Flynt
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I'm just here for the donuts.
Posts: 222
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Post by Flynt on Sept 9, 2015 4:41:58 GMT
Lieutenant Commander Xiolani Personal Log Stardate 91686.98
It's my fifth day of consciousness, the first that I've been awake more than a few minutes at a time. The first with any semblance of a voice. The first chance since the defense of Starbase 234 that I've had to make sense of ... anything.
The doctor suggested that I try to to piece together my memories. It has been difficult.
The USS Lasseter wasn't in the fight for long. Our job was to run interference for evac shuttles. Give them a blind to reach one of the cruisers or get to warp. We made two runs, scattering enemy sensors best we could. Didn't get them all I guess.
The first shot sheared off our port stabilizer wing and punctured the nacelle. Flung us all across the bridge. How Iztril got us to the perimeter, I'll never know. Then again, I guess he didn't since the next wave literally jumped on top of us.
An Iconian cruiser pummeled us with two shuttles, redirecting them from their incoming shockwave. Both must have hit our tail section from the way we went flying after.
I vaguely remember thinking about general order 14. I have no idea if I actually said it. I was bleeding. I was in someone else's flesh. Iztril's.
I couldn't move. Then the transporter beam. I let go of consciousness, thinking I was safer where I was going then where I was.
And then here. End log.
***
Xiolani put down the PADD and lay back down on her biobed.
"That was a very interesting story, Lieutenant Commander. You left out a few details this time, and the transporter was an interesting new twist. Let's try again tomorrow, shall we? More convincing next time."
Xiolani reached up and gripped her temples, which were suddenly inflamed in pain. Trying to build the walls one more time, hoping she would succeed.
Everything went black.
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Flynt
Member
I'm just here for the donuts.
Posts: 222
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Post by Flynt on Sept 18, 2015 2:16:42 GMT
"Hello Commander."
"Zam Iztril? How? Where are we?"
"We're dead. This is the veil."
Xiolani looked at her late conn officer, or rather what she could perceive of his essence, and tried to convey her confusion. "I don't understand."
"Well, at least for my people, and a few others, this is sort of the first stop to the afterlife."
"Then how am I here? And so many of our shipmates?"
Iztril's essence paused, then emanated the etherial equivalent of a shrug. "Maybe the universe doesn't care what you believe, just that you do, and so we all get the same waiting room but have different doors to move onward. At any rate, there's probably a waiting area for whatever next life your beliefs dictate. Like over there."
She looked towards the commotion, noticing two rapidly growing groups of Klingons, though one group was clearly larger than the other.
"Ah, Klingons going to Sto'vo'kor or Gre'thor. There must have been a large battle recently." She turned back to Iztril and noticed him moving away. "Zam?"
"Found it! Good luck!"
"Wait? Do you see any..." He was gone.
Puzzled, sad, and a bit frightened, Xiolani stood alone, looking for a sign of where to go. She moved about the area for a while--it was hard to sense for how long, as both time and space had no meaning where she was. Eventually, she noticed, or rather sensed, a pair of Vulcans enter the domain. Feeling a sudden compulsion, she followed them.
However, she did not attempt to speak to them. She merely followed behind. It almost passed subconsciously that this was how she acted when she lived on Vulcan: always deferring to her hosts, or her teachers, or her peers.
"You know you don't really belong there, don't you?" sounded an echoing, androgynous voice.
"Why not? I was raised among Vulcans. It's logical that their belief system should..."
"Your katra is not the same as theirs. It's no more welcome among them in death, any more than it was when you were alive."
"If not with Vulcans, then with whom?"
"There is only one destination for your kind," taunted the voice, which began to take form and beckoned Xiolani to come closer. As she approached, a vast mountain appeared before her. At its base, a cave entrance, glowing with a fiery aura. "Do you recognize it, child?"
Xiolani paused, looking to both the figure and the doorway. Though she was born after the destruction of Romulus and Remus, and little was ever said of the beliefs of the Romulans, she nodded in comprehension. "Erebus," came her monotoned response.
At this, the figure coalesced further into the impression of a Romulan officer. "Yes, eternal home of damned Romulans and all Remans. A pity that one who's had an honorable and valiant career should be relegated to the pit with all the slaves."
A feeling like fire rose inside her, and she snapped back at the Romulan. "I'm surprised that you should even care. With a few exceptions, Romulans seem to hardly give my people a thought."
"If only you had served the Empire, a career such as yours would merit entry to the Halls of Erebus."
"I doubt that, but why taunt me if this is my fate. Allow me to enter."
She attempted to move, but was held fast by an unseen force. "Perhaps it's not your fate. Yet. Consider, Xiolani."
"Consider what? If I am dead, there's no reason to consider anything further."
"Are you dead?"
Xiolani started to respond when the burning sensation increased, building from her temples to her teeth and to her spine. In moments, she screamed in agony as the visions faded back to the sterile grid of the Romulan holodeck.
The Romulan standing at the console smiled and nodded. "No, death isn't appropriate for you, yet."
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Flynt
Member
I'm just here for the donuts.
Posts: 222
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Post by Flynt on Sept 29, 2015 3:32:53 GMT
The cell was ridiculously bright. Like Sol bearing down on Luna, it offered no warmth, but blinded all the same. Yet somehow, Xiolani managed to sleep a few hours. Once in a while. Maybe every other day or so.
In fact, she had lost track of time, as her captors had done little more than pass a tray of rations through the food slot at odd intervals. She wasn't sure if it had been days or weeks since her last indoctrination session, since the room was always bright.
She had been asleep when a rumbling awoke her. She resisted the urge to open her eyes. There was nothing to see, after all, just the blinding...
No light. This is new. She opened her eyes fully and took in the dark. Except it wasn't fully dark. There. In the corner. A dim orange glow, slowly expanding the length and height of the wall. Curious for the first time in a while, she got to her feet and started toward the wall. Then stopped just as quickly.
Heat. As intense as mid-afternoon on Vulcan's Forge. She edged back to the other side of her cell, simultaneously impressed and angered at her captors' latest mode of torture. She cast a silent curse toward them, as she clung to the farthest wall.
"Scream not at me, Reman."
The voice rang in her head, like the ringing of chimes.
"You waste your effort. Your mind torture affects me no more than the environment of your cage." The ringing was discordant, and the effect evoked the sensation of colors spread by light through raindrops.
"I am not your torturer, Tholian. I am a prisoner, like yourself."
"A ruse to gain my trust. A common ploy for organics."
"It is no ruse. I am Lieutenant Commander Xiolani, Starfleet, of the USS Lasseter."
This time, no response. Xiolani reached out for an indication. She felt the chaos of confusion. She decided to share more. "I have been held here for some time. Since the start of the Iconian War."
"Pyriskene, of the Fourth Order. I was captured on Dewa III several cycles after the Iconian attack."
Xiolani smiled, albeit grimly, for the first time in recent memory. "Pyriskene, do you know where we are?"
Pyriskene hesitated before replying in dark, red tones. "We are on Dewa III. Tell me, Xiolani. What did a Reman Starfleet officer do to earn torture from the Republic?"
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