LtCmdr Kennin

If I were a philosophical man... Oh, heck, I'm dead; I'm allowed to be philosophical. Perhaps it would comfort you to think that there's a little bit of the Federation in each of those Scorpiads? Well, the younger ones, anyway. And you'd better take good care of my ship!!!

Speaking from experience, playing with the baby Scorps in NOT fun!

A few hours passed. Hours felt like days, and the room grew cold and lonesome. Finally the visage of the ghoulish woman reappeared, flanked by two hideous looking men who appeared like something out of fantasy. Their flesh was brown as the ground, and their hair was long and matted. They smelled of death. "Your fate has been decided." Kennin lifted his head from the blood-warm floor. It felt twice its normal size, and ten times the weight. Squinting, he peered up at the trio. "Take him." The two orcish men gathered Kennin by the arms and stood him. Their hands were coarse and hard, and their grasp was strong. They dragged him towards the door and the spectre of the female. "I had hoped my masters would not make your death... too painful. I never was one for torturing the labpets," she said almost sympathetically as she led them down the corridors. He lay in their grasp, limp and unresisting. Some part of him knew he should fight, but when he tried to form a fist, his knee twitched instead. "What... was that, before... then?" he forced out, needing to do something. At last they came to a wall. The wall quaked and formed a door, opening into a large room. Dark and restless, an overwhelming feeling of dread pervaded the room as the thugs dropped Kennin onto the floor. "May whatever deity you pray to grant your soul freedom." She disappeared with the thugs into darkness. Kennin lay quietly, breathing, listening. His eyes were fastened on the hand he could not see in the encompassing darkness, willing the muscles to flex, contract, obey. One fingertip brushed jerkily over the icy floor. Click. Click. Clack. Click. All around him, noises stirred in the darkness. Clickity. Click. Clack. Movement, the shapeless forms clicked in the dark. Encircling him. Click. Click. He peered into the darkness, though it was futile. Only the soft clicks came back to him; the wall of black was impenetrable. And suddenly. There were eyes here. Hundreds of them, rushing towards him. Eager and hungry eyes and mouths. The baby Scorplings descended upon their prey. In the darkness, a chilling alien laugh hissed between the screams. This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but a click.

The wall moved again. The eerily pale woman reappeared, looking more devilish than before. Once more she seemed half surprised her captive lived. "Have you considered my offer?" "Throw in the keys to a new shuttlecraft, and you might have a deal," Kennin murmured hazily, not opening his eyes. The arcane expression seemed lost on her. "I'll take that as a no." She produced a small remote like device and tapped it once. The restraints recoiled into the wall and Kennin fell harshly upon the hard, fleshy surface of the floor. Struggling to gather his limbs beneath him, Kennin uttered one soft, profound, "Ow." "Stand," she commanded. "Yeah, that's happening," he muttered, testing his weight on his elbows. The room didn't spin when he lifted his head. He figured that was a positive sign. She grabbed him by the uniform and pulled him to his feet, looking directly into his eyes. "I will give you one last chance...one last chance to capitulate before you find what the meaning of true pain is..." He looked up at her foggily. "We haven't gotten to the true pain yet?" A smile crossed her face. "You have only begun to feel pain." "No, I've been feeling it for a while," he replied, putting his hands out to try and steady himself on his feet. "Can't say as I'm fond of it, either..." "What, this?” She placed her hand into the wound. "You think that is painful?" Stars went nova in his vision. The room turned a fuzzy grey at the edges, and he could hear the blood pumping in his ears. His fingers clutched convulsively at her arms. "Yea -- yeah, that'd..." Devious pleasure oozed from her smile as she pressed her fingertips into the wound, and the same pain he'd felt before amplified. His head dropped forward slackly, consciousness fled. She released. Pathetic. She let him fall to the floor, and produced a small vial of clear liquid. Kneeling she applied it to his skin and it soaked in, eliminating the toxins coursing though his blood. Sometime later, Kennin stirred, the wound in his abdomen had been sealed, though a great deal of pain remained. The pale female stood a few feet from him, grinning evilly. He flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, trying to make his eyes focus. "I was hoping you were just a dream." "Unfortunately for you... I am all too real." "I suppose your people don't know the one about flies and honey, huh?” It was nice on the floor, he decided. Nothing spun or flashed or popped or changed colors. Another expression almost lost on her. "You're alive aren't you?" "Lemme get back to you on that one." "Where are you from, Tom....?" "Missouri," he murmured, watching the light shifting on the ceiling, "'fore I moved to Calaveras County t'get 'way from m'aunt Polly..." "Missouri..." She seemed unconvinced. "And what Quadrant is that in?" "Quadrant?” His voice strengthened just a touch as he began to pull his scattered focus back. "This one." She sighed reluctantly. "You are not from this Quadrant...we know this...so tell us something we don't know." "All right," Kennin said gamely, "If you mix mints and soda, you can make a really great volcano for the school science fair." Once more she sighed. "I did not want to have to do this..." "Science is so under-appreciated," he muttered, trying to get purchase on the floor before she could approach him. She pressed a button on the remote; Kennin found himself literally strung in mid-air as tendrils from the ceiling grabbed his arms and legs and pulled him up, while tendrils anchored to the floor pulled him down. Kennin struggled for a moment, then relaxed into the tendrils. "If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask." "We did ask you. And all you've done is yammer. Now... the time for games has come and gone. Now I will extract the information from you whether you want to give it to me... or not." "I think 'not' is a fairly good bet.” Some part of his mind wondered why he couldn't just shut up. He chalked it up to too much recent exposure to the more arrogant side of the Fleet. "How prideful and arrogant of you," she smirked. "You don't think I have heard this from a thousand people across thousands of worlds." "You really get around. Recommend a good vacation spot? I'm thinking sun, sand... no tentacles..." A smile crossed her face. "You see we have ways of gathering information from you...whether you want to provide or not." "Yeah, you said that already." Shut up, he told himself firmly. He didn't listen. She pressed another button, and spiking tendrils rose from the floor and buried themselves into Kennin’s spine. "Now...where were we..." He cried out at the pain of the intrusion, and clamped his jaw shut on any further sounds. Once again he focused on his breath, hoping to banish the nightmare vision of the red-eyed ghoul and the shadowy horror chamber. "Oh yes," she said vivaciously. "Where is your puny ape race from?" "Ape race?" Kennin mused aloud, closing his eyes on her eager face. "Apes -- 'Then join our leaping lines that scumfish through the pines, That rocket by where, light and high, the wild-grape swings...'" A low hissed escaped her lips; she tapped a button. Kennin felt pulses of energy leaping through his body from the tendrils. The fragment of verse dissolved as the pain struck. He screamed, drew breath, and screamed again. "Answer the question," demanded the woman as he writhed with the pain. "Correctly," she added. "Qu- question?” He couldn't hold the thought. Every nerve in his body was on fire; he was certain he could trace them all by the electric path they sizzled through his flesh. Her thin, wispy eyebrows lifted, and the pain stopped for the moment. "What is the name of your homeworld, and where is it located." "Hom... Ah!” His body shook with spasms. "Ear -- Earth!" he sobbed out. "Earth," she repeated, grinning widely. "And how do we get to this... Earth?" Changing her posture, her long lanky proportions seemed some how more frightening now -- now that she accomplished her goal. She circled the strung up Kennin, tapping something onto a small device. Weeping softly, Kennin clung to the tendrils that bound him, feeling as though the marrow had cooked from his bones. "Down the rabbit-hole," he whispered, tears streaming freely. "I'm late, I'm late, I'm late... off with her head." The Rabbit Hole? She again looked perplexed by the non sequitur. For a few moments she studied him, debating her next move. She'd broken him, and if he didn't say anything of use now...he was likely past the point of usefulness. He had one last chance. "I ask you one more time...how do we get to Earth?" "Away, away," he crooned softly, eyes shut and a small smile beginning to drift across his features. "Hole in the stars..." "In death's kingdom, Waking alone at the hour when he is left trembling with fear," she paused moving her hand over his body, and leaned down very close to his ears. "Lips that would kiss should form prayers to broken stone." His lips moved soundlessly for a moment, repeating her words. "... There are no eyes here..." he breathed. She disappeared once more, and Kennin fell to the organic floor. Silence filled the room.

Kennin found himself hanging against a spongy black-grey wall with organic tentacles holding him to the wall, which resembled the hull of the alien ship. The humidity on the ship was high, and the only lighting was a low glow from the ceiling. The wall in front of Kennin seemed to shake as a door took form. Shortly, a tall, pale figure emerged. She had nearly white skin, with tribal tattoos along her face, and deep red inset eyes. She seemed almost surprised that Kennin breathed. "You are hardier than we expected," she said with a raspy, almost reptilian voice as the door disappeared behind her. Kennin took a deep breath and coughed as a sharp pain shot through his lungs. "Gee, thanks," he choked out. Dressed in what appeared to be a long leather costume, she smiled. Her fingers were tipped with some sort of devices. "What is your designation... or does your primitive species simply use scent to discern which of you is which?” "Funny," Kennin said, trying to catch his breath. "You don't look Borg... though you're pale enough for it." Her eyes narrowed and she drew back at that mention. "Are you their allies?" "What will you give me if I tell you, red-eyes?” Oh, yes, my friend, he thought to himself, you have definitely been spending far too much time with Corizon... At least it took his mind off the burning numbness creeping into his limbs. Hissing, she approached him. "By the time I am done with you," she said with a certain wildness in her eyes, "You will tell me everything I want to know." "Now," she continued. "What is your designation?" "Well, some people call me bookish... but my friends call me Tom..." He paused to suck in a heavy breath. "... and I know one fur-faced guy who calls me pain in the butt." She was unamused. "Tom. What a simple name, how pathetic." He laughed a little, listening to the bubbling sound of it with no small amount of trepidation. "Why, what's yours, bright eyes?" "Your primitive vocal chords can not pronounce it, so why bother?" She approached him, examining him visually. "We have encountered your race twice now. And only twice. You are not from this Quadrant, are you?" "Ah, now..." Kennin let his head fall back against the wall, conserving his strength. "Now, why would you think a thing like that? 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio...'" "Fool. Our Empire has stood for 700,000 Years. When your race was no doubt sniffing about in the brush, the Scorpiad Empire was dominating the Quadrant. If you were from this Quadrant... we would know..." "Haven't been around much lately, have you?” He smiled, his eyes falling shut. "That's the way it goes, you know... Turn your backs for a moment and the neighborhood just goes all to hell..." She placed her fingers upon his chest, and Kennin suddenly felt a great pain, as if his life force were being drawn from him. Gasping, Kennin forced the words from a throat that felt scored with razors. "Well... you sure know how... to show a guy a good time..." "Now...where are your people from, and why are you allied with the Changelings?" "Sec-- second star to the right..." He had to stop to cough again. " -- straight on 'til morning." Rage lit her red eyes and her hand went back to his chest. "You will find I am not amused easily." Keeping her hand pressed against his chest, she leaned into his ear. "Where are you from? And why are you allied with the Changelings?" Kennin bit down on a scream, copper tang flooding over his tongue as he drew blood. He shook his head, eyes clenched tightly shut but tears leaking to spill down his cheeks all the same. Releasing him once more, she huffed angrily before calming herself and withdrawing a few more feet. She didn't want to kill him yet; of course, the wound in his stomach was likely fatal anyway. He hung in the chains and focused on breathing. One breath in, one out. As long as they were in equal ratio, all was well. Like a warp core reaction -- always one to one. "I'll leave you to consider my question," she finally said. "If you tell us what we want to know... we will make your death quick... and painless. But if you do not... you will suffer until the last." She disappeared through the wall once more.

I made reference to this one before a sim recently, so I suppose it's only fair to offer it. "What If Dr. Seuss Wrote for Star Trek: TNG" Picard: Sigma Indri, that's the star, So, Data, please, how far? How far? Data: Our ship can get there very fast But still the trip will last and last We'll have two days til we arrive But can the Indrans there survive? Picard: LaForge, please give us factor nine. LaForge: But, sir, the engines are offline! Picard: Offline! But why? I want to go! Please make it so, please make it so! Read the rest here, it's rather lengthy: http://www.seuss.org/seuss/seuss.sttng.html

Bio: Lt Cmdr Thomas Kennin Race: Human Age: 34 Hair: Sandy Brown Eyes: Grey Kennin was born in Italy, on Earth. From an early age he demonstrated mechanical aptitude, constructing hundreds of starship models and tinkering with a variety of devices. On one memorable occasion he disassembled the family replicator but was unable to reassemble it. Needless to say, his parents were distinctly unamused. They decided it would be best to channel his curiousity away from household appliances, and enrolled him in an extra-curricular "Young Engineers" program, which met twice a week. Subsequently, Thomas was able to confine his explorations to devices already destined from recycling. At sixteen Kennin entered an Academy preparatory program, which enabled him to pass the exams the first time, and he enrolled in Starfleet Academy at eighteen. There was no question that he would enter the engineering track; in fact, he focused on his engineering courses to the detriment of his general requirements, one of which he nearly failed when he forgot to attend the final exam. (A project he had been working on for another course had developed interesting complications the night before.) After graduation, he served on a variety of ships and stations. He was considered a good, solid engineer with a knack for pinpointing the source of problems quickly, but was easily distracted and thus hardly seemed destined for the Miracle Workers company. Then, in his second year as a Lieutenant, he designed a new sensor system for his ship, the USS Havana, after hers was destroyed in a firefight weeks out from the nearest starbase. The system was so effective that by the time the Havana had reached that base, new orders for Kennin were cut and he was on his way back to Sol to join the Utopia design team. Not long thereafter, he joined the Morningstar project, where he quickly developed a rapport with the lead designer, Captain Alexander Skully. The two men could often be found bouncing ideas off one another at meals or in the corridors, turbolifts, offices, holodecks, construction bays, crew quarters, shuttlecraft, and elsewhere. Kennin took over as second-in-command of the project upon his promotion to Lt. Commander. The only rift that ever came between Kennin and Skully was when Kennin was selected to command the Morningstar on her field trials. Although both men had been flying desks recently, Kennin had more field experience than Skully, who had been working at Utopia much longer. Starfleet decided that they needed someone with that experience in command, and offered a choice between Kennin and someone from outside the project. Given that choice, both men agreed that their baby would be better off in Kennin's hands.