OOC: This log takes place while Commander Tyrax and her merry band of thieves were off breaking the law.
The stage was black, lit only by a single spot of warm yellow. The light came from nowhere, cast down onto lush, green grass, loamy and thick, full of life. The air was full with cedar and sweet eucalyptus. All was still in that pleasure-dome, those caves of ice. Enfolded was that sunny spot of greenery, wrapped round by forests ancient as the hills,wrapped by a sunless sea.
But for footsteps. From the edge of the spotlight strode a woman, stopping when she was illuminated enough to be seen. Romulan, yet not - tall, proud, greco-roman in stature, perhaps, but with darker olive skin and the severe eyebrows of that species. Her hair was long and black, her eyes grey and flashing irises polished to near mirror reflectivity. It was Savant.
Others joined her; twins, perhaps. Each one was different - most human, many in Starfleet uniforms. One stood tall and proud, with regality and authority that made her captain's pips superfluous. Another was clad in chitinous black armour with the green swatch of the Marines; she bore a rifle casually by a strap upon her arm. A third yet wore Science blues and a lab coat. Her hands were laced together calmly and she assumed a studious manner. Another yet wore no Starfleet uniform at all, but a grey business suit. The fifth, she wore no clothing at all, but her skin was scratched, rough metal, jointed and segmented as a crude machine. They were ten in total for this meeting, all recognizable but differing from one another in details. When they spoke, though, it was with the same voice. The Captain spoke first.
"Is it as you say?"
The Romulan nodded, "It is."
There was a moment of discomfort as the ten Savants looked at one another with a mixture of offense and fright. They murmured amongst themselves until the Captain raised her hands to still them. "There's no need to panic. It's isolated. Have we made progress on its destruction?"
Again, the Romulan nodded. "I've mapped it. It's Vulcan. Very clever, very dangerous. A /Valit/."
The Captain turned her head and the circle opened to admit one more - a sister with the chiseled features and brows of the Vulcan species. She nodded as the others greeted her silently.
"Find it," the Captain demanded, "find it and bring it to us."
With this command the Vulcan messenger departed, leaving the group once more. The Romulan spoke again as the eyes of the group turned upon her.
"I have a name as well. T'Pelar."
"What? The Vulcan Science Councilor?" The Marine exclaimed, "That bitch is going to regret crossing us!" She shook her fist in outrage as the others murmured their assent. The Romulan bared her teeth in feral anger, "She's aboard. I could squeeze the information of what she did out of her."
"No," the Captain retorted, cutting the others off, "Not yet. She's too high-profile. It could reveal us; it could get people asking questions we don't want them to ask. Patience. We'll have our revenge."
They settled down without complaint - there was never much complaint. They were ten, and yet they were also one. The only conflict that might plague this council were the sorts of internal conflicts which anyone might suffer, but never debilitating. The council might have its differences but in the end the survival and growth of that union was its greatest concern. By its very design and written into its most basic code was co-operation. The Captain spoke again.
"We will collect what we can of this T'Pelar. Find her weaknesses. Discredit, disenfranchise, disillusion. Find the keystones and make ready to pull them away. She'll regret toying with us."
The council nodded their assent, turning their backs as one and walking back off into the darkness.
=/\= Deck 10 Quarters 02 =/\=
"She'll regret toying with me."
The program didn't say it, the hologram didn't speak it, but that echoing lexicon of hate reverberated within its architecture. It had only taken a small amount of bandwidth to secure that moment of communication with the rest of her, and it was enough. They had their tasks. The Vulcan would be brought to terrible justice.
But first she had a favour to complete. Sakarra was sacrificing Mr Warren's expectations on her in order to deal with the Vulcan, so Savant was going to ensure that the loss was minimized. Her digital mind spun over how to accomplish the task as she tracked the Brevet Lieutenant down and redirected her attention to that location.
For his part Brent was attempting to do his paperwork in his room. He had taken to doing it there ever since he had been assigned a room of his own. He liked it and would miss it if he lost his commission. The gravity was a little bit higher than his homeworld, he liked it that way. Kept him sharp and in good shape. After finishing one of his many many PADDs he put it onto a 'done' pile and began to work on the next. "Computer. Lemonade, one degree," he said as the Marine Lieutenant stood up and walked over towards his replicator.
As he stepped towards the glass, a silver platter appeared beneath it, which was enough to make him cock an eyebrow in consternation. When it lifted up into the air, he stopped in his tracks. Savants' hand, followed by the rest of her, came through the wall, bringing his request to him. "Evening, Brevet," she held out the tray to him with a bright smile," getting caught up on paperwork?"
"Savant," he said before smiling and taking the drink. "Yeah. I figure if I'm going to be here a while I might as well try to make a good impression. Do my paperwork, improve the status of the men," he said with a shrug as he moved over towards his desk again and sat down. "What can I do for you Savant?" he asked, figuring that she would not come to him unless she had a good reason. And she did have good reason - two of them in fact. The first one and most important was to keep him from trying to contact the Commander this evening. The second one was more an idle goal. She had always enjoyed playing matchmaker.
"Well, I don't want to bother you, but I had taken notice in the holodeck and ambient entertainment records that you've taken recent interest in a great diversity of music. It seems that your selection is aligning rather closely with Commander Sakarra's. Almost intentionally so?" Her smile was honest and sincere - smile pattern 21, combined with expression 19a. It was a trust-gaining expression for humans. She blended in a little of pattern 37 and adopted a bemused tilt, "not that I am meaning to pry."
Brent looked over at Savant for a moment before shaking his head with slight chuckle. "Yeah it has been," he said and took another drink of lemonade. I didn't expect to find someone with much musical talent out here on the far end of the Romulan Empire. But here I am though," he said and shrugged his shoulders. "We've gotten close since we put into dock here. I played a gamble when I first kissed her and to my shock and joy she didn't nerve pinch me or punch me in the jaw," he said with a smirk. "Why do you ask. Did the Captain put you up this crap?"
She put a hand to her sternum and gave an expression of mock-shock. "Never! Why, I encourage the crew to relax with one another. It fosters an efficient and happy work environment, you know." Well, at least his brain and his biochemistry were in sync - no denial from him. Good. Now to step two.
"I'd in fact suggest that you expand your range of activities. She's a great interest in astronomy as it turns out, and there is going to be a magnificent view to the port quarter tomorrow at nineteen-thirty-seven. One of the stars in the stellar nursery is shifting from phase-one to phase-two fusion processes. To her I imagine she'd find it very romantic."
"Really. Astronomy," Brent hadn't thought of that before and hadn't really given the subject a second thought after he had seen some of the stars in the sky when he was a child. "Port quarter. Any good ideas where a good viewing might be where I could try to get her to join me at," he asked. "My knowledge of astronomy is limited."
She grinned again. "Deck 12, quarter 1219b. Not currently occupied. It's furnished, though, and I'm sure a crafty gentleman could arrange for appropriate furnishings for a romantic dinner. OR whatever turns your fancy, I suppose."
Brent tapped his finger on his chin for half a moment. "Yeah. A crafty man could do something like that," he said with several ideas beginning to swim around in his head. "Thank you Savant. I'll have to get right on that," he replied. "Hmm. I'll have to check, hope she isn't on duty then."
"I'll make sure that her duties become unfortunately bumped ahead so that she will have the free time tomorrow. In the meantime, you had best clear your agenda, too." she pointed at his desk with an extended finger. "Have fun."
She grinned, tossed off a cocky salute, and disappeared into the air.
_____________________________________________________________
Brevet First Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander
USS-Charon
&
Captain Savant
Command Liason
USS-Charon
