"Failure"

[NDak 0]

PERSONAL LOG

Arrien Destorie N’Dak

CSEC RES Talon

Stardate 0403.30

 

>Begin Log<

 

Destorie had been taken from medical area back the brig. Red Alert Klaxons were sounding. He knew they weren’t fighting the Talon, she had been walloped way to hard and even, as much as he hated to admit it, as good of engineers as Laehval, r’Tor and Pexil were, they coulnd’t put that ship back together fats enough to give the Arcadia much of fight.

 

He wondered what the situation was, who his squid overloads had put in Command in his absence, hopefully not that imp of brother of his. Not that he didn’t love his brother, he just had no place in the Military.

 

Or for that matter were the Squids still in control of the Talon? As much as it hurt is his pride and sense of superiority he knew that he had been out matched by Laehval and t’Ksa. To boot he had been captured and jailed for the second time by this Captain Moose, to say the least the Romulans pride had taken a major blow and showed on his face as he was escorted into the Arcadia brig. His normal smug arrogance was non-existent. His proud Romulan posture was now slightly slumped.

 

Just before he has been beamed off the Talon, he had begun to question the Squids, question their motives, just as t’Rexan had before she was displaced. He had felt the immense pain they could reward. Had that vile Anderson been right? Was he so blinded by their promises of rewards, the pleasure he felt when doing their bidding he had some how missed a foul intent? Did they really wish to inslave the Rihan Empire? If they had—it would be his fault.

 

He had failed as the Daise Dheno—failed to protect the security of the Talon; failed in his duty as Ennarien—he had allowed the ship to damaged, lives lost; and he had failed in his duty to the Squids by not making the crew understand. He had failed—failed as a Romulan.

 

The guard shoved him into the cell and activated the force field behind him. But that was an unneeded measure; he would try and escape. Why would he? He was shamed. And he would rather die than return in shame.

 

Destorie caught himself thinking of ways to do himself in. “This is ridiculous, get a hold of yourself!”

 

His pride wounded, his very core in question. He starred at the wall. Right now all he wanted to do was be someone else. Now he had no were to go. He would not dare stay with the Lloann’na nor could he bare returning to the Talon in shame; returning to his people in shame.

 

The Lloann’na said that Romulans have na sense of Honor or duty. But all one would have to do is look into the heart of Destorie N’Dak and you would know that was a lie.

 

As he starred into the grey walls of the brig he pondered how quickly his days in the sun would be over if he returned to the Talon, his fall would be swift—t’Rexan, if she was still alive, would see to that, she was not a woman, from what he could tell, that would suffer mutineers or traitors—and if what he had slowly realized just before the transport off the Oira was true, he was both.

 

All of this raced through his head at terrible speeds. A sullen look broadcasted his mood. The Vulcan guard in the corner seemed to almost enjoy the predicament N’Dak was in, but Destorie was to depressed—to confused to notice.

 

>End Log<