Terrible Discovery

 Episode Name:  Terrible Discovery

   Written By:  Eidolon

         Cast:  Eidolon, Jatila and Strell.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Eidolon

     Aired On:  Wed Mar 23 03:31:23 2005

     Stardate:  54842.4

Time: Mon Mar 21 02:34:31 2005

Stardate: 54837.5

Fire and destruction have swept through the Gallery, destroying several of the pieces contained within. The lights flicker dimly, with an exposed panel shooting sparks once in a while. The kerosh statue was reduced to slag, and the mobile of the Firefalls burnt away, leaving only the mechanics behind. It's dark and dreary, having been left untouched by the already stressed and overworked engineering crews.

It's into this scene of destruction that Jatila arrives, having not heard from the Vulcan that normally calls this space home since before the invasion. His son arrived at the Ambassador's doorstep, but still, more than a day later, no Strell.

And it's with a trembling step that Jat does enter the Gallery. Dread enters her eyes, already ruling her mind, as she surveys the destruction, moving carefully through the carnage. "Ash-" She has to clear her throat. "Ashau?"

<CONTEST> Jatila contests her Search skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Fails!

. o O Jatila thinks, "Oh Elements. Please, please, just let him be uncoscious. Let him be safe. Did Ghorev take my suggestion? Maybe he's someplace else."

. o O Jatila is terrified, plain and simple.

Her boots crunch over shattered plastisteel and the remains of framed paintings, now little more than the debris of a shattered life that has been, apparently, left behind. A handprint in green -- possibly dried Vulcanoid blood -- on the wall near the back room announces that the violence was not just limited to things, but to people too.

Sparks shoot again, creating an electrical crackle, and then the silence returns.

<CONTEST> Jatila contests her Search skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Fails!

. o O Krylow flees relief. Its one thing to hear that a teammate is alive, its another to see her there and the sight of Green fills him with relief. For a moment the other feelings are drowned out before they creep back in.

Jatila pauses, and lifts a hand to press over the handprint on the wall. She stifles a tremor in her fingers, and moves on, dangerously close to tears. She doesn't even notice the sparks, distracted and focused on the subject of her search.

. o O Jatila sends out a curl of fearful inquiry, and waits... And her fear rises exponentially when she doesn't get a response.

As she moves deeper into the Gallery, her foot lands on a piece of debris that chirps in protest. A scrap of fabric, black in color, peeks out from under her toes -- but the chirp came from the Starfleet-style compin attached to it. Of course, the compins were replicated, and everyone was supposed to wear one. Strell wouldn't buck authority like that; it's just not in him.

Yet, the evidence is there on the ground, and still, no Vulcan.

Jatila glances down, and kneels carefully on one knee, to reach for the pin. She stares at it for a moment, before curling her fingers around the device and rising again. "Ashau! Answer me!" It's half-demand, half-entreaty.

. o O Krylow thinks, "She would have seen Hiroshi die."

Silence. Nothing but horrible silence.

Nearby rests the remains of a lirpa -- the staff portion of the weapon snapped in two, with the club having been used against something that would leave massive dents in it, and the blade's smooth edges reduced to a jagged piece of twisted metal. More blood on the wall as well, still green.

Jatila starts to tremble, staring at the weapon. "No," she says softly in Vulcan. "Oh no..." Despite, or perhaps because of, her rising fear, she moves more quickly. Her hand clenches so hard around the compin that her own palm is pricked with beads of emerald blood.

GAME: Jatila spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Jatila contests her Search skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!

. o O Krylow is slowly getting to the point of overload. Too much pain, too much happiness, too much stress, too much confusion. He's on the verge of going numb.

Even further back, the damage becomes more severe.

Phaser scoring of the metal, leaving jagged holes punched in the bulkhead.

A fine scattering of crystaline dust.

Another bloody handprint, this one smeared across the wall.

Each sticks out in terrible relief, as if designed by the master of this charnel house to inflict the worst possible terror upon the poor Romulan woman. Finally, she reaches the back of the Gallery, and still, no Vulcan. It's at this moment, when all hope seems to be lost, that her eyes settle on a crack in the bulkhead -- one that becomes a line, and then a pair of lines, and then they connect themselves together to form the entrance to a storage compartment, or perhaps a Jeffries Tube. One that has a pair of bloody smears on it, as if someone was clawing at it in an attempt to open it.

. o O Nabrun builds an image of Alek holding Tay, comforting her, while Barana slips back next door. A definite sense of Tay needing Alek right now, and Alek getting comforted as soon as Barana's finished with Rob. Oddly, none of Barana's emotions are there.

. o O McTiernan thinks, "'cause I'd really hate to have to strangle King if he doesn't do his job this time around!"

Jatila is, at this point, shaking so violently it's amazing she notes the crack at all. She freezes, staring at it. And a very specific fear arises in her mind. "Oh no. Oh please don't be..." She doesn't want to know. She has to know. Jat steps closer, and reaches out to see if she can open whatever it is.

. o O Harris is vaguely amused by McTiernan, but that just is an overlay of a crushing sense of loss and sadness. Anger, too. That all simmers beneath a sea of pain which leaves him rather hazy.

It's a standard panel, really -- all that's required to open it is pressing gently at both sides, near the top, and voila, open. Of course, that means that what's inside can easily be seen...

A pasty, pale Vulcan tumbles out of the crawlspace which was -far- too small for him to cram himself into without breaking or dislocating several of his limbs. As a result, he resembles a large mass of goo when he falls out, covered in green blood, with even more having pooled on the floor of the cabinet beneath him.

Jatila stares in wide-eyed horror and disbelief. Then her knees buckle, driving her to the floor, and she grabs for the blood-covered form. And she screams in heart-wrenching agony. "Strell! Strellllllllllllllllllllllll! Alive! Be alive! Ashau, please..." But with that much blood around...

. o O Krylow is torn as another set of emotions start to wash over him, feelings of guilt and frustration.

. o O Jatila frenzyagonyfeardenialpainheartbreakdenialdenialdenial...

Strell is far colder than she's ever felt and still, so very still. It's almost painfully obvious that he's gone.

Ten seconds after falling out of the cabinet, though, he takes a breath. A very small one. Then, almost as a whisper, the memory comes back...

"The Path of Shan," Strell tells Jat as they work together in the holodeck, practicing with lirpas. "The first level of achievement in its arts is called shantip -- quite literally, 'healing trance'. If injured, those skilled in shantip can use their mind to control their body and force it to heal. It is taught at VIDA, and would be very beneficial for you to learn, should you decide to continue in your military service."

Another breath. Strell still lives.

Jatila nearly chokes on a sob as she tries to stifle it, holding him close. She holds her own breath, lifting her head in disbelief from his chest. "Ashau?" she whispers. "Ashau!" The fingers of her free hand frantically seek the points he always touched on her face.

. o O Jatila surges with hope. Golden, vast, overwhelming.

Strell's chest rises and falls once more. Beyond that, he makes no response. For all intents and purposes, he's Not Here.

Jatila sends a frantic look toward the door, then down to the compin in her hand. How do they...? Oh yeah. She presses the thing, praying for an answer. "Infirmary," she chants, a few times. She can't leave his side. Carrying him is... unlikely. "Come on..."

The communicator just chirps at her again, but does nothing more. The Vulcan remains cold and still, taking a breath every so often.

Jatila glares at the thing. "Federation /dung/." Reluctantly, but with haste fueled by the fear of losing him again, she rises to seek out the desk- if it still exists- and the comm unit there to repeat her urgent call.

The desk does exist, and although the computer terminal has been crushed beyond all hope of repair, the com terminal looks like it still works.

It darn well better work, or it's going to get crushed... But still Jat's startled when a voice answers her frantic call to the infirmary. After a second, she pours out the information of her discovery so fast her words are probably barely understandable. It's probably just as well they can't see her wild gestures as well.

And a few moments after that, it becomes clear that the medical types heard her call for help. An EMT team shows up and hustles the Vulcan onto the bed, each expressing amazement that he's still alive. After a minute or so of work, they retreat once again with their patient.

The Gallery fades to silence once again.

Only the fact of Strell's terrible injuries keeps Jat from clinging to his hand. As it is, she insists on staying barely out of their way as she moves hastily with the bed, murmuring in Vulcan frantic thanks to the Elements, each and every one of them, and "Beloved". Over and over, in her tearful joy that Strell, son of Sanek, lives.

Time: Mon Mar 21 05:19:00 2005

Stardate: 54837.7