Orb Visions III
Episode Name: Orb Visions III Written By: Belgarath Cast: Caeli, Carlos, Fortunae, Kresa, Niel, Tenala and Va'tol. Produced By: Starfleet Directed By: Journey Aired On: Tue May 20 03:51:20 2003 Stardate: 53227.1
Time: Thu May 08 16:07:37 2003
Stardate: 53199.5
Deep in the bowels of the station, Destiny lies. Keep by Bajoran mystics. As Caeli enters the cargo hold, moving past the security detail outside, the Prylar stops his prayers and looks toward the Bolian. He seems to have been expecting the arrival, if his manner is an indication. He gestures for the young officer to approach.
Caeli steps towards the monk after a few cursory glances about, bowing his head respectfully for a few moments and greeting him. "Peldar joi." Caeli says simply, hoping he's remembered the phrase correctly. "Is it... alright," he says quietly, glancing to the box, "if non-Bajorans look into it?"
"Peldar Joi. The Prophets choose whom to share their wisdom with, but do not judge by race or gender. If you wish to gaze upon the orb... but I should warn you, something about this place is making the Orb active, but perhaps this is not the best place to see the wisdom of the prophets. Be warned before you proceed -- but be welcome." The Prylar intones quietly.
Caeli nods. "I would choose to receive their wisdom, if they should seek to share it." The Bolian takes a few tentative steps towards the Orb, glancing to the Prylar as if to ask further permission.
"Just open the case, then face your destiny." The cleric then moves away, to give the bolian privacy.
Caeli falls to his haunches then, before the case, resting his weight on the balls of his feet before settling on his knees. One hand reaches out to separate the door on the case, the other joining it to reveal it's contents.
There is a flash of light with no heat, no sound and then...
There are klaxons sounding, Red Alert Klaxons. Between their shrill calls the compress and whoosh of phaser sounds can be heard, and interwoven with them distant bellows of some attempting to instill order in chaos, and beneath them -- cries and screams. A fading choir of the latter. Death is hunting and the herds are ripe for the culling. The air is filled with the scent of blasted circuits and fried optical cables, and the scents of scorching and plasma. Caeli is standing in a corridor filled with emergency lighting, his uniform is hanging heavier on him from what seems to be perspiration. In his hands is clutched a Phaser III compression rifle, set on the maximum setting -- the battery shows only a quarter of it's full charge remaining. Clearly he has been using the weapon.
Caeli blinks twice as his eyes adjust first to the bright light and then the dim red of the alert lighting, checking back and forth behind him and to the sides for anything, anyone... somehow he was expecting a friendlier welcome. Or any welcome at all. Face set into a mask of grim determination, he takes off at a brisk pace down the corridor towards the turbolift, and, incidentally, the yelling of what he hopes are more security officers. Or any officers with guns.
As Zip hustles along the curving of the station's main corridor he sees a young human male in an operations gold turtleneck and the rank pin of a Crewman 2nd class coming the other way. Beneath the smoke blackened splotches of his teenaged face is an expression of desperate terror. The face seems familiar to Zip those he's never seen this crewman; the holster on his belt indicates he's likely in security, the phaser rifle he's swinging as he runs would seem to confirm this theory. As he approaches the Bolian he slows a bit, and his voice quavers as he speaks. "S-sir. We've lost contaiment on the bulwark we have to get off this deck sir! Sanchez, Gyo -- their dead sir! Dead... Sorak is right behind me.." The human turns and points back and as he does a Vulcan crewman comes back peddling around the curve into view, firing his weapon the direction from which he is backing up. He depresses the trigger again and nothing comes out.. dead battery. Logically he drops the rifle and smoothy draws his Phaser II, firing a long extended burst beyond the curve of view then turns to run. There is a sound -- a grinding sound -- a sound unfamiliar to Zip's ears -- then a bluish pseudo-pod flies into view snapping whiplike about the Vulcan's neck and then effortless yanking him off his feet and out of view as it draws him back around the curve. There is another unfamiliar sound then -- a Vulcan screaming in complete emotional terror and pain.
That sound ends quickly.
Caeli levels his rifle in the direction from whence the two officers came... or tried to, anyway. "Crewman, let's get some distance between us and... that... and then you're to get the nearest Jefferies tube open. This hallway doesn't look like the best place to be. I'll lay covering fire, you take point... go!" Zip turns his body sideways to keep an eye on the corridor where the Vulcan met his untimely end and still maintain some speed, motioning for the human crewman to get moving. "What's the charge on your rifle, crewman?" he queries as they begin their retreat.
The boy doesn't need much encouragement to continue his flight, it's headlong. As he sprints he calls out, "Thirty percent charge sir -- they just kept coming -- right through the security force field -- no hesitation -- Oh God! Oh God!" At a jeffries tube juncture he drops so fast to his knees that he no doubt earned a friction burn from the carpet through his uniform pants -- this doesn't seem to faze him though. At the panel his shaking hands try to enter the security bypass code -- *DuuuuuhDUHDUH Access Denied*. "Oh God, Oh God," he prays as he tries again, *DuuuuuuuhDuhDuh Accessed Denied*. His face contorts in rage, "DAMN YOU! Open up!" He brings his phaser II up from his holster, the rifle having been set aside, and he fires into the console with a flash of orange energy. The hatch begins to open and the young man's expression changes to one of hope and relief, "It's opening Sir! Now we can --"
His words are cut off as smooth blueish mass pours out of the opened access to the Jeffries tubes and swallows his face. It pulls him back into the recess and his shoulder makes a sharp cracking sound as hits the rim of the entrance -- his booted feet kick a moment in the death rattle, still twitching as they are lost form sight.
Zip is alone now.
A breath is drawn a little deeper as Zip drops to one knee and fires off two shots down the small access hatchway before grabbing the strap of the crewman's rifle and slinging it over his shoulder, taking off down the corridor even as he does so. His free hand reaches up to tap his combadge, head turning to glance back every few meters to make sure he isn't being pursued. A passing glance to the plaque on one of the doors, to get his bearings, before he begins his communique. "Caeli to Ops... I'm on deck ten, we're dropping like flies here and we need to seal it off. They're in the Jefferies tubes." As he speaks, he crouches down beside another tube hatchway and tries to key it open via the console. Not that the Bolian has any idea whatsoever who 'they' are, aside from globular blue things. He's in soldier mode, though, and thoughts of the old 419 are shoved aside from his mind... to remain on hold until things calm down, or Zip dies.
Most probably the latter.
"Operations, Ensign Dallas here sir --" there is air of barely maintained control in the youthful female voice as she says, 'Deck 10 is a wash sir, completely compromised -- try to get to deck 18 the civilians are under atta-- What the hell is THAT? Computer activ-- AAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
There is moment of silence at the end of the scream over the combadge, then, the panel that Zip is beginning to open makes a loud thump sound, followed by a metal straining sound as it begins to fold out toward him.
A quick step backwards, and the realization that the thing on the other side of that hatchway is /not/ going to be wearing Starfleet black and grey sends Caeli moving on down the corridor, to get to Deck 18 the old fashioned way: the Turbolift. One rifle slung over his shoulder, the other held by the trigger and under the barrel, Zip heads off down the gently curving corridor.
. o O Caeli thinks "Please, please, please be working."
Outside the the Turbolift Caeli sees the area is covered in a fine silicate dust, and strewn about on the floors are bodies of deceased Starfleet Crewmen. As he presses the button there is a moment of hesitation and then the turbolift doors slide open revealing the snug space of the turbolift capsule beyond awaiting him. The only sounds beyond his breathing are the crackling of damaged and exposed circuit panels and the continuing blare of the Red Alert Klaxon.
Caeli steps into the lift, leaving the bodies behind to be remembered and duly honored at a later date. Hopefully. As the doors close, he slings his rifle over his shoulder and brings up the deceased crewman's, preferring a 30 charge over a quarter. "Deck eighteen", he says in a terse tone, leveling the rifle at the door for fear of what it may reveal.
The door slide closed and their is the faint hitch as the lift begins to respond to the order. A few seconds of travel in the lift illuminated by the red emergency lighting pass then the lift stops with an abrupt shudder nearly pitching the Bolian over with it's unexpected negative velocity. The lights flicker on and off and white dust falls from the ceiling and sprinkle the head and shoulders of the officer. The doors do not open, and the deck indicator shows the lift is trapped between Deck 16 and 17.
Then there is a vibrating thud from the roof of the lift.
Whoo boy. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is that. Caeli drops to one knee, points the business end of his Type II at the ceiling, ensures that the rifle is set to kill/maim horribly/cause general havoc, and depresses the firing stud. Whatever the hell /that/ blue thing is, it's going to regret messing with the smaller, softer blue thing crouching on the floor of the turbolift.
*Psseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeuh* the Phaser III erupts on its highest setting blowing the ceiling off in an explosive rush upward. Even as fragments of what was once the roof begin to tumble back down toward the lift drawn by the artificial gravity, the shape that has extended in the sheer of the blast re-gels and then a huge mass of silicate hunger pounces onto the Bolian. Zip feels a micro-moment of sheering acidic burning then a warm suffusing release from pain, even as his body begins to merge with the invasive lifeform and his sense of self fades he feels a final moment of his conscious of self joining into a song of countless yet one voice.
There is no more running, death has checked in and embraced what was once Zipok Caeli.
...then the flash of light fades and the doors to the case that holds the Orb of Destiny close of their own volition.
His own two hands are all that stop Caeli from falling facefirst onto the floor, shivering slightly as the memory of the sensations experienced in the pseudo-turbolift are shoved into his subconscious by whatever mechanism the sentient mind has of protecting itself. He rests there for a few moments, prostrate on the deck before the Orb, trying to compose himself enough to rise and return, at least, to his quarters. After some time he stands, looking to the Prylar, his face a distinctly lighter shade of blue. "What happened?" is all he manages to verbalize, the questions flowing freely in his mind but getting bottlenecked at his voice.
The Prylar returns as the doors swing closed, and his elderly face carries and expression of empathy -- even as he shakes his head to the negative. "Whatever you have seen is between you and the Prophets. I cannot say what they have chosen to show you, and I would not ask. You must discover the meaning on your own, young man. Walk with the Prophets, Peldar Joi."
Time: Tue May 13 20:35:46 2003
Stardate: 53212
Time: Wed May 14 00:56:25 2003
Stardate: 53212.4
Soft light.. shimmering shadows... a feeling of timelessness... This is the home of the Orb.. It's presence that permeates even the cold duranium of this cargo bay.. making it it's own place.. Here is where the Orb of Destiny waits for it's next seeker.. to tell him or her what the future could hold for them.
Niel takes a deep breath as he steps forward, finally having made his decision to seek an orb vision. For him, it seems so odd, with his past. He reaches up to his ear where the typical Bajoran earring would be, and still feels it bare as always. Having abandoned so much of what the Bajoran's hold dear seeking out this very religious event worries him some. One more deep breath, then he steps forward, looking around the cargo bay.
As seems to be the custom with the tenders of the Orb, the empty cargo bay being used as the temporary home of this most ancient and divine of Bajoran relics . A form detaches from the shadows, melting into the dim light and Towards Niel. Bent and elderly, the Bajoran in robes denoting him as a Prylar in the Bajoran Theocracy offers a faint and enigmatic smile . "Greetings, my child. Peldar Joi."
Niel doesn't seem to notice the figure in the shadows until the bajoran is nearly upon him. That kind of thing seems to happen when you're too busy worrying about everything else to not pay attention to what you're doing. He glances over the prylar. "Um, Peldar Joi."
Kresa wobbles up to Niel's side and settles his serious gaze on him. "I sense a troubled pagh in you... More troubed then I have seen in many as young as you." The Prylar turns to look at the ornate box on the pedestal, the faint light emenating from it's crystaline ports.
Niel shrugs, not really believing in the pagh's at all. "I've... suffered a lot of loss lately." He continues to glance around, not seeming really focused on any one thing.
Kresa ahhhs, seeming to understand what /isn't being said. "You have lost something close.. and are uncertain how to go on.. how things will work out.. So You come to seek your destiny, did you not? If so, be forewarned.. Light and darkness seemed more closly intermingled in this place. What you see will be your own, and you must not speak of it." He turns his gaze back on Niel. "Are you prepared, child, to face your Destiny?"
Niel nods slowly, "Yes. I'm ready." He takes a deep breath, not having any clue what the experience will be like.
Kresa nods and leads Niel towards the Case. "Then take your place before the Box that houses the Tear of The Prophets and open not only it's doors, but your pagh as well." When Neil is finally kneeling before teh small pedestal the Prylar steps back. "May the Prophets Guide you.." And with that he walks away, melting back into the shadows from whence he came.
Niel moves forward to the box. He glances upon it curiously. He closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh again. He places his hands on the doors to the orb, and opens them.
As Niel ever so carefully opens the box, light spills out and fills the room with a cool bluish glow. The Orb, like two teardrops falling away from each other from a common center, spins round and round. Every facet is like looking into a far away place for only a pico-second, glimpses of endless possibilities. Then, without warning, a breeze of blue light lances out and around him, encompassing Niel. The bay is replaced by his bookstore. The familiarity of this place, it's memories invoked, bring a sense of calm to him. His books.. His beloved books.. More of them then he remembered.. Is the shop bigger then before?
Niel looks around the shop, surprised at the size. He doesn't remember this until he realizes what is going on. He smiles, slightly surprised at things. He starts to wander around the shop, taking in those things that seem to be different, trying to figure out exactly where the shop might be.
There is a sound to Niel's side and he turns to face a small girl, maybe two or three years old, kneeling on the floor and drawing with crayons. Her wavy dark hair cascades around her cherubic face as she gleefully makes obscure patterns and colour combinations in interesting proximations of abstract two dimensional representations of humanoids. The Girl looks up, transfixing Niel with her lovely eyes. She smiles and small, half hidden ridges on her nose wrinkle in delight. She holds up the picture.. "Look, Daddy... It's a Ta.. Ta.. A Targ!" She looks so much like her mother... Oh so much. Outside the Shop the regular sounds of s419's Mall can be heard..
Niel smiles to her, just staring at those eyes. "That's lovely honey..." He smiles warmly, very happy to see that he's gotten through to at least this point already. "We should hang it up for everybody to see your beautiful picture."
Kresa smiles and stands, the picture still cltched in her chubby little hands. "Really? You think maybe mommy will see it? One day?" Her eyes twinkle with hope, glistening happily.
Little Nelle smiles and stands, the picture still clutched in her chubby little hands. "Really? You think maybe mommy will see it? One day?" Her eyes twinkle with hope, glistening happily.
Niel lets out a short sigh before he smiles and moves down to kneal in front of Nelle. He places his arms on her shoulders smiling to her. "You know honey, mommy is already seeing it, because I know she is watching you right now. She's always watching over you, protecting you, protecting us."
The perfect calm and serenity of his bookstore.. the tenderness of this moment.. is /SHATTERED/ in an instant. Lights flicker, then blow out in showers of sparks, plunging the room into almost total darkness, except for shafts of light coming through the windows from emergancy lighting in the mall. Klaxxons can be heard outside in the promenade, almost drowning out the terrible wails of screams. He can feel young Nelle clutching to his leg, issuing a whimper of terror.
Having taken care of Nelle for so long, her really being his daughter, Niel knows just how to respond. Deep inside of him, he is truly scared; he knows something is wrong. But for him, he doesn't panic, he looks out and about for a second, and puts his arms around Nelle tightly, protecting her, shielding her from the bad stuff the best he can, the way only a father can.
Dark, near humanoid shadows appear in the smoke hazed windows, cutting angulart swathes in the spill of red emergancy light. They are still, unmoving, like statues with no discernable features. Then without warning the transparent aluminum implodes, the crystaline metal flying like hail to the floor. And one, by one, by one the Shadoes lumber into the store. Great crystaline monsters with once human faces, like masks formed in a parady of horror, all wearing the torn remnants of starfleet uniforms. Most of the face are unfamilliar to Niel, even if they hadn't been perverted by growths of ragged, blue glowing crystal. But some bear more familiar refelctions of who they were. Captain Balin... Alexi... Poole.. Isole... a half dozen others... But these twisted visages of people he know, while shocking, aren't as heart stopping as the face of the final creature that steps foreward, between Niel and the rest of this unholy horde... Loni Haven.. His half-sister.. Her once beatiful face now seemingly chisled from crystal.. her eyes dead as burned out coals.
Niel looks to Loni, and doesn't seem to be able to believe it. He frowns and looks down to the terrified Nelle. He creeps back away from the creatures, holding Nelle tightly within his arms. He whispers to her, "Remember that Mommy loves you. If there is anything you must remember, we love you so much Nelle."
The Loni-Creature is unmoved by this show of love between the step-father and the child.. She walks foreward, crystaline protrusions growing from his arms, her shoulders.. Like Armour of some demonic diamond monster... She reaches out, grabbing Niel and Nelle in a hand each, and tunrs them around to present them to the other creatures.. One by one they step aside.. One by one they step back to form an empty ailse between their two forming coumns.. and at the end stands one final shadow.. It's face unseen.... it starts walking towards the captives.. It stops just infront of them, leaning foreward... Red light is cast on the blue crystal face to reveal the impossible... a cruel twist of fate.. It reaches out and strokes both Nelle's and Niel's cheeks with cold crystal hands.. "Yeessssss..." the moster once known as Rebecca Renee Bailey hisses... "Mommy lovessssss you... Mommy lovessssss both of you.."
Niel can't seem to believe what he is seeing before his eyes. He shakes his head, and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Niel's body freezes, and he looks to Nelle, to gaze at her reaction.
. o O Niel thinks "It can't be... no, not Rebecca."
Bailey's Crystaline ghost plants a disturbingly gentle kiss on her daughter's forehead... blue tendils grow outward slowly, like horfrost on a cold winter's window... blossoming.. She then parts from the young girl, whom is breathing in ragged sobs, and brings her lips to a hairsbredth from Niel's.. "Now we can be together.. One big.. happily.. family..." And, in one fell swoop, eternity is blotted out in a single, cold, kiss that threatens to steal Niel's very souls.. he is launched into darkness.. only to find himself on his back in front of the Orb's box... He doesn't remember closing it.. Nor does he remember the prylar entering and doing so... He is alone.. Alone in the dim recesses of the station.. not a sound but his own heartbeat. The Vision is over.
Niel inhales a deep breath, like he's never breathed before... but the breath itself is delayed... as if Niel was delayed by staying with the kiss. Upon opening his eyes and looking around realizing, Niel turns over, trying to get up. He does manage to, but it takes a moment for him to get properly oriented. He then runs out, knowing the one thing he has to do now: Go see Nelle.
Time: Wed May 14 23:24:31 2003
Stardate: 53214.6
The Bay is dim and, seemingly, unimhabited at this time. No gawkers or faithful come to see the Orb at this particular moment. The Orb's vessel-box sits on a bedestal in one corner, earth toned drapes behind it and a banner of Bajoran script spilling almost to the floor proclaiming some religious meaning that escapes anyone but those who can read the language. The Rest of the bay is draped in shadow, untouched by the faint light emenating from the vessel-box's crystal ports.
Va'tol draws closer to the Orb's resting place, walking through the shadows of the Bay. He comes to a halt a few feet from the vessel-box, turning to look at his surroundings for any sign of life.
A form detaches from the shadows, melting into the dim light and Towards Va'tol. Bent and elderly, the Bajoran in robes denoting him as a Prylar in the Bajoran Theocracy offers a faint and enigmatic smile . "Greetings, my child and Peldar Joi. I am Prylar Kresa."
"Peldar Joi..", he replies, casting a glance upon the old priest. "Greetings, Prylar Kresa. I am Va'tol.." he adds, lacking any sign of emotions in his tone.
Kresa wobbles up to Va'tol's side and settles his curious gaze on him. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Va'tol." he says most honestly. "I never beleived I would live to see the day when a Vulcan wished to consult an orb.. particularly the Orb of Destiny..." The aged prylar regards Va'Tol curiously, "I have heard that Vulcans do not embrace the concept of destiny because the idea of predetermination is 'illogical'."
"You are correct, Prylar. The concept of destiny is linked to the fact that our future is somehow 'written' by other entities. In the Bajoran case, the Prophets. The idea is against Vulcan philosophy, and considering it was never scientifically proven, we consider it illogical." he says. "I am merely here in a scientific experiment..and I must admit that after reading about the Orb on the Starfleet database I became rather curious to see it's effects, specially on a less emotional mind" he states,
ahhhs and smiles. "Ahhh, yes.. The Vaunted Vulcan logic over emotion." He chuckles and turns to look at the ornate box on the pedestal, the faint light emenating from it's crystaline ports. "That may be what your mind tells you, child, but I know that you have come also for your heart. For as much as you pretend to disbeleive in destiny, it exists... Though not in any way you may realize. In any event, be forewarned.. What you see will be your own, and you must not speak of it." He turns his gaze back on Va'tol. "Are you prepared, child, to face your Destiny?"
Kresa motions to the place in front of the pedastel where Va'tol can kneel and open the box.. if he so chooses.
Va'tol nods finally. "Yes, I am.", he says, still rather skeptic, but willing to take the challenge. Besides, being the first Vulcan to ever consult an Orb is quite a honor - even though he'll never be able to share the experience. Va'tol approaches, lowering his arms and kneeling down in front of the box, reaching out to open it..
As Va'tol ever so carefully opens the box, light spills out and fills the room with a cool bluish glow. The Orb, like two teardrops falling away from each other from a common center, spins round and round. Every facet is like looking into a far away place for only a pico-second, glimpses of endless possibilities. Then, without warning, a breeze of blue light lances out and around him, encompassing Va'tol. The cool humidity of the station is gone, replaced with a familiar heat and dryness. And the gravity seems.. refreshing.. Higher then anything near human norms. Though it is still relatively dark, Va'tol can make out that he really is no longer on the station but in some underground cave or warren. There are flickering lamps of fire on the walls, casting their dancing shadows on the sandstone and granite. He must be on Vulcan.. it /feels/ like Vulcan.. Strangly, an overcoming sense of.. of happiness washes over Va'tol ... Never before has he felt such free emotion within himself.. as if he had absolutely no control over it.. he years of training seemingly unable to control the ebb and flow... No control....
Va'tol blinks as the light engulfs his form, and then the surprise as he feels the familiar enviroment of his homeworld. The Vulcan stands, his eyes widening in awe at the emotion slipping out of his logic mind. Happiness. He can recognize it as an emotion, and despite his effort to keep it under control, it proves to be too strong for him to handle. It doesn't take long until he stops resisting, allowing himself to feel true hapiness, for the first time..
As quickly as it came upon him, Va'Tol's happiness fades, replaces with that steely Vulcan stoisism.. though it feels much less then he remembered. As the emotion passes his senses become more alert... The cave seems to be a singular room, hewn by hand tools... It is sparse, the only furnature in it seeming to be broken chairs and candleholders strewn across the floor. There is a single archway leading out.. and from that archway two voices can be heard.. "We are honoured you could make it on so quick of notice, Captain." a deep woman's voice says. The reply is a male's voice, slightly inflected with a hispanic accent. "It is my hounour, ma'am," the unknown as of yet but somehow familiar male says. "How /is/ he?" There are a few moments of silence before the also familiar female's voice answers this question. "I cannot truly say, Captain.. Bendai's syndrome , though well documented, still confuses us.. All I know is that today he seems lucid.. So while he remains so, let me go in and present you."
Va'tol closes his eyes as the emotion subsides, releasing his breath. Relieved by the return of his inner peace, Va'tol starts studying the chamber he's currently in, and then focuses on the voices coming from outside. Both of the voices sound strangely familiar, specially the man's. A Captain? Who are they? What is this place? The mention of Bendai's syndrome brings another momentary emotion: Fear. Not as stunning as the last, but 'alien' nonetheless.
Through the archway a tall woman in whitish beige robes steps. Her face is hidden but her movements mark her as a vulcan as they are calculated, wasting no effort. She steps through the strewn debris on the floor, carefully, until she is only a few feet away. "I am sorry if I have disturbed you," she says, pulling the hood back and revealing her face.. It is a beautiful face.. one that fills Va'tol with a another sense of happiness so profound that it threatens to pull him under and drown him. Tenala, his betrothed, regards him curiously. She looks older.. Older then she should be. Her raven's black hair has a few grey hilights... "My Husband.. are you well enough to see a visitor?"
"Tenala..", he whispers, studying the woman's features. "You look..different.." he then turns to look down at his hands and clothes. "..all of this.." The Vulcan then shifts his attention back to his mate, quirking a weak, barely perceptible smile. "...No, you are not disturbing me..Tenala, I.." he pauses, nodding slightly at her last question. "Yes.."
Tenala regards her husband again, this time that faint tinge of concern in her eyes.. so faint that it could only be noticed by another vulcan. "Then I will bring him to see you, my husband.." And she does.. She leads a short hispanic man with salt and pepper hair and a ridiculous handlebar mustache. He must be about 75 years old. He wears a Starfleet uniform.. or at least a strange variation of one. It is a one peice suit, completely grey, with a loose and opened jacket over it. The right half is black, the other Command-Red. The human smiles nervously at Va'tol. "It is good to see you again." Captian Carlos Mendoza says, "Though I wish it were under happier circumstances.
Va'tol recognizes the second figure, glancing at the strange Starfleet uniform he's wearing. "Captain..Carlos..Carlos?" The Vulcan shakes his head in disbelief. "No, this can't be true.." He closes his eyes, lowering his head. "The Prophets..My mind. Yes, of course..It is the only logical explanation..", he mutters to himself.
Tenala and Carlos look at each other. Carlos seems worried and scared, but Tenala urges him to continue. "Va'tol.. I did what you asked... I found your daughter." He closes his eyes and clenches his fists.. Tenala also seems even more stiff. "I am sorry Va'tol.. I am so sorry."
"My daughter?" Va'tol frowns, looking between Tenala and Carlos. Slowly his memory begins to return. Yes, the Orb, his experience. So, is this is? Is this part of his 'Destiny'? Va'tol pauses, seeming deep in his own thoughts for a few moments. "What happened..to my daughter?" he inquiries, sounding like the same old logical Vulcan of before.
Carlos's jaw clenches. "We found her and her ship, the USS Vega, drifting about a thousand kilometers inside the Dulcais Dead Zone... It was gutted, Va'tol. They got trapped in the damages subspace stratum that encompasses that whole sector.. one of the very reasons it is off limits today... Somehow they got lured into the Dead Zone and something.. something attacked them."
"Dulcais..dead zone?" Va'tol turns around, taking a few steps away from Carlos, thinking to himself. "What do you mean by *something*?" he stops, casting a glance over his shoulder at the Captain, waiting for his reply.
Carlos can't finish.. The old man is wiping tears from his eyes.. Tears that seem infectuous as Va'tol can feel his own eyes begin to water.. He can not only feel his old friends dispair, but some of his own growing within him. It is Tenala who is still strong enough to speak, though her voice seems oddly haggard for a Vulcan. "My Husband.. Tenalka, our daughter, is dead." She lowers her eyes. "She died because you and your old crewmates weren't able to destroy the enemy with your ultimate sacrifice...." He slooks up now. "Millions died, My Husband.. For the good of the many.. but apparently it wasn't good enough."
Va'tol finds himself unable to control yet another emotion. They feel so different from each other, but are equally strong in intensity, something that his intense meditation never prepared him for. The Vulcan turns to face Carlos and Tenala once more. "My old friend..I..don't understand. Who is this enemy?...and do you mean my crewmates from S-419?" he asks, calmly, in an attempt to take all in.
Carlos takes his time to find the words.. though it is as if he wasn't even paying attention. He just starts to ramble. "Not that we blame you or your crewmates for what you did.." he says, haltingly, choking on a few of the words.. "You had to do it, right? If you hadn't of detonated that anomaly... The Rest of the galaxy would have been in /their/ thrall.." Slowly, Carlos seems to get more agitated... More angry.. "Your crew played /God/, Va'tol... They played /GOD/.. They destroyed an entire sector of space.. made it so warp would no longer funtion there.. They took a hunk out of the federation, the romulan and klingon empires...." He is now shaking, visibly.. "You people were supposed to have /saved/ us.. SAVED US... Millions DIED, VA'TOL.. MILLIONS.. WE PAID FOR THAT SAFETY.... BUt NOW MY GOD-DAUGHTER IS DEAD! AND YOU ARE TOO SENILE To EVEN REMEMBER! IS THAT AN EXCUSE? DAMN YOU VA'TOl.. DAMN YOOOOOOOU.." And with that, the Human lunges at Va'tol, pushing Tenala aside in his fury.
"Carlos, calm down..I still can--" Before he can say another word, the Captain strikes, knocking the 'old' Vulcan backwards, pressing him against the wall. "Carlos!" The Vulcan grits his teeth, trying to shove the human off with his arms. "Stop i
"Carlos, calm down..I still can--" Before he can say another word, the Captain strikes, knocking the 'old' Vulcan backwards, pressing him against the wall. "Carlos!" The Vulcan grits his teeth, trying to shove the human off with his arms. "Stop it!"
Waves of emotion roll of the man at the physical contact. Blind anger, great sorrow.. and a thousand feelings in between.. It washes over Va'tol like a tide... Tenala is unconcious, her head having it the rock wall heard and green blood is pooling beneath her. More anguish grows in Va'tol, being gfed like pure oxygen to a fire.. his mind and sould swelling, threatening to burst. Carlos pummels him over and over, his hysteric strength actually matching the vulcan's. And finally he lifts a large round stone and raises it above his head, his eyes like fire. "I hope you burn in hell." he whispers, cutting through Va'tol like the final stroke.. except it isn't.. The dropping of the rock is... With all of Carlo's spead, the stone strikes downwards and everything turns black... and there is nothing.. no feeling.. nothing... just void.
Va'tol struggles, adrenaline pumping stronger. The anger, the sorrow, not only from Carlos, but the sight of Telana, on the floor, bleeding. That's not what he wanted. This is not supposed to happened. "NO!" The Vulcan screams, but the cry goes silent as the rock impacts. If it weren't for that, Va'tol would've probably killed his friend right there. Take the logic and balance off a Vulcan, and you'll have a very mad Romulan to deal with. Well, not like it matters. It's all over now.
The Bay is /still/ and /still/ all but inhabited at this time.. Except for Prylar Kresa. He stands beside the vessel-box that holds the orb... And it is now closed.. though he isn't close enough to have done that himself and Va'tol has no memory of closing it either. "The funny thing about not beleiving in destiny because it is 'written'," he says, looking at the orb with fondness, "is that Destiny is always written by 'aliens'.. but most of the time it is written by our own deeds." And with that, the old Prylar bows and melts back into the shadows.
The Bay is /still/ and /still/ all but inhabited at this time.. Except for Prylar Kresa. He stands beside the vessel-box that holds the orb... And it is now closed.. though he isn't close enough to have done that himself and Va'tol has no memory of closing it either. "The funny thing about not beleiving in destiny because it is 'written'," he says, looking at the orb with fondness, "is that Destiny is /NOT/ always written by 'aliens'.. but most of the time it is written by our own deeds." And with that, the old Prylar bows and melts back into the shadows.
Va'tol wakes up from the nightmare, gazing at the standing Bajoran and then the closed box. He gets back to his feet, sweat dripping from his eyebrows. "Prylar..?" As the holy man goes away, the Vulcan merely nod. His mind is not exactly clear enough to start a discussion. Perhaps later. "..Thank you..", he says last, turning around and walking away, clasping his hands behind his back..
