Victria

Have at it. ;)

Scare Tactics - Barnyard Style

Hey... I resemble that remark. ::Evil grin:: I think Dox is going to have a midnight visit of his own if he isn't careful. Muhahahahahaha. Nice log JoNs. Glad I finally got to read it! :)

"I imagine it is chaotic on the bridge right now. I mean, I've taken a few shifts there, but nothing exciting has ever happened while I was on duty. Certainly not a battle! I heard that we took out several ships. Is that true?" Victria turned slowly to stare at the ensign in the turbolift with her, eyes narrowing. He must have sensed that her fang-filled smile was anything but friendly. He took an involuntary step backward and pressed himself against the wall, muttering apologies for bothering her. Expelling her breath between her teeth in a low hiss, she turned back to watching the doors, willing the infernal conveyance to move faster. She could hear the crewman's racing heartbeat lessen as she turned away, but it was not enough to amuse her. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to rend the unknown ensign to pieces. Her sharpened fingernails cut into her palms as she clenched her hands into fists, barely controlling herself. It was a true relief when the lift doors finally opened onto her deck. She strode out silently and stalked down the corridor. Those she met were quick to move out of her path for her expression was murderous. She ignored the hushed murmuring that rose up in her wake. Had she paused to listen, she would have likely injured someone. Finally reaching her quarters, she strode inside, slapped on the privacy lock and screamed! The first piece of furniture that came to hand was the standard issue chair in her sitting area. She lifted it over head and slammed it down into the occasional table in the middle of the room. The glass top of the low table proved to be shatter proof, but the table itself collapsed under the force. Unsatisfied with the unbroken glass, Victria grabbed the chair once more and hurled it across the room. It struck the wall to her sleeping area and dented the panels there. With another piercing scream, she jumped and drove her fist downward into the table. The glass gave way and broke into several large pieces. Still seething, she launched herself at her couch. A blade came easily to her hand and sank into the dark colored surface. Slashing wildly, the piece of furniture was soon an unidentifiable mass of ripped fabric and foam stuffing. Her blade disappeared and she took the cast polymer frame in both hands, yelling in anger as she snapped it in half. The replicator panel was the next to feel her wrath. She threw several pieces of the couch frame at the dark screen, cracking the resilient surface. Her fist followed the thrown furniture, punching a hole in the center of the terminal and shorting out several circuits in the process. Leaving the terminal to spark and crackle, she spun and drove her elbow through the wall a few feet away, another scream ripping from her throat as she vented. Blade in hand again, she forcefully stabbed the wall multiple times until her arm began to ache and her voice began to crack. Each strike came slower and slower until she finally paused, burying the dagger hilt-deep into the wall, making no move to pull it free. Panting and exhausted by the uncontrolled bursts of violence, her rage finally drained away, leaving her unable to stand. She sank to her knees and pressed her face to the ground, covering her head with her arms. Her entire body shook with emotion, but she did not cry. She could not cry, not as humans cried. She did, however, mourn. She mourned the loss of her homeworld and the life she had been wrenched away from by order of the Scorpiad. She mourned the fellow Al-Ucard that lost their lives in battle, both past and present. And mostly, she mourned those that had died by her own hand. Her people -- and she had helped to kill them. Hundreds of them. Siyar had labeled her traitor. At the time, Victria had violently denied the accusation. She was no traitor to her people. She loved her people, though she vehemently hated the Scorpiad. Their dominance over the Al-Ucard had continued for too long and she was determined to end it. Surely there were others like her that wished the same. On Al-Ucard, she had never been a blind follower of the Scorpiad. She was a Hunter and her life had been the Hunt. She left others to follow their mindless devotion to the gods that had abandoned them long ago. The reemergence of the Scorpiad on Al-Ucard had thrown their entire culture into a frenzy, however. Those that had neglected the religion were soon scrambling to worship and obey. The Hunt was set aside and forgotten as they amassed their space fleet of warships and sent them to follow Scorpiad command. Victria served on one of those ships, but she still had not believed the Scorpiad to be the god-like beings that they portrayed themselves to be. Rather, she had seen them for the conquering species they were, but she had done nothing. Who was she to rebel against thousands of years of belief and tradition? And so her life, along with those with whom she served, had been tossed away in battle. She was disposable, as all were those under the rule of the Scorpiad. When she was given a second chance at life, she chose to rebel against her former masters. Did that rebellion make her a traitor to her people if she were forced to kill Al-Ucard that still sided with the Scorpiad? She wanted to reject Siyar's claims, but now she could not help but wonder if the woman had been right all along...

I agree. Nice log. :) I love good ghost stories, though crazy hallucinations aren't too bad either. ::coughDoxcough:: I think we should bring back Morrison more often to follow Left Ear around. :)

The journey to the shuttle bay had been painfully uneventful in Victria's mind. She had assuaged the worst of her Hunger with the unfortunate soldier, but would not deny herself another bite should the opportunity occur. The most amusing part of their crawl through the complex maintenance tubes had been R'eln's palatable unease. She imagined that he was nervously anticipating an attack from her. It would be a lie to say that she had not thought about it, but she quickly decided that she might have further use for him in the escape. When they arrived at the vent that led to the shuttle complex, he motioned for her to move up to get a look. Hardly breathing, she squeezed forward, peering through the grate at the area. Beside her she could feel R'eln's heartbeat increase, though she couldn't tell if it was caused by her presence or the anticipation of escape. She scanned the room, using her excellent hearing to fill what she couldn't see. "I count at least fifteen guards," he whispered, glancing sideways at her. "There are at least another six out of visual range," she replied calmly, ignoring the anxiety in his voice. "How are you going to get past them? Diversion?" "A thought. Could you flood the room with something toxic?" "I would have to bring their core back online, but that would give them access as well. They could lock down everything." "Not an option, then." Her gaze drifted to the rows of ships waiting to be launched. The fighter in which she had arrived was lost among them, but she did not need to retrieve it. Any ship would do, so long as it functioned properly. "Do you think you could lock out the doors, at least? Fuse them shut?" "With a plasma weapon," he breathed. "But what about the soldiers?" "I will take care of them. With them focused on me, you will need to secure the door without them seeing you. I will join you once you have a fighter ready to launch. Stay here, out of sight, until you see a break. Then use the storage containers for cover." "How are you going to handle over twenty trained soldiers by yourself?" He whispered harshly, watching as she began to remove the vent cover. "By killing them all," she replied, turning to him with sadistic, fang-filled smile. He recoiled, but before he could stammer out an objection, she continued. "Keep more from entering, then get yourself to a ship. I do not want to have to worry about you for any longer than necessary." He nodded tentatively and she turned back to the vent cover, removing it with a slight tug at a moment when no soldiers were looking. She slipped out and slinked quietly away, wanting to put some distance between herself and R'eln's escape route. Using stacked cargo and supplies to stay out of sight for as long as possible, Victria carefully chose her first target: a soldier that stood a little too far away from the rest of his unit. Muscles bunched in anticipation as she prepared to break cover. Eyes darting to check the area one last time, she exhaled slowly and then shot into motion. With blurring speed, she attacked the soldier from behind, drawing his own knife from its sheath and slitting his throat. Four others fell to the blade before the rest fully realized what was happening. A deafening outcry of rage hit her as the remaining soldiers charged. Weapons fire soon began to streak past her, though each missed narrowly as she refused to remain still. As the soldiers neared, the possibility of friendly fire gave most of them pause. They attacked, instead, with deadly bladed weapons. Her combat senses extended to the fullest, Victria lost herself to her Hunting instincts. Soldier three provided a second blade for her to use which proved deadly to the four that closely followed him. Soldier eight chanced point-blank fire at her chest, but could not match her speed. He soon found himself missing his arm and, a moment later, his head. Soldier nine fell twitching, slain by the shot meant for her. But Victria did not pause to inspect her victims. As she fought, she transitioned fluidly from one to the next, selecting her next target even before her current had died. Twelve through fifteen died within moments of one another, killed by blade and plasma as she rebounded off one of the ships and attacked them in mid-flight. Seventeen fell with a sword through his chest, skewered by eighteen whom Victria beheaded shortly after. Smarter than his comrades, nineteen took cover and fired from behind the perceived safety of a fighter ship. She rolled to dodge a volley of plasma blasts, grabbed a fallen soldier's dagger in passing, and flung it at the offender. He fell back with the blade buried in his forehead. Number twenty attacked her from behind, but his sword met only air. The surprised soldier choked and fell as her blade severed his windpipe. At number twenty-one, Victria could no longer contain herself. The floor was slick with blood and the metallic scent assaulted her senses. She took the soldier alive, using his body as a shield as she sank her fangs into his neck to drink and revitalize herself. Even while feeding, however, her gaze continued to dart about the room, calculating her next attack. Tossing the limp form away after a few moments, Victria noted that more soldiers were present than she had originally counted. A quick glance showed the doors leading from the compound were still unsecured. Soldiers continued to stream inside, pounding across the bay to take up the fight against her. Expecting R'eln to have done his job by now, she quickly glanced to the vent, spotting the cover thrown haphazardly aside. Another survey of the room -- using her meal's rifle to blast three more soldiers -- showed no sign of the Shalia. Victria was a superb combatant, but she could not fight forever. Already, the levels of concentration required were beginning to wear her down and the influx of soldiers would soon be overwhelming. A flicker of movement to her left alerted her to incoming attackers as they attempted an ambush from the neat rows of spacecraft. Beyond them, however, she saw something of far greater importance: R'eln climbing undetected into one of the fighters. Above the sounds of battle, she heard the craft powering up. In her distraction, a blast of plasma fire struck her in the shoulder and spun her around. She hissed in pain as she righted and flung herself at the unlucky male, disemboweling him in one clean swipe. Her fingers curled about one of the standard issue incendiary devices that all of the soldiers wore on their bandoliers and yanked it free. Running for those that planned an ambush, she activated the device and tossed it at the first soldier she met. He caught it out of reflex and quickly threw it away in horror as he realized what it was. Using the next attacker as a vault, she launched herself at one of the fighters and scrambled to the top. A few rows away, she saw the doors of R'eln's fighter closing. Moving as quickly as possible, she leapt from one ship to the next to put distance between her and her enemies. Behind her, she heard the blast of the grenade she'd thrown and the resulting explosion as it enveloped a nearby ship. Like a true catalyst, the detonation caused a chain reaction, each ship setting the next on fire. With no emergency suppression system active to extinguish the flames, the shuttle bay was soon a violent mass of exploding craft. Victria jumped to the ground where the remaining ships would temporarily buffer the concussive waves. She reached R'eln's chosen fighter just before it rose to depart and grabbed the door handle. Clinging to the entry hatch as the fighter left the bay floor behind, she physically pried the heavy door open, ignoring the blaring alarms as she tumbled inside. The panel slammed shut behind her, silencing the alarms as decompression was no longer a threat. She felt the engines kick in and sensed the decrease in gravity -- though the internal artificial gravity seemed to be functioning normally -- as the fighter left the compound and headed into space. Even as they left the complex, the explosions were still audible. The door to the pilot's compartment slid aside as she neared. R'eln stood to block her way, aiming a small phaser pistol at her chest. She paused in the center of the corridor, ignoring the puddle of blood that was slowly beginning to form at her feet. "You forgot to lock out the rest of the compound," she said dryly. "I did not forget," he replied, frowning. "There were too many soldiers and I did not have the opportunity." "You were leaving without me." "Yes. I decided one less Al-Ucard to hunt us would probably be a good thing." "Ruthless. I did not think you had it in you, Shalia." "It was not a hard decision. You provided the perfect diversion. I do not need you to fly this ship, so you will not be returning to Federation controlled space with me." "You are going to kill me," one eyebrow lifted as she took a step closer. "You are going to do it yourself? Right now?" "You are a danger to me and my kind, no matter with whom you ally yourself." "Usually, the longer you talk to your intended victim, the harder it is to kill them when the time comes," she pointed out. "You are right," he said, promptly firing. As before, however, Victria had not waited for the blast to reach her. Anticipating his attack, she flung herself against one wall, grabbed his arm, and slammed the weapon out of his hand. Incredulous at his failure, he stared at her in wide-eyed horror as she held him by the throat and pinned him to the wall. "I am very impressed with you R'eln. You have shown me that you are more than what your race was initially meant to be. I could never believe that a mere Shalia could produce such ruthless, Al-Ucardian tendencies." "I am no parasitic Al-Ucard!" he yelled vehemently, trying to push her away. "No, you are not," she replied without breaking her hold. "You are not worthy to be an Al-Ucard, but I do not believe you can call yourself a Shalia any longer. What will the rest of your people think of such a betrayal?" "They would praise me for ridding the Universe of one your kind," he snarled. "As the Scorpiad would praise me for destroying one of yours?" She leaned close until their faces were only inches apart. "Do you see how you have become what you most loathe? You spout ideals at me, but turn your back on them when it suits you. What happened to your sense of honor?" R'eln opened his mouth to argue, but closed it without saying anything. He stared at her, hanging his head in shame after a moment. "Just kill me and finish it now," he pleaded, finding the truth far more damaging than any amount of physical damage Victria could have bestowed. "Oh, I do not intend to kill you, little Shalia," Victria assured him. "You have shown me that one must set aside personal prejudices and judge another on actions alone. As you learned to be ruthless, I can find it in me to be merciful and spare your life." "However," she curbed any outpouring of gratitude with an evil smile, baring her fangs. "I am still a 'parasitic Al-Ucard' and cannot always help my vengeful ways. It is going to take several hours to reach the Excalibur, especially if we intend to avoid the Scorpiad's FTL Focal Systems. And I find that combat always makes me extremely thirsty..." ~ End

Touching log, Sorehl. I almost feel bad about killing massive amounts of people in mine. Almost... ^_^

New feature at the State Fair: Soccer Mom Demolition Derby

Thank you Dox for not being in Security. We don't need any more crazy people in our department. :D Nice log!

"Going off shift now?" Haiin paused in the corridor, hefting his plasma rifle up on his shoulder. "Yes. Just finished," Cin replied as he loosened his protective armor and helmet. "I am scheduled for six hours sleep before I report back. You are just starting?" "Yes, start of my own double shift. Section Uooli. See you next shift?" "Possibly. I have been stationed in Section Erat lately. Tough shift. I have no idea if I am being assigned back there. Maybe the Commander will take pity and give me easy duty in Uooli for once." "Easy duty?" Haiin snorted. "If watching the Eritan and Al-Ucard feed on the enslaved is easy, you must be suffering from space sickness." "Better them than us," Cin replied, shrugging. "Easier to watch than to have to dispose of the remains. But I need sleep and you do not want to be late, lest you join the ranks of the consumed." "Yes... Masn and Porill were both late yesterday," Haiin said quietly. He stared off down the corridor and shook his head after a moment. "They deserved better." "No," he argued. "They received what was their due. They knew the penalty for disobedience." "How can you say that? They were our friends!" Haiin said hotly, glaring at his fellow soldier. "They were only a few minutes late for shift and the Commander tossed them away to be sucked dry by a pair of parasitic Eritans like they were nothing more than filthy slaves. How was that fair?" "Careful of what you say," Cin hissed, grabbing Haiin by the vest and shoving him against the wall. "Unless you want to be someone's next meal. Your attitude borders on insubordination and if anyone were to overhear you, your life would be meaningless." "Isn't it already?" Haiin shrugged out of his grip and pushed him away. "Sleep well if you think you are able," he said with a slight sneer. "I have a duty shift to get to." Cin stared at the other soldier's back and shook his head in disgust as he resumed his path to his quarters. More and more soldiers were being poisoned by outside rumors of uprisings against the Scorpiad. Some, like Masn and Porill had become despondent and insubordinate, and had paid severely for their mistake. And now Haiin seemed to be slipping further from his obligations. Like it or not, Cin would have to report his comments to the Commander. He doubted Haiin would be alive much longer. Reaching the room he shared with three others, he was pleased to find it empty. His bunkmates were either on duty or seeking out a meal for there were no other diversions in the complex. Removing his helmet as he stepped inside, he turned to toss it on his bed and found himself face to face with a female that hadn't been there a heartbeat before. Her blue gaze and bared fangs marked her as Al-Ucard. Had she heard the conversation in the hallway? Mouth suddenly dry, he opened it to greet the newcomer but could not seem to remember the proper words. Horrified, he heard himself stammering. "H-h-h-h-haiin made th-those comments. I w-was going to r-r-report him n-next shift." The Al-Ucard did not speak, but lunged at him faster than he could follow. He felt her jerk his head backward and winced as her fangs sank deep into his flesh. He could also feel the urgency as she began to drink, clinging to him as a drifter in space would cling to a safety-tether. He struggled, but her raw strength prevented him from breaking away. "But, I serve faithfully!" He choked out in a harsh whisper, eyes wide in disbelief as his body weakened. "I serve the Scorpiad..." "That was your first mistake," she whispered in his ear when she had drained almost all life from him. "Your blind faith has been your undoing." She turned his head to face her and smiled, beatific and frightening all in the same moment. She licked the blood that lingered on her lips without breaking his gaze, the icy blue depths of her eyes mesmerizing. "And no one likes a traitor that turns on his own friends," she said, seemingly amused by some private thought. "Sleep now. You are overdue for your generous six hours. Die content knowing your blood has contributed to the downfall of the Scorpiad you so dearly love." Cin barely had time to register the words before she snapped his neck. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Was that entirely necessary?" R'eln asked as he watched Victria heft the lifeless soldier in her arms. The display of Al-Ucardian violence was unsettling as it was the one thing his people had been trying to avoid since their liberation from the Scorpiad. "Yes," she said as she arranged the dead soldier in a parody of sleep on his own bed. "Yes? That is all you are going to say?" Flipping the blanket over the corpse, Victria glanced over her shoulder. "What answer would you like, exactly?" "That you feel some sort of remorse? That you did not want to kill him, but had to anyhow? I do not know. Maybe some shred of proof that you are not the monster my people think you are?" He stared at her from across the room, standing by the closed door and unwilling to move any closer. "But I am that monster," she said, mouth twisting into a fanged smile. One boot slid the rug on the floor a few inches to the left to cover up what little blood she had spilled. "By your definition at least. I could tell you that I did not wish to end his life, but that would be a lie. I needed his blood to survive, and my survival is most important to me." "But what of his family? Or his life? Do you never think that each individual you so casually slaughter has an entire existence of his own?" "Not really, no. He is prey and I am the Hunter. I either catch him or I do not. If he escapes, he lives another day. If he falls beneath my blade, I live another day. Do you feel remorse when you eat? Does it bother you that the food need was once a living organism before you killed it to consume?" "Of course not. That is a ridiculous statement. Plants and animals have no soul. And I do not drink people to death." Victria shrugged. "The concept is still the same, but if you still begrudge me my meal, then consider this... he died so you did not have to." She paused and let a small fraction of the Hunter rise to the surface, holding his gaze so that he was unable to look away. "Now before we waste any more time arguing over how much of a monster I am, I suggest you use the terminal to download their plans so we can leave." He shook himself out of his stare as Victria finally glanced away and moved to the room console, placing both hands on the control panel. Commands flashed across the screen faster than the eye could follow. Suddenly they stopped, displaying the central core security lockout. R'eln slumped further over the console, his head dropping. "We have a problem." "What?" Standing near the door in case of intrusion, she stared his back. "When I break through their security measures, the entire complex will be on full alert and will know our location. I can reroute the inquiry through several different levels so we will not be immediately traced, but I doubt we will have more than five or six minutes before they find us here." "Check to see if my shuttle is still docked, how long it will take us to reach it, and then complete the download. After you have what you need, I want you to disable all of their systems. Shut down everything except life support and make it extremely difficult for them to repair. We will take the maintenance tubes again to avoid detection." R'eln nodded and peered back at the screen, manipulating the controls again. "It is necessary, I suppose, though I dislike wanton destruction." Victria snorted and turned her attention to the door once more. "Something humorous?" He asked dryly without glancing in her direction. "More ironic than anything," she replied, still listening for any movement in the hallway. "I am in one of the most important compounds of the species I loathe most, with you -- who has suffered much at their hands... pincers... -- and you hesitate to cripple them." "I told you that we were not bred for violence." "That is quite possibly the biggest understatement of the millennium. Were you anything else but a Shalia, you would revel in the chance you have now." "We only wish to be let alone," he replied quietly, "And you never will be until the Scorpiad are fully eradicated," she replied, just as quietly. Alarms suddenly began to blare throughout the compound and Victria swung her head to watch R'eln work. The information flowing across the screen was moving faster than even she could process, but he seemed to be having no trouble. Impatiently she waited, her posture tense as she heard the first sounds of booted feet pounding down the corridor. She had already engaged the door's locking mechanism, but no one attempted to bypass it to enter. Apparently the diversion had worked as planned and the soliders were headed to a false location to apprehend intruders that were not there. "Done," he announced as he pulled a data storage chip from the console and tucked it into his boot. "Good. Now destroy their central core beyond repair," she ordered, staring at him again. "Win a small victory for your people, R'eln." He frowned, but reconnected with the terminal. Immediately, the lights went dark and dim orange emergency lighting appeared to outline the floor and door. She heard the air processors shut down as well, though they resumed function at half power a few moments later. Victria nodded in satisfaction and left her position at the door. "You saw the layout and memorized it, I am sure. Lead the way," she opened the room's maintenance hatch and waited for him to crawl inside. As he passed, she smiled to herself, savoring the fear he radiated. For some strange reason, she still made him nervous...

Question: What kind of bear is best? False. Black bear. Fact: Bears eat beets. Bears, Beets, Battlestar Galactica.

Awesome log, Segami. :lol: As usual... Dox, check out This log for more clues.

Her first conscious thought as she rose to a state of awareness was that she needed to feed. Her second conscious thought was that she needed to feed immediately or she would go mad. As her mind slowly began to focus, Victria realized that she was not alone. Someone was in the room with her and it was not Siyar -- it wasn't even an Al-Ucard. She could hear the rapid beating of his heart and could smell the fear he radiated. The scent of him was tantalizing. It brought her to full awareness and, as she began to move, she heard his heartbeat increase. Without pausing to survey her surroundings, Victria spun in the direction of the warm body, leapt to her feet, and lunged! But, having moved no more than few steps, the collar about her neck -- the one she hadn't even realized she wore -- took hold. She jerked against an invisible chain and slammed into the floor, hands clawing at the device. Rolling backwards, she jumped to her feet and shot forward again, only to have the invisible chain jerk her back a second time. Choking, she retreated and did not make another attempt. Panting, she looked up to glare across the room, only then realizing that she was in a cell. The force field behind her hummed softly, but the rest of the room seemed to be made of some sort of metal. Several feet thick, no doubt, if it was designed to hold Victria's kind. There were lights in the ceiling, but they were not active. Though the room was in near darkness, she could plainly see the creature that huddled across the room from her. "We are being tortured, in case you were wondering," the warm-blooded almost-meal stated. "They have set your collar to extend to a certain point, leaving you unable to feed. The only exit lies behind you. I could open it if I could reach it, but in your state, you would rip out my throat before I made it to that point." "Shalia," she growled. "You are one of them. I have never tasted your kind. Come closer." "I am perfectly content to sit here at the moment," he grunted, his voice shaking only slightly. "If you can deactivate the door, you can deactivate this collar." Her fingers pulled at the device, intending to shatter it in her hands. "Of course I could, but I am not an imbecile. You are, after all, my personal torture, selected to keep me from walking out of this cell. I am well aware of what an Al-Ucard can do to a chosen victim. It is the reason we have been in hiding for centuries. And I would not damage that collar if I were you. I believe it is set to explode if tampered with." Victria hissed and crawled forward until the collar began to cut into her neck. Her fingernails scratched at the cold metal floor as she vainly tried to reach the Shalia. Fangs bared as her intended victim cringed, still a few feet out of reach, she pushed against the invisible restraint until it threatened to crush her windpipe. Shaking from fatigue, she finally collapsed within the collar's range and lay gasping. Cheek pressed against the cold floor, she closed her eyes, fighting the urge to try again. "I cannot control it. I have no wish to harm you, but I cannot control it. I have lost... much blood." "I know. Siyar has explained to me in detail what her plans for me are, and I'm sure you have suffered more as she intends to kill you once she is done toying with you. They need me alive, on the other hand. I am not sure which is worse." "Me either," she said weakly. Her body had not yet totally regenerated from Siyar's attention. The ultraviolet burns were the least of her wounds. And now that she was weak from lack of blood, Siyar teased her with the promise of a meal she could not reach, intending to drive her into insanity. Perhaps eventually she would simply expose her to full sunlight and let her burn alive, but Victria doubted it would be any time soon. Siyar was too good at what she did. "Free us and I will not harm you," Victria murmured as she opened her eyes to stare at the male Shalia. The Hunger rose inside of her at just the sight of him and it took every shred of willpower to not fling herself at the electronic barrier. "Forgive me if I cling to my disbelief. Al-Ucardian promises are easily made and easily broken." :"And I would say no more. We are being monitored. Until I disable their systems, they can see and hear everything we do.": Victria blinked and stared at the Shalia, surprised into ignoring her hunger for a brief moment. She had not known that the Shalia were telepathic. :"I am not telepathic, if that is what you are thinking. I cannot receive your thoughts, but I know that you can receive mental messages on a certain frequency. The brain is, after all, a highly developed machine. If you can hear me, signal by trying to grab my leg.": She growled and flung her hand as far out as she could reach, trying to grab his outstretched leg. She strained against the collar again as he drew back against the wall. :"Good. I have been thinking on this for quite some time and have decided on the best course of action. We were put here with the intention of remaining at odds, but I think they underestimate us both. You are an Al-Ucard, but not one of them. I have learned much in the past few days. I know who you are, Victria, and that you are no longer aligned with the Scorpiad. You need blood. I will give it to you in a small quantity -- enough to give you more self control. If you kill me, you will never be free of this place. You know this and so you will control yourself. I will loop their monitors from previous recordings and give us a small amount of time to escape. Signal that you understand.": Collapsing again, she offered the barest of nods to indicate that she could hear him. :"I can deactivate your collar and the field. When we reach a core terminal, I can also download sensitive information on why the Scorpiad are here. I know that is what you seek. I was sent to retrieve it as well. I had not counted on Siyar, however. She is ruthless in her mission. To the point, I need you to handle any resistance on our way back to your ship. I was not created to fight or kill and could not possibly defend myself against Al-Ucard or Scorpiad. Do you agree to this plan?": "Yesssss. Come closer," she begged. The Shalia rose from his crouch and pressed himself against the wall. Moving along the length of the cell as though to skirt Victria's portion, he held one hand flat against the cold metal until he felt the electronic thrum of computer circuitry. It took only a few moments for him to access the monitor feed and set it in an endless loop from previous footage. He was careful to remove any of their dialogue. "We are not being watched," he finally said as he moved next to her. "I will give you my wrist and reclaim it when I think you have had enough." He stretched out his arm across the barrier for her to take. She needed no other invitation. Grabbing his arm as she sat up, she yanked his entire body to her and crushed him against her. She barely noticed his wide-eyed expression of shock and surprise as she pushed his head to one side and sank her fangs into his neck. He struggled against her, but the warm fluid that she took from him made her stronger even as it weakened him. Lost in the Hunger, she continued to drain him, unable to stop herself. Without warning, the collar around her neck jerked her back and flung her against the force field. The shock of the energy field ripped through her and she lost her grip on the Shalia. Weakly, he scrambled back out of reach, one hand pressed to his neck. Clawing at the collar, Victria attempted to rip it free, arching her back in pain as the field sizzled against her skin. Dragging himself to his feet, the Shalia placed his hand against the electronic collar. The pressure decreased and she fell to her knees, gasping. "I... am sorry," she panted. "I tried to stop, but could not. I think it will be enough now, however." Slowly, she rose to her feet, sensing the invisible barrier that still lay between them. He had retreated well out of range until she could compose herself and she was thankful for the brief respite. "I understand. It is why I left the collar active, though you moved faster than I had expected." Though he had one hand pressed to his neck, blood continued to flow from the jagged wound where she had ripped through his flesh. "Let me help you," she said calmly when she finally caught her breath. "I can close your wound for you. I have certain coagulants that can speed the healing process." Her hand rose and beckoned him, each move slow and deliberate to show that she was in control of her own actions and not a pawn to her Hunger. Hesitantly, he neared, pausing a few inches away to gauge her reaction. When she did not move, he closed the distance, placing one hand on her collar to adjust it again should he feel her fangs penetrate. Slowly, very slowly, Victria drew his wound to her lips and ran her tongue along the torn flesh to coat the surface. A shiver of pleasure rolled through her as she tasted his blood once again. When she felt herself reach the edge of her self-control, she pushed him roughly away and staggered backward a few steps. "Disable the field and we will head for my ship," she said breathlessly, refusing to look at him. "There will be a terminal along the way, but remaining undetected will be difficult." "As long as no one stops to physically check on us, the security feed will keep them occupied." The Shalia moved to the force field and placed his hand on the control panel, deactivating it after only a few moments. He put it back into place once they had both stepped out of the cell. "An alternate route through this complex would help us, however." Victria nodded, her gaze drifting up to the ceiling in what seemed to be the central holding area. "Access points in the ceiling and walls indicate maintenance tubes. I remember the general layout from glancing at the schematics, though I do not know the location of all the access points. Perhaps there will be a terminal where you can download a map of the complex." "We need to leave now," he said, moving to what appeared to be a maintenance hatch in the wall. She followed, though tried to keep as much distance between them as she possibly could. His blood had taken the edge off her need, but the Hunger was still there, pushing her to find another meal. His scent filled her nostrils, the taste of his life-blood lingered on her lips, and she clutched at the wall to keep from launching herself at him. "Let me go first," she ordered, rather than suggested. "Wait," he said, grabbing her arm just before she entered the hatch. Victria hissed in frustration and steeled herself, turning to face him. Her icy gaze traveled from his hand to his face and she bared her fangs in an entirely unfriendly gesture. He seemed to recognize the danger in her expression because he quickly let go. "What?" "My name is R'eln." "A pleasure to meet you, R'eln," the sarcasm in her voice evident. "And if you intend to escape from this place alive, do not touch me again. Until I feed, you are the closest meal and I am not certain how long I can contain myself." Turning back to the hatch, she crawled inside and began to head for the docking port where her ship waited -- she hoped. Behind her, she could hear R'eln in his efforts to stay with her without being too close. At least while they crawled, the scent of his blood was not too overpowering. Soon, she told herself. Soon she would find someone she could drain completely. Otherwise, R'eln would not be traveling as far as he thought...

Nice log, kitty. :D

(( Again, special thanks to Col. Harper for her excellent play as the Al-Ucard Siyar. )) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Her pulse was all but nonexistent. Victria could feel the poison spreading through her system, slowly inching toward her vital organs. Her self-induced coma had only delayed the inevitable. Every moment she struggled toward consciousness was another moment of life that slipped away. Even so, she had to risk death to save herself from death. In a state of inner awareness, she began to filter the poison from her system, using her body's own antibodies to cluster around the toxin and force it back on the path from whence it came. It was an arduous process, particularly when one was only in a half state of awareness. Scorpiad venom in general, Androct venom in particular, was a horribly painful method of death. It spread through the body like any other disease, but could not be stopped by normal methods. It first immobilized by effectively shutting down the nervous system, but were also said to voraciously attack all other internal organs as well, eating the victim from the inside out and dissolving all fleshy materials in its path. Victria had only heard tales of these effects, but as the stories involved the Scorpiad, she doubted they were exaggerated. She had no intention of dying at the hands of the Scorpiad or any of their brainwashed minions. It had taken the destruction of an entire Al-Ucardian fleet and her own near death to make her realize just how little she or her people mattered to the ruthless conquerors. The Scorpiad were once the greatest myth of her people, worshipped as gods and followed with undying devotion. Some fanatics still remained, but Victria was officially disenchanted with the entire race. The hole in her shoulder only cemented her new opinion. After what seemed several lifetimes, tainted blood began to trickle from her wound. To repel the infected, she had to reject some of her own life-sustaining fluid, but it could not be helped. Pushing the majority of the venom out of her body was almost more than she could handle. Some would linger still, but not enough to truly matter. At last, the flesh of her shoulder began to heal, fusing together as she allowed her body's natural defenses to react normally. Exhausted from the effort, Victria blacked out once more, though this time not of her own volition. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I see you've regenerated rather quickly. We'll put that to the test soon." Siyar's voice roused Victria from her blissful state of unawareness, dragging her back to reality and the pain of her healing body. Her ribs ached as she took an experimental breath, muscles and flesh surrounding newly knitted bones still tender from the recent trauma. Without opening her eyes, she flexed her aching muscles to test the bonds that held her. She'd been secured in some sort of chair, held by strong metal bands at her stomach, wrists, and ankles. She thought they might buckle with enough pressure, but now was not the time to test her theory. "You do know this is pointless. The information you want is not within my grasp. I have no knowledge of Federation plans or strategies." Eyelids parted slightly, careful to acclimate to the room's brilliant illumination. "For your sake," Siyar replied, "I hope you are lying. Otherwise, you've just made yourself useless to me and I can dispose of you on a whim." She fingered the blade that rested at her hip, looking thoughtful. "You could, but I doubt your Scorpiad masters would take your word for it." "No, they will not be satisfied unless you suffer." Siyar grinned, baring her fangs as she slowly circled Victria's chair. "Fortunately, I do not intend to let you die without exacting some retribution for your treachery." "The only treachery that exists is being cultivated by the Scorpiad! They use us and our people without thought for our welfare," Victria said through clenched teeth. "We are nothing but expendable tools to them! We have been nothing but tools since the beginning when we scoured the system in search of Changelings to eradicate. At least in those times we were given rank and honor according to our duties. Now, we are simply an acceptable loss of their tactical resistance." Hotly, the other woman argued, "The Scorpiad created us! They made us what we are. We are subject to their laws and their orders because without them, we are nothing!" Siyar closed in, hissing slightly as her fervent belief translated to heated words. Victria bared her fangs in response, glaring. "We existed before they subdued our world and perverted our genetic makeup in order to fulfill their obsession for ultimate dominance. We do not need them and they have no right to be worshipped." "You will suffer even more for your lies," Siyar snapped. Victria watched her captor as she reached behind the chair, pulling forth an attached swing-arm that supported a small device. Making several careful adjustments, Siyar locked the cylindrical device into place, aiming it at the newly grown skin on Victria's shoulder. Once everything was settled to her satisfaction, her gaze sought Victria's once more. "Normally, I would simply drain you and study whatever memories I could discern, but the toxin in your blood makes that impossible at this time," she explained, shaking her head with an expression of mock regret. "So while I wait for your body to filter the remaining traces, we shall explore some... alternate avenues of information gathering." Siyar patted the device affectionately. "All of which will fail," Victria said without hesitation, knowing she would never bend, buckle, or cave. The realization shocked her. Why would she keep Federation secrets? She was not permanently affixed to them. What allegiance did she owe them? In truth, she did not owe them anything; she owed Ah-Windu. But even that excuse was only a surface layer that hid the complex core within. Her primary motivation was now the complete destruction of the Scorpiad and the end of their dynasty. The Federation was the only group that had even the slightest chance of succeeding in that quest. "Probably," Siyar replied smoothly, "but I doubt I will grow tired of the attempts." The device was activated with a short keyed sequence. It began to hum softly, the tone deep and flat. Slowly, the pitch began to climb, each progressive note higher than the last until it reached a level that would be torture to the sensitive ears of an Al-Ucard. Fortunately for Victria, the piercing noise lasted only a few moments. It cut off abruptly and a beam of concentrated light exploded from the cylinder's lens and focused on Victria's shoulder. At first, the light had no effect, but after a few moments Victria experienced the painful beginnings. Newly formed skin itched with maddening ferocity and then began to burn in earnest. The creamy expanse of her shoulder erupted in hundreds of blisters, as though the skin itself was being boiled. Her fingernails screeched across the slick metal of her chair as they clambered for something to dig into. As the flesh began to dissolve, peeling away to reveal the musculature underneath, she arched her body against her bonds, straining as she willed them to break. Her head slammed against the back of her chair, fangs piercing her lower lip as she choked down the screams. "Concentrated ultraviolet," Siyar commented as she deactivated the beam. "Ten times more powerful than that given off by any known star and far more than our light-sensitive bodies can withstand." Almost tenderly, she brushed a stray lock of hair away from Victria's ear, leaning close to whisper, "Did you enjoy it?" Panting, Victria opened her eyes to glare, her tongue wiping away spilled blood from her lower lip. In a matter of moments, the flesh of her shoulder had healed over again, hiding her previous wounds and regenerating in spite of the more recent damage. Teeth clenched, she strained against the bands securing her wrists, wanting nothing more in that exact moment than to see Siyar's head removed from her body. Siyar stepped back, laughing softly. "Nicely done, traitoress," she praised. "You've already recovered from your first dose. Let's see how you fare with the second, shall we?" Now grinning maliciously, Siyar's hand slid toward the activation switch. "This could provide hours of entertainment. Do you think you can survive that long?" "Even longer," Victria spat back defiantly, but as the ultraviolet beam shot forth again and buried itself in her shoulder, she quickly began to have her doubts.

(( Special thanks to Col. Harper for her excellent play as the Al-Ucard Siyar. )) ---------------------------------------------------------------- Victria had ventured off on her third tangent while debriefing with General X'tkkenn. She found it strange that he would ask her about seemingly insignificant details, but thus far he had recorded every word she'd given him. She could sense the chemicals he exuded in place of actual emotions and she knew that he was pleased - so pleased that he had allowed her a seat on one of the short backless chairs in his office. Victria glanced to the door as it opened, wondering who would have the gall to interrupt when the General had expressly ordered privacy. Another Al-Ucard, looking tired but pleased, entered. She took five swift paces into the room before lowering to one knee. "Great One," she murmured, bowing her head, and waited. "If you are interrupting, you have something to report." The Scorpiad had half risen out from behind the desk, seemingly agitated -- or excited -- by the new arrival. "You have succeeded or you would not have returned." "I have, General," the newcomer said, lifting her head. "I have one of the Shalia in custody." "Excellent." The General's mandibles twitched rapidly, rubbing against each other in a harsh, grating sound. "I am most pleased. Sit. I wish the rest of the details as soon as I finish with the scout." He waved a pincer in Victria's direction. "Continue." Siyar rose gracefully, glancing towards the scout with little interest. Then she froze, and looked again. "You!" Victria had not moved from her chosen seat and she seemed to be relaxed, though her instincts were screaming for her to attack. She had recognized Siyar from their previous encounter, when the woman had been Hunting "ghosts". Victria and Corizon had killed most of the Al-Ucard, but Siyar had escaped to her ship. Her expression still neutral, she regarded the other female. "Nataka of the House Fallonn," she stated, giving her assumed name. Her hand drifting towards her weapons, Siyar glared fiercely at the other woman. "I think not," she hissed. "Traitoress! Pawn of the Federation! You dare show your face here?" "Mindless fool." Victria hissed in return, launching herself from her stool in the next moment. She'd covered the distance between them in a matter of moments, drawing dual blades in one fluid motion. Siyar was just as quick to draw her blades, meeting Victria's charge. "The only fool here is you," she snapped, kicking a stool aside to give herself more room for this fight. General X'tkkenn had risen from behind the desk and sat watching them, claws extended and pincers clacking rapidly in excitement. His rear segment had arched upward and he extended his tail, the deadly tip poised to strike. He seemed content to watch them kill each other, however, and did not move once in his stance. Victria's blades swept through the air where Siyar had been, inches from the woman's pale skin, but it seemed the other Al-Ucard had reflexes to match her own. She whirled in her attack, one blade flung toward her enemy's heart and yet another appearing from her sleeve to take its place. Fangs bared in hatred, she hissed again. Throwing herself forward, Siyar rolled and came up inside Victria's guard, stabbing upwards with the longer of her two blade. She snarled her rage when the traitoress skipped backwards and the blade sliced only air. Backed into the wall, Victria used it as a springboard, vaulting over the other's head to attack from behind. She swept Siyar's legs from beneath her and pounced to drive her blades through her neck. Siyar's breath rushed from her lungs with a whoosh as her back impacted the stone floor. Only long training brought her blade up, reaching for her attacker's stomach. Shifting to one side to avoid the blade, Victria's strike went askew. She rolled away before Siyar could bring her other dagger into play and leapt to her feet to prepare for another lunge. Scrambling up with more haste than grace, Siyar braced herself for Victria's rush. When it came, she raised a blade to block -- and then dropped it, reaching past the other woman's weapon to seize her arm and turn her. She flung Victria away from her, and saw with great satisfaction that the General was in the line of flight. Slamming into the solidly constructed desk, Victria gasped for breath as she felt the impact shatter several ribs. Peering up, she saw the Scorpiad General looming over her, but had only a moment to register the danger. Faster than she could process, excruciating pain blossomed from her shoulder. Looking down, she stared incredulously at the nearly foot-long stinger that extruded from her shoulder. The tip glistened with the Androct's fatal brand of poison. As the Scorpiad lifted his tail segment, Victria found herself dangling several feet off the ground. She could already feel the effects of the poison as it entered her system. Decreasing her heart rate and metabolism to slow the venom, Victria did the only thing any person could have done in that situation -- she passed out. Dangling the limp Al-Ucard before him in study, the Scorpiad finally tilted his stinger and shook her off, letting her drop with a thud onto the desk. "If she lives, I want her interrogated," he ordered, waiting for Siyar to remove the body. "If she is spying for the Federation, the information she gave me was false. Get me the factual data, by whatever means necessary. Then dispose of her." A fierce grin of triumph tugged at Siyar's lips, baring her fangs. "Most gladly, General."

Sometime before... "I've not yet learned who will be accompanying me on this mission," Victria said as she entered the captain's office without waiting for permission. "Didn't I once tell you to never do that again?" Ah-Windu growled with annoyance as he glanced up from his reports. "In your quarters, yes. Not your office," she retorted, leaning forward to rest both her hands on his desk. "The mission?" "You are to go alone," he said after a brief pause. "Alone?" Both eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. "This is a one person mission." "How do you know I will voluntarily return?" Her fingertips slid along the smooth surface as she rounded the desk. "I don't," he said curtly, watching her. "You still don't trust me." "Not completely, no." "Then why send me alone?" "I have no other choice." "Your high opinion of me is astounding." She smirked, shifting to take a seat on his desk without regard for the datapadds stacked there. Corizon frowned at her for a long moment. "Victria, why are you here?" he finally asked. "You could have commed me for this information." "You told me it was a secret matter." "Yes. It is, and of the highest importance. Have you told anyone?" "Of course not." "Not even Segami?" He regarded her skeptically. "No." "You two seem... comfortable with one another." "We've socialized over a few drinks." Her smile indicated more than simply "socializing", but she shrugged noncommittally. "He has taken to badgering me about your status. He seems... protective of you." "He is protective of all of his crewmen. Perhaps you should give him a solid answer rather than dance around the issue." "He hasn't asked me for the details of this mission. Are you sure you didn't reveal anything?" "Of course not." "Why not? He is your superior officer." "You told me not to." "Since when does the officer hierarchy mean anything to you?" "It doesn't," she said quietly, holding his gaze as the silence lengthened. "Why are you really here?" he finally asked. "I wanted to see you. Just in case," she admitted. "In case... you don't return?" "Yes. You know the risks involved." "Yes," he said after a moment of thought. "I know, but you are highly skilled and I believe you will succeed." "A comforting thought." She slid from his desk and held out her right hand to him in what she'd learned was the standard humanoid greeting. "My ship will be departing soon." "I'll be on the station. I have other matters to attend to," he said as shook her hand. "Good luck." Before he could withdraw, she gripped his arm with her left hand and slowly pulled it to her lips. Fangs bared to pierce the tender flesh of his wrist, she hesitated just before biting down, her icy blue eyes watching him. She could read nothing in his expression, though her finely tuned senses detected his elevated heart rate. With only the slightest smile hinting that she could hear the increase in his pulse, she turned his hand face up and kissed him lightly in the center of his palm. Finally releasing him, she slipped away and moved for the door. "Victria..." She paused, turning slightly just before the door opened. Sir? Captain? No, it wasn't the Captain speaking to her at that moment. "Ah-Windu?" "I would not have stopped you." "I know." "Then why?" "I'm not sure." She paused, staring at him from across the office. "Perhaps it is simply to give me another incentive to make it back alive. Perhaps I just hate to rush things, and I have a feeling that when I return, we're going to need plenty of time for... discussions. Incidentally, if I return with my life, I will expect to be richly rewarded." "Promotion?" "How unimaginative. I'll give you a few weeks to think up something better." She half-smiled, then disappeared into the corridor. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sometime after... "You were supposed to be here two days ago." The male Eritan bared his teeth in frustration but did not look at her as they navigated the corridor. "I had difficulties extracting myself. I came as soon as I was able." Victria ignored his attitude, glancing instead at the wall panels that they passed. When she spotted one that displayed the command center's layout, she memorized the information for later use. "I dislike excuses. Your absence was noted and questions were asked." "I am not excusing myself. I am simply stating the facts. My progress was sent along in a full report." "We received no such report." "That is not my concern. It was sent and my transport's logs prove that it was sent. If you wish to read it, it is still stored in the databanks." "I shall do just that. If I find you are lying, you will not leave this station alive." "Your threats are of little concern to me. Do your job and I shall do mine. Where am I meeting with the Androct General?" "General X'tkkenn is waiting for you in his office on the tertiary platform." The Eritan stopped suddenly and grabbed her arm, swinging her around to face him. "Insolence will not be tolerated. Remember, that you are disposable and easily replaced." Victria yanked her arm from his grasp and pushed him away with a slight snarl. "Last I checked, you were no Scorpiad. You should remember your own words, Mrtan. You are disposable and I doubt you would be missed if I ripped out your throat to assuage my growing Hunger. I've not yet had time to feed." Mrtan snarled in response, but made no other move to stop her as she stepped into the newly arrived conveyance. Victria offered him one last warning flash of her fangs as the doors closed and the lift began to move upward. Counting the decks as they flashed by, she aligned her memory with that of the wall map she'd seen to get a better idea of where she was headed. Had she the inclination to be nervous, this would have been the appropriate time. She was about to willingly walk into the office of a Scorpiad that may or may not decide to let her walk out. The Androct sub-species was known to be aggressive at times, but she was hoping that this general's rational thinking would prevail. She was not bringing ill news, after all, but rather secrets that might serve to elevate him in status. Fortunately, her experience with fear was limited to the delicious scent of the emotion that she sensed from her prey. As she stepped out of the lift, her lips curved into a slight smile at the thought of Hunting again. Surely there would be such provisions made for her on the Scorpiad's complex. As a mere Al-Ucard, she was usually considered below their notice, but they had been known to reward their faithful underlings from time to time, especially those that did excelled in their assigned tasks. Perhaps she might be able to find a Lucam or two in the complex that they would allow her to Hunt. Some of the Scorpiad had been known to find such Hunts entertaining, especially when it resulted in death - as it usually did. The general's office door opened and she stepped inside, taking the mandated five steps before she dropped to one knee and bowed her head. It was against her nature to debase herself in front of anyone, but the Scorpiad demanded it. The Al-Ucard worshipped their Masters or they would be eradicated. From her vantage, she could see nothing but the natural stone flooring that some of the cave-dwelling Scorpiad preferred, but she could hear the General moving about. Victria waited patiently, knowing that he would acknowledge her as soon as he felt she'd remembered her place in the chain-of-command. However, with the information she had at her disposal, she knew he would not keep her waiting for long. After no more than a few minutes, she heard the shifting of his various body segments rubbing together and his mandibles began to clack. "Al-Ucard. Your name for the record." "Great One, I am the Al-Ucard Nataka of the House Fallonn, Nightstalker and loyal subject to the Androct and all Scorpiad." "You have information to give me." "Yes, General," she replied neutrally, careful to keep her gaze on the floor. "Good. You will start with everything you know about the Federation, their technology, their response to our hold on the wormhole, and when they are next planning to attack. I want everything you know from the time you spent studying them and their habits." "As you will it, General," she replied without emotion. "I shall first tell you where their weaknesses lie..."

I think this accurately reflects the beginning of the Scorpiads' psychological complex and why they feel the need to conquer everyone. Forest friends must die.

"It occurred to me that we've not formally met." Lieutenant JoNs leaned back in her seat as she watched Victria attempt to access one of the consoles in the security office. "Strange to have stalked an escapee together and not have been introduced." "Fellow Hunters need no introduction. I suspect that stalking is the same everywhere," Victria remarked without glancing up from the infernal computer system. She still had not totally meshed with Federation technology, though she was much better at reading the language. Her scowl deepened as she pressed yet another button and the screen refused to display the information she needed. She bared her fangs in frustration. "I had that same reaction the other day," Left Ear commented, her own fangs bared in a slight smile. "Sometimes this technology can still have its quirks." "I could live without it. Such crude technology," Victria muttered without looking from the screen. She pressed yet another sequence of buttons and information began to scroll across the screen. It was not, however, the records for which she'd been searching. Balling her fist, she turned her chair away from the console before she smashed it to pieces. "But to your first comment, I do know who you are and that you are called Left Ear." "Aye. And you are Victria? Have you been serving on the Excalibur long?" "No. Not long, though sometimes it seems the opposite." Victria tapped the tab on her collar, indicating her status at a provisional Ensign. They still hadn't managed to get her into a proper uniform, though. "I'm sure you outrank me." Left Ear inclined her caramel-maned head in respect to her fellow crewmate. "My rank is that of a junior grade lieutenant. I am a transfer from Sky Harbor Aegis. Or rather, what remains of Aegis. I felt the need to... reapply... to starship duty." She had no desire to further expound on the subject, and hoped the woman wasn't the prying type. "A career officer, then." Victria did not quite contain her contempt, though it was directed more at the idea than the officer. "Excellent timing on your part. I'm sure it is only a matter of time before the Scorpiad overpower the ship and blow us all into oblivion." Left Ear's tail lashed once. "Those Scorpiads are damn annoying little petaqs." "I am not quite certain what a 'petaq' is, but can guess at the meaning." Her ice-blue gaze studied the other female for a moment. "They are a determined enemy." "That they are." JoNs left out that they were butt ugly as well. "What is it that you wish to access?" She pointed toward the console with a paw. "Sensor records of their ship in our last encounter with the Scorpiad. I might be able to pick out and translate any communications that were otherwise missed." Frowning as yet another error message was displayed on the screen. "May I?" JoNs reached a tawny furred paw to the console, and entered a series of commands, bringing up the required data. "Now, before you get angered, it took me five hours to figure out those shortcuts to the information. And, then there is always the swift kick method." "I was afraid I might damage the console, as in put a hole through the casing." She smiled thinly, studying the information as it scrolled across the screen. Adding to the previous sequence, she shipped the entire package to her private quarters to review at her leisure. It would probably take hours to sift through all the data, but she had little else in her off hours except visit the holodeck. She fed as little as possible and slept even less. "Your help is... appreciated. I'm not sure what would happen if I suddenly turned violent in Main Security." Deadpan, the Caitian replied with, "I am sure it would be mass chaos, carnage, extreme panic. Sounds like fun." She purred a bit and offered a smile. "No worries, as I am glad to help. Now, you had mentioned you are of the Al-Ucard?" Her eyes gleamed with a feline curiosity. "Yes." Closing down the search - she at least knew how to do that - Victria straightened and returned her attention to JoNs. "Victria, of the House Mordan. Nightstalker. Hunter. Pawn of the Scorpiad, as are all my people. They have many such races they use in such fashion, of which our latest guest is an example." The security lieutenant responded in kind. "MVess, of the family JoNs, tribe Honorscar, and clan Shadow Pride. I gather you have had dealings with these...things before? And I apologize for my crassness - I am not a huge fan of bugs." The Caitian decided to save her questions regarding "Nightstalker" and "Hunter". One crisis at at time. "Dealings." Victria bared her teeth again. "An interesting way to put it. You should delve into the reports on my people for the entire history, but to summarize - they created my people for a specific purpose, abandoned us to our own bloodlust when we were no longer useful, and reclaimed us to throw us blindly at the Federation when they decided another conquest was necessary." Her investigative instincts going on all thrusters, JoNs regarded the woman. "Yet, you serve here on the Excalibur?" There was no malice and no accusation in the tone. "And your... bloodlust? You require this to live?" The Caitian was merely attempting to understand her fellow security officer. Her gaze narrowed slightly and she frowned. "As I owe your Captain my life, I find it prudent to do as he requests. I was given a provisional post in exchange for certain knowledge and information and allowed to remain here without being a prisoner." It didn't mean she had to like it, however. Victria did not mention her own biological functions and the thirst that drove her. The Caitian could access a medical report if she wanted the details. Or offer herself as a meal, if she wished. She repressed a slight smile, though she did study the other female's scent to gather what information she could. Left Ear was a bit more blunt then the average Caitian. "You don't seem very happy regarding that situation." Crossing her arms, she leaned a hip casually against another desk console. "Would you be?" Her expression serious, she watched JoNs carefully. After a moment, her lips curved into a slow, wicked grin. "Let's just say that I have problems with authority. Any authority. And I find the lack of sport on board this ship tiresome." A mischievous smile played on the Caitian's lips. "Problems with authority? I'll keep that in mind... Ensign. Authority does have its place, I will admit to that. However, there are times when it can be cumbersome, shall we say? As for the hunting as sport, I don't believe I can help you with that, but I do have some interesting holo programs - they combine stealth with tracking a target, relying solely on your own personal skills?" "Something in which I would be interested. I have my own programs, but they are all random scenarios. Anything new would be welcomed." Her nostrils flared slightly. "So you do not Hunt? Those claws of yours are simply for show?" JoNs paused for a few seconds, choosing her words carefully. She eyed the Al-Ucard. "Killing or maiming with our claws is very much considered a modern social taboo in my culture. I keep them trimmed, as do most of my kind. However," she wiggled her paw digits as the claws slid out. "They are very much functional." A wickedly mischievous grin bared the Caitians fangs as well. "And do the killing of holographic creatures fall under the category of 'forbidden' in your culture?" Though she knew that some Federation species considered the baring of teeth to be friendly, a part of her still considered the act to be a challenge. Her upper lip drew back off her fangs, but she did manage not to hiss. "What one does on their off time is their own affair. I myself do not kill during holodeck time." Her fangs still showing, she gave Victria a hard stare. "That's a pity." Victria glanced away for a moment as several people in the area had paused in their work to watch the exchange. Her slight snarl slid into an easy smile and she chuckled. "Perhaps this is not the place to discuss such things. Though I'm sure some of the males in here would pay to see... a cat fight." Relaxing, JoNs purred a bit. "Aye, this is a conversation best saved for later. Base creatures they are, these males." "Nice to formally meet you Ensign Victria." Left Ear offered a paw to the Al-Ucardian Victria glanced down to the offered hand, but clasped it without hesitation, remembering not to squeeze too hard. It was a greeting, not a challenge. "And you, Lieutenant JoNs. Welcome to ship security." This time her smile had a little more 'friendly' in it and a little less 'I could rip your throat out if I wanted'. She was slowly getting the hang of it.

ROFL

"See something you don't like?" Victria emerged from the shadows of Corizon's quarters, pale skin sharply contrasted against the black she wore. How long had she been lurking without him sensing her there? Fluid movements brought her ever closer, icy gaze fixed on his face. She wore her usual half smirk, obviously amused by something. "Your heart rate is elevated and your pupils are slightly dilated. Nightmare?" A low growl escaped his lips. His fists unrolled and his claws extended. "Breaking into a senior officer's quarters, let alone your commanding officer's, is a serious offense, Ensign." How long had she been standing there? How could he have missed her? Was he really so wrapped in his own problems that he'd become inattentive? "The door was unlocked and you didn't answer the chimes. I feared for your safety." It was a blatant lie and he knew it, but he'd never be able to prove otherwise. She moved closer still, ignoring the challenge in his voice and movement. When she was only inches away, she paused and inhaled deeply. "But while I have you alone, now is the perfect time for us to... talk." "Talk? About what?" He said coldly. "Since the discovery of the Al-Ucard attack, your attitude toward me has changed. I've seen the glances you've thrown my way when you thought I wasn't looking. It is as though you've suddenly realized what it is you've brought on board..." She leaned forward, lips close to his ear as she whispered. "... a monster." "It's not you that I fear," his voice shaken for the first time. Eyes closing, his ears flattened back. Pearly fangs gleamed as she smiled. "No, it isn't. I know the truth. I've read the files and reports. I know what you are. I know what you've done. You hear the tales of the monstrous Al-Ucard and their slaughter, and you fear... that you are no different." Ignoring for the moment that she'd broken into his files, he turned to face her. "I am nothing like you... or them." "If you tell yourself that enough, perhaps you will begin to believe it." She snapped her teeth in contempt. "The smell of fresh blood excites you. The scent of fear on your prey is enough to drive you mad. You are a killer. It comes naturally to you." "You look at me like I am some sort of monster, and perhaps I am... but you are one as well." "I am not a monster," he protested. "I don't kill for pleasure. I only kill when I have to. And when I do kill... I do it surgically. Your people are butchers..." "We Hunt for food. We kill when we have a purpose. The massacre on the ship may have been brutal, but there was a reason behind the attack. They were looking for someone. Your survivor confirmed that." "Don't look at me in disgust when you know you are no better. What would your precious crew say if they ever saw you rip a man limb from limb with your bare hands?" She whispered in his ear again, her warm breath caressing his skin. "Monster... killer... freak..." He snarled at her, looking at her angrily. "You should take care, lest you release the monster you seek..." His breath had warmed, his heart pumping hard and furious. The claws on his hands extended. Corizon always kept control, but that control was rapidly weakening. "So you do admit that there is a dangerous creature lurking beneath that perfectly calm Starfleet facade." She grinned at him, still invading his personal space. "Would you dare let it loose? Are you afraid of what you might do?" Without a blink he'd grabbed her and whirled around, holding her against the wall with one hand. "My people were bred for war. From the earliest days of my life, I've been trained in the art of combat and war..." His claws tightened around her throat and his yellow eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. "And how is that different from me?" She glared at him. Her forearm slammed into his wrist, breaking the hold he had on her. Her other hand, curled into a fist, connected with his chin, and knocked him back several steps. Tiny rivulets of blood trickled down the pale column of her neck where he had punctured her skin. She pushed off the wall and launched herself at him, tackling him so that they both hit the floor. Snarling as she loomed over his face, she dug her fingernails into his arms. "Combat, war, Hunting... they all lead to killing. Admit you are no different." Showing his own strength, he pushed her off him and reversed their position, placing his powerful hands and claws on her shoulders. Breathing into her ears with heavy growls, he snarled. "You are coming dangerously close to reaching my tolerance." Adrenaline fueled him. The rage inside him welled. The caged beast rattled the hinges. "And if that happens...? You will rip out my throat? Devour my heart?" She grinned up at him as she drew her legs between their bodies and catapulted him off. On her feet in an instant, she darted across the room to follow him, slamming him face first into the wall. Keeping him pinned with her own body, she pressed her lips against his ear. "You prove my point for me, Ah-Windu." He broke her grip and whirled to face her. Looking into her eyes, he pushed her away from him but did not retaliate. "That's where you're wrong..." She ran her tongue over her fangs as she backed away, still staring at him. Besides the blood on her neck, she also had small holes in her shirt where his claws had penetrated, though the wounds had already healed over. "How?" Still holding her gaze. "There is a human saying, 'Take care when fighting monsters, lest you become one.' Somewhere along the way... fighting all the monsters... I might have become one. But you... you were born one and know nothing else." "But that does not mean I cannot change. Since I've been on board, I've done nothing to put you, your crew, or this ship in danger. Would you not agree?" Ears flattened, he stared at her for a long moment, then reluctantly nodded. She drew close, though this time her movements were not threatening. "Then remember that as we continue on this mission. You may see more senseless slaughter, but don't treat me as though I took part in it." Her voice dropped to a whisper as her gaze shifted to where she'd wounded his arm and the blood that oozed from the punctures. "I struggle for control even as you do, but I'm not the one in this room that lost it." He tried to form words, but they wouldn't come. After some time he looked at her, letting a deep breath escape his lips. "If you don't mind... I'd like to be alone." "If that is your wish." She touched his arm briefly, fingers wiping away the blood and bringing it to her lips. "I did not seek you out to start a fight, but only to make you understand. I won't make another attempt." As she reached the door, she paused but did not glance back. "If you would like to continue the conversation - or have anything to say to me, you know where my quarters are located."

“It was like something out of a nightmare. They were...they were demons of darkness. They were pale...and their eyes...they glowed in the darkness of the lifeless ship.” Several rooms away, Victria stood quietly, her sensitive hearing picking out every word of Ah-Windu's conversation with the boy - the only survivor of the freighter that her people had attacked. She could sense the nervousness in the boy's faltering voice and smell the fear that radiated from him as he recounted his experience. His description of her people amused her: demons of darkness. She liked that. It incited fear, and fear was a powerful weapon. As she listened, her fingers caressed the blood-slick throwing star that had recently been embedded in the boy's body. It was a nasty piece of equipment, not meant to be extracted without significant tissue damage. She had examined the markings in detail, but they were merely decorative and held no House affiliation glyphs. That meant that those that attacked the freighter were either rogue (which she thought highly unlikely), or they were not tied to any particular House. Though rare, there were some Nightstalkers that preferred to Hunt without being tied to the rest of society. Some of them simply staked their claim in the Old City. Some banded together in small clans of their own. But there were those that had not forgotten the ancient religions. Those few still worshipped their Scorpiad Masters with the zeal of fanatics and lived every moment to serve them. Of all her kin, they were the most determined - and the most dangerous. She lifted her free hand and licked her fingers clean, savoring the intoxicating flavor. The boy's blood was sweet and untainted and tasted faintly of some unknown world. She wanted more. As she licked the blood from the rest of the sharp blades, flashes of the boy's most recent memories filled her mind - blood / slaughter / death. It wasn't enough to receive a clear picture of what had actually happened, but it did match the story he'd given. If the boy was being used as bait for at trap or some sort of weapon, he was unaware of the fact. He'd not been bitten and had no trace of the virus that all Al-Ucardians carried in their bloodstream. Had his survival simply been fate? She had a hard time convincing herself of that. Her people never did anything without a specific purpose, goal, or order they were following. The attack on the ship, the planted incendiary device, and the sole survivor had all happened for a reason. But what? Perhaps if she could get a larger sample of his blood, she could glean more information about his attackers. How traumatic would it be for the boy to wake up and find her feeding on him? Victria grinned to herself. An evil thought, but she'd never been a saint. It was only a thought, however. She knew the doctors would never let her close enough to scare the boy, much less get another taste of his blood. Slender fingers pressed an obscure release on the throwing star. The blades snapped back into hiding, making the device nothing more than a harmless looking disc. She tucked the disc into one of her pockets thinking it might come in use later. Before Ah-Windu had a chance to leave the boy's bedside, she slipped out of the room and out of medical, heading for Security.

STARFLEET PERSONNEL FILE: Victria Rank: Lieutenant Special status: Ambassador to Al-Ucard Current assignment: Assistant Security Officer, U.S.S. Excalibur -C Previous assignment: Starfleet Intelligence, ATAG (Advanced Tactical Assessment Group), Caspian Facility Date of birth: Unknown Age: Unknown Race: Al-Ucard Height: 1.82 meters (5’11”) Weight: 64.4 kilograms (143 lbs) Eyes: Pale blue Hair: Black Place of birth: Al-Ucard, Gamma Quadrant Clan affiliation: House of Mordan Family: Unknown Marital status: Not mated Starfleet Contact / Career Summary: 0510.27 – First came into contact with crew of U.S.S. Excalibur -B (temporarily assigned to the U.S.S. Morningstar) while the ship landed on the planet for repairs. The incident involved the inadvertent assault and abduction (and subsequent aided rescue) of (then) Commander Corizon Ah-Windu. 0606.04 – Part of the first wave of Al-Ucardian attacks against Federation forces, initiated by the Scorpiad. Rescued as the sole survivor from a badly damaged Al-Ucardian fighter ship shortly after the failed attack. 0608.06 – Offered and accepted a provisional post as Ensign in the U.S.S. Excalibur’s Security department. 0612.17 - Bronze Good Conduct Award (10 consecutive weeks of attendance) 0612.17 - Received Captain's Quill & PADD Award ( Best log / log series for the year ) - Shared with Atticus Segami 0706.03 - Merit Award (Log) 0711.11 - Promoted to Lieutenant, Junior Grade 0711.11 - Transferred to Starfleet Intelligence 0712.02 - Reassigned to the newly commissioned U.S.S. Excalibur -C as Assistant Security, with special assignment under Captain Ah-Windu Corizon 0712.23 - Merit Award (Log) 0712.23 - Received the Excalibur Starburst of Excellence Award ( Best overall combination of attendance, dedication, play, logging, and quality ) 0804.20 - Promoted to Lieutenant 0804.20 - Received one "Get Out of Peril Free" card (won Best Joint Log award in the MM08 log competition) 1105.08 - Received Captain's Quill & PADD Award ( Best log / log series for the year ) - Shared with Mark Garrison Psychological Profile: ** None on file. ** Personal Profile: - Personal Log Entry 0610.08 - Provisional Ensign Victria I do not like to be out of control, but right now, I feel my life is not my own. I am in a strange place, a strange ship, surrounded by strange people. I know little of them or their cultures, only that they are nothing like me and I nothing like them. My frustration has not yet abated. Though their technology allows me to communicate with them, I do not know their language and still struggle with learning how their ship functions. Every fiber of my being rebels against this life, but I can do nothing to change the situation. Not yet. My life is still forfeit. I am alive, but not in control of my destiny. I am not trusted. I cannot feed properly. I cannot Hunt. I can almost feel my senses being dulled by this monotonous place. The lust for blood rises when I least expect it, demanding satisfaction. The replicated fluids I am given taste artificial. The stench pervades my senses. It is enough to keep me alive, but barely. My instincts drive me to sink my teeth into the tender flesh of one of these aliens and sample their lifeforce, but thus far, I have been able to control my actions. The intoxicating smell of untainted life surrounds me, but I am denied the pleasure. The Nightstalker in me lies dormant, but is restless. I do not know how much longer I shall be able to resist. Biological Profile: The average Al-Ucard stands at 1.7 to 1.9 meters, with an athletic to muscular body-type. They can be identified by their pale skin complexions, pale eye color (usually some variation of light blue), and two pair of fanged protrusions in both their upper and lower sets of teeth. Their physical strength and reflexive reactions are elevated and disproportionate to their size. All other features are similar to that of a Terran human. Though the exact nature of their physical make-up is still somewhat a mystery, it is known that all Al-Ucardians carry a transmittable type of viral pathogen in their bloodstream (see Cross-reference: AU-27). This genetically engineered virus has mutated very specific portions their internal systems. For instance, though their circulatory system remains intact, the rate at which blood flows through their bodies is significantly lower than that of a standard human. Their internal organs are able to function with less oxygen and are much quicker to absorb what little is provided. The Al-Ucard do not produce their own erythrocytes. Instead, they rely on the absorption of red-blood cells from other living organisms, requiring replenishment every 3 to 5 days in normal circumstances. Their digestive system is developed to handle large quantities of foreign cells, altering healthy erythrocytes and incorporating them into their circulatory system. Extremely high levels of leukocytes ensure that any impurities from absorbed cells are destroyed, giving them immunity to a wide range of diseases and infections. Their thrombocyte count is elevated, which provides faster healing and clotting (sometimes instantaneous healing of minor wounds). Highly concentrated amounts of thrombocytes have also been found in their saliva, which may serve as some sort of coagulation agent. Most of the Al-Ucard have developed some degree of sensitivity to ultraviolet radiation (and consequently, a decrease of skin pigmentation). It is unknown whether this is the influence of the virus or some other environmental condition. Other senses seemed to have been enhanced as well. Their night vision is extremely acute and they are able process images in even the lowest levels of luminosity (note that this enhancement can be crippling in intense light without some sort of ocular filter). Their hearing is sensitive to a wide spectrum of auditory frequencies. It has also been found that the Al-Ucard use their sense of smell to help remember and identify one another. They are able to sense the chemical reactions and otherwise undetectable pheromone emissions that are a by-product of emotional changes. - Cross-reference: AU-27 (aka Claret Twenty-Seven) - AU-27 is a type of transmittable virus that was initially discovered on the planet Al-Ucard in the Gamma Quadrant. The virus is thought to be a mutative disease, originally manufactured by the Scorpiad, and purposely forced upon the humanoids on Al-Ucard. Those that did not initially die from exposure were genetically altered to specific designs. The virus, which can only be transmitted through fluid exchange, contains a strange protein that mutates living cells and causes varying degrees of hypohematism in infected persons. In small amounts, the proteins are harmless and cannot overcome a healthy immune system. Unless a humanoid’s blood cell count is significantly low, or an individual’s immune system is deficient, the virus proteins cannot take hold or multiply. The virus was designed to make those of Al-Ucard a race of elite hunters whose main purpose was to track down an eliminate Changelings (before the creation of the Dominion). Though the proteins within the main body of the virus are not fatal to humanoids, they act as a catalyst when brought into contact with Changeling bio-material. A coagulation reaction occurs and, if not halted, will effectively solidify the liquid-based lifeforms. Those (non-Changeling) successfully infected by AU-27 will experience drastic physical and chemical changes. Some of those include a decrease (or termination) in erythrocyte production, increase in leukocyte and thrombocyte counts, increase in bone density, rejection of standard food products, sensitivity to ultraviolet radiation, augmentation of perceptual senses, and a sometimes uncontrollable blood-lust. Note: Presently, there is no known cure for AU-27.

"Finally," Tandaris said to himself as he left the meeting. "Okay, what's next on my list?" He mentally ran down his suddenly burgeoning checklist of events. Ah, yes, that woman who had come to see him in Engineering... Victria? She had wanted to speak to him about something. As Tandaris slipped out of engineering, he tapped his combadge. "Lieutenant Admiran to Victria." In her quarters after her brief exploration of Main Security, Victria blinked at the voice that emanated from thin air. She automatically glanced to the ceiling, gaze traveling across it to the wall that held the communications panel. Moving to it, she pressed the button that she'd learned would allow her to speak to anyone on the ship. "I'm here." "You wished to speak with me?" he asked, realizing that he really knew nothing about her or her purpose on the ship. "I'm available now, how about you?" "Yes." She threw a glance about the empty room, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. After her tour, she had come to her quarters to contemplate and soon found herself battling boredom. "I think I can spare a few minutes now. Where?" Tandaris said, "How about the lounge on Deck 10?" He could use a Talarian spiced tea right now, especially if he was about to have a reasonably intelligent interaction with someone. "That would be suitable. I shall meet you there." Victria was sure she could find it by using the computer. She had managed to find Engineering and Security, though neither department appreciated her arrival there. Slipping out of her room, she activated the wall display in the corridor to show her the way and arrived a few short minutes later. Tandaris returned first to the science lab and secured the alien device in the containment field. He was entranced by the device, but the last thing he wanted to do was endanger the ship again. Then he proceeded to the lounge, arriving only a few moments after Victria. He prevailed on the replicator for a mug of spiced tea and then sat down at the table. Victria had replicated herself a glass of blood-red liquid, thicker and darker than wine. Amazing that one could simply go to a replicator, order a glass of hemoglobin, and have it materialize. Was it a special modification for her or were there other species in the Federation that survived off blood? She lounged in her chair, at total ease. Her icy gaze followed him as he approached the table and took a seat. "Lieutenant." "Hi there," Tandaris said, apparently unfazed by the fact that Victria was drinking what appeared to be blood. "So... forgive me, but I'm a little curious as to why you'd like to talk with me. You look like a diplomat, or at least a guest--if you have questions or some sort of engineering matter to discuss, perhaps you'd be better off seeing Commander Xavier. He is the department head, after all. I just fix things." Or break them, he thought. He kept that to himself though. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table, fingers lazily twirling the stem of her glass. A slow smile formed on her lips, though she did not show her teeth. In Al-Ucardian society, bared fangs were a sign of aggression or warning. "I was told to speak with you. Ah-Windu thought you might be able to assist with a recent problem that has arisen on the ship." She paused, wanting to read his reaction. Tandaris' lips moved as he traced the words, "Ah-Windu," his brow furrowing. Ah-Windu? Windu... oh, Captain Corizon! "Er, yes? No? I mean, is this the same problem that I'm already in the thick of, or is there a newer problem that no one told me about? I am, of course, referring to the slight problem with the ship's computer and an alien device." He hoped they weren't talking about the same thing. "Slight problem?" Eyebrows drew downward, her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed. "I would not classify it as a slight problem. I'm quartered on Deck 4. Something tampered with the computer systems on Deck 4. Who do you think is blamed?" She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared across the table at him. "I want to know what caused the disturbance and what you are doing about it. The Captain does not seem to believe that I had nothing to do with it." Tandaris smiled and said, "Ah, that's good then. Because as far as I know, you don't. So if you know that I know that you're not, and Captain Corizon knows that you know that I know that you're not, we're good. No, actually, I discovered the source of the problem. However, I do not know if you have the proper clearance. I'm going to submit a report to Captain Corizon in the next few hours; you're welcome to request access to it from him. Until then... perhaps you ask Ops to assign you new quarters if this problem inconveniences you?" Her gaze intensified. She stared at him for several long moments without saying anything. He was an odd one, she finally decided. Her attention shifted briefly to the markings around his head and neck that disappeared inside his uniform. Did they go all the way down his entire body? She inhaled to get a sense of him and found nothing but curiosity. No anxiousness or agitation. There was something... else, however, but she could not yet discern the source. "The problem is not being stationed on Deck 4. The problem is that this issue has cast doubt upon my presence here. Clearance does not concern me. I want to know what happened and why the Captain thought I was involved. Who is trying to frame me?" Tandaris repressed a sigh, not of anxiousness, nor of agitation, but just one of pure exasperation. It had been a long, long day, one in a series of long, long weeks, and it was going to get longer, he feared. He said, "I'm sorry, but I can't discuss it with you--the nature of the situation necessitates that it be classified. As for Captain Corizon's thoughts--who knows? He just told me to figure this out, and that's what I'm doing. I have no clue if this is part of a complicated plot to frame you, and I sure hope it isn't, because that would not be good." He paused and sipped at his tea. "But just between you and me..." he continued, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "... off the record..." Victria ground her teeth in frustration. It seemed that no matter what direction she turned, she was blocked by Starfleet’s rules and regulations. And the Captain offered her a position that would be bound by those same laws? The Hunger rose as she battled to keep her anger in check. The blue of her eyes intensified slightly. "Yessss?" Exaggerating her sibilants as she did when angered or excited. With another implacable sip of tea, Tandaris said, "I found the source of the problem, and it seems to have been--inadvertently--my fault. You see, we were deeper into the quadrant earlier this year, and I had the opportunity to acquire some . . . merchandise. I purchased only one thing, what I thought was a piece of scrap, a tiny little alien device of some sort." The spiced tea lacked the kick he needed to keep awake right now. He would have to try something with more sugar later. "Now, I'm not saying anything for sure, here. But said device may or may not have been emitting low-levels of gamma radiation. And those low-levels of gamma radiation that said device may or may not have been emitting may or may not have actually been encoded transmissions of commands to the bio-neural gel packs. The aforementioned encoded transmissions may or may not have been the source of our problems." Her reaction was almost immediate as he mentioned the device. She snarled, lips drawing back off her teeth to bare her fangs. "I wish to see this device. Speak with the Captain. Include it in your report. I do not care how you accomplish it, but get me clearance." She leaned forward again to close the distance between them. "If it is what I think... you have larger problems on your hands than a simple computer virus." Why did these outsiders feel the need to collect things, especially from a planet they knew nothing about? Corizon had gotten himself in trouble by purchasing a small, harmless bit of jewelry. Tandaris seemed to have done the same with this device of his. Victria's hand wrapped around her glass and she had to restrain herself to keep from shattering it. At least she knew that this incident had little to do with her. No one, not even her, could have predicted that she would have survived the Al-Ucard attack against the Exaclibur. None of her people would know she was on board. There was something about her tone, something about the way Victria curled her lips, that alerted Tandaris to how serious she was. This was not merely some diplomat trying to trample past Starfleet regulations and poke their nose where it didn’t belong; Victria actually knew what she was talking about. Tandaris had unconsciously released his grip on his mug, drawing back a bit as if that would dampen the effect of the warning. "I-I'll do that," he said. "I shall mention it to Captain Corizon." He paused and reached again for his tea. "Is that all?" Sensing that he had gotten her meaning, Victria relaxed as much as she could under the circumstances. She released her glass and pushed it aside, suddenly not interested in the drink. Her Hunger and her emotions were safely restrained. Studying him for a moment, her gaze shifted from his face to his chest. He had something with him. Something inside him. That was the source of the overlapping that she'd sensed before. "You're carrying a parasite. Did you know?" For a moment Tandaris' eyes widened. "What?" he exclaimed. His last physical hadn't revealed anything unusual, and he had not been off the ship since they returned from the Reliant. Then he caught her meaning and laughed. "Oh, oh no. No, that's not a parasite; it's my symbiont." She stared at him blankly, not having any clue what he meant. Her brow furrowed slightly. "So you know it is there." She shrugged as it still had no meaning for her. No doubt she would use what little computer access she'd been given to look up his species and discover how, exactly, this symbiont was significant. Smiling, Tandaris explained, "I'm a joined Trill. While both symbiont and host organism can live without each other, our society has found it mutually beneficial to join the two when possible, creating a new, merged personality. You might say that the new individual is more than the sum of his or her parts. My symbiont's name is Admiran--hence my last name--and I am not its first host. The symbionts are far longer-lived than hosts. I have the memories, experiences, knowledge of my past hosts and of Admiran himself. And through the hosts, the symbionts get to experience a universe that is otherwise usually beyond their reach." Both brows rose as she listened. The snarl was gone, the anger drained away. Now she was only curious. "An interesting arrangement. I shall have to discover more of your species and those symbionts." Did they bleed? Al-Ucardians could absorb memories through the blood of their victims. Would it be the same for other species, she wondered? An intriguing thought. She rose from her seat, peering down at him. "I'll not keep you any longer. I know that you probably wish to finish your report and inform the Captain. You know how to find me when you get clearance for me to take a look at that device of yours." She paused, a sardonic smirk tugging at her lips. "I'm quartered on Deck 4." Tandaris nodded at her. "I'll do that. Pleasure meeting you." His eyes glanced back down at the tea, which he had managed to reduce to dregs. Ah, it was going to be a long night. Best to get it started soon. He also stood up, and from there they parted ways. Tandaris would return to the science lab to run more tests and write that report. Maybe he would make it an all-nighter--he hadn't had one of those since his fourth year Academy multispacial engineering design final. Only this time, he wasn't trying to build a better mousetrap. Because someone had beaten him to it, and suddenly he was the mouse who had to avoid the cheese.

“Computer, what is the current location of the Al-Ucardian, Victria?” “The Al-Ucardian is currently located in her assigned guest quarters on Deck 4,” the computer replied in the usual soothing voice. Looking away from the mountain of PADDs on his desk, Corizon exited his office. He had many reports to review and orders to approve, but there was something that could be put off no longer. He had postponed it as long as possible to give himself time to think and decide upon a solution. Taking his steps quickly, it was not long before the Dameon arrived on Deck 4. Pausing a few moments, he pressed the door chime. Victria sat on the couch in her lounge area, peering out of the room's portal to the stars beyond. She swung her eyes to the door, extending her senses to discern who lay beyond. A slight smirk tugged at her lips. “You may enter.” Entering slowly, Corizon's night vision adjusted quickly to the dim lighting of her quarters. “Good evening...” “Is it? I've lost all grasp of planet time.” She remained seated, her blue eyes studying him in the dark. She did not offer him a seat, either. He was in command of the ship and she just a tentative guest. If he wanted to sit he didn't need her permission. “To what do I owe the honor?” Corizon stood a few feet away from her, trying to repress his thoughts about his capture. “It's a little ironic, don't you think... our situation?” “Which part do you mean?” One eyebrow lifted in curiosity. He smirked ever so slightly. “That the tables are turned... and that neither one of us really had the correct prisoner.” “Ah. I've thought on that quite a lot during my stay.” Her head tilted slightly as she attempted to sense something beneath the words, but he had a tighter grasp of his emotions this meeting. “But I'm not sure what you mean by 'correct prisoner'. Was there someone else you were hoping for?” “Your masters,” Corizon said directly, and honestly. “Of course.” She dug her nails into the fabric of the couch but otherwise did not move. “And I assume that you have some sort of plan to capture one of the Scorpiad? Perhaps gain some of their technology to analyze and use against them?” It was amazing how much they thought alike. “Something like that, yes.” He couldn’t possibly know that the Al-Ucardians had been given orders to do exactly the same thing to any Federation ship they could capture. She gave him a thin smile. “And what do you wish from me?” “I want to know what you know about the Scorpiads.” “What, exactly?” She seemed unsurprised. “We can start with what you want to tell me.” A toothy grin appeared on his face. “I can claw what ever information you don't want to give me later.” She snorted. “The last time we battled, you were on the losing side.” Her nails continued to dig into the sofa. Lucky it was durable. “What type of information do you consider to be most important? Weaknesses? Their command structure? Their level of technology? I could give you many details, but they may not be the ones you need.” He chose not to point out that the last time they battled he was caught unaware, and instead focus on the task at hand. “Any knowledge is power.” “Very well. I shall begin by telling you about the Scorpiad physical structure should you ever meet them in combat.” Naturally that was what she would consider to be the most important. “Their outer skeletons are impervious to your weapons' fire unless you aim it at specific regions of their body. Their eyes, for example, are one of their weaknesses. Their joints are another. Also the sections where their body segments join, though they do have some sort of internal skeletal structure, so do not expect them to simply collapse. They can tolerate extreme temperatures and high radiation levels, but react much the way your people do to incendiary devices.” She made a fist and flung it open quickly to emphasis her point. “What you may not realize is that there are several different sub-species of the Scorpiad – Emri, Androcts, Leptertus, Mari, Trog, and Leiri. Each group has its own unique characteristics. Some use their claws in battle and are strong enough to crush any humanoid. Some have highly toxic venom in their stingers...” “How poisonous would you say?” “Again, it varies from species to species. The Leiri are the most deadly.” “To you and your people?” She smirked. “No. We are able to filter out most poisons, but that does not mean that we haven’t died from Scorpiad stings. Their venom does not affect us, but having an object over thirty centimeters long thrust into your body is quite painful if not fatal.” “Also, they inject certain enzymes through their saliva that will begin to break down any organic tissue with which it comes in contact. I do not believe it is as potent outside of the body, but if it is injected, it will do much damage unless counteracted.” “Continue,” he said, nodding. “What of their command structure?” “There are many complicated variables in their society,” she sighed, running one hand through her hair. “But I can give you a simplified explanation of their castes. Emri are the rulers and military leaders. Andrcots are mainly advisors. Mari are rarely found in military roles, but excel in building, designing, and engineering. Lapterus, believe it or not, are pacifists and philosophers. If ever you had a chance to reason with a Scorpiad, the Lapterus would be the sub-species to approach. The Trog make up the bulk of the actually fighting force and would be what you considered your standard enlisted officer.” “The Leiri,” and here she suppressed a shudder of fear. “They are quite possibly the strongest force the Scorpiad possess. They are ruthless warriors and are extremely aggressive. Killing is the only skill they have and they are quite good at it. You would not want to battle a Leiri one-on-one.” Victria took a breath, pausing in her recitation. “There is so much more that I could tell you. Shouldn't I just put this in a report for you? I doubt you are going to be able to remember all of the details.” Corizon had nearly perfect recall, but he didn't feel the need to point that out. “That would be acceptable.” She nodded, satisfied that she would not have to repeat herself. Leaning forward slightly, she met his gaze. “Now, because I’ve heard nothing but rumors, what is the current situation?” “Your masters,” he sighed. “Are acting most... unusually.” Her lips curved upward into a slight smile. “They are on the brink of activity but seem to be waiting for something?” “Yes,” he said. “But more than that, I get the sneaking suspicion that taking the wormhole has some... some... strategic value that is escaping me.” “That is probably the case. If there is one thing you must realize about the Scorpiad it is the fact that their goals always range toward the long term. They are a very patient race when needed and always have a particular motive for their actions.” He nodded, “From what Weyoun told me that would seem to be true.” “And Weyoun is?” “A member of the Dominion Government... actually one of the most... heinous figures in the history of my Quadrant.” Her nose wrinkled at the mention of the Dominion, her disgust obvious. The lapse was only momentary, however, and soon the smug expression was back in place. “How do you plan on attacking them? From what I have seen of your ship, your technology is not as advanced.” He shook his head, “I am afraid that information is classified. And given a recent security breach I am not sure if I can trust you, to be honest.” Her lips twitched and the blue of her eyes intensified slightly. She rose from the couch, tossing aside a pillow, and strode to the window. “I only thought to offer some insight. I'm not exactly sure where you expect me to take any of your classified information. I have no contact with my people and no way to contact them. All the ships in this area are under your control.” “There was an attack on our computer systems from this deck,” he said calmly, watching her reaction. She was pacing like a caged animal, obviously frustrated about her lack of options. Pausing at his admission, she turned to stare at him. “What sort of attack? Do you realize that I have limited access to your systems? The most I can glean from your files are a UFP welcome program detailing some of the different species that make up your Federation. How could I possibly know enough about your technology to shove my way into your computers?” Lifting an ear, “Do you take me for a complete fool?” She bared her fangs at him, her frustration level growing. “I had nothing to do with an attack on your computer systems. I prefer... living... prey. I am not a scholar or a philosopher or a technician. I am a Hunter.” “A hunter. And isn't one of the first rules of any hunt, to know your prey?” Corizon stood calmly. He knew he could defend himself if need be. He also knew he needed to confirm or dispel the suspicions swirling in his mind. “Do you think I look upon your people as prey?” Her fists were closed so tightly that her nails cut into her skin. “Lucam are my prey. We've established that you are not Lucam, nor are any of your people.” “Funny,” he said, his voice remaining flat. “I am pretty sure you were in the fighter that attacked my ship.” “You have never followed an order against your personal judgment?” She began pacing again, though her attention remained on him. “We were sent on a suicide mission. Did you see the remains of our fighter vessel? How could that possibly stand against one of your starships? The Scorpiad will decimate my people if we do not follow them, so the few throw themselves willingly to their deaths to save the majority. Should we allow our entire race to perish? Would you?” “My people once faced that choice,” he said sternly. “We would gladly die free than ever be the slave of another.” “Then perhaps we are more selfish. We wish to survive - to continue. If we could break free of the Scorpiad rule, it would have happened long ago, but we are nothing compared to them.” There was clarity in his voice and in his eyes. Above all things, he valued his freedom, and he would rather feel the cold sharpness of his own blade than be a slave. “Then your cause is already lost.” She turned her back on him, one hand resting on the wall next to the replicator. “Then dispose of me. Kill me now.” When she turned, she wore a pained expression on her face. “Anything but this torture. I am either your enemy or I am not. Decide and deal with me accordingly. You know how you feel about captivity. It is just as much torture for me. This ship is torture. I Hunger constantly and am surrounded on all sides by temptation that I cannot sample.” “I won't kill you,” Corizon let his ears fall. “But... I will offer you solace.” Mouth open slightly, tongue toying with one of her fangs, she stared at him. She was desperate for any small glimmer of hope. “What?” “How would you feel about joining my crew as a provisional officer?” She moved a few paces closer, still staring. “You say you cannot trust me, but you offer me a provisional post on your crew? What sort of officer could I possibly be in your society?” “Security,” he said. “Besides, how else are you to gain my trust if I don't allow you the opportunity?” She frowned. “Security. Stalking Lucam and working as security on a ship are two entirely different worlds. I do not take orders well.” “You'll learn,” he said smugly. “Especially if you want to do anything outside of this room.” Hissing in frustration, she approached him slowly, stopping a few inches away. Her gaze locked with his, then drifted automatically to his neck as she became aware of his pulse. Lips curled back off of her teeth as she leaned forward, at war with her instincts. Just shy of touching him, she whispered, “That is the only offer you came to make?” He could feel his heart rate increase in response to her provocation, but he did not flinch away. “Yes,” he said slowly. “A provisional post, and I do not offer that lightly. I have little time for games… Victria.” “No. No, I imagine not. You are a busy man, which is why I have been left to suffer my fate for so long.” Her breath quickened slightly, eyes a brighter shade of icy blue. She lingered at his neck for a moment, then turned and lifted her head slightly to meet his gaze, still only inches away. “I shall consider your offer... and look forward to any others you may wish to present at some later time.” Nodding ever so slightly, “In the meantime, you can work on your report for me.” “Mmm.” She took a deep breath, savoring his scent. “Ah-Windu?” His ears twitched at the way she said his name, eyes locked on hers. “Yes?” “If one of your medical personnel went missing, would anyone notice? They have been most helpful when I've visited.” A wicked grin appeared, slowly spreading across her face. She broke away, letting the moment pass. He considered it for a very long moment. “Unfortunately... yes.” “Ah, a pity.” Though her hunger had been suppressed, he had no idea how close she had been to sinking her teeth into his neck. Only the unknown ramifications of that action made her pause. “Thank you for visiting. I'll have that report to you as soon as I can.” He paused only briefly as he turned toward the door. “You're welcome.” Victria watched him leave, feeling as though he had left something unsaid. She stared at the closed doors, her senses attuned to his beating heart to the point where he entered the turbolift. Did he really think her to be a spy? Had her anger at his accusation confirmed or denied his doubts? Someone had planted a virus in the ship’s computer and had just happened to do it on the deck she was stationed. Coincidence? Unlikely. She suspected that there was someone on board that wanted to cast even more doubt on her. They probably had their own agenda, but she would be the perfect scapegoat. She was the enemy and there was not a single person on board that would protest her execution if she were to be accused and found guilty. If someone was ingenious enough to escape detection when sabotaging the ship, then they would probably have no trouble in framing her for their crime. Lips drew back off elongated canines as she clenched her teeth. It seemed as though she had a new prey to hunt. She would be on the prowl for the saboteur, and when she found him or her, she might just be able to get a decent meal.