From: Shawn _ (alamo_nate_at_yahoo.com)
Date: Sat Jul 26 2008 - 14:06:01 PDT
=History Lesson=
(cont'd from "Saturday")
LOCATION: GATEWAY Station
SCENE: Brig
STARDATE: [2.8]0726.1356
TIME INDEX: Before the events of "Saturday"
The guard on duty led Crichton over to the cell where his double was kept. The mirror-Crichton was lying on his back on the cell’s tiny bed, staring at the ceiling. He did not turn to look at Crichton when the engineer approached. The guard nodded and returned to his post, leaving Crichton to stand for a few moments in front of the glimmering forcefield, regarding his double silently. Finally, mirror-Crichton turned to look at him.
“Was there something I can help you with?” he asked, frowning.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” Crichton said. “You really saved my bacon. I appreciate it.”
“Oh, *that*,” the doppelganger said, waving it off. “Please. I could have done it in my sleep.”
“I’m still grateful,” Crichton shrugged. “And if there’s anything you need…”
“I think maybe we should get something straight,” the mirror-Crichton cut in, sitting up on the bed and staring at Crichton with his one good eye. “I don’t feel some sort of ooey-gooey bond with you just because we happen to be the same person. I helped you to get my sentence reduced. That’s all.”
“I don’t believe that,” Crichton said, folding his arms skeptically.
“Oh, I admit, there was just a teensy-weensy bit of interest as to what you’d be like,” mirror-Crichton admitted. “But once I saw you were pretty much the same as everyone else in the stupid universe, I quickly got over it. Oh sure, maybe you’re a little bit smarter than most, but you’re still a joke.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Crichton said defensively.
“Your war with the Dominion, your stupid ‘Star Fleet’, the way you approach problems, hoping to win more flies with honey than vinegar,” the double said, ticking each one off on his fingers. “It’s like you’re all so terrified you’ll get a bad performance review, or wrinkle your pretty little costumes. It’s ridiculous. I’m surprised your Federation has survived this long.”
“We caught you,” Crichton pointed out. “Maybe your universe’s ‘run headlong into obstacles until they break or we do’ approach isn’t so great either.”
“It was three ships against one,” mirror-Crichton replied. Then, remembering the condition of the MATACO, “Well, two and a half, at least. And even so, I seem to remember giving you a pretty good run for your money.”
“I didn’t come here to argue with you,” Crichton said. “I just wanted to say thank you. That doesn’t mean we need to be friends.”
“Good,” the double said with a frown. “Because we’re not going to be. When I look at you, I see a man who has gotten every break, had everything handed to him, and doesn’t even realize how lucky he is. Like everyone else in the damn universe. To be honest, you all sicken me.”
“Had everything handed to me?” Crichton said, angry now. “I know you’re new to this universe, but for your information, this station has been through more in the last eight months than you have in your whole life. And me along with it.”
The double stood now and approached the forcefield, glaring at Crichton through the shimmering field of blue. His next words were spoken through clenched teeth.
“You think so?”
“I do,” Crichton replied, his tone just as dark.
“You want to hear how I ended up on the SHIV?” mirror-Crichton asked. “My parents owned a private mining ship, and I was their Chief Engineer. Since most mineral deposits had been depleted in the *civilized* parts of the galaxy, private miners without cushy contracts have to go out to the dangerous parts of space to ply their trade. It was on one such trip that we received a distress signal.
“It was from a crippled one-man transport, who claimed he was attacked by a pirate vessel. He managed to escape, but then his propulsion and life-support systems burned out, and he was stuck drifting through space, slowly running out of air. He begged and he pleaded for us to bring him aboard… and my dad, being the generous guy he was, decided we couldn’t leave someone out to die.
“Of course, a few hours after we bring him aboard, along comes the SHIV, captained by that bitch Daisy Byrne. They radio us, saying that they know we’ve got their quarry aboard, and that we’ve got two choices: lower the shields and let them come aboard, or get blown out of the sky. And I don’t know how friendly pirates are in this universe, but where I come from, letting them come aboard is the same as signing your own death warrant. So we try to run for it.
“Our ship didn’t even have any weapons. But even so, I figured out a way to fight back, using focused discharges of static electricity from our hull, I managed to knock out the SHIV’s shields and weaken their propulsion system. But we were outgunned, and the SHIV disabled us after only a few shots. Rather than blowing us up, like they’d said, they docked and came aboard. It didn’t take long for them to subdue our crew, and the next thing I know, we’re all rounded up and brought to the bridge.
“Daisy says she’s going to execute the whole lot of us, but not before she finds out who it was who figured out that trick with the static discharges. An engineer that good, she can’t pass up, she says. She promises a reprieve to whoever turns me in. And you want to know who speaks up? It’s that son of a bitch we saved… the man we brought aboard, who Daisy had come looking for in the first place. So Daisy thanks him, then breaks his neck right there in front of everyone. Then she turns to me, grinning like some evil idiot, and tells me to watch as she murders my whole crew in front of me.
“I tried to close my eyes, but Daisy’s goons held them open and made me look. They didn’t even use phasers… they used knives, clubs, chains; anything they could find to make it as slow and messy as possible. Then, when the cries finally stop, they drag me back to the SHIV… but not before setting my ship, the only home I ever knew, to self-destruct.
“I vowed I wouldn’t ever do what she wanted, and you know what my reward was? This.”
The mirror-Crichton pointed to his missing eye. “Daisy cut it out the first time I refused to do what she said. And this isn’t even the ugliest scar I have. So don’t you tell me how hard you’ve got it. Because I bet you didn’t have to watch your parents die right before your eyes.”
Crichton could only stand in stunned silence for several moments as his double glared at him through the forcefield. Finally, a soft “I’m sorry” was all he could muster.
“Yeah,” the mirror-Crichton said, sighing as he returned to his bunk to lay down. “I bet you are. It’s a luxury, you know, feeling sorry for someone. I can’t feel sorry for anyone anymore.”
Crichton’s eyes dropped the floor.
“You’re welcome,” the mirror-Crichton said. “For saving your life. Now go away.”
---------------------------------------------------------------
LOCATION: HAVEN Space Station
SCENE: Rakka’s Office
Raxl Dreyton stood at the edge of a broken-out window, overlooking a large bar crowded with an assortment of seedy-looking patrons. Nearly all of the patrons (a few remained uninterested in anything but the drinks in front of them… Raxl spared a moment to admire their commitment) stood staring up at him, wide-eyed and with a variety of expressions, ranging from shocked and horrified to bloodthirsty and eager. Raxl surmised that this had something to do with the struggling Cardassian whom he was currently holding by the lapels. Raxl was currently dangling the alien over a 30 foot drop to the bar below, and doing his best to keep the conversation friendly, in spite of the strain he was probably putting on their relationship.
“You know, Rakka,” he commented, “I really feel like we never just… *talk* anymore.”
“You don’t scare me, Dreyton,” Rakka spat. “You’re not going to drop me. HAVEN security is probably already on their way. How exactly do you plan to explain this to them?”
“That depends on what condition you’re in when they get here,” Raxl grinned. “Now, you going to tell me what I want to know, or am I going to have to talk my way out of being arrested for crippling a local businessman?”
“You think you can attack *me?*” Rakka sneered, an evil smile on his face. “In my own bar? I take it you’ve forgotten where you are.”
“*I’m* not the one whose about to get my legs broken,” Raxl growled, bringing Rakka’s face close to his own. “Now talk, spoon-head. I don’t have time for this.”
“You want to see Martin Anders?” Rakka chuckled. “Just stay right where you are, doing exactly what you’re doing. Then you and he will have a nice face to face chat.”
Raxl raised an eyebrow, confused. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re about to find out,” Rakka said. “Now, if you’re planning to drop me, kindly get on with it. I *do* have other appointments today.”
Raxl frowned, but he pulled Rakka back inside the window and threw him roughly to the floor. The Cardassian picked himself up and dusted himself off, then glanced casually out the broken window and smiled as he saw a group of armed men rushing into the bar.
“Security’s arrived,” he said, smirking at Raxl. “Goodbye, Dreyton. I have a feeling we won’t be meeting again.”
Frustrated, Raxl threw a hard right-cross into the Cardassian’s jaw.. Rakka dropped immediately, unconscious. It was a small consolation, but it helped a little that Raxl no longer had to listen to his taunting. He put his hands up and cursed loudly as he waited for security to arrive and take him into custody.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
LOCATION: HAVEN
SCENE: Detention Cell
TIME INDEX: Three days later
The security team had not been gentle. Raxl had a broken nose, a split lip, and a blackened eye. On the whole he was okay, but that was small consolation considering the fact that he was unlikely to stay that way for very long. Pirates weren’t known for their fair and balanced justice system, and Raxl didn’t think they were big believers in Community Service either. All Rakka had to do was testify that Raxl had come to HAVEN to kill him, and Raxl’s number would be up.
Of course, it might be a longer wait than Raxl expected. Another thing pirates weren’t known for was a *speedy* justice-system, and he’d heard more than a few stories about prisoners arrested, locked away in detention cells, and forgotten. The conditions in a pirate-prison were also a long way from being considered “five-star”. Prisoners were fed once a day, and that’s only when the guards remembered to feed them. Raxl had done time in worse places, but not many.
Raxl sat on the tiny cot, his back resting against one of the walls of his cell. He had his eyes closed, trying his best to sleep but having a hard time of it. Things weren’t exactly quiet in HAVEN’s detention-center; screams of “I’m innocent!”, moans of starving men and women, and soft weeping filled the air, not muffled one bit by the large, durasteel door that sealed him in.
The sound of approaching footsteps were also not muffled. Raxl assumed it was just a guard, coming by with his daily meal (which usually was little more than a tin of nutritional supplements and a sip or two of water). But rather than the tiny food-slot sliding aside, there came a loud pounding on the door. Raxl opened his eyes and frowned.
“Prisoner!” came a gruff voice from the other side of the durasteel door. “We are opening your cell. You try anything funny, we’ll vaporize ya’!”
“Duly noted,” Raxl said. “Come on in.”
The door slid aside, and it took Raxl’s eyes a few moments to adjust to the change in lighting. At first, he could only make out three blurry images. Two of them appeared to have disruptor rifles aimed right at him, while the third stood between them, unmoving. As Raxl’s eyes adjusted to the light, he realized that he recognized the person in the middle.
It was Martin Anders. He was dressed in expensive-looking clothes, but Raxl noted that he still wore a large, dangerous-looking disruptor in a holster on his belt. For him to be here in the Detention Center, with an armed-escort, meant that was somebody important on HAVEN… which meant that any hope Raxl had of apprehending him had pretty much disappeared altogether..
“I hear you were looking for me,” Anders said, regarding Raxl with interest. “Let me guess… Budo Pumbular sent you, didn’t he?”
“Not quite,” Raxl said. “You’ve got a legitimate bounty on your head. Pumbular just brought it to my attention.”
“Right,” Anders smirked. “And how much did he offer to pay you on the side, just to show his gratitude?”
“It doesn’t matter *what* he paid me,” Raxl said. “I’m not here to kill you. I just want to… you know… arrest you. As respectfully as possible, of course.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble,” Anders said, “but you’re not going to be doing either. If it were up to me, you’d spend the rest of your life rotting in this cell, awaiting trial. But Rakka’s insisting we bump you up to the top of the list. Your trial’s in the morning.”
“Tell him I said thanks,” Raxl said. “The food here is terrible. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”
“There’s something else you should know,” Anders said, his smile widening and giving the impression of a crocodile about to bite the head off a gazelle. “I’m going to be presiding over your trial.”
Raxl took this like a punch to the stomach. “Okay, see, that’s just not fair.”
“That’s HAVEN for you, Dreyton,” Anders shrugged. “As is your legal right, you’ll be provided with representation. That’s assuming I remind them to call somebody to represent you, of course.”
“I feel like we’re not going to like each other very much,” Raxl observed, his tone more than a little indignant. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a busy day of sitting in the dark and not doing anything ahead of me. Better get on top of it, you know.”
“I’d hate to keep you,” Anders said. “See you in the morning.”
----------------------------------------------------------------------
LOCATION: HAVEN Space Station
SCENE: Courtroom
TIME INDEX: The next morning
The courtroom didn’t like very much like the several courtrooms Raxl had seen over the course of his life. The walls were all a neutral, durasteel grey, with a large podium mounted to the floor at the front of the chamber. A blood-red banner with the logo of a black fist hung from the banner, and Raxl assumed this was the logo that whatever pirate lord currently ruled this system had chosen as his colors.
As he was led into the chamber, Raxl noted the rows of seating on either side of the room. The seats were filled with an assortment of men, women, and aliens. They weren’t a jury- Raxl knew that pirate courts didn’t decide things by jury trials- but were likely there because they each held a controlling interest in the operation of HAVEN and so had the right to attend any trial they so chose. Raxl wondered if they were all just bored, if they actually cared what happened to him here today.
It didn’t take long for Raxl to pick Rakka’s face out of the crowd. The Cardassian had a sinister smile on his face as Raxl was brought to stand before the podium. Raxl stared daggers back at Rakka for a moment before bringing his gaze up to the man seated at the podium above him- Martin Anders.
Anders banged a small stone against the podium. “Let court come to order.”
The noise in the room gradually silenced, and Anders continued. “Raxl Dreyton, you stand accused of violating laws against violence aboard HAVEN. The penalty for this crime is death. Do you understand the charge against you, and the punishment you will receive if found guilty?”
“Oh, how cute,” Raxl smirked, glancing around the room. “You guys got all dressed up and want to play ‘Matlock’.”
“Does the accused have legal council?” Anders asked, looking around the room. “No? Of course, if no council is here to represent him, the accused will forfeit his defense and this trial will proceed immediately to sentencing.”
“I will represent the accused.”
Anders stared in shock. Raxl was more than a little surprised, too. He turned his head to see who in the crowd had spoken up, and when he saw who it was, he wasn’t sure if he felt relieved… or totally hopeless..
The man who’d volunteered to defend him was Rakka.
------------------------------------------------------------------
LOCATION: GATEWAY Station
SCENE: Bar on the Promenade
Crichton sat at the bar, nursing a strong drink and reflecting on the story his double had told him. It was difficult for him to hear the story… he knew that the mirror-Crichton’s parents had looked just like his own, and they probably were a lot like Crichton’s own parents. He knew that his own father would have brought the man aboard, just as the mirror-Crichton’s father had. If their situations had been reversed, it could just as easily have been Crichton himself, enslaved aboard the SHIV.
Would he cope with it the same way his double had- by growing cynical and contemptuous for everyone around him? Would he have done what the mirror-Crichton didn’t seem to have the courage to do- end it all? Or would he never give up struggling, looking for a way to escape and avenge what had been done to his family?
Crichton would never know, of course. And he didn’t really want to, either.
Suddenly, there was a hand on the back of Crichton’s neck, massaging it gently. Crichton turned his head and found himself staring into the attractive face of Stephanie Farrell, who was smiling back at him. Stephanie was… well, Crichton wouldn’t exactly call her a girlfriend, but the two of them had been intimate on more than one occasion. That had been back before the wormhole had reopened, and Crichton had always thought they had just been two young people afraid of what the future might bring and looking to enjoy what little life they had left. Things had changed a lot since then, of course- GATEWAY barely survived an all-out assault by the Dominion, the wormhole had reopened, and now the Federation and the Dominion were engaged in a destructive war.
Stephanie Farrell, known also by her call-sign “Black Widow”, was a member of GATEWAY’s fighter squadron; in fact, she was even the Black Squadron leader. As Crichton understood, the woman was absolutely *lethal* when seated in the cockpit of a fighter, and when she wasn’t logging flight-hours, she enjoyed drinking, talking trash, and a variety of other tomboyish activities that made her that much more appealing to Crichton. He hadn’t seen Stephanie since before the covert mission on ANDARA, and found himself genuinely happy to see her again. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she was looking as beautiful as ever- her red hair hang loosely down to her shoulders, and her green eyes twinkled with youthful energy as she grinned at him.
“Hey stranger,” she said. “I haven’t seen you in here for awhile.”
“I’ve been busy,” Crichton smiled back. “There’s a war on, you know.”
“Is that what all that noise is every morning? It’s getting so I can’t sleep in at all.”
Crichton laughed, and it felt good to be able to laugh after everything his double had told him. He wanted to put it out of his mind; to Hell with that mirror-Crichton anyway. Who was he to show up in someone else’s universe and criticize how things were done?
“So what’s up?” Stephanie asked, taking a seat next to him at the bar. “You look depressed. Nothing left on GATEWAY for you to fix?”
“No, not that,” Crichton said. “I… I just don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Fair enough,” Stephanie shrugged. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Well, for starters,” Crichton said, turning to look at her pretty eyes. “I’d like to buy you a drink.”
“They’re free, but I appreciate the gesture,” Stephanie said, giving him a winning smile.
“And I appreciate the company.”
========================================================================
NRPG: A lot going on here- just wanted to kind of wrap up the mirror-Crichton thing by giving a little backstory on him, in case he ever shows up again. Also, more with Raxl Dreyton.
Anyway, ready to get started with the R&R proper. Anyone up for a JP?
Shawn Putnam
a.k.a.
Jacob Crichton, Lieutenant
Chief of Engineering
GATEWAY Station, GS-2
From HyperNews_at_youth.net
This archive was generated by hypermail 2.1.5 : Wed Nov 19 2008 - 03:10:55 PST