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Captain
Join Date: Sep 2012
Posts: 2,635
# 14
04-24-2013, 01:46 PM
Kovem sat down heavily onto the stool at the bar. The creaking sound alerted the Orion bartender and he looked toward the source. The Romulan replied with a small wave and the bartender nodded. Within moments a familiar clear red drink slid across the bar and stopped under Kovem's chin. That caused a brief smile to appear before the contents of the glass were washed down his throat. The red liquid burned on the way down and literally splashed into his stomach. The familiar sensation was reassuring, as if to remind Kovem that he was not in a nightmare he could not wake up from and that he was alive enough to try to change his lot in life.

What do you want?

The last words his father said to him haunted his memories and every other thought he had since then. It was a simple question, but the answer eluded him for years. Without an answer, the words taunted him at the same time because how can anyone not ... answer ... the question. It was frustrating.

Glory?

The Romulan Star Empire was a shadow of its former self even before the Hobus Event. Nowadays it's even worse, from a certain point of view. Sela wants to restore the Empire as it was; D'Tan wants to rebuild the Empire into something new. As long as these two factions exist then nothing will really happen. So, proud Romulans like him are stuck between two opposing forces. A choice will need to be made. Soon. It won't matter who is right, as long as a clear path is made. The Elements can then decide what glory there is for Romulans and Remans in the galaxy.

Kovem swallowed the last drops from his glass and ordered another round. The new glass slid and stopped like the first.

Fortune?

The galaxy has not place for entrepreneurs. The Ferengi are fools to try to think money is a compelling factor in anything worthwhile. Those who follow the Ferengi ways are idiots themselves. The galaxy is at war and those who seek to monetize from conflict will only find death. They deserve it, such scum. No loyalty except to the highest bidder or the greater largess. Scavengers are even worse! There is no sympathy to those who eke out some paltry existence from the sorrow or misgiving or others. But really, the pirates are the bottom-feeders of the universe. Pillaging, plundering and pilfering from anyone in their path. Piracy has little regard for law and true honor.

Kovem snarled into his drink and looked around to see if anyone was watching him. Seeing none he brooded further in his solitary quest for relief from the question that vexed him.

Revenge?

It's been years since the colony on New Romulus was attacked by the Tal Shiar. Little Biel'tan and Al'tioc - their lives cut short because of Sela's hubris and anger. The Romulans lost their homeworlds and one person - one half-Romulan! - decided those that did not stand with her were against her. Kovem's children weren't given the chance to choose and that seared at his aging soul. His wife, Iyasha, was inconsolable. But she chose a one-way path: she felt her purpose in life - to be a good mother - was gone, so her life had no purpose. He yelled to the dark stars above the ruins of New Romulus ... but no one listened.

Kovem's knuckles were white as he gipped the glass tighter. He stopped himself from destroying another bar glass. If the cursed Vulcan's had one thing right, it was their control of emotions could help keep a bar tab from getting bigger.

Duty?

...

Duty.

His eye widened and he sat up straighter and slowly.

One word.

In the many years since his father uttered his last breath, Kovem had not considered it. Was "duty" the legacy his father wanted to bestow upon his son? Why didn't he just say it? Why didn't he try to do something about it? Duty. The word solidified in his mind's eye. It pushed aside all other thoughts.

He looked around, hoping to wake up from a dream: hoping to find the inspiration to act: hoping the alcohol would evaporate from his blood so he could run.

Kovem kept looking around him, seeing the same faces he saw before minding their own business. He took account of his situation. After his wife's death, he jumped on a freighter and fled New Romulus. He did not take up arms, but instead found a place on the civilian crew of Drozana Station. The dirty place allowed him to hide from his past but he could not find his future. Maybe he lost his future in the throngs of miscreants, merchants, privateers, pirates, scavengers and scum.

Or maybe he just found it.

What do you want?

But there was more than the cold, expressionless idea of "duty". There was the warm and renewing feeling of hope.

Kovem smiled to himself and paid his tab in full, then walked toward the doors to the bar. He could see himself standing on the transporter pad, his destination to a vessel traveling away from this trash heap in space. The doors swished and creaked open and the hallway gaped open. He stopped, unsure where his next step would take him besides one step closer to the transporter room.
Kathryn S. Beringer - The Dawn Patrol

Solaris build - Veritatum Liquido Cernene

Last edited by cmdrscarlet; 04-25-2013 at 06:46 AM. Reason: Punctuation dagnabit