Interlude – Borg & Belligerence, Part 2
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Post Details
ON:
OLD:
Tharek put the pain to the back of his mind, and made a point to help Yolanthe now. He lunged for the drones back, turning it around and slamming down on its nose with as much force as he could give off. "You alright?"
"Had worse," She rubbed the bottom of her spine where she had been slammed down. "I'll be fine." She examined him in turn. Apart from the split lip, he seemed alright. She faded between green and blue and back to green, "I left the safety on. That shouldn't have happened." She looked round the lab, "computer, arch." The computer failed to comply.
NEW:
Yolanthe started turning peach. Having the holosuite malfunction on a VIP was just a disaster. She dug her communicator out of her pocket. "Klia, are you there?"
"Yup, what’s up."
"Holosuite seven is malfunctioning. Can you shut it down."
"No Probs." there was the sound of tapping fingers. Then Klia said. "I'll be right back."
"Klia?" Yolanthe didn't want her tech to disappear. "Be quick. The safeties are off, and I have a customer in here."
The panicked silence was palpable. "System says they're on." More tapping. "Sit tight. I'll be right in."
Yolanthe sighed and turned back to Tharek, "I'm sorry about this. It looks like we're stuck in here for a few minutes."
Tharek was still panting, and wiping small bits of blood from his face. "It's nothing to apologise for. I was going to ask if the safety could be off." He said, knowing how nervous she would be if Tharek had turned nasty about the situation. He didn't want to get angry at his favourite bartender. Where would he get his Kanar from?
___
Outside holosuite seven, Klia dropped to her knees and opened the small panel that concealed the manual door release. She couldn’t quite believe the suite was malfunctioning. She had checked every nut, bolt and sub routine when they'd been installed. She dropped the t-shaped key into the socket and was about to wrench it around when she noticed the blinking red warning light. "What are you doing on?" She brought out her diagnostics padd and connected it up to the suite. A stream of data scrolled onto it. "That's not possible." Her eyebrows knitted together as she reread the lines of codes. Then the implications hit her like a proton torpedo. "That's so not good." She jumped to her feet and raced round for the service access to the backs of the suites, hoping she wouldn't find the same problem there.
_____
Inside the Suite she gave him a surprised look. It was against every instinct she had. She should object, strenuously. But then she wasn't at home anymore and he wasn't having any real trouble with the drones... She swallowed her pride. "The customer is always right." She moved to the door that lead further into the borg ship and pushed the release, revealing the endless interior of the borg ship, "Shall we?"
Tharek flexed his shoulders, anxious to move on and beat the nanoprobes out of the Borg. "Of course."
The door revealed a long gallery that was open to reveal the vast expanse of the borg cube stretching out before them. levels upon levels of the ship could be seen stretching beyond the eye could see, both up and down, and to the far horizon. Moving along them could be made out the shapes of borg drones assimilated from a thousand worlds. It was going to be a long way to the exit.
They moved out onto the gallery. There was one way to go, ahead along the gallery to the stairs. Only a half dozen borg, between there and here, a fall to the death to the left and solid walls to the right. No safeties. Yolanthe turned to Tharek. "What do you fancy? Sneak up and hit them? Run at them screaming?"
Tharek didn't answer, he was already after them. The only thing that kept him going was his pure hatred of Isha, and his passion for violence. He charged at the drone, grabbing it by a mechanical pipe protruding from its neck and using it to fling the Borg off of the ledge. Tharek stood tall afterwards. The faces of the drones replaced by the images of Isha and all of those that have tested Tharek in the past.
Run at them screaming then, she thought, and chased after him.
The ambassador was making short work of the drones. Yolanthe had seen a lot of fights in her life, from bar-room brawls to boxing matches to free-style martial arts. and one thing was very very clear. The Cardassian ambassador was not a fighter. Not in that sense. Every movement was too economical, every blow powerful, focused on one thing. Even in the underground to-the-death pit-fights she'd gotten to see in the bowls of various star docks and space stations, the competitors there always added a little extra, a little zing, a little style to make the crowd love them, to make them howl for blood. But not the ambassador. there was no crowd pleasing in his actions, no cheap tricks or tawdry stunts. The ambassador was not a fighter, he was a killer, focused solely on the efficient destruction of the enemy. Before a few minutes were passed, the drones were dead and the path ahead was clear. She hadn't had to lift a finger.
"Do all cardassian men fight like you?" she asked
Tharek lent his neck back, and rested for a second. "Probably not. Most are not worthy of the hunters eye they were gifted with. I select only men like me for my service. Denat, Turrel and Sotar. All ruthless."
"But not as tall." She walked past him, trying to keep the smile of her face and not quite succeeding. "But then, I guess you're a hard man to measure up to."
Tharek smirked. "Literally or metaphorically?"
"I couldn't possibly comment." She led him down the stairs at the end of the gallery to the next floor. Somewhere here was the goal of the first part of the game, a room with weapons and supplies. "But after those bombs, I'm reasonably certain you you're skilled at keeping your...head... in a crisis. Ah, here we are..." She reached for the door control, hoping the room beyond hadn't been changed from what she remembered.
It had not. She breathed a sign of relief that sent her to an almost midnight purple before washing all the way back to less extreme violet.
The room itself was a tangled nest of bio-mechanical piping, with benches, and racks and cabinets all built into them in a disturbingly organic way. It was a lot emptier than when Klia had dragged her through it a year ago. As per instructions the game had taken out the beam weapons, and the projectile weapons. Last time Klia had used a cheat, and given her an effective, if messy, flechette rifle to kill borg with. No such luck.
But the really important bits were there, in a drawer. The tri-corder that would warn them of approaching borg, and the padd that gave them a crude map of where to go next. She also grab the tiny medical kit. They were going to need it. Then all she needed was a weapon. The one that caught her eye was a three foot machete, wickedly sharp. She picked it up and swung it in an experimental figure of eight. There was reassuring weight in the blade end, but not so much to over-balance it; it would cleave borg without problem. "Okay lets get out of here before they trap us." She headed for the door
Tharek didn't leave just yet. He gazed at the assortment of weapons. Some were gleaming and new. Some weren't though, some were stained with blood. Tharek picked up a dagger. It was relatively long, but short enough to be held in a single hand. He twirled it for a second, admiring the craftsmanship of the blade.
Realising he wasn't behind her, Yolanthe stopped at the doorway. The knife was a weapon that was just a bit too much up-close-and-personal than she wanted him to have, give the safeties were off, but swallowed the instinct to tell him off. Right now they needed all the advantages they were going to get, and her backwater prejudices would only get them killed. "Time enough to fiddle with your weapon later, Ambassador," she raised an eyebrow, "There's borg out there who need showing what you can do with it."
Tharek finally rested it down into his palm and smiled eerily. "I like this weapon." He said coldly, with a tone that pierced souls. "When this program is over, if you can get me a weapon like this, I'll pay good latinum." He said, still admiring it, but walking along with his eyes focused on the blade. He glared up and looked straight into the eyes of Yolanthe.
She held his gaze without flinching. Had she pushed him too far? Possibly, but she wasn't going to apologise. Besides, he was quite attractive when he was angry. She held up the tricorder so he could see the little blips of approaching borg. They were converging on the treasure room, slow but steady. "If we get out alive, I'll get you two. Lead the way, your Excellency"
TBC...
OFF
and
Yolanthe Ibalin,
Owner & Bartender, the Box of Delights
&
Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Cardassian Dictator
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Post Details
| Title | Borg & Belligerence, Part 2 | |
| Mission | Interlude | |
| Author(s) | Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Cardassian Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal | |
| Posted | Fri May 21, 2010 @ 10:02pm | |
| Location | The Box of Delights | |
| Timeline | SD18 0200 |
OLD:
Tharek put the pain to the back of his mind, and made a point to help Yolanthe now. He lunged for the drones back, turning it around and slamming down on its nose with as much force as he could give off. "You alright?"
"Had worse," She rubbed the bottom of her spine where she had been slammed down. "I'll be fine." She examined him in turn. Apart from the split lip, he seemed alright. She faded between green and blue and back to green, "I left the safety on. That shouldn't have happened." She looked round the lab, "computer, arch." The computer failed to comply.
NEW:
Yolanthe started turning peach. Having the holosuite malfunction on a VIP was just a disaster. She dug her communicator out of her pocket. "Klia, are you there?"
"Yup, what’s up."
"Holosuite seven is malfunctioning. Can you shut it down."
"No Probs." there was the sound of tapping fingers. Then Klia said. "I'll be right back."
"Klia?" Yolanthe didn't want her tech to disappear. "Be quick. The safeties are off, and I have a customer in here."
The panicked silence was palpable. "System says they're on." More tapping. "Sit tight. I'll be right in."
Yolanthe sighed and turned back to Tharek, "I'm sorry about this. It looks like we're stuck in here for a few minutes."
Tharek was still panting, and wiping small bits of blood from his face. "It's nothing to apologise for. I was going to ask if the safety could be off." He said, knowing how nervous she would be if Tharek had turned nasty about the situation. He didn't want to get angry at his favourite bartender. Where would he get his Kanar from?
___
Outside holosuite seven, Klia dropped to her knees and opened the small panel that concealed the manual door release. She couldn’t quite believe the suite was malfunctioning. She had checked every nut, bolt and sub routine when they'd been installed. She dropped the t-shaped key into the socket and was about to wrench it around when she noticed the blinking red warning light. "What are you doing on?" She brought out her diagnostics padd and connected it up to the suite. A stream of data scrolled onto it. "That's not possible." Her eyebrows knitted together as she reread the lines of codes. Then the implications hit her like a proton torpedo. "That's so not good." She jumped to her feet and raced round for the service access to the backs of the suites, hoping she wouldn't find the same problem there.
_____
Inside the Suite she gave him a surprised look. It was against every instinct she had. She should object, strenuously. But then she wasn't at home anymore and he wasn't having any real trouble with the drones... She swallowed her pride. "The customer is always right." She moved to the door that lead further into the borg ship and pushed the release, revealing the endless interior of the borg ship, "Shall we?"
Tharek flexed his shoulders, anxious to move on and beat the nanoprobes out of the Borg. "Of course."
The door revealed a long gallery that was open to reveal the vast expanse of the borg cube stretching out before them. levels upon levels of the ship could be seen stretching beyond the eye could see, both up and down, and to the far horizon. Moving along them could be made out the shapes of borg drones assimilated from a thousand worlds. It was going to be a long way to the exit.
They moved out onto the gallery. There was one way to go, ahead along the gallery to the stairs. Only a half dozen borg, between there and here, a fall to the death to the left and solid walls to the right. No safeties. Yolanthe turned to Tharek. "What do you fancy? Sneak up and hit them? Run at them screaming?"
Tharek didn't answer, he was already after them. The only thing that kept him going was his pure hatred of Isha, and his passion for violence. He charged at the drone, grabbing it by a mechanical pipe protruding from its neck and using it to fling the Borg off of the ledge. Tharek stood tall afterwards. The faces of the drones replaced by the images of Isha and all of those that have tested Tharek in the past.
Run at them screaming then, she thought, and chased after him.
The ambassador was making short work of the drones. Yolanthe had seen a lot of fights in her life, from bar-room brawls to boxing matches to free-style martial arts. and one thing was very very clear. The Cardassian ambassador was not a fighter. Not in that sense. Every movement was too economical, every blow powerful, focused on one thing. Even in the underground to-the-death pit-fights she'd gotten to see in the bowls of various star docks and space stations, the competitors there always added a little extra, a little zing, a little style to make the crowd love them, to make them howl for blood. But not the ambassador. there was no crowd pleasing in his actions, no cheap tricks or tawdry stunts. The ambassador was not a fighter, he was a killer, focused solely on the efficient destruction of the enemy. Before a few minutes were passed, the drones were dead and the path ahead was clear. She hadn't had to lift a finger.
"Do all cardassian men fight like you?" she asked
Tharek lent his neck back, and rested for a second. "Probably not. Most are not worthy of the hunters eye they were gifted with. I select only men like me for my service. Denat, Turrel and Sotar. All ruthless."
"But not as tall." She walked past him, trying to keep the smile of her face and not quite succeeding. "But then, I guess you're a hard man to measure up to."
Tharek smirked. "Literally or metaphorically?"
"I couldn't possibly comment." She led him down the stairs at the end of the gallery to the next floor. Somewhere here was the goal of the first part of the game, a room with weapons and supplies. "But after those bombs, I'm reasonably certain you you're skilled at keeping your...head... in a crisis. Ah, here we are..." She reached for the door control, hoping the room beyond hadn't been changed from what she remembered.
It had not. She breathed a sign of relief that sent her to an almost midnight purple before washing all the way back to less extreme violet.
The room itself was a tangled nest of bio-mechanical piping, with benches, and racks and cabinets all built into them in a disturbingly organic way. It was a lot emptier than when Klia had dragged her through it a year ago. As per instructions the game had taken out the beam weapons, and the projectile weapons. Last time Klia had used a cheat, and given her an effective, if messy, flechette rifle to kill borg with. No such luck.
But the really important bits were there, in a drawer. The tri-corder that would warn them of approaching borg, and the padd that gave them a crude map of where to go next. She also grab the tiny medical kit. They were going to need it. Then all she needed was a weapon. The one that caught her eye was a three foot machete, wickedly sharp. She picked it up and swung it in an experimental figure of eight. There was reassuring weight in the blade end, but not so much to over-balance it; it would cleave borg without problem. "Okay lets get out of here before they trap us." She headed for the door
Tharek didn't leave just yet. He gazed at the assortment of weapons. Some were gleaming and new. Some weren't though, some were stained with blood. Tharek picked up a dagger. It was relatively long, but short enough to be held in a single hand. He twirled it for a second, admiring the craftsmanship of the blade.
Realising he wasn't behind her, Yolanthe stopped at the doorway. The knife was a weapon that was just a bit too much up-close-and-personal than she wanted him to have, give the safeties were off, but swallowed the instinct to tell him off. Right now they needed all the advantages they were going to get, and her backwater prejudices would only get them killed. "Time enough to fiddle with your weapon later, Ambassador," she raised an eyebrow, "There's borg out there who need showing what you can do with it."
Tharek finally rested it down into his palm and smiled eerily. "I like this weapon." He said coldly, with a tone that pierced souls. "When this program is over, if you can get me a weapon like this, I'll pay good latinum." He said, still admiring it, but walking along with his eyes focused on the blade. He glared up and looked straight into the eyes of Yolanthe.
She held his gaze without flinching. Had she pushed him too far? Possibly, but she wasn't going to apologise. Besides, he was quite attractive when he was angry. She held up the tricorder so he could see the little blips of approaching borg. They were converging on the treasure room, slow but steady. "If we get out alive, I'll get you two. Lead the way, your Excellency"
TBC...
OFF
and
Yolanthe Ibalin,
Owner & Bartender, the Box of Delights
&
Vi'kar Gul Tharek Getal
Cardassian Dictator