Go Back   Star Trek Online > Information and Discussion > Ten Forward

Thread Tools Display Modes
Starfleet Veteran
Join Date: Jun 2012
Posts: 622
# 31 Veleen Takor
05-16-2013, 05:42 PM
Veleen Takor stepped through the doorway into her apartment, the raven-haired Romulan Woman looking at her Datapad and checking information on her account, which had just received a rather hefty deposit thanks to her activities earlier that day.

Veleen had been born on Romulus, but she held no memories of the planet, having been only two years old when her parents had fled just before the Hobus Incident. They'd established a home on an out-of-the-way, mostly unknown colony world named Virinat, and had raised her as best they could until she was 12, at which point illness took them, forcing her to live on her own.

Rather than take to the farms as most children her age did on that world, Veleen instead took to racing, an activity made possible thanks to the presence of the Colony's Kestrel-Class Runabouts.

While she started as a member of one of the pit crews, and then became a supporting crew member, she learned more and more about the craft, trying it out in simulation mode every chance she could, until the age of 18 when she competed as an actual pilot for the first time.

Since then, she had become quite the accomplished pilot, winning almost every race she participated in. Sometimes more veteran pilots would defeat her, but she was still a very skilled pilot.

"An impressive race today, Miss Takor."

Veleen looked up at the slightly familiar voice, seeing a human with purple hair and eyes, wearing a black jumpsuit.

"Thank you, Mister Erde," Veleen replied. Tieria Erde was a bit of a mystery to Veleen - he showed up last year, seemed about as emotionless as a Vulcan was supposed to be, and had appeared and disappeared seemingly at random over the course of said year. It was obvious that he was from off-world, and often told Veleen about galactic events in exchange for hearing her talk about life on Virinat. "What brings you here today?"

"My superiors wanted me to pass along a warning," he admitted. "We have heard from reliable sources that the Tal Shiar are making moves on some of the outlying worlds, to bring them back under the Empire's heel. There is a chance they may come here to Virinat."

Veleen's eyes narrowed. Tieria had admitted to belonging to an intelligence agency in the past, and she got the feeling that she was being cultivated by him as a local contact - as to his parent organization, she had no clue, but doubted he was part of the Tal Shiar her parents had told her about.

"This colony is out in the middle of nowhere," she replied. "You managed to find us, true, but I'm assuming luck played a massive role in that. The odds of the Tal Shiar having that same luck are extremely low."

"Luck did play a role in my finding this world, true," Tieria admitted, "but something seems off about these latest Tal Shiar moves. It's more than simply attacking these colonies - somehow they manage to abduct entire populations with little to no warning or evidence."

Veleen's eyes widened at that. "How is that possible?" she asked.

"I am not sure. It is quite possible that the Tal Shiar have found some new allies, who could possess the ability to perform these abductions."

Veleen nodded. It was quite possible, from what Tieria had told her about the galaxy and how much of it was still unexplored. "So... what should I do about it?" she asked. "Going to the Elder with what you've just told me would only cause a panic."

"That is true," Tieria affirmed. "I simply ask that you be cautious. Keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary, and if something happens, do what you have to in order to protect your fellow colonists."

He then walked closer to her. "This is the last time you will see me here," he mentioned. "My superiors do not want to risk me being discovered by the Tal Shiar, so I must leave. However, if you are forced away from this world and have need of my help, simply send an omni-directional subspace message out at this frequency." He handed her a slip of paper, which contained a set of numbers which were obviously a communications frequency, and a word: 'Virtue'.

"That frequency is one that is rarely used," Tieria explained. "In fact, it is only used by people I give it to, and only when they have need of me. The word written on the paper is all the message you send should contain."

Veleen nodded, a small smile on her face as she took the paper. "Thank you, Mister Erde," she said. "If I need your help, I'll be sure to give you a call."

"Thank you, Miss Takor," Tieria replied as he walked away. "Until we meet again, then."
He passed through the doorway, and was gone.


Soon after Tieria left the apartment, Veleen received a request to help fix some water pipes in the fields, given that she still had mechanical skills from her time in the racing pits. That request, though small, set the wheels of fate in motion, sending Veleen and her fellow colonists away from Virinat, and into the camp of the Romulan Republic...
Originally KiraYamato before the Account Linking - True Join Date August 2008

"Close Air Support covereth a multitude of sins." - Maxim 4, The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries

Last edited by takeshi6; 04-01-2014 at 10:41 AM.
Join Date: Feb 2013
Posts: 674
# 32
05-17-2013, 02:41 PM
On yet another summer day under the harsh Brean sun, the raptor was out hunting again.

From her lookout on the mossy clifftop, Ta'nara watched, her one natural green eye sharp and bright with interest as she observed the bird circling over the distant forest canopy. Her other eye-- a grey, glimmering augmetic replacement for the eye she'd lost at Xanitla-- whirred, taking in air currents, vital signs, thermal information and projected speeds and trajectory as it ran calculations on the bird. If the Brean raptor was aware that it had an audience, then it made no indication as it circled in the distance, borne aloft on elegant, arched wings as its own keen eyes scanned the canopy below.

The Brean raptor was a magnificent bird, its wingspan greater than the height of an average adult Rihannsu. Its grey-green feathers, made from diamond-hard ultralight keratin strands, sparkled emerald under the morning sun, and its beaked head, framed by a helmet-like crest of feathers, cocked from side to side as it glared at the ground below. The raptor was the apex predator of Brea's skies, with a flight speed unmatched by any of the planet's other avians. Ta'nara had studied it long enough to know that its talons and monomolucular-edged feathers were capable of slicing through steel, and that its eyes were adaptable enough to see clearly in any light variation. This particular raptor must have made its nest not too far from Ta'nara's makeshift camp on the plateau, as she had seen it soaring periodically in the distance for the three days she had been here.

She sat down against a nearby rock, the birdwatching making her feel relatively calm and at ease. She remembered the stories and rumours she had heard years ago about the raptor's origins-- of how it was not truly native to Brea III, but was the ancestor of a Vulcan bird brought here by S'Task and the first Rihannsu. There were even stories that the Brean raptor was a close relative of the Rihannsu raptor-- the same great avian predator that the old Star Empire had taken as its symbol, and had been lost, along with everything else the Rihannsu had held dear, when ch'Rihan was destroyed.
It was because of this that the Brean raptor now held a special significance to the Rihannsu people: it reminded them of the magnificence and glory that their civilization had lost. It was an image that was at once tragic and patriotic.

Patriotic. It had been a long time since Ta'nara had felt the word meant anything. She had certainly felt patriotic all those years ago when, as a starry-eyed girl fresh out of the science academy, she had enlisted into the military to fight under her girlhood heroine Donatra against the oppressive regime of Praetor Tal'aura. She had felt patriotic again when, in the aftermath of the Hobus detonation, after working fruitlessly for a year at a refugee camp, she had joined the Tal Shiar-- the only institution left of the Star Empire that was actually doing something to make things better. And she had felt patriotic when, as an operative of the Tal Shiar, she had rooted out terrorists, dissidents, foreign agents and every other enemy of the Rihannsu people, and had put her keen scientific background to use in interrogating and breaking them.

And where had her patriotism led her? Here, in the darkest depths of the jungle lowlands of Brea III, on the run from other, patriotic, Rihannsu.

With a terrible, bone-chilling screech, the raptor suddenly swept its wings back and dove, dropping in the blink of an eye and disappearing under the jungle canopy. Ta'nara imagined the horrible, wet tearing sound of the bird's razor-sharp wings shredding its prey, before the raptor flew up from the canopy again, an indistinct carcass clutched in its thorny talons. As the bird began to disappear into the horizon, Ta'nara sighed, stood, and prepared to resume her own journey. She had quite a climb ahead of her if she wanted to get off this plateau, though she'd need to get to higher ground again soon afterwards if she wanted to avoid the local predators. With luck, she could reach the valley by dusk, assuming she didn't become a part of the Brean food chain by then.

You should never have opened that message, she thought to herself for what felt like the millionth time as she knelt down and began to roll up her sleeping pack. Typically, when a mid-level official like her gets a mysterious message on their computer, and when the sender is a colleague who has been presumed killed in action, the correct choice would be to either delete the message or to report it. That would have been the smart thing: to keep her head down and not get involved in things she knew nothing about. Instead, though, like an idiot, Ta'nara had given in to her curiosity and had opened the damned message.

And what a message it had been. The entire file had been packed with alpha-clearance communiques to and from the Tal Shiar's central command. Their seals had been broken, and against her better judgement, Ta'nara had read through them. In the space of a minute, Ta'nara learned that the current head of the Tal Shiar had been compromised by an alien influence. Exactly what that alien influence was, she still didn't know-- he could have been an agent of the Federation or Cardassians, a mind-controlled puppet of the Ktarians, or even an imposter sent by the Dominion or Species 8472. All Ta'nara knew was that whoever Central Command was sending all of those carefully coded communiques to, they definitely weren't Rihannsu.

And so, Ta'nara had packed what things she could and had run, knowing that the information leak would be traced back to her before long. When she discovered that Brea's spaceports had been declared off limits for "emergency inspections," she had instead run out into the planet's lowlands, hoping to evade capture out in the tangled green wilderness of the Rihannsu base-world. That had been a month ago, and in spite of their best efforts, neither the Brean wildlife nor the Tal Shiar had killed her yet.

She knew, though, that it was only a matter of time before she was caught. Even out here, far from civilization, the Tal Shiar would inevitably find her. Even though she had taken the procautions of disabling all traceable equipment and implants on her person, and even though she knew some of the Tal Shiar's best search methods, she also knew that her former colleagues had other tricks and methods at their disposal. Even in the aftermath of the Hobus disaster, the Tal Shiar remained one of the most effective intelligence agencies in the galaxy, and no dissident, however determined, escaped them. The thought made Ta'nara's gut twist uncomfortably. For sixteen years, she had been a member of the Tal Shiar, and now here she was thinking of herself as a 'dissident.'

She had just finished rolling up her pack when she heard a faint, almost inperceptible crack of twigs from the nearby treeline. The sound had been slight enough that it could easily have been a scurrying rodent. Ta'nara knew that that was precisely what it was supposed to sound like.

She closed her eyes and took a few deep, silent breaths to slow her heartbeat. "Hello, Colonel," she said, not bothering to look at the treeline.

Her keen hears heard the more distinctive sound of boots crunching on undergrowth. Slowly, Ta'nara turned and saw four hazy outlines emerging from the treeline, making it look as though the forest was shimmering and blurring. Shroud fields and sound dampeners, she thought. Of course. There was a sound like a ghostly exhalation of breath, and the four images suddenly became clear and distinct. Standing in front of her was a party of Rihannsu, all clad in the standard-issue dark green fatigues of Tal Shiar mountain gear. Three of them were only adolescent young men, uhlans most likely, with the fierce gaze of newly-promoted officers with something to prove. They were all carrying disruptor rifles, though a quick analysis from Ta'nara's augmetic eye told her they had plenty of backup weapons and equipment as well.

The fourth, however, stood at the front of the group, a head taller than the uhlans with a more broad-shouldered, imposing figure. He was immediately recognizable for his bald head, his hard, scowling face, and for the cybernetic implant that swirled around his right eye like some twisted black blossom.

Hakeev, of course. The Colonel wouldn't have risked letting someone else handle this, not when such critical information was at stake. Hakeev was here, Ta'nara knew, to eliminate the loose end in person.

"Hello, Ta'nara," Hakeev said, his scowl transitioning into a triumphant smile. "You've led us on quite a chase."

Even as the uhlans all pointed their disruptors at her, Ta'nara remained seated, keeping her expression calm and serene. Interrogator Verok's words came back to her from her novice days. Never let them see your true face, your true emotion. We of the Tal Shiar must always wear masks, and let our enemies see only what we want them to.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to catch up," she replied quietly, remembering the shuttle she had seen circling the mountains this morning. "Even though I had a day's head start, I didn't think it would take you an entire month." She gave Hakeev the closest approximation to a smile that she would allow.

Hakeev's scowl creased a little, and she knew that she had stung his pride. "I sincerely hope you didn't believe you could escape, Ta'nara," he said stiffly. "You know as well as I that no traitor escapes the Tal Shiar."

She inclined her head towards Hakeev. "Which of us is a traitor is a matter of some debate, Colonel," she replied. She glanced at the uhlans. "I suppose you've told them all about me and my various crimes against the Star Empire? Have you also told them that you plan to dispose of them afterwards, like you did Vrianu, Senra and K'ten?"

The uhlans remained stern and expressionless in the face of this comment, though Hakeev allowed himself a grin. "They are loyal agents of the Tal Shiar, Ta'nara, unlike you," he sneered. "Talk all you want, they'll know your lies for what they are." He folded his arms. "Of course, we'll have plenty of time to sift the truth from your lies when we return to the main base."

"Oh please." Her palms dug into the moss of the rock she was sitting on. "We both know the reason why this hunt has been going on, and you don't need to waste time in an interrogation chamber to hear it. I've been branded as a traitor because I publicly disagreed with this whole grand plan of yours, Colonel, and because I was not afraid to call you a power-mad lunatic."

Hakeev raised an eyebrow-- an action that caused the pale flesh around his implant to crease unpleasantly. "Really, Ta'nara, I had thought that you of all people would support my plan," he said, adopting the tone of a disappointed parent. "We should have done something about the Havransu ages ago. We have tolerated their existence for centuries, and what have they given us in return? Terrorism, kidnappings, and murder. This is for the good of the Rihannsu people, Ta'rana, you know this."

"The Rihannsu people are the only ones who can determine what is right for the Rihannsu people," Ta'nara replied, suddenly aware of the bitterness present in her voice. She waited a heartbeat before continuing, to keep herself under control. "Not you, Colonel, or your alien masters."

The Colonel made no reaction to this other than a disappointed sigh. "I don't think that there's anything to be gained from this continued banter, Ta'nara," he said. "You know what happens next. It would probably be better if you didn't resist."

At a nod from the Colonel, the three uhlans advanced on her, keeping their rifles trained on her all the while. Ta'nara remained calm and seated...and chose that moment to close her eyes, and press her thumb against the the tiny, thumbnail-sized emitter she had kept hidden under her palm.

One learned all sorts of interesting things in the Tal Shiar. Ta'nara had learned, for instance, that a standard comm badge could be traced from a long distance, but with the right amount of tinkering, it could be disabled be rendered undetectable. But with even a little more rewiring, tinkering, and a few add-ons, your average comm badge could be converted into a short-ranged flash bomb small enough to hide under, say, one of the scattered tree-leaves that the uhlans had just strode over.

There was a keening whine, followed by the trilling pulse of the communicator erupting. Ta'nara heard Hakeev and his men cry out as they were blinded by the flash. She opened her eyes, took a split second to take stock of the situation, and sprang into action.

The foremost Uhlan was was still reeling and clutching his eyes when Ta'nara was upon him. He forced his eyes open and raised his rifle a second too late-- Ta'nara had already whipped her combat knife free of its wrist-sheath and had buried it into her opponent's windpipe. The young man looked at her in wide-eyed bewilderment, and could only give a startled gurgle before Ta'nara kicked him free and lunged at the next two. Damn you, Hakeev, forcing me to kill a bunch of juveniles...

The second uhlan recovered much faster, and managed to raise his rifle and fire at Ta'nara before she could close the distance. Moving on instinct, Ta'nara ducked low, the emerald beam hissing past her ear, before she sprang up and grabbed at her opponent's wrist, twisting sharply. The uhlans gasped as his arm was twisted painfully, his aim veering and sending the emerald beam slicing across the treeline...before impacting solidly with the chest of the third uhlan, felling him instantly.

Green as he was, the second uhlan still had Tal Shiar combat training, and did the smart thing by dropping his rifle and using his free hand to whip his knife free. Ta'nara's quick reflexes saved her as she arched back, narrowly avoiding a kill-strike as the silver blade slashing above her face. Releasing her opponent's trapped arm, Ta'nara lashed out with a booted heel, and felt it crunch solidly against the juve's kneecap. The uhlan doubled over, the motion fouling his next knife-strike-- reacting quickly, Ta'nara caught her opponent's knife-hand under her arm and stabbed forward with her own blade. She felt a shock of impact run up her arm as her knife drove itself hilt-deep into the young man's eye socket. He didn't even make a sound as he went still, his brain stopping instantly.

That was three down, and only one left. And Ta'nara could hear that last one drawing his pistol behind her.

Twisting around, Ta'nara spun, getting the body of the last uhlan between her and Hakeev the moment the Colonel fired. There was the chemical reek of plasma incinerating flesh as the dead uhlan took the hit, lurching as the front half of the body was ionized. Gritting her teeth, she kicked the corpse away, leaving her knife stuck where it was, and burst into a run, using the body as a springboard as she launched herself, feet first, at Hakeev. The Colonel's implant-maimed face twisted as he tried to bring his plasma pistol up to fire again, only for Ta'rana's sweeping kick to knock it from his hand and send it clattering uselessly into the undergrowth.

The loss of his firearm, Ta'nara knew, didn't handicap Hakeev in the slightest: he was well known as one of the most fearsome close combat experts in the Tal Shiar. The Colonel exploded into movement, and Ta'rana barely had time to block a vicious arm sweep at her head, the impact against her forearm nearly knocking her off balance. Hakeev didn't even give her time to grab his arm for a counter, backing away a step and forcing her to sidestep a furious left jab. Refusing to let Hakeev retain the initiative, she rotated her body and snapped a kick up at the Colonel's face-- a kick which he easily caught on his forearm, forcing Ta'nara to spin to avoid being tripped to the ground.

The two of them engaged in a furious duel on the clifftop, punching, kicking, chopping and blocking at a dizzying pace. Breathing a tight, controlled pace, Ta'nara found herself slowly being forced onto the defensive, unable to keep up with Hakeev's superior speed and stamina. As she ducked a vicious forearm chop that would have knocked her out,she could have sworn that she had saw Hakeev smiling, enjoying having to get his hands dirty for a change.

Then, after almost half a minute of hand-to-hand duelling, Ta'rana spied an opening as she sidestepped a brutal kick from Hakeev, getting an angle to the Colonel's exposed side. Lunging, she lashed forward with a flat, chopping palm-strike that would have severed the carotid artery of the Colonel's exposed neck. Too late, she realized Hakeev had been feinting: his own arm shot out, clamping hard on her elbow and trapping her extended arm. Alarmed, Ta'nara tried to lash out with a kick to force Hakeev back, but Hakeev acted first, shooting a knee up, hard, into Ta'rana's outstretched arm with the force of a swinging hammer. Ta'nara felt, rather than heard, the bones of her forearm shatter under the blow, and an unimaginable pain shot through the limb and danced down her spine.

She barely suppressed the urge to scream. Barely. But the pain left her immobilized for several seconds-- several seconds that Hakeev needed to whip his knife free and bury it deep into her midsection.

Ta'nara gasped, the sound coming out as a rasping gurgle as she felt something liquid flecking her lips. She stumbled back, one hand clutching at the knife handle protruding from her gut while her other arm hung, useless and broken, at her side. Hakeev smiled at her-- a vicious, sadistic smile that seemed extended by his swirling implant-- and lashed out, hammering one, final kick into Ta'nara's chest. She felt the air erupt from her lungs, along with several droplets of blood, as she was propelled backwards by the force of the blow.

And she fell, and kept falling, as the edge of the cliff zoomed past her vision...


Hakeev watched with satisfaction as Ta'nara tumbled over the cliffside, disappearing from view as she fell to an undoubtedly messy end. She had put up a good fight, but Hakeev had expected no less-- Ta'nara had been one of his top operatives before she had gone rogue. It was unfortunate, he thought, that she had recieved the files stolen by the late K'Ten in the first place, otherwise Hakeev might have considered letting her live.

He straightened his arms, letting himself relax a little after that brutal spar. That was one less loose end he had to take care of, and it felt rather satisfying to have delt with it personally. He glanced at the bodies of the three uhlans, noting with satisfaction that Ta'nara had prevented the need for him to kill these three as well. With Ta'nara dead, his secret could stay a secret, and the next stage of the Masters' plans could go on without interruption.

He turned, and was about to head back down the mountain path when his keen ears heard a familiar hum in the distance. The hairs prickled on the back of his neck and he whirled around in the direction of the sound. In the distance, a round, limestone-green shape was rising steadily over the treeline. He instantly recognized it as a shuttle. His shuttle.

Slowly, Hakeev's eyes drifted away from the rising shuttle to one of the bodies that lay at his feet. Rathan, the uhlan whom Ta'nara had impaled through the eye, was barely recognizable after taking a direct hit from Hakeev's plasma pistol. But even in his semi-disintegrated state, Hakeev could see that Rathan's comm badge was missing. A comm badge which, when activated the right way, would allow emergency transport back to the shuttle. A comm badge which Ta'nara must have ripped free when she and Rathan had been fighting...

It all suddenly became clear. Why Ta'rana had set up camp on a cliffside where she would be easy to detect. Why she had seemingly been waiting for Hakeev. She had allowed herself to be caught, all so that she could gain access to a shuttlecraft and escape out into space. With a sinking feeling, Hakeev realized that the one, crucial loose end had slipped right through his fingers.

Hakeev's yell of frustrated rage echoed across the canopy as the shuttle took off, disappearing into the skyline.


A few days later, perimeter alarms at the edge of the mol'Rihan system went off as an unregistered warp-jump was detected.

In an instant, ships from the nascent Rihannsu Republican navy swooped in to intercept, fearful that Sela's raptors had come for them at last. Instead, they found a solitary Tiercel-class shuttle, its hull scorched and battered from numerous weapons discharges. As the Republic's ships circled the shuttle warily, a communication was broadcast on all frequencies.

"Attention Republic vessels. I am Subcommander Ta'nara, formerly of the Tal Shiar, and whether you desire it or not, you need my help."
Join Date: Jul 2012
Posts: 10
# 33
05-20-2013, 05:40 AM
General information:
Name: Emily L. T'Ithildae
Species/Race: Romulan
Date of Birth: 7 September 2352
Place of Birth: ch'Havran (Remus)
Age: 57
Sex: Female

Length: 6'0
Weight: 160 lbs
Eye color: Emerald Green.
Skintone: Typically Romulan Greenish.
Hair color: Black.

Emily has a slender and lightly athletic build, and is generally considered to be an attractive woman. Unlike most other Romulan women Emily has long flowing hair that reaches down to her shoulders. Like most other Romulans Emily has ridges on her forehead, and a slightly grayish skin tone.

-Father: Senator Argelian Tr'Ithildae (deceased).
-Mother: Lyretha e-Saeihr T'Ithildae (deceased).
-Foster Parents: Frank and Sania Eriksonn (deceased).
-Foster Sister: Maria Eriksonn.

Emily followed classes on tactics, command, intelligence and security. She is a master in hacking and infiltration. Emily can use basically any weapon in combat, and is also well versed in unarmed combat due to her martial arts training. If she wants to be, Emily can be an inspirational leader to other people.

Emily's temper can sometimes flare when her mental grip on her passionate Romulan nature fails. Emily is also not a patient person, and occasionally she can become agitated rather quickly. Emily is a closed and reserved person as does not speak about her personal life or her emotions, this can make her seem distant and cold to others on many occasions.

Emily has but one goal to live according to her mnhei'sahe and to push herself to the top, in whatever field that will be.

When Emily was just a baby she and her twin brother, Robert, were found by a Starfleet officer, in one of the outer Federation colonies close to the neutral zone. Emily's mother was a Tal'Shiar operative, but was killed when she visited her mother with her newborn children. Their father tried to find his children but to no avail, they wouldn't meet again until many years

Emily and her brother were raised by their foster parents. Their foster father was a human Starfleet officer named Frank Eriksonn, and their foster mother was Frank's Vulcan wife Sania Eriksonn.

Emily and her brother spent much of their early childhood with their foster mother, together with their 5 year older Vulcan/Human foster sister. As children Emily and her brother were very passionate (like most Romulans). Their foster mother tried to teach them about the Vulcan way of logic, but Robert only rebelled against her. Since Emily was inseparable from her brother she rejected the path of logic as well. Emily studied Shaolin Kung Fu and adopted the mental disciplines of Xen Buddhism, to be able to control her passionate nature instead of repressing it like Vulcans do. At the age of 11 she and her brother had black belts. After that Emily also started to learn sword fighting, at which she soon became a master.

When Emily was 12 years old her foster father became the CO of the USS Colorado. Shortly afterwards Emily went to live with her foster father aboard the USS Colorado, as her foster mother found it impossible to teach Emily the path of logic. During her time on the USS Colorado Emily further honed her combat skills.

At the age of 16 Emily was admitted to Starfleet Academy. Emily graduated top (valedictorian) of her class. After her graduation Emily served aboard the USS Artemis as a security officer for one year. However, with the onset of the Dominion Emily was recruited by Starfleet Intelligence, because of her skills shown during her time in the Academy.

Emily hardly talks about her actions during the Dominion war, so it?s unknown what she exactly did. What is known for sure is that Emily served aboard the IKS Rotarran during several high profile missions. During this time Emily's fighting spirit earned her the respect and friendship of General Martok. Emily saved the General's life on one occasion, resulting in permanent personal ties between her and the house of Martok.

It is rumored Emily helped Elim Garak plant a bomb aboard the shuttle of a Romulan Senator named Vreenak, in an attempt to draw the Romulan Star Empire into the Dominion war. The attempt proved successful, but all subsequent inquiries into the matter were quietly sidetracked by Starfleet Command. It was also rumored that Emily was involved in several bombings on high profile Dominion targets, and that Emily was involved with Section 31. None of these rumors were ever confirmed since Emily's personal files of that period were sealed by order of Starfleet Command.

During the Dominion war, Robert found their real Romulan father and adopted
the family name. Desiring to reconnect to her Romulan roots Emily followed her brother's example.

After the war Emily was involved in several high profile cloak and dagger operations for Starfleet Intelligence. Emily's last mission ended in disaster, during which she was badly wounded. Upon her return to the Federation Emily was demoted to Ensign for disobeying a direct order.

After her recovery Emily was offered a post aboard the USS Aasgard as Intelligence Officer. Emily didn't like the idea of being part of the strict hierarchy, that came with serving aboard a starship. But her brother, Vice-Admiral Robert E. Tr'Ithildae, thought she should further her career, and left her no other choice but to accept the offer. Serving aboard the USS Aasgard was a real challenge for Emily. Except for her time on the USS Artemis and the IKS Rotarran, Emily had always operated alone or in very small teams. With a lot of effort Emily eventually managed to adapt to her new professional situation.

Emily quickly grew restless aboard the Aasgard, this was largely due to the fact that her former lover was also serving aboard the USS Aasgard. The situation with her former lover created many professional and emotional problems for Emily, as she and her former lover did not part ways on the best of terms the last time they were together. After only just a few months Emily requested a transfer.

In late 2379 Emily transferred to the USS Odin and made Chief Intelligence Officer, she was also promoted to the rank of lieutenant. Rumors had it that Emily?s brother pulled some strings to get her old rank reinstated, though the rumors were never confirmed. Emily served with distinction aboard the USS Odin, she had finally found a home. In this time Emily did change a bit, she learned that she had a talent for leading people and motivating them. As a result she became a bit more open then she used to be. In early 2382 Emily was offered a position as XO of the USS Intervision. After long deliberation and many talks with her CO, Emily decided to accept.

In late April 2382 Emily was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander, and made XO of the USS Intervision. However, Emily never got the chance to serve aboard the USS Intervision, as it was badly damaged while en route to DS9. At that time Emily was still on Allura IX waiting for her new ship to pick her up.

Vice-Admiral Pike had other plans for Emily. Because of the sudden increase of newly constructed ships in Taskforce 44 of the 4th fleet, new CO?s were desperately needed. So in early 2382 Emily was suddenly promoted again, this time to the rank of Commander. Vice-Admiral Pike, the CO of Taskforce 44, personally reassigned Emily to the USS de Ruyter (a Galaxy class Dreadnought) as its CO. Because the USS Intervision would spend the next few months undergoing repairs, Vice-Admiral Pike felt that Emily?s skills were being wasted and would be better utilized in the role of CO.

Aboard the USS de Ruyter Emily once again found a home. Over the course of several years her senior crew slowly became like a second family to her. For Emily this was a happy time. Because she and the crew of the USS de Ruyter served with distinction, Emily was promoted to the rank of Captain in 2384.

In 2387 Emily's newly found serenity was shattered by the Hobus supernova event. Both her father and brother were killed when Romulus was destroyed. Emily was grief stricken by the loss of her closest family members. Despite her personal emotions Emily managed to pull herself together to command the USS de Ruyter during the Federation relief missions into Romulan space. General Worf contacted Emily and requested that the USS de Ruyter joined his task force to deal with the Narada. The attack on the Nerada was a disaster. The USS de Ruyter was destroyed during the attack, and Emily herself was severely wounded during General Worf's boarding of the Nerada. The USS Enterprise beamed Emily out in time to save her life.

The incident with the Nerada added insult to injury. While recovering aboard the USS Enterprise Emily was inconsolable. She had lost her family and her crew. As usual she kept everything bottled up inside of her, without showing any outward sign of the grief she experienced. Nobody ever knew just how close her sanity came to shattering.

After returning to Earth Emily took an extended leave of absence. Emily retreated to a remote Buddhist monastery in Tibet to meditate, and hopefully deal with her grief. Yet Emily found no relieve from her inner demons.

In 2388 reports became public that the Vulcan Science Academy knew of the threat of the Hobus supernova, but had refused to assist the Romulans in preventing the destruction of Romulus. Hearing the reports Emily became enraged. Her latent dislike of Vulcans turned to bitter hatred, as Emily blamed the Vulcan Science Council for the death of her father and brother.

In 2389 the Federation Council vindicated the Vulcan Science Council from any blame. Emily was enraged and decided to take 'justice' in her own hands. In late 2390 Emily was caught attempting to plant a trilithium based explosive inside the Vulcan Science Council. Emily was subsequently court marshaled, but escaped in a shuttle while en route to a Federation prison colony.

Emily sought out chancellor Martok and requested asylum within the Klingon empire. Despite condemning her actions against the Vulcan Science Council as dishonorable, Martok understood her grief and decided her strong emotions briefly clouded her judgement. As repayment for once saving his life Martok gave Emily asylum and made her a member of the house of Martok.

Emily decided her vindication would come through serving the house of Martok and the Klingon Empire. After being approached by Klingon Imperial Intelligence, Emily became an operative for them. During this time Emily mastered the use of the Bath'leth, as well as several forms Klingon martial arts.

When Martok was killed by J'mpok in 2393, Emily transferred her allegiance to Martok's son Drex. Shortly after Martok's death Emily came face to face with chancellor J'mpok. While heavily intoxicated with Bloodwine Emily denounced J'mpok as a blustering bully, and told J'mpok that she would toast over his corpse the day Drex would take his vengeance. Subsequently, Emily punched J'mpok square in the face, after which she walked out of the room. Rather then being enraged, J'mpok thought the Romulan girl had the heart of a Klingon warrior, and left the incident without consequences for Emily.

In early 2401 Emily was working undercover on Rator III. It is there that fate decided that Emily?s destiny would be a very different one. She was under orders to investigate a small Romulan splinter group known as the Reunificationists. Emily's life changed when she met D'Tan. His vision of a new Romulus and a new way of live for their people, touched Emily deeply. While keeping her cover intact Emily joined D'Tan's movement. Over the next few years Emily slowly came to terms with her grief, thanks to D'Tan's help.

Between 2401 and 2408 Emily worked tireless to help build up D'Tan's movement, while also still taking on assignments from Klingon Imperial Intelligence, aimed at weakening Empress Sela and the Tal'Shiar.

As D'Tan's movement gained momentum in 2409 and became the Romulan Republic, Emily was promoted to the rank of Commander in the Republic Navy, and given command of the RRW Daeinos (a Mogai class Warbird). When D'Tan allied with the Federation and the Klingon Empire, Emily decided to ally with the KDF as she knew she could never return to Starfleet.

When Emily first set foot on Mol'Rihan she wept over the beauty of this world. Emily had finally came home, and vowed she would fight for it no matter what. She had a new beginning together with the rest of her people. Finally Emily understood what it was to be Romulan.

Emily is quickly annoyed and also gets angry fast. Emily is slow to trust strangers. Emily is generally rather closed, and she is especially reluctant when it comes to speaking about her past. However, after Emily acquired a senior position, she became somewhat more open towards the people serving under her. If Emily is befriended, she will be loyal to that friend to the end, unless that friend betrays her. Emily practices Xen Buddhism for practical reasons rather then religious ones. The mental disciplines allow her to keep her passionate nature under control, and when on duty she can be as cold and blank as a Vulcan. Emily values duty above anything else, and she will always strive to be the best. As an officer Emily will do anything to protect the people serving under her, she is even willing to risk her own life to make sure no harm comes to those under her command.

Last edited by hyperion1980; 05-20-2013 at 10:56 AM.
Lt. Commander
Join Date: May 2013
Posts: 108
# 34
05-21-2013, 10:39 AM
The howling.
The howling wouldn't stop, it torn down the mental blocks SubLt Teelis T'Pren vainly erected to block its onslaught. Its intensity rising as if signifying a death knell for a planet, a people, a race and it wouldn't stop.

'T'Pren, come on. Strap yourself down!' The softer chorus intruded on the edge of hearing. Its siren call ushering her back to the safety of the group huddled in the dark.

She felt the sweat beneath her palms and its slick sheen across the face of the console. She could barely remember a time when she had been away from this station. Not since the homeworld exploded and flung that last fragment of the orbital docks into their path. The improvised missile crashing into their hull as the Warbird jumped to escape the supernova's wave front.

If fate had been merciful, it would have destabilised the warp field and left them all to burn in the death pyre of the Romulan Empire. It would have been kinder for them all to have died quickly, than to be flung across space, as child would dispose of an unwanted toy. To be sent hurtling out of control with the navigation array destroyed, the injectors fuzed and compartments venting to vacuum in a prolonged death ride. Finally dropping from warp and left to end their days within the gravity well of a forgotten world. The lost ship consigned as a discarded footnote to the end of recorded history.

'I can't' she rebuked the invisible spectators and refocused instead on her task.

It was Vaebn that kept her rooted to this spot. Vaebn the ever present watcher; Vaebn the informer; Vaebn the complicit murderer. They all knew about the Commander's grandfather. How the harmless old man was detained by the Tal Shiar and never returned home. How it had occurred barely a solar day after Vaebn walked onto the mess deck, whilst the grandson was regaling about his leave with his eccentric relative. Vaebn who had so often proclaimed the glory of dying in service of the Empire, that the crew joked that he was a Klingon infiltrator in disguise.

There was no glory on the lips of Vaebn now, only a fear that contorted his visage into something feral, ugly, un-Romulan. The eyes pleaded through the glimmer of the separating forcefield, while his voice continued its incoherent howl of fear and rage.

'I can't' she repeated more forcefully; to the group or to herself she was not certain.

Yes she wanted Vaebn dead, they all did, but not like this. In the dark place their Vulcan cousins suppressed, T'Pren would find it grimly fitting that the informer would be too late. To be finally not just excluded but physically separated from those he caused to fear. Left stranded as the citadel protocol was activated and the forcefields sparked to life. But this was neither the time nor the place. She knew Romulan blood was a scarce commodity now, far too precious to be wasted. Each added value to whole, however low their contribution.

T'Pren's legs trembled and she wondered if fear or fatigue and finally rendered her incapable. The motion instead originated around her, transmitted through the shuddering deck-plates as Warbird angled over into its terminal descent. A faint hope afforded in the final ship orientation, a parting gift from their Captain. The unprotected bridge and its sole remaining occupant were already being laid to desert by the plasma storm of atmospheric re-entry.

Only the few shielded sections now provided protection during the programmed braking manoeuvre. T'Pren felt her hand hover once more, over the symbol that controlled their vapour thin shield of protection. To disable the glowing fields under her command, would disable all of the forcefields around their refugee. Her only chance to retrieve their despised crewmate was to attempt a bypass to the compartment behind.

'Tel, please!' A single insistence, separated from the chorus.

Chavek then; only he would call her that. Simultaneously she felt him lightly grasp her upper arm, the coarse fabric of offered webbing strap, trapped between her uniform sleeve and his hand. She felt herself take a step back. The move an unconscious abandonment of one more soul, even as her hands remained fixed on the console.

'Now Tel. It's too late'
'I'm sorry' She offered, not now in rebuttal but in apology as the first plasma stream penetrated the bulkhead beyond and immolated the accusing face of Vaebn.


Darkness and Light.
The darkness resisted giving up its veil, but the light was not to be denied. T'Pren felt dust in her mouth and sensed the movement of others around her, before the spectral shapes gradually coalesced out of the glare.

'This is death' she whispered to herself, feeling derision at how the reality of the afterlife, compared to its depiction.

'This is landfall, Tel' came a familiar voice, along with the brush of a damp cloth to free her lips.

The humanoid shapes became clearer now and the stark relief of disjointed hull segments that lay beyond them. T'Pren moved her leg and felt loose soil give beneath her boot, as Chavek helped her to her feet.

'What now?' He inquired, as barely a dozen faces turned towards her expectantly.

She kept her own council for a moment. The insignia on her torn tunic was lost, but the survivors clung to the familiar hierarchy of their ship, their broken home, their decimated family. She felt the heat beat down like a furnace. It was far from the ocean breezes of her childhood home, more akin to the old tales of the Forge on the home of their distant ancestors.

'Now?' she tried the word as if repeating it would provide an insight to its response.
'Now we rebuild'.

Last edited by russellca; 05-22-2013 at 04:59 AM. Reason: restructured paragraphs
Join Date: Jun 2012
Posts: 1,317
# 35
05-21-2013, 03:23 PM
The strong smell of Cinnamon and Grola Root whisped into her nostrils. D'Elon Salran groggily came to, her vision blurred, her mind foggy.

"Welcome back to the conscious world."

The voice was female, very close and comforting, but with a slight edge to it. This was someone who held power. D'Elon had heard such people most of her life. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs away and looked up. She found herself bound to a chair in what appeared to be an inactive holodeck. The owner of the voice stood nearby, a Romulan female in a military uniform. She held a small broken bar in her left hand, the equivalent of smelling salts and what was obviously the cause of the smell that woke her up. D'Elon blinked a bit at the Romulan.

"Who are you?"

The Commander smiled sadly, looking down a moment and half turning away before returning her gaze.

"So the first stage didn't work this time? Shame. These go so much easier when they do."

"First stage of what? What are you talking about?"

The commander sighed, then drew up to her full height and faced D'Elon fully.

"I am Commander Tonen D'varo. Tal Shiar. Here to debrief you on the Mol'Rihan situation."

D'Elon slowly shook her head, confused.

"Wait... no. I'm not getting debriefed on anything. I don't even work for the Tal Shiar. I'm just a farmer from Paldoore."

"No. You are Operative 113, working a Deep Cover assignment to gather intelligence on the Romulan Republic and keep us informed of what is happening."

"NO! I'm a farmer! My home was destroyed by a Hirogen hunting party. I moved to Mol'Rihan to make a home for myself. Try to salvage some kind of life. I would never work for you lot."

Tonan sighed.

"It looks like this is going to be a rough one. Allright. Computer, chair."

A chair materialised infront of D'Elon. Tonan sat down, keeping upright and prim at all times.

"Listen. You are Operative 113. You have been assigned to the Tal Shiar for over ten years. You became one of our best undercover operatives, developing strategies on how to turn our enemies against each other. You operated out of the Vault for the last four years, before we allowed it to fall to Obesik."

Well that just made no sense at all. The Vault had recently become public knowledge, having been discovered by a large party of Reman Rebels led by Obisek. The Vault had been captured with heavy effort on the part of the Rebels, but they had succeeded in driving the Tal Shiar out of the base. Rumours and tales of these events circulated all around Mol'Rihan, especially near the Reman Sector. D'Elon was getting agitated.

"I know you're lying. You didn't allow anything to fall. The Reman's took The Vault from you easily, just as easily as we stopped your operations in Vastam Peaks. I've seen your soldiers fall easily. The Tal Shiar is not what it once was."

Tonan remained calm.

"A wonderful ploy, that you yourself developed. The Reman victory at the Vault was simply a guise. As is the Mol'Rihan 'defeats'. Drone ships and traitors serving the Empire one last time. Listen to me One-One-Three. We had to pull you out of cover. We need to know what exactly Obisek and D'Tan have been working on with the Federation. You have become friends with D'Tan. Has he confided in you? What is the current state of affairs within the Romulan Republic governing body?"

"My parents told me stories about the Tal Shiar. Told me how agents would appear at night, taking away anyone who spoke out against the Preator, never to be seen again. They told me tales of how a Tal Shiar Warbird would strike fear into the hearts of any Romulan civillian. But with the fall of Romulus, the Tal Shiar have grown weak. You are beaten in every encounter. The once feared secret police have become a joke. And this...."

D'Elon looked around at the holodeck.

"This little game will not work. I know who I am. I know where my allegiance lies. And it's not with you."

Tonan sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

"Look, we don't have time to play these games One-One-Three. View these logs, they usually jar you back to reality when agents have trouble regaining their senses. Computer, play Archive Delta-One-One-Three-Hookson."


The room shimmered, now displaying a Romulan Command Centre. Tonan was in the centre, overseeing a map with a number of other agents, one of which was D'Elon.

"This is a trick!"

D'Elon struggled against her binds, but couldn't move.

"I assure you One-One-Three, this is an unaltered recording of The Vault two weeks before we abandoned it. Watch."

The recording began playing. Tonan listened as one of her lieutenants reported that the Reman Rebellion had somehow located the station.

"How is that possible?"
"I'm not sure. But reports indicate they are amassing an assault from somewhere near the Devron System."
"How large?"
"We may be able to defeat them, but not before they cause serious damage."
Tonan swore as she looked back to the map.

"These Reman Rebels have been an annoyance ever since Shinzon gave them the idea that they could stand beside us. And they're too scattered for us to take them down properly."

"Ma'am. I believe I may have an idea."

D'Elon let out a sharp gasp as she recognised the new person who joined them. It was her! This had to be falsified. But..... what if it wasn't? It was known the Tal Shiar were not above using memory manipulation and brainwashing to get what they wanted. What if she had been a victim of this? No, she couldn't be. She remembered everything about her life, from playing in the farm's fields, to visiting the Romulus Memorial and hearing the story from her parents about what happened, to leaving Mol'Rihan aboard that civilian freighter and it getting attacked by Leatheans. Which was when she woke up here. The hologram recording continued.

"Well, let's hear it then."
"I believe we should ultimately let them have The Vault."

The male officer who had been present let out a scoff.

"Are you mad? This station is one of the most closely guarded secrets in the Empire."
"Was, Darex, it was the most closely guarded secret. But we've exhausted all of the technology to be gleamed from here. What remains can be shipped off to another base. Let the Remans think they've secured a major victory."

Tonan looked deadpan at D'Elon.

"And why would we want to do that?"

"Because then, we can launch a number of small scale offensives to attempt to retake the station. All of which will fail. The Remans will see this as a well defensible position and more of their kin will flock here."
"Ultimately getting them all together for one final attack that will wipe them out."

Darex sounded unconvinced.

"But we won't be able to get at them. This station is too well defended."

Tonan slowly nodded, already thinking of a strategy.

"Actually, we won't need to get into the station, or even at them. Once they have all gathered, we can use an installed backdoor patch into the Thaloran Generator to wipe them all out quickly in one fell swoop."

Darex looked gobsmacked at the plan.

"And if it fails?"

"We've been trying to put down this rebellion for over forty years. This plan is the best I've heard that could succeed."
"And if it fails-"
"IF... it fails.... then the Reman Rebels will have got access to a single space station that has been stripped of all useful technology, and we will at least know where they all are."

"Computer end playback."

The hologram paused before dissolving back into the empty room. Tonan looked back to D'Elon.

"That plan is currently ongoing. We have sent various waves of ships against The Vault, and they have all failed. The Remans are getting more confident in that station's ability to defend them with each passing day. More are flocking to it. Soon, we will trigger the Thaloran Generator and end one threat to the Star Empire."

D'Elon shook her head slowly.

"That's insane."

"That's your plan."
"That was false. I've never set foot on a Tal Shiar station, let alone be one of your puppets."

Tonan stood up. Clearly, she was tired of this game.

"One-One-Three, stop and think about it for a minute. What possible use would I have for kidnapping a farmer? Unless you are who I say you are, and your altered memories to provide your cover are stopping you from seeing the truth."
"To get me to tell you about the state of the Republic and the Mol'Rihan defences. Obviously. But it won't work. I know who I am. I know where my loyalties lie. You will just have to kill me. And your attack on Mol'Rihan will fail."

Tonan let out a quick snort, her lip curling in disgust.

"Oh I've thought about killing that bunch of hippies more than once. But my superiors would rather we give Mol'Rihan a gentler, subtler approach. Rather than wiping them out, we intend to give the Romulan Republic a nudge here and there, towards a more favourable outcome for all."

Tonan pulled out a communicator.

"Get the mind probes. One-One-Three is not breaking cover."

"Do your worst. The Tal Shiar shall fall. The Republic is the future of Romulus. Loyalists like me will see to it. Our people will live free from your iron grip, free from your fear. Free from control."

Tonan smiled and slowly turned her head to D'Elon.

"You're right about one thing. Loyalists like you will be the future of Romulus."

There was a hiss and pressure on D'Elon's neck as a hypospray got her. Obviously there was someone standing behind her the entire time. As her mind started to cloud to fog, she fought back the sleep, focusing on what Tonan was saying, although she knew it was only a matter of time before she would succumb.

"Loyalists like you, who put not just their lives on the line, but their very existence. Our operatives in D'Tan's group will help us to bring down the Republic, and restore the Romulan Star Empire to it's once great standing. He may not realise that the Tal Shiar is not as stupid as the Senate. We do not centralise the entire chain of command to one spot. A simple miner was able to take them all out for pity's sake. With that as the standard of our leadership at the time, is it any wonder chaos fell from Hobus. But the loss of one planet, even the Homeworld, does not cripple an Empire. D'Tan is playing up to the outsiders the true state of the Empire, in order to gain supporters from outside. I want to know why. And you, One-One-Three, know why. You can help the Raptor fly again. You will be remembered. You are the True Legacy Of Romulus."

Something pressed against her lips. With a splutter, she opened her eyes and pushed away. Someone fell backwards away from her as she tried to get her bearings. There were Romulans all around her, friends she knew from Mol'Rihan. The guy who had fallen backwards came back over to check on her. Now with a clear head, D'Elon was able to see it was D'Tan.

"Were.... were you kissing me?!"

D'Tan smiled.

"No D'Elon. I was giving you mouth to mouth. You were not breathing when we found you."

D'Elon slowly pushed herself up on her elbows. She was lying on her back in a mountain region. There was a wrecked escape pod nearby.

"What happened?"

"We were installing a sensor net in the area when we saw your escape pod come down through the atmosphere. You were injured, but nothing we can't take care of. What was the last thing you remember?"
"I was on a freighter from here, heading for Nimbus Three. Leatheans attacked and boarded. Last I remember is trying to fight them off."

D'Tan nodded.

"We picked up other survivors from that ship last week. Their stories were pretty much the same thing. Once boarding parties started arriving, the Captain ordered everyone to the escape pods to abandon ship. I guess your pod just took longer to come back home."

D'Tan offered D'Elon a hand which she gratefully accepted. As she got to her feet, she realised she was in the Vastaam Peaks district of Mol'Rihan.

"A new sensor net you say?"

D'Tan nodded.

"If you're putting it up in this area, you must be trying to find Tal Shiar operatives."

"That's right. Hopefully we'll be able to find all of their bases and make this planet a secure home for all of us."

As the others turned and picked up rods that D'Elon could only assume were part of the sensor net, she walked alongside D'Tan.

"So, tell me about this new sensor net."

A Romulan Strike Team, Missing Farmers and an ancient base on a Klingon Border world. But what connects them? Find out in my First Foundary mission: 'The Jeroan Farmer Escapade'
Lt. Commander
Join Date: Jul 2012
Posts: 147
# 36 The Centurion (Nahash #3)
05-21-2013, 08:04 PM
Part 1

Part 2


"This data card contains the same information as your useless transmission!" The thug elbowed my open wound to emphasize his point.

Something deep inside of me enjoyed taunting the fool, even though it led to more pain. "Did anyone with a remedial amount of knowledge in encryption protocol examine it?" I rolled over to protect my bleeding gut.

"It took an hour decrypt the useless data," the officer in the corner said. "The protocol you gave us before you left didn't work." The brute kicked me in the ear to emphasize the officer's point. There were probably some more words spoken, but at that point I was pretty sure that my eardrum had broken.

"Examine the highlighting and supplemental notes in the text," I grunted. "Any eleven year old could decrypt the data. Run the pattern of supplemental data into the decryption protocol, you fool!" My voice cracked as I raised my voice.

The officer looked away and then turned towards the door. "Beat him until he loses consciousness or a limb, whichever happens first."


I woke up to that strange feeling of being transported. Most sentient beings get used to that feeling after the second or third time, but waking up to that always feels wrong. Anyway, I materialized in what appeared to be a decent medical bay. Something pressed against my neck, and then I passed out again.

Eventually I woke up again and was quickly escorted to a conference room. The man at the table was the person who recruited me for this sick enterprise. Luckily for him, I wasn't able to speak very well thanks to a few punches to my throat some time before.

"I would like to apologize for the way you were treated," the man said. "It is our policy to put new recruits in with the lower-performing groups, but in your case I can see that it was a mistake. Your encryption scheme was too advanced for their simple minds, so they beat you instead. Rest assured that they won't make that mistake again. Please, have a seat."

I turned around and realized that the guard had left the room. I sat down.

"You have certainly earned a higher position in my organization. You are now a senior engineer and assistant intelligence officer." He paused to weigh my reactions. I tried to make a comment, but it just came out like a grunt.

"By now you must be curious as to my identity. I am the one that people call the Centurion. My mission is to restore the glory of the Empire, which is something that you sympathize with. Don't be surprised - my associates have read all of your writings and listened to all of your conversations. I know that you agree with my goals but not my tactics. Please, before you judge me, hear me out.

"Why do I attack Federation convoys heading to New Romulus? Because taking assistance from them is an acknowledgement that we are weak. Why have my associates destroy the Romulan embassy on Tellar? Because they were groveling for assistance, as if our Empire needed help from inferior beings. Some may say that my methods are extreme, but you have to admit that they are effective."

I stopped paying attention and used the terminal built into the table to type questions. He smiled and continued the narrative. "How original! Do you really believe that the Tal Shiar will stop me? I have a secret for you, my friend - I am the Tal Shiar. The Centurion is one of my tools. I have shaped public discussion and policy while staying in the shadows.

"Now it is time for you to make a choice. Do you want to shape history and guide our Empire in its return to galactic glory?" The display behind him came to life, and I saw a beautiful sight: my wife. She was watering the plants in our backyard. Tears welled in my eyes. I knew the terrible choice he was going to lay before me.

"I take care of my employees, as you can clearly see. Your wife and children are happy and healthy. You can stay with me, or you are free to go. Just know that if you choose to leave, I will no longer protect your family.

"Your quarters are one deck down, room seven thirteen. You have one day to consider your position." The man stood up and walked out of the room. He passed within arm's reach, and I wanted to grab him and beat him senseless. All I had the energy to do though was bury my head in my hands.


Three days later, I received a message from my wife. She thanked received the first paycheck showing my promotion and scolded me for keeping it a secret until now. The kids were doing fine in school, the neighbors upgraded their entertainment suite, and on and on.

Part of me knew that I had been broken, both physically and mentally. The thought of working for the Centurion, or for the Tal Shiar, made me want to do horrible things to myself. But my resolve had been destroyed. All I cared about was survival. And survival meant showing up for my shift a dierha early so that I could show dedication and work on upgrading the weapons suite.



Captain Everitt Carter rose from his desk with a smile. He left the ready room and walked over to Lieutenant Commander Hillel's station on the bridge. "Let's take a walk," he said as he gestured to the turbolift.

"I just received a message from the Ross," Carter began. "They witnessed a rare event - a Romulan ship attacking and destroying another one on the edge of the Federation-Klingon border. A Mogai was ambushed by a very large ship with a configuration we've never seen before. It looked Reman, though the weapons were certainly based on a Borg design. Preliminary reports indicate that the Mogai was the one that attacked the Midnight Breeze as cover for picking up the Romulan spy."

The men walked in silence for a few seconds. Hillel scratched at his growing facial hair, and then responded. "This means that the admiralty is even more upset that I didn't stop the spy while I had the chance."

Carter stopped walking and faced the younger man. "No one is finding fault in your actions. We didn't know that they would attack the transport. Don't hold yourself responsible for the leak. If anything, the admiralty is to blame for letting a Romulan sympathizer into our ranks.

"Anyway, it turns out that they had a reason to suspect an infiltrator, so some of the information presented at the conference was false. The breakthrough in transwarp tunneling at the ch'Zahn Observatory near the T'Ong Nebula was completely fabricated. As we speak, Federation and Klingon forces are mining the area and preparing for an ambush. Your perceived failure to catch one spy may lead us to the capture or destruction of a large Tal Shiar asset."

"Surely the Romulans know better than to warp into a system when there is a Federation task force nearby."

Carter smiled. "Who said that the Defiant was the only Federation vessel with cloaking technology?"

Last edited by superhombre777; 05-21-2013 at 08:12 PM.
Join Date: Jun 2012
Posts: 1,297
# 37
05-26-2013, 08:33 AM
It had been three years...

Three years of struggling.

Three years of the pain and the nightmares, three years since she became one with the elements, three years since he had been taken into the darkness that would become all that he knew. Each breath pulling him closer to this moment, each moment of consciousness agonizingly reminding him of what was taken. Vengeance would be his.

For years he was Vrel T'Sod, husband, father, scientist, Romulan. He studied anomalies under the remnants of the once proud Romulan Star Empire, he made an honest living for his love and his life, his wife and son aboard one of the few war birds re-purposed for scientific exploration. Life had been good to him up until they found the Iconian Device floating adrift in an asteroid belt. He'd been on the team assigned to study it, but it wasn't long until every thing he knew was ripped from him.

It was during one of the late shift that they came, weapons blazing corridors taking who they wanted, disintegrating every one else. There was no warning, no alerts, no hint that anything was wrong until the screaming started. Vrel had been in the lab with the rest of the team trying to unlock the device's coding to even begin to try and understand its function when it began. Even as the realization sunk in that they were under attack there was no sign of anything happening, no lights flickering, no shaking from torpedo hits, nothing. Nothing but the terrified yells of his fellow crewmen. He turned with a panicked look to his superior officer who simply said "Go".

He ran to the door as fast as he could and sealed it behind him starting an encryption program for the lock as he took off down the hall towards his quarters. He had been the only member of the study team with family aboard the ship, the others were fully capable of holding the Lab if need be, the Sub Commander knew it would have been a waste to order him to stay. At least that's what he told himself to keep from thinking the worst as he ran towards his family. There were visible blast marks along the walls and floor from grenades as he ran,eachone driving him faster. As he reached their quarters Vrel felt a relief as the hall way was clear of any signs of combat or explosion.

He entered the security code and as the door slide open he was suddenly blasted by a sudden strike that sent him into the wall directly across from the door. There before him was a Borg Drone standing in the door way, maybe freshly assimilated as he could still recognize the uniform underneath as Tal Shiar. Then the drone smiled and he realized... Tal Shiar. He ship hadn't been under attack from the Borg but the Empire itself. He'd heard that the Federation had successfully undone assimilation, was this the Tal Shiars attempt, this half man half machine before him? It stepped aside and Vrel could see his wifein tears, holding his motionless son in one arm as she began to reach for him with her other hand. He was pretty sure that half of his ribs had been broken by the impact, but he leapt to his feet anyway making for his wife.

There was a green flash as he reached for her, his face showed the shock of the blast before his mind even registered what happened. A tear streaked down his face as he held her hand as it slowly turned to ash in his, both her and his lifeless child disappearing slowly before his eyes. The blinding pain in his hand meant nothing as her flesh seared against his, the pain in his ribs was drowned out by that of his heart as she tried to tell him "I love you" one last time, but there were no longer lungs to help produce her beautiful voice. He dropped to his knees suddenly numbed and reached for the wall where she was sitting. They hadn't been grenade burns after all but the only remains of crew and their families as the Tal Shiar worked its way presumably to the lab for the Iconian artifact.

He turned and jumped at the man who murdered his family only to be knocked unconscious instantly by the agent who had been behind him just waiting to strike. He wouldn't regain consciousness for what seemed like days. He'd spent months being interrogated, being forced to continue the research on the device, and being tortured for no reason at the hands of the very people he was supposed to be working for. And once the research had been finished and their usefulness was at an end a man stepped forward and found a new use. The were to be re-purposed into test subjects for his own personal experiments. The man was known only as Hakeev.

The senior officers were the first to disappear from their cells. Vrel couldn't tell if he were on a station, ship, or planet, there was no sensation of movement but the clear hum of a Singularity Core. Every so many days another scientist was removed from their cell never to return, and when there were only two others left Vrel, mostly out of fear and desperation took the way out he could find. An escape that wouldn't last sadly as he woke up in sick bay... No, not sick bay... He was on a bed surrounded by numerous surgical tools, many of which he couldn't recognize, but this was no medical facility, it was a laboratory, and there above him stood Hakeev with an almost proud look on his face.

"I almost though we'd lost you. I'd actually bet the lieutenant that we'd lost Subject 817-A. It looks like I owe him an osol twist. Don't worry though, your little stunt bought you enough time for me to perfect my technique on your colleagues so you'll make it out of this with as little disfigurement as possible. I apologize in advance however," Hakeev smirked underneath the surgical mask "the Borg do not use anesthetics."

He had blacked out during the operation and came to in what he could only assume was a Borg alcove surrounded by what was left of his crewmen and a few other prisoners, most of which had been partially assimilated. While not fully Drones, they'd had their limbs replaced with Borg technology, some showing implants poorly adapted surgically, and most scarred beyond recognition. As his own optical implant scanned the others there was a definite improvement to the work until you got to the crew from his ship. By the last two he'd seen, the implant was indistinguishable from what he'd seen in the reports. He wasn't there long how ever as the station was taken by Starfleet shortly after.

After being rescued by a ship called the U.S.S. Geist Vrel and a few others were lucky enough to have most of the implants removed. While many of his own weren't able to be taken out, Vrel was able to return to his previous appearance. Most of the subjects were stuck looking like the monsters Hakeev had turned them into with his experiments into assimilation. He underwent Physical Therapy from a perky young nurse, maybe a Betazoid, as the Geist took him and the others to a colony in the Tau Dewa sector. The implants were something to get used to as was a lot of the information they fed straight into his brain something he was able to make use of as he adapted to life in the colony doing what ever odd jobs he could. Jobs like studying the wildlife or helping convert old ships into needed water purification systems and such.

Just as it seemed he had found what was left of his Romulan self, just as he was starting to make new friends and a place for himself it was all ripped away again as the colony was attacked. He managed to escape in a shuttle and get to separatist group: The Romulan Republic, led by a man named D'Tan, one of Spocks unificationists. D'Tan himself was a man of peace but he'd heard Vrel T'Sod's story from some of the other refugees and he saw the chance for a broken man to redeem himself. Commander T'Sod however saw a chance for something else... Revenge. It wasn't until he spoke to D'Tan himself that he was given a purpose, a reason to go on, a chance to get what he wanted most and to that end he would do what was asked going where he was needed gathering information along the way.

Each investigation, each mission, each Tal Shiar ship taken was another piece to a puzzle, a puzzle Vrel T'Sod obsessed over secretly, confiding in only his senior staff and D'Tan himself. For two years he'd done every thing asked of him, for two years he'd been D'Tan's lapdog until he finally found the first link in what was going to be a very long chain. D'Merik, Commander of the Tal Shiar War bird Lshian would be making a raid on another colony. What was once a rare occurrence of a colony disappearing, ghost stories if anything, became a full scale attack on the Romulan people where fleets of unknown origin were being led by the Tal Shiar to colonies then wiped from existence. D'Merik was only one man of one ship, the captain of a battle cruiser that had been built out of adapted Borg technology, but more importantly he was the man that took his family.

Over the course of his work for the Romulan Republic he'd learned of a Tal Shiar Commander, one who had been a willing test subject to adapt Borg technology for use in rebuilding the once might Romulan Star Empire. It wasn't until he'd found a visual record of him that Vrel had found his first step of a darker path. He'd been honest with his crew and senior staff and they were behind him. With the largest fleet D'Tan was able to provide, they ambushed the Lshian as it was attempting to take another colony. The battle itself had been hard and there were heavy casualties on both sides. In the fray Commander T'Sod was able to take the Lshian in low atmosphere beaming over his entire crew before his own ship had fell to the ground leaving a massive crater. As the crew took the ship deck by deck gave the order over the ship wide comm that D'Merik was his and his alone.

To say followed would be an understatement, tracked would be an injustice. No, Vrel hunted D'Merik down like an animal, like hell itself had opened with the sole need to end just one life. The battle raged around them and neither man seemed to notice as they fought, eventually ending up in engineering the battered and beaten Vrel kept coming. D'Merik had every advantage yet he couldn't beat this one man as he went for the warp core were he would use the singularity inside to destroy the whole ship and stop this demon chasing him. He didn't make it how ever. As he reached the console and reached out he was stopped by the sharp pain of a jagged piece of metal in his back. Vrel had used shrapnel from a nearby console to incapacitate the half assimilated monstrosity before him.

It would never know how much he hated it, it would never know just to what depths Vrel hated it, but he would bring it as close to understanding as he possibly could before making it one with the elements. T'Sod could see the confusion in it's eyes, the fear. The only thing that would could keep him sane was to negate it to the monster that it was, the animal that acted on orders of it's master Hakeev, a simple beast that couldn't be left to roam free.

"I SURRENDER!!!" it yelled as it crawled away from the console.

"Not interested..." Vrel said coldly, his eyes never leaving those of his prey.

"But you're working with the Federation-"

"A means to an end..."

"But you-"

"Your end..."

It whimpered and struggled to push away.

"You can't do this... We're trying to rebuild an empire, we've sacrificed so much. We march under the Raptors Wings for the Legacy of Romulus."

Vrel unholstered one of his Plasma pistols and shot D'Merik in his thigh, not enough power to do too much damage, but enough to burn a large portion of the leg.

It howled in pain.

"Why are you doing this? What did I do to you?"

Vrel placed another shot into D'merik's shoulder causing it to go limp and useless. He then grabbed the pitiful creature and tossed him against the railing of the Singularity Engine. D'Merik had to use all the strength left in his good arm and leg just to keep from falling either down or over. As it balanced itself Vrel hit it as hard as he could with the hand guard of his pistol breaking both it and D'Merik's jaw. He pulled off his glove and held up his hand which still showed the scars of a smaller hand burned into it. Immediately D'Merik's eyes widened and Vrel saw the understanding there in the shear terror.

It had been three years...

Three years of struggling.

Three years of the pain and the nightmares, three years she since she became one with the elements, three years since he had been taken into the darkness that would become all that he knew. Each breath pulling him closer to this moment, each moment of consciousness agonizingly reminding him of what was taken.

Vrel removed a small vial from his belt and opened it dousing D'Merik. Neither man said a word, not a single noise aside from the hum of the engines. Neither man even moved a muscle, not even blinking as their eyes remained locked. Everything going in slow motion as it seemed the earth beneath them moved, stuck in the intensity of the moment rather than the battle outside. Vrel fired a single shot into the torso igniting the other man who burned green Vrel leaned back and opened the hatch to the Core Ejection system. He fired once more, a low intensity burst into the face the man who murdered his wife and child, sending him over the railing, still aflame, still alive and conscious as he fell thousands of kilometers to his death burning the whole way down.

He collapsed against the console in pain, closing the hatch as he tried to stand. The ship was his now, and with it he would find the man responsible for his agony. He would find every link in this chain of vengeance and use it to end the man. Nothing would stand in his way and the galaxy itself would burn if it stood in his way and D'Merik was only the first step.

Last edited by wraithshadow13; 05-26-2013 at 08:40 AM.
Join Date: Jun 2012
Posts: 9,041
# 38
05-28-2013, 03:45 PM

Great intros, all! Feel free to continue writing your intros if you'd like, but I'm going to unstick this as I prepare to post challenge #43.


Brandon =/\=
Join Date: Aug 2012
Posts: 4
# 39
05-30-2013, 01:56 PM
((i know that I am late to this party, but I just saw the challenge earlier this week.

My Romulan character really surprised me. I initially envisioned him as an old grognard, product of long campaigns and long service to the government. As he listened to the representatives on Kitomer, I thought for sure he would go Klingon. This is the story of what happened to change his mind.

Comments and criticisms are welcome. It's a mature scene, for those who might need a warning of such things.))

Her pale skin glistened in the faint light as she crawled out of bed. The room smelled of sex and the coppery tang of sweat. He watched her as she crossed to a chair and began to gather her clothing.

"Does it ever get heavy?" he asked in the semidarkness. "The uniform?"

She grunted, tossing her auburn hair off her shoulders as she slipped on a pair of functional, Starfleet issued, black underwear. "Does yours?" the tall woman nodded in the direction of his closed closet. S'Tolan pulled himself up in bed, wincing at the sound of every cracking joint. He settled his back against the Spartan headboard.

"Sometimes," he confessed. "That's why I keep it in there." Her lips curled into a smirk as she carried her bundle to the bed and plopped on its corner. "It suits you, you know," she told him as she pulled a dark stocking up over her calf. "I watched some old captures. You looked," she struggled to find the correct word as she pulled another sock from the pile, "honorable. Every centimeter a commanding officer."

He looked towards the closet, then returned his gaze to the half-naked Starfleet officer at the foot of his bed. "You didn't answer the question." She looked back at him as she tugged and pulled black pants over pleasantly curved hips. "I'm not even sure I understand what you mean, S'Tolan."

The old man rubbed the ridges of his forehead and his bald pate as he thought. "The regulations. Your Prime Directive. That uniform is a symbol of hope for many, a target for others."

"It's not like I follow all the regulations," she answered, deftly maneuvering a bra over her breasts and fastening its clasp at her back.

"Technically," he countered, "you're not in my chain of command."

"I'm sure that will go over well at my fraternization hearing." The woman lifted her shoulders in a shrug before pulling a tunic over them. "If you don't like regulations, you should have sided with the Klingons," she told him.

"You ever bed a Klingon, Jal?" he said. "These bones don't heal like they used to." Jal's long hair swayed back and forth as she shook her head in mock disbelief. He heard a quiet chuckle as she lifted up the edge of her tunic to point out a long scar on her back, faint in the low light.

"I am delighted that you take your cross cultural liaison work so seriously." A short, sharp bark of laughter echoed in the room. Jal shifted closer to S'Tolan and laid a hand on the gray hair of his exposed chest. Her skin felt cool against his. She leaned over to brush her lips across his nose.


"Your accent is getting better," he said. Her grin exposed the lines and wrinkles of her own face. "I am also thankful that you've decided to treat this old man with a more gentle touch." Her smile widened and she let her lips linger on his with a kiss.

"Seriously, S'Tolan," she continued. "Why did you decide to ally with us? I know Sugihara turned you off to Federation at the conference on Kitomer."

"The man does prattle, doesn't he?" Jal nodded her head as the old Romulan answered, then waited for him to continue. "I was going to side with the Klingons right up until I talked to their representative in the flotilla," he confessed.

Jal gave him more time. "When I was young," S'Tolan finally explained, "the Star Empire needed soldiers. We, as a people, needed to band together to protect our way of life." He sighed. "I was naive. I believed it. I became want my people said they needed. A soldier."

"After the cataclysm?" He paused to rub his hand over his ridges and skull, settling it on her shoulder. "After the cataclysm, we needed farmers and builders. No one had to tell us this. It was clear. I became what my people needed. I took off my uniform and picked up the tools of a workman's trade." His fingers twiddled with the ends of her hair. Sight of a few strands of gray raised a smile on his face.

"And now, my people need soldiers again, not only to protect our very lives or our way of life, but to protect our home. No one needs to tell me this. It is clear." He swallowed. His eyes lowered. "The Klingon spoke of a life of vengeance, revenge against the Tal Shiar for the crimes they committed against their own people." His eyes lifted and found hers.

"I don't want a life of vengeance, a life of fighting. I will serve the needs of my people for a little while longer, then I will return to our new world, pick up tools, and build my own life, my own legacy" Her lips found his once again.

Jal stood and pulled her jacket over her shoulders. She walked towards the door and paused with her hand on the latch. "Sometimes," she murmured, "It does, get heavy. The uniform." Her head turned towards where he lay on the bed. "It feels good to take it off," her eyes traveled around the room, "here, with you."

S'Tolan nodded once then spoke. "I will see you on the bridge."

Last edited by rexcelestis; 05-31-2013 at 05:36 AM.
Join Date: Jul 2012
Posts: 4,455
# 40 Shadows of the Past, Pt. I
06-03-2013, 06:17 PM
Your love is cradled in knowing,
Eyes in the mirror,
Still expecting they'll come,
And sensing too well, when the journey is done
There is no turning back, no,
There is no turning back on the run...

- Robert Plant, Big Log


Virinat smelled like green. And fertilizer, of course, but mostly green. Nniol tr'Keiniadh took a deep breath of the air. It had been a day of hard work, not unusual on a Rihannsu colony world, especially since the loss of ch'Rihan some twenty cycles before; it had also been a little bizarre, what with the behavior of the bugs and that strange cybernetic insect Nniol had found in the cave. That was someone else's worry, though. Nniol had been practicing not worrying about things for almost a local year, and he was starting to get pretty good at it.

Tonight was no night for worry anyway. Harvest Festival! A night of partying, gorging as if food had never been in short supply, and perhaps an evening with a lovely young lady or two - the entire colony had been looking forward to this night. Word was that D'Vex had even smuggled in some fireworks, harmless but made contraband recently by the increasingly-aggressive Tal Shiar, the new de facto government of the Empire under Sela, that half-breed-- Nniol consciously stopped himself, taking another deep breath. Not your problem these days, remember, Nniol? Let someone who's still under her thumb worry about that...

Nniol's comlink beeped. He activated the screen; his young friend Tovan, a technician from the starport repair facility, looked out at him. "Are you done in the fields yet, Nniol?"

"Yes, I finished up about half an hour ago."

"Great. Come meet me at the square - they're about to open the new vintage of ale!"

Nniol grinned. Rumor was that someone had managed to tweak the fermentation of the khellid nectar to make something that actually tasted like proper Romulan ale! "I'll be right there, Tovan. Save me a mug!"

"No promises, Nniol," Tovan laughed. "Better get over here before I drink it all myself!"

"On my way!" Nniol signed off, then started jogging toward the square.


"My friends! Welcome to Virinat's Harvest Festival!" The Maiori, smiling like a born politician, droned on from the podium, going on about "new friends" and "old losses"; the crowd was tolerant, but clearly far more interested in decanting the new ale than listening to his speech. At last the old man wound down. "And so,
without further ado, let the Festival begin!"

The cries were loud and lusty as the fireworks began erupting overhead; abruptly, however, the cries turned to screams as a strange black ship loomed overhead. A green ball of plasma burned its way through the sky, exploding as it hit a nearby silo.

"Nniol! Nniol, are you all right?"

Nniol blinked, and blinked again, clearing away the haze. Tovan knelt over him. "How did I get down here?" Nniol asked, stunned.

"The explosion. We're under attack, Nniol! I have to get to the port and help get the shuttles ready to evacuate! Go round up people and send them to the field! And see if you can find the milita!"

Nniol shook his head to clear it. Tovan ran off toward the field as he got up. Nearby, he saw a group of the local militia, unused to fighting anything but the local fauna, trying desperately to look cool and confident as they grasped their plasma rifles. At that moment, another explosion struck, blinding Nniol; as the dust cleared, he saw that the entire group had been felled. Feeling trapped in a dream, he saw himself running forward, grabbing one of the rifles, shouldering it expertly, and firing at the point the grenade had come from. A warrior in the uniform of the Tal Shiar fell from the rooftop, screaming momentarily.

Tal Shiar?? How did they find me-- no, Nniol. That's not important right now. Get these people out of here while there's still time!

His comlink beeped. "Nniol? Nniol, are you there?"

He pulled it up. "I'm here, Tovan. I think most of the militia are dead."

"Elements! Listen, Nniol, we have to evacuate the colony. But we need help, too. Can you get to a comm panel?"

"Probably, but the power's down. I can't get a signal out."

"Sure you can. Get to one of the cameras in the market, get a battery out, and jack that into a comm panel. Then hit the Distress button. That should give you enough power for at least a moment or two; it's not like you're delivering a speech to the Senate, just screaming 'Help!"

"Okay, I'll give it a try. tr'Keiniadh out." He replaced the comlink at his belt, realizing a moment too late that he'd closed with precise military phrasing. I'll probably have to explain that one later, if the Elements favor us. I'd better try to think up a good story first.

The plaza was crossed with beams and bursts of plasma, as the colonists tried vainly to battle the far superior Tal Shiar forces. "To the field!" Nniol shouted. "Everyone to the launching field! We have to evacuate! Move, move, move!!!" Colonists began heading toward the launching fields, as Nniol provided covering fire with his rifle. Long-ago training, virtually unused for over six cycles, came unbidden to him: Lead the target; blast speed is affected by local magnetic fields. Aiming software activated - thank Fire and Air this unit's equipped. Always identify your target before shooting. As the crowd moved away, Nniol worked his way across the plaza, dashing from cover to cover, picking off Tal Shiar along the way. At last he reached a wall overlooking a silo entrance next to the market; a camera hung there, its optics charred and blasted in the attack. Air and Earth watch over me, Nniol prayed, and let the battery be untouched!

He jimmied the case open, and found his prayers answered. A few moments' prying, and his prize lay in his hand. Now for the next part - where's a comm console? Ah, over there. Firing one-handed now, Nniol crossed to the comm panel at the market's exit, frying down the two Tal Shiar assigned to guard it. He stepped over their heated corpses, wrinkling his nose for a moment at the stench of burned flesh and boiled copper and the ancient memories it revived, then accessed the battery panel, plugged the battery in, and powered the console up. "Attention, any ships within range!" he said into the mic. "This is Virinat Colony, Nniol tr'Keiniadh speaking. We are under attack, I repeat, we are under attack! Mixed forces, Tal Shiar and unidentified aliens! Don't bother replying, just respond to our location immediately, please! Location beacon will remain active as long as possible! Repeating..." He switched the console to autorepeat, then began making his own way to the launch field.

A new wrinkle emerged; Nniol saw colonists flying into the air, seemingly unsupported. What in--? Then he saw the creatures, similar in shape to the cyborg insects he'd seen earlier, but much larger, grasping people by their torsos and dragging them screaming toward the massive black ship that still hovered overhead. He tried to shoot some of them down, but between their speed and the hostages he feared harming, he might as well have been shooting at spirits. He redoubled his efforts to reach the launching platform.

Finally he reached the ramp to the platform. "Thank the Elements!" Tovan shouted. "I'm pretty sure we've got all the survivors aboard the shuttles. We're headed for the ships in orbit. Get aboard - we'll take D'Vex's old Warbird, he's shown me some tricks we can use!"

"Just a moment," Nniol replied. Turning, he burned down the three Tal Shiar soldiers who'd been trailing him. "Okay, here I come!"
"Science teaches us to expect -- demand -- more than just eerie mysteries. What use is a puzzle that can't be solved? Patience is fine, but I'm not going to stop asking the universe to make sense!" - David Brin, "Those Eyes"

Last edited by jonsills; 06-03-2013 at 06:19 PM.

Thread Tools
Display Modes

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is Off
HTML code is Off

All times are GMT -7. The time now is 05:55 AM.