Beg, Steal or Borrow – Waiting
by Commander Isha t'Vaurek
Post Details
The warbird Vrelnec made its second pass and peeled away.
Nniol tr’Illialhlae watched impassively from the command chair, his hands resting on his knees; this ship was perfect, among the newest builds from the yards at Agurtha. It was an irony that Isha’s first sight of the shining new Norexan class behemoth she had commissioned was going to be from the wrong end of a disruptor cannon along with the yikh with whom she had thrown in her lot.
The elliptoid outline of Deep Space Five on the tactical display appeared to pivot on the tranverse axis as seventy percent of the strafing fire found its target, the shields having been brought down by a targetted internal strike. More than half of its defensive craft were trapped inside by the …
“Its wrong,” a voice interrupted.
“What?” Nniol snapped.
“The simulation. Vadi (Uncle), they’re already running regular fighter patrols. Look,” Fveirrolh pointed at the display, “Until this point our shields are down, I’ve had their formation analysed and until we move to here, we are vulnerable – they may be small but they are fast and manoeuvrable,” he did not add that the chances of that particular device detonating at the exact right moment to disable the station’s shield generators was less than fifteen percent.
Nniol tr’Illialhlae peered at his nephew through narrowed, watery eyes, “that is all accounted for in scenario seven,” he said softly. Getting to his feet he placed his arm around the young man’s shoulder and guided him into the ready room. “Now, Fveirrolh,” Nniol said when they were alone, “we’re all growing impatient. We’ve been sitting on our hands for too long while our friend tr’Rehu waits for his moment of glory, but that does not make it acceptable for you to undermine me on the bridge of my ship.”
“Forgive me, Vadi,” Fveirrolh said. “I am impatient, I want to help.”
“Then bring your findings to me in future, contribute to my efforts, don’t detract from them. The recognition of your work by the crew is of no relevance, Fveirrolh. As the Praetor is the infallible figurehead of the Empire so is the hru’Hfirh the infallible figurehead of the House; your father, my brother understood that. You are very like him and in time you will have his position. Sit, erei’Hfirh, and tell me what is on your mind.”
Fveirrolh nodded, his jaw working anxiously. He was yet to grow comfortable with his uncle using the title that was his mother’s while she lived. Of her two surviving children she had elevated his sister to sit as regent while she roamed the galaxy and disenfranchised the other; him. At the same time she had curbed uncle Nniol’s own influence and had the act ratified by the senate. It was wrong, Fveirrolh fumed, and Vadi Nniol was committed to putting it right.
“I don’t understand what we’re waiting for,” Fveirrolh said, “and I can’t devise a strategy in which one ship can successfully attack a space station.”
Nniol chortled, a genial smile spreading its way across his face. It had been a risk to drop the cloak to allow the mercenary to be transported aboard but the illusion had been maintained, if they thought there was much more of a threat than that posed by tr’Rehu’s crate they wouldn’t be sitting so comfortably now, Nniol surmised.
“We’re waiting for a signal,” he explained, “tr’Rehu has everything in hand. We must wait for the right moment; the memory of Nveid my brother and the honour of the Illialhlae are our concern, if only your mother would listen to reason none of this would be necessary, you understand, don’t you. I will lift this House from where it has fallen and with you as my heir we will see the empire rise again.”
Of course Nniol reflected the boy knew nothing of the mercenary and his brief to get Isha to give up the House or to kill her. His was the ambition of a young man and divided between the greater good of house and empire and a lingering sentiment for the woman who had given life to him.
“What can one ship do?”
Nniol chuckled, “We’re more than just a ship,” he said, “the Nraehhi'Saehne that accompanies tr’Rehu assures me of that. He also informs me that there are no fewer than eight devices in place on that station, primed and ready, each placed at a strategic point. When we make our move they will not attack, and if they are so reckless as to try we will disable them from within.”
“It seems complicated,” Fveirrolh observed, “If we really want to disrupt the relationship between the Empire and the Federation why do we not bring a larger force ...”
Nniol’s smile decayed, “Fveirrolh, I have told you enough. Subtlety develops with age and experience, you will understand in time. You need only know that when the signal is broadcast we will take back what is ours and the D’ravsai will be one step further along their path to the stars.”
OFF:
Nniol i-Ihhliae tr’Illialhlae, brother of Isha t’Khellian’s late husband
&
Fveirrolh i-Ihhliae tr’Illialhlae, her estranged son.
NPCs by Louise
by Commander Isha t'Vaurek
Post Details
| Title | Waiting | |
| Mission | Beg, Steal or Borrow | |
| Author(s) | Commander Isha t'Vaurek | |
| Posted | Sun Jan 25, 2009 @ 12:40pm | |
| Location | The Warbird Aylhr, cloaked somewhere off DS5 | |
| Timeline | SD7, 05:00 |
Nniol tr’Illialhlae watched impassively from the command chair, his hands resting on his knees; this ship was perfect, among the newest builds from the yards at Agurtha. It was an irony that Isha’s first sight of the shining new Norexan class behemoth she had commissioned was going to be from the wrong end of a disruptor cannon along with the yikh with whom she had thrown in her lot.
The elliptoid outline of Deep Space Five on the tactical display appeared to pivot on the tranverse axis as seventy percent of the strafing fire found its target, the shields having been brought down by a targetted internal strike. More than half of its defensive craft were trapped inside by the …
“Its wrong,” a voice interrupted.
“What?” Nniol snapped.
“The simulation. Vadi (Uncle), they’re already running regular fighter patrols. Look,” Fveirrolh pointed at the display, “Until this point our shields are down, I’ve had their formation analysed and until we move to here, we are vulnerable – they may be small but they are fast and manoeuvrable,” he did not add that the chances of that particular device detonating at the exact right moment to disable the station’s shield generators was less than fifteen percent.
Nniol tr’Illialhlae peered at his nephew through narrowed, watery eyes, “that is all accounted for in scenario seven,” he said softly. Getting to his feet he placed his arm around the young man’s shoulder and guided him into the ready room. “Now, Fveirrolh,” Nniol said when they were alone, “we’re all growing impatient. We’ve been sitting on our hands for too long while our friend tr’Rehu waits for his moment of glory, but that does not make it acceptable for you to undermine me on the bridge of my ship.”
“Forgive me, Vadi,” Fveirrolh said. “I am impatient, I want to help.”
“Then bring your findings to me in future, contribute to my efforts, don’t detract from them. The recognition of your work by the crew is of no relevance, Fveirrolh. As the Praetor is the infallible figurehead of the Empire so is the hru’Hfirh the infallible figurehead of the House; your father, my brother understood that. You are very like him and in time you will have his position. Sit, erei’Hfirh, and tell me what is on your mind.”
Fveirrolh nodded, his jaw working anxiously. He was yet to grow comfortable with his uncle using the title that was his mother’s while she lived. Of her two surviving children she had elevated his sister to sit as regent while she roamed the galaxy and disenfranchised the other; him. At the same time she had curbed uncle Nniol’s own influence and had the act ratified by the senate. It was wrong, Fveirrolh fumed, and Vadi Nniol was committed to putting it right.
“I don’t understand what we’re waiting for,” Fveirrolh said, “and I can’t devise a strategy in which one ship can successfully attack a space station.”
Nniol chortled, a genial smile spreading its way across his face. It had been a risk to drop the cloak to allow the mercenary to be transported aboard but the illusion had been maintained, if they thought there was much more of a threat than that posed by tr’Rehu’s crate they wouldn’t be sitting so comfortably now, Nniol surmised.
“We’re waiting for a signal,” he explained, “tr’Rehu has everything in hand. We must wait for the right moment; the memory of Nveid my brother and the honour of the Illialhlae are our concern, if only your mother would listen to reason none of this would be necessary, you understand, don’t you. I will lift this House from where it has fallen and with you as my heir we will see the empire rise again.”
Of course Nniol reflected the boy knew nothing of the mercenary and his brief to get Isha to give up the House or to kill her. His was the ambition of a young man and divided between the greater good of house and empire and a lingering sentiment for the woman who had given life to him.
“What can one ship do?”
Nniol chuckled, “We’re more than just a ship,” he said, “the Nraehhi'Saehne that accompanies tr’Rehu assures me of that. He also informs me that there are no fewer than eight devices in place on that station, primed and ready, each placed at a strategic point. When we make our move they will not attack, and if they are so reckless as to try we will disable them from within.”
“It seems complicated,” Fveirrolh observed, “If we really want to disrupt the relationship between the Empire and the Federation why do we not bring a larger force ...”
Nniol’s smile decayed, “Fveirrolh, I have told you enough. Subtlety develops with age and experience, you will understand in time. You need only know that when the signal is broadcast we will take back what is ours and the D’ravsai will be one step further along their path to the stars.”
OFF:
Nniol i-Ihhliae tr’Illialhlae, brother of Isha t’Khellian’s late husband
&
Fveirrolh i-Ihhliae tr’Illialhlae, her estranged son.
NPCs by Louise