Deception: The lesser part of Valour – Princedoms, Virtues, Powers
by Commander Isha t'Vaurek
Post Details
The maintenance man known on Deep Space Five as Pellan Joran had little trouble getting to his destination, indeed it was a much easier journey than he had ever imagined. He was to travel alone, leaving the woman he knew as Pellan Janna behind, to board the civilian shuttle Enigma at the appointed time and to wear the ring that was contained in the package along with his instructions.
All very cloak and dagger, he thought to himself, not to mention tiresome. Could these people not do business like normal beings?
What puzzled Joran the most was that the final instruction was to answer the call of nature at a particular time, which was weird, by anyone’s estimation. He did as requested though he did not see the point, as he closed the door to the cubicle and locked it he was more concerned with what he was supposed to do when the shuttlecraft reached its final destination – he had no idea who he was supposed to meet and did not relish the idea of a stranger knowing who he was.
“Well,” he said to the wall, “What now?”
The answer to his question came in a shimmer and a tingle that emanated from the greenish stone set in the ring.”
Joran’s eyes widened in astonishment, “Fuck me! A trans …”
“…ponder,” he finished as his eyes darted around the dimly lit transporter room. “I never did like wearing jewellery,” he remarked as he took a tentative step forward, he still hadn’t got used to the Bajoran earring required as part of his disguise.
Joran swallowed. “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in the Federation any more,” he muttered.
“I could not risk a communication with the station,” a voice said in softly accented Federation Standard as its owner stepped from the shadows. “This seemed the simplest way to meet.”
Simple, Joran thought, Simple to almost give me a coronary, but he kept this thought to himself. “Are you the money?” he asked, trying to sound less shocked and more business like.
“I am Nniol i-Ihhliae tr’Illialhlae, as you say, the ‘money’. You are aboard the Vrelnec, we will be neither disturbed nor overheard in this room.”
Can you still say that when you’re pissed? Joran thought behind what he hoped was a suitably awed expression. It seemed to do the trick, the Romulan was positively bursting with self importance. Joran had seen his type before.
“A great ship, belonging to a Great House,” Nniol said proudly, “Which will be greater still.”
“I’m not so keyed up on Romulan politics Mr Ill … sir,” Joran said, he couldn’t pronounce it if he was sober! Having no interest in listening to what would undoubtedly be a self congratulatory spiel of drivel to which he would have to respond with copious and insincere flattery Joran folded his arms. “That shuttle has an hour left to reach its destination, if I’m not back on it I’ll be missed,” he said.
“Business then,” Nniol said somewhat tightly, perhaps chagrined at being deprived of an opportunity to hear the sound of his own voice. “How far have you got?”
“Janna is in contact with her, but it’s complicated.”
“What do you mean ‘complicated’ – she’s alone, and unprotected.”
“Janna’s attempt to monopolise her time came too late, she’d already made contacts with other people. No-one is suspicious of a maintenance man, so I’ve been able to keep close watch,” Joran handed Nniol a padd containing still images of Isha t’Khellian meeting with various people around the station, “there is a bigger problem though, that friend of hers that keeps hanging around.”
“What friend?”
Joran shrugged, “How should I know? One of your lot!”
“By ‘your lot’ I assume you mean a Rihanha, a citizen of the Romulan Star Empire.”
“Yeah, one of your lot. He’s hanging around all the time. Janna tried to find out more, but he got suspicious,” Joran did not add that there had been a mistake with Janna’s earring and that one of the real Bajorans that was with Isha may have spotted it; there was not enough good news to compensate for that slip up.
“Who is this man?” Nniol asked.
“He’s with the embassy.”
“Show me.”
As Nniol looked at the still image a smirk spread across his face. “Isha was abducted once before, you know,” he said, knowing that Joran did not know this. “She insisted on travelling alone against the protests of her husband, my brother. She was on her way to visit relatives on an outlying colony, had Nveid, my brother not received an alert it could have been weeks before we knew she was missing; as it was the alert came from someone very senior in the Galae, nothing more than her name and the co-ordinates where she could be found.
“The official story was that a routine patrol had disturbed a den of pirates who then escaped leaving their captive behind. Of course it was necessary to make a pursuit and the small size of the patrol ship made it impossible to leave anyone behind. All they could do was to send that basic information. When we found her she was imprisoned in a dank pit in a cavern, naked, half starved, suffering from dehydration and hypothermia. The odd thing was that apart from that she was unharmed.”
Joran was not sure why the Romulan was telling him this, he did not need a life history to do his job but a response seemed to be required. “Very odd, not beaten, not raped. Did they plan to make a ransom demand?”
Nniol shook his head, “And there was no sign of habitation either. Whoever had been there had not been there long. Whatever their plans were they either they panicked and fled, or else they were found out and warned off. Isha was delirious when we found her, muttering about retribution and how it was her fault, insisting that he wasn’t to blame. What do you think she meant by that? Of course she denied everything once she regained her senses. She said she did not see any of her captors and nothing would make her change that story.”
“Nothing?” Joran doubted that, Romulans were famed for loosening stubborn tongues.
“There were other methods but Nveid insisted that he believed her, and he quite adamant that he was not going to let anyone torture his wife. There was nothing more I could do. But shall I tell you an interesting coincidence … at the same time, and this is over thirty years ago, that man, his name is Rh’vaurek Raedheol, by the way, was suddenly transferred to a remote outpost from a posting in the very area where my brother’s wife went missing. What do you make of that?”
“So he’s a bastard chancer with friends in high places, why is this relevant?”
“I want you to know the sort of person you are dealing with, because I am having serious doubts about the abilities of you and your associate given your failure to produce any results so far.”
“You can rely on us, we just need to change strategy, but if word of that is true, why the hell is she hanging around with him?”
“The answer to that is in her own words, the hysterical insistence that it was not his fault. Are you familiar with the concept of mnhei'sahe?” Nniol enquired suddenly.
Joran rolled his eyes, first history, now philosophy; This fella likes the sound of his own voice a bit too much, he thought.
“Of course you haven’t,” Nniol answered for him, “It is a code of honour to which the individual is bound. I have deduced that this Raedheol felt himself compelled to act as he did and that Isha believed he had every right to, the key to that is in the word ‘retribution’ it became clear to me that knew this man prior to her marriage to my brother, I became curious as to how well she knew him. I was vexed when I met dead end after dead end – records of their movements during the period just before her marriage to my brother were missing, erased, classified. Now, as a people we Rihannsu are of a suspicious nature, and I was suspicious but my brother refused to listen to my case, he even went as far as naming her his heir above me and now she has named her own daughter above me. That child is not strong enough to rule a Great House. Isha must be persuaded to change her decision and to relinquish her claim to the House of Illialhlae and to name me as her successor. If she cannot be persuaded then she must be removed.”
Joran saw then the reason for Nniol’s speech, the Romulan needed to believe that he was justified and that his actions were guided by their bizarre honour code, not by plain and simple greed and ambition, which seemed more likely.
It was clear to Joran that the Romulan had been nurturing this end for years and had reached the point where murder and treachery were his only options; Joran had no qualms about that, but now Nniol had enlisted him as his confessor, experience told Joran that once this business was over, his own life expectancy was likely to be short if he did not have the means in place to disappear.
“How do you want us to proceed?” Joran asked impassively.
“I want to know what the true story is, whether you get it from him or from her is irrelevant, I want proof that my claim to the House is stronger than hers or her daughter’s and I want her discredited. If it cannot be achieved quickly arrange an accident.”
“Very well,” Joran replied keen to be on his way. The combination of dim lighting and close dark walls was making him feel claustrophobic. Too long on a ship like this would be enough to drive anyone mad, he thought, Maybe that’s why every Romulan I’ve ever met is seven shades of crazy.
OFF
Nniol i-Ihhliae tr’Illialhlae, brother of Isha t’Khellian’s late husband
&
Pellan Janna, Maintenance Man and fake Bajoran
NPCd by Louise
by Commander Isha t'Vaurek
Post Details
| Title | Princedoms, Virtues, Powers | |
| Mission | Deception: The lesser part of Valour | |
| Author(s) | Commander Isha t'Vaurek | |
| Posted | Wed Nov 12, 2008 @ 3:02pm | |
| Location | Elsewhere | |
| Timeline | Station day 3: time unknown |
All very cloak and dagger, he thought to himself, not to mention tiresome. Could these people not do business like normal beings?
What puzzled Joran the most was that the final instruction was to answer the call of nature at a particular time, which was weird, by anyone’s estimation. He did as requested though he did not see the point, as he closed the door to the cubicle and locked it he was more concerned with what he was supposed to do when the shuttlecraft reached its final destination – he had no idea who he was supposed to meet and did not relish the idea of a stranger knowing who he was.
“Well,” he said to the wall, “What now?”
The answer to his question came in a shimmer and a tingle that emanated from the greenish stone set in the ring.”
Joran’s eyes widened in astonishment, “Fuck me! A trans …”
“…ponder,” he finished as his eyes darted around the dimly lit transporter room. “I never did like wearing jewellery,” he remarked as he took a tentative step forward, he still hadn’t got used to the Bajoran earring required as part of his disguise.
Joran swallowed. “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in the Federation any more,” he muttered.
“I could not risk a communication with the station,” a voice said in softly accented Federation Standard as its owner stepped from the shadows. “This seemed the simplest way to meet.”
Simple, Joran thought, Simple to almost give me a coronary, but he kept this thought to himself. “Are you the money?” he asked, trying to sound less shocked and more business like.
“I am Nniol i-Ihhliae tr’Illialhlae, as you say, the ‘money’. You are aboard the Vrelnec, we will be neither disturbed nor overheard in this room.”
Can you still say that when you’re pissed? Joran thought behind what he hoped was a suitably awed expression. It seemed to do the trick, the Romulan was positively bursting with self importance. Joran had seen his type before.
“A great ship, belonging to a Great House,” Nniol said proudly, “Which will be greater still.”
“I’m not so keyed up on Romulan politics Mr Ill … sir,” Joran said, he couldn’t pronounce it if he was sober! Having no interest in listening to what would undoubtedly be a self congratulatory spiel of drivel to which he would have to respond with copious and insincere flattery Joran folded his arms. “That shuttle has an hour left to reach its destination, if I’m not back on it I’ll be missed,” he said.
“Business then,” Nniol said somewhat tightly, perhaps chagrined at being deprived of an opportunity to hear the sound of his own voice. “How far have you got?”
“Janna is in contact with her, but it’s complicated.”
“What do you mean ‘complicated’ – she’s alone, and unprotected.”
“Janna’s attempt to monopolise her time came too late, she’d already made contacts with other people. No-one is suspicious of a maintenance man, so I’ve been able to keep close watch,” Joran handed Nniol a padd containing still images of Isha t’Khellian meeting with various people around the station, “there is a bigger problem though, that friend of hers that keeps hanging around.”
“What friend?”
Joran shrugged, “How should I know? One of your lot!”
“By ‘your lot’ I assume you mean a Rihanha, a citizen of the Romulan Star Empire.”
“Yeah, one of your lot. He’s hanging around all the time. Janna tried to find out more, but he got suspicious,” Joran did not add that there had been a mistake with Janna’s earring and that one of the real Bajorans that was with Isha may have spotted it; there was not enough good news to compensate for that slip up.
“Who is this man?” Nniol asked.
“He’s with the embassy.”
“Show me.”
As Nniol looked at the still image a smirk spread across his face. “Isha was abducted once before, you know,” he said, knowing that Joran did not know this. “She insisted on travelling alone against the protests of her husband, my brother. She was on her way to visit relatives on an outlying colony, had Nveid, my brother not received an alert it could have been weeks before we knew she was missing; as it was the alert came from someone very senior in the Galae, nothing more than her name and the co-ordinates where she could be found.
“The official story was that a routine patrol had disturbed a den of pirates who then escaped leaving their captive behind. Of course it was necessary to make a pursuit and the small size of the patrol ship made it impossible to leave anyone behind. All they could do was to send that basic information. When we found her she was imprisoned in a dank pit in a cavern, naked, half starved, suffering from dehydration and hypothermia. The odd thing was that apart from that she was unharmed.”
Joran was not sure why the Romulan was telling him this, he did not need a life history to do his job but a response seemed to be required. “Very odd, not beaten, not raped. Did they plan to make a ransom demand?”
Nniol shook his head, “And there was no sign of habitation either. Whoever had been there had not been there long. Whatever their plans were they either they panicked and fled, or else they were found out and warned off. Isha was delirious when we found her, muttering about retribution and how it was her fault, insisting that he wasn’t to blame. What do you think she meant by that? Of course she denied everything once she regained her senses. She said she did not see any of her captors and nothing would make her change that story.”
“Nothing?” Joran doubted that, Romulans were famed for loosening stubborn tongues.
“There were other methods but Nveid insisted that he believed her, and he quite adamant that he was not going to let anyone torture his wife. There was nothing more I could do. But shall I tell you an interesting coincidence … at the same time, and this is over thirty years ago, that man, his name is Rh’vaurek Raedheol, by the way, was suddenly transferred to a remote outpost from a posting in the very area where my brother’s wife went missing. What do you make of that?”
“So he’s a bastard chancer with friends in high places, why is this relevant?”
“I want you to know the sort of person you are dealing with, because I am having serious doubts about the abilities of you and your associate given your failure to produce any results so far.”
“You can rely on us, we just need to change strategy, but if word of that is true, why the hell is she hanging around with him?”
“The answer to that is in her own words, the hysterical insistence that it was not his fault. Are you familiar with the concept of mnhei'sahe?” Nniol enquired suddenly.
Joran rolled his eyes, first history, now philosophy; This fella likes the sound of his own voice a bit too much, he thought.
“Of course you haven’t,” Nniol answered for him, “It is a code of honour to which the individual is bound. I have deduced that this Raedheol felt himself compelled to act as he did and that Isha believed he had every right to, the key to that is in the word ‘retribution’ it became clear to me that knew this man prior to her marriage to my brother, I became curious as to how well she knew him. I was vexed when I met dead end after dead end – records of their movements during the period just before her marriage to my brother were missing, erased, classified. Now, as a people we Rihannsu are of a suspicious nature, and I was suspicious but my brother refused to listen to my case, he even went as far as naming her his heir above me and now she has named her own daughter above me. That child is not strong enough to rule a Great House. Isha must be persuaded to change her decision and to relinquish her claim to the House of Illialhlae and to name me as her successor. If she cannot be persuaded then she must be removed.”
Joran saw then the reason for Nniol’s speech, the Romulan needed to believe that he was justified and that his actions were guided by their bizarre honour code, not by plain and simple greed and ambition, which seemed more likely.
It was clear to Joran that the Romulan had been nurturing this end for years and had reached the point where murder and treachery were his only options; Joran had no qualms about that, but now Nniol had enlisted him as his confessor, experience told Joran that once this business was over, his own life expectancy was likely to be short if he did not have the means in place to disappear.
“How do you want us to proceed?” Joran asked impassively.
“I want to know what the true story is, whether you get it from him or from her is irrelevant, I want proof that my claim to the House is stronger than hers or her daughter’s and I want her discredited. If it cannot be achieved quickly arrange an accident.”
“Very well,” Joran replied keen to be on his way. The combination of dim lighting and close dark walls was making him feel claustrophobic. Too long on a ship like this would be enough to drive anyone mad, he thought, Maybe that’s why every Romulan I’ve ever met is seven shades of crazy.
OFF
Nniol i-Ihhliae tr’Illialhlae, brother of Isha t’Khellian’s late husband
&
Pellan Janna, Maintenance Man and fake Bajoran
NPCd by Louise