Judgement – Convolution
by Colonel James Darson & Alderman Dorian Gabriel & Lieutenant Jana Kasikova
Post Details
ON:
The doors to the Security complex hissed open and the massive cloaked form of James Darson entered. He didn’t like coming down here, he really didn’t. The stark contrast of the soft lines and more governmental accoutrement of this office vs. his hard and cold militaristic Marine HQ always grated on him a little bit. Such close jurisdictions, and yet such different approaches.
And yet…both served the Federation. Which was why Darson was here now. To serve the Federation. He moved forward through the hatch, bypassing the civilian reception area, the clusters of citizens filing some complaint or another or whatever it was they wanted. His official status got him past the reception desk in the dispatch office without fanfare, and he proceeded to walk through the corridors of the Security offices as if he owned them. After all, attitude was important.
With unerring precision, he navigated his way through the large, yet comparatively small (at least compared to his domain) complex, ending up at the brig checkpoint. He moved over to the window and said simply, “I’m here to see the Commander.”
The seasons officer looked up from the console and observed the individual for several moments before responding. "Name, rank, and reason for visit." He stated in a straight-forward manner. This wasn't the first time someone had arrived in costume, and he was certain that it would not be the last.
Darson stared crossly at the officer behind the glass. He did not like repeating himself…especially when simple statements carried so much dramatic weight. He sighed and said, “Colonel Darson, here to see Commander Gabriel. Reason for visit…legal matters.” Vague, but true enough in all respects. He had come down here to make these legal problems go away.
"Alright, I'm sure you know the procedure already. Leave all weaponry here and it'll remain secure. You have 20 minutes." he stated.
After complying with the standard practice of having all obvious weapons on hand turned over to the officer, he received clearance to enter. As the door to the checkpoint whisked closed, he found himself alone with the criminals. Or, what passed for criminals on this station anyway.
As if guided by some ethereal spirit, he moved quietly through the caged area and ended up in front of the cell he wanted. Technically, he really shouldn’t be doing this. Or wanting to do this for that matter. But his orders were excruciatingly clear. He came at last to the cell that he wanted and stood silently in front of the force field, waiting to be noticed.
"196. . .197. . ." Dorian counted as he continued to extend his arms in the typical formation of a push-up.
Darson stood as still as a statue and seeing that Gabriel was making a point, settled for waiting for Gabriel to be finished with his workout routine.
"198. . .199." he responded, still not acknowledging the man.
Darson continued his remarkable impersonation of a work of art, checking the chronometer inside his helmet.
"200" He said with finality as he finally sat up and looked at the man who stood before him. "Sorry I don't have any candy today, but I'd love to know what you are supposed to be little boy." Dorian said to the Marine as he regained control of his breathing.
Darson stood still as stone, his icy gaze fixing on the incarcerated officer. He reached out slowly and punched in an override code for the force field, which promptly flickered and died. He kept his gaze on Dorian. He calmly stepped over the threshold into the cell, which seemed to quickly shrink with his armored addition to it. He advanced on Dorian, reaching into his cloak as if going for a hidden weapon, and with lighting speed suddenly whipped his hand out towards the commander.
In his hand was a bottle.
Correction, a bottle of Saurian Brandy. Sealed and very much vintage. He took two cups out with the other hand and held them up, “Let’s have a drink Mr. Gabriel.”
Dorian stood up and took the cup from Darson's hand as he began to pour the contents of the bottle into his cup.
He had purposely left the white noise generator off so that the cameras could see he wasn’t letting Dorian run, he just wanted a better position to talk then through a force field. He turned and sat on the only piece of furniture in the room and waved at the camera across the hall.
“Well Mr. Gabriel,” Darson said calmly as he inspected the bottle, “I wanted to come and chat with you. I figured that a dying man deserved at least a drink before he’s walked to the gallows. Don’t you agree?
Dorian took a large drink from the glass and allowed the contents to slowly cascade down his throat. He grimaced slightly as the aftertaste subsided as well.
"I think you are absolutely right for once Darson." Dorian said with a laugh.
"I'm glad you came down here to have a quick chat with me, because as soon as I'm done with this Kangaroo Court, I'm going to find out how the hell you disabled my security field" Dorian said as the smile on his face began to fade away and be replaced with a more stern glare.
"After that I'm going to take apart that little clubhouse of yours piece by fucking piece to find out how the hell you hi-jacked this station during the terrorist attack." Dorian said ruefully.
“Yes, of course…” Darson said, keeping to himself the fact that the only reason he had an actual security override code is that some young Ensign’s desk he had passed had one scrawled on the side of the terminal, or that his MECO was legal and signed off on by the CO, “All investigations worthy of your attention. However, how can you make me rue the day I stepped on the station, when you’re spending the rest of your life incarcerated on a Federation Penal Colony? Or, heaven forbid, a Romulan Penal Colony. Or you know…dead,” Darson chose not to focus on the fact that extradition itself, especially with Capital Punishment on the line, was iffy to begin with.
Darson paused to pour himself a drink and swirled it around as he spoke, “This ‘Kangaroo Court’ as I believe you put it, is out for blood. Your blood, to be specific. And they’re going to get it if you keep up with the same things that you’re doing now. You know that the trial starts in a couple of days…have you talked with your counsel yet? Lined up testimony? Evidence? Witnesses? Pre-trial motions?”
Dorian was beginning to become annoyed. First at his intrusion, second at his inquiry into this shame. "You want me to take this bullshit serious?" He asked incredulously.
"I've dedicated my career to defending the Federation from outside threats and now I am being attacked on my own station. This entire trial is a sham and everybody involved knows it." he stated.
“As have I,” Darson said in an agreeable fashion, “And yes, this trial is a sham. Everybody does know it, but it’s not for the reason you think. There are deep powers at play here Dorian. The Romulan ambassador,” he chose not to use Isha’s name at the risk of incurring further wrath, “hates you. And is out for your head apparently. So are a lot of people. Not me though, interestingly enough. Curious, isn’t it?”
"Oh? So I should take your visit down here as a gesture of friendship and support? Next you'll tell me that they are selling "FREE GABRIEL" shirts on the promenade?" he asked sarcastically. Dorian knew that Darson had planned some power-angle out of this whole situation. Even if he wasn't involved, he was looking for an opportunity to profit off of it.
“What? Of course I wouldn’t start selling those shirts. Can you imagine how incredibly tacky that would be?” Darson exclaimed in an indignant tone, the hypocrisy of what he had just said going over his head like an intergalactic albatross, “And this really isn’t about friendship and support…let’s make one thing clear. I don’t like you. And I’m pretty sure you hate me enough to either stab me or shoot me first chance you get…me and my rugged good looks. And as much as our little friendly rivalry comes into play here, I’m afraid that I can’t let you lose this trial.”
Dorian crossed his arms as he listened. "Why do you care? You are a high-level knuckle-dragger. What stake do you have in the affairs of Starfleet officers?" He asked.
“What indeed?” Darson said vaguely as he poured himself another drink from the about half empty bottle and simultaneously turned on his white noise generator on audio receiving frequencies only, “But I can tell you that it wasn’t my decision. It was made far above both of our pay grades. And I am bound by the orders that have been sent down. And to answer your next question, I’m the one that was chosen to help because…well, let’s just say you don’t have many allies around here at the moment. And of those, certain parties seem to think that I’m the best qualified to assist you.”
He turned his gaze to Dorian, “So I am going to assist you, be your defense counsel. I’m going to help you beat this trumped up charge, whether you like it or not. We’re going to go and stick it to the Romulans, we’re going to stick it to the Cardassians. We’re going to stick it to everybody and everything that wants you out of the picture. Hell, I’m going to make some sticky grenades and stick them to things, just because that’s how fired up I am. I don’t think I’ve been this fired up since I went into the Romulan Embassy and turned the Chief of Staff’s room quite literally upside down.”
He poured another glass for the slightly inebriated officer. Darson hoped that the combination of acting sympathetic to Dorian’s racial outrage at the people he blamed for putting him in here, and the brandy he was plying Dorian with would make him more…amenable to his proposal. To say nothing of the little addition he had made to the golden liquid before coming down here. A tiny dose of a tasteless, odorless sedative, used to make a subject more…cooperative.
Dorian sat on his cot and looked at the wall for several moments. Part of him wanted to throw the drink in Darson's face and forcefully throw him out of the cell. Oddly, he resisted the urge and just sat there and contemplated the suggestion put before him.
At this point he was stuck inside ofa cell and had no opportunity to investigate the matter fully to determine who was behind the charade. Perhaps allowing someone else to fight the battle int he courtroom while he got tot he bottom of this would be a smarter allocation of resources.
"So you want to represent me?" Dorian said as he slowly stood up and faced the cloaked Marine Officer. "Well. . ."
"Actually, I am here to represent you. Lt. Adaya Talloc." The young Betazoid said. "We have a lot of work to do and not that much time to do it in." She turned to the cloaked man, "I'm sorry you are?..."
Despite the rampant ping of his motion sensor alerting him to the woman’s approach, he was still mildly surprised by her appearance. After all, he had been under the impression that Gabriel hadn’t been assigned a defense counsel yet. Or had requested one. Or wanted one. Or could stand one. He was here to force himself on Gabriel, and that was saying something.
“My dear,” He said officiously as he sprung to his feet in front of the young woman and did a small bow, “I am the legendary, respected, invincible, incorribigle, Colonel James Darson. Perhaps you have heard of my many legendary exploits? No matter…we have more important things to attend to, such as Mr. Gabriel’s defense. You said that you were appointed to his counsel? What are you, JAG?”
Adaya stepped towards them both but smiled directly at Darson. "I am JAG, I wasn't so much appointed as requested by a friend of mine and the Commander, an Admiral Llewelyn?" She looked at Gabriel for a reaction, she knew it probably wouldn't a good reaction if one at all. "He sends his regards...even under these circumstances."
Dorian thought for several moments before he addressed the two. "Now that we've had this pleasant little meet-n-greet, Captain Kangaroo here was just preparing to leave and go investigate where exactly the Romulan Ambassador is getting her information from." Dorian said in a firm tone. He knew enough to recognize that Darson could not be present for any conversation between him and his attorney or else his attorney-client privilege would be extinguished.
"Oh! That would be beneficial." Adaya gave Darson a flirtatious smile. "I'll come and find you later?" She asked before turning her attention back to her client.
Darson made a noise that could only be described as a large jungle cat purring, “I like your style…among other things,” he turned to gather his things, one hand slipping into his cloak for a second and then coming back out to pour a drink from the now mostly gone bottle of brandy. He grabbed the glass and turned back to Adaya, moving in close to her, his imposing frame towering over her. He leaned down next to her ear and replied in an equally flirtatious tone, “I’ll be getting to work for the good Commander here…come by later…you know where to find me, and I’ll make sure you won’t regret it.”
Using the entire maneuver as cover, Darson had positioned himself just so, so that when he handed the drink over and leaned down to talk, he quick as a flash silently reached up and, out of sight of both Adaya, Dorian and the camera watching them, exchanged one of her rank pips with an identical one he had drawn from inside his cloak that was actually a listening device. He played the whole action off as flirtatious and let his hand pat her shoulder as he moved past her and left the brig.
OFF
Lieutenant Commander
Dorian Gabriel
Chief of Security
Lt. Adaya Elbrun
JAG
NPC played by Jana
Colonel James Darson
Marine Commanding Officer
Deep Space 5
by Colonel James Darson & Alderman Dorian Gabriel & Lieutenant Jana Kasikova
Post Details
| Title | Convolution | |
| Mission | Judgement | |
| Author(s) | Colonel James Darson & Alderman Dorian Gabriel & Lieutenant Jana Kasikova | |
| Posted | Sat Nov 06, 2010 @ 4:04am | |
| Location | Deep Space 5 - Main Brig | |
| Timeline | SD34 - 1635 |
The doors to the Security complex hissed open and the massive cloaked form of James Darson entered. He didn’t like coming down here, he really didn’t. The stark contrast of the soft lines and more governmental accoutrement of this office vs. his hard and cold militaristic Marine HQ always grated on him a little bit. Such close jurisdictions, and yet such different approaches.
And yet…both served the Federation. Which was why Darson was here now. To serve the Federation. He moved forward through the hatch, bypassing the civilian reception area, the clusters of citizens filing some complaint or another or whatever it was they wanted. His official status got him past the reception desk in the dispatch office without fanfare, and he proceeded to walk through the corridors of the Security offices as if he owned them. After all, attitude was important.
With unerring precision, he navigated his way through the large, yet comparatively small (at least compared to his domain) complex, ending up at the brig checkpoint. He moved over to the window and said simply, “I’m here to see the Commander.”
The seasons officer looked up from the console and observed the individual for several moments before responding. "Name, rank, and reason for visit." He stated in a straight-forward manner. This wasn't the first time someone had arrived in costume, and he was certain that it would not be the last.
Darson stared crossly at the officer behind the glass. He did not like repeating himself…especially when simple statements carried so much dramatic weight. He sighed and said, “Colonel Darson, here to see Commander Gabriel. Reason for visit…legal matters.” Vague, but true enough in all respects. He had come down here to make these legal problems go away.
"Alright, I'm sure you know the procedure already. Leave all weaponry here and it'll remain secure. You have 20 minutes." he stated.
After complying with the standard practice of having all obvious weapons on hand turned over to the officer, he received clearance to enter. As the door to the checkpoint whisked closed, he found himself alone with the criminals. Or, what passed for criminals on this station anyway.
As if guided by some ethereal spirit, he moved quietly through the caged area and ended up in front of the cell he wanted. Technically, he really shouldn’t be doing this. Or wanting to do this for that matter. But his orders were excruciatingly clear. He came at last to the cell that he wanted and stood silently in front of the force field, waiting to be noticed.
"196. . .197. . ." Dorian counted as he continued to extend his arms in the typical formation of a push-up.
Darson stood as still as a statue and seeing that Gabriel was making a point, settled for waiting for Gabriel to be finished with his workout routine.
"198. . .199." he responded, still not acknowledging the man.
Darson continued his remarkable impersonation of a work of art, checking the chronometer inside his helmet.
"200" He said with finality as he finally sat up and looked at the man who stood before him. "Sorry I don't have any candy today, but I'd love to know what you are supposed to be little boy." Dorian said to the Marine as he regained control of his breathing.
Darson stood still as stone, his icy gaze fixing on the incarcerated officer. He reached out slowly and punched in an override code for the force field, which promptly flickered and died. He kept his gaze on Dorian. He calmly stepped over the threshold into the cell, which seemed to quickly shrink with his armored addition to it. He advanced on Dorian, reaching into his cloak as if going for a hidden weapon, and with lighting speed suddenly whipped his hand out towards the commander.
In his hand was a bottle.
Correction, a bottle of Saurian Brandy. Sealed and very much vintage. He took two cups out with the other hand and held them up, “Let’s have a drink Mr. Gabriel.”
Dorian stood up and took the cup from Darson's hand as he began to pour the contents of the bottle into his cup.
He had purposely left the white noise generator off so that the cameras could see he wasn’t letting Dorian run, he just wanted a better position to talk then through a force field. He turned and sat on the only piece of furniture in the room and waved at the camera across the hall.
“Well Mr. Gabriel,” Darson said calmly as he inspected the bottle, “I wanted to come and chat with you. I figured that a dying man deserved at least a drink before he’s walked to the gallows. Don’t you agree?
Dorian took a large drink from the glass and allowed the contents to slowly cascade down his throat. He grimaced slightly as the aftertaste subsided as well.
"I think you are absolutely right for once Darson." Dorian said with a laugh.
"I'm glad you came down here to have a quick chat with me, because as soon as I'm done with this Kangaroo Court, I'm going to find out how the hell you disabled my security field" Dorian said as the smile on his face began to fade away and be replaced with a more stern glare.
"After that I'm going to take apart that little clubhouse of yours piece by fucking piece to find out how the hell you hi-jacked this station during the terrorist attack." Dorian said ruefully.
“Yes, of course…” Darson said, keeping to himself the fact that the only reason he had an actual security override code is that some young Ensign’s desk he had passed had one scrawled on the side of the terminal, or that his MECO was legal and signed off on by the CO, “All investigations worthy of your attention. However, how can you make me rue the day I stepped on the station, when you’re spending the rest of your life incarcerated on a Federation Penal Colony? Or, heaven forbid, a Romulan Penal Colony. Or you know…dead,” Darson chose not to focus on the fact that extradition itself, especially with Capital Punishment on the line, was iffy to begin with.
Darson paused to pour himself a drink and swirled it around as he spoke, “This ‘Kangaroo Court’ as I believe you put it, is out for blood. Your blood, to be specific. And they’re going to get it if you keep up with the same things that you’re doing now. You know that the trial starts in a couple of days…have you talked with your counsel yet? Lined up testimony? Evidence? Witnesses? Pre-trial motions?”
Dorian was beginning to become annoyed. First at his intrusion, second at his inquiry into this shame. "You want me to take this bullshit serious?" He asked incredulously.
"I've dedicated my career to defending the Federation from outside threats and now I am being attacked on my own station. This entire trial is a sham and everybody involved knows it." he stated.
“As have I,” Darson said in an agreeable fashion, “And yes, this trial is a sham. Everybody does know it, but it’s not for the reason you think. There are deep powers at play here Dorian. The Romulan ambassador,” he chose not to use Isha’s name at the risk of incurring further wrath, “hates you. And is out for your head apparently. So are a lot of people. Not me though, interestingly enough. Curious, isn’t it?”
"Oh? So I should take your visit down here as a gesture of friendship and support? Next you'll tell me that they are selling "FREE GABRIEL" shirts on the promenade?" he asked sarcastically. Dorian knew that Darson had planned some power-angle out of this whole situation. Even if he wasn't involved, he was looking for an opportunity to profit off of it.
“What? Of course I wouldn’t start selling those shirts. Can you imagine how incredibly tacky that would be?” Darson exclaimed in an indignant tone, the hypocrisy of what he had just said going over his head like an intergalactic albatross, “And this really isn’t about friendship and support…let’s make one thing clear. I don’t like you. And I’m pretty sure you hate me enough to either stab me or shoot me first chance you get…me and my rugged good looks. And as much as our little friendly rivalry comes into play here, I’m afraid that I can’t let you lose this trial.”
Dorian crossed his arms as he listened. "Why do you care? You are a high-level knuckle-dragger. What stake do you have in the affairs of Starfleet officers?" He asked.
“What indeed?” Darson said vaguely as he poured himself another drink from the about half empty bottle and simultaneously turned on his white noise generator on audio receiving frequencies only, “But I can tell you that it wasn’t my decision. It was made far above both of our pay grades. And I am bound by the orders that have been sent down. And to answer your next question, I’m the one that was chosen to help because…well, let’s just say you don’t have many allies around here at the moment. And of those, certain parties seem to think that I’m the best qualified to assist you.”
He turned his gaze to Dorian, “So I am going to assist you, be your defense counsel. I’m going to help you beat this trumped up charge, whether you like it or not. We’re going to go and stick it to the Romulans, we’re going to stick it to the Cardassians. We’re going to stick it to everybody and everything that wants you out of the picture. Hell, I’m going to make some sticky grenades and stick them to things, just because that’s how fired up I am. I don’t think I’ve been this fired up since I went into the Romulan Embassy and turned the Chief of Staff’s room quite literally upside down.”
He poured another glass for the slightly inebriated officer. Darson hoped that the combination of acting sympathetic to Dorian’s racial outrage at the people he blamed for putting him in here, and the brandy he was plying Dorian with would make him more…amenable to his proposal. To say nothing of the little addition he had made to the golden liquid before coming down here. A tiny dose of a tasteless, odorless sedative, used to make a subject more…cooperative.
Dorian sat on his cot and looked at the wall for several moments. Part of him wanted to throw the drink in Darson's face and forcefully throw him out of the cell. Oddly, he resisted the urge and just sat there and contemplated the suggestion put before him.
At this point he was stuck inside ofa cell and had no opportunity to investigate the matter fully to determine who was behind the charade. Perhaps allowing someone else to fight the battle int he courtroom while he got tot he bottom of this would be a smarter allocation of resources.
"So you want to represent me?" Dorian said as he slowly stood up and faced the cloaked Marine Officer. "Well. . ."
"Actually, I am here to represent you. Lt. Adaya Talloc." The young Betazoid said. "We have a lot of work to do and not that much time to do it in." She turned to the cloaked man, "I'm sorry you are?..."
Despite the rampant ping of his motion sensor alerting him to the woman’s approach, he was still mildly surprised by her appearance. After all, he had been under the impression that Gabriel hadn’t been assigned a defense counsel yet. Or had requested one. Or wanted one. Or could stand one. He was here to force himself on Gabriel, and that was saying something.
“My dear,” He said officiously as he sprung to his feet in front of the young woman and did a small bow, “I am the legendary, respected, invincible, incorribigle, Colonel James Darson. Perhaps you have heard of my many legendary exploits? No matter…we have more important things to attend to, such as Mr. Gabriel’s defense. You said that you were appointed to his counsel? What are you, JAG?”
Adaya stepped towards them both but smiled directly at Darson. "I am JAG, I wasn't so much appointed as requested by a friend of mine and the Commander, an Admiral Llewelyn?" She looked at Gabriel for a reaction, she knew it probably wouldn't a good reaction if one at all. "He sends his regards...even under these circumstances."
Dorian thought for several moments before he addressed the two. "Now that we've had this pleasant little meet-n-greet, Captain Kangaroo here was just preparing to leave and go investigate where exactly the Romulan Ambassador is getting her information from." Dorian said in a firm tone. He knew enough to recognize that Darson could not be present for any conversation between him and his attorney or else his attorney-client privilege would be extinguished.
"Oh! That would be beneficial." Adaya gave Darson a flirtatious smile. "I'll come and find you later?" She asked before turning her attention back to her client.
Darson made a noise that could only be described as a large jungle cat purring, “I like your style…among other things,” he turned to gather his things, one hand slipping into his cloak for a second and then coming back out to pour a drink from the now mostly gone bottle of brandy. He grabbed the glass and turned back to Adaya, moving in close to her, his imposing frame towering over her. He leaned down next to her ear and replied in an equally flirtatious tone, “I’ll be getting to work for the good Commander here…come by later…you know where to find me, and I’ll make sure you won’t regret it.”
Using the entire maneuver as cover, Darson had positioned himself just so, so that when he handed the drink over and leaned down to talk, he quick as a flash silently reached up and, out of sight of both Adaya, Dorian and the camera watching them, exchanged one of her rank pips with an identical one he had drawn from inside his cloak that was actually a listening device. He played the whole action off as flirtatious and let his hand pat her shoulder as he moved past her and left the brig.
OFF
Lieutenant Commander
Dorian Gabriel
Chief of Security
Lt. Adaya Elbrun
JAG
NPC played by Jana
Colonel James Darson
Marine Commanding Officer
Deep Space 5