OdileCondacin

Thanks, Colonel! B)

Odile sauntered into her new office, taking a seat as she frowned at the gouges she'd made in Kroells... in her desk. She supposed there was some moral lesson to be learned -- don't destroy something if you might inherit it later. She'd mark that down for the next time. Engaging the computer interface, she smiled, lacing fingers together as she stretched her arms out in front of her, cracking the knuckles. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all. Manage reports, make the occasional appearance on the Bridge (and she could even bring her knitting supplies!), and see that the ghosty didn't wreak too much havoc. Then she saw the huge supply of incoming paperwork. She took one look at the paperwork. Opening a 'new' communique, she penned a quick, to-the-point resignation message to Harper. It did vaguely cross her mind that if she resigned, she could be abandoned and left out in the Perseus Arm to rot, but at the same time... She glanced at the overflowing inbox, becoming more resolute in her decision as she pressed 'send'. Unfortunately for her, Medusa was staring down the barrel of her own paperwork, and was none-too-sympathetic. She returned the note with a penned comment below: "Nice. Try." That settled that. A rather resigned Xenexian penned another concise (and sarcastic) note to Medusa asking her to please disregard, wishing her a nice day, and giving up on such future attempts. It seemed she was stuck exactly where the jellyfish wanted her. A shame how it turned out that way. But so went the life of one of Harper's Hapless Minions.

Odile fairly stalked into Harper's Ready Room, having a sinking feeling in the back of her mind what this was going to be about. Her arms crossed, she drummed the fingers of her right hand against her the upper part of her left arm, an eyebrow arched. Of course she didn't bother with a door chime -- her dear Medusa had invited her up, hadn't she? And, as with a vampire, once an invitation was offered to Odile, she considered it her right to make use of it when it pleased her. She fired off a snappy salute, her casual posture a sharp contrast to the military gesture. "You needed me, Sir?" Long accustomed to the Xenexian's antics, Harper merely finished setting up the framed photo on the side table, completing the transfer of her possessions from the XO's office to the Ready Room. "I did indeed, Petty Officer Condacin," she replied serenely. "Looks nice in here. Home-y. You have a knack for decor, I do believe," she complimented. "Remind me to drop you by a few little trinkets. A few Xenexian frivolities, to make you think of me when you see them." Odile smirked. "I doubt that will be necessary," Harper said. She settled comfortably on the sofa, stretching her arms out along its back, and motioned for Condacin to take the seat across from her. "I expect I'll be seeing quite a bit of you in future; I won't need any further reminders." Folding her hands demurely in her lap, she cast a quizzical glance at the Marine. "Oh? Have you finally come to your senses and realized how good for your reflexes a Xenexian sparring partner would be?" "If only it were something so potentially amusing as dumping you on your backside repeatedly." Her tone perfectly mimicked the Xenexian's usual flamboyant style. "No, I'm afraid it's far less entertaining for me. But I'm sure you'll enjoy it." Now Odile's interest was starting to get piqued. "You think so?" she asked, sarcastically. "What, pray tell, would 'it' be?" Did she want to know? Actually, Harper expected she would enjoy this far more than she let on. The next few minutes, especially, were bound to be entertaining. "Well, of course you're aware how troubled the Science department has been lately." "I blame it on you. You put a bloody ghost in there, you have a nutcase running the show, and little kids are being bumped up from the Gamma shift to fill in the blanks. I used to think I was the main source of insanity." "Precisely." She smiled, shifting forward to adopt a conspiratorial posture. She also cast a quick eye over the other woman, looking for weapons -- with Odile, one never knew -- as she had no desire to get another look at sickbay so soon. "It's time some of that was straightened out." "Oh, you think? Calling in Ghostbusters? Or putting the rest of us in straightjackets?" "Making you the department head." Harper enjoyed watching the reaction to that one. She'd been right: it was as entertaining as anything she'd seen in the past month or so. Her only regret was not having a holocamera on hand. Odile was about to fire off a witty retort to whatever was about to escape Harper's lips, but... She stared at her, mouth opening and closing like a small guppy, eyes widened. The inital look of shock fading to one of absolute horror, she shook her head a few times. "You wouldn't." Harper retrieved two padds from the table beside the potted plant. "I already have." She passed the first padd over to Condacin. "Here's the orders confirming you as senior member of the science department." She waited until Odile had taken it numbly from her hand, then passed over the second. "And here is your field promotion to the rank of lieutenant." "I'm an enlistee," she mumbled. "Not anymore." Harper smiled, though there was an edging of smirk to it. Seizing Condacin's hand, she pumped it heartily. "Congratulations, Lieutenant." She wasn't going to get away with this for much longer, she knew. In fact, she estimated the shock would wear off in three... two... one... "No thank you. I don't want to deal with that madhouse!" She detached her hand from the tentacle, shaking it as if it might have been tainted with venom. "Well, it's all yours now, whether you like it or not." "You're an evil woman, Harper." She paused a few moments in consideration. "You know, despite how many people discuss that alternate universe and how outstandingly superb it must be... I don't think I'd ever want to meet your mirror twin. Judging by those theories, she'd be a nice lady who was kind to her scientists. And that would send me completely off my rocker." Charlie laughed, throwing her head back in full-throated mirth. "You'll be fine," she told Odile, still chuckling a bit. Then she sobered. "O'd'yl, you're easily the most senior member of the department. I could have given it to an officer, and I rather expect someone at Fleet will ask about that when we get home, but I'd rather see it run by someone who's proven herself than one of those 'little kids from Gamma shift' you mentioned earlier." You're right; you're right," she acquiesced begrudgingly. "But you know my reputation. And exactly how much patience I have..." "Hey, now," Harper said, "this is me, O'd'yl. The 'big, bad, nasty Xenexian' routine hasn't worked on me in years. "I know what you're really like under that chip on your shoulder." The big, bad, nasty Xenexian gave her a narrow-eyed look. "And that would be?" She chuckled. "I'd say you're a softie, but you'd probably try to stab me to prove different." Favoring Odile with a broad wink, she continued, "You're far nicer to the kids than to anyone else, and you have a tendency to take in strays and misfits." Odile harumphed at that, mumbling something guttural and incomprehensible. "And here I thought I was being discreet." "Two years on Kyushu, and how many times did you not have some Middie trailing along in your shadow? And besides," she added, shooting Odile a wryly fond look, "how many blueshirts wander into a bunch of Marines and make friends?" "One that I can think of." She smirked. "Part of that's just having a knife. You sharks respect me more." She paused, a positive outcome of this disaster coming to mind. "Does this mean I can un-peacetie my blade, then?" "No, Harper replied immediately. "I won't use it!" Harper gave her a clear "tell me another one" look. "Do I get a new desk in my office?" "You ruined the old one... you talk Engineering into allocating you the replicator time." Leaning back against the couch, Harper grinned at Condacin, giving no ground. "Spotty doesn't like me, his little Romulan girl can't stand me, and I don't know the others." The scientist huffed. "So that's a 'no'. Her tone turned serious. "As for Operations, I'd like to rotate that through the department, with your blessing." "Fine idea," the colonel approved. "Toughen up some of the little kids." "And keep me far from it." She shuddered. "Operations has to be the most exasperating post. You're a combination hotel receptionist, phone operator, and rationing officer." That sparked another bout of laughter. When she caught her breath, Harper said, "I think you'd look positively adorable in one of those old hotel uniforms, in the scarlet and gold... with the buttons and the little hat..." Fingers twitched around the hilt of her dagger. "I think I would rather die at the hands of a Danteri." "Clearly you're getting over the shock, if you're resorting to that old chestnut again." "I'm clearly not. Merely in denial." She glared at Harper. "If they're insubordinate, they're spending days in the Brig. I warn you now so you don't come back later whining and sniveling that I'm being too strict. And that includes the ghost." The mental image of the sheet-with-eyes-cut-out behind bars apparently amused her, for a small smirk crossed her face. "You put the ghost in the brig," Harper said dryly, "and you get to be the one figuring how how to keep him there. Other than that... Leave me any more short-handed even once, and you can join them." O'd'yl harumphed again. "In that case, I want my knife unpeacetied. No more demands if I get my way on that one." Harper sighed theatrically. "I let you get away with murder, you know that, Sin?" "No," her tone suddenly lacking any trace of humor, extremely serious, "there's only been one person that's allowed that." Sobering, Harper watched Condacin for a long, silent minute. "Oh, all right. Get the sidearm-carry forms from Security, though. And yes, you will have to attend the annual refresher courses that go with it, even if you're not carrying a phaser." "I'll find a way out of them." She smirked, assuming a high-pitched, mocking voice. "Now remember, boys and girls, this button vaporizes. This one stuns. Don't confuse the two. And be careful when you shoot people! You can hurt someone!" "O'd'yl," Harper growled warningly. "Very well." Odile rose stiffly. "I can't offer tidings of gratitude, Charlie. But I will do what you require." "And do it well, I don't doubt," Harper replied. "Here." She reached for a small, flat case, and flipped it towards Condacin. "Congratulations and condolences, Lieutenant." Reaching for the pip, she carefully attached it to her neck, removing the enlistee's designation to leave on Harper's desk. "I'll remember who's responsible for this at the first complaint." "I'm sure you can handle a little grumbling all by yourself, Lieutenant." "Yes, Ma'am." She huffed. "This means I answer directly to a shark now, doesn't it?" Harper grinning, showing teeth. "Two sharks, in fact." A thought came to mind, and O'd'yl grinned savagely. "Actually... we're both wrong. One shark..." the scientist innocently smiled, "... and one jellyfish. Good luck with your new department head." Odile started towards the door, not waiting for dismissal. Shaking her head, Harper let her go. In war, command, and dealings with prickly Xenexians, you had to pick your battles.

Welcome back.

++++++++++++++++++++ Data Destination: Tactical Console System: Internal Comm Lines ... is everyone on the ship noticing? ... and would you actually wear it? I'd pay to see that. Will get right to work on that request. Love, Your favorite evil Xenexian warrior woman. Remember, the dagger is sharp. ++++++++++++++++++++++

Happy birthday to the one person I know on Agincourt who has the proper respect for daggers! B)

LOL. "When Vulcans go bad." ((For all of you Challenged ones out there.))

You expect me to wish... Kroells... a happy birthday? ::snickers:: Happy birthday, Travis!

It was a long time coming. Of that, the Xenexian had no doubt. She almost felt bad, in a way -- since, without question, two distinct postings with a Xenexian Warrior Woman -- one in command of said Xenexian Warrior Woman -- was enough to send any invertebrate off the deep end. Poor Jellyfish. She truly had turned into the evil Queen of Hearts (yes, O'd'yl had taken a look at the databank's entry on Alice in Wonderland). "Off with his head! Off with her head!" She looked around for pink birds and Erinaceinae, and... well, they already had an insane, smiling cat. Literary analogies aside, Odile felt bad for her friend. As much as she liked to take credit for her swift demise, it was indeed a nasty twist of fate that landed her in the Brig. hardly Charlie's fault. Though, it was a little disconcerting to see the hidden, paranoid side of Harper. Gods... to think about what her own reaction to a disease, or affliction, like this would have been. Most likely she would have made the Colonel look like a bleating little lamb. Can we say 'peaceties be damned'? Though, with a good portion of crew off and gone, even though it would have been eventually amusing to see the aftermath of her own insanity, it was a good thing she was immune. They needed one corporeal 'seeker' that wasn't going off half-cocked, after all. Not for the first time, she-formerly-of-Condacin thought of the superiorities the Xenexians possessed. Less patience with annoying underlings? Check. Less patience with annoying superiors? Check. Scary knives? Check. Colorful eyes? Check. Less susceptibility to pathogens? Check. But while the Fleet still lacked Xenexian-only vessels, she'd have to work to make up for the humans' shortcomings. With a grunt of jesting begrudgement, she pulled up a few scans of the afflictees' physiological changes. Little gods. How she truly did deserve praise for being one of few Xenexians who'd managed to put up with humans for any considerable length of time. She was special.

We have such an interesting new plotline going now! And exasperating -- only from a character's perspective. ::grin:: I think Odile is just about ready to smack our self-righteous guest. But then again, who can blame her? There's only so much patience to go around, even if she's a silly goost from the 21st Century. I keep being reminded of Khan and his followers, though I doubt she's a genetic superwoman. But between what Shadow said and a gut feeling, does anyone else think her motives are less than honorable?

((Jamie's player asked me to send this for him -- please give him his credit. :D )) "Requiem" The cool dusk climate was failing. The deep red/orange star that was the life force of this system was slowly etching into the horizon. While this seemingly Risa like resort planet lay much closer to its star then Earth, the star was a cooled red giant. In the dusky morning reflection from the ocean it almost appeared a deep rich fuschia. It was the closest thing to perfection Jamie could imagine. He wondered if he'd ever seen anything more beautiful. He'd looked at pictures of some well known places on the human side of the galaxy. Various home world of deferent species of the alpha quadrant. They were all impressive in their own right, but this place, the serenity behind it was something Jamie doubted he could ever top again. Maybe it was just because it was the first thing he'd seen outside of a black, star littered void, but it was amazing none the less. Kairi was still asleep in the hotel nearby. Sleep had eluded the young lieutenant however. He took the insomnia as an excuse to roam the fishing village nearby with out so many...tourists present. Here in the first breakings of daylight was the true sights of the planet. Merchants setting up stands for another day of peddling trinkets and souvenirs. Fresh fish being put on display from the boats that had just pulled into the docks moments previous. Jamie examined the fruits and foods of the soon to be flooded bazaar. He fully intended to cook something for Kairi on this leave, even if he didn't remember anything he liked...or that she liked for that matter... He doubted that there were any foods that tasted divine to everyone no matter the pallet here...That'd make things a lot more simple. He resigned to roaming aimlessly for a while, watching the purchases of the few people up as early as he. Everything here was so foreign. He was honestly afraid that the colorful looking citrus fruit that caught his eye previously was so horribly poisonous that a bite was cause terrible, horrible death of the blood curdling scream kind. He waited for a man to buy one and immediately eat it before moving on to new wares before venturing a taste himself. After a deliciously sweet and tart taste and no convulsions Jamie bought a bundle full, confident that he could serve at least one thing that wouldn't kill anyone. He continued to roam the market untill something caught his eye. "Today and only today! Have your soul peered upon by the nameless one! Your past, present and future are hers to behold! Only fifty credits!" A smirk lined his features as he debated the validity of going in. Eh, couldn't hurt. He sauntered in, the small hut was dark, dreary and smokey. He took a sniff. Not regular smoke, and not incents. It smelled far more illegal, and far more enjoyable. He shrugged despite himself, he wasn't here to judge drug addictions. He walked a little further into the back to find a woman sitting behind a small table. Two plus two equals four. "You must be the 'Nameless One'". The woman looked up, her face previously hidden by her cloak. She was quite beautiful, despite the gypsy fortune teller with the hideous boil stereotype. "Lt. Kroells. I've been waiting for you." "Wait...how did you?" She smirked. "The sign doesn't say psychic fortune teller for no reason." He resisted an eye roll. He didn't exactly enjoy the idea of a telepath that invaded minds as readily as her. Then again, she probably just read that too. She continued to smile as he sat down across from her. "Don't worry, I know your not one of the simple minded fishermen. I only use my skills like that to create the nuance of the supernatural." "I suppose I'll have to trust you on that." "You're from that shovel shaped ship right? Lots of talk in the system about it. It's become quite popular." Jamie couldn't help but smile, thoughts of stories of the "Shovel Ship" floating about. He pulled out his credits. "I suppose you know about-" "-The memories? Yes, which is why I'm not going to charge you." He raised a brow. "A generous gypsy?" She smiled politely back at him. "Hardly. I'm not going to lie, I may not be able to do a thing for you." "Then why are you?" A wicked grin. "For the challenge. Now, place your hands palms up on the table." He did as she said as she gently rested her palms on his, closing her eyes. He fingers slowly traced his wrist, her brow furrowed. "The damage is rather traumatic. I'm not sure I can do anything like this. I can try something else...but it may not be pleasant." He pondered if for a moment...how did the old saying go? No pain no gain? "Very well...go ahead." She nodded, her hands cupping the back of his head as she pulled him close to her, resting her forehead against his. "I'll basically be using the parts of my mind to supplant the damaged parts of yours. If I can recall anything...it'll instantly be flooded into your mind as well." The temple splitting headache onset almost the instant she started. But he sat, patiently, trying to let her work. And right when the pain was almost unbearable it hit him like a kick in the nuts. The door slowly whooshed open as Jamie stepped into one of the ships numerous sensor relay ports. It was a small room with little more then bio neural gel packs, endless wires, and a light that flickered so annoyingly it nearly made one want to stab himself in the eye. This conduit had been giving them troubles ever since being deposited here in the Perseus Arm. However, with the ship torn to hell as it was, minor sensor glitches were an annoyance until now, when it finally became a priority. He looked down to his tool kit and let out an almost disgusted sigh. Odile refused to do such 'menial' work. Everyone else was busy, or gave him excuses. Gods sake what was he, the Chief of Sciences? By gods he thinks he's right. Ungrateful little... He walked over to a device, calibrating it, aiming it at the desired spot on the wall. He let out a small sigh. It'd be over soon. Odile running her mouth, making his department the laughing stock of the ship. It'd be over soon, he'd see to that. He moved to the wall, running his hand across the smooth surface. The device came to life, and quickly began to shoot sparks with the pending over load. Even though he couldn't see it, the beam of theta radiation was hitting its desired spot on wall. He sighed. It wasn't exactly dignified, but at least they wouldn't know he did it on purpose. He continued his forward march until the beam went through his head. He dropped. Wasn't much to do now but die. He pushed away so violently that he flew out of his chair, spilling his fruits on the floor. He could only look to her terrified eyes for a second before he bolted out, juice staining the carpet under the soles of his feat. He ran out of the bazaar. He ran out of the village. He ran on the beach until he could run no more. Collapsing in the sand, vomit coming from the exertion and the disgust. Oh gods what was he?

James silently walked into the labs, his first time in a long while. Silent glances and hush whispered permeated the room, making this all the more awkward. He moved towards his office, slowly tapping the buzzer. "Enter!" she called, brightly, smiling until she saw who it was. "Oh. It's you." He slowly shuffled in, his face blank and his voice emotionless. "Yes, it is. I've been cleared for duty. Please leave." "They cleared you? I wonder what you had to do for that." She frowned, looking up at him. "I've thoroughly made this office my own. Do you have a problem with relocating the remainder of your things to the broom closet?" He wanted to scream. He wanted to throttle her and make her scream as much as he wanted to. He sighed. "Yes, I do. Please, just leave." She closed her eyes with a sigh. "Lieutenant, if there's something bothering you other than amnesia, that's your own affair. But if I hear one complaint about the room's condition..." she let her voice trail off in an unspoken threat. He stared her down, the few threads holding him together quickly coming undone. "O'd'yl, if you're such and expert on human emotions, you can tell I'm in no mood for games, of which I hear your so fond of. I will ask you once more while my patience still exists. Please leave, before I loose my god damned mind." "You already did." She rose, nodding. "Though I'll take my leave of you, for fear I may lose mine. You never know if it's contagious." He took a step forward, pausing for a moment before looking back to her, the steely fire in his eyes gone. "Why do you hate me?" "I don't hate you. I dislike you because you clearly have no respect for either me or my culture." He sat in the chair across from her abruptly. "Why? Was I just that much of a prick?" "You got a broken nose, didn't you? Believe it or not, I don't always resort to physical violence. One has to rub me entirely the wrong way." She was being honest. Nicknames and generally bad sentiments came easily -- damaged noses did not. An almost complete and utter sadness shook his features, the trace hints of glistening appeared in his eyes before he looked away. "I see. Thank you." "You honestly don't remember, do you?" she asked, softly. He swallowed hard. "I remember one thing. It came to me on leave. And the more I learn, the more it makes sense." "What did you remember?" He continued to look away, a tear rolling down his cheek. "It wasn't an accident." "Suicide," Odile pronounced. "You should tell Levy." His eyes snapped back to hers. "For what? So they can take me off the job again? Poke me and prode me, scan my brain until they know what I'm going to think before I do? And for what? Punishment of a life that I dont remember, I life I tried to end!?" "You may try again when you remember more. You should get help." He let out a weak lifeless chuckle. "I thought you wanted this office." "When it comes down to it, I'm not that selfish." "Then your reputation is as twisted as mine." She nodded. "It's likely, though I don't bother correcting it." "Right. Now...my office please." "All right. But I have some stuff I need to collect later. Fair, mindless one?" she asked, a hint of tease in her voice. His face was blank, his voice distant again. "Fair enough." "I'll check in later." "...Alright." She gently patted his shoulder on the way out. "Call if you need anything, Jamie." He said nothing as she exited. The locks engaging and the lights going dark the moment the door closed.

Odile stepped into an office right off of the Bridge without bothering with the chime, a scheming, happy swagger in her step. "My dear, dear Colonel! How was your Shore Leave?" Without looking up from the requisitions she was signing, Harper said, "Go out and come in properly, Sin." "I don't think you ever really moved past your day as an Academy instructor. Maybe we should get you a little school bell that you can stand outside ringing at the beginning of every shift. Then OPS can even pipe it through the comms." Sighing, she looked up. "Next time, I'll simply engage the privacy lock and let you walk into the door." "That wouldn't be very sporting. Especially when I come bearing wonderful news!" "Do tell," replied the colonel dryly. "Well, Science now has a mascot. Besides my knife, and besides the now-Mindless Minion of Moi. I do admit," she digressed. "I would never have thought Jamie would have an odder reputation than I have." She shook her head, seeming disappointed. "A mascot." "A mascot," she repeated, mirroring the Marine's tone. Once again, Harper prompted, "Do tell." "Lieutenant JoNs and I again attempted Shore Leave. You'll be happy to know that we did not touch alcoholic beverages. But on the way to the restaurant, we saw something in a vendor." "You bought a pet." The colonel wasn't sure whether to laugh or scowl. "Take it back." "No no! It's a special pet! See," she leaned forward as if to divulge a grave secret. "It's your namesake." "Sin, I am not letting anything deadly on board." She reconsidered. "In fact, maybe we should leave you here..." "It's not deadly! It's simply... tentacled! Like you!" she added, triumphantly. "If it goes, you'll be forced to leave as well. All's fair in pets and war." She sighed. She seemed to do that a lot when Condacin was in proximity. "Odile, I've already thrown you in the brig once this trip; you're here bothering me because...?" "Its name is Medusa. Science's own pet jellyfish. Would you like to come see the Natural Habitat we've constructed?" "Name it something else, return it to the vendor, and get out of the Ready Room before I forget to be nice." Harper picked up the stylus and signed another form. "We didn't budget for pets." "You'll learn to love it. Either it goes or I do." Odile huffed, suddenly wondering if that was the best ultimatum to offer. "Bye." "You want Science unprotected and Amnesiac running loose? Be my guest. But be nice to Medusa. She's like a faerie godchild to you, I hope you realize." Harper tapped one finger against the desk, a habit she'd picked up from General Kimura. "I believe the deal was 'it goes or you do'," she mused. "Since you do have a point about the science department, you'll have to stay. Therefore, it goes. By 1400, please." The Xenexian eyed her, miserably. "Charlie! That's inhumane! It's already happy! And we need specimens from this region of space for study." Difference being, she had learned to run when Kimura did it. "And if I thought you'd picked it for any purpose other than getting under my skin, I might stretch your budget for it. However, since we do have a long list of necessary supplies..." She indicated the padds she was working on. "I'm afraid 'prank supplies' is just not in the cards." "It's not a prank! It's a pet! A friend!" Offering a most mournful look, she sniffed. "I don't have many friends." "That's true." Harper smirked, an idea drifting into her mind. "Very well, you can keep it. But!" She held up a hand to forestall any comments. "But, you have to find a way to pay for it; it's not coming out of the ship's trade goods." "We can fund it together. It'll be part of a plan to bring out your maternal instincts. After all, it's Medusa, Jr.!" "My contribution is not throwing it and you off the ship," Harper pointed out. She smiled. "Maybe you can sell your knife." The normally bronzed face turned a paler shade. "Harper!" Her mouth lacked the ability to form coherent words. "You know how special... you... I'd rather sell the cat!" "No; I need her." "And you need me. And Medusa Jr. And the knife. Come on -- we can spare coffee beans or something. Or sell off crewmen. We have too many after the Gideon transfer. Sell the new Trill doctor. She has a loud mouth -- she could survive. Or Jamie. 'A freak from the Alpha Quadrant'. I was thinking about this the other day," Repressing another sigh, Harper met Condacin's gaze squarely. "Sin." She grew serious, not bothering to repress her own breath. "Charlie. It was fairly inexpensive. And we do need samples. I don't want to have to sell my valuables to pay for it. And it's not like I bring non-collectible luxury items with me when I set sail. I live moderately and simply. I don't have a hell of a lot I could exactly pay for it with." "All right, then. I have only two words left for you." " 'Rename', and 'it'?" she asked, an overly recalcitrant twinkle in her eye. "Go. Away." "But there's one more surprise!" Odile grinned, savagely. The finger started tapping again. "Do. Tell," she said for the third time, through gritted teeth. The scientist lifted a small insulated case from the floor to the Colonel's desk, tossing it on top of her reports. "I brought you takeout from the restaurant!" Odile smiled sweetly. "It's almost like Chinese food, but they had some strange, special spice in it, which I also want a sample of, with the Almighty Colonel's permission." All too familiar with the way the Xenexian's mind worked, Harper asked suspiciously, "Why?" "No, I didn't poison it. I thought you'd appreciate something nice from the surface besides a fairy-jellyfish." "Why do you want a sample." "Because I might retake up cooking. I did a little back on Shinano during training. No one died, and you could use a little home cooking now and then." "Fine, fine, get a sample." She opened the Colonel's dinner for her, running a tricorder over its contents and spices before picking up an old-style paper napkin out of the takeout tray. "Shall I let you handle this, or do I need to bib you? Those Marine uniforms show every stain, after all." "Condacin, you passed the point of my patience somewhere around 'fairy godchild'," Harper warned. "Go away." "I'll check back later and give you a personal invitation to the Inauguration of the Tank. Enjoy supper!" she called, waving back as she headed out to the Bridge.

Oh, wow. Wasn't that nice. Yet another alien species that was going to play friendly, offering up hearth and home, their "market", then undoubtedly blow them out of the sky at the first opportunity. It wasn't that Odile didn't like meeting new folk -- it was just that they rarely liked meeting her, and most of them didn't even particularly like her shipmates. Again, most of the time it was that "blow out of sky" kind of dislike. And to market they would go. Wasn't that nice. They'd get to go down to market armed with nothing but panniers to carry their little wobbly-headed-alien dolls and snowglobes back to the ship, and likely wouldn't have a phaser between the lot of them. Ah well, the Odd one had her knife, and that was quite enough for her. And if they made her leave that on the ship... unhappy camper much? What had she done to deserve such a fate? She'd die at the hands of an unhappy merchant who didn't like the Xenexian's style of bartering -- "You give me that, and I don't kill you." She'd die messily and painfully, too. What a sad thought for a noble warrior like Odile. And what were they to barter with? Was she supposed to start selling her crewmates off for slave trade? Oooh! There was a thought! Some exotic harem-keeper might like a feline slave! Or a feisty over-friendly Jellyfish who thought her crew liked being sent down to foreign planets never to return! Or a power-hungry amnesiac who thought his department consisted of slaves to his whims! Or ghosts! Yes! For a scientist! They could study Friend Ghost! How much would Kitty or Spineless be worth? A slow grin spread over her face. She would be very wealthy. Or she pick the less fun route and just... hide... and hope that the planet's residents were Xenexioid enough that she would blend without being mugged or otherwise murdered. Unfortunately, since she didn't have enough time to develop a system for trapping and storing slaves for trade... that would have to do. Unless she used catnip. Naaaaaaaah.

Have you ever had a nagging question that burns away at your soul... like acid on butter? Have you ever not known where to turn to when times get tough? Do you have questions that desperately need answered, and issues that need solved? Do you not know where to turn? Does life no longer hold the same appeal that it used to? Does your career seem to be more difficult since we got stranded in the far end of the galaxy? Imagine peace of mind. Imagine serenity. Imagine having someone to turn to when times get touch. Imagine having that burning acid on your soul disappear. Imagine all of your problems flying away on golden wings. Imaging having someone to turn to who understands everything you're going through, has been there before, and is there to impart his/her exquisite wisdom. Search your imagination no longer! Help has arrived for the poor crew of the Agincourt. Where once before there was darkness, now there is light. Now, you can... Ask Xenexian! You are encouraged to submit quagmires, questions, and quarrels over the Agincourt Intranet to the anonymous help expert who has volunteered her valuable time and effort to making your lives easier. Yes, that's right -- your lives. Odile sat back in her chair, a grin spreading across her face as she submitted her post to the ship's Intranet bulletin board system. It occurred to her after Kairi left rather upset that Agincourt was seriously short of counselors and the like -- kind folk who wouldn't mind shelling out a bit of time and energy to help others. Clearly, she would make a fine, informal addition to the counseling staff... and after all, when a niche is open, even if you don't fit the job description, you can always sort of jam yourself into the opening as best you can, and any holes can be patched later, can't they? Ask Xenexian!, therefore, clearly would catch on. If there was one thing about both barnacles and jarheads that they shared, it was an abnormal predisposition towards whining. What could possibly be more appealing to them to have someone asking to hear them whine? Suddenly, she started having wild fantasies of seeing her name and column splashed across all of the Milky Way. Admirals and dignitaries would write in -- her advice would be well worth its weight in gold-pressed latinum. Yes, Ask Xenexian! would be a galactic phenomenon. Gods be praised for her brilliance in developing the concept.

Odile sat on the edge of her/Kroells' desk, leaning forward to examine the consoleful of findings from Stellar Cart. While far from completion, it was shaping up to give her a general idea of their surroundings. Different patches of color showed around their current location; various systems and voids being claimed by the species of the region. But, despite each alien's firm assertations that they indeed were masters of the system, the Xenexian woman was starting to realize that they were still in completely unexplored territory. It was an exciting, if intimidating, thought. With unknowns came dangers, and with danger... well, with danger came bad things. Things that put a deep laceration in Kroells' already lacking competance. Ghosts -- er -- energy beings that came around to terrorize (or was that help/befriend?) the crew. Giant birds that looked like they came out of an children television show's episode gone wrong. Scary jellyfish that attacked with tentacles. Giant jungle cats running amuck. Alright, those two dangers were ever-present, but the earlier ones... Still, O'd'yl appreciated a good hazard now and then, especially when it wasn't something mundane, like clan warfare on her homeworld, or venturing into the territory of angered Marine. No, she'd rather have something that might actually strike terror into the heart -- something in the vein of her first posting as a wide-eyed little trainee. But even in comparison, giant stingered arachnids weren't as frightening as the prospect of being in possibly (more like probably) in unfriendly foreign space without a hope of getting out. Was it what she had really signed up for? It wasn't as if she were your typical nerdy little scientist who was more interested in monitor botanical experiments than get out there. But to be in a such unfamiliar place? Was that any better than leading a boring existence on some backwater little station? Glancing out the viewport, she sighed. None of the stars even looked vaguely familiar, even after her hours pouring over scans of the region. A voice tried a final reprimand with his daughter. "The sky is our limit, O'd'yl." "Not even our stars are my limit," the enlistee corrected, submitting from her Xenexian abode the paperwork which would end her hiatus from Starfleet. "Not even the stars," she said quietly, glancing down at her blade out of habit. Not even.

Is anyone else getting the urge to analyze all of the aliens' physiology and technology? We have some rather interesting things out here in the outer reaches!

Could I have... "Holder of the Scary Knife"? Thank ye. :P

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone! :D

The Science Lab was darkened. But even for during the middle of the day, it was relatively normal. O'd'yl preferred the dark. Maybe it was a result of having been raised on an inhospitable little rock of a world where sand, an inferno of a sun, and heat were gods; water and vegetation valuable commodities. The dark was cooling, soothing in ways that off-worlders didn't understand. She switched on the lamp at Kroells' desk, lacing her fingers across one another as she mindlessly inspected the skin upon them. Light struck the blade of her cherished weapon lying on the table, drawing her attention to it. Tracing along the edge of the finely engraved hilt, she closed her eyes. This region of space troubled her. The damage to the ship troubled her. JoNs' and Harper's frames of mind troubled her. Shadow flat out worried her. Condacin was genuinely frightened by the entity. She hadn't had that kind of unbridled terror that had stricken her when it... he... had first entered the Lab since long before she joined Starfleet. Despite all reassurances from him, Kairi, and Levy, he still left her with sensations of fear, apprehension and dread that all but paralyzed her. O'd'yl was used to the superstitions of paranoid shamans that warned of the evil being caught in a status between life and death after their demises, but never paid it much note. After all, she was, despite the accusations of a good deal of her countrymen, a scientist. Haunted houses and blood-suckers in the night could all be explained through rational explanation. But ever now and then, there was a part of her consciousness that nagged at her for those loudly vocalized refutations of the amulet dealers and exorcists that she made. The part that reminded her how some things couldn't be completely explained by science, at least not by science that was at all likely to be understood within her lifetime. Some things weren't traceable on a tricorder. Some things were mysteries. Dropping the knife a centimeter or two back onto the surface, she stood. She paced a few meters back and forth as she touched her damp brow. She was breathing heavily. It surprised her. Usually, physiologically, she was exponentially better at keeping her calm. But extreme stress was known to do that to her. Eyes glued to the bulkhead ahead of her, she took a few more steps. Finally leaning against the wall, she grimaced, memories better kept submerged resurfacing. It hadn't been entirely her fault. After all, who could resist it? The Pit was something feared, respected, and utterly off-limits to Xenexian children. Which was exactly its appeal. The brave and resourceful all made their way to it at some point in their lives. After all, you didn't go more than a few days in childhood without hearing tales of olden days when every little Xenexian headed off with knapsack and parental blessings to divine something in his future. Then, according to the urban legends, after a few centuries of losing a sizeable percentage of offspring, the Xenexians tried to wisen up, eventually banning the so-called "Search for Allways" completely. But did that stop the young ones from heading off into the wasteland for a few days? Hell no. One of the other children had goaded her into her proclamation that she would undertake the Search. O'd'yl was thirteen. Even a little younger than some of her fellow miscreants when she packed up a small sack of supplies. Only what tradition called for: no more, no less. Barely enough water to carry her through a day, and no food. She wondered if she was suicidal to set out on her little journey alone. Everyone did it that way, but that fact didn't add any safety to it. Besides, she liked to use common sense in her decisions, even at that age. Within three days in the heat of the Xenexian desert, she was almost dead, and if most of Condacin's leading families had not ended up sending out search teams for the girl, Agincourt likely would have been short one Xenexian. After a few days of returning home, her father finally did ask her if her Search had indeed turned anything up. She glanced up at him, golden eyes surprised, as if it were preposterous that she had not. "Of course. It was clearly stated that my destiny is not on Xenex, but in the stars." Continuing matter-of-factly, she shrugged. "It was whispered. Along with names. Names of family long gone, names I've never heard, names that someday will have meaning." She was sitting again by the time her foray into eons past had ended. To her surprise, a small droplet of water fell onto the desk, a few inches from her dagger. Gingerly touching a finger to her damp eye, she exhaled quietly. Little gods, if her destiny lied in the murky corners of the galaxy, so be it, though it was never what she had imagined. She missed the hopes of her youth, the dreams, the beliefs that no matter what, the unknown was able to be conquered. She guessed that until one was submerged into the very depths of such unknowns, as she was now, that it seemed possible. And maybe that was what frightened her most about Shadow -- not so much the entity himself, but what he represented: the indecipherable foreign. Odile glanced over one shoulder to confirm that she was alone before burying the palms of her hands against her eyes, stifling a sob. Despite her bellicosity, for five minutes, she wanted calm, serenity. Peace for spirits. Peace for the past. Peace for the future. "Lights at seventy-five percent," she mumbled, the room becoming illuminated. Let daylight at last fall again upon us.

Nestled in the far back corner of the Science Lab, a Xenexian sat, boots still perched on her chief's desk. She looked over a few padds with information on the various ships they'd been intercepting, finally getting her heart rate back to a level of normalcy. Spooks and goblins... belonged back home in tales used to frighten children into obedience, not her ship. Suddenly, from behind her came a familiar voice. “Spooks and goblins are a child's fantasy. I am Shadow. I am friend.” She looked up, startled, face growing pale yet again. "Friend. Right, I think I got that the first time," she muttered, debating whether to call down the kitty or whether to try to handle "Shadow" on her own. He had materialized into an awkward imitation of a science officer and stood still, as though he were trying to keep her from alarm. His voice was somewhat chilling, and Odile struggled to control herself as she interacted with him. "There is much I need to learn about biological beings. I have been in the holodeck, learning to assimilate. However, the knowledge of those holodeck beings is limited. You, on the other hand, are one who studies what they call science." Assimilate. Now there was a nice, friendly term. "Yes, I'm a scientist," she conceded, volunteering nothing else. It didn't exist. Just didn't exist. So how was she talking to it? Mass hallucination. And now she was suffering from it, too. "Then, you could help me understand biologicals?" "Could, yes. Will, no. My job description doesn't mention having to deal with figments of the imagination." "Figments of the imagination are not reality. I am reality. You are reality. Please explain." She blinked a few times, surprised. "So you do... you are alive, then?" Her hypothesis wasn't holding up the way she would have liked it to. Usually hallucinations weren't that... independently sentient, so to speak? "I am not alive in the way you are alive. You are biological. I exist. I am." She leaned forward, taking her feet of Kroells' desk. "So you're purporting to be an energy being?" Here Shadow paused in thought, as though he were puzzling out a reply. He seemed to be struggling, deciding whether to give more explanation or to accept Odile’s interpretation. Finally he said simply, "I am an energy being." "All right, that's a start." She looked off to one side, blowing a small bit of air out of her mouth. "So, where do you come from? A planet of energy beings?" Give us the address, and we'll gladly take you home, she thought, smirking slightly. "We exist. All places. All times. We have no planet," he stated quite flatly, quickly losing his ability to maintain his form. This time she managed not to shriek, though her eyes widened considerably. "Riddles, Shadow?" "Riddles?" he managed to say before fading even more. "Please explain." "Ideas with cloaked meanings, meant to confuse. Which is what you're doing, right? Attempting to confuse?" she asked, her voice low to belie the tremble it carried. "Confuse. No." His voice weakened with his presence and, as he lost cohesion he also lost the ability to control his voice, which descended into hollowness reminiscent of ghouls. "Friend," was all he could manage before fading completely away. With a sigh, she leaned her chin on a hand, shaking her head slightly. "All right, I suppose I can take that for now. 'Friend' ghost."

Congratulations.

(Warning -- does contain some maturish themes.) A quiet sigh of relief escaped the Xenexian's lips. Though she could do without the thought of her planet a smoldering little cinder, at least he wasn't hell-bent on making her life miserable that evening. She crossed to him, refilling the glass of wine before taking a graceful seat on the arm of his chair. "Would you care for a massage?" she ventured, politely, risking a glance to his eyes. "That would be pleasant," he admitted calmly, sipping the wine. The slave quickly rubbed her hands together, warming them before slowly reaching for the back of his neck. If he were any other man, it'd have left him slightly vulnerable. No such luck here. She flinched slightly as her hands met his skin, not letting much conscious thought in her mind as she kneaded the muscle. "A long and tiring day?" she repeated from his earlier comment. "Anything you wish to muse about, even to a lowly servant? "Bungling from the Agincourt, and the governor of this sector. Apparently they feel it unimportant to file reports with me. I suppose I shall have to go remind them personally." "Indeed, a personal appearance would rather quickly set them in their appropriate places." "It's always worked on Xenex." The agreement was mild, lazy almost. She paused in her caresses before continuing, speaking softly. "Yes, Master, it has." "Still," he sighed, "it's tedious. And it takes time away from more important matters." "Something noteworthy on the home front?" she asked, curiously. "The usual political bickering." He reached back to pat her arm patronizingly. "Nothing that should concern you." Her arm stiffened slightly, her voice growing a shard icier. "No, of course not." Smirking, he continued, "I suppose you'll be glad when we return to Elas?" "Why should I be, Sir?" she asked, half-heartedly. "Your work there is much easier." "But," she protested, gently, "the other Elasians... other servants for that matter, are so much less accustomed to a Xenexian." "So you prefer it here?" he probed. "Officers, glassware, and all?" "Most of the time," she admitted. "Both have their high and low points." "Then you should work harder to make yourself useful here." He smiled, closing his eyes. "Next time I might leave you on Elas." Pulling back, O'd'yl looked down, quietly, tempering the small outburst of anger. "As my lord sees best," she submitted, fighting to keep level. He could feel her anger like heat against his own mind. "Temper, temper, slave," Koshic warned. "That won't endear you to me." "No of course not," she replied, quickly. "And you only speak the truth." "Pretty words." His eyes opened; he turned to regard her cooly. "If only they had some meaning." She extended a gentle hand, shaking her head. "They do, but..." Her voice tapered off as her eyes again met his. The amulet glowed softly, but he held back his hand. "But?" he prompted, lifting his brows expectantly. "But, I am simply an unreasonable servant. I seem unable to accept an arrangement which leaves me a virtually privileged Xenexian, and I do apologize." Caught between amusement and irritation, he smiled wryly. "Perhaps you merely need further education," he suggested. "It would hardly surprise me that your nugacious species took longer to learn things than most." "No, Sir, I don't believe it particularly necessary," she said, speaking quickly, frantically. "Unless you are to require it, and I beg you don't." "Prove to me that the lesson is unnecessary," he challenged. Squelching any distaste, she dropped to a knee. "Surely we have been over this many times, Lord?" He caught her chin in his fingers. "You appear to need the reminder." "As you wish, Lord." She sighed, closing her eyes. "I am truly grateful to you for sparing Xenex where other worlds would have been obliterated." "And?" Releasing her, he settled back in his chair. "And for this I offer loyalty, as I always have." His eyes bored into her, mental fingers skimming through her thoughts. "An odd sort of loyalty," he reflected. "Perhaps we had better say 'service' instead, as we both know you would turn on me in an instant, if you thought you would not destroy the rabble on your homeworld in the process." "Service, then, Master," she agreed, lowly. "But I understand your power, and I'd never betray you. Not with Xenex at stake." A smile. "If that is what motivates you, then perhaps..." He trailed off, gazing out one of the large viewports thoughtfully. "Yes, my lord?" A touch of fear crossed her eyes. Idly he stroked her hair as though petting an animal. "Perhaps I should rethink your discipline. Evidently it will be far more effective to punish your fellow Xenexians than your directly." She trembled, both from his words and touch. "I beg you reconsider." "Oh, but consider how much trouble it will save if -- for example -- I were to... stop food shipments to your home city for a week each time you defied me." "You'd punish Condacin just for the crimes of one unruly servant?" "If it worked." He shrugged slightly. The fate of a handful of slaves on that dustball of a planet was meaningless to him. "Surely my service isn't that valuable." "You have it backwards, slave. It is not you that has value, but they that lack it." She nodded with a small sigh. "I see, and even something of little worth is better than that with none." "Precisely." He smiled. "See? You can learn, after all." She smiled back slightly. "Indeed I can." "So, then. What shall we do about today's indiscretions?" He watched her face carefully. "I admit, executions would seem to be a tad overzealous..." "I would concur, Master," she replied, unsure of whether to make a suggestion or not. How does one pick her own punishment, after all? "I would leave it to your best judgment." "Oh, now, don't be so shy." A cruel smirk crossed his face. "You've never had trouble speaking your mind before." "The stakes are higher..." "So they are." He rested his chin in one hand. "But tell me what you think would be fair. Come, slave, how often do I offer you a chance to have your opinions heard?" "Not often at all." She looked up at him warily. "I don't believe it was a major offense -- perhaps extended shifts doing more of the same?" "But we just established that punishing you directly was not particular effective." His voice and face were neutral, but there was a light in his eyes that spoke of pleasure; he was enjoying pressing her this way. "Perhaps some sort of light restrictions on Condacin, then? An early curfew, perhaps? Something trivial -- they would not need to be brutally punished, I'd think." He appeared to give the matter some thought. "Since the question is one of idleness, let us make the punishment fit the crime," he declared. "Condacin's work quotas will be raised... until your productivity is satisfactory." "Yes, Master." Her voice turned pleading. "But spare the children the excess of work. I was not to know of this recent change of 'education' tactics." "Oh, very well." He lifted her chin until her eyes met his. "Then I suppose we know what the punishment for the next infraction of this nature will be." "Yes, I suppose we do." Sincerely, she gave him the slightest smile. "Thank you -- for your kindness." Relative kindness, she corrected, mentally. "Be grateful there was any at all," he replied, catching the thought. "Unless you prefer I change my mind...?" "No!" she replied, hastily. "You decision is wise, and just. I would not want you to alter it." "Already the lessons are sinking in," said Koshic approvingly. "In time you may become a model slave indeed." "Let us pray, great one."

(Warning -- does contain some mature dialogue.) The Lord Regent Koshic N'Dak, Ruler of Elasia and Sovereign of the Children of Elaa, along with a host of other titles, had just settled into his favorite plush chair when the door of his bedchamber slid open quietly. The slender figure silhouetted there was familiar: his Xenexian slave, O'd'yl. The woman took a few small steps inside before dropping to a knee, her head lowering, humbly as she waited for him to speak. He stared at her, his eyes boring coldly into her. "You insulted one of my officers today." "My lord?" She glanced up at him. "The one who would not leave me to serving my master in peace?" A scowl settled heavily on his features. "Haughty, rude, contemptuous, lazy... Words I am... unaccustomed to hearing applied to my slaves." She nodded slowly, not rising. "Perhaps he was correct, but I personally do not believe that such slander is entirely accurate. If I may be so bold, I believe that he was attempting to turn my loyalties from you to him." "Do you now." His eyes narrowed as the amulet on his chest began to glow faintly. "I think he was simply trying to coax you into his bed." "Perhaps he was," she acquiesced. "But it was not his right to do so." Mental shields rising, she started to breathe uneasily. "His right?" A harsh, barking laugh emerged from Koshic's throat. "Need we go over -- yet again -- what your position is?" "No, Sir," she replied quickly. "I am your slave," she announced hastily, eyes darting to his for a reaction. Her surface thoughts held the proper degree of fear, but there was something else there. "A pathetic example of a race so weak they were conquered twice," he pressed, his gaze fixed intently on her. A stab of regret sliced through her. "Justly so, Lord. We are inferior," she murmured, reciting the phrases she'd learned to use in pacification. "So what," he growled, "makes you think there is any Elasian on this ship who cannot command you? You think you are better than even the lowest crewman aboard?" "I would prefer to think that my duties towards you -- and the ship itself -- would be more important than servicing one of your officers." A slice of pain slapped into her mind, searing. "You do not prefer anything, slave. You do not think -- you obey." She whimpered quietly, nodding frantically. "As you say, Master." He allowed the pressure to ease away, extending a hand to her. "Come here." Hesitating, she eyed him warily before rising, approaching. "Yes, my lord?" He caught her hands, inspected them closely. "Well. It appears you did at least some work today after all." She nodded, fear quelling, at least slightly. "I did what I could, Sir. My best." "Wine," he ordered curtly, releasing her and settling back in his chair. She scampered off to a small yet lavishly stocked cupboard in the far corner of the room, retrieving a crystalline bottle and goblet. She gently removed the stopper, pouring the lilac beverage into the vessel before offering it to him with a small nod of the head. He took it nonchanlantly, skimming quickly through her mind to ensure no unpleasant surprises awaited him, then sipped. A smirk. "Boots," he said, snapping his fingers at her imperiously and motioning to the footwear in question. She kneeled at his feet, deftly beginning to remove the polished leather. "Has it been a trying day for you, my lord?" she asked, without pretense. Removing the other boot, she glanced at the rich carpeting on the floor. "If it is my place to ask." "Lengthy," he said shortly, lifting the glass to his lips again. "Affairs of state consume a great deal of time and energy... but of course, you could hardly understand." Her eyes flashed angrily. "With respect, I was leader on Xenex. You know this, Master." "It is hardly possible to call the head of such rabble a 'leader'," he drawled, stretching out his long legs. "Alpha female, perhaps, as in certain animal packs..." She pulled back, slightly offended. "Regent," she began, words flying like darts, "I beg you reconsider your views of my stature." "Reconsider?" He appeared to be honestly surprised, and perhaps a bit amused. "Girl, your stature is what is has always been, and will always be: a weak, pathetic example of a primitive and barbaric species, one step away from being displayed in my menagerie." "Menagerie?" she asked, her temper raging beneath the quickly-heating facade. "Do you truly take pleasure in infuriating me?" He smirked. "Someday, slave, you will learn your proper place. In the meantime..." His eyes narrowed. "Fear..." She stumbled backward, trembling as her jaw tightened. "Please," she mumbled, motioning beseechingly to him. The waves of crushing terror continued for a space of ten heartbeats before he released her. "Now," the Regent said in satisfaction, "shall we try that again?" She nodded slowly, still keeping her distance from him. "Very well, lord," she replied staunchly. "You're improving," he noted. "Time was you'd have continued to insist that your miserable species deserved some consideration... all evidence to the contrary." "Some consideration, perhaps, under your lordship's firm leadership." An ongoing... discussion... between the two of them. "They haven't shared the Danteri's fate... yet." He gazed down at her impassively. "How much more consideration do you want?" She pretended to consider the fact. "Master is most kind, to spare my people. And for that I am grateful," she stated, honestly. "But if only there was a way for us to prove greater worth..." He sighed. Her thoughts betrayed her, as usual, but he would play along for now. "It is frequently difficult," mused the Regent, "to remember why I spare Xenex, when every time I turn around a daughter of that world is trying my patience." "I apologize, Lord. There are times I forget that I single-handedly represent my people." "Hardly single-handedly." There were, after all, several other Xenexian slaves on the ship. "But you are... my primary specimen, shall we say?" "And I am content to serve so," she said, evenly. His eyes met hers, and there was a touch in her mind like raking claws. Koshic smirked. "If you say so, slave." "Yes, Master." Her eyes didn't leave his, the golden tones chilling. "I am indeed content." He smiled lazily, and the tension in the air vanished. "Then come and serve me," he directed, crooking a finger at her, "and remind me why Xenex has not shared the fate of Remus."

O'd'yl, formerly of Condacin, sat rather uncomfortably perched on a bench, focused most unintently on a case of filthy test tubes. They didn't retain their old labels, which worried the Xenexian. After all, the Elasians didn't exactly give their slaves protective gloves, and gods only knew what toxins and abrasives had been stored in them. Warmth at her back was her first clue that she was no longer alone. The second clue was the voice directly in her ear. "Boo." "I'm not frightened," she announced flatly, turning to the arrival. "sir." "Of course not, pretty pet," he replied, tugging lightly at a strand of her hair. "After all, you're the fierce Xenexian warrior woman." She continued her scrubbings, ignoring him for a moment. "Fierce" was right. "Xenexian" was accurate. "Warrior" was correct, and perhaps most appealing to the trash, "woman" was dead-on. Was she supposed to disagree, or otherwise apologize for part of said correctness? Or verbally and haughtily agree, and likely be smacked? O'd'yl selected silence. He picked up one of the cleaned test tubes and eyed it critically. "Of course, based on this, I think lazy, careless, useless slave is more accurate." He tossed the tube back into the case of dirty ones. "I already cleaned that," she remarked, reaching back into the case and withdrawing the tube without so much as a glance at either implement or Elasian. "If that's what you call clean, slave, it might be worth taking you to medical." He caught her chin and forced her to look at him. "Clearly those golden orbs are failing." Unblinking, she stared back at him. "I think not. They see you plainly enough, and you are but a speck on this ship." His fingers tightened painfully on her jaw. "Speck? You piece of Xenexian filth, how dare you speak to an Elasian like that? You should be grateful to have a place on this ship, with food and clothes. You could be like the rest of your people, dirty, half-naked animals grubbing in the streets for scraps." She shrugged as best as she could under his grip. "If I might disagree? They aren't the beasts you seem to think," she replied, deceptively diplomatic. "They are what I say they are, slave," he snapped, leaning down to bring his face inches from hers. "Of course they are. And you have both the background and the power to back that up," she replied, sarcastically. In one fluid movement, he released her and straightened up, then drew back his arm and slapped her across the face. Recomposing herself from the blow, the Xenexian looked up at him once more. "Brute force? From such a philosopher and analyst? I am thinking that I should be shocked, but I'm lacking that sentiment at present." He glared at her coldly. "Clearly, you are not nearly as smart as I thought you were. This --" he waved a derisive hand at the dirty glassware "-- must be almost beyond your abilities." She stared at him dumbly, doing her best to appear absolutely moronic. "It must be at that, Sir." "You could have a patron, pet," he told her, twining his hand in her hair. "A protector. Someone who would see to it that you don't waste yourself on jobs like this. Someone who would keep the others on the ship from hurting you. But no..." He shook his head. "No, you have to insult and atagonize your betters." "I do not want your patronage. I do not want the Regent's patronage, nor do I wish for the patronage of any other Elasian. I merely to be left alone to my cleaning." He sneered at her. "As you wish, then, slave. And if you take so much pleasure in it..." With one sweep he knocked all of the clean glassware back into the case. You may start again. And this time, clean them properly." She spoke quietly, belying her frustration. "Those were cleaned properly, Sir. I ask you not involve yourself in matters not your affair." "One swipe with a dirty rag doesn't make them clean." He smirked lazily, folding his arms across his chest. "Even a slave as blind and stupid as you should be able to tell that." "Surely insults are beneath you. Most of the other men on this ship can do without." "It's not an insult if it's true, pet." "I am not," she whispered through tightly closed teeth, "your pet." A wicked smile grew on his face. "Sweet pet," he said, sauntered closer to her. "Pretty pet." One hand stroked her hair, a little too firmly to be pleasant. "Tame pet." One fist balled at her side, and the Xenexian dug dull nails into her palm to keep from unleashing the blow due the scum. "Please, stop now." "All you need is a little collar and leash to complete the picture," he told her, stooping to whisper in her ear. "Cute little pet walking to heel." She turned her head to his, drawing back slightly out of disgust. "Do you have a deathwish, Elasian?" The smile remained on his lips, but his eyes darkened. "You seem to," he replied. "Remember which of us is the slave, Xenexian." He spat the word as though it were an obscenity. She pretended to think about it for a moment before nodding. "Is it me?" Her face brightened slightly in a farce. "I do so love fifty-fifties. I seem to have good luck guessing the correct answer!" "Good for you," growled the Elasian. "Now, perhaps you'd like to guess whether or not you'll wind up getting yourself whipped?" "No, you wouldn't have the nerve to lay a whip across a slave your Lord Regent hand-selected." "I won't need to, if he hears of this." She silently chided herself, bringing her temper down a level. "Is that necessary?" "You tell me.... pet." "No." It was unclear, from her voice, whether it was an answer, or a tired reprimand for the continuation of the 'title's' usage. He placed a finger beneath her chin, tilting her face up. "If you were sweeter, pet, we could put this behind us." "Sweet?" she asked, disbelievingly. "I think you mistake me for the Risan that I saw wandering about the other day." Shaking his head sadly, he stepped back. "And here I was beginning to think you were clever after all. Best get back to work, pet; the Regent will want to see you soon, I'm sure." He waved jauntily at her as he turned away. She didn't reply, just sat there, annoyed, a trifle insulted, and most of all, starting to worry just a bit about the oft-malevolent concept of repercussions. (Many thanks to my cowriter, Colonel Harper, for playing the Elasian baddie. :-) )