"Verdant"

[Guest Sar'vek t'Jhiin]

(Note - log contains some objectional dialogue and violent imagery.)

 

2392 -- Five years ago...

Immediately following the Battle of Galorndon Core

ISS Neptune Rex

 

Loud alarms sounded throughout Sickbay as doctors and security guards rushed about, managing the wounded Romulans as they were transported in.

 

In one corner of the facility, a single Romulan officer was shrinking against the wall: as far from the crowd as was possible. A dazed look on her face, she stared straight ahead in disbelief. Defeated...

 

Stray tears running down her cheek, the woman backed closer to the wall. Such haughty boastings they had once made. That the Romulan Empire would never fall. That they would never bend knee to the Terrans. And Erei'Riov Sar'vek t'Jhiin, fool that she was, had believed it.

 

A man stalked through the sickbay doors, in no particular hurry. These beings were not of his own. Their deaths, however costly to the powers that be's causes, were inconsequential. He turned and saw her, cowering in the corner like a whipped dog. Smiling, he made his way through the dead and dying, cool in his intent. He leaned down, coming to eye level with her.

 

Anger flared within her, the sight of a Bajoran fueling her rage. Yet another pathetic species who'd sold out to the Terrans for a bit of peace of mind. Her eyes blazing with fury, she stared at him, silently.

 

He turned his head. Such anger, such hate. He drew his lip into a warm smile, an odd feeling across his face. "Are you injured?" he asked.

 

Unspeaking, she twisted her head to one side, finally breaking from his overbearing stare. Elements, fhaen, let him leave...

 

He reached out for her, taking her arm. "I think your arm is fractured along the upper bicep." He reached for a small table and took an instrument from it. Correcting the damage to her arm, he ignored the screams of pain all around him ... the dying of those far more mortally wounded.

 

Still staring at him, she shuddered, not looking up to meet his eyes. "Na hanny'yo, au veruul," she hissed, her choked voice laced with sarcasm.

 

"Veruul?" He smirked. "You must be mistaking me for someone else, my dear." He gently pulled at her arm. "Come on, let's treat those burns," he said, his voice full of mock care.

 

"Na," she said under her breath, pulling her arm away from him. "Taeth saev... my crew..." she said, motioning to those around her. "Please."

 

"Au saev is in the capable hands of taeth medical team." He reclasped her arm. "And au, are in mine."

 

"Fhaen, do na touch me. The burns are na anything. Go," she ordered, still the commander who was used to orders being followed.

 

He leaned in, the smile now gone, along with the warmth in his voice, replaced by a tone laced with sharpness. He dropped the Rihan, and spoke to her in basic. "You, my dear," he whispered in her ear, "are in no place to be giving orders." With that, he stood.

 

"Now stand up." Again his tone changed, that was an order, not a request.

 

She tossed her head back imperiously, meeting his eyes without any trace of fear. "I do na take orders from Lloann'na veruul such as auself."

 

"Fine, have it your way." He turned and spoke sharply to his staff around him in Bajoran. At that, they ceased their work on all the Rihan patients.

 

She stood sharply, placing a hand on his arm, lightly. "That's not necessary," she said, using flawless basic for the first time since she was brought aboard.

 

He turned his head, snapping off another sharp sentence in Bajoran, and the doctors resumed their work. "Now then," he smiled. "Let's treat those burns." He motioned, but not for a biobed. He turned and waited for her to walk into his office.

 

Skittish, as a wild animal might approach unfamiliar terrain, she entered the room indicated, taking a few steps to clear the door before pausing. After her eyes followed him for a moment, nervously, she looked downwards once more.

 

He paused at the door, turning to his lead assistant. Speaking in Bajoran he gestured to the other Romulans in the medical bay. "Select the five that will be least taxing on our resources, and treat them. Kill the rest."

 

Not understanding the language, she didn't give the order a second glance. Still in a state of shock, she blinked back a few tears. "Why...?" she asked, not as much to the Bajoran as to the Elements.

 

He brushed the hair away from her face, revealing minors burns scarring her face. He picked up a dermal regenerator, and began to run it along her face. As he moved more of her hair, he could feel her skin warm against his. "Why what?" he asked, more out of curiosity then actual concern.

 

"Why have you brought me here? Why did your Empire have to engage our ships?" She shrugged, ignoring the brush of his hand against her face. "Why wasn't I fortunate enough to die in battle?"

 

"I brought you here to repair your skin. The second is a question best addressed to ones far higher up then me." He finished his work on her face and took a step back, giving her some room. "As for the third," he replaced the instrument on the desk, then looked back at her. "As for the third, a death by the sword is not always the best thing."

 

With an emotionless face, she looked up at him. "Honorable, though."

 

"What would death have accomplished?"

 

"A chance to avoid the yoke of slavery. To die among fellow Rihan, on our vessel, not on foreign soil!" She fairly spat the words at him, the hatred surfacing again.

 

That's it, get it out. He circled to sit at his desk. "I am finished. You're free to go."

 

Nodding sharply, she stood, moving towards the door. He'd done his job in repairing her -- no thanks were required. Turning on her heel, she opened the door, stepping out into chaos once more.

 

She stepped out into what her mind could only process as chaos. No reason, no control; only death, pain, and suffering. Green, so much green...

 

The moans filled her ears as another passed. She turned sharply, just in time to feel the lifeless hand of a man run down her back. She jerked away, suppressing her will to scream.

 

There were at least seven medics -- why were they focusing only on a handful of patients? She began to spin around, her mind running faster then reason could keep up. She reached out, trying desperately to save them ... any of them. Green ... it was now on her, covering her. She felt it in her hair, under her nails, caking her uniform, making it stick to her still delicate skin.

 

Tears began to well in her eyes as she saw fewer and fewer of her crew move, they were becoming lifeless, just as the space in which they traveled. Why!? Why were the medics only focusing on the least injured!? She flew towards one of them, opening her mouth to speak, but finding her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. It was just as well, as she was slapped back down to the floor by one of the males.

 

Falling ... into green...

 

He appeared, standing over her. She did not know where he came from, and barely remembered who he was. "Help them!" she pleaded, coughing. The stench of blood flooded her nose, burned her eyes. "Please, you must help!"

 

He kneeled down next to her. "We cannot save them all."

 

Lashing out, she slapped him harmlessly, little strength in the blow. "These you are treating are barely injured! Concentrate your efforts on the critically injured! Triage!"

 

He turned back from her slap, no anger in his eyes. "It's too late for triage." The lie ran off his lips like water off a leaf. "If we waste time on those that are already to far gone, the rest will soon follow."

 

"Broken limbs? Minor injuries? I could have treated the ones that you are focusing on!"

 

"Minor? The internal bleeding could leed to much more severe complications, if given the time ... the time it will take to treat the hopeless ones..." Irritation was beginning to creep into his voice.

 

"Au son of a susse-thrai! Au know as well as I that they were na hopeless. Dyypan maenak!"

 

"They are now." His pretense was completely gone now. "I will not be told how to run my sickbay by some lowly daughter of the Romulan empire." He spat the word, almost as if it was a curse.

 

She stood, staring fiercely into his eyes. "Go to hell."

 

"Look around yourself. This is hell." His implications went far farther then that small sickbay.

 

She stiffened. "Ie, I know," she said, closing her eyes as another stream of tears fell. Opening her eyes again, she began to plead. "Then, fhaen, take my life in place of io of them. A trade... fhaen..."

 

"I do not think so. Your life is far too valuable." He smiled.

 

"I beg." She stooped to a knee, dropping her gaze. "Any of them. But don't force me to live."

 

"He put his hand on her chin, lifting her head to look at him. "Any of the lives I spare, will be lives of labor and misery. Yours would be a life of... relative pleasure." A smile, like that of a predator viewing its prey, spread across his face.

 

Resisting every urge in her body to swat his hand away, she shuddered. "Au take me for an amton'wi-kha?" she asked, disgusted.

 

"Na, na an amton'wi-kha." He knelt down next to her once more. "A pet."

 

A sneer. "I would rather die."

 

"Not au choice." A smug smirk.

 

She sized him up a moment, the superior streak rearing its head. "The way it is not your choice to be a callous animal?"

 

"Callous?" he snarked. "If you think me callous, my dear, I would hate to hear your opinion of the rest this crew ... the likes of which happen to be your only other options for....what is it you call them? Alha?"

 

Silence for a moment in response. Uncertainly, she glanced around, desperate not to hear the pained moans, or the death rattles of the men and women whose lives had been entrusted to her. To think of only herself, even when she knew they needed her most. Her gaze returning to his, she met his eyes solidly. "I believe I would accept au's offer, then, Maenak...?"

 

He smiled. "Tynte. Avery Tynte."

 

To Be Continued...

 

 

 

Romulan Dictionary

 

alha - master, mistress

amton'wi-kha - whore

au - you

Dyypan - incompetant

Erei'Riov - Romulan Fleet equivalent of Commander

fhaen - please

hanny'yo - thank you

ie - yes

maenak - doctor

na - no

saev - crew

susse-thrai - bitch

taeth - my

veruul - scum; slimebag