From: Katrina L. Browne (kbrowne_at_wellesley.edu)
Date: Fri Jul 18 2008 - 00:27:46 PDT
-=(^)=- “Parallels” Con’t From: “As You Wish” Location: GS-2 Stardate. 2.80718.1205 Scene: Brig Time Index: After capturing some of the SHIV, personel. “You must be the ersatz version of me,” the scarred warrior said, dismissively. “Oh?…I don’t see much resemblance between us,” The blue woman with porcelain smooth skin noted, surveying the extensive scarring her other-dimensional counterpart had experienced. “Funny. I do. You’re blue and look like someone else is holding your chain,” the captive reflected. Eishnala decided to not take offense. The statement said more about the other woman’s feelings of impotence. “So I take it you are the other dimension’s Eishnala sh’Kor? The other me?” The naval officer asked. “sh’Kor?” Eish was surprised. The prisoner reappraised her captor. Her voice filled with a note of respect that had been wholly absent moments before, but also a sadness that the pirate rarely exposed. “I’m no seed mother. I’m Eish h’Kor.” A silence filled the space of the interrogation room. Eish supplanted it, awe-filled. “It is an honor to be fertile.” “It’s an honor to be a slave?” Eishnala hyperbolically asked. The qvni was always a sensitive subject with her. It was one of those small ironies of life that sensitive subjects rile people more than actually insults. The qvni was a sure way to pique the cerulean officer. “We’re all slaves. One way or another. You just wear the brand of your servitude proudly,” Eish noted the uniform accented with gray. Eishnala had adopted it quietly after seeking a transfer back to tactical. “I wouldn’t have expected a pirate to be a nihilist philosopher,” Lieutenant Commander Kor deadpanned coolly. “I could say something cliché about being full of surprises,” Eish shrugged, before shaking her head. “How dare you impugn the highest gift an Andorian can give her clan and an empire…I was a champion, a champion. Unbeaten after years of mortal combat. Yet, that honor was less than what would have been bestowed upon me if I could have born the name sh’Kor.” “I swear there must be an inter-dimensional, pan-universal conspiracy…you sound just like my patriarch,” The Gateway’s Kor sighed, making a concerted effort to not be bothered after her outburst. She chided herself mentally. Her years of security interrogation should have taught her better than to have an outburst in front of a prisoner because it empowered them. “I’m not surprised. Grandfather Sorjei ch’Kor lor’Thethazz’aamm’Andor,” Eish used his full name as a sign of respect on at least two of the potentially infinite Andorias, “has always been a famous proponent of the old ways. It’s what saved us when Andor came in contact with the Empire. We’ve always been a vassal society. War would have been devastating, but being warriors for the penultimate force in the galaxy was a most welcome prospect.” “I guess some things never change. I suppose he’s too stubborn for just one dimension,” her curls bounced when she shock her head. “You seem to highly respect him, but you’re an apostate. Sorjei must not take too kindly to that.” Eish hissed. “Respect your place! How dare you speak of him so informally.” “h’Kor, you know your place in Andorian society I presume. But you do not know my Andor, nor do you know the social status of someone who is fertile within our Kor clan,” she said, pointing out the logical problems with applying the rules of one dimension to another. “Sorjei and I were…quite close before he felt that I defied him,” Eishnala said softly. Her eyes reflected a sadness that, hardened as Eish was, she too mirrored. The moment passed and whatever emotion had flickered across Lieutenant Commander Kor’s face quickly was hidden by the stoic mask that had become her companion when she abandoned Andor. “So…what did you do?” “I was a champion. I told you that. Undefeated…” Eish hedged. “You cheated,” the revelation came clearly to the Starfleet officer. “Everyone cheats,” her doppelganger snarled. “The difference is I got caught. And in an honor match against another clan.” -=(^)=- Location: ALTERNATE ANDORIA Scene: Dueling Ring Time Index: Before Eish joined the SHIV A column of light illuminated a round disk of white linen that was several meters in diameter. Eish closed her eyes for a moment absorbing the din of the crowd that was obscured by the stage lights, for at its heart, that what the dueling pitch was—a stage of death. It was the pinnacle of mortal drama on Andoria and no special effects were required. The humors of the combatants provided all the show. Well…that was the official line. There were always a few special effects that the combatants had cooked up themselves at play. Most things in the empire were gaudy at some level. And what fight could be complete on mirror Andoria without an obnoxious announcer in tow? “Representing the Kor Clan: Eish h’Kor, a vetran of over a hundred matches and current reigning champion of Andor. She’s just returned from a contest hosted for the emperor’s own birthday gala.” Eish opened her eyes and stepped into her role. She was fighter, a warrior, a champion…but mostly she was required to be an entertainer. Cheers erupted at the end of her announcement and the scarred blue woman raised a bracer that had a menacingly glinting blade running along its length. Her voice boomed through the several tiered galleries, amplified so that the faceless audience could hear every taunt and jest that the competitors exchanged. “Clan Kor…” hearty calls filled the space “…insists on satisfaction. Clan Alden has supplanted honor with sophistry in the hallowed halls of the Council. As the first clan among equals….” Cheers cascaded from the stands, even louder than before….but then pandering usually works with the masses. “…it is Clan Kor’s duty to demand justice for the people of Andor.” The din was deafening. Practice (and a bit of deafness) was all that kept Eish’s antennae from wilting under the barrage. “And we’ll see honor restored today,” the disembodied announcer proclaimed. “But Clan Alden might have something to say about those charges. To speak, in the oldest language, for Clan Alden: Mithran Alden lin'Jos.” An old champion stepped into the ring from the darkened fringe. “The Aldens will no longer tolerate the tyranny of the Clan Kor and its perfidious relationship with the Empire. Andor has always stood alone and strong. We should regain our rightful and honorable place in the galaxy as equals. Clan Alden will not let Clan Kor turn Andorians into a subordinate race.” Clapping and hollering erupted after his speech, more quietly though as the politics behind this match interested few. They had come for blood sport. The announcer explained the significance of the white linen. If there were no deaths, honor was satisfied by the spilling of first blood to hit the linen. There were always deaths. Both fighters knew that when they stepped into that ring only one would walk out. Under that circumstance, the linen became a death shroud for the losing party. Attendants entered the ring bearing a heavy chain. “As the battle is enjoined, the fighters are enjoined,” the announcer quoted the ancient text that had for centuries dictated ritual combat on Andoria. Her attendant Kal h’Pec smiled knowingly as she fumbled with the links. “I see your bracer registered as standard weight.” “So it seems,” Eish said. “And I suppose the chain is standard too?” “Oh, I assure you it is the most standard chain the stadium has. Kroan h’Sost and I had an argument about which to use, but he knows that deference is always given to the Kor Clan at the capital stadium.” “The Sost have never been antenna to antenna with the Kor,” Eish joked, “But I guess it’s not Kroan’s fault his people are of more diminutive stature….in more ways that one I see,” she said as she eyed the short attendant a fixing the chain to her opponent. “Kroan’s not so bad. Some Sost are shorter,” Kal said with a glittering smile. It was widely known amongst the circuit that Kal and Kroan were as close to being an item as two ‘h prefixed individuals could be. Eish smiled at her long time friend. “I see the Sost at least know when to pay deference where its due….Third link?” “Third link,” Kal nodded and stepped away after the locking device engaged with a deadly snapping noise. The announcer’s voice boomed through the stadium again. “Just as the blade has been the lifeline of Andor, the combatants will live and die by its mercy.” The traditional bladed weapon was carried out in ornamental boxes by the competitor’s attendants, who then receded into the shadows again. The operator of the loudspeaker cued appropriately garish music that had an overly prominent baseline belted by monstrously large drums. The Kor and Alden warriors began to circle, eying one another across the linen void. Dueling with a chain attached to your arm provided new tactics. Jos walked heavily, but not always evenly. Fighting on the circuit toke its toll, but as the Alden Clan was relatively small, he probably dueled infrequently. His age also suggested that conclusion. Few gladiators lived to see their downy hair tinge with yellow and gray. In comparison, Eish was light on her feet. Or so it seemed. Mithran tugged when she was midstride, trying to catch the Kor warrior flat footed and ensure she would remains so. Eish quickly planted her weight as she saw the old man tense when he prepared to pull on the chain. Jos stumble backwards slightly as he tried tugging. Yet, it was enough for Eish to view it as a window of opportunity. The Andorian woman pulled back, but kept her feet planted to avoid making the same mistake Jos had when he had tried destabilizing her. She gripped the chain and tugged, forcing her opponent closer to her. Jos hopped, trying to remain on his feet as he was pulled across the arena. Eish dropped the chain. A heavy thud reverberated through the space as it hit the ground. But the wry Mithran remained afoot and more than ready for the vaunted Eish. She was young and full of flash, but he had survived to an age that Eish h’Kor would never see. The problem with fame was that it was fleeting and in this business that tended to mean one thing. Someone better always eventually came along. Though, Jos’ good fortune might have had something to do with his people’s notorious skill with medicine. His once lovely, but now exceedingly marred foe swung the ushan’tor in a wide arc, which Mithran deftly danced around. Two could dance. As Mithran parried, Eish spun towards him, closing the remaining distance between them. Killing blows never came from a distance… Well there was that one time the blade of her bracer had broken off while she defelected a blow with the guard/weapon and had flown into the chest of that Klingon…but that was entirely incidental. That wasn’t really her victory, but that didn’t mean she didn’t claim credit for it when the Emperor had personally thanked her for a “fine show.” …A sickening thud sounded over the soft chatter of the mob. Kor had brought the non-bladed section of her “altered” bracer down upon Mithran’s shoulder and a chitenous structure had given way. Silence descended upon the seating gallaries. “Has first blood been spilted?” The announcer asked excitedly…”No…The linen is still white.” Jos retained his grip on his weapon and quickly jabbed to force her backwards for a moment. It was clear he was hurt. His shoulder drooped slightly, and he could no longer completely guard his face on the right. -=(^)=- Scene: Gallary seating Two young boys gripped the edge of a balcony watching the fight. One turned to the other and plainly stated, “No one is that strong. She broke a chiten plate with brute force…that’s imposible…” -=(^)=- Scene: Dueling Ring And it would have been impossible if Kal handn’t helped her alter the bracer that had done the damage. Andorian weapons were notoriously sharp because they had to cut through the moons heavy ice layers, but they were also sharp because much of Andorian physiology was a bit fortified. Kor and Jos circled, waiting for the moment. Mithran pressed himself into his opponent this time, bringing an elbow up sharply that a lighter thud indicated had connected with the woman’s nose. Eish made a guttural noise that was amplified through the stadium. “No…no…disappointing. Two solid contacts and blood has yet to flow. This must be an off day for them.” Eish elbowed the older warrior in the back to push him away from her at the same time she made a small arc with her bracer-encased arm. The blade shredded the white tunic Mithran wore. A splash of blue fell upon the arena’s covered floor as cobalt lightly blossomed over the back of Jos’s tunic that most of the arena quickly saw as Mithran turned to face his Amazonian rival. “Excellent. Gladiator Kor has spilt first blood. Is honor satisfied?” Eish and Mithran exchanged a glance. On a kinder heart what Jos mouthed might have moved his advesary…sons…. “Honor requires more than a trifling offering,” Eish bellowed. The crowed applauded. After all, no one had heard of a two minute match in recent memory. “An Alden must pay for the insolence of his people, for his clan…for his *family,*” Eish hissed with a cruel and pointed smile at the elder Mithran. Mithran launched himself with incredible speed while Eish finished herself congratulatory speech. It was a little underhanded, but certainly justified in the ring. Afterall, no Andorian warrior was ever supposed to be “off guard.” The old warrior caught his younger competitor behind the knee and forced her down to the ground. He was upon her. A knee on her stomach kept her down. Eish brought up her bracer to fend him off, but in an angry grunt Mithran forced her arm down and pinned it with his other knee. She could only lift the blade an inch or two off the ground; Mithran was safe from that front, or so he assumed. Mithran raised his Ushan’tor. “This didn’t have to end this way,” he said quietly, before bellowing “Honor can’t be satisfied with blood.” The hush that had spread across the crowd dissolved as whispered conversations began. ‘What did that mean?” “Doesn’t he know the ritual?” “It’s ‘this day, your honor will not be satisfied, isn’t it?” “Blood satisfies everything. He must be crazy.” “She shouldn’t have dropped her guard, but he keeps dropping his shoulder…he won’t survive long with an injury like even if he wins today.” “Kor, you have cruelly misused your fellows. Since barbarism is all you understand, barbarism you shall received,” the Alden representative noted in his “crowd voice.” Eish threw her head to the side as Mithran slowly reraised his blade. The third link of the chain glinted at her under the harsh lights just a little to left. Eish closed her eyes and took a deep breath before striking the bit of that link that was close enough to her. A billow of particulate flew into the air. It quickly fell to the ground, but Mithran hadn’t know to expect it. Jos coughed, his shoulder dropped, his weapon dropped… Eish pushed against him to regain her freedom, but whispers were already going through the crowd. “What just happened? He *had* her.” With her freed arm, she struck at him. Blue blood gushed into the air…gushed over the linen…gushed over Mithran’s body as it quickly became lifeless. A voice louder than any of the other commentators yelled “No” into the void where a once pristine shroud was now soiled. -=(^)=- Location: GS-2 Scene: Brig “We no longer have gladiatorial combat. The only vestige that remains is the personal honor duel. But I imagine that that should have meant your death. Let me guess…someone started asking why he started dying before you struck the death knell?” “Something like that.” “So how did you wind up on that pirate vessel?” Eishnala asked quietly. She looked at the woman opposite her. **How could I have fallen this far?** It was a bit of an ego deflator to see a version of yourself…so…pathetic. “It was a way of ANDORIA.” Eishnala frowned, “I imagine there were many ways of your world. Why this ship? Why choose to birth with a Captain that was fully acknowledged to be fundamentally instable? Why subject yourself to her…whims?” Eish sighed, “I thought there was hope to no longer be infertile. There is a woman on the SHIV who…facilitates these things…” -=(^)=- Scene: Eishnala’s Personal Quarters The azure woman looked into the glassy surface above her water basin. **How can she be so…impotent and so…cruel?** The water whooshed from the faucet, creating a bit of white noise. White noise couldn’t stop her self interrogation. **She and I aren’t so different.** The Lieutenant Commander switched off the device. “Time to make a change.” -=(^)=- NRPG: So I guess it already out there, but yes, I’m transferring. The GATE has been lovely. All of you have been a wonderful community to write with. I hope to continue to lurk and read the great stories that this unit will continue to produce. From HyperNews_at_youth.net
This archive was generated by hypermail 2.1.5 : Wed Nov 19 2008 - 03:10:54 PST