Interlude – If War is what it takes ...
by Commander Isha t'Vaurek & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Post Details
ON:
It took only three paces for Isha to push her conversation with the well meaning counsellor to the back of her mind. Yes, she now was clear as to why she sometimes froze but knowing the reason was not a solution. If what the counsellor said was true that could take months and Isha simply did not have that much time.
As she waited for the turbolift, Isha turned her attention to the people around her; they were talking freely, greeting their friends, and paying her no attention. As she smoothed the soft grey tunic over her hips she allowed herself a slight smile. Isha missed this freedom, it was easy to forget, she reflected, what a luxury true anonymity was.
If she was standing here decked with the trappings of rank and status would she be hearing how that Betazoid’s daughter was about to be married, or of how late the birth of the tired looking human couple was?
Right now she was … nobody, just one of them, just as she had been when her guise was that of a roving investigative journalist; those years had been the only ones during which Isha had actually been free. The consulate was as much of prison as her husband’s house had been, as her childhood home had been and she subject to all the rules and strictures imposed upon her … she glanced again at the human couple, “You will have a beautiful daughter,” Isha said with sincerity as she passed into the lift and leaned against the back wall.
Isha closed her eyes. Before she returned to her gilded cage she would walk alone in the arboretum, maybe take a stroll through the Bajoran gardens where she and Doctor Adams had often picnicked in those more simple days before duty came calling …
Only moments after the turbolift had started, it stopped. The doors parted, seeming more slower in opening that usual. They opened to reveal the one man Isha should have avoided.
Tharek Getal.
He stood there and glared at the woman through dark eyes. The Federation lights had dimmed his eyes considerably. He said nothing, but stood inside the lift next to her, and spoke clearly "Cardassian Consulate." with a low and subtle tone.
As she heard his voice the smile that played on Isha's lips died and the pulse in her throat quickened. Isha swallowed, and grasped the rail behind her with both hands, hoping that it was her imagination that had brought him here. She opened her eyes a sliver. It was him, standing beside her, close enough to touch her, the man who not twelve hours ago he had thrown her across a room like a discarded shirt. Here she was not alone, at least, Isha noted the other passengers in the lift-car, but could a man who had abandoned all pretence of civility be trusted not to make a scene just because there were strangers present? Isha doubted it.
"Getal," she said, the minimal acknowledgment she could make without being downright rude. She straightened and folded her arms, her palms leaving a sheen of moisture on the matte metal rail.
Tharek slowly turned his head down to face her. "Romulan." He stated bluntly. He now refused to show her an ounce of civility or respect. She was his enemy, and deserved nothing from him besides his rage.
Her agate gaze did not waver, she could not allow it to. "Very well, Cardassian," she said as she clenched her fists, pressing her fingernails deep into the flesh of her palms to ground herself. Part of her brain was counting lift-stops, watching who came and went, the level that they had reached to make her escape, it would do her no good to leave to soon and find herself stranded.
"I take pride in my race, and don't really find offense in you. I find you despicable though, and not worthy of a name." Tharek said, towering above her, locking onto her eyes with his own.
For perhaps the first time in her life Isha did not know what to say. It was not so much the unpleasant implication of what he said, but the way that he said it; Isha would not talk to a slave in that tone and yet Getal seemed to feel no compunction about using it to her. Rh’vaurek had been right. Isha should have listened to him and had nothing to do with this Cardassian; she simply did not know how to deal with him.
Isha caught herself grinding her teeth together as the Cardassian continued to stare down at her, "That is your misfortune," she hissed as they arrived at yet another floor, a floor at which the pregnant couple alighted.
"My misfortune? My misfortune is being in the same quadrant as you. Your misfortune is involving yourself with the wolves." He said, referring to himself and his race. He lent down to her height. "The wolves will tear you limb from limb and feast on the spoils that flow forth." Tharek was now playing mind games, even if they were a bit ineffective at the moment. He knew what he was doing. It was what he was trained for.
Her final and decisive action against her husband's brother had been intended to remove the last lingering threat from her life yet all too soon another had replaced him; it was as though there was a vacuum and Getal somehow had been sucked into it, as though he was filling a gap that was meant to be filled. And just like Nniol he was never going to be satisfied, Isha thought.
There was something she had to know. "Why did you turn on me?" Isha asked, as her gaze dropped, "I could have delivered everything."
"Define everything." He stated. "I am a military tactician at heart, I cannot play games forever. I want this station, and I want it now." He leant casually against the nearest wall and awaited her reaction.
Isha glanced at the other passengers in the lift, they would never know how thankful she was that they were there. "I don't know why I didn't see it before," Isha said thoughtfully as her gaze came back to Getal. Isha was not fooled by his assumed nonchalance, he was observing her as though she were a wild creature that found itself trapped and tethered and had not yet understood that it could not snap the rope that bound it, or that each new struggle was another clue as to how it might eventually be broken; Isha saw that, and she was not about to give anything new away to him. She fell back on her earlier familiar approach - unimpressed and barely concealed disdain. "You sound like an ill bred child, Getal," Isha said softly, "I want?" she mocked.
"Don't test me, Romulan." He repeated from their last encounter, which ended with Isha in pain, and Tharek in rage. "I'm not the one hiding behind a name, behind a title. Behind a mirror." He said, again from the encounter. Tharek had no idea of Isha and Nniol, nor did he know how much it affected her. "There isn't much in life I want, and when I do want it, I get it. One way or another." He said, grabbing the sore skin of Isha's wrist. Tharek made sure to be inconspicuous in his movement and made sure no other person in the lift saw him.
Only a whimper escaped Isha's throat as Getal's fingers wrapped around her wrist, closing over her damaged flesh.
The most savage irony was that the one person she had known who could have advised her had by her will been gutted by a Klingon while she stood by. Nniol had made his own rules. He had told her that she would need him and regret her decision, but Isha had not then known how soon that regret would come home to her. There were no rules anymore, but Isha lived and functioned in a world governed by rules and conventions that she understood inside out and manipulated and exploited to their limit – here, beyond them she was adrift.
Isha’s gaze, directed up at Getal flickered between fear and loathing. Getal was much too close to her, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, the same bulk that blocked her from the view of the others in the lift. Isha fought her own instinct to wrench her wrist out of his grasp. He had not applied any pressure, yet but the dull ache of his fingers on the bruises he had inflicted earlier made her fear that he would.
"You're enjoying this," Isha observed unable to pull her gaze away from his, "Not the game, but the idea that you can hurt me."
Tharek smiled. His heart wanted to agree with her, but his mind wanted to stay slightly sane. "I don't like hurting you, it's just a necessary evil. You need to learn your place, and it seems that pain is the only way to accomplish that."
"My place?" His twisting lips did nothing to reassure Isha, that leer was more disturbing to her than his rage, there was something she observed in Getal that was not quite balanced, something she could or would not name. "Who are you to determine my place?" she challenged, knowing that she was running out of time, if she did not leave the turbolift before him he might force her to go with him and she could not afford that risk. Isha regretted that the silvered bracelet that contained her comm signature lay abandoned on her dressing table. Her staff believed the Ambassador to be in her suite and had orders that she was not to be disturbed, they would not miss her for hours.
Tharek smiled. This was his chance to be the vain one, the insane one. "I, am your death. I am the embodiment of everyone that seeks revenge because of what you have done. I am the epitome of rage and hate. I am a Cardassian!" He bellowed the last part of his sentance, not caring about the inhabitants of the lift. At the end of his sentance he only grabbed harder on Isha's wrist too.
"Stop!" Isha cried, grabbing at the rail with her free hand to stop herself from falling and being left hanging from his fist.
The passengers, showing community spirit of a sort, opted as a man to leave the lift at the next stop and whispered to those waiting to wait with them. With the recent disruptions on the station they could hardly be blamed for leaving at the first sign of a hostile situation, but Isha did blame them, all they had had to do was stay.
Isha knew that she was not blameless, had she not just told the counselor of the first time she had inadvertently ruined a man's life and career? But what was it to the Cardassian? Getal had accused her before, but she did not understand why. She was not sure that she understood anything.
"I don't know what you think I've done," Isha said in a small voice.
"I know your games, Romulan! You have killed in the name of your 'house' and think that because of that, its okay! You ruin people’s lives, and blame it on the house to throw away your guilt! You are not worth the dirt that made your damned house." Tharek said, showing a disgusted look on his face.
"That is something I have NEVER done!" Isha forgot herself and wrenched her wrist away from him. "It is always on me that it lies - I AM the House, whoever or whatever I order, they are simply weapons, but the hand is mine!" she shrieked before falling back against the sealed lift doors. That was the oblique edge of the guilt she carried, of everything that she did because it was required of her. Isha realised between breaths that she had exposed that edge to Getal, and he would use it against her later, if there was a later. Isha swallowed. There were only the two of them left and Getal could probably snap her neck if the whim took him. Isha remained pressed against the door half deafened by her own pulse. She knew it was quite useless to plead with a cardassian.
"Oh... " Tharek said, smiling widely. He did notice the edge, and he would use it, but not now. As much as he hated to admit it, she would cause less trouble if she was alive and out of sight, than dead. He needed Rh'vaurek, and Rh'vaurek would surely call off his end of the deal and wage war on the Cardassians if Isha would to be killed by Tharek's hand. He backed away from Isha as far back as he could go. "Then the blame falls directly to your feet then. You are solely responsible for your guilt, and you are solely responsible for your actions, that lead me to my actions."
"No, Getal," Isha said sliding her hands down the doors, she had not expected him to back down. For a moment she reassessed the situation with the same clarity she had used as a child to pick apart her sister’s performance, before that talent was blunted and warped. Isha knew what to do, knew what Getal would do … perhaps, she reflected, her time with the counsellor had not been wasted. "I do not lead you or force you to act as you do," Isha said as behind her back her fingers closed on the weapon hidden in a pouch at the back of her trousers, its presence concealed by the curve of her spine and the fall of her tunic. It was the same phaser, a neat little type 1 that Doctor Adams had scolded her for carrying telling Isha that it might too easily be turned on her - that was not going to happen now. Getal was too busy gloating over his own assumed superiority to notice. She activated the weapon with a flick of a finger behind her back.
Isha was not even looking at Getal when she fired the phaser, she did not have to, she knew where he was and knew that he could not move quickly enough or far enough. She only regretted that it was set on heavy stun.
Tharek fell to the ground with a loud crash. He was out for the count. He could imagine though, even with his chest burning from the stunning phaser. He imagined that he would get her back for this.
She would pay with blood.
Isha fired again as her gaze swung down. Getal was not so fearsome sprawled on the floor and incapacitated, she thought as she paused to reflect and to allow her breath to slow. Isha had broken her own rules, and adopted his – she had stepped into a world that Rh’vaurek had strived to keep her out of, a world that she did not understand. She had to do it though, Isha knew that, because she intended to survive.
"Promenade," Isha snapped and the turbolift sped on.
In the seconds remaining it took every grain of willpower she possessed to refrain from kicking Getal in the face, as she rolled her lower lip between her teeth Isha saw that if one was willing to abandon one’s standards it was all quite easy. It was not a realisation that brought her any comfort.
As the lift doors hissed open she glanced down at the splayed hand that reached out from his slumped body Isha could restrain herself no further, she stamped hard on her target, grinding her full weight onto it and as she moved on, Isha was not sure if she was elated or sickened by the crunch of bone beneath the heel of her boot.
Tharek lay there on the cold, hard floor of the turbolift. He could feel the pain in his left hand, but could not do anything. Nor could he rip Isha's head from her shoulders and use it as a desk ornament. He was sure that he would though. Isha would not survive, that was for sure. Tharek knew it, and she knew it. Isha had made the retalliation, now, it was war.
[END]
A Joint Post By:
Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Cardassian Dictator
&
Ishe e-Khellian i-Ramnau t'Illialhlae
Romulan Ambassador, refusing to be dictated to.
OOC: Thanks for another great JP, you're a star.
OOC: Your always welcome. I love to JP, especially with yourself. Don't hesitate to ask for one in the future.
by Commander Isha t'Vaurek & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Post Details
| Title | If War is what it takes ... | |
| Mission | Interlude | |
| Author(s) | Commander Isha t'Vaurek & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal | |
| Posted | Mon May 24, 2010 @ 10:49pm | |
| Location | A Turbolift | |
| Timeline | SD18 Immediately after 'Facing forwards to the past ' |
It took only three paces for Isha to push her conversation with the well meaning counsellor to the back of her mind. Yes, she now was clear as to why she sometimes froze but knowing the reason was not a solution. If what the counsellor said was true that could take months and Isha simply did not have that much time.
As she waited for the turbolift, Isha turned her attention to the people around her; they were talking freely, greeting their friends, and paying her no attention. As she smoothed the soft grey tunic over her hips she allowed herself a slight smile. Isha missed this freedom, it was easy to forget, she reflected, what a luxury true anonymity was.
If she was standing here decked with the trappings of rank and status would she be hearing how that Betazoid’s daughter was about to be married, or of how late the birth of the tired looking human couple was?
Right now she was … nobody, just one of them, just as she had been when her guise was that of a roving investigative journalist; those years had been the only ones during which Isha had actually been free. The consulate was as much of prison as her husband’s house had been, as her childhood home had been and she subject to all the rules and strictures imposed upon her … she glanced again at the human couple, “You will have a beautiful daughter,” Isha said with sincerity as she passed into the lift and leaned against the back wall.
Isha closed her eyes. Before she returned to her gilded cage she would walk alone in the arboretum, maybe take a stroll through the Bajoran gardens where she and Doctor Adams had often picnicked in those more simple days before duty came calling …
Only moments after the turbolift had started, it stopped. The doors parted, seeming more slower in opening that usual. They opened to reveal the one man Isha should have avoided.
Tharek Getal.
He stood there and glared at the woman through dark eyes. The Federation lights had dimmed his eyes considerably. He said nothing, but stood inside the lift next to her, and spoke clearly "Cardassian Consulate." with a low and subtle tone.
As she heard his voice the smile that played on Isha's lips died and the pulse in her throat quickened. Isha swallowed, and grasped the rail behind her with both hands, hoping that it was her imagination that had brought him here. She opened her eyes a sliver. It was him, standing beside her, close enough to touch her, the man who not twelve hours ago he had thrown her across a room like a discarded shirt. Here she was not alone, at least, Isha noted the other passengers in the lift-car, but could a man who had abandoned all pretence of civility be trusted not to make a scene just because there were strangers present? Isha doubted it.
"Getal," she said, the minimal acknowledgment she could make without being downright rude. She straightened and folded her arms, her palms leaving a sheen of moisture on the matte metal rail.
Tharek slowly turned his head down to face her. "Romulan." He stated bluntly. He now refused to show her an ounce of civility or respect. She was his enemy, and deserved nothing from him besides his rage.
Her agate gaze did not waver, she could not allow it to. "Very well, Cardassian," she said as she clenched her fists, pressing her fingernails deep into the flesh of her palms to ground herself. Part of her brain was counting lift-stops, watching who came and went, the level that they had reached to make her escape, it would do her no good to leave to soon and find herself stranded.
"I take pride in my race, and don't really find offense in you. I find you despicable though, and not worthy of a name." Tharek said, towering above her, locking onto her eyes with his own.
For perhaps the first time in her life Isha did not know what to say. It was not so much the unpleasant implication of what he said, but the way that he said it; Isha would not talk to a slave in that tone and yet Getal seemed to feel no compunction about using it to her. Rh’vaurek had been right. Isha should have listened to him and had nothing to do with this Cardassian; she simply did not know how to deal with him.
Isha caught herself grinding her teeth together as the Cardassian continued to stare down at her, "That is your misfortune," she hissed as they arrived at yet another floor, a floor at which the pregnant couple alighted.
"My misfortune? My misfortune is being in the same quadrant as you. Your misfortune is involving yourself with the wolves." He said, referring to himself and his race. He lent down to her height. "The wolves will tear you limb from limb and feast on the spoils that flow forth." Tharek was now playing mind games, even if they were a bit ineffective at the moment. He knew what he was doing. It was what he was trained for.
Her final and decisive action against her husband's brother had been intended to remove the last lingering threat from her life yet all too soon another had replaced him; it was as though there was a vacuum and Getal somehow had been sucked into it, as though he was filling a gap that was meant to be filled. And just like Nniol he was never going to be satisfied, Isha thought.
There was something she had to know. "Why did you turn on me?" Isha asked, as her gaze dropped, "I could have delivered everything."
"Define everything." He stated. "I am a military tactician at heart, I cannot play games forever. I want this station, and I want it now." He leant casually against the nearest wall and awaited her reaction.
Isha glanced at the other passengers in the lift, they would never know how thankful she was that they were there. "I don't know why I didn't see it before," Isha said thoughtfully as her gaze came back to Getal. Isha was not fooled by his assumed nonchalance, he was observing her as though she were a wild creature that found itself trapped and tethered and had not yet understood that it could not snap the rope that bound it, or that each new struggle was another clue as to how it might eventually be broken; Isha saw that, and she was not about to give anything new away to him. She fell back on her earlier familiar approach - unimpressed and barely concealed disdain. "You sound like an ill bred child, Getal," Isha said softly, "I want?" she mocked.
"Don't test me, Romulan." He repeated from their last encounter, which ended with Isha in pain, and Tharek in rage. "I'm not the one hiding behind a name, behind a title. Behind a mirror." He said, again from the encounter. Tharek had no idea of Isha and Nniol, nor did he know how much it affected her. "There isn't much in life I want, and when I do want it, I get it. One way or another." He said, grabbing the sore skin of Isha's wrist. Tharek made sure to be inconspicuous in his movement and made sure no other person in the lift saw him.
Only a whimper escaped Isha's throat as Getal's fingers wrapped around her wrist, closing over her damaged flesh.
The most savage irony was that the one person she had known who could have advised her had by her will been gutted by a Klingon while she stood by. Nniol had made his own rules. He had told her that she would need him and regret her decision, but Isha had not then known how soon that regret would come home to her. There were no rules anymore, but Isha lived and functioned in a world governed by rules and conventions that she understood inside out and manipulated and exploited to their limit – here, beyond them she was adrift.
Isha’s gaze, directed up at Getal flickered between fear and loathing. Getal was much too close to her, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, the same bulk that blocked her from the view of the others in the lift. Isha fought her own instinct to wrench her wrist out of his grasp. He had not applied any pressure, yet but the dull ache of his fingers on the bruises he had inflicted earlier made her fear that he would.
"You're enjoying this," Isha observed unable to pull her gaze away from his, "Not the game, but the idea that you can hurt me."
Tharek smiled. His heart wanted to agree with her, but his mind wanted to stay slightly sane. "I don't like hurting you, it's just a necessary evil. You need to learn your place, and it seems that pain is the only way to accomplish that."
"My place?" His twisting lips did nothing to reassure Isha, that leer was more disturbing to her than his rage, there was something she observed in Getal that was not quite balanced, something she could or would not name. "Who are you to determine my place?" she challenged, knowing that she was running out of time, if she did not leave the turbolift before him he might force her to go with him and she could not afford that risk. Isha regretted that the silvered bracelet that contained her comm signature lay abandoned on her dressing table. Her staff believed the Ambassador to be in her suite and had orders that she was not to be disturbed, they would not miss her for hours.
Tharek smiled. This was his chance to be the vain one, the insane one. "I, am your death. I am the embodiment of everyone that seeks revenge because of what you have done. I am the epitome of rage and hate. I am a Cardassian!" He bellowed the last part of his sentance, not caring about the inhabitants of the lift. At the end of his sentance he only grabbed harder on Isha's wrist too.
"Stop!" Isha cried, grabbing at the rail with her free hand to stop herself from falling and being left hanging from his fist.
The passengers, showing community spirit of a sort, opted as a man to leave the lift at the next stop and whispered to those waiting to wait with them. With the recent disruptions on the station they could hardly be blamed for leaving at the first sign of a hostile situation, but Isha did blame them, all they had had to do was stay.
Isha knew that she was not blameless, had she not just told the counselor of the first time she had inadvertently ruined a man's life and career? But what was it to the Cardassian? Getal had accused her before, but she did not understand why. She was not sure that she understood anything.
"I don't know what you think I've done," Isha said in a small voice.
"I know your games, Romulan! You have killed in the name of your 'house' and think that because of that, its okay! You ruin people’s lives, and blame it on the house to throw away your guilt! You are not worth the dirt that made your damned house." Tharek said, showing a disgusted look on his face.
"That is something I have NEVER done!" Isha forgot herself and wrenched her wrist away from him. "It is always on me that it lies - I AM the House, whoever or whatever I order, they are simply weapons, but the hand is mine!" she shrieked before falling back against the sealed lift doors. That was the oblique edge of the guilt she carried, of everything that she did because it was required of her. Isha realised between breaths that she had exposed that edge to Getal, and he would use it against her later, if there was a later. Isha swallowed. There were only the two of them left and Getal could probably snap her neck if the whim took him. Isha remained pressed against the door half deafened by her own pulse. She knew it was quite useless to plead with a cardassian.
"Oh... " Tharek said, smiling widely. He did notice the edge, and he would use it, but not now. As much as he hated to admit it, she would cause less trouble if she was alive and out of sight, than dead. He needed Rh'vaurek, and Rh'vaurek would surely call off his end of the deal and wage war on the Cardassians if Isha would to be killed by Tharek's hand. He backed away from Isha as far back as he could go. "Then the blame falls directly to your feet then. You are solely responsible for your guilt, and you are solely responsible for your actions, that lead me to my actions."
"No, Getal," Isha said sliding her hands down the doors, she had not expected him to back down. For a moment she reassessed the situation with the same clarity she had used as a child to pick apart her sister’s performance, before that talent was blunted and warped. Isha knew what to do, knew what Getal would do … perhaps, she reflected, her time with the counsellor had not been wasted. "I do not lead you or force you to act as you do," Isha said as behind her back her fingers closed on the weapon hidden in a pouch at the back of her trousers, its presence concealed by the curve of her spine and the fall of her tunic. It was the same phaser, a neat little type 1 that Doctor Adams had scolded her for carrying telling Isha that it might too easily be turned on her - that was not going to happen now. Getal was too busy gloating over his own assumed superiority to notice. She activated the weapon with a flick of a finger behind her back.
Isha was not even looking at Getal when she fired the phaser, she did not have to, she knew where he was and knew that he could not move quickly enough or far enough. She only regretted that it was set on heavy stun.
Tharek fell to the ground with a loud crash. He was out for the count. He could imagine though, even with his chest burning from the stunning phaser. He imagined that he would get her back for this.
She would pay with blood.
Isha fired again as her gaze swung down. Getal was not so fearsome sprawled on the floor and incapacitated, she thought as she paused to reflect and to allow her breath to slow. Isha had broken her own rules, and adopted his – she had stepped into a world that Rh’vaurek had strived to keep her out of, a world that she did not understand. She had to do it though, Isha knew that, because she intended to survive.
"Promenade," Isha snapped and the turbolift sped on.
In the seconds remaining it took every grain of willpower she possessed to refrain from kicking Getal in the face, as she rolled her lower lip between her teeth Isha saw that if one was willing to abandon one’s standards it was all quite easy. It was not a realisation that brought her any comfort.
As the lift doors hissed open she glanced down at the splayed hand that reached out from his slumped body Isha could restrain herself no further, she stamped hard on her target, grinding her full weight onto it and as she moved on, Isha was not sure if she was elated or sickened by the crunch of bone beneath the heel of her boot.
Tharek lay there on the cold, hard floor of the turbolift. He could feel the pain in his left hand, but could not do anything. Nor could he rip Isha's head from her shoulders and use it as a desk ornament. He was sure that he would though. Isha would not survive, that was for sure. Tharek knew it, and she knew it. Isha had made the retalliation, now, it was war.
[END]
A Joint Post By:
Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Cardassian Dictator
&
Ishe e-Khellian i-Ramnau t'Illialhlae
Romulan Ambassador, refusing to be dictated to.
OOC: Thanks for another great JP, you're a star.
OOC: Your always welcome. I love to JP, especially with yourself. Don't hesitate to ask for one in the future.