Unity – So the Story Goes (Part 3)
by Captain Tasha Tahir (NPC) & Commander Karen Villiers & Chief Executive Officer Wayne Bradshaw & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Commander Chelsea Dunham & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Post Details
Mercy tried to speak but was drowned out. She was pushed forward as a wave of movement surged from the back of the bar and she lost her footing, stumbling with outstretched arms into the middle of the gap in front of Yolanthe and right in the path of the oncoming mob.
Mokab knew now was the time to leave, as he moved towards the door and slipped through.
The promenade was cool compared to the bar and as soon as he stepped back, he turned and ran as fast as his little legs would carry him, to the nearest general communicator.
His hand slammed the panel, sending out the call.
"Greeting to whomsoever may be attending at the opposing end of this device. Be heeding, there is a shivaree of civilians who are rather discordial in light of the occurrences that have taken place. I would urge you to attend with men of security post haste." The Bolian advised and with a final glance over his shoulder, he disappeared.
---
Bryan tried to grasp her, but Mercy was down before he could reach her collar to stop her from falling. At the same time, the Cardassian slammed his hand into Bryans chest, knocking the puff from him.
Bryan fell to his knees and though he was winded, he sensed that the shove was not malicious, but protective as the Cardassian stood over Mercy.
The human with the glass bottle had just enough self-preservation instinct left to change the direction of the swing he was aiming at Mercy's unprotected back when he saw the Romulan step forward to cover her. Instead he side stepped, bringing the slash meant for Mercy in a vicious arc towards the Bokkai next to her. Yolanthe jumped aside, catching his wrist and turning it savagely until she could pluck the makeshift weapon from his unresisting fingers and fling into a dark corner. Then she was left with the problem of what to do with the man in the arm lock. She couldn't hit him. She settled for grabbing his shirt and propelling him to the side, away from the mob, and crashing him down into a chair, which collapsed underneath him, leaving groaning on the floor. "Stay there!" she growled, and raced back to the crowd.
The gap the human had left quickly filled. A Trill woman and Denobulan male stepped into it together, eyes locked on the Romulan. They went for him together, the denobulan lunging for Rh'vaurek's knees, the trill woman grabbing for his neck.
Rh'vaurek spun, swinging his elbow into the Trill's throat, his foot smashing into the Denoblun's skull; he had not let the skills that had propelled him to fame in his youth grow stale. The moves of Kormorek became part of oneself if one learned them early, he reflected in that instant as he stamped on the Denobulan's ribs. That one was not getting up again.
The next second Rh'vaurek straightened and turned back to the spluttering Trill.
She stepped back, uncertain now her partner was dead flesh on the floor. The mob had no mercy, and pushed forward, carrying her with them. Desperate not to take on the deadly romulan, she grabbed the nearest glass and flung it with all her might at his face.
Had she been a little taller, or he a little shorter, Rh'vaurek could well be missing an eye, as it was his reflexes saved him and his arm took the force of the blow. With the woman's weight behind it the glass splintered its way through his sleeve into his bicep.
"Imirrhlhhse, au`rh yy'a," he swore grabbing the base and pulling it from his flesh. As he threw the remains of the glass to the floor he knocked the Trill aside with the back of his hand and took a step back behind his companions. It was not cowardice, just common sense, there was glass in the wound which seared when he flexed his arm; he could still fight but he could no longer be their first line.
"Take it easy." Tharek spoke quietly toward Rh'vaurek. "It wouldn't be a fair fight if it was just you. Get back, rest and let me do some of the work now." Tharek smiled deviously as he turned back towards the mob.
Shres P'Trell did not like Romulans, he did not like Cardassians and had little time for humans or swirly skinned aliens either. What Shres P'Trell cared for was his business and this conflagration had interrupted a deal he had been hoping to close for weeks. He stepped forward, slipping an ushaan-tor into his hand and with the other pushing someone aside so that he could reach the little group of self-appointed protectors, at 2.6 meters to the tips of his antennae he was taller than any of them, Shres P'Trell wanted compensation for his lost business and he did not really care which of them paid.
"You think you're heroes?" the Andorian challenged.
Tharek accepted the challenge, he was itching to get involved. "Not hereos, friends." He replied. Before stepping up to the Andorian. "If you choose to denounce that friendship, that's your problem."
"Don't make me laugh," Shres P'Trell replied, his antennae twitching in irritation, "if you're not with us, you're against us," he said, fingers tightening around the handle of the ushaan-tor, the blade glinted in the light as it moved.
Tharek spotted it. As difficult as it was for a Cardassian in the light, he spotted it. "We're against no-one. We only wish to help... " Tharek paused as he lunged forward. Grabbing the Andorian by both his arms and tightening them around his back. He pulled, harder and harder until the man had no choice but to drop his weapon. Once he did, Tharek pushed him onto the floor, and layed a foot on his chest, making sure he wouldn't get up when he was speaking. He picked up the ushaan-tor, and shouted into the crowd, "Is this how you show gratitude! By questioning our intentions with broken bottles and blades?!" He paced over to the Rh'vaurek, and stood next to him, fully erect. "We offer nothing but help! Those who oppose our help, aren't opposing us, their opposing you! The people of this station!"
But they were not listening.
The red mist descended over Bryan and he was helpless to rescue his love whom he lost sight of.
He felt spittle of blood spatter at his cheek and he waded forward, his fist clenched around thin necked bottle. Had he realised the bottle was a rare vintage, he would never have swung it so ferociously at the lumbering hulk of the Nausicaan that had cut a swathe through the crowd and nor did he realise that the intended target was Romulan ambassador.
He swung back his arm and then threw it forward, only releasing his grip on the carafe as it made contact with the gorillas upper jaw. The content of the bottle spewed in all directions, but the Nuasicaan just laughed at the administrator and raised his arms as he altered his direction towards Surzchenko.
Bryan swallowed in fear and thought this would mean a long a stay in the medical bay when the maniacal grin fell from the Nausicaans face and fell at Bryans feet as he stepped backward. His eyes followed him to the floor and as he looked upwards, he saw Tharek standing there with a table leg with an equally wicked grin on his face.
Bryan nodded an unsaid thanks to the Cardassian.
With a strip torn from his own shirt Rh'vaurek had taken part of a minute to apply a tourniquet. Until he heard the man fall he had been distracted; a Romulan station, or indeed a Cardassian one would have had the crowd contained by now.
Rh'vaurek grunted his digust as he pulled the strip of fabric tight and returned to the fray.
Yolanthe didn't like the way this was going. The crowd pressed them from three sides now. They already had their backs to the bar, there was no room for retreat. They were outnumbered, and even if the Romulan and Cardassian were far more skilled at fighting she ever expected politicians to be, numbers would win out. The usual tactics for ending a bar fight weren't going to work. The Romulan stepped up again, even though his arm was bandaged. But he was favouring his other side, and was at the wrong angle to stop the Lurian that was charging in, fist wound back for a blow that would take his jaw clean off. In front of her a Ferengi pulled a slender knife from inside his coat, beady eyes fixed on her stomach. No decision. She turned her back on the Ferengi and lunged for Rh'vaurek. She meant to pull him back from the Lurian, but the Ferengi stepped up behind her, and sunk the blade in all the way to hilt.
The Lurian struck.
Bloody spittle hit the floor.
Rh'vaurek staggered back into the bar. Shoving his elbows back he braced himself against it, raised his legs and straightened them, his feet slamming into the Lurian's chest. Physics did its work sending the Lurian reeling backwards into the crowd causing them to ripple back.
Every time he moved it the dull ache in his arm lanced, but Rh'vaurek ignored it and seized one of the bar stools with both hands, using it to fend back the rabble and keep the room they had gained.
Survival.
"Come on, Chelsea," he growled through gritted teeth as his barrier strained against weight and numbers, "Where the hell is that assistance?"
Yolanthe turned and backhanded the Ferengi with everything she'd got and had the satisfaction of hearing his ear lobes break under the impact. Then the shock took over. Blood pounded her her ears, roaring louder than the baying of the mob. She grabbed at the knife handle. Don't let anyone pull it out. Stay standing. Don't let the crowd see weakness. The buzzing in her ears grew louder, and silver blood started to leak through her fingers. Stay standing. Once you're on the floor, the kicking starts, and no-one gets up from that. Stay standing. It was getting brighter too. Find the next opponent, keep going, or no-ones getting out of this alive. She wavered on her feet, and prayed that she didn't have to keep this up for long.
"CITIZENS" a voice boomed through the room. "THIS WILL BE YOUR ONLY WARNING."
For the first time something had caught the colective attention of the crowd. Rh'vuarek's gaze flicked up. he saw the shadows on the upper level.
Rh'vaurek dropped the stool and drew back to Yolanthe. He grabbed her arm with his good one. "Tharek, get the admins," he hissed, "Whatever you do hold your breath," he said, as an odd whooshing sound flew overhead "you too," he said to the Bokkai, as his hand found the knife protruding from her belly. He left his hand there over hers and opened the comm channel Chelsea had used earlier.
Tharek nodded understandingly, as he ran through the crowd to the two Starfleet officers, he grabbed them by their collars and spoke loudly, "Hold your breath, whatever you do, do not breathe!" as soon as he finished, he took in a deep breath, and looked over the crowd, who were soon to be incapacitated.
If she was not there they, like everyone else in the room was going to wake up later with one hell of a headache as the neural sedative that his people had fired into the room took hold.
"Chelsea, it's Rh'vaurek," he said as a small package thrown from above fell close to his feet.
=^= Thank the Prophets. Are you ok? =^= the concern in her voice was evident. =^= I passed on both your messages. What's happening? =^=
"We've got wounded, one serious. lock on these co-ordinates two Starfleet sigs, one Cardassian, mine and get us out of here," he transferred his own communicator to Yolanthe. The Doctor will take care of you," he said aware from the occaisional heavy, dull thud that the crowd were already beginning to succumb to the gas.
Chelsea again obeyed the Romulan's instruction without question and to the letter. Her trust in Rh'vaurek had become total despite Isha's early warnings.
Rh'vaurek's lungs were beginning to sting with the effort of not inhaling, but he waited until his companions were away before he fell to his knees and retreived the package his people had thrown to him, welcoming the taste of the air as he looped the breathing apparatus around his head.
Along with the shadow team that i-Orinwen had sent to complete the extraction, Rh'vaurek slipped away. By the time Starfleet Security got their act in order all they would find would be a former mob sleeping soundly.
OFF:
A JP between:
Lt. Cmdr. Chelsea Adams
CMO DS5
and CWO 2 Mercedes Denoublier
Administrative Officer - (NPC)
erie'Khrein Rh'vaurek Raedheol
Acting Romulan Ambassador
NPC by Louise
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner & Bartender, The Box of Delights
Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Cardassian Ambassador
Mokab Mellibrate
Bolian Trader
And
Chief Warrant officer Bryan Surzchenko
By Mark
by Captain Tasha Tahir (NPC) & Commander Karen Villiers & Chief Executive Officer Wayne Bradshaw & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Commander Chelsea Dunham & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Post Details
| Title | So the Story Goes (Part 3) | |
| Mission | Unity | |
| Author(s) | Captain Tasha Tahir (NPC) & Commander Karen Villiers & Chief Executive Officer Wayne Bradshaw & Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Commander Chelsea Dunham & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal | |
| Posted | Sun Feb 14, 2010 @ 3:27pm | |
| Location | Box Of Delights | |
| Timeline | SD 16 - 23:30 |
Mokab knew now was the time to leave, as he moved towards the door and slipped through.
The promenade was cool compared to the bar and as soon as he stepped back, he turned and ran as fast as his little legs would carry him, to the nearest general communicator.
His hand slammed the panel, sending out the call.
"Greeting to whomsoever may be attending at the opposing end of this device. Be heeding, there is a shivaree of civilians who are rather discordial in light of the occurrences that have taken place. I would urge you to attend with men of security post haste." The Bolian advised and with a final glance over his shoulder, he disappeared.
---
Bryan tried to grasp her, but Mercy was down before he could reach her collar to stop her from falling. At the same time, the Cardassian slammed his hand into Bryans chest, knocking the puff from him.
Bryan fell to his knees and though he was winded, he sensed that the shove was not malicious, but protective as the Cardassian stood over Mercy.
The human with the glass bottle had just enough self-preservation instinct left to change the direction of the swing he was aiming at Mercy's unprotected back when he saw the Romulan step forward to cover her. Instead he side stepped, bringing the slash meant for Mercy in a vicious arc towards the Bokkai next to her. Yolanthe jumped aside, catching his wrist and turning it savagely until she could pluck the makeshift weapon from his unresisting fingers and fling into a dark corner. Then she was left with the problem of what to do with the man in the arm lock. She couldn't hit him. She settled for grabbing his shirt and propelling him to the side, away from the mob, and crashing him down into a chair, which collapsed underneath him, leaving groaning on the floor. "Stay there!" she growled, and raced back to the crowd.
The gap the human had left quickly filled. A Trill woman and Denobulan male stepped into it together, eyes locked on the Romulan. They went for him together, the denobulan lunging for Rh'vaurek's knees, the trill woman grabbing for his neck.
Rh'vaurek spun, swinging his elbow into the Trill's throat, his foot smashing into the Denoblun's skull; he had not let the skills that had propelled him to fame in his youth grow stale. The moves of Kormorek became part of oneself if one learned them early, he reflected in that instant as he stamped on the Denobulan's ribs. That one was not getting up again.
The next second Rh'vaurek straightened and turned back to the spluttering Trill.
She stepped back, uncertain now her partner was dead flesh on the floor. The mob had no mercy, and pushed forward, carrying her with them. Desperate not to take on the deadly romulan, she grabbed the nearest glass and flung it with all her might at his face.
Had she been a little taller, or he a little shorter, Rh'vaurek could well be missing an eye, as it was his reflexes saved him and his arm took the force of the blow. With the woman's weight behind it the glass splintered its way through his sleeve into his bicep.
"Imirrhlhhse, au`rh yy'a," he swore grabbing the base and pulling it from his flesh. As he threw the remains of the glass to the floor he knocked the Trill aside with the back of his hand and took a step back behind his companions. It was not cowardice, just common sense, there was glass in the wound which seared when he flexed his arm; he could still fight but he could no longer be their first line.
"Take it easy." Tharek spoke quietly toward Rh'vaurek. "It wouldn't be a fair fight if it was just you. Get back, rest and let me do some of the work now." Tharek smiled deviously as he turned back towards the mob.
Shres P'Trell did not like Romulans, he did not like Cardassians and had little time for humans or swirly skinned aliens either. What Shres P'Trell cared for was his business and this conflagration had interrupted a deal he had been hoping to close for weeks. He stepped forward, slipping an ushaan-tor into his hand and with the other pushing someone aside so that he could reach the little group of self-appointed protectors, at 2.6 meters to the tips of his antennae he was taller than any of them, Shres P'Trell wanted compensation for his lost business and he did not really care which of them paid.
"You think you're heroes?" the Andorian challenged.
Tharek accepted the challenge, he was itching to get involved. "Not hereos, friends." He replied. Before stepping up to the Andorian. "If you choose to denounce that friendship, that's your problem."
"Don't make me laugh," Shres P'Trell replied, his antennae twitching in irritation, "if you're not with us, you're against us," he said, fingers tightening around the handle of the ushaan-tor, the blade glinted in the light as it moved.
Tharek spotted it. As difficult as it was for a Cardassian in the light, he spotted it. "We're against no-one. We only wish to help... " Tharek paused as he lunged forward. Grabbing the Andorian by both his arms and tightening them around his back. He pulled, harder and harder until the man had no choice but to drop his weapon. Once he did, Tharek pushed him onto the floor, and layed a foot on his chest, making sure he wouldn't get up when he was speaking. He picked up the ushaan-tor, and shouted into the crowd, "Is this how you show gratitude! By questioning our intentions with broken bottles and blades?!" He paced over to the Rh'vaurek, and stood next to him, fully erect. "We offer nothing but help! Those who oppose our help, aren't opposing us, their opposing you! The people of this station!"
But they were not listening.
The red mist descended over Bryan and he was helpless to rescue his love whom he lost sight of.
He felt spittle of blood spatter at his cheek and he waded forward, his fist clenched around thin necked bottle. Had he realised the bottle was a rare vintage, he would never have swung it so ferociously at the lumbering hulk of the Nausicaan that had cut a swathe through the crowd and nor did he realise that the intended target was Romulan ambassador.
He swung back his arm and then threw it forward, only releasing his grip on the carafe as it made contact with the gorillas upper jaw. The content of the bottle spewed in all directions, but the Nuasicaan just laughed at the administrator and raised his arms as he altered his direction towards Surzchenko.
Bryan swallowed in fear and thought this would mean a long a stay in the medical bay when the maniacal grin fell from the Nausicaans face and fell at Bryans feet as he stepped backward. His eyes followed him to the floor and as he looked upwards, he saw Tharek standing there with a table leg with an equally wicked grin on his face.
Bryan nodded an unsaid thanks to the Cardassian.
With a strip torn from his own shirt Rh'vaurek had taken part of a minute to apply a tourniquet. Until he heard the man fall he had been distracted; a Romulan station, or indeed a Cardassian one would have had the crowd contained by now.
Rh'vaurek grunted his digust as he pulled the strip of fabric tight and returned to the fray.
Yolanthe didn't like the way this was going. The crowd pressed them from three sides now. They already had their backs to the bar, there was no room for retreat. They were outnumbered, and even if the Romulan and Cardassian were far more skilled at fighting she ever expected politicians to be, numbers would win out. The usual tactics for ending a bar fight weren't going to work. The Romulan stepped up again, even though his arm was bandaged. But he was favouring his other side, and was at the wrong angle to stop the Lurian that was charging in, fist wound back for a blow that would take his jaw clean off. In front of her a Ferengi pulled a slender knife from inside his coat, beady eyes fixed on her stomach. No decision. She turned her back on the Ferengi and lunged for Rh'vaurek. She meant to pull him back from the Lurian, but the Ferengi stepped up behind her, and sunk the blade in all the way to hilt.
The Lurian struck.
Bloody spittle hit the floor.
Rh'vaurek staggered back into the bar. Shoving his elbows back he braced himself against it, raised his legs and straightened them, his feet slamming into the Lurian's chest. Physics did its work sending the Lurian reeling backwards into the crowd causing them to ripple back.
Every time he moved it the dull ache in his arm lanced, but Rh'vaurek ignored it and seized one of the bar stools with both hands, using it to fend back the rabble and keep the room they had gained.
Survival.
"Come on, Chelsea," he growled through gritted teeth as his barrier strained against weight and numbers, "Where the hell is that assistance?"
Yolanthe turned and backhanded the Ferengi with everything she'd got and had the satisfaction of hearing his ear lobes break under the impact. Then the shock took over. Blood pounded her her ears, roaring louder than the baying of the mob. She grabbed at the knife handle. Don't let anyone pull it out. Stay standing. Don't let the crowd see weakness. The buzzing in her ears grew louder, and silver blood started to leak through her fingers. Stay standing. Once you're on the floor, the kicking starts, and no-one gets up from that. Stay standing. It was getting brighter too. Find the next opponent, keep going, or no-ones getting out of this alive. She wavered on her feet, and prayed that she didn't have to keep this up for long.
"CITIZENS" a voice boomed through the room. "THIS WILL BE YOUR ONLY WARNING."
For the first time something had caught the colective attention of the crowd. Rh'vuarek's gaze flicked up. he saw the shadows on the upper level.
Rh'vaurek dropped the stool and drew back to Yolanthe. He grabbed her arm with his good one. "Tharek, get the admins," he hissed, "Whatever you do hold your breath," he said, as an odd whooshing sound flew overhead "you too," he said to the Bokkai, as his hand found the knife protruding from her belly. He left his hand there over hers and opened the comm channel Chelsea had used earlier.
Tharek nodded understandingly, as he ran through the crowd to the two Starfleet officers, he grabbed them by their collars and spoke loudly, "Hold your breath, whatever you do, do not breathe!" as soon as he finished, he took in a deep breath, and looked over the crowd, who were soon to be incapacitated.
If she was not there they, like everyone else in the room was going to wake up later with one hell of a headache as the neural sedative that his people had fired into the room took hold.
"Chelsea, it's Rh'vaurek," he said as a small package thrown from above fell close to his feet.
=^= Thank the Prophets. Are you ok? =^= the concern in her voice was evident. =^= I passed on both your messages. What's happening? =^=
"We've got wounded, one serious. lock on these co-ordinates two Starfleet sigs, one Cardassian, mine and get us out of here," he transferred his own communicator to Yolanthe. The Doctor will take care of you," he said aware from the occaisional heavy, dull thud that the crowd were already beginning to succumb to the gas.
Chelsea again obeyed the Romulan's instruction without question and to the letter. Her trust in Rh'vaurek had become total despite Isha's early warnings.
Rh'vaurek's lungs were beginning to sting with the effort of not inhaling, but he waited until his companions were away before he fell to his knees and retreived the package his people had thrown to him, welcoming the taste of the air as he looped the breathing apparatus around his head.
Along with the shadow team that i-Orinwen had sent to complete the extraction, Rh'vaurek slipped away. By the time Starfleet Security got their act in order all they would find would be a former mob sleeping soundly.
OFF:
A JP between:
Lt. Cmdr. Chelsea Adams
CMO DS5
and CWO 2 Mercedes Denoublier
Administrative Officer - (NPC)
erie'Khrein Rh'vaurek Raedheol
Acting Romulan Ambassador
NPC by Louise
Yolanthe Ibalin
Owner & Bartender, The Box of Delights
Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Cardassian Ambassador
Mokab Mellibrate
Bolian Trader
And
Chief Warrant officer Bryan Surzchenko
By Mark