From: Jerome McKee (parakeety_at_hotmail.com)
Date: Mon May 28 2007 - 05:30:16 PDT
"THE DAMNATION GAME"
(Continued from "Discussion")
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Captain's Log, Supplemental -
My meeting with Vedek Dawan and Ranjen Roh has raised more questions than
answers, and all of them ominous. If the Vedek is correct in identifying the
Orb of Judgement, then we have entered a period of Bajoran prophecy known as
the End Times - an apocalyptic period in which the Prophets judge the
Bajoran people on their achievements thus far. What that means for everyone
else is less than clear...
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Location: Un Lugar Para Todo, Promenade
Stardate: [27]0528.1335
Scene: Corner Booth
Michael Turlogh Kane had just tucked into a delicious (and most unhealthy)
breakfast fry-up and opened a PADD on Bajoran prophecy, when a shadow fell
over him. He looked up in some annoyance to see the not-displeasing form of
Xana Bonviva blocking the light.
She was polite, but didn't smile. "Do you mind if I join you, Captain Kane?"
"I'd rather you didn't, Ambassador. I have lots of work to do, and I'm in no
mood for your inane barbs."
Xana sat down anyway. "The barbs are on hold for now. We need to formulate a
policy on how we're going to deal with the Orb."
Kane frowned. "The policy is simple. I manage the station, you remain in
touch with the diplomatic corps. This will all blow over soon enough."
Xana shook her head. "I was talking to my husband last night, and he's
informed me of the End Times prophecy. Word is already spreading amongst the
Bajorans on the station, and tensions are rising." She paused a moment,
searching for the right words. "You must understand that to most Bajorans,
their faith in the Prophets is the cornerstone of their very existence. When
they begin to react to the arrival of these End Times, your Bajoran crew
will paralyse themselves with fear and religious fervour. That's the problem
with oligarchies - "
"BAJOR isn't an oligarchy."
"It is at its heart, Captain. If the Kai woke up one morning and said that
the universe was about to end, he'd be believed. So far he's not reacted to
the news of the Orb's arrival, but when he *does* accept it as genuine it'll
spark panic in the streets. Apocalypses in any faith are hard to ignore."
Kane deactivated the PADD and pushed his plate away. "I was under the
impression that the End Times were a period of judgement by the Prophets,
not an apocalypse."
"It's more than that. Bajorans think that if the Prophets themselves decide
them unworthy, then they'll withdraw back into the Celestial Temple or
wherever it is they come from. Nobody knows what the criteria for judgement
are, what the Prophets are judging the Bajorans on, or even *why* they feel
they need to. This leads to huge spiritual strife - how can you please your
gods if you don't know what's going to make them happy? You'd be petrified
to do *anything* in case it wasn't the *right* thing to do." Xana indicated
the PADD that Kane had been reading. "The prophecies of their mystics and
seers tell the Bajorans what will happen if they are found wanting, and
those prophecies can be interpreted any number of ways by any two-bit
demagogue with an agenda to further."
Kane nodded slowly. "I'll arrange another meeting with Vedek Dawan and
organise limitations on the amount of people viewing the Orb. I'll recommend
that it be moved to BAJOR as soon as possible. Any assistance you can give
via diplomatic channels will be welcome." He raised a purposeful eyebrow.
"We'll see if we can't dissipate some of this tension you say is floating
around. I'm sure Vedek Dawan and Ranjen Roh will help."
Xana seemed satisfied. "Good. Then I shall leave you to your breakfast,
Captain."
She left behind a worried man.
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Scene: Temple of the Prophets, Promenade
Vedek Dawan finished his prayer and stood up from his knees. He was old now,
with many winters behind him, but his faith in the Prophets still burned
bright in his breast, and his fervour to be their servant had not dimmed
with advancing years. He silently asked for their strength and wisdom,
losing himself in the presence of the Orb. The blessed relic had been housed
behind a protective forcefield, its divine power temporarily held in check
by an earth-bound seal.
Twice now he had consulted the Prophets, and twice now he had been told that
the End Times were underway. It made his heart heavy, but he obeyed the will
of the Prophets in all things - they had not deigned to tell him *why* they
had chosen to send the Orb of Judgement *now*, but he knew that the Prophets
did nothing at random, nothing on a whim.
he returned to full awareness, feeling the familiar presence of Ranjen Roh
at his shoulder. The younger man was always at hand, as a good Ranjen should
be.
"One of the pilgrims is ill, Vedek," said Roh gently. "I have sent for a
medical team."
The pilgrims. More and more of them were arriving on a daily basis, seeking
guidance and spiritual rejuvenation from the Orb. Many prayed to the
Prophets to stay their hands, sure that their living gods were about to
smite them all with impending doom. "Have you not tended to them?" smiled
Dawan. "Did you not used to be a student of medicine?"
"Many years ago, Vedek," said Roh quietly. "Now I serve a higher
philosophy."
[[Captain Kane to Vedek Dawan.]]
The old man looked up in surprise. "I am here, Captain." He stained to
listen - their new captain's accent was not altogether easy on his ears, and
all this talking over a comnet felt odd. It was easier to gauge a person who
was standing right in front of you.
[[We need to talk, Vedek. I need more information on the End Times, and I
think we should discuss the future of the Orb on GATEWAY. Please come to my
reasy room this afternoon.]]
"I will, Captain." Dawan waited a moment for the connection to terminate. He
looked at Roh. "I suppose I shall go to my quarters and sleep a while. Will
you attend to the pilgrims?"
"I have another matter to attend to," said Roh, bowing respectfully. "The
prylars will keep the pilgrims in good hands for a short time. May the
Prophets bless you with strength and wisdom, Vedek."
"And you, Ranjen." Dawan limply walked out of the temple, wearily waving
and smiling to the assembled pilgrims.
Why, he wondered, do I feel so tired all of a sudden?
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Scene: Security Centre
Kat Potter waddled into Hannibal's office, where Yao and Jeff were waiting.
The baby weighed her down - a wheel under her belly would be a godsend; that
way, she could rest herself on it and simply roll around. She was sure that
she was fatter than a Tarkanian land whale.
She became aware of everyone looking at her as she gingerly lowered herself
(maybe an anti-grav unit! *That* would be helpful!) into her seat. She
pointed at her husband. "Don't blame me. It's all *his* fault.
Yao was staring in fascination at her bump. "Sexual reproduction is quite
disgusting."
Kat farted silently. "Tell me about it. Now, we're here to talk about the
murder investigation."
Jeff was grinning. "Yes indeed. Now, my autopsy report has been forwarded to
you all. The victim was killed with a specialised blade, possibly surgical,
possibly indicating prior medical experience. Lieutenant Yao?"
The J'naii consulted her PADD. "Prior to the killing, the victim was drugged
with dolocaine tree sap, a plant native to the planet BAJOR. My bloodwork
and toxicology findings indicate that it was applied in a precise amount,
most probably via a liquid medium to allow the effects to gradually become
apparent. Dolocaine tree sap is a disassociative soporific - it is probable
that the victim was awake, if unaware, while the killing took place."
"That leads onto me," said Hannibal. "Examination of security footage from
Schrodonger's Cat reveals that the victim left the bar in a seemingly
intoxicated state with an as-yet-unidentified companion. This companion is
the prime suspect in the case. His likeness has been sent to all security
stations, but he's probably in disguise anyway. We're going through each and
every male Bajoran in the station for approximate matches, but there are no
definite leads yet."
Kat checked her PADD. "The picture is gradually being filled in. Our killer
is a male Bajoran of specified height and weight, with a knowledge of
Bajoran physiology and probable prior knowledge of surgical procedures. Good
work, everyone. Keep it up - we'll have this madman soon enough." She
paused. "Now, can someone help me to stand up?"
Amid the chuckling, Jeff stood up and offered her his hand.
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Scene: Counselor's Office
Gene McInnis held his ear-ring in his hands, turning it over and over in his
fingers, watching with detached fascination how it caught the overhead
lighting and sparkled. He looked, too, out his viewing port at the wormhole
- the Celestial Temple? - that was hanging open in the distance. A long line
of space vessels snaked in and out of the event horizon, alternately
emerging from and being swallowed up by its great maw, arriving from or
beginning a journey of some seventy thousand light years.
It was hard to think of it like that - BAJOR was so far away, yet is was as
close as a simple five-minute trip through the wormhole. If he reached his
arm through it, he pondered, he could perhaps grasp his homeworld like a
bauble in a cloth.
The arrival of the End Times worried him, frankly. Depnding on who you
asked, the Prophets were either going to encourage a new spiritual rebirth
in the Bajoran people... or else annhilate them for their failures. It was
maddening to think on, but there were maddening times. Would the worst
really happen? Surely not.
He wondered... should he say a prayer?
His door hissed open, and Nick cannon entered. Immediately, Gene knew that
something was wrong - Nick looked bedraggled, like he hadn't slept properly
in days. He was unshaven, red-eyed, and his hair was a wild mop. "Nick? Are
you alright?"
The fighter pilot seemed not to be even aware of him, but then focused on
him with bleary eyes. "I need to talk," he said tiredly. "I've been - I've
been seeing things..."
His distress was genuine. Gene stood up. "Come in. Tell me about it."
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Scene: Outside Vedek Dawan's quarters
Kane pushed the touch-panel that activated the door prompt. He waited
impatently, but there was no reply. He cursed the old man inwardly - now was
not the time to go into solitude. Xana's conversation with him this morning
was weighing heavily on his mind, and he needed Dawan's advice and
assistance with what to do in the days ahead. The old Vedek was late for
their meeting - a quick call to the Temple had found the place rudderless,
with both the Vedek and the Ranjen both out and the prylars attempting to
keep some sense of order amongst the pilgrims.
"Vedek Dawan, are you there?" Kane grated in irritation.
Still nothing. To hell with this, Kane thought. He opened the door and
walked into Dawan's quarters, expecting to find the old git snoring in his
bed or dozing in his favourite chair.
What he found was like a blow to the head. Kane reeled up against the
doorway when he saw the blood, staggered down onto one knee as the stench
hit his nostrils, and gasped, retching, as he drank in the terrible sight.
Vedek Dawan's corpse was splayed out in the middle fo the floor, limbs
akimbo in the offal-sodden carpet. The place was like an abbatoir, and Kane
clutched at his own throat as a wave of nasuea threatened to overcome him.
It was a hideous nightmare pastiche. Written on the wall, daubed in blood,
were words that sent him into panic.
THE END TIMES ARE HERE!
Blindly, dumbly, Kane fumbled for his communicator.
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NRPG: The most prominent Bajoran priest on the station is dead, the second
victim of the serial killer stalking the corridors. This is going to have a
bad effect on the thousands of pilgrims who have come to see the Orb - will
Roh and the prylars be able to keep them calm? Now you all have a second
murder to investigate - are there any clues that you've picked up that might
help identify the killer? And now that a second corpse has been found, how
will it affect your work, your interpersonal relationships with friends and
family? After all, the killer could be *anyone*...
We had another slow weekend, so come on now, let's pick this story up!
Jerome McKee
the Soul of Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer
GATEWAY STATION
the Soul of Lieutenant Solomon Arn
Senior Instructor
Starfleet Academy
"He speaks an infinite deal of nothing!"
- Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", Act 1, Scene 1.113
"We are not retreating - we are simply advancing in another direction."
- General Douglas MacArthur
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