Interlude – Borg & Belligerance, Part 5
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Post Details
ON:
OLD:
Before his eyes, it was Isha's face, and Isha's voice, Isha's hand that touched him. "Soon you will serve us."
Wrong choice of words
Tharek began his merciless assault. Before seconds had passed, Tharek had lopped the arm off of the nearest drone. The drone slumped backwards and fell into stillness. Tharek pushed the remaining Borg back with his free hand. "Small being?!" He said as he sucked in a breath. He bellowed his next words around the room, echoing. It filled ever corner with his voice.
"I am Cardassian!"
NEW:
Yolanthe slammed the door of the runabout shut, and leant against it, breathing hard. That had been… interesting. She looked down at her bare stomach for a moment. Three feint silver lines of blood showed on her abdomen, where a drone with a three hooked limb instead of a hand had been millimetres from eviscerating her. Interesting. Yes, that was one word.
But she’d made it through, leaving the ambassador against all her instincts. “Computer?” It beeped an acknowledgement. “Scan for cardassian life signs on this Cube.”
“There is one cardassian aboard.”
The tactical display showed her where. It then showed her the borg life signs. They clustered around the single point of the ambassador, like flies on a corpse. Her skin went from bright yellow to green in less than moment. “Merciful death!” She looked around the shuttle for inspiration. She couldn’t sit around and wait. No matter how skilled the Ambassador, numbers won. Numbers always won.
------
"I am Cardassian!"
From far behind a wall of drones, the Queen laughed. “You are irrelevant. A forgotton remnant of a inferior race. Your kind has been defeated before, and will be again, and again. We shall leave enough of you intact that you will be aware of that, when we assimilate your homeworld.”
The borg fell on him, slashing, cutting, walking over the bodies of the fallen to get to him
"Inferior?" Tharek said through a grin. "I'll show you inferior!" He yelled as he charged for the Borg. He himself was slashing and cutting, but with brutal and killing efficiency. Every strike hit it's target, every slash was met with the cold touch of metal and flesh.
The borg attacked in silence, always keeping themselves between Tharek and the queen. As they fell in front, they closed behind. One closed, and lashed out, cutting a line across the back of his calf, another left a shallow slice across his bicep. Then one seized him from behind and pinned his arms to his side and began to squeeze.
"This... Is why... I hate the Borg." Tharek said, struggling for breath. He had come too far in his life to be brought down by a holo program.
The lack of air made his senses spin. The Borg that held increased his grip, crushing yet more air and life from the Cardassian. Around him drones moved, their purpose changing. Instead of pressing him in, they were passing forward items and equipment, assembling their tools.
Held on the edge of consciousness, he could only watch as they brought out saws, spikes and scoops. He saw drones holding the ocular implant, the body armour ready for grafting, and finally, the artificial arm. Unlike the real victims of the Borg, there would be no nanoprobes to cancel the pain when they put out an eye, or stem the blood when they amputated his hand. They were going to assimilate him forcefully, and he would be very much awake, very much aware. At least when they began.
"You see," the queen purred in Isha's voice, "Resistance is futile." A drone wielding a laser bone-saw stepped forward. Another pulled his left arm out, and pushed back the sleeve.
"Fuck you." Tharek spat the words at the Queen through gritted teeth.
"Hey Bitch!" All the drones and the queen looked round, moving as a single being, to see Yolanthe leaning out of the door of the little runabout flying straight towards the centre of the huge chamber. Her foot rested on a black crate, about a meter by half meter. "Resist this." She pushed the crate out of the shuttlecraft.
As it plunged downwards, the runabout swooped low over the heads of the drones. Yolanthe grabbed the side of the doorway and held out her other hand. "Ambassador! Jump!"
Tharek didn't think. It was an opportunity, and if he didn't take it then he would die. He lunged upward and slammed his hand into Yolanthe's. For a moment he dangled above the collective, barely out of their reach, and then the woman heaved him up into the doorway with her.
The crate hit the floor, and a second later, it exploded, spraying the Borg with shrapnel and a viscous green liquid that almost instantly turned into a vile choking gas that slithered around the floor, obscuring the Borg and their queen from view. Moments later the Cube's filters kicked in, sucking away the corrosive gases, giving them glimpses of a floor carpeted with dead and twitching drones.
Yolanthe nodded in satisfaction and turned to Getal as the runabout continued on its automated path around the chamber. "The benefit of playing a game with no safeties," she grinned as the corrosive gases cleared. "You can get anything out of a replicator, even Frag grenades and plasma coolant! Should have shredded everything down there, even the -" Her words cut off sharply as a grey metal tentacle snapped around her waist and snatched her from the doorway.
The bokkai landed awkwardly at the feet of the Queen. The plasma coolent had stripped swathes of flesh from her face and shrapnel lodged in her body, but with every passing second the nanoprobes repaired the damage. The long tentacle uncoiled from Yolanthe and retracted into her arm. "Pathetic little girl," the queen told her. "You're not even worth assimilating." She dragged Yolanthe to her knees by the hair, and punched her once, twice, three times in the face with inhuman speed. Then the Borg queen grabbed her round the neck with one hand, around the thigh with another and threw her effortlessly in a long, lazy arc into a pillar thirty feet away.
The bartender hit it about fifteen foot up, crashed to the floor and lay still. In an incongruously human gesture, the Borg Queen dusted her hands.
"I'm just too fed up with this." Tharek said to no-one inparticular. Tharek still had the knife in his hand, which glistened with the blood of all different races. Greens, reds and blues engulfed the blade from hilt to tip. He looked down on the chamber. It was at least fifteen, maybe twenty feet down. "You owe me for this Bokkai!" He yelled.
The next move Tharek made was out of the Runabout. He had lunged himself out of the ship with a determined look on his face and blade in hand.
The landing was not perfect. The jump was too high, and too many corpses littered the ground. As he hit, his leg twisted hard, so hard he could almost hear the snap, and he dropped to one knee as a brief flash of agony shot up through his body.
The Queen turned, first surprised, and then sneering. "If you are truly so keen to die, we shall accommodate you." She stalked across the bodies towards him, gathering her strength for a backhanded blow that she meant to take his head off with.
Tharek sucked in his gut and grinded his teeth as he got up to stand on both legs. The pain was clearly visible on his face. "Jump out the nearest airlock you mechanical piece of slag." He said calmly, before he plunged the dagger right into her forehead.
It was perfectly timed. Her advance jerked to a stop, as the blade hit home between the eyes and jammed all the way to the hilt. Her body went stiff. She grasped at his wrists, but it was reflex, there no strength there, she was holding on for support, not to kill. She dropped to her knees, black eyes blinking, and for the first time, Tharek saw a very unborglike reaction. He saw fear.
Tharek let out a sinister laugh, and pushed the Queen to the floor. She still had Isha's face, and Isha now lay on the floor with a blade between her eyes. He lent down to retrieve the blade and took it from her skull, which made a stomach churning sound as it left her head.
"Computer, can we end program now?" Tharek said through his panting.
It made him wait whilst the queen was completely dead; the last neurons fired and the last circuits died. Finally she, the hordes of drones, and the cube itself dissolved away to leave him standing in the octaganal room. The blood of a hundred assimilated species vanished, and all that was left was the sticky scabbing clots of his own where the enemy had landed a blow.
Yolanthe pushed herself up onto her knees, and felt at her puffy face. The skin around her eye had gone black, true black, and swollen so much she couldn't see out of it. "Uggh. What happened?" Her words were slightly slurred. She frowned and then reached into her mouth and pulled out a molar. She looked at it, puzzled, and then twisted away and began to dry retch, spitting out bile and blood onto the holodeck floor.
"We won?" He said, as he collapsed back down onto the floor. He sat himself up, but outstreched his leg to try and ease the pain a little. "You look pretty banged up. Computer, request medical beam-out for myself and Yolanthe Ibalin to sickbay."
By the time Klia threw the manual release, they were gone.
OFF
Yolanthe Ibalin,
Owner & Bartender, The (Malfunctioning) Box of Delights
Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Taking on the galaxy, one Borg at a time.
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Post Details
| Title | Borg & Belligerance, Part 5 | |
| Mission | Interlude | |
| Author(s) | Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal | |
| Posted | Sat Jun 05, 2010 @ 3:30pm | |
| Location | The Box of Delights | |
| Timeline | Sd18 |
OLD:
Before his eyes, it was Isha's face, and Isha's voice, Isha's hand that touched him. "Soon you will serve us."
Wrong choice of words
Tharek began his merciless assault. Before seconds had passed, Tharek had lopped the arm off of the nearest drone. The drone slumped backwards and fell into stillness. Tharek pushed the remaining Borg back with his free hand. "Small being?!" He said as he sucked in a breath. He bellowed his next words around the room, echoing. It filled ever corner with his voice.
"I am Cardassian!"
NEW:
Yolanthe slammed the door of the runabout shut, and leant against it, breathing hard. That had been… interesting. She looked down at her bare stomach for a moment. Three feint silver lines of blood showed on her abdomen, where a drone with a three hooked limb instead of a hand had been millimetres from eviscerating her. Interesting. Yes, that was one word.
But she’d made it through, leaving the ambassador against all her instincts. “Computer?” It beeped an acknowledgement. “Scan for cardassian life signs on this Cube.”
“There is one cardassian aboard.”
The tactical display showed her where. It then showed her the borg life signs. They clustered around the single point of the ambassador, like flies on a corpse. Her skin went from bright yellow to green in less than moment. “Merciful death!” She looked around the shuttle for inspiration. She couldn’t sit around and wait. No matter how skilled the Ambassador, numbers won. Numbers always won.
------
"I am Cardassian!"
From far behind a wall of drones, the Queen laughed. “You are irrelevant. A forgotton remnant of a inferior race. Your kind has been defeated before, and will be again, and again. We shall leave enough of you intact that you will be aware of that, when we assimilate your homeworld.”
The borg fell on him, slashing, cutting, walking over the bodies of the fallen to get to him
"Inferior?" Tharek said through a grin. "I'll show you inferior!" He yelled as he charged for the Borg. He himself was slashing and cutting, but with brutal and killing efficiency. Every strike hit it's target, every slash was met with the cold touch of metal and flesh.
The borg attacked in silence, always keeping themselves between Tharek and the queen. As they fell in front, they closed behind. One closed, and lashed out, cutting a line across the back of his calf, another left a shallow slice across his bicep. Then one seized him from behind and pinned his arms to his side and began to squeeze.
"This... Is why... I hate the Borg." Tharek said, struggling for breath. He had come too far in his life to be brought down by a holo program.
The lack of air made his senses spin. The Borg that held increased his grip, crushing yet more air and life from the Cardassian. Around him drones moved, their purpose changing. Instead of pressing him in, they were passing forward items and equipment, assembling their tools.
Held on the edge of consciousness, he could only watch as they brought out saws, spikes and scoops. He saw drones holding the ocular implant, the body armour ready for grafting, and finally, the artificial arm. Unlike the real victims of the Borg, there would be no nanoprobes to cancel the pain when they put out an eye, or stem the blood when they amputated his hand. They were going to assimilate him forcefully, and he would be very much awake, very much aware. At least when they began.
"You see," the queen purred in Isha's voice, "Resistance is futile." A drone wielding a laser bone-saw stepped forward. Another pulled his left arm out, and pushed back the sleeve.
"Fuck you." Tharek spat the words at the Queen through gritted teeth.
"Hey Bitch!" All the drones and the queen looked round, moving as a single being, to see Yolanthe leaning out of the door of the little runabout flying straight towards the centre of the huge chamber. Her foot rested on a black crate, about a meter by half meter. "Resist this." She pushed the crate out of the shuttlecraft.
As it plunged downwards, the runabout swooped low over the heads of the drones. Yolanthe grabbed the side of the doorway and held out her other hand. "Ambassador! Jump!"
Tharek didn't think. It was an opportunity, and if he didn't take it then he would die. He lunged upward and slammed his hand into Yolanthe's. For a moment he dangled above the collective, barely out of their reach, and then the woman heaved him up into the doorway with her.
The crate hit the floor, and a second later, it exploded, spraying the Borg with shrapnel and a viscous green liquid that almost instantly turned into a vile choking gas that slithered around the floor, obscuring the Borg and their queen from view. Moments later the Cube's filters kicked in, sucking away the corrosive gases, giving them glimpses of a floor carpeted with dead and twitching drones.
Yolanthe nodded in satisfaction and turned to Getal as the runabout continued on its automated path around the chamber. "The benefit of playing a game with no safeties," she grinned as the corrosive gases cleared. "You can get anything out of a replicator, even Frag grenades and plasma coolant! Should have shredded everything down there, even the -" Her words cut off sharply as a grey metal tentacle snapped around her waist and snatched her from the doorway.
The bokkai landed awkwardly at the feet of the Queen. The plasma coolent had stripped swathes of flesh from her face and shrapnel lodged in her body, but with every passing second the nanoprobes repaired the damage. The long tentacle uncoiled from Yolanthe and retracted into her arm. "Pathetic little girl," the queen told her. "You're not even worth assimilating." She dragged Yolanthe to her knees by the hair, and punched her once, twice, three times in the face with inhuman speed. Then the Borg queen grabbed her round the neck with one hand, around the thigh with another and threw her effortlessly in a long, lazy arc into a pillar thirty feet away.
The bartender hit it about fifteen foot up, crashed to the floor and lay still. In an incongruously human gesture, the Borg Queen dusted her hands.
"I'm just too fed up with this." Tharek said to no-one inparticular. Tharek still had the knife in his hand, which glistened with the blood of all different races. Greens, reds and blues engulfed the blade from hilt to tip. He looked down on the chamber. It was at least fifteen, maybe twenty feet down. "You owe me for this Bokkai!" He yelled.
The next move Tharek made was out of the Runabout. He had lunged himself out of the ship with a determined look on his face and blade in hand.
The landing was not perfect. The jump was too high, and too many corpses littered the ground. As he hit, his leg twisted hard, so hard he could almost hear the snap, and he dropped to one knee as a brief flash of agony shot up through his body.
The Queen turned, first surprised, and then sneering. "If you are truly so keen to die, we shall accommodate you." She stalked across the bodies towards him, gathering her strength for a backhanded blow that she meant to take his head off with.
Tharek sucked in his gut and grinded his teeth as he got up to stand on both legs. The pain was clearly visible on his face. "Jump out the nearest airlock you mechanical piece of slag." He said calmly, before he plunged the dagger right into her forehead.
It was perfectly timed. Her advance jerked to a stop, as the blade hit home between the eyes and jammed all the way to the hilt. Her body went stiff. She grasped at his wrists, but it was reflex, there no strength there, she was holding on for support, not to kill. She dropped to her knees, black eyes blinking, and for the first time, Tharek saw a very unborglike reaction. He saw fear.
Tharek let out a sinister laugh, and pushed the Queen to the floor. She still had Isha's face, and Isha now lay on the floor with a blade between her eyes. He lent down to retrieve the blade and took it from her skull, which made a stomach churning sound as it left her head.
"Computer, can we end program now?" Tharek said through his panting.
It made him wait whilst the queen was completely dead; the last neurons fired and the last circuits died. Finally she, the hordes of drones, and the cube itself dissolved away to leave him standing in the octaganal room. The blood of a hundred assimilated species vanished, and all that was left was the sticky scabbing clots of his own where the enemy had landed a blow.
Yolanthe pushed herself up onto her knees, and felt at her puffy face. The skin around her eye had gone black, true black, and swollen so much she couldn't see out of it. "Uggh. What happened?" Her words were slightly slurred. She frowned and then reached into her mouth and pulled out a molar. She looked at it, puzzled, and then twisted away and began to dry retch, spitting out bile and blood onto the holodeck floor.
"We won?" He said, as he collapsed back down onto the floor. He sat himself up, but outstreched his leg to try and ease the pain a little. "You look pretty banged up. Computer, request medical beam-out for myself and Yolanthe Ibalin to sickbay."
By the time Klia threw the manual release, they were gone.
OFF
Yolanthe Ibalin,
Owner & Bartender, The (Malfunctioning) Box of Delights
Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Taking on the galaxy, one Borg at a time.