the memory of tropical gardens and a tense meeting in warm, dimly lit quarters.
"So we meet again, lady Vulcan." The deep, slightly rough baritone held a timbre that struck an all too familiar chord within the young woman and she might have been tempted to answer it with something other than words, but the V'Ket already shifted and tensed, filling the air with the threat of a storm gathering over the plains.
"So we do, Vaek'Riov." Her demeanor that of a matriarch displeased with an insolent one, Sakarra met the gaze unblinking, but she was not at all prepared for the hand reaching out with astonishing speed, gripping her tightly braided curls, pulling her closer until she was forced to look up at the face hovering over her and the triumphant, malevolent smile flickering over it.
Her hands shot up, startled at the unexpected and uninvited touch and it was by sheer instinct that she managed to land a blow. A blow that was returned tenfold when a hand impacted her face and sent her flying straight into a bulkhead, nearly completing the task of leaving the small Vulcan disoriented and blinking. Nearly.
For she was all too aware of the snarl emanating from – Voran? No, foolish, foolish …- and the distinct sound of rifles being pushed aside, Gai'Shian being tossed into walls like so many leaves scattered before the storm, disruptor blasts tearing through the air …
She turned around just in time to see the tall, violet eyed Vulcan break the ribs of a Galae officer, reaching for the honor blade the man had tried to draw. The disruptor shots which had cleanly missed the enraged Vulcan before were now focusing on the V'Ket who formed a living wall to shield the scientists, roughly ushering them out into the corridor, away, to questionable safety.
Skill and experience do not falter even under rage, but blind fury is precisely that – blind.
Emerald droplets trickling from her lips, Sakarra tensed for what might be her last, desperate attack and was still powerless to prevent the shining steel of tr`Sahen's blade from finding its target. Surprised for a moment, he seemed almost pleased that one of the Vulcans had chosen fight after all and watched smiling as the man did not even deign to acknowledge the sword piercing his heart. The strength already seeping from the mortally wounded one, he still sent the dying Galae officer crashing into the transporter platform to draw a last breath into his crushed lungs and pulled the captured blade, advancing on his foe with eyes ablaze.
It dropped from his fingers a moment before he himself collapsed at the hated enemy's feet, his last hiss one of defiance.
And then it was silent.
Ignoring the sour look on Hanaj's face, Itsak took in the scene – three of the Vulcans with their shimmering terracotta uniforms lay dead, as did nearly a dozen Gai'Shian and the mangled security officer. The others had been herded into the corridor, and there in the door stood only the old one, his proud face daring the surviving Rihannsu to finish their work.
Every head turned when the Vaek'Riov broke into a low chuckle.
Well, well, who would have thought.
"Your lover, lady Vulcan?" Walking over to the woman who had picked herself off the floor and stared at him with something almost approaching an expression, Itsak smiled – the same dangerous, devious smile he had displayed before, only now laced with deep satisfaction. "No matter. Though I think it's somewhat appropriate, wouldn't you agree?"
A strand of her sable hair had come loose, tumbling over the unflattering uniform and he toyed with it, marveling once more at the unusual texture. "Is this not what your people's women do? Force the males to fight and kill to win their mates?"
She did not deign to answer, though he hadn't expected a reply in any case.
Waving curtly towards the tall V'Ket with the graying temples, Itsak pointed his chin at the corridor "Take them away." It did not sit well with the Rihannsu who would have loved to repay that proud old one for the havoc he had caused, but they obeyed, shoving their disruptor rifles into unresisting Vulcans. As for Shiarrael's thaessu …
"Come."
He nearly laughed again when she was too stubborn to understand that there was little point in her defiance and actually forced two security officers to advance menacingly before she strode past them, that exquisite little chin raised high.
Yes, this would be quite … enjoyable.
[End Log]
