Victria

I feel a great disturbance in the Force, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced.

This is the best log you've ever written. LOL

Deck 18. Mark and Victria moved silently moves through the shadows like oil on water. They had been tracking transient sensor contacts for the last twenty minutes, and over three decks. Whoever it was certainly didn't want to be found, which only formed a pit in Garrison's stomach. The majority of the crew were by now in their quarters, awaiting blood screens to prove that they weren't changlings. It didn't help matters that the changling theory didn't really hold up in his book, with the evidence, and Victria's own words that she hadn't scented them...or anything the last time they had tried to track a contact down. Still, the impending doom possible around every corner was better than the scene he'd just gotten out of in sickbay. Doctor Zier must have just had her baby, because as he and Victria had walked in, there was crying, screaming, and various fluids all over. With nothing out of the ordinary, they had left, but after seeing Victria with a newborn, the phrase "Fresh Tapped" took new meaning to him. Victria paused as they neared the next corridor junction, either scenting or hearing something that piqued her interest. She had been extremely disgruntled when Mark had pulled her away from the appetizing smells in Sickbay, but she was fairly certain that no one would have let her sample newborn innocence anyhow. Still, the momentary thought had been entertaining. Back on the Hunt, her thoughts and senses were fixed firmly on their current prey, even though she'd seen no signs of intruders. There was something happening and she was fairly certain that it had nothing to do with changlings. There were no traces of changlings. She would have caught their stink lightyears away. Her lips curled back off her fangs as she peered around the corner and discovered... absolutely nothing. Attention snapping back to Mark, she growled. "This is pointless. We are tracking ghosts." "Maybe..." He trailed off as he poked his head around a corner, searching for hostiles in the corridor, but finding nothing. "If it is, we're at least avoiding the shipwide hysteria of a potential changling incursion, or whatever." He frowned as he looked back to her, his true worries surfacing. "But assume these sensor contacts are real. We tracked them through almost all of Deck 17. They left both the deflector and environmental controls untouched, why? Whoever it is, they know the ship well enough to have avoided us this long, but why not sabotage?" "If not sabotage, then what? They have to be here for some purpose." She rounded the corner and continued, checking her data padd for the next reported sighting. "I've entered the data into the computer a hundred different ways and there is no pattern to these appearances. No significant ship or security breaches and no instances of violence or attacks... only sightings. And conversations. Hallucinations?" "Possibly." Mark hated to be so...perplexing, but they really had no idea what was going on. Hell, even he'd been sighted running around with LtCdr pips on. "Still, I was never married, and I doubt Geoff hallucinated that." A moment of sorrow and regret stabbed at his mind, but he pushed the thoughts of her away. Now was not the time. As they passed the sections where the secondary shield generators were kept, Victria paused again and peered down the empty corridor behind them. "This isn't right... something is..." She let the sentence trail off, unable to put a name to the odd feelings she was getting. "We should move to another deck. There is nothing here of much importance save environmental controls. Most of the sightings have been in the areas most frequented by the crew." He considered the options a moment before nodding in agreement. "Alright, lead the way. This is turning into one massive goose chase." Deck 5. Entering the empty Main Lounge was an eerie sensation. Tables and chairs had been left in disarray, hastily abandoned as crewmen were ordered to report to their quarters until all testing could be completed. Standing just inside the door, the two of them scanned the area quickly, but results were as uninformative as those previously taken. They separated and headed around the perimeter in opposite directions to cover the area more quickly, working in tandem as expertly trained security officers should. Once the circuit was completed, Victria closed her tricorder and shoved it back into her belt, peering at Mark to see if he'd found anything. Feeling uneasy still, she glanced around the room again, wondering if there was something unseen in the room or if she were simply going mad. He glanced around the room, like her looking for threats as he moved over to where she was standing. Something just didn't feel right. Off key, or something like that, ever since they'd gotten back from shoreleave. Of course, all this overtime running around with her was a nice plus, but in a situation like this, he knew which head he had to think with. "You feel it too?" "Yes,” she hissed, turning at the sound of the door opening behind them. Mark Garrison stood in front of her. And Mark Garrison stood behind her. Everyone froze. In the hallway, a second Victria appeared, yelled in fury, and then all hell broke loose. Victria – the real version – grabbed the Mark-intruder by the uniform and flung him behind her into the lounge for his double to handle. Though the movement took no more than a split-second, she did not have enough time to prevent an attack from her own twin. A well-placed punch impacted with her jaw and sent her staggering. Garrison. Mark, the real Mark, looked like a deer in the headlights. He didn't even have time to smirk at Victria's hiss before well, things stopped making sense. A door opened, and at the other end stood him...but not him, obviously. The other had a beard and an artificial right arm. Before Garrison even had time to react, his bearded double was flying at him, sending both crashing to the floor. Both Marks were up by then and had settled into their stance, both wielding their custom phaser pistols and combat knives. They awkwardly circled each other, having ended up the cluttered tables and chairs of the dining area. They stared each other down, trying to make sense of the situation. The bearded Mark attacked first with a ferocity the other didn't know he had. However, the other had over extended himself. The original parried the knife strike and used the momentum to bring his elbow into the others ribs, eliciting a lung-emptying gasp from him. In the end though, it was the original Mark who fell into the trap. Allowing himself to take the shot to the ribs, the other Garrison held Mark at a disadvantage. He pressed it, wrapping his right leg around our Garrison's while pushing him forward, sending Mark crashing to the ground with an 'Oof!.’ He quickly rolled back, out of the tables into the open standing area by the door. He reset his stance while fighting the urge to glance back at the Victria's fight. This time they got a good opportunity to observe each other. The other Mark was completely identical to him, sans the beard and replacement arm. His eyes were cold, at least colder then he thought his looked. Garrison found himself distracted, wondering how it was even possible. There was no way this was a changeling. He knew CQC as well as he did, it was almost like staring into a mirror. Determining how was an issue for the science department though. Right now, the other him was a hostile, and had to be treated as such. It wasn't really him anyways, no matter what the hell this turned out to be. Garrison rushed his doppelganger grabbing his right arm, pulling the other to him while bringing his knee into his stomach. He then continued his pull, sidestepping as the bearded one fell to the ground. The other one rose swiftly however, and lunged at Garrison again. Obviously Mark had misjudged him. He seemed to understand the basic principle, but he left himself open in too many places. Mark let himself fall backwards into the attack, raising his left arm to block the other one's right arm, which was thrusting at him with the knife. He quickly thrust the knife that was in his free hand between the bearded ones left ribs, collapsing his lung. As they landed, he jerked the knife out and rolled the other Mark over who was violently gasping. He hurriedly rolled on top of him, pushing the knife up into his heart, ending the torment. Mark instantly jumped off, this reasoning doing nothing to help the disturbing nature of what he'd just done. He took two shaky steps back as he stared at his double, eyes vacantly staring at the ceiling. A long moment passed before Victria suddenly flashed forward in his mind, and his eyes darted around the lounge, trying to find her. Victria. Enraged, Victria had righted herself and returned the attack, grabbing her other self and spinning her into the room where she had room to maneuver. The two versions crouched identically, staring across the space at one another. There were subtle differences in their manner and clothing, but there was no doubt that both of them were Victria. They hissed at the same moment and attacked, though both shifted in the same direction and countered each other easily, ending where they'd started. Two sets of eyes narrowed identically. Elsewhere in the room, she heard the sounds of Mark’s battle but had no time to spare him a glance. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. But could she? How could she battle someone that knew what move she was going to make before she made it? She studied her counterpart carefully, only slightly disconcerted at being scrutinized in the same manner. This was no changling. The only explanation was that she was from an alternate reality. Rationally thinking, Victria decided that when the most effective reaction was no longer effective, the ineffective must be the logical choice. Rather than launch another attack, she straightened slowly into a non-threatening posture. Her twin seemed confused. Victria smiled, baring her fangs at the other, not in greeting but as a warning to maintain her distance. “You are Victria?” “Yes. Victria?” “Naturally,” she replied. “They rescued you.” “Captured, you mean,” her twin hissed back. She grabbed the collar about her neck and ripped it free. “Captured, enslaved, and subjugated. On my ship, removal of this device would have caused an immediate response from security.” “An Al-Ucard enslaved without fighting to the death?” Victria arched an eyebrow, surprised. “I doubt that you were taken willingly,” she spat. “I was given a choice to live or die. I chose to live and wait for my chance to escape.” “An unwise gamble, it seems.” “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” They continued to watch each other warily; neither wanting to look away for fear the other would take advantage of the momentary lapse. The tension grew as the sounds of Mark’s fight continued. Violent gasping coming from his general direction made it impossible to continue their standoff, however. They both glanced over at the same moment, just in time to watch Mark kill his counterpart. Victria stared, opened mouthed, amazed by the look of viciousness in Mark’s eyes as he killed his double. Distracted, she missed her own twin’s movement until it was too late. The collar snapped around her neck and she was shoved forward. She fell to her knees next to the corpse of the pseudo-Mark Garrison. “Kill her!” Victria’s double shouted. Eyes wide, she watched in disbelief at Mark as he leveled his phaser at her head. The choice. Garrison's eyes bore into hers as he sheathed his knife. His eyes darted between the two Victrias as he stepped to side with the one standing, keeping his weapon aimed at the kneeling version. His grip on the phaser tightened as he leaned his head toward the uncollared Victria. "How do I know it's you?" His eyes were still cold as steel, ready to strike in a moment’s notice. "Can't you tell?" both Victrias asked in unison, wearing the same glare. He turned his head to shoot a glance at her, before slowly returning his attention to the collared one. The other Victria's eyes turned to her kneeling duplicate for a fraction of a second, giving him the momentary distraction he needed. He moved his left leg behind her and then grabbed her wrist, violently pulling her backwards. As she tripped and fell he turned, baring his phaser on her chest and stunning her before she hit the ground. He'd killed his copy. They needed someone to provide answers as to what the hell was going on. Mark let out a small sigh as he turned back to the real Victria, extending a hand down to her to help her to her feet. "I guess she never considered a universe where she'd bonded with a human." She took his hand, quickly being pulled up. "That was risky." He shrugged as they both searched for the releasing mechanism on the collar. "I knew who was who the moment I saw you both. If you wanted someone dead, you would kill them yourself, weapon or no weapon… not wait for me to do it. Besides, this way I was able to deliver the first strike." He found the trigger behind her neck. The collar quickly popped off and fell unceremoniously to the ground. They locked eyes for a moment, the ferocity in his replaced with his usual calm. "I’ll contact the bridge. Segami and the Captain are going to need to see this." “They had better hurry if they want a look before these two disappear. Whatever is causing this phenomenon is extremely random.” She bent to grab the collar at her feet, turning it over in her hands as she studied the technology. The smallest of smirks traced the corner of his mouth as he tapped his comm badge, if only at the sheer irony of it all. Every day on this ship seemed to get a little bit stranger.

::Snickers.:: I'm going to have to start using that word now... bestialize. How appropriate.

Security Departmental Memo From: Lieutenant j.g. Victria, House of Mordan To: Lieutenant Commander Atticus Segami, Chief of Security CC: Captain Ah-Windu Corizon, Commanding Officer; Commander MVess JoNs, Second Officer RE: Reconnaissance and Surveillance Training A thorough search of the security database has revealed that the information and training techniques available to the average security officer are severely insufficient. I have compiled a training program based on standard procedures of which your officers should already be aware, along with several exercises of my own devising that I have extracted from personal experiences and knowledge. Subject matters will cover (but not be limited to) the following: Basics in observation Information gathering techniques Data transmission devices Ship reconnaissance and surveillance Special-Operations team reconnaissance and surveillance These sessions will be given twice a week for a full two months to all security officers (with each officer being required to attend only one of the provided classes per week), regardless of rank or position. Classes will last approximately one hour, with the final class extending to two hours as trainees will be required to participate in a live-action simulation to test their knowledge. Scores will be assessed based on aptitude and will be delivered for review and determination. Should these training sessions prove to be valuable, they could easily be adapted to other departments that might sometimes be needed during reconnaissance fieldwork. Attached is the proposed lesson plan along with a suggested duty roster for security to better balance the workload while training is in session. The first lesson is scheduled in two days at 0900 hours in Holodeck Two. End Memo ---------------------------------------------- And so began her stint as a trainer. Though teaching was not foreign to her, Victria was none too happy with the prospect. She disliked sharing the knowledge and techniques that had taken her years to gather and perfect. In her opinion, her students were being cheated of the opportunity to learn for themselves, but there was little she could on that account. Humans were short-lived by comparison and had little time to waste. Thus far, however, the group of Ensigns in her first class was failing miserably and over the simplest tasks. Their attempts also seemed half-hearted at best, which was beginning to enrage her. “Enough!” she growled, which brought the muttering to a grinding halt. Pacing in front of the milling officers, she glared at those nearest to her. “Some of you might consider these classes a waste of time, but I assure you that they are vital to your duty as a security officer aboard this ship. Who else will save this ship from preventable disaster if you refuse to be vigilant?” “That is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Benjamin Chou asked, though he blanched as her attention swung his way and he remembered who was conducting the lesson. “No, only realistic,” she snapped, scowling at him. “Dramatic would be me telling you that I am going to systematically remove your internal organs and eat them if you venture forth another sarcastic comment.” “I… uh… understand. Please, continue,” he stammered. “Sir.” “This class is about the basic techniques and operations in which each of you should already have a small measure of training. Our next exercise requires visual stimulation. Computer, begin program seven, cycle two.” A few feet in front of the group, a holographic woman appeared and began to walk toward them, smiling. She was attractive for a simulation and had been specially programmed to induce particular responses in the male gender. Her clothing was minimal and left nothing to the imagination. She sauntered a few steps away and cocked one hip out when she paused, red-lacquered nails drumming suggestively on the curve. Long lashes swept her cheeks as she batted them, flirting with the small group. Victria waited patiently for a few moments as the officers to get their fill. Several of them were staring outright, admiring the woman’s assets. However, some of the female officers were becoming restless and were not bothering to hide their disgust. Deciding they’d had plenty of time to study her hologram, Victria called for an end to the simulation. She heard a groan of disappointment from the rear of the group. “Very well… can anyone give me any details about the female?” “She was ah… human,” one male commented. “And… healthy looking,” another added. “And gorgeous,” Chou quipped. “Human is assumed. You have no facts as to her origin, other than she appears humanoid. As to the others, they are generalities and not details. What else?” Victria peered pointedly at some of the female officers. “She was tattooed. Property of the Marakadi Triad,” Sue Martin said dryly. “Tattoo? Where? I didn’t see a tattoo,” Chou said. “Exactly,” Victria replied, turning her gaze to Benjamin. “Oh,” he muttered dumbly. “She was also carrying several kilos of high-grade explosives,” Marcus Boseman said firmly. “How in the hell could you tell that?” Sid Langer turned to stare in disbelief. “I was too busy looking at her breasts.” “Me too,” Marcus commented with a slight smirk. “And I noticed that they were enhanced.” “So? To me, that is a beautiful thing,” Sid replied, smiling back. “I encourage that whenever possible.” “You are an idiot,” Jana Neri said, rolling her eyes. “That may be, but I’m still at a loss at how Golden Boy over there came to the conclusion that she was carrying explosives just because she had breast implants.” “The tattoo? Enhancements? Does that not sound familiar?” Jana asked. “She has the mark of the Marakadi Triad, which means she’s probably one of their agents, known in many sectors for turning themselves into walking time bombs.” “She’s going to blow people up with her boobs?” Sid seemed impressed. Ignoring the comment, Jana continued. “Her job is to infiltrate one of their targets, usually a high ranking official, and blow him up, usually destroying his ship or complex in the process as well as taking out whatever attendants he has.” “Very good, Ensign.” Victria nodded at Jana then glanced back to Sid. “Which means if you spent the evening with her, it would most likely end in your death, along with the death of everyone that worked for you.” “At least I’d die a happy man.” “Idiot,” Sue and Jana muttered in unison. “I am pleased with your conclusions, though not a single one of you managed to detect the true danger,” Victria frowned. “While you were ogling the Triad agent, her counterparts approached silently from behind.” All of the Ensigns turned quickly and their jaws dropped as they realized that three assassins with weapons drawn had been standing behind them during the entire conversation. Suddenly, the phasers discharged, striking the group in a single massive energy blast. Shouts of surprise and outrage rose as the Ensigns reeled from the very physical pain. “That bloody hurt!” Benjamin yelled, rubbing his chest where the blast struck him. “It was supposed to,” Victria replied calmly. “Congratulations. All of you are now dead. Incidentally, I have lowered the safety settings in here, and they will decrease minutely each session. If your actions end in death, you will feel the consequences acutely.” “That isn’t ethical!” Jana protested. “Torture of a Starfleet officer is against regulations.” “You have no idea what true torture involves,” Victria said darkly, her tone daring any of them to make the comparison again. “Failure is not an option. That slight reminder might one day save your life.” “This session is concluded for today. I suggest you read the assigned material that awaits you on your panels even now, as you will likely need it for your next class.” She paused, her eyes taking in each one of her subjects. “Your schedules have been updated to reflect our next session. I expect you to be punctual. You are dismissed.” She watched as they filed out and sighed as the door closed behind the last trainee. “And the Ensigns were supposed to be the easiest,” she muttered. “Mordan grant me the strength to survive these next two months without ripping out someone’s throat.”

c) Impressively lacking in social skills a) Almost every shift or whenever I need a bite to eat. a) Lt. Cdr. Tandaris Admiran's parasite c) Infallible, if by infallible you mean horrible. (So...beautifully incompetent...no words can describe) b) Completely un-Satisfied (System is wholly repaired, with no faults except that it still doesn't work) c) ::No Words......an engineer is talking to me... overwhelming feelings of rage and hunger have come over me:: c) Only if my superior officer hasn't caught on to me feeding on the junior officers a) Jobs take slightly longer than preferred due to perfect blundering of repairs as opposed to adequate repairs c) Increase engineers' pension plans, sick leave, off-time and decrease their general work day to a maximum of four hours per twenty-four hour day if it will actually get them to get off their butts and work once in a while. d) What department was this for again?

Now, I'm rather offended by that directive. Not because it isn't true, mind you. But because it is totally going to ruin all of my fun. ::grin:: ~ Vic P.S. I can't make any promises when it comes to drunken Orions that antagonize me. Those are outside of the law.

Looks like the next member of the Excalibur crew to me. We have a Dog, Cats, a Vampire, and -for a moment- a Zombie. Why not a snake-monster? :D

"We are bound, the two of us, in a way that few humans can comprehend,” she explained. “Though not as fully as we might have been if you were Al-Ucard. There are things that you could ask of me that I would provide, such as the ritual of death, advice in times of trouble, or aid if injured." She hesitated again, frustrated at her poor ability to translate. "These are things you may ask of me or I of you." He had always sensed there was more to this blood pact then she'd let on. At the time he hadn't thought of it much, but now it bothered him little. He had taken it seriously, hadn't he? Where as most people built a relationship from the ground up, he was now seeking to understand the skyscraper already in place. "What is this...ritual of death?" "If you feel the need to end your life, I will take it for you." Simply put. There were certain circumstances when one of her own found it difficult to live, either injured or maimed beyond their own ability to heal. "And if I ask it of you, I would expect the same in return." He nodded more in understanding then agreement. He had no desire to kill her, but that was a bridge best left crossed later. "All right...and these things we may ask of each other?" "Most are simple and are things that you would freely give to those you consider a friend... advice, aid, assistance. Others are clan related. For example, if you were ever involved in a dispute that required retribution, I would kill if needed." "As I would for you." He blinked. Did he just say that? Did he mean it? It was official; a relationship with her grew in oddity and complexity at an exponential rate. "I knew that this pact would bond us in some way, but I never thought so deeply. I have to ask...why choose to do it, you, knowing the full meaning? I mean, you barely knew me." "I was mostly curious to see if it would work with a human. I could sense your attraction and your curiosity, and I was feeling particularly wicked. You were eager to learn of my people, so I thought to give you a unique experience. I did not realize how total the bond might be, as your mental abilities differ from my own." Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I must ask you this before I go any further... Have you experienced any sudden onset of emotion that you could not explain?" "At times..." He sighed. It was hard enough to admit to himself, let alone to her. It was all so...unexplainable. Was that what drew him to her? "Yes. Why? What does it mean?" "I have been experiencing your emotions. Only the strongest of them, but I know they are not mine. Tonight, while seething over other matters, my mood changed abruptly. I was not certain if you were attuned to mine as I am to yours. As I said before, your mental abilities differ." His brow furrowed as he mulled over this new information. Was that why the thoughts of his father were already distant in the back of his mind? Was that how she knew of his attraction? "I've noticed something of the same thing...but not as distinct. Just...emotions I found confusing to have when I had them. I just thought it was stress..." "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Whichever the case, I thought you should be aware. Such a bond can be dissolved. It is your choice to make. I used you to satisfy my own curiosity, and for that I apologize." She rose gracefully from the couch. "Now that you are fully aware of what this entails, I shall leave you to decide if you wish to be rid of it." Just as quickly as she finished speaking he rose. "No." Like oil on shadows he silently moved in front of her, grabbing the wrist he had tasted her from, then putting her hand on his. He could almost taste it now, so much so that he had to swallow. "Together in the hunt." He stared into her eyes, tried to see through them, hoping she would do the same. Hoping she knew he meant it. Though surprised by his sudden movement, she did not jerk away. She met his gaze evenly and held it for several long moments. Finally, she nodded understanding and feeling his sincerity in that moment. As he released her, she drew away, fingers trailing lightly across his wrist before they broke apart. Her eyes had darkened slightly at his proximity and she struggled to suppress the hunger that rose to the surface. Whether of her own regard or from the Orion's accusations, she was not going to let her instincts to feed control her every waking moment. She nodded slightly, unable to speak. Mark nodded in return, watching as she moved to the door. "You should know, you're stuck with me for the long haul. I don't break promises." "I would have understood if you had changed your mind,” she said quietly, still facing the door. “But I am pleased that you did not." "Thank you..." It hardly seemed adequate, but they were the only words she knew that would come close to what she felt. Then, embarrassed by her moment of weakness, she left quickly without looking back.

It was late. Late enough that he should be going to sleep, but thoughts of the trapped pilots, the science team, and other things kept him from any rest. Instead he sat in his chair, strumming his guitar, trying to find something that sounded right. Annoyingly, the door chimes rang, providing a discordant tone that one couldn't help but notice. Without waiting for his permission, the doors opened and she slipped inside, out of uniform and in her usual black. She was restless, he could tell, her body radiating unease. The doors slid closed, but Mark sat still for a moment, watching Victria in the darkness around his entryway. He knew it was her, how could it not be? "Come in." His voice was soft, but had a small amount of sarcasm to it. Half asking her to make herself at home, half remarking on her uninvited entry. "You were taking too long," she replied, moving to make herself comfortable on his couch. "I could tell you were awake. Am I interrupting?" She indicated the guitar on his lap with a raised eyebrow. He glanced down at the instrument, putting it down and resting it against his chair. "No, not at all. I haven't gotten a chance to play since the Excalibur launched; I was beginning to feel a little rusty." He quickly looked over to her. "Can I get you something to-" He paused mid-sentence, his brow furrowing. "Can you drink liquids?" She smiled at his inadequate phrasing. "Physically? Yes. But I find most humanoid drinks revolting." Her eyes had grown dark with hunger, but she hadn't come with the intention of feeding. "You don't have to stop playing on my account. I'm curious to know what the creation of music provides for your kind." A small smile formed in the corner of his mouth as he picked the guitar up again. Few humans had taste for the device anymore, and fewer aliens had any desire to listen to human musical instruments. "I actually wrote this myself...but it's been a couple years since I played it, so you'll have to forgive any sloppiness." His fingers lightly grazed the strings before he began. It was a slow and deep tune. His face held deep concentration, but his eyes and other body language gave away his emotions as he played. Sorrow, anger, but most of all regret. He played for several minutes before stopping abruptly. "Sorry, it's not finished yet. Still a work in progress." She frowned at him; confused by music and the effect it had on him. "This... composition has some sort of deep meaning for you? Your emotional state changed drastically while you were playing." "Yeah..." He trailed off, glancing down at the guitar, his features still somewhat depressed. "Music can often be a medium for telling stories, or an outlet for emotions. I wrote this after my father was diagnosed with Irumodic Syndrome." "I am not familiar with that disease." She was still frowning, studying the nuances of his features. She could "taste" his emotions as his chemical makeup changed, though she could not always discern what he was experiencing. This one she had felt before, however, from many of the humans on the ship. It tasted of defeat. His face scrunched up slightly, trying to find the words. This was something he rarely talked about. "It's.... It's a neurological disorder. In simplest terms...the brain literally decays away. The person experiences memory loss...loss of cognitive and reasoning abilities..." He paused, a sharp sniff pulling though his nose and clearing his throat. "Tobias Garrison was a spectacular officer, a great man, and an even better father. But now...he lies in a bed on Earth, slowly losing what is left of his mind." "And there is no cure?" She found it difficult to empathize with him, as she had never known disease or illness. Death was a daily constant and with that she could relate -- death of someone with whom she had bonded, death of those in her clan, and the needless deaths of her people. "It is difficult for you to see him in that state?" He didn't say anything, the look on his face said enough. "It's not a fitting end. Before I joined the Excalibur...I had left Star Fleet for a year to care for him. I watched him slowly change from my father into a man who screamed and threw things at me, because he couldn't remember I was his own son. I wonder now if he even could remember his own name." "And you left him because there was nothing you could do for him?" She shifted on the couch, the intensity of his emotional outpouring somewhat unsettling. "That was wise. It is better that you be engaged in your own future than be forced to helplessly watch his come to an end." It wasn't the most comforting thought, but it was painfully truthful. He let out a small chuckle, unsure as to why the moment he did. If it had been anyone other than her he probably would have done something about the comment. "Sad thing is, you're right. My father died when he was first diagnosed. His mind is simply waiting for his body to catch up." He looked at her, into her eyes for the first time since he began the song. "But why play the song if it only reminds you of your pain?" Her uncanny eyes remained fixed upon him, holding his gaze as he glanced up. "Is it not customary for your kind to seek out pleasant experiences and shy from those that cause hurt?" "For some humans yes. The way I see it, to deny the pain, to deny the memory would be to deny part of yourself. It would dishonor him to deny him in such a way." "A valid point. We must always remember the fallen, if only to pass their stories to the next generation. Their wisdom is ours to know, by book or blood." Her meaning didn't quite translate to the human existence, but the sentiment was the same. He smiled at her, being that was the only thing he knew he could do at the moment. "I almost forgot, why'd you stop by this late anyway?" "It wasn't important. I was mostly restless and, as I require little sleep, I thought you might be good company." In truth, she had been up thinking about some of Segami's decisions and wanted to rant to someone that would understand. Her anger had faded in reaction to his mood, but she was still restless, searching for something she couldn't pinpoint. "Your heart rate was too irregular for you to be asleep and as I heard no one else with you, I chanced that you wouldn't mind." "Of course I wouldn't." He sensed there was something more than a simple desire for company, Victria was hardly known as sociable. "I've just seen that you rarely do anything without reason, or purpose." "You are observant in that regard." Brows drawn together, she looked away for the first time since she had entered his quarters. Leaning back on his couch, she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. "There are many things that trouble me in the dark hours of the night, but I am not accustomed to sharing my private life. Anger is a different matter, as it needs an outlet lest I do something the Captain might regret. You will often find me prowling the ship during this shift as I have few other distractions to keep my sanity intact. Being ever surrounded by those that rouse my natural instincts does not make it any easier." "You could always come here." His tone was careful and controlled. She'd already called him out on his attraction for her, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin their friendship, if it could be described as that. "If something's bothering you, and you don't wish to speak about it, I can understand. But if you do, just find me. Anytime, day or night." "I shall keep that in mind." She paused as she glanced back to him, mulling over exactly how much she should reveal about the blood pact he had so lightly made. "There is something particular about which I wished to speak with you, but was not certain that I could explain in ways that you would understand.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do you remember when we first met -- the pact that was made?" "Yes, I do." His eyes betrayed him, and glanced down to the wrist she had used. Though completely healed over now, he could still see in his mind's eye where the bite mark had been. As he glanced up, he wondered if he should be worried about her expression. "What about it?" Continued...

Mark stood in the doorway of sickbay and glanced back one last time. The room was mostly empty, only a few beds where occupied by those critically injured during the previous fireworks. He had waited well past things had settled, not seeing to himself until everything and everyone else was squared away. It was only a bump on the head anyway. He probably wouldn't have even gone if it weren't for Victria's chiding. He held for another moment, before turning and heading into the corridor. He had to get back to security and file his report. "Feeling better?" The voice came from behind him as Victria approached unseen and unheard. She matched his stride as they moved in the direction of the turbolift. Blue eyes shifted sidelong to study him, rising briefly to where the injury to his head had been. "I am.” She'd surprised him, though he didn't show it. As they walked he glanced at a pair of engineers servicing a wall panel, briefly wondering if it too had been damaged. That seemed the worst of it. From his understanding, nothing had been badly damaged -- just small pin pricks of chaos all over the ship. It was a gentle reminder of what the unexpected held. “And I'd imagine you must feel better as well, now that you no longer have the need to remind me that I'm injured." A small smirk rose from the corner of his lips, but nothing more. "So long as you are able to function properly, you will hear nothing from me." One brow quirked upward. "It has been my observation that most Federation officers will stubbornly ignore their injuries, even after the battle is over. Is it pride that keeps you from seeking help even if your wounds impact your work?" She called the lift once they’d reached it and turned to face him while they waited. "I'm a security officer. It's my job to ensure the security of everyone on this ship. My pride comes from knowing that everyone is safe, everything is as it should be. If that means at the cost of my own well being ... so be it." He glanced away, suddenly feeling awkward. He wasn't one to talk about himself so often, but her open curiosity was surprisingly disarming. "It seems that my life has become a never-ending succession of foreign concepts,” she mused to herself. "I am not accustomed to being responsible for anyone except myself. To hold such … emotion ... for each person on this ship, some whom you have not met, is a truly strange concept. Tell me, do you care when someone on this ship dies, even if they were not in your department and you did not interact with them on a daily basis?" His brow furrowed as he mulled over the thought. "It depends. If it's someone I've never met before ... no, not really. I guess I'm not attached to the specific people on the ship, but rather to the whole community." As the lift arrived, she stepped inside, resting her attention on him again. "That is something I can more easily understand. Are you going back to security or are you interested in joining me for a meal?" Her tongue swept across one of her fangs as though to remind herself that they were still there. "Of course I would." He said as he stepped in beside her. There was no rush for him to return to security immediately. He'd never tell her, but he filed the report he’d promised Segami an hour before he’d gone to sickbay. But he'd learned never to reprimand women for being wrong in their actions, more so when the said women could kill you. "Mess hall." He quickly added, remembering they were still waiting. "When are you scheduled to meet with Atticus now that he has returned to normal duty?" She'd yet to have her discussion with their chief and was more than a little annoyed that he was still avoiding her. Soon, she would take matters into her own hands as she had so many times before. "I am sure he will be more than pleased to hear how you helped to keep things moving in security while he was away." "I'm not sure. He'll probably contact me whenever he wants to meet me. I suspect it's going to be more about my suggestions about upgrading security from when we launched. We never got to discuss it before his ... disappearance." The decks flew by until they were deposited not far from main mess. “I see. I would be interested to hear the outcome of your conversation.” Her gaze narrowed a fraction as they left the lift behind. She was still getting covert looks from random people she passed and it made her wonder what new rumor was circulating. The mess hall was not at all busy. She assumed most of the crew was either injured in sick bay, in their quarters attending to their wounds, or resting while they had the chance. With a brief glance around, she made her way to the bank of replicators to order a drink. It wasn't as satisfying as the fresh she'd had recently, but she didn't really have a choice in the matter. Mark walked up to the replicator, punching in his own personal food specifications. What could best be described as "tunaroni" on ancient Earth appeared. He gave it a sniff with a satisfied smile. He glanced to her as she eyed a passing crewman who was stupid enough to stare right back. "Don't let it bother you. At least your rumors strike fear into them, not fear of a rash." Victria let out a single burst of laughter, amused that even he had heard the stories. "It has not and will never bother me. There are very few things that do. Rather, I find it amusing. Some of the younger crewmen look as though they expect me to attack them at any moment." Her gaze swept over the tables again, searching for the three males from security that had previously addressed her, but they were not in attendance. His fork dug into the food, a pleasant smile left behind as he swallowed. "Some of them find the thought oddly ... erotic,” he said, his tone plain as he took another forkful into his mouth. Sipping at her drink in the seat across from him, her wandering attention snapped to him at his comment. "On Al-Ucard, it is rarely so. Nourishment is violently taken from the Lucam prey we've captured and there is little emotion involved beyond rage -- only the rising desire to feast on those inferior to us." Little had changed in that regard. Would he wonder if she felt humans were beneath her? He watched her closely, gauging the emotions on her face. "No doubt on your end, but I doubt that these particular men truly understand what it means to be ... fed on." He smirked. "Some men are just attracted to danger." "Men like you." It wasn't a question, for she knew exactly what he felt. "Men like Segami. I think that most of the people in your department would also admit to such, as dangerous as the job is to which they willingly dedicated themselves." Humans were such a strange breed. His face was decidedly neutral, even though she'd just called him out. There was a difference between attraction and infatuation however, and for the moment he was content to be placed in the limelight of the Laarell-Victria-Segami scandal, as it could be best described. "You'll find in time that humans can be attracted to ... well ... anything. Sometimes I can even find it unbelievable, and they're my species." She smirked at his comments and drained her cup, licking a line of crimson from her lips as she placed the glass on the table. "I will certainly keep the propensity of human males in mind as I seek out my daily meals. It would not do to have six or seven of them trailing after me in hopes of an encounter." Pushing her chair out, she stood smoothly. "I have things I must see to before I return to security. As always, the conversation has been extremely enlightening." He gave her a genuine smile. "And also for me. As always, it was a pleasure." He watched her leave, his eyes on her until she was out of sight. He peered down at his food, twirling the fork around in it, then looked at his wrist chrono to check the time. Rising voices caught his attention. He glanced over at the crewman who was staring at Victria earlier, the officer now in an animated conversation with his fellows over what Mark could only guess. Yep. You sure know how to pick'em Mark.

Lt. (jg) Louis Beckman> "But I'm allergic! I just now got the cat hair off the chairs from the *last* time she was in security!"

"Do you think it foolish that the Commander went planet-side in a first contact situation without taking any of her own security? Or is that standard policy?" Victria lunged unexpectedly, driving her fist into Mark’s midsection. He parried the blow, jumping a couple steps back. He wiped the couple beads of sweat from his brow as he reset his stance. "Sometimes. The Commander may have been trying to convince them that we're no threat to them. To gain their trust. Problem is, we need their cooperation to explore these ruins, and hope that they give us some answers on this quest to find the Founders. Which means we're all going to have to play kiss ass." Unrelenting, she pressed him further as he retreated, firing off several strikes to test his reaction time. Her brow furrowed slightly at his response. "And if they had not been friendly and had taken her captive or killed her? How would the Captain have responded?" Her blue gaze remained fixed on his eyes, tracking his movements in her periphery. He allowed one of the strikes to land, leaving her open on one side. He grabbed her arm, pulling her in, locking their legs into each other. "I don't deal with 'what-ifs'. There's no point in reevaluating the past. Corizon and JoN's gambled, and succeeded." "I wasn't asking for your opinion. I was asking about procedure." Rather than fight the move, she embraced it, pulling him closer so that she could collapse his knee and throw him off balance. As they hit the ground, she rolled away, striking out with her elbow as she disengaged. He hit the ground with a small ‘oof’, rolling out and resetting himself again, slowly circling her. "Well, if they had captured her, obviously we'd attempt a rescue, but that's always a shot in the dark as to whether or not it will work. If they killed her, then they'd more than likely mean to attack, and by now either we'd be dead, or they would. It's Starfleet policy to seek peaceful relations above all else. We won't be fighting them until every other option has been exhausted." "Interesting, though not at all how I would handle the situation." The slight smile she wore hinted that it was probably better that he didn't know what she was thinking. "Have you seen the crew lists of those chosen to go planet-side? I know they are allowing security with the away teams, probably to keep them out of trouble rather than protecting them from the HaVorante. If I'm expected to go, I'll have to take special MEASURES." Her last word came out in a rush as she leapt into action again, this time extending her reach by releasing a flurry of kicks intended to knock him down once more. Mark grabbed her leg, using her momentum against her, throwing them both to the ground and pinning himself on top of her. "What sort of measures are you talking about? You cause me enough paperwork as is with your... I don't know with Commander Teykier." "I cannot withstand ultraviolet light for long periods of time. You should have read that in my bio.” She gazed up at him, wondering if he thought he had neutralized her. “Also, I possess strength greater than the typical human. That, too, you should have also read. This tactic would be ineffective against a male of my species." Her legs wrapped around his stomach and she squeezed, threatening to shatter his lower ribs. She bared her fangs as she smiled. "And Commander Teykier asked for it." His eyes bulged and he gasped, the pressure strong enough to let him know that this could end badly if he didn't play his cards right. "When you say measures in that tone of yours I'm prompted to worry for all life. And as for my tactics...You assume that'd I'd put a male in this position." He flashed her a small smirk, already debating if she was just going to turn his insides to goo. She chuckled and the pressure decreased slightly, but did not relent. Shifting her hips sideways, she snaked one arm free, grabbed his shoulder from behind and twisted from beneath him. Her arm slipped around his neck and tightened as she clung to his back. "I would suggest avoiding this position at all costs as it allows for open access." She lifted his chin slightly by shifting her wrist, those teeth dangerously close to his neck. "I've yet to devise a way to exist without discomfort in full daylight. Perhaps you might have ideas?" He was all tangled up now, his breathing uneven as felt her hot breath on his neck, enjoying it more then he thought he would. "A veil would be the most sensible choice... since I doubt sunscreen would work..." “And a full body suit?” She snorted in amusement. "Are you at all familiar with the concept of the ninja from Earth's history?" As he was not struggling, she assumed that he had yielded. Disappointing, really. It was so much more fun to watch them squirm. Very tempted to follow through, she forced herself to ignore his racing pulse and ragged breathing and the other signs that normally incited her to attack. Snapping rather close to his ear, she finally released her hold so that he could disengage. It was a second before he pulled away, standing again not far from her. "I've heard of the concept, but I wouldn't pretend to be any sort of expert." "I'll send you pictures I've found in the database in my search for a solution." She met his gaze calmly as she rose from the floor, well aware of his emotional state. "They were quite amusing, but I did get several ideas." He met her eyes, always feeling like she was reading him whenever she looked at him. "Fair enough. If you can find a method that works and is comfortable with you. But I'm not going to send you down in some envirosuit." “Perhaps you should come by my quarters and review what I have,” she suggested as she turned to pick up her bag from the training room floor. It was an innocent enough request, but the slow, wicked smile that formed on her lips was not. As she shouldered the bag and turned back to face him, her expression was neutral. He watched her bend over to pick up the bag. "Sure, whenever works best for you." It was an innocent enough reply, but if he'd learned anything in the Gamma Quadrant, nothing involving Victria was innocent… or normal for that matter. “Excellent.” She did smile then and just managed not to bare her fangs… too much.

Muhahahahahaha. You do realize... this means war...

“When do you guys think Commander Segami is going to be back in Security? Does anyone even know what happened to him?” Ensign Sid Langer leaned conspiringly toward his three security crewmates, glancing about the lounge to see if anyone was eavesdropping. “Someone told me that he’s in medical having his spots removed, but I think they were just joking.” “I’ve heard that he developed some type of disease and was shipped back to Trill so that the symbiont could be transferred into another waiting host,” Lieutenant (jg) Louis Beckman offered with a shrug of his shoulders. “Maybe it will be put into a female Starfleet officer and she’ll get shipped back here to be our Chief,” Ensign Benjamin Chou grinned and waggled his eyebrows at his two friends. “A young female officer with a beautiful body,” Sid said, also waggling his brows. “You two are pitiful,” Louis said into his drink, knocking back a good portion of the synthale. “There are plenty of gorgeous women on board this ship already and you are daydreaming about a fictitious female Security Chief. Even if she did exist, she wouldn’t be interested in either of you.” “But she would go for you, Louie?” Sid chuckled. “Of course,” Louis smiled, despite the annoying nickname. “Of the three of us, everyone knows I’m the best looking.” “Ha!” Chou shook his head. “He didn’t get shipped back to Trill, anyway. I heard that his twin from the Mirror Universe sneaked aboard before we left and tried to assassinate the real Segami. And they both were sent to Starfleet Intelligence until they could figure out what to do with the fake one.” “Your mother really did drop you on your head when you were young, didn’t she,” Sid commented, staring incredulously. “I said that’s what I’d heard, not that I believed it,” Benjamin shot back. “It is rubbish, anyway. Ensign Moehler told me that a lieutenant in engineering told her that he saw a data padd on Commander JoNs desk that said Segami was in the care of Dr. Zier in a special psychology ward on this ship because the Captain had pushed him over the edge.” “Now that I could almost believe,” Louis said. “Sometimes I think the Captain could push anyone over the edge if he really wanted. I’m glad I don’t work on the bridge.” “Scared of him?” Benny asked with a smirk. “No. I’m allergic.” He stared at his friends as they burst out laughing. “I’m serious! I’m allergic to dogs and cats, both. I’d be sneezing all the time.” It took a few minutes before the other two had calmed down enough to talk. Louis glared at them, sipping his drink in silence. Finally wiping tears from his eyes and catching his breath, Sid slugged Louis in the shoulder. “Good one, Lou. You are always good for a laugh.” “Hmm… speaking of gorgeous female officers,” Benny said, now ignoring his friends. He’d straightened in his chair and was tracking the new arrival as she walked to the replicators. “Victria?” Sid whispered, leaning to peer around Louis to get a look. “You are crazy, Benny. She’ll eat you alive. Literally.” “No harm in looking, is there?” “No… not until she rips your eyeballs out of your head,” Louis grunted, turning to peer over his shoulder at the Al-Ucard. “You two heard what she did at the kick-off party?” “Yes,” Benny was grinning again. ‘I wish I’d been there to see it! And record it for posterity’s sake. So I could view it nightly.” “And make copies for all your friends,” Sid chimed in. “And sell them on the black market,” Louis offered. “Probably,” Benny admitted, still watching Victria. “What’s she drinking? Blood?” “That’s all she drinks,” Sid confirmed, nudging his friend with one elbow. “From a glass or from a live donor. You interested in being one? I hear there is a waiting list.” “Oh! She’s heading this way,” Benny whispered. “I’m going to talk to her. She’s just another security officer, right?” “Right,” Louis grunted, now staring at his friend with amusement. “I’ll start writing a speech for your funeral now.” “Shut up,” Benny snapped. “Lieutenant Victria! Over here…” Victria paused as she passed, turning to peer at the Ensign. Her gaze flitted to his two friends, noting their reddening faces. Slightly amused at their tentative expressions, she approached their table. “Ensign Chou, correct? Did you need something?” She tilted her head, watching the pulsing artery in his neck as his heartbeat increased. “We were… well… we… all three of us… were wondering…” He looked to his friends for support, but they were both staring at the Al-Ucard. “We’ve been discussing Chief Segami’s absence and were wondering if you… eh… knew anything about where he is or might be.” “Spreading rumors about his absence, you mean?” One eyebrow arched inquiringly and she watched in amusement as the blood rushed to their faces again. “Yes, I’ve heard all of those as well.” “So… do you know the truth?” Sid asked, piping up despite his better judgment. “No, but I did hear a story that is far more likely than the others.” She paused, prolonging the anticipation. “I’ve heard that he’s in sickbay, being treated for a rash. A particularly nasty one.” “A rash? Why would that put him out of commission?” Louis asked. “If it were an embarrassing one in a sensitive area...” She gave them all significant looks, her eyes dropping to their laps and back up again. “What?” Benny looked confused until realization struck. “Oh. Oh! Eh… yes. I could see how that would be… problematic, especially if it could lead to a loss of… function.” “I doubt that’s what really happened,” Louis said dubiously. “Who ever heard of a rash so invasive that it could remove body parts?” “Now, of that I am not at all certain,” Victria said. “But rumor has it that such a disease has only been found on one particular planet and might be carried by its people.” “Which planet?” Sid perked up, curious. “Orion,” Victria repressed a smile. “And there really aren’t that many on the ship, are there? Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to review some files and grab a bite to eat before duty shift.” Benjamin colored again at her phrasing and had to restrain himself from covering his neck. “Nice to speak with you, Lieutenant. We’ll see you in security, I guess.” “Yes, I hope so,” she smiled, fangs bared, at the three men and turned to find her own table. “She so wants me,” Benny said after Victria had moved out of earshot. He turned to peer at his friends who were shaking their heads and laughing. “What? What?” “You are delirious,” Louis answered with a smirk. “Hey Sid… I think I have a new nickname for Benny. Let’s call him ‘blood bank’.”

What? ::innocently:: Is Laarell the only Orion on the ship? I had no idea. ::evil grin::

Don't they say that the best cure for a hangover is more of the same? ::evil grin::

Laarell sauntered into the gym, shucking the civvies to reveal the set of exercise gear she wore underneath. Like most of her off-duty clothes, it was cut just a fraction tighter and higher than it needed to be -- or lower, in the case of the waistband slung over her hips. She stepped towards one of the more isolated areas, stopping dead in her tracks as a slow smirk spread over her face. "Oh, here is trouble," she said to herself, quietly, and approached the other occupant. "Why, lieutenant!" she greeted, considering the dark-clad woman. "Fancy meeting you here. A little pent-up energy? Surely there are better ways to get rid of it." Victria paused mid chin-up, her gaze narrowing a fraction as her training was interrupted. "Then why are you here?" She resumed her pull on the bar, dropping one arm to work on the other, making the exercise look effortless. Unlike her human counterparts, she did not sweat. She had no need to expel heat when her body temperature was so much colder and could withstand extreme changes in other ways. She grunted as she finally dropped to the floor, clasping her hands over her head and arching her back as she stretched upward. "The attention, for one -- not many places I can go around the ship scantily clad without being on report," she only half-joked. "Besides, I'm not releasing energy -- just keeping up tone.” She rolled her head once, and smirked at the Al-Ucard. "So how's it feel?" she asked, stretching tight muscles. "How does what feel?" Victria knew quite well that the smug smirk the Orion wore led to something deeper. She had an idea of what it could be and the thought irritated her. Everything about the green woman irritated her, especially the fact that she seemed to be deliberately trying to goad her into an altercation. She had moved to one of the practice dummies and was now busy pummeling it in hopes of breaking off one of the limbs. "Being home, of course. Back with your old friends -- the giant arachnids. Did they throw you a little welcome back party?" Laarell sank into a slow split, watching the vampire -- who apparently had a great deal of stored energy. Then again, that was what happened when one's outlet was commandeered. A muscle in Victria's cheek twitched, but she did not pause her sparring. "Yes. We all celebrated at a wonderful ceremony where they toasted me with the blood of your kin for the glorious victory I fought for my people. Afterwards, they discussed how gullible the Federation is for trusting them and how soon they will be staging their uprising." Finally, the head of the dummy ripped free and flew across the room. Victria ceased, satisfied. Laarell snorted. "Wouldn't surprise me. You are quite the little traitor... wouldn't surprise me if you came back around and decided you wanted to betray us, next." She arched back over the stretch, smirking. "Probably not stupid enough to, though -- when you got back, your own people would probably kill you for earlier sins." Her back stiffened visibly and she turned to stare at the green-skinned woman, her expression murderous. "What do you know of me or my people? Nothing!" She hissed. "You didn't think me a traitor as I was aiding your people to crush the Scorpiad's plan for domination. But now that you are safe and no longer have need of someone like me, you sneer at my methods and the decisions I've made and taunt me with things of which you have no knowledge?" She took a step forward, her fists clenched. "Are you seeking a fight or do you wish for death?" "Fight?" Laarell gracefully stood, considering the Al-Ucard. "No, you don't seem in the condition for it, what with my having a level head right now and such. As for death..." The Orion took a challenging step closer. "Are you threatening me, lieutenant?" "Yes, as a matter of fact I am." Victria hissed again, not backing down. She closed in, her fangs bared in anger. "Keep prodding and you'll soon discover what it means to truly fight an Al-Ucard. We sparred once and the outcome was not favorable for you. It shall be worse in a true fight." “Oh, but I've been getting so much more exercise lately," Laarell commented, smirking. "Do you think you could kill me? Or maybe you could," she allowed. "And then you can go running back, back to your little friends with venomous stingers. Go ahead then!" She held her arms to the side, her posture good in form and balance. "Attack, unprovoked. No wonder they had you shipped away from civilized sentients." "You go too far," she grated out, still snarling. Something inside her had changed, however. The anger was there, but not the control. She did not fly into a blind rage as she would have a few months prior. Instead, she allowed herself a few heartbeats more of wishful thinking before she turned sharply away. "It is true what they say of you on this ship. I have heard more stories of you than any other and I thought them only rumors." Still angry, she began lifting the heaviest weights she could find. "The Orion's a treacherous whore?" she offered. "Now, now, that's just affection." She smirked. "No, that one I believed." "And the others?" She prodded, assuming the bars she'd stumbled upon Victria using when first she'd entered. "Most of them center around the denial of your insecure nature, and pinpoint it being the focus of your need for attention." "Insecurity? Hah." She smirked. "I had a conversation the other day in which, I was assured that I am indeed a rare and beautiful creature." She raised a considering eyebrow. "Maybe you need the same." "I have no need of anyone to fill me with empty words or false sentiment." Her lips curled back off of her teeth in smile that could never be considered friendly. "I know perfectly well who and what I am and do not need others to define me." "Oh, really?" she hissed. "And what's that? An abandoned rarity -- a freak of nature?" It was Victria's turn to smile. Pausing with one weight against her shoulder, she shifted her gaze back to Laarell. "If you'd like. But most importantly... Not. Like. You." "Must be," she commented. "Must be why Segami chooses my bed over yours, little vampire," Laarell added, condescendingly. "You?" The weight she'd been holding hit the floor with a loud thud. "You are the reason why he's been avoiding me...” Her gaze narrowed again, but she slowly smiled after a few moments of thought. "Perhaps he thinks I care for him, the way humans so often do for one another. And he chose you to seek comfort?" She laughed. "Because you are always available?" She smirked. "Why, no. More along the lines that I am exotic... skilled... beautiful... and I don't drink blood." Victria snorted dubiously. "And do not forget… easily accessible. But perhaps you are under the assumption that I care about your relationship with him? I don't. We had but a passing encounter. If I had claimed him as my own, there would be little you could do to draw him to you." Unsmilingly, she put the weights back, lifting them without effort. "Vamp mojo?" She suggested, shrugging. "I wouldn't put it past you to ensnare him with your charms or blood or whatever. Less scrupulous than an Elasian." "Still insecure," she muttered, shaking her head. "Just what is your issue with me, Orion? Is it that you feel I am some sort of competition? Or do you just dislike me in general?" Equipment put away, she approached Laarell again, significantly calmer. "What did I do to earn your disdain?" "Competition... your attitude..." She shrugged. "Attacking innocent Starfleet commanders didn't help... the fact that I find you easily capable of treason?" Her smile broadened and she let out a small bark of laughter. "You take offense that I attacked Corizon? You'll be holding that grudge a long time, I'm afraid. He did not do me any favors and we have yet to discuss what transpired." “Absolutely and entirely unrepentant, I see," Laarell commented. "I am wondering if this specimen before me is illustrative of her entire species." "That I could be so honored. Before you continue your self-righteous campaign against me, put yourself in my situation and ask yourself how you would fare. I wager that you would have made many of the same choices." Crossing her arms over her chest, Victria smiled as a sudden thought struck her. "I just realized what is bothering you most: you are afraid that you are more like me than you are willing to admit.” Laarell hissed, her teeth unconsciously and aggressively baring. "I am nothing like you, vampire." She only continued to smirk. "If you say so. Then again, I'm not the one looking for a fight." Giving the Orion one last look, she turned and headed for the door. "Last I checked," Laarell drawled, "sparring wasn't fighting in the most traditional sense." "Sparring... right. I'm sure that's what you wanted." She sounded completely unconvinced. "Enjoy your exercise. I hope you work out whatever it is that is haunting you, Orion." She glared. "Hope the ceiling tile doesn't get tired of your charms, vampire, and dispatch you to whatever circle of hell is reserved for the traitorous. I think it's the deepest one, but maybe there's something even better for vampiric traitors." Victria paused at the door and threw Laarell a fang-filled smile. "If you are ever interested in exploring those charms in depth, come and find me. I will certainly make allowances for your churlish nature. I would not pass up a chance to try authentic Orion blood." She smirked. "So the truth comes out? Have a hankering to sample a bit?" She smirked. "You're cute, but I like being the one who draws blood, vamp." Almost playfully, she waved her off. "I'm Al-Ucardian and you would be wise to keep that in mind. It takes more than a wooden stakes or silver to kill me. A lot more." Victria chuckled and disappeared into the corridor, more amused than annoyed. Laarell chilled. Victria was definitely not a woman she planned on letting near her throat -- or anywhere else -- anytime soon. Definitely not.

- Set between the decommissioning of the Excalibur-B and the commissioning of the Excalibur-C - Month One “From what I hear, your android friend has been creating quite a stir with the admiralty.” Ethan threw the data padd into Victria’s lap as he sat down. “I suppose you knew this would happen? Is that why you asked us to contact her?” “Something like that,” she smirked, picking up the report to read it. “She’s well versed in Federation law and the basic rights the Federation upholds. I’m surprised you did contact her. I’d think you’d want to stop this sort of thing before it ever got started.” “We didn’t contact her,” Ethan snorted. “She somehow got wind of the situation on her own and took it as far as the Federation courts. It has been all we can do to contain her. We’ve put one of our best on it, though.” “She is quite the formidable android.” “As are all the Mudd constructs.” “What is her argument, exactly?” “She’s under the impression that you are being held against your will and that we’ve taken away your freedom of choice.” “Isn’t that the truth?” She gazed at him pointedly. “Do you honestly think you are a prisoner here?” “You’ve already told me that I’m not allowed to leave the system and return to my home quadrant. None of your other citizens are restricted in such a way.” “Untrue. There are others in precarious situations similar to yours.” “And you deny them their rights as well?” “This is only a temporary situation. Just stop fighting it and you might actually enjoy yourself.” “Unlikely.” Victria frowned as she glanced back to the report. She blinked, reading one particular section over again. “This says I was requested to be in court… two weeks ago?” “Yes, but we took care of it.” “No one told me?” Her anger rising, she flung the padd across the room. To his credit, Ethan didn’t even wince. “It wasn’t necessary. We couldn’t risk you leaving… not because of any possibility of flight, but because of what you might have said in court. Even in a private session, there exists the possibility of information leaks. Your wrongly biased testimony could be quite damaging.” “So you simply excused me from the proceedings? Is your government now a dictatorship like so many believe it to be?” She dug her nails into the arms of her chair, very much wanting to rip something to shreds. “Of course not, but we do have several Council members that are friendly to the intelligence branch and know how important we are to the Federation as a whole. We also have good representation. Joy was not pleased – if in fact an android can feel such emotion -- when her arguments were countered, re-countered, and finally dismissed altogether.” “I find it hard to believe that her arguments were fallible in any manner.” “No, they were perfectly sound. They were simply dismissed.” “And she accepted that? Without protest? I also find that hard to believe.” “You know her better than you think.” Ethan smiled benevolently. “She was ready to lodge a public complaint with some extremely nasty accusations. Yet again the type of incident we like to avoid.” “So what stopped her?” “You did.” “What do you mean?” Her gaze narrowed, not liking the smugness in his tone. “You wrote her a very brief letter asking her not to proceed with any further action. I believe you also went on to tell her how you were angry at first, but you now understand our reasons and are complying with our requests.” “I never wrote anything of the sort!” Victria was on her feet, fangs bared in anger. “No. We did. But Joy doesn’t know that. Even if she suspects, she’ll have nothing to go on. We have the letter on file, signed with your genetic signature.” “You go too far!” Hissing, Victria used the low table between them as a springboard to launch herself at him. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do once she got her hands on him, but it would undoubtedly involve bloodshed. She and Ethan were alone in her newly assigned living quarters. Though her rooms were being monitored, she knew she could draw blood before the security team arrived. The blast to her stomach caught her completely off guard, however. Ethan fired the phaser again as she staggered backward. Catching herself on one of the chairs, she clutched her stomach and glared at him. Then the opportunity passed as a troop of security crewmen filed in, weapons trained on her. “Do not think that just because I am a doctor I will not hesitate to defend myself. I am your liaison. I’m here to help you, no matter what you might think. We did what was necessary to put an end to the ridiculous charade, and you should thank us for it. No matter how much you thought Joy might have helped you, rest assured that she has her own agenda in mind and it probably includes you as some political pawn.” “You still had no right!” She growled, her fists clenched. “WE HAD EVERY RIGHT!” He matched her glare for several long moments before he regained his composure. After a few long moments, he gestured to the security team, waving them off. “You may go. I am in no danger.” Victria watched them leave until the doors closed at last then swung her attention back to Ethan. He’d retreated to the eating area where he was replicating something to drink. Unmoving, she waited. When he returned, he wore a slightly guilty expression. “I apologize for that. I don’t often lose my temper.” Resuming his seat on the couch, he waved her to hers. “Please… sit… I know you are angry, but you really need to learn to control your emotions. Lashing out only proves to others that you are the wild animal they think you to be.” “Victria. Please. Sit,” he repeated when she made no move to comply. “I do not wish us to fight. Let me explain why we do the things we do.” “I’m listening,” she said coldly, finally unclenching her fists and reclaiming her former seat. “Starfleet Intelligence operates for the benefit of Starfleet and the Federation. Without our information gathering techniques, countless lives would be lost. We would also lose valuable technology and resources to those that wish to see the Federation fall. Sometimes our methods are unorthodox, or perhaps what others would consider to be immoral, but they are necessary.” “Forging my identity was necessary?” “Do you know what would happen if this organization was brought under the Federation Council’s microscope? Most of the Council members are well aware of the measures we take, but politely ignore what we do as a necessary evil because we do not draw attention to ourselves. If we’re noticed, people start asking uncomfortable questions and delving into places they have no business being.” “Pulling you into the public eye is not an option. There have already been too many reports about the incidents that happened in the Gamma Quadrant and your involvement there. Only a select few outside of the Excalibur crew know that you are on Earth. We need to keep it that way.” Despite her resolve, Victria felt her anger waning. She could not fault his reasoning, but as a victim of one of those aforementioned “immoral methods”, she was not pleased. Frustration writhed inside of her. For the second time in her life she felt utterly helpless and she did not like it. “What do you expect of me,” she said through gritted teeth. “A little patience, Victria. Just a little patience.” He sighed. “And the opportunity to let us help you.” “Help me with what, exactly?” She asked, more than a little skeptical. “Finding your humanity.”

Joy's arguments make my head hurt. :D Awesome log!

"Do you really think it ethical to keep her here like this?" Commander Banks glanced inquisitively at her commanding officer as the two of them stood in front of the forcefield. "We operate in gray areas, Banks. And not to sound like a Vulcan cliche, but the good of the many outweighs the good of the one, especially when that one is a blood thirsty animal." Captain Hartford frowned as he continued to stare into the cell. "Still... she does have rights. I mean, she is a sentient creature and has been living with the Excalibur crew without incident. The reports I've seen have her functioning as a valuable member of the crew." Marshall Hartford turned to peer dispassionately down at the naive woman, his frown deepening. "Would you care to join her in that cell, Commander? Do you trust her enough to not kill you at the first opportunity?" "Well... I... I didn't say that... but it's just that..." "It's just that you have no idea of what she is capable. When the team reached Excalibur, she was fang-deep into the neck of the Captain - her commanding officer. Does that sound like a 'valuable member of the crew' to you?" "Well no, but..." "Not that he didn't deserve it," Marshall said, smiling for the first time. "I would have given a year's worth of credits to have seen Corizon taken down a few pegs. But that's beside the point. Insubordination is not excusable, nor is the assault of a fellow officer." "Stop being such a hard ass, Marshall," a new arrival said from the door. "I remember a few Academy brawls that you participated in where more than one fellow officer was knocked out cold with that nasty left hook of yours." He chuckled at Hartford's expression as he approached. "Doctor McConnell," the Captain grunted, visibly annoyed. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't scheduled to arrive until tomorrow." "No doubt you'd made plans to be gone by then," Ethan said, his expression one of amusement. He tucked both hands into the pockets of his lab coat in habitual fashion and peered past the bulk of the Captain to the slender Commander Banks. "Josephine! A pleasure to see you again. I had no idea you were assigned to Caspian Two, else I might have visited earlier." "Ethan," she nodded, automatically returning his smile. A glare from her Captain, however, quickly wiped away the expression. She cleared her throat uneasily. "Nice to see you again as well, Doctor." "When you're done flirting with my staff, McConnell, let me know," Marshall growled. "I doubt I'll ever be done flirting, especially when so many of your staff officers are beautiful women like the Commander here," he flashed a smile at Josephine. "No offense, Jo." "None taken," she said, trying extremely hard not to smile. "Watch yourself, Commander," Hartford growled again at the Doctor. "I'm still in charge here and I don't tolerate insubordination." "It is Captain, actually. You'd know that if you'd bothered to read any of my communications." McConnell opened his lab coat slightly to reveal the four pips at his neck. "And yes, you are still in charge of this station, but you are not in charge of this subject. I've been assigned as her liaison to help ease the transition." Hartford snorted. "Good luck. She's going to be trouble." "Trouble is what you make it, Marshall." Ethan smiled thinly. "First order of business... stop talking about her as though she is not present." "Victria, are you unharmed?" McConnell approached the cell, leaning casually on the edge of the forcefield generator. "She can't hear you or see you," Captain Hartford snorted. "The forcefield blocks both. We made sure of that." "Did you read her file?" McConnell turned, slightly amused. "Did you catch the part about her extraordinary hearing and vision?" "Of course, but that field is proofed." "For most beings, yes. But her range is far beyond the field limitations. Perhaps you should write up a report on that for the engineers to remedy." He turned back to the cell. "You've been listening to every word, haven't you Victria?" Sitting calmly on the floor of her cell, Victria slowly opened her eyes and lifted her gaze. Rising to her feet, she approached the end of the cell and stood in front of the forcefield. She stared directly at Captain Hartford, her eyes narrowed. Marshall paled visibly. "Are you going to let me out or not? I'm hungry." A slow smile spread across her lips until the very tips of her fangs showed. "Of course we are. You aren't a prisoner, after all. I'm sure Captain Hartford was just taking... precautions," Ethan assured, glancing sideways. "Commander, signal the team. I'm not letting her out of there until we've taken even more precautions." Marshall was scowling as he backed up several steps to let Commander Banks do her job. In only a few moments, the room was swarming with well trained security personnel. They took up various positions, phaser rifles at the ready. Hartford did a quick check, nodded his satisfaction, and indicated that one of them should disengage the forcefield. The shimmering light died and for several heartbeats no one moved. Then, all at once, everything exploded. Faster than they could track, Victria launched herself out of the cell and tackled Captain Hartford. She was snarling inches away from his face when the first beam of ultraviolet light hit her. Howling in rage, she rolled away from the attack and jumped to her feet, dodging several ordinary phaser blasts to take down the nearest security officer. Snatching up his weapon, she quickly dispatched two more of the guards. She winced as another concentrated beam of ultraviolet struck her in the face, but she did not slow. It only enraged her further. No more than a minute later, the eight security crewmen were on the floor, either unconscious or writhing in pain. Commander Banks had been struck by friendly fire and lay gasping with Doctor McConnell hovering over her to check her vitals. Hartford was on the floor, the barrel of a phaser rifle pressed underneath his chin. Still snarling, Victria loomed over him, her finger tapping the trigger dangerously. "Well..." Ethan helped Commander Banks to her feet and supported her to the nearest chair. "That went better than I expected." He tapped his comm badge, smiling at Victria when he caught her scowling in his direction. "Medical emergency to Interrogation Room 3." "Victria, I believe you can let him up now. You aren't going to kill him and it would be better for you if you aren't threatening a superior officer when the medical team gets here. They'll only summon more security." He sighed. "I am not some experiment to do with as you please," she hissed, her words for them both. "Get the hell off of me," Hartford growled, glaring up at her. "Say please," she grinned evilly as she pressed the rifle a bit further into his flesh. "I suggest you do as she says, Captain. It is your fault, after all. You insulted her." Ethan left Josephine to check on the other downed officers. Hartford gritted his teeth, but managed to grate out a resentful 'please'. Victria hesitated for a moment, then pulled the phaser away, letting it drop to rest against her thigh as she took several steps back. Rubbing his throat, he sat up and immediately tapped his comm badge. "Security to Interrogation Room 3!" "Belay Security!" McConnell yelled into his comm almost at the same moment, having anticipated Hartford’s action. "If she'd wanted you dead, she would have ripped your throat out. All of these men are alive. Consider that for a moment." The room fell silent as the two glared at each other. "Interesting weapon modification," Victria said sarcastically, ignoring their silent power struggle. "Why could you possibly need an ultraviolet beam? Was this all for my benefit, or are you planning on engaging the Al-Ucard in battle." "We must be planned for any contingency." Captain Hartford pulled himself to his feet. He was still glaring, but the effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that he could not decide who to glare at the most. "Right." She threw the rifle into the wall so hard that the casing shattered. "Now, what in the hell do you people want and why am I being held? If you plan to keep me in a cell indefinitely or begin performing lab experiments on me," blue eyes shifted to the doctor, "then you can expect quite a bit of resistance." "Don't look at me," Ethan held up his hands with a slight laugh. "I'm a psychoanalyst, not a butcher. I'm here to help ease you into the transition, not hold you prisoner. Starfleet Intelligence wishes for you to work for us. You aren't being allowed to leave because you'll head straight back to Al-Ucard, which we cannot have." "You'd deny me freedom despite all that I've accomplished for your Federation?" Victria scowled. "I returned from a mission that nearly killed me, endured torture beyond your comprehension, destroyed a grounded Scorpiad fleet single-handedly, and retrieved reconnaissance that proved to be the savior of countless lives." "All very admirable, and exactly the sort of quality that we like to see in a Federation officer, but that isn't quite the issue." "Oh? Enlighten me." "You've served aboard one of our ships. You've used our technology. And you've intimate knowledge of our rules, regulations, and procedures." Hartford chimed in, pausing as the emergency medical team entered and begin to quickly cart out the injured. His attention shifted back to Victria once he decided they were all doing the best job possible. "You know too much." She snorted. "Your technology is simple in comparison to what the Scorpiad have developed. Rudimentary, even. If I had the urge to sell such information to the highest bidder, who would be interested in it? Certainly not the Al-Ucard. We prefer to use other methods to accomplish our goals, not espionage." "Of course," the doctor added smoothly. "And your knowledge of those advanced systems is another reason why we cannot let you leave. At the moment, we have two foreign ships in our base that our engineers are puzzled over. Your help would drastically reduce the time they'll need to spend on them. Not to mention the other ways you can help us out." Her expression darkened. "You want me to spy for you," she stated as the realization hit her. "You are the perfect candidate for such work," Ethan said soberly. "You are valuable to us, and not as simply a tool to be used or abused. We need your help. Desperately. If the Scorpiad decide to break the uneasy truce and invade, there is little we can do to stop them if they have full resources at their disposal. We would rather uncover any such plot before it happened in order to prevent it. At the moment, you are our only link to that quadrant, the Scorpiad, the Al-Ucard, and all other races the Scorpiad have under their rule." "I’ve had enough of this." Captain Hartford grumbled. "She's your charge, McConnell. Do what you need to do, but don't come crawling to me with your throat ripped out when she tries to kill you. You are responsible for her until she leaves this facility." He glared at Victria again, then motioned for Josephine to join him, only to discover that she'd already been taken out by the medical staff. Annoyed, he stomped out of the room. "Don't worry about him. He's always been paranoid." Ethan approached her, fingers lightly touching her arm. "Are you well... really? Were you injured?" Smacking his hand away, she frowned at him. "I heal quickly. Where are my things?" When she’d awaken, she’d been dressed in the same type of loose fitting pants and tank-top that one might see at any medical facility. Predictably, all of the bladed weapons that she carried on her person had been removed. "I'm afraid that allowing you to carry weapons is forbidden... for now... though practice exercises have been scheduled for you based on the holodeck programs that you'd created on the Excalibur. I thought you might like to have this, however." Reaching into the pocket of his lab coat, he held up a long silver chain upon which dangled a small vial of blood. "It was analyzed as procedure dictated, so we are aware of what is inside. A personal gift from a superior officer?" He arched one eyebrow. She took the chain from him and held the vial up to inspect it. "He gave it to me as a sign of friendship, I think, though the concept is still foreign to me. Ally, perhaps, would be more understandable." Dropping the vial into her other palm, she closed her hand tightly around it and squeezed until it shattered. "What are you doing!" He grabbed her hand and pried it open, hastily picking out pieces of embedded glass. "Are you insane or simply want people to think you are? Our intel had the two of you involved in something more than just a professional relationship." She watched impassively as he tended her hand, though the cuts were already healing over. "The last time I saw Atticus Segami, he shot me in the chest at maximum stun and clubbed me in the back of the head in an attempt to subdue me. The last thing I want in my possession is a piece of him to remind me of that betrayal. For his sake, I hope we do not meet again anytime soon." Ethan met her gaze as he wiped away the last of the blood with the hem of his once-pristine lab coat. "I can see that we are going to be spending a lot of time together. You definitely need help with your anger management." Victria smiled slowly, fangs fully bared. "You are more than welcome to try... but I wouldn't recommend it."

He was named that because he used to eat Checkers as a puppy. They had to take him to the vet several times for x-rays and emergency surgery. :)

“Did you see the kitty after they dunked her a few times to get rid of the fleas?” The first spoke in low tones, though he sounded highly entertained. “I didn’t get to see it, but I heard the spitting and howling from two sections down. I’ll have to check out the security feed later for a bit of entertainment.” The second replied, his voice just as quiet, but just as amused. “She was boothed as well. Yowled so loud for so long that I thought the device itself was going to shatter.” His companion chuckled. “Now that I did see. I swear, I think that every single hair on her body was sticking straight out. “ “We’ll have to catch a replay of that one, too. Quality.” “Did you hear about the Trill they are interrogating?” “Yes. News travels fast. I’m scheduled to be on guard duty when they take him to medical to remove his illegal symbiont.” “Ha! That’s no less than he deserves, from what I’ve heard of his background as a terrorist...” Victria bared her fangs in frustration as she was forced to avoid yet another station security patrol. Melting back into the shadows of the maintenance junction, she waited for the officers to pass, her eyes tracking their progress until they were out of sight. This was not the first party she’d heard discussing those particular events in hushed tones. Her hearing was excellent, however, so she usually caught the first of the muffled whispers in time to avoid the gossiping officers. Glancing down to the data padd she carried, she checked the locations of the away team members (yet again) and frowned. She had been prowling around the security complex for the better part of an hour, maintaining the delicate balance between effective reconnaissance and probable detection. She had scouted all possible entrances into the highly protected section of the station but had found no opportunity to slip inside. The engineer’s maintenance crawl spaces provided the best solution, but they were all being monitored electronically. A power outage in that area (or some other type of diversion) might gain her entrance, but it would also draw immediate attention to the attempt. From what she could glean from the sensors, none of the Away Team members had been removed from their original locations. She’d watched their signals moving within the facility itself, but never outside it. That posed a bit of an issue for her because that particular area was well shielded from transporter technology - on purpose no doubt. Could the shielding be compromised in some way, she could simply beam them out. For the moment, however, she could do nothing. The only way into the facility seemed to be as a prisoner or as one of the security members themselves. The former was not an option. The latter had promise, but she doubted she could maintain the ruse for long. A station with this much force housed within it had procedures and protocols that she would not be able to counterfeit. As much as she hated to admit it, Victria needed assistance. She needed a plan. Withdrawing from the restricted area without detection, she was soon mingling with the rest of the station crowd. None of the occupants looked at her oddly, but then she did resemble an average humanoid – albeit an extremely pale one. Assuming her casual stride, she made her way through the maze of people once again, this time ignoring the shops and establishments that she’d previously pretended to explore. Armed with what she had learned during through recon, along with what she’d been able to download from the station’s public access computers, Victria headed for her pre-planned beam-out site. The cargo bay was not empty when she entered. Voices coming from another area of the room hinted that someone was obtaining goods illegally. That was no concern of hers, however. She concealed herself among the crates until business had been conducted and the two parties had vacated the room. Listening for a few moments longer to make sure that no one else was about, she finally activated her comm link to the Scorpiad shuttle, initiating automatic beamout. The run back to Excalibur was uneventful. The HSS (Her Stolen Ship) Blood-fang had moved positions several times in order to avoid detection, but it only took a few extra moments to reorient the shuttle’s position and send it back on its original heading. Finding a cloaked ship (especially one of different technology) was tricky at best, but the Blood-fang had Scorpiad-installed sensors just for that purpose. She risked a short comm burst on the pre-designated tight-band frequency and was quickly gained entrance back onto the ship. “You abandoned the rest of the team?!” An indignant Lieutenant in security colors approached her as she climbed out of the shuttle a few minutes later. “You left them there? I knew you couldn’t be trusted!” “It was unavoidable.” Victria ignored the insulting accusations and stepped past him, heading for the corridor. “Don’t walk away from me, Ensign! Not even full Ensign… provisional Ensign!” He caught up to her and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. “Touch me again and you’ll find yourself without the use of your hands. Hands. Plural.” Victria growled at him as she yanked her arm out of his grip. She bared her fangs dangerously. “I have important news to report . Take your ignorant assumptions and cram them up your a…” “Ensign!” Another voice interrupted, hailing her from the door. The newly arrived Lt. Commander glared at the male security officer, an unspoken reprimand showing in his expression. “Ensign Victria, the Captain gave orders for you to meet him immediately! Quit arguing and go!” Snapping her fangs at the security Lieutenant, she turned sharply and headed into the corridor at a trot. No matter how long she served aboard Excalibur, she guessed there would always be those waiting for their chance to eliminate her from the ranks. She wasn’t sure what irked her more – the fact that she still wasn’t trusted, or the fact that she actually cared. Either way, she was royally screwed.

Oooh! Sexy legs! All the men in tights! Yes!

To the last entry goes the prize. ;) Go Hawser!