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 The Captain's Shorts

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Archangel T'Koris
Captain
Captain


Starfleet Starfleet Award of Merit Command
1 Year Service
Art Contribution
Completed Plot and Bio Page
Participated in the first mission
Posts : 1715
Join date : 2014-06-27

PostSubject: The Captain's Shorts   Sat Feb 07, 2015 6:22 pm

(Yes, the title made me laugh.  I couldn't resist it)

I'll be posting a variety of short pieces here, generally concerning elements from my characters' past, pieces that might explain or develop on things that happened to them before their respective careers in Starfleet.

Please note that I generally can't be bothered doing countless rewrites of these, so they're not very good.  They're just there so I can get them out of my head ^^

Contents:
Zero Alpha 1 - The Raid on Kincaede's Lab
Archangel T'Koris 1 - Interventions
Archangel T'Koris 2 - Wish Upon a Star
Ilana Telak 1 - Discovery
Zero Alpha 2 - Unwanted Contact [Trigger warning - Torture]
Archangel T'Koris 3 - Her'u'le
Archangel T'Koris/Zero Alpha - Breakfast with the Captain
Archangel T'Koris 4 - Dark of the Night

_______________________________


Rachel Deacon | Archangel T'Koris | Zero Alpha | Ilana Telak | Mira | Persephone M'Rai
|  Now she's stronger than you know, a heart of steel starts to grow  |


Last edited by Archangel T'Koris on Sun Jan 10, 2016 7:50 pm; edited 8 times in total
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Archangel T'Koris
Captain
Captain


Starfleet Starfleet Award of Merit Command
1 Year Service
Art Contribution
Completed Plot and Bio Page
Participated in the first mission
Posts : 1715
Join date : 2014-06-27

PostSubject: Re: The Captain's Shorts   Sat Feb 07, 2015 6:23 pm

[Zero Alpha]
The Raid on Kincaede's Lab

The chamber was always so peaceful and quiet. The gel that the doctor used absorbed most of the sounds, leaving his projects with the soft hum of machinery, the quiet rasp of their breathing, and the regular beat of their heart. He had offered to let her listen to music through the earpiece he used to communicate with her during her twice-weekly examination in the gel chamber, but she had found that she quite liked the near silence. It was restful. The gel was warm and just dense enough for her to float in it. The face mask allowed her to breathe and open her eyes should she wish, but she often found herself dozing through the scans. There was something about it that reminded her of being in the womb. Or rather, that's what she thought it would be like. She had never seen the inside of a biological womb. The girl that stood in the gel chamber had actually been grown in one as the first, and so far only, of Doctor Kincaede's genetically engineered embryos to yield a viable life form, designation: Alpha 01419

She was awoken from her dozing by a voice coming through the ear piece, opening her eyes and looking over toward the man standing behind a bank of consoles. The sight was distorted by the curve of the transparasteel and the gel she was encased in, but there was only one person on the station that it could be.
"Examinations complete. Drainage in progress," Doctor Kincaede's voice told her shortly before the low sound of the chamber's machinery took over, starting to get rid of the gel.

It didn't take long for the substance to be evacuated, allowing the pale girl's feet to touch down on the metal base of the chamber and then, with a quiet hiss of depressurisation, the two halves of the transparasteel tube separated, allowing her to step down, as naked as the day she had first emerged from the chamber, and faced the doctor as he finished compiling the last of the data from that day's scans, comparing it to the charts made from the previous scans in order to mark any changes.
"Your physical maturity has increased by another .13%, Alpha. I estimate that you are at 67% of your total physical maturity. It would be logical to assume tha tyou are entering your second period of accelerated growth, known as puberty."
"Understood, Doctor," Alpha replied, her voice even and measured, used in the very exact and precise manner that she had been taught since she had begun speaking.
"Good. Now, go perform your ablutions and dress yourself. I will expect you to join me in the laboratory for your lessons in thirty minutes precisely." With an inclination of her head, Alpha turned and left the lab, heading for the small section of living quarters adjacent.

After a short shower to clean of the remnants of gel clinging to her naked skin, she clothed herself in the plain, utilitarian attire she had worn her whole life and returned to the lab as she had been ordered. As she did so, she paused in the doorway into the main lab, frowning slightly as she looked back over her shoulder, back into the white corridor. There was something in her back of her mind, a feeling, an itch between her shoulder blades that reminded her of the times that Doctor Kincaede would scrutinise her physical form intently, looking for any form of imperfection. She brushed it off. There were no people in the lab other than herself and Doctor Kincaede. She knew that to be fact. It wasn't logical to think that there could be anyone else. The lab was on an uncharted asteroid, far off the main shipping routes. No one was likely to just stumble upon them.

Doctor Kincaede looked up from the console he was working at, nodding in acknowledgement of Alpha's entry, then frowning slightly as he studied her face a little more closely.
"Is there something amiss, Alpha?" he asked.
"An emotional response with no logical backing, Doctor. I will purge it immediately."
"Excellent. Now, I want you to continue your experimental simulations with-"

Before Doctor Kincaede could finish his sentence, all of the lights went out. Consoles. Overhead lighting. Even the bacterial culture bays were dark. Alpha swallowed hard, finding herself disorientated and unsure of what was happening. She reached out a hand, feeling the edge of a small cargo crate that had delivered supplies for their research only a couple of days ago. It provided her with a reference to construct a mental image of the rest of the lab.
"Doctor?" she voiced warily, seeking some form of reassurance.
"Do not fear, Alpha," came the calm reply. "The dark is not to be feared. I have a beacon stored under the console. We will be able to rectify this situation rapidly."

As the light from one beacon flashed into being, a dozen more assaulted her eyes, their bearers crashing through the door into the lab, the dance of lights illuminating phase rifles and black clothing and helmets obscuring the faces of the invaders and then there was Doctor Kincaede yelling at her to run, to get herself to safety. She almost didn't hear him for the strength of thudding in her ears. Her body was slamming her with so many new sensations: the iron band around her chest, restricting her breathing to short gasps, the inability to form any kind of coherent thought, the disobedience of her legs as she tried to get away. She finally managed to unstick her feet, turning and intending to run to the door on the other side of the lab, away from the invaders, when she felt a gloved hand grab hold of her white hair, dragging her back and to the ground in a sharp snapping motion that tore a scream from her throat, this new sensation of unexpected pain coming as a shock that she couldn't understand. The hands roughly bundled her into the cargo crate, stuffing her into the small space without care, slamming the lid shut with a loud clang that reverberated through Alpha's skull. Despite the daze that weighed on her mental processes, she still heard the locking mechanisms engage on the outside and the unfamiliar sensation of panic rose through her chest, primal and terrifying, blocking out all of her higher reasoning as she screamed and kicked and clawed at the walls of a crate barely big enough for her to curl up in.

There was no manner in which Alpha could measure the passing of time. Her body eventually betrayed her, tiring of the fight to escape her dark prison. Her voice was raw from her screams, her hands and feet battered and bloody. No one had answered her pleas to be let out, to know what was happening, even for water. She knew that the crate had been moved twice, once shortly after she had been thrown into it, the second only just recently. She pushed herself up into as much of a sitting position as she could as she heard the locking mechanisms disengage.

The lid opened, flooding the space inside with harsh light that forced her to squint against it. A hand reached in, grabbing her arms and hauling her out to stand in a lab not unlike the one she had just left. Hands grabbed her again, stripping the thin clothing she was wearing from her body. She drew herself up to stand properly and proud, just as she had always been taught, as she scanned those present. She recognised the uniforms as being those of Starfleet, a military and exploratory organisation associated with the United Federation of Planets. Most were wearing blue uniforms and lab coats, marking them out as scientists or medical personnel. A handful were wearing yellow, meaning that they were assigned to the operation of the installations, but the weapons they had trained on her told her that they were security officers. And then there was the one man in red, his rank points marking him as an Admiral.
"Identify yourself," Alpha ordered. The Admiral struck fast, the back of his hand hitting her cheek. Her head snapped to the side with the force of the blow.
"You don't make demands around here," he snapped. "You are nothing. You are less than nothing. You have no rights here. Kincaede's little pet project has been terminated and if it had been left up to me, so would you have been. Starfleet Command, on the other hand, thinks otherwise. Under Federation law, you're still a minor, and it seems that someone in Command is soft-hearted when it comes to kids, even freak kids like you." He stepped back from the Augment, looking to his officers. "Record everything you can. Every test you can think of, do it. I want to know everything."
A blue-shirted Vulcan nodded to him. "Acknowledged, Admiral Corinth."

_______________________________


Rachel Deacon | Archangel T'Koris | Zero Alpha | Ilana Telak | Mira | Persephone M'Rai
|  Now she's stronger than you know, a heart of steel starts to grow  |
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Archangel T'Koris
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Captain


Starfleet Starfleet Award of Merit Command
1 Year Service
Art Contribution
Completed Plot and Bio Page
Participated in the first mission
Posts : 1715
Join date : 2014-06-27

PostSubject: Re: The Captain's Shorts   Sat Feb 07, 2015 8:18 pm

[Archangel T'Koris]
Interventions

The little girl was in her usual place, kneeling on the couch, arms folded on the back of it as she stared out of the viewport, eyes fixed on the stars. He was late. Over a week late. That wasn't like him. He was never late. She was an odd-looking child though. Her long black hair had been pulled into two conservative plaits which came very close to hiding the tapered points of her ears, but they still poked through. Her eyebrows were also slanted, almost marking her out as a Vulcan had it not been for the two prominent ridges in a V shape on her forehead.

Archangel glared out at the pinpricks of light, daring them to keep her father from her. He had been gone for nearly a month now. He had never been gone this long without at least sending a subspace message to her and, while the five-year-old was aware that sometimes people went out into space and didn't come back, she remained determined that that wasn't the case.


[Four weeks earlier]

The little girl skipped into the shuttle bay, making a game of not stepping on the cracks between the deck plates before running to where her father was preparing his shuttle for launch. He turned around at the sound of her approach, smiling and catching the girl as she ran into his arms, lifting her up and spinning her around as he hugged her tightly.
"Ah, there's my little bird!" he declared, delight in his voice. "Come to see me off?"
Archangel laughed aloud, her arms around the Romulan's neck as she hugged him back. "Always, Daddy!" she replied before she took on a more inquisitive tone. "When will you be back?"
Subcommander Tr'Koris put the little girl back down on her feet, crouching down to her level and tapping her lightly on the nose with one finger. "Now, now, little bird. You know I can't tell you when I'll be back exactly," he told her, but seemed to relent in the face of her disappointed expression. "I should be back in two weeks, Dhael. Possibly three. I won't abandon you to your mother."
"Can't I come with you?"
The look on the Romulan's face was a decidedly melancholy one. "That's not possible yet, you know that. When you're older, I'll take you to the Homeworld. Every Romulan should see the Homeworld at least once and feel pride that we are such a noble race."
"Promise?"
"I promise, little bird," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, between her brow ridges. "I love you, Dhael. Always remember that. Now run along to the safe zone or you'll make me late."

Hugging her father one last time, Archangel reluctantly walked back to the designated safe area where she could watch as her father climbed into his shuttle and took off, heading back across the Neutral Zone and back to Romulus.


[Present]

That had been four weeks ago. Now, Archangel found herself staring out of any window that looked out onto the Romulan Star Empire, hoping that her father was going to come back soon. With each passing day, this behaviour seemed to irritate her mother more and more.

The junior JAG officer sighed as she walked back into her quarters to find her daughter still staring out of the viewport.
"Archangel, come away from there. There's no need for you to be moping after that Romulan like this," she scolded, folding her arms.
"He said two to three weeks, mother!" the child protested. "It's been more than four!"
"I said, that's enough!"

Archangel turned to look at her mother, her dark eyes wide. Her mother didn't generally lose her temper like that. The young woman sighed, apparently at her wits' end with the child. She stepped forward, taking hold of the girl's arm.
"Come on, Archangel. We're going to see a friend of mine."

Since she didn't appear to have much of a choice in the matter, Archangel let herself be half-dragged by her mother through the residential area of the starbase, occasionally waving to people she knew. Several of the yellow-uniformed officers smiled and waved back, members of the engineering teams that Archangel generally enjoyed pestering and following about in the course of their duty.

They arrived in front of a non-descript door in the visitor's quarters of the residential section. Lieutenant Walker pressed the chime and stepped through as soon as the duranium doors slid apart. Inside appeared to be the standard, modular, non-descript quarters that characterised the station. There was a man there, waiting for them. He started talking to Lieutenant Walker, but Archangel tuned them out, not interested in the conversation happening high above her head. Had her mother not been keeping a steel grip on her hand, she likely would have wandered off to explore.

The man suddenly crouched down in front of her, scrutinising her face before taking her chin in his hand, turning her head this way and that. Archangel gave a slight sound of surprise and disapproval, starting to take a step back and out of this strange examination, but her mother's hand kept her standing where she was.
"I can do it," the strange man said.
"What are you-" the rest of Archangel's question was lost in a yelp of shock as a hypospray was jabbed into the side of her neck, releasing something into her bloodstream. Before the little girl could say or do anything else, she found herself sinking to the floor and into unconsciousness.


[Unknown time later]

The room was blessedly dark as Archangel opened her eyes again. She was lying on her bed, in her tiny bedroom, on top of the blankets, which was strange, but she thought nothing of it. Her head was splitting, a pain right across her forehead. Her stomach roiled, threatening to bring up whatever her last meal had been.

She rolled out of bed, staggering as her legs tried to buckle under her weight. Her shoulder banged against the bulkhead, but she was glad to have something solid to help her stay on her feet as her head swam, the room spinning around her. She found her dresser by colliding with it and called out for the lights, looking into the mirror. The girl that looked back… looked like her, but wasn't at the same time. She couldn't quite put her finger on why.

And then she saw why.

The little girl screamed, falling back onto the deck plates, one hand going up to her forehead. Her smooth forehead. Her fingers explored the alien feeling, the lack of the ridges that had marked her out as being Romulan. She felt the hot prickling of tears gathering in her eyes as she pulled herself back up to look at her reflection again, at the two faint scars that were all that remained of the v-shaped ridges.

_______________________________


Rachel Deacon | Archangel T'Koris | Zero Alpha | Ilana Telak | Mira | Persephone M'Rai
|  Now she's stronger than you know, a heart of steel starts to grow  |
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Archangel T'Koris
Captain
Captain


Starfleet Starfleet Award of Merit Command
1 Year Service
Art Contribution
Completed Plot and Bio Page
Participated in the first mission
Posts : 1715
Join date : 2014-06-27

PostSubject: Re: The Captain's Shorts   Fri Mar 20, 2015 6:25 pm

[Archangel T'Koris]
Wish Upon a Star

A young Romulan stood by an ornate window, looking out at the night's sky above Romulus' capital city.  It had been an eventful day, that much she knew.  Her ribs were currently reminding her of that fact as they twinged, residual pain from being healed only a few hours ago after Revek had accidentally broken them.  As she watched, one of the stars in the heavens flashed before growing smaller and disappearing.  The Discovery, leaving orbit and taking with it any hope she had of a rescue mission retrieving her.

She reached one hand over her shoulder so that her fingers would just touch the top of her tattoo, the marking that every Romulan child was given at birth so as to identify them as belonging to one house or another.   It burned and itched slightly, testament to the fact that a few elements had been added to it after her marriage.  Her new husband hadn't wasted any time in ensuring that she was marked as his and no one else's.  It wasn't a position she was happy in, but there hadn't been a lot of choice at the time.   The ship had been under attack, the shuttle carrying her and a few colleagues as well.  Revek was an enemy to the Empire and would have been hunted.  Facing overwhelming odds and with the knowledge that, if she didn't give the Romulans what they wanted, the Discovery wouldn't survive, Archangel had beamed herself onto the Romulan Warbird and accepted the role the Praetor wanted her to play: to combine her father's political power with his own by joining their Houses through her.

She glanced with some longing at the uniform jacket neatly folded on the window bench.  It was too hot on Romulus to be wearing a garment designed to keep her warm on a ship whose environmental controls were meant to simulate Earth, but the symbolism of having to take it off wasn't lost on her.    Oh, her new husband had been gracious enough to say that she was still allowed to serve in Starfleet, but she would have to spend all of her leave back on Romulus with him as well as making herself available whenever he called.

Just like a well-trained pet, she thought to herself in disgust, glaring at the reflection of herself that she could see in the window.  She already knew that going back to the Discovery was going to be difficult.  Revek likely wasn't going to be speaking to her if he was in a good mood after the stunt she had pulled, whether or not she had done it to try to help him.  She wasn't sure about Gabriel, but she was pretty sure he wouldn't be very happy with her either.

Hearing the door open behind her, she looked beyond her reflection to see a male silhouetted in the light left to spill through the doorway.  Praetor Alidar stepped into his opulent bedroom, smirking at his bride as he stepped up behind her, slipping one arm around her waist and one around her neck so that he could pull her to him.  Tracing the fingers of his hand over the curve of her throat, he nuzzled up to her ear, ignoring the tensing of her muscles.

"You will bear me many a fine heir, my ailhun," he murmured.  "The Tr'Koris line is known for its strength of body as well as its strength of mind."

The hand was now playing with the zip of her gold uniform shirt, starting to slide it down.  Archangel tore herself from his embrace with all the speed of a Starfleet Captain trying to avoid Ambassador Troi, turning on her heel so as to face him.

"No, I won't.  I may have been cornered into becoming your wife, but I will not mate with you!" she snarled.  A dark expression passed over Alidar's face as he seized her by the neck with none of the gentleness he had shown before.  This wasn't a gesture with a promise to pleasure.  This was a gesture with a promise to pain if she didn't cooperate with his demands.

"Like it or not, Dhael, you will be bearing my sons and daughters, even if I have to bring in the Ministry of Science to force you," he murmured, using his other hand to tilt her head slightly to one side as if he wanted to get a better look of the planes of her face in the dim light afforded by the planet's moons.

Without ceremony, he dropped her to the floor before stepping over her and heading for the large bed that was a prominent piece in the room.  The young woman coughed hoarsely, rubbing at her neck.  He looked back at her almost thoughtfully, one hand resting on the pillows.  "You have a choice, Dhael.  You can either share my bed as your marriage oath demands, or you can spend the night on the floor.  The decision is yours."

Archangel glared at the man who had become her husband for all the wrong reasons as she picked herself up, making no move to join him.  Instead, she made her way back over to the window, looking up at the stars, sending out a silent wish that the Discovery would come back for her soon.

"I hope the bed bugs keep you up all night," was her reply.

_______________________________


Rachel Deacon | Archangel T'Koris | Zero Alpha | Ilana Telak | Mira | Persephone M'Rai
|  Now she's stronger than you know, a heart of steel starts to grow  |
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Archangel T'Koris
Captain
Captain


Starfleet Starfleet Award of Merit Command
1 Year Service
Art Contribution
Completed Plot and Bio Page
Participated in the first mission
Posts : 1715
Join date : 2014-06-27

PostSubject: Re: The Captain's Shorts   Mon Jun 22, 2015 12:13 pm

[Ilana Telak]
Discovery

Commander Henderson of the USS Antares strolled along the deck of the freighter that had pulled over for inspection on Starfleet Command's orders.  Someone had tipped off the Federation's civilian traders' authority that the captain of the Prinadora, a man already known to follow a more Ferengi-like philosophy about trading, was dealing in illegal merchandise.  The Prinadora's profile had been posted out to all of Starfleet's ships with orders to stop and search it when and if it was spotted.  Unfortunately for the Antares, which had been en route to investigate a collapsing star, they had picked up a ship on sensors following that profile and were therefore responsible for carrying out the standing orders and investigating the allegations.

"I'm sure that this is nothing but a formality, Commander," the captain wheedled. "I have nothing to hide!"

"Of course, Captain Jared," Henderson replied evenly, attempting to keep the boredom out of his voice.  "This shouldn't take too long and then you can be on your way."  He had to make sure that it wouldn't take long.  They had been on a tight enough schedule as it was without having to deal with this and had pulled every qualified officer from the Antares for this search, assigning teams to search every deck while he searched this one.

As they walked, Captain Jared simpered more assurances that he was complying with all of the Federation's laws governing trade within Federation space, but Henderson just tuned them out after a few minutes, concentrating more on visually scanning the ship or anything illegal or hidden.  Jared seemed content to chatter on, almost as if oblivious to the somewhat thunderous expression on Henderson's face, especially as he tried to hustle the commander past a set of doors.  Henderson stopped dead, glowering at Jared and reaching out for the access panel.  Jared grabbed his wrist.

"Commander, that cargo bay is off limits.  We had a radiation leak a couple of days ago and the levels aren't back down to normal yet," he said quickly.  Henderson narrowed his eyes in suspicion, pulling his tricorder from his belt.

"Radiation levels or no, I'm sure you won't mind if I scan - Great Scott!  There are life signs in there!"  Almost dropping his tricorder, he slammed his hand against the access panel.  The doors slid open, and Henderson felt his jaw drop.  With a shaking hand, he pressed his commbadge. "Antares?  This is Commander Henderson.  I need all available medical teams to my location now!" As he closed the comm channel, he stepped into the cargo bay, looking at the huddled forms of nearly one hundred and fifty Cardassians.

The Cardassians watched in both wariness and fear as the Starfleet officer watched them in return with wide eyes.  The smell of desperation and rot and sickness was almost a physical presence in the confined area of the bay, a slap to his nose until his sense of smell shut down in protest.  Most of the Cardassians seemed to be gathered in family groupings, the adults holding onto the children, keeping them close as if they hoped to protect the younglings from him.  The more the Commander looked at them, the more he realised just how emaciated they were, how most of them had their scales rotting off their skin, some so weak they unable to even move from their places lying prone on thin bed rolls.  He noticed a couple of Cardassian military uniforms interspersed with the ragged, dirty clothes, but even they were tarnished and uncared for, hardly the proud threat they had once represented.

One such Cardassian straightened up from where he had been crouched next to a woman and child, extending his hands to the Commander as if to show that he had no weapons, his wariness clear on his face as he spoke.  "I am Gul Telak.  Please, we're only looking for a new home."

Before Henderson could respond, the sound of transporter activity filled the bay, depositing what appeared to be half of the Antares's medical personnel on the deck.  It only took them a handful of seconds before they set to work, scanning and tagging the Cardassians in a well practised standard triage protocol.

 Henderson found himself gravitating back toward Gul Telak, who had returned to his previous position by the woman and child that the commander suspected were his family.  The Cardassian was warily watching the Chief Medical Officer scanning the young girl.  He made his way over to the Gul, crouching down next to them.  Even without a medical degree, he could tell that the girl was in a bad way.  Her hair had mostly fallen out, her scales rotted and her skin more ashen than was healthy for her species.  He watched as Commander Meredith strapped a priority transporter beacon onto the girl's wrist.  The Gul looked up at him, the expression of concern on his face evident.

"Commander Meredith has told me that she will be transported to your ship's sickbay in the first wave.  I wish to accompany her."

As much as Henderson wanted to refuse the request and have nothing to do with the Cardassians, he knew that this was no longer a search of a cargo freighter, but a humanitarian mission, and the man who stood in front of him now wasn’t one of the soldiers he had fought in the war, but one who was tired, desperate, and afraid for his daughter.  It was as clear as the rotting scales on his face.


A few hours later, after settling the Cardassians who weren't on the priority treatment list into one of the far more comfortable cargo bays on board the Antares with access to the food replicators and proper bunks, Commander Henderson made his way to sickbay, knowing that Gul Telak would be there.  As he arrived, however, he noticed that both the Gul and the woman he assumed to be his wife were standing by the main surgical biobed, speaking softly to its occupant.  Doctor Meredith approached him, a PADD in her hand.

"Anything to report, Doctor?" Henderson asked softly.  

"Most of the Cardassians will be fine in a day or two, and once they put some weight on.  I've got the lab putting together something to deal with the scale rot.  Some of them need a bit more care, but the worst case by far is the Gul's daughter.  Apparently, she was caught in a radiation leak several years ago and her health deteriorated gradually over time.  A few more days and she would have been dead."

"That bad?"

"That bad.  As it is, there's some scarring to the brain tissue that I can't remove.  She'll likely have a speech impediment for the rest of her life, but it's better than not being able to speak at all, which was her previous condition.  Numerous tumours, radiation poisoning, one eye that needs replaced… I can take care of all of those over a couple of days.  Doing it all in one go would be too much for a system that fragile, same with the others who have more severe conditions."  Henderson watched as a nurse walked up to the Gul and his wife, saying something quietly to them and leading them away from the surgical bay.

"Is she up to talking?"

Although Doctor Meredith had a confused look on her face, she lead him toward where the Cardassian girl lay.  Despite the heating blanket over her, she continued to shiver slightly, curled up on herself and as Henderson approached, she struggled to sit up, only to have the doctor gently push her back down with a few murmured reassurances before giving Henderson a stern look.

"Not too long, Commander.  She needs to rest."

"You have my word, doctor," Henderson replied before turning his attention to the girl, perching on the side of her bed in an attempt to appear less threatening to her.  "I'm Commander Henderson, first officer of this ship.  What's your name?"

The girl looked at the Commander for a brief moment through her one good eye, then looked away, rubbing at a thick discharge running from the glazed, unhealthy-looking one.  "Ih-Ilana T-T-Telak, s-sir."

"And how old are you, Ilana?"

"F-Fourteen."

Henderson scanned her face.  She didn't look fifteen.  She looked far younger, as far as he could see under the blanket, but the condition she was in aged her beyond that.  "Can you tell me why you were on that ship?"
Ilana tilted her head to one side, the scale remnants above her eyes furrowing slightly, as if she was trying to find an ulterior motive, but was too tired to finish the thought process involved.  "W-we are l-l-looking f-for a n-new h-h-home.  M-my f-father b-b-brought us f-from B-Bajor.  H-he s-s-said th-that w-w-we w-would b-be s-s-safer away f-from th-the U-Union."

"The Union?  The Cardassian Union?"

"Y-yes, s-s-sir."

"But why?"

"I think that's enough, Commander," the doctor stepped forward, placing one hand gently on the girl's shoulder.  "Ilana needs to rest now."  Henderson appeared to be about to argue with the doctor, but backed down, nodding his head once and turning on his heel, leaving sickbay.  Doctor Meredith patted Ilana's shoulder, gently pushing her down and pulling the blankets up over her to keep her warm.  


The next morning, Ilana woke to find herself feeling better than she had done in years.  Keeping the blanket around her shoulders to ward off the chill, she slipped off the biobed.  The medical ward was still dark, only a skeleton team of nurses on duty.  Moving on tiptoe, she crept up behind one of the nurses who was doing some work on a console, her green eyes wide with curiosity as she read the information on the screen, drinking it in. She took another step forward to get a closer look at one of the diagrams, prompting the nurse to let out a surprised yell.  Ilana stumbled back, averting her eyes and stammering her apologies.  The nurse reached down, holding out a hand to help her back to her feet.

"It's ok, you took me by surprise, that's all," the nurse assured the young Cardassian.  "Were you… are you interested in medicine?"  As Ilana gave a shy nod, the nurse smiled back at her.  "You lie down again.  I'll get you some PADDs to have a look at."

_______________________________


Rachel Deacon | Archangel T'Koris | Zero Alpha | Ilana Telak | Mira | Persephone M'Rai
|  Now she's stronger than you know, a heart of steel starts to grow  |
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Archangel T'Koris
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PostSubject: Re: The Captain's Shorts   Mon Aug 31, 2015 4:37 pm

[Zero Alpha]
Unwanted Contact

WARNING - This story contains torture, and a lot of it.  It's not all that graphic, but if you don't want to read it, skip over it.


The Gannius had made good time to get back to the Romulan Star Empire after the aborted war games with the Phoenix, but had slowed its frantic pace once it had returned to the relative safety of the Romulan side of the Neutral Zone.  Even with diplomatic relations between the two powers having abolished the Neutral Zone in all but name, both sides were still hesitant to cross it without authorisation.

 For two Federation officers still trapped on the interrogation deck of the warbird, it meant that their wait to be released was dragged out further and further and, although they tried to be a source of comfort for each other, it was becoming clear that there would be no hope of escape for them until someone realised that they were missing from the Phoenix.  Soon, Jiseth stopped speaking, sitting with her back against the interrogation chair that Zero was trapped in, staring at the wall. The young Augment closed her eyes, attempting to remain calm even though her fear and panic were so close to the surface.

 As soon as they reached the Romulan homeworld, she was quietly and efficiently restrained and removed, given into the care of the Tal Shiar.







Day 1




Even with her enhanced genome, Zero wasn't designed to go without sleep or food for as long as she had, especially not under the kind of emotional stress she had been dealing with.  Now that she thought about it, her unwillingness to eat or sleep as a normal human should in the days before the war games seemed like a rather stupid idea.  It just gave the Romulans an advantage.

The room she had been brought to was bright, clinical in its cleanliness.  It reminded her of a surgical bay back in the infirmaries and labs she had spent so much of her time in.  The chair she was strapped into once more, on the other hand, was exactly the same as the one she had so recently vacated on the Gannius.  The operatives of the Tal Shiar, however, was less considerate than Jiseth had been in confining her to it, ensuring that the restraints were clamped tight around her, preventing more than a millimetre of movement in any direction.

Her ribs pushed against the chest restraint with every breath as she tried to calm her fearful panting, eyes following the movements of the Romulan as he strolled around her, hands clasped behind his back.  She could see his assistants standing in the corner, watching her as well and, held between them, Jiseth.  Zero swallowed hard, wishing that she could say something to her, to reassure Jiseth that everything would be all right, that they would get out of this some how, but she didn't want to say anything for as long as she was held here.  She squeezed her eyes closed, thinking back to the sessions she had started with the Trill, Kaz, back on the Phoenix, trying to remember how to control her fear rather than let it get the better of her.

Her thoughts were wrenched back to the present as a gloved hand touched the line of her jaw.  Her eyes flew open to see the Romulan leaning close to her, staring intently into her eyes.  Anger that he would dare touch her surged up through her chest, overtaking the fear and lending her new strength to jerk forward with a snarl only to be rewarded with a sharp slap.  Her cheek stung all the more as her head unable to turn to absorb the impact.  Narrowing her eyes, she struck quickly before the hand was moved out of range, her teeth sinking into the soft leather of his glove.  His other hand came swiftly to punch her jaw until she let go with a yelp.

"Perhaps this will be more interesting than I thought," he murmured, her chin gripped tightly in his hand, threatening to break it as he smirked down at her.  "And throughout it all, your beloved mate will be here to watch."





Day 4




They had left her alone for three days after certain measures had been taken.  Her uniform had been stripped off, her tattoo checked to ensure that she was indeed the right person they wished to have in their company.  A metal plate had been secured over her mouth and jaw, a muzzle to prevent her from biting again.  Several vials of blood had been taken from her as well as hair and skin samples, no doubt to be tested and examined to extract all of the secrets her genome contained.  After that, she had been secured back in the chair and left in silence.  Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have been all that concerned.  Since no one was coming in to bother her, it was easy enough to tune out the fact that she was unable to move.  Starfleet Medical had often put her in similar situations, after all.  She could even have taken the chill in the air against her bare skin.  That was something that she could ignore, retreat into her head and solve equations, think about any of her projects back home, or even just go to sleep, but she couldn't.

The one thing she couldn't tune out was the chronometre ticking in the corner.  Quite an antiquity in itself, having a chronometre that ticked.  She wasn't sure she had ever seen one before.  However, she did know that in such devices, the tick and the tock were supposed to be evenly spaced and regular.  It was strange.  There would be four or five, sometimes three or sometimes as many as six, all regular, but then the next one would be slightly off, whether a millisecond slower or faster.  The effect was one that Zero could not ignore.  Sh worked against the restraints, trying to free a hand, a foot, something, but all she managed to do was add a crust of blood to the previously immaculate metal.

When the operative returned, Zero had gone a total of eight days without sleep, food or water.  Her thoughts felt slow, focused on her dry mouth and empty stomach, her mind tortured by the incessant irregularities of the ticking chronometre.  She had been designed to endure, but not for this long.  She wasn't Vulcan.

The Tal Shiar operative was accompanied by his two cronies and, held between them, was a defeated-looking Jiseth.  Zero blinked, hoping that they hadn't turned their attentions to her in the four days they had left her alone.  If they had, then there were no outward signs of it.

Her attention was diverted by a hand on her chin, forcing her head round to look into the eyes of the operative.  She didn't even know his name, but she already felt as if they were a little too close together.  He tapped a finger against the metal muzzle, smirking slightly.

"Such a shame," he crooned softly.  "But those who act like animals will be treated as such.  I had hoped that Doctor Kincaede or Admiral Corinth would have taught you better manners, but I guess that task now falls to me, my dear.  I hope you're a fast learner."  Zero narrowed her eyes at the operative, wishing that she could talk back to him somehow, speak with the dismission and scorn that was her trademark.

Since the operative hadn't deigned tell her his name yet, her mind dubbed him 'Vulture', for his beaky nose and the way he was looking at her as if he was waiting for her to die so that he could tear into her and discover all the secrets of her Augment body.  Her pale grey eyes tracked his movements as far as she could as he walked around her again, taking his time to observe her.  As discreetly as she could, the young Augment started to, once again, work her wrist free from its restraints, the crust of blood scratching her already tender and shredded skin.

"Ah, ah, ah," Vulture crooned, tapping the back of her hand with one gloved finger.  "We'll have none of that, mutt.  We have a lot of work to do before Starfleet demands your return.  I intend to learn everything there is to know about this new weapon of theirs."





Day... Unknown




Learn everything that he could, Vulture certainly kept his word.  She had told him nothing, whether about herself or her knowledge of Starfleet and the Romulan mind probe had been unable to scan her to any useful degree, so he had resorted to much cruder methods in order to find out what he wanted to know.

The majority of the bones in her limbs were broken, slowly snapped or crushed as they tested the strength and density of her skeletal structure.  Disruptor burns decorated a large proportion of her skin as they sought the appropriate setting they would need to incapacitate her.  Poisons had been injected into her bloodstream or forced past her lips, her resistance to their effects and estimated times of death recorded.  Her exhaustion had reached levels of desperation as sleep continued to be denied.  The muzzle cut into her face, Water was given sparingly, no more than a mouthful at a time, food even less so.  Unable to move, she was forced to relieve herself of what little nutrients her body could not process in that chair, only to be hosed down with freezing water and punished for having done so.

And then there were the gratuitous beatings.  The only time she was ever released was for the pleasure of her interrogators.  Punched and slapped for the short time she was able to remain on her feet, then she would be kicked around the cell for as long as they desired before being hauled back into the chair and securely strapped in.  Often, after those sessions, Vulture would return and crouch in front of her, take off her muzzle before his gloved hands moved to rest on her knees, and speak softly to her, asking her the questions that she refused to answer.  When no answer was forthcoming, he would sigh and pat her knee, straightening up and strapping the muzzle back on before giving her a disappointed look and leaving her to the ticking of the chronometre.  To begin with, she used to cry, shedding the tears she had refused to allow to show during the beatings, but before long, she could not even do that.

Today, however, things were different.  Vulture walked in with a different set of assistants.  Jiseth, as ever, was brought in and sat on a stool in the corner to watch.  Instead of starting to question her, the chair was pulled into a different position, so that it was a table rather than a chair.  Still unable to move, Zero was forced to stare at the ceiling rather than a blank wall.  She swallowed hard, her throat dry and irritated.  A hypo of some sort was jammed into her neck, the familiar hiss telling her that something had been injected into her system.  Almost immediately, all movement from the neck down stopped.  A paralysant!  The thought caused her eyes to widen, but there was nothing that she could do about it.

Leaning over her, Vulture smiled, an expression he only wore when he was about to tell her about a new experiment he had thought of.  This time, he ran a hand the length of her bruised and broken body, from her exposed throat down her chest and abdomen, the length of her legs.

"This will be most informative," he crooned as he adjusted her head restraint so that she was looking down at her body.  "I think it's time we had a look at how you function inside.  The hypo will ensure that you stay awake long enough for me to tell you about everything I'm doing.  Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be able to feel the majority of it as well..."

Zero's screams, muffled by the muzzle, went unheeded by the Romulan and his assistants as the laser scalpel sliced into her flesh, opening her thoracic and abdominal cavities for them to see.  The sight of internal organs generally didn't phase her, but to see her own, with her own blood running down her skin, the wet gleam of her intestines, the movement of her heart and lungs, the skin-like texture of her abdominal wall as it was pushed aside.  The pain was already enough to have her screaming, but it was nothing compared to the agony of Vulture plunging his hands inside, caressing her heart as he smiled at her.

"Such an interesting specimen," he purred.  "I'm going to enjoy this."





Day Unknown




Zero didn't bother to open her eyes as she heard the door scrape open behind her.  There was no point, in any case.  The people who came through that door were always the same, and they never brougth good news.  She listened to the footsteps as they made their way around the chair.  It was only as she heard a female voice speaking Romulan in a harsh, barking manner that she forced her swollen eyes to open.  The voice had been familiar.

Archangel T'Koris, dressed in full Romulan robes, was apparently tearing Vulture a new one as she disengaged the restraints and muzzle before pulling off the outer layer of her robes, wrapping them around the exposed Augment as she helped her to her feet.

"It's ok, Zero.  It's going to be ok.  I've got you, and we're going back to the Phoenix."

"J-Jiseth?"

"We've got her too, don't worry.  You're both safe now."

_______________________________


Rachel Deacon | Archangel T'Koris | Zero Alpha | Ilana Telak | Mira | Persephone M'Rai
|  Now she's stronger than you know, a heart of steel starts to grow  |
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Archangel T'Koris
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PostSubject: Re: The Captain's Shorts   Mon Aug 31, 2015 4:37 pm

[Archangel T'Koris]
Her'u'le

"IF YOU WILL NOT GIVE ME THE CODES, THEN I WILL GIVE YOU HIS FINGERS!"

Archangel screamed, bolting upright in her bed, the sheets and blankets twisted around her body as she struggled to free herself. She fell from the bunk, landing with a thump on the deck plates where she finally managed to untangle herself.

Gulping down huge lungfuls of air, she tried to calm her racing heart, to reassure herself that she was still on the Phoenix, not on the Chin'Toka at the mercy of Jarris and his men.

Pushing herself to her feet, she staggered to the small bathroom attached to her sleeping area, calling for the lights and bracing herself against the sink before she could fall again. The sight that looked back at her as she raised her eyes to the mirror was a frightful one. Black hair plastered to her head by sweat, dark eyes sunken and hollow, skin gaunt and pale. It was the same face that greeted her every night when she woke from her nightmares.

Dipping trembling fingers into the water in the sink, she splashed some on her face, forcing herself to take a deep breath once again. The chill of the water was enough of a shock to her system to reassure her that she was indeed awake and not simply unconscious under Jarris' care. Then, after patting her face dry with a towel, she made her way into the living area of her quarters.

Only a few short weeks ago, the living area had been a lesson in organising chaos. PADDs had fought for space with toys, crayons had been scattered over the deck plating, stuffed animals sitting around the coffee table as in the pretense of mission briefings. Archangel smiled faintly as she thought about that. Seika had never been happy to build a doll's house or have tea parties with her toys. No, she had built a model of Engineering and held briefings. Looking to the walls, there was a conspicuous absence of paper covered in crayon, of the large display case that held all of Gabriel's mission patches. The shelves lacked his books, the clay models carefully constructed by the girls. Everything not directly linked to her work was gone, packed away in storage containers and shipped back to Earth with the rest of her life.

Moving over to one of the viewports, Archangel let out a quiet breath, leaning her forearma and forehead against the transparasteel, closing her eyes. Subconsciously, her other hand went to her neck, feeling for the slim chain that held her wedding rings, closing her hand around them. Immediately, they brought her comfort, but that sensation soon gave way to guilt and intense sorrow. While they were a reminder of his Gabriel's love, they had now become a reminder of how she had failed to protect him.

Anxiety induced nervous breakdown.

The Federation news feeds had picked up on it quickly, but Starfleet had shut it down just as quickly. Standard excuses about the stress of constantly being on the front line, about the trauma of the Dominion War still being treated in the veteran officers. Archangel, on the other hand, knew better. There was no denying that the amount of stress that she carried with her through her life. Being a starship captain, her diplomatic relations with the Star Empire, her clandestine and forced affiliation with Section 31.

I should never have allowed him to carry the burden with me.

Her Gabriel. Her E'lev. Her kaevra u'hachae. The man with a heart and soul of gold. The doting father of her daughters. The one whose laugh she longed to hear and cause. She should have known better than to ask him to share her life, no matter how much he had insisted that he could handle it.

Opening her eyes, she looked out at the stars, seeking out those closest to Earth, where her family were staying. Without them, she felt as grey as the uniforms of her homeworld. She avoided thinking about them as much as possible, throwing herself into her work, pulling double shifts at every opportunity. Work, sleep, repeat. The less time she spent in her quarters, alone with her thoughts, the less she would think about them. At least, that was the theory. The truth of the matter was that no matter what she did, they were constantly on her mind. She longed to hold them all, to apologise, to promise to try harder to protect them.

As she opened her eyes again, the reflection of a holoframe standing on her desk caught her eye and, turning around, she picked it up to look at the picture it was currently displaying, allowing a faint smile to tug at the corners of her mouth. It was an image taken only moments after Aria's birth. Seika sat on the edge of the biobed, grinning at the camera with her usual brilliance. Archangel was propped up on the bed, still flushed and damp from the exertion, Aria bundled up in her arms, already looking around with her beautifully mismatched eyes. And Gabriel, looking for all the world as if she couldn't have given him anything more perfect in the galaxy, his arm around her shoulders, his own cheeks red and eyes twinkling in joy.

Once again, she swallowed hard, carrying the frame back into the bedroom with her. She threw the blankets back onto the bed and retrieved Bunny from under it. Then, finding an old uniform shirt of Gabriel's, one to which his strong, familiar scent still clung, she settled back down, hugging both items. Glancing up, out of the viewports, she silently begged the stars and Elements to bring her family back.

_______________________________


Rachel Deacon | Archangel T'Koris | Zero Alpha | Ilana Telak | Mira | Persephone M'Rai
|  Now she's stronger than you know, a heart of steel starts to grow  |
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Archangel T'Koris
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PostSubject: Re: The Captain's Shorts   Fri Sep 18, 2015 5:21 pm

[Archangel T'Koris / Zero Alpha]
Breakfast with the Captain


Zero straightened out her uniform as she stepped off the turbolift into the passages containing the senior crew quarters.  The captain had invited her to her quarters for some unknown reason.  Generally, she wouldn't have been concerned about such a thing, but since Leela had been working with her in order to try to help her better interact with her fellow humanoids, the pressure to perform well in any social situation had increased dramatically.

After smoothing her hands over the tight knot of white hair on her head, she pressed the chime.  It didn't take long for the doors to slide open to admit her entrance, but it was still long enough for her to contemplate turning and running before she found herself trapped there.  

Stepping inside, the first thing Zero noticed was the lack of children in the lounge area.  Surely the infants would be awake by now?  From what the captain had told her during their check ups, they were difficult to get to sleep most nights, generally being little bundles of energy.  However, the captain herself was standing next to the couch in her red undershirt, in the middle of braiding her hair.

"Zero!" she greeted with a warm smile, tying off the end of her braid with a hair elastic.  "Thanks for coming.  Gabe's taken the girls to Engineering this morning to keep an eye on them so that we can get some peace." She gestured to the other couch, inviting Zero to take a seat. "I've been receiving regular reports from Ensign Kaz and I'm delighted to see that you're making progress."

"Ensign Kaz is a persistant teacher," came the stiff reply. Archangel sat back for a moment, observing the young Augment in silence. Zero wasn't looking at her Captain, keeping her grey eyes on the grey carpeted deck plates. The Romulan let out a quiet sigh.

"Zero, I can tell you from personal experience that you are making outstanding progress. Recovery from the care of the Tal Shiar can take a significant amount of time, even for the likes of Jiseth and myself. However, that's not why I called you here. One of the subjects that Ensign Kaz brought up was your unwillingness to eat anything except a nutritional supplement that Corinth designed for you."

"That is correct."

Once again, Archangel considered Zero for a moment before her expression softened into something far more maternal. "I can understand an aversion to eating. Gabriel can tell you about my problems in that respect, but I'm more concerned about yours. Being able to feed yourself in a nutritious manner without a problem will go a long way to helping prove that you can fend for yourself." Seeing a near panicked look on the young Augment's face, Archangel raised a hand to forestall any protests. "We'll take this slowly, and I'll be facing the challenge with you. While you get used to eating proper food, I'll be getting used to finishing a meal with someone else in the room."

Getting to her feet, Archangel made her way over to the replicator and murmured something, waiting a moment for it to materialise before picking up a tray. What she set out in front of Zero, while definitely not the usual glass of nutritional supplement, didn't look all that different. It was a bowl of something a very pale golden colour, with steam gently rising from it. Next to it was a tea cup, with tea in it. Looking over at Archangel, Zero noted that she had the exact same thing.

"This is porridge. It's a similar consistency to your supplement, but it's an acceptable human breakfast food," Archangel explained before pointing to the smaller bowls between them with her spoon. "Some people like to put sugar or salt on it depending on their personal tastes. I prefer mine sugared, but it's really up to you." She smiled slightly, nodding to her breakfast companion. "Good luck with the challenge!" Taking a deep breath, the Captain then dipped her spoon into the gruel and scooped some up. She hesitated for a moment, then put it in her mouth and swallowed.

Following her example, Zero warily spooned up some of the thick mixture and placed it into her mouth. The texture was somewhat familiar, very similar to her supplements, but the taste was different. For a moment, she was paralysed with fear, knowing that she had just broken one of the rules. She was shaken out of it, flinching as she felt a hand on her arm. Archangel was leaning over to her, gently patting her arm once or twice before withdrawing again.

"Baby steps, Zero, baby steps. What you're eating is just a little bit above what you were eating before. We have an hour to finish our breakfast before we're due on duty, so just take your time."


In the end, it took nearly the entirety of that hour for the two women to finish their bowls, but they finished and that was the important thing. As they stood up to go their different ways, Archangel turned to Zero and, in a soft, motherly tone, said: "I'm proud of you, Zero. You're going to get through this."

_______________________________


Rachel Deacon | Archangel T'Koris | Zero Alpha | Ilana Telak | Mira | Persephone M'Rai
|  Now she's stronger than you know, a heart of steel starts to grow  |
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Archangel T'Koris
Captain
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Starfleet Starfleet Award of Merit Command
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Art Contribution
Completed Plot and Bio Page
Participated in the first mission
Posts : 1715
Join date : 2014-06-27

PostSubject: Re: The Captain's Shorts   Sun Jan 10, 2016 7:48 pm

[Archangel T’Koris]
Dark of the Night


She wasn’t sure what had awoken her that night.  One of many nightmares?  A deep sense of foreboding?  Gabriel stirring next to her?  It could have been anything, but it didn’t matter now.  She was awake.

Trying to disturb her mate the least possible, Archangel carefully manoeuvered herself out of the tangle of limbs they had fallen asleep in, smiling faintly at the sight of him.  The resort on Centaurus they had chosen for their honeymoon offered them beautiful views, but they paled when compared to the sight of her Gabriel, rumpled by sleep and the activities that had preceded it.  Their clothes had barely been on for the two days they had been there and, if she was honest with herself, she didn’t see them staying on much for the rest of the week they had booked.

Slipping out of the bedroom and into the lounge of their suite, Archangel headed for the replicator to make herself a cup of tea.  Perhaps something warm and familiar would help her get back to sleep.  Two PADDs that lay abandoned on the table seemed to be staring at her reproachfully.  She made an effort to ignore them, keying her order into the food slot, picking up her tea once it had materialised.  Turning around just brought the PADDs back to her attention.  Taking a deep breath, she turned her back on them to look out of the window at the clear night sky, at the stars she had flown amongst not all that long ago.

Damned Starfleet.  Of all the times to send reactivation orders, they had to come while she was trying to enjoy alone time with her husband.  Technically, both she and Gabriel were still on medical leave following the events on the Chin’Toka that had lead to her long stay in Starfleet Medical’s San Francisco facility.  A captaincy?  After how her tenure as first officer had ended?  It was a difficult thing to imagine and one that she was unsure about accepting.  Starfleet must be truly desperate to be considering her to take command of the ship being sent out to carry the Federation’s flag along the borders with the Romulan and Klingon empires.  Gabriel had tried to reassure her that she was ready to take it on, but was she?  The physical scars of the incident had more or less gone, but the psychological trauma was still raw and weeping.  She wasn’t sure she could do this again.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” a voice behind her asked.  Jumping, Archangel’s cup fell to the floor, the delicate glass shattering and spilling tea over the carpet as she spun around to face the owner of the voice, grabbing a blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch and wrapping it around her naked form.  A figure clad in a black uniform stepped into view, smirking at her.  Archangel took a step back from him, moving so that the table was between the two of them.

“Ikelos,” she replied, keeping as much emotion from her voice as she could.  “Why are you here?”

“No warm greetings for your new handler?  You wound me, Nemesis,” came the smooth reply as the agent easily stepped around the table, quickly intercepting his charge before she could instigate a game of chase around the piece of furniture.  “I came to make sure you made the right choice.”

“The right choice about what?”

“About the captaincy, of course.  You’re going to accept the post on the Phoenix.”

Archangel narrowed her eyes, moving away from him again, backing off until she felt her back touch the cool glass of the window.  “That’s my decision to make, Ikelos, and I don’t know whether or not I’m going to accept it yet or just retire.”

Two gloved hands hit the glass, one on either side of Archangel’s shoulders, trapping her between the glass and Ikelos’ body.  A quiet whimper escaped before she could stifle it, turning her head away from him as he leaned forward until their foreheads were almost touching.  “It’s not your decision to make, Nemesis,” he purred, an unvoiced threat laced through his tone.  “Do I have to remind you what happens when you don’t do what you’re told?”  

This time, it was a growl that rumbled from Archangel’s throat as she ducked, attempting to escape the cage of Ikelos’ arms, only to find a gloved hand grabbing her hair, yanking her back to him so that he could wrap an arm around her shoulders, pinning her to his chest despite her struggles.  He leaned down to murmur into her ear, his breath brushing over the points in a sickening parody of what Gabriel had done only a few hours ago.

“You will take the position, Nemesis, or we might just have to do a little refresher course.  Maybe this time, we’ll have your new husband or your girls join us.  Would you like that?”

Ceasing her struggles, the young Romulan hung her head, murmuring quietly:  “No.”

“So you will take the position?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” Ikelos purred, patting her on the head as he let her go, pushing her toward the bedroom.  “Now, off to bed with you before he wakes up and realises that you’re gone.  And remember, we’ll be watching.”


When Archangel looked back over her shoulder, Ikelos had already vanished in that infuriating manner of S31 agents everywhere.  She chewed her lip, tiptoeing into the bedroom.  Gabriel was still fast asleep, his lips slightly parted as he breathed lightly and evenly.  Resolving not to tell him about the unwelcome visit, Archangel slipped into the bed, doing as much as possible so as not to jostle him as she wrapped one arm around his waist, cuddling up to his back and resting her head between his shoulderblades as she let her eyelids slide closed again, unwilling to spend another moment thinking about Ikelos when she had her e’lev to think about.

_______________________________


Rachel Deacon | Archangel T'Koris | Zero Alpha | Ilana Telak | Mira | Persephone M'Rai
|  Now she's stronger than you know, a heart of steel starts to grow  |
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PostSubject: Re: The Captain's Shorts   Today at 12:44 pm

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