The Rekindling of Freedom

Posted on Friday February 21st, 2020 @ 10:30pm by Lieutenant Oscar Vladinchi & Lieutenant Lazarus Kord

3,748 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: Shakedown Cruise
Location: USS Poseidon; Deck 6 - Diplomatic Corps Office #1
Timeline: Post-Launch

[BEGIN]

"Tell her it'll be another hour," Lazarus' voice echoed, gruff and full of tired strain. "I almost got it. Just need a little more time. Been flaking away at the chips and pieces, the crews really missed this one."

"Ok," Bryn said as she tapped on her PADD to make another note. She just hoped that Captain Vermillion was a patient person, but it seemed that she wasn't at times. However dealing with the Gorn Chief Engineer was different, she only hoped that the repairs were good quality rather than rushed. "I'll pass that on."

He snorted, the sounds of him picking his tools up could be heard. "Good," he grunted out, "now if you'll excu-"

The explosion was instant. Wherein usually a detonation similar to this takes a bit of time, this time, it would feel almost instantaneous. One moment there was another sound of metal clanging on metal, then next a bright flash of light and arching of electrical energy followed by an intense concussive blast that echoed in the tube. A second later, Lazarus' limp body slid down the tube and on the floor, his scales a bloody mess as there were visible heat scars and patches all across his skin. His uniform had almost entirely been electrocuted to dust. Blood oozed from various orifices, followed by what appeared to be a settling of the body from a tense state.

But then, the state that his body was in, wasn't.

The body and posture seemed to simmer briefly, in that clearly dying moment, as the picture of grotesque destruction shifted back to normalcy for a split second - incomprehensible to those watching. In that moment, the reaction of time and space that was ushered in from the brief conduit explosion prompted the separation of self and form, slipping through a crack in subspace formed from the same split-second incident, to a place far distant and different than what Lazarus could comprehend. For a brief second, as his sense of self and awareness died, he felt his body stiffen until all that he understood was death. Then he felt things returning, feelings he couldn't describe, an understanding as old as his years in existence - something else, deeper, telling him he shouldn't alive.

He felt a soft thump as he hit the hard floor of the ship. The flooring of the ISS Asha felt unusually comfortable, different, and the air smelt cleaner. He took in a sharp breath, his Gorn form expanding and contracting briefly with the inhale and exhale. His eyes shot open, the golden reptilian orbs and iris giving off a shocked and almost terrified gaze.

"Where am I," was all he managed, knowing at once he was not on the Asha.

[Few Moments Prior]

The Diplomatic Corp aboard a starship was, generally speaking, not what anyone would expect. The main room was circular in shape with stations set around the wall that were used by subject matter experts with the Chief's office set on one end; the middle of the room was dominated by a large table that boasted built in holo emitters. The individuals who worked here were a close knit group for the most part. Comfortable with being that slightly mysterious section of the ship's complement, they worked in companionable ease. At the moment, the display was set up with a detailed view of a meeting room and several SMEs were discussing seating arrangements based on the political and cultural needs of the attendees.

Ronan D'Anvers, Chief Diplomatic Officer, was in his office having been summoned away from the discussion for an emergency call from Captain Rynott. "So tell me," he said, his entire body drooping with the longsuffering attitude of a starship captain who'd rather be anywhere than in a political nightmare precipitated by an overzealous member of his own crew, "just how bad is it going to be." The Captain's voice, a deep rumbling bass, dropped even lower as he added, "and how much trouble my ensign is going to be in once I'm done."

One side of Ronan's expressive mouth quirked upward fractionally. "Not as bad as you think, Captain," he said. "There is a way, steeped in ancient tradition, that will not only mollify them but also show them that you are aware and appreciative of their customs. You'll need a silver bird cage, the bottom filled with yellow flowers, and a pair of unblemished white doves." The Captain drew breath to complain but Ronan forestalled him with an upraised finger. "I'm sending you the replicator patterns and the information you can give to your engineer for the holograms. You enter their chamber, bird cage carried before you like it was the most precious thing in the world, wait for their nod and then walk forward. Step, pause, step, pause ... until you reach them. Then kneel and present the birdcage."

"And this will work," the Captain asked, frowning over the information he was already receiving. He turned away from the screen for a moment and said, "Get Reilly up here ... now." Nodding in satisfaction, no doubt at the speed with which the individual scurried away, he returned his attention to Ronan. "I may not have to keelhaul that idiot after all."

"I'll spare you the lecture that should go with it but for the benefit of your crew, I can send along a briefing package," Ronan said. His own voice with a smooth tenor, rich and warm, with only slight traces of the lilting sound of his native tongue present.

"Make it especially dull," the Captain said. The glint in his eyes spoke of promised retribution but his smile was genuine enough. "Thank you, Lieutenant. This is going to help a lot of colonists if it works. Rynott out."

"Another crisis averted," Ronan said as he rose with the fluid grace of someone whose muscles had been trained through daily practice to obey or else. He moved around the edge of the desk which was when the Gorn appeared on the floor in front of him and asked his location.

"On board the USS Poseidon," Ronan responded as he moved to crouch beside him. His green eyes took in the nearly naked form, the history inscribed on his body in much the same way as his own, and held shadows of shared pain. "You're safe." He tapped his combadge and said, "Bridge, I have a male Gorn here in my office. I need Medical down here at once."

[Deck 6 Corridor, moments later]

=A= Lieutenant Vladinchi, make way for medical emergency to Diplomatic Offices #1. Report upon arrival. =A=

"On my way," replied Oscar Vladinchi as he tapped his combadge. His usually candid expression changed to serious as he turned heel and backtracked down the corridor and to the right, heading for Office #1 of the Diplomatic Corps; the office situated just across the crew mess hall on Deck 6, nearest to the cargo area entrance. It was, until recently, a mostly vacated section. That was until the arrival of the Chief Diplomatic Officer and their entourage. It had been a relatively quiet section of the ship.

Meeting up with two other Security Officers and three Medical Officers, Oscar gave them all a nod. He noted his seniority over all quickly and led the way with a gesture. As this was a medical emergency, he and the other Security personnel didn't ready weapons. They would act as support for the Medical Personnel, with the extent of his support being to check the room and verify security before permitting entry; a quick and painless process, usually.

He quickly turned into the circular office, impressive as it was from a few days ago when he last saw it. Checking the surroundings he noted no immediate threats, gesturing again as the two other Security Officers quickly took station beside the entrance as Oscar lead the Medical personnel in. He stood off to the side, somewhat surprised to see a badly injured Gorn on the floor, but it wasn't his business as it didn't appear a threat - yet.

[On the floor]

Lazarus's breathing quickened when he saw the individual above him; a Terran dressed in usual attire, friendly demeanour, leaning down beside him as if to assist. He would have struck their way, slashing out, had he the mind to. Right then he was too stunned. Something had happened, his body knew it. He was supposed to be dead, but everytime he tried to gather the necessary reason for it, his mind came up blank. It was a deep, pivotal emotion and sense that told him over and over again:

"You should be dead."

Moments passed as he understood what the person said, his eyes frantically glancing around, the reptilian iris thinned for that time before his senses began to calm. The iris expanding, relaxed, as he managed to think properly. The resounding words that his brain knew to be true, but weren't, fading due to the empirical evidence of his continued existence.

"How did I get here?" he managed to ask, his voice raspy, throaty, almost hissing the words in clear english. Then the medics arrived.

He tensed briefly, but relaxed upon seeing the uniform. It was similar to Terran medical staff, but different. He noted the emblem, something about it.....something seemed off. His eyes glancing almost frantically towards that of Ronan's, almost pleading for an explanation to a question that couldn't form.

"Honestly, I don't know," Ronan said. He kept his tone modulated, calm, as he answered, lifting one shoulder fractionally in a slight shrug. "Didn't look like any transporter beam I've seen. For now, don't worry. Let the doctor here take care of you. We'll get it all straightened out."

Lazarus nodded, slowly. The calmness of the Terran - was he even a Terran? - in front of him was reassuring. It didn't feel anything like he was used to; the air, the atmosphere, the sense of understanding present - of not understanding but being able to. He had no proper word to describe that, the sense that he wasn't somewhere based entirely on the perceptions he felt around him. Even the Security personnel - for he could tell due to their weapons and red outfits - looked similar yet far different, and held themselves relaxed. The Gorn cautiously, slowly, allowed the Medical personnel to treat him.

The three Medical Officer's, one senior and two cadets, worked diligently as they talked amongst themselves softly. The senior, a Lieutenant Packwell, led the treatment by crossing over his medical tricorder. The two cadets were carefully observing, one Vulcan and the other a Benzite. The Gorn seemed to take the two into consideration as he was treated, even in his eyes recognizing something was off. None of the three picked up on this as the Lieutenant straightened, looking to the most senior officer in the room - that of Lieutenant D'Anvers.

"All the wounds are superficial," Packwell said, on one knee beside the Gorn. "The blood seems to be dried, definitely Gorn in nature, but his organs and everything else seems to be quite healthy. I'd say if this was a transporter accident, he's very lucky to come off with only a uniform malfunction."

Lazarus checked himself and, indeed, his uniform was torn in most places. Particularly where his Terran Empire combadge would have been; disintegrated, no doubt, in some freak accident. He wasn't going to speak up yet about how he knew he was somewhere he shouldn't be, not with those present not mistreating him. The one the Medical Officer talked to just then, the one who spoke calmly to him, now had his entire attention.

That and, also, of Lieutenant Packwell's as he awaited an order.

"Lieutenant, if you could find him a place to clean up and some clothes to wear, I'll contact the Captain and let him know our guest is aboard." He turned toward the Gorn and offered a rare smile. "If that's alright with you, of course. And if you're hungry, there's a replicator that can produce almost anything."

Lieutenant Packwell nodded, replying with a crisp, "Aye sir," as he reached down to begin to help the Gorn stand. He looped an arm under the Gorn's arm careful to assist rather than force. For his part, Lazarus didn't immediately resist, as the Cadets joined in. When he had stood, Packwell looked towards Oscar.

"Let's get you situated, shall we?" Packwell said, gently guiding the still dazed Gorn along. Lazarus gave a final look back at Ronan, before taking note of Oscar and his Security personnel as the two standing outside the entrance followed the Medical team out.

[Back in the Diplomatic Room]

Oscar watched the entourage leave, looking back to the Chief Diplomatic Officer. His expression held a line of seriousness, which underneath held suspicion. He eyed Ronan carefully, his thick Russian accent coming through as he silently remarked his thoughts.

"He isn't a member of this crew," Oscar observed flatly.

"Of that, I have no doubt," Ronan said as he tapped his combadge. =A= D'Anvers to Captain. =A=

[Captain's Quarters]

Franklin was at his personal desk looking over some notes that he had logged in his PADD when his combadge chirped. He listened to the message, instantly recognizing it from the new Chief Diplomatic Officer. They had only been recently introduced, and briefly at that. He made a mental note to meet him for an extended introduction much later, the recent departure having left no room for that previously.

The Commander pressed his combadge. =A= Commander Johnson, here. What can I do for you, Mr. D'Anvers? =A=

"Captain," Ronan said, "might sound strange and you probably saw the energy spike on the internal sensors already but we have a ... a Gorn on board. Superficial injuries and a bit weak but otherwise alright."

A Gorn? Franklin thought, feeling quite taken aback. The ships sensors did ping with an odd energy reading, but it came back as almost background radiation; a starburst, perhaps a explosion nearby, nothing damaging. He quietly looked back at his desks computer display, looking over the alert as he replied.

=A= Lieutenant, yeah, I did have a message earlier pinging me about that. I didn't think much of it, until now. Let me check with the bridge briefly, one moment. =A=

A minute went by where he addressed the appropriate crew on watch concerning ships sensors. A deep sensor sweep later with no hint of anyone for lightyears - save for a few close civilian liners and freight haulers - he tapped his combadge to address Ronan again.

=A= Nothing around us. You said he transported here? Where is he now? =A=

"Medical took him so that he could get cleaned up, find something to wear," Ronan said. He shook his head slightly as the memory returned of their guest's body. "From what I could see, his body shows a pattern of scars. I think he's been beaten ... and regularly."

The Commander went tense for a moment, the memory of their most recent odd arrival, that of Lieutenant Oscar Vladinchi, fresh in his mind. It was one thing to know that Oscar had been attached to this ship at one point, the circumstances surrounding his death on the USS Pennsylvania several hundreds of lightyears away in the Delta Quadrant being something of a note in the command circle on the Poseidon. He had rushed in on orders to save a group of slaves from the Jem'Hadar, at which point he believed there had only been two slaves trapped behind a force-field; a boy and his father. There had actually been three, a spectral energy like being that managed to accidentally get connected to his dying corpse after he had been shot in his attempt to free them, the connection springing the Lieutenant across time and space three weeks after the event until he showed up on the Poseidon - the very same ship he served on during the Dominion War. An odd, possibly impossible hypothesis began to form in the Commander's mind.

Was he also connected to the Poseidon in some way? he thought to himself, eyeing the computer screen as he tapped at commands to bring up the history of the ship. After a moment, he had his answer. There had never been a Gorn serving on this starship within its entire career. This was something completely new.

=A= Alright, Lieutenant =A=, the Commander replied as after tapping his combadge, =A= keep me updated. Come see me when you get a chance, also, later if you can. Commander Johnson, out. =A=

[Back in Diplomatic Corps Office #1]

The connection closed, Ronan looked at the Lieutenant who was still standing in from of him. "Was there something else, Lieutenant?"

Oscar glanced over Ronan. He wanted to say something, anything, about the odd feeling in his gut. That thing inside him was pushing at his mind. Telling him something else was amiss here concerning the Gorn. His eyes flickered at the spot he had appeared minutes before, then back up to the Chief Diplomatic Officer.

"Yes," he finally managed after the tense silence he provoked through the room. "I want to know, Lieutenant, what relation you have to the Gorn."

"None," Ronan said. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back, resting against the edge of his desk, as he waited for whatever came next. There was a snap in the depths of his green eyes, born of past encounters that Ronan stilled with the will that had been his birthright. "None whatsoever."

Oscar met the eyes of the Syndari, focused and calculated as he moved forward a few paces during the next moment of silence that followed. The Security Officer moved with careful posture, making sure not to appear overly threatening or to give away any suspicion he held - not too much, anyway. The russian then focused on the rooms decor for a moment, before quietly leaning against an empty part of the wall nearest to where Ronan stood. There, he met the Syndarian's gaze again.

"A few days ago, almost a week now, I was a dead man dying in the Delta Quadrant," Oscar began, carefully as he glanced down to tug at his uniform. "Shot with a disruptor through the chest, I died hearing the screams of horror of those I sought to save. But I did save one."

Carefully, he rose a finger to his head, tapping it.

"It, she, whatever it is, was captured by the Jem'Hadar that killed me," the russian continued, his voice polite and fluent at the moment. "The ships Chief Counselor helped me adjust, but there's still some struggle to deal with. Why I bring this up is because this thing inside me is the reason I am alive, and when I observed the circumstances of the Gorn, the thing inside me kept giving the impression that somehow....you were connected."

Oscar lapsed into silenced, his eyes trained on the Syndari now.

Ronan held his position, kept his gaze trained on the security officer, and spoke in a level, measured tone that gave literally nothing away. He was not one to share easily, not on his homeworld, not in the schools and neighborhoods he had lived in on Earth, and not at the Academy. You wanted his story, you had to earn that and this security officer had not. Course, it was also true that he had never laid eyes on the Gorn before that moment and while he knew a fair amount about their people, that was only part of his job. "I don't know what you've got in your head or what it's telling you," Ronan said flatly, "but I'm telling you, I have no connection to him. None ... what ... so ... ever."

Oscar's jaw clenched, ever so gently, as he moved his jaw in a fashion of irritation, perhaps aggression. The Russian almost moved to step forward to accept the unspoken challenge, to earn the information in another fashion. There was a moment of stall, where his foot fell but did not go further. He quickly righted himself, coming off the wall to tap his combadge.

=A= Lieutenant Vladinchi to Security, the situation is resolved and under control. Recommend a sensor sweep of the room before we call it secure. I'm returning to my patrol. Vladinchi, out. =A=

Through his words, his eyes bore into the Syndarian. There was a hint there, the birth of distrust, suspicion. Oscar had personally been involved in an event of dimensional transportation, albeit the destination was apparently still in his home dimension - by observations and chronoton readings taken - and hundreds of lightyears off the mark. This situation smelled of that same instance, another one of IT'S kind, the thing inside him, perhaps the one that had originally got the one inside him enslaved. There was a whole story there untold and beyond his comprehension, a life entirely lived in a different perspective and dimension, one wherein the suspicion of something evil lurked and the fear of that evil altogether.

Slowly, the Lieutenant gave a kind nod. "My apologies then, Lieutenant D'Anvers," Oscar said, attempting his best to say the Syndari's last name properly. "Observing the situation, one couldn't be sure what transpired, or how. I suspect you were simply a victim of circumstance. Perhaps we can discuss more over a drink sometime."

"Or other things," Ronan said nodding politely. His gaze was cool, not wintry chill exactly, but cool enough. The man was not the easiest to read, no doubt a gift of his security training, but Ronan could see that all was not well between them. Happenstance had brought the Gorn to his office but that was never going to be enough to a closed mind. So be it. He could stand up under scrutiny; wouldn't be the first time or even the tenth. "Now if you'll excuse me, Lieutenant ..."

Oscar nodded, taking the hint. He left without further preamble, exiting the room as quickly as the sliding doors could close behind him.


[END]

----------
Lieutenant Ronan D'Anvers
Chief Diplomatic Officer
USS Poseidon

&

Lieutenant Oscar Vladinchi
Security Officer
USS Poseidon

&

Lieutenant Lazarus Kord
Unaffiliated Stowaway
USS Poseidon

with short appearance by

Captain Franklin Johnson
Commanding Officer
USS Poseidon

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