An Imperfect Impression

 Episode Name:  An Imperfect Impression

   Written By:  Daedalus

         Cast:  Daedalus, Dane, Jatila, K'net-mauri, Kran'dok, Strell and Sutara.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Daedalus

     Aired On:  Sun Jul 17 10:39:21 2005

     Stardate:  55121.4

Time: Fri Jul 15 20:42:14 2005

Stardate: 55117.6

K'net-mauri arrives somewhat late, which is a little unusual for him. He looks around the little black grid of a room and smiles rather wryly at those assembeled, "Jolan'tru," he says. He's got an isolinear chip in his right hand, or rather, on his right hand -- he's rolling it over his knuckles like people often do with coins.

Strell offers a nod to K'net-mauri as he arrives. "Ambassador," he greets, voice soft -- and staying on the opposite side of Jatila from Kran'dok.

Jatila, leaning back against a wall of the suite, gives her superior a nod as well as a curious look. "Jolan'tru, sir." She doesn't seem to mind playing shield.

. o O Strell thinks, "I calculate a 93.7 percent chance that Uhlan Brutae will, as usual, disapprove of my presence."

Kran'dok stands to the side of the door, looking a bit confused and possibly nervous. He wears his uniform, for lack of something more suitable. The Romulan has also taken steps to ensure that he is as far away from the Vulcan as possible. "Jolan'tru sir," he says with a polite nod before looking back to Mir. "I brought Lieutenant JG Dane with me this evening. She happened to be available," the Uhlan says flatly.

The little Trill stands mostly out of the way, she's playing with one of the buttons on her jacket and appears to be nervous if anyone can read her expression that is. Her eyes glance from one to the other of the others in the holodeck. She smiles over at Jatila and Strell, before her eyes move from them to Kran'dok. When She hears KM's greeting behind her, Mirantha turns around and bows at the older Romulan, muttering his Jolan'tru back.

K'net-mauri lifts a brow at Kran'dok. "Indeed," he says. "I saw that. Good evening, Lieutenant." He continues to roll the chip over his knuckles. "Are you prepared for this?"

Dane looks at the Ambassador and nods her head, then shakes it. "I'm not sure to be honest. " She says quietly still nervous and unsure of her welcome here. "But I'm sure, it will be a learning experiance for all. " She says with a pretty shrug of her narrow shoulder.

. o O Dane is rather nervous, and unsure of what's going on here.

Kran'dok grins back at the older Romulan then tilts his head towards the woman and her words. "Indeed. I am not sure what to be ready for, but I anxiously await the oprotunity to prove my readyness."

Jatila's own eyebrows lift. "Prepared for what, sir?" Her head tilts slightly. "You're having fun with this," she accuses with a grin.

Strell just raises an eyebrow at the question.

K'net-mauri grins at Jatila, amused. "This," he says, indicating the chip, "Is supposedly the last work of the recently deceased Relath Ve'tar, notoriously mad and corrupt like the rest of his mad and corrupt family."

Jatila blinks, straightening from her lean. "How did you get that?" she wonders softly.

Kran'dok's grin becomes more impish. "Now this should truely be fun." He looks at the chip with a new anticipation in his eyes.

A look of confusion crosses the Trill's features at the ambassadors words and she looks up at the tall Romulan, lowering her voice a little. "Who's that Kran'dok, I have not come across the name in my study of Romulan culture. "

"Hence the description as 'subversive entertainment?" Strell asks after a moment, brow remaining arched.

. o O Strell is curious.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his History/Romulan+A vs Moderate and Succeeds.

"Oh, it was sent to me," K'net-mauri tells Jatila. A nod to Strell. "Indeed. It is supposed to contain a secret. I'll trust you to keep it, if we should discover it. In the unlikely event that it exists." He sounds amused.

Jatila stares at her superior for a long moment, then her gaze drops to consider the ground. As if it's nothing at all unusual to view a work by a Ve'tar. "... Yes, sir."

Strell folds his hands behind his back and nods once, although his eyes flick to Jatila for a moment. "Of course."

. o O Jatila struggles. "Subversive bunch... Oh, what Fatehr would give to learn of this!... But I cannot betray the Ambassador's trust..."

GAME: Jatila contests her History/Romulan vs Moderate and Succeeds.

Kran'dok chuckles slightly. "Well this is indeed an interesting choice of entertainment," he says almost a little too politely. The Uhlan turns to speak with Mir. "While not a good representation of our rich artistic tradition, perhaps it will be interesting to see just what our people can do wrong. You sould see the bad with the good I suppose," he says dryly.

K'net-mauri laughs. "Something like that." He moves to the arch and slides the chip into the appropriate slot.

Jatila looks sideways, toward Strell, her gaze fixing on him for a long moment. She nods, finally, and looks toward K'net-mauri, taking a deep, okay-no-problem breath.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "A very interesting choice of entertainment. I always knew the Ambassador was a little more liberal than most, but I had no idea he was this far out there."

Dane oh's softly and nods her head. "There is good and bad in every culture. " she mutters. "I can ignore the bad if the good out weights it. " She says nodding her thanks to the Uhlan for him explaining it to her.

K'net-mauri gives Jatila a look. "Are you all right?"

. o O Kran'dok feels intrigued and a little upset.

Jatila's eyebrows lift. "Perfectly fine. Just great. Couldn't be better."

. o O Jatila thinks, "And if my father ever finds out, you get to adopt me, because he will <untranslatable obscenity> disown me."

"Exaggeration, of course, being one of her stronger skills," Strell remarks blandly.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "There will be much going on tonight. I can not afford for the Ambassador to have a bad impression of Mir. The last thing I can do is make a further enemy of the Ambassador's /friend/ Strell. I will have to be nice."

GAME: Kran'dok spends a courage point.

K'net-mauri laughs. "I see." He taps the console to start the program.

Kran'dok takes a deep breath and looks around at the assembled group then back to the Trill. "Keep your wits about you. This promises to be a challenging and confusing experience." The look in his eyes indicates that he hardly believes he has to worry about her.

And immediately, the program kicks in. Except maybe it doesn't. No. It does. But the walls don't change. There is, however, suddenly an extra person in the room. A Romulan man, tall and hawkish and plain of features, in the middle-age anywhere from his late 60s to his mid 80s, and dressed all in white. As he speaks, the brittleness of his voice makes it clear that he is likely at the younger end of that age range, but sickly enough to appear more worn and weathered. "Greetings to you, patrons. Greetings to you. Depending on whether you believe the tale that I am sure has already arisen around me, and around this work, I am Relath, last Master of the line of the Ve'tars. If you are seeing this, it is most likely that I am dead, and that the line of the Ve'tars is likewise dead. And so, and so, and so...." A wan smile, a cough into a handkerchief that materializes in his hand. "Forgive me. I am an ill man, roused from my deathbed to record this introduction, before it is too late. I cannot promise that I am the only hologram you will encounter tonight that will actually see and interact with you, but I can tell you that I am the only one programmed to be aware that I *am* a hologram. Let that be a simple theme for the evening -- awareness of the self, freedom from delusions of the self, from the lies we tell ourselves about ourselves, is what I have ever sought, and that is why the Ve'tar line is now, clearly, dead." He pauses there, for the moment, as if letting that sink in. Might he answer questions? Who knows. Most of these holograms, no matter how self-aware, have a baseline agenda, but it's possible that he might work answers into his pre-programmed riff.

Dane nods her head slowly but her eyes are on Jatila. "Are you sure your okay?" she ask, moving towards the Romulan woman, her doctor instint snapping into place. She lowers her voice so Kran'dok and the other's can not here. "Have you eatten recently, taken your vitiems?" She asks.

. o O Dane thinks, "I hope she's ok, and not straining herself."

K'net-mauri turns to look at the holographic figure, and listen to its speech.

Jatila nods once, not even realizing she's doing so, to Dane's question. Her attention is drawn to the hologrammatic man, listening carefully. "What does awareness of the self have to do with the extinction of your line, Master Relath?"

Strell considers Relath in silence, his gaze sweeping to Jatila as she asks her question, then back to the hologram.

Dane turns around slowly to take in the hologram, she raises an eyebrow and seems to just stare. What's going through her mind is anyone guess but the expressions on her face show surprised and a little weariness.

Kran'dok scoffs slightly at the speech. He carefully searches the man with his eyes, but says nothing.

The Relath hologram continues. "As Admiral Re'kan of the Ve'tar, one of theFamily's most famous military sons, once famously said, too verbosely to make it the family motto, but eloquently enough to serve in the stead of one, 'We are each of us an imperfect impression of our fathers before us, and an incomplete shadow of the sons who will come after us.'" A cough. "As I am the last in the line of those who have dwelled on the lands of the Ve'tar and been given the honorific of Master, I am no shadow now, but I am still imperfect, and in that sense, this is as true for me as for any of the Ve'tar. I am an imperfect impression of the man who sired me, his inferior in every way, and so the work I leave behind is of a quality I feel perversely appropriate, the deliberately incomplete ramblings of a fevered mind on its deathbed. In fact, let that be a lesson to you, and a rule of the game: everything which I tell you is true, but it might be incomplete. It sums up my career, my lifespan as an artiste in the similarly incomplete shadow of the Masters of the Family Ve'tar who came before me, quite adequately."

K'net-mauri chuckles at that. He's entertained, appearantly.

. o O Jatila thinks, "He's a freaking loon."

GAME: Jatila contests her Medical Sciences vs Routine and Succeeds.

GAME: Strell contests his Medical Sciences+D vs Routine and Succeeds.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Medical Sciences/Psychology vs Routine and Succeeds.

GAME: Dane contests her Medical Sciences+D vs Routine and Succeeds.

Relath continues: "And yet I have no doubt that the grandiose reputation of the Family Ve'tar, which I have enjoyed as a false face, a mixed blessing both convenience and inconvenience, all my life, will cause this to be hailed by the general masses of Rom'laas as a triumph, a masterpiece, a capstone to the Dynasty of Ve'tar. At which point, some pompous Federation meritocrats who wish to be considered erudite will make some Ferengi data pirate very rich indeed." A smile. "And yet somehow, this will still not endear my despised name to our guardians of orthodoxy. Thus do I strike at all the enemies of the Ve'tar, at home and across the Neutral Zone, with my dying breath."

K'net-mauri lifts a brow, still smiling his wry smile.

Strell lifts a brow as he listens, unmoved by Relath's apparent plight. "Fascinating."

Dane looks a little confused again and edges towards the Uhlan to perhaps seek some answers and to ask questions. She regards the hologram a little closely and can't help but snort. She says nothing though.

One corner of Jatila's mouth lifts in a wry expression, not quite a smile.

Kran'dok sighs slightly. "Self-absorbed and indulgent to the very end," he comments dryly. "Enemies, huh." There is a momentary scowl on his face, but he quickly wipes it clean.

. o O Jatila thinks, "Oooh. I am simply struck dumb with fear. Truly."

K'net-mauri glances at Kran'dok, half-grinning.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "If by enemies he means true Romulans. His own people and audience."

. o O Jatila thinks, "Not."

"He attempts to manipulate the emotions of his audience," Strell remarks, voice still bland. "It is a charade."

The hologram concludes: "If there is a mystery to my lineage, it is contained here. And if you would solve it, you must remember that we *are* all of us imperfect impressions of our fathers and their fathers before them. You must remember to see things as my father did, and know that this is where I began." A fit of coughing. A wiping of mouth. "Only then can you complete this, my little morality play, and only then will night give way to day, and bring forth into the light that which no Ve'tar has ever dared so much as dream of bringing forth in four hundred years. A belated Jolan'tru to you. Walk ever in the path, but remember that the path is wider than your footfalls..." And then he is still, and begins to fade.

K'net-mauri laughs. He looks at Strell, "Is that not the point of most entertainments?"

Dane seems sad at the man. "He has no son's or did thet die. " She says softly. "He's very bitter about something. " She mutters, glancing around the room to see the other's reaction to it and her words.

Kran'dok glances over at the Vulcan with only the ghost of a scowl on his nearly stoic face. "Indeed." He turns to the Ambassador. "It is also the tool or Propaganda," he says flatly. The Romulan looks over and gives his Trill guest a bit of a grin. "It seems we all see something different."

Jatila shifts back against her former leaning wall. "Bitter? Or convinced of his own genius?"

Strell unclasps and reclasps his hands. "Perhaps," he replies to K'net-mauri.

"Both," K'net-mauri tells Jatila. "What's more bitter than unrecognized genius?"

Kran'dok chuckles at the Ambassador. "Or unobtained genius." He shrugs and looks around the rest of the room for a moment, intent not to miss a single clue.

Dane nods her head slowly. "It could be many things. " She says thoughtfully her eyes still on the old Romulan, in white. "I'm sure, we'll be enlighened shortly. " She adds, wrigging her hand together still nervous and even more so.

Jatila glances toward her favorite Vulcan, then gives K'net-mauri a nod. "I have to agree with Kran'dok on that one. Alright. What is this morality play he spoke of?"

"I would guess it's the next part of the program," replies K'net-mauri. "I doubt it would be of much interest if that's all there is to it. Though the data-file /is/ rather small."

Soon the Romulan-in-white is gone, and the room itself begins to change, as holosuites do. The darkness of the blank walls, between the gridlines, stays, but also shifts, as the gridlines themselves disappear, taking on the aspect of night. Yes, it is nighttime, lit by torchieres in the ground, old fashioned flames which kiss and lick at the air and cast glows in small radii around the rods which bear them. The air is crisp and clean to the nostrils. It is country air. On a hillside. Yes, at night. By the clusters of firelight, the tableau is lit -- a crumbled old villa, somewhere in the countryside beneath the twin moons of Romulus. The cracked and strained voice of the Relath hologram speaks once more, disembodied: "An Author, In Search of Twelve Actors And A Setting ... the last work of Relath Ve'tar...."

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Did she just agree with me? What is this game of her's? There is no way that was entirely sincere."

. o O Jatila thinks, "We should have brought Sanek. No doubt he'd have this solved in a few minutes."

GAME: Strell contests his Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Fails.

GAME: Jatila contests her Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Succeeds.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Succeeds.

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Succeeds.

The Romulans, of course, have seen the night sky of their homeworld before, and so know it well enough. Strell? Dane? Not so much. So as their eyes adjust to take in the scenes around them, they are perhaps distracted. K'net-mauri, Jatila, and Kran'dok, on the other hand, find their eyes adjusting to the torchiere-light more quickly, and see that there is movement ahead. Voices can also be heard, alternating in the staggered way of a quiet-but-not-too-quiet conversation in the near distance. Maybe even multiple such conversations.

Strell narrows his eyes slightly as the scene changes. "A morality play focuses on a hero, whose inherent weaknesses are assaulted by personified diabolic forces," he remarks.

K'net-mauri smiles at the sky, shrugs, and looks to Jatila. "How would you like to proceed? I'm afraid I seldom play such games as this." He looks at Strell, "Who, do you suppose, is the hero in this scenario?"

Jatila does start to smile, glancing up briefly toward the Romulan sky. She opens her mouth, then pauses, turning her head. "Kran'dok." She gestures, and turns to prowl carefully toward those conversation(s).

Kran'dok is just about to give the adjutant an odd look when the scene suddenly shifts. He looks over to the Ambassador, clearly waiting for instructions. "This is your slice of madness sir," he says very quietly with a slight grin. Slowly he creeps after the woman as she leads on.

K'net-mauri glances at Jatila, then adds, still to Strell, "Perhaps you wish to join our self-appointed scouts. I'll stay in the rear and hope the personified diabolic forces don't take the hindmost."

Strell arches a brow, which is the Vulcan equivilant of a shrug in this instance. "There is not sufficient evidence at this time to make that conclusion. As for joining the scouting party, I was not invited."

K'net-mauri laughs. He follows after Jatila and Kran'dok, moving slowly so he'll remain well behind them.

Just a few paces forward, once two or three of the torchieres back-light the forward-movers of the group instead of adding light pollution to the range of vision, Jatila and Kran'dok -- and then eventually K'net-mauri -- can make out the main portion of the villa courtyard, a crumbling archway with two forms standing nearby off to one side, a center court with three figures in quiet but animated conversation standing on a patch of rubble-rimmed ground.

Jatila pauses, staring at the tableau for a long moment. Then she straightens, and abruptly looks haggardly weary, as she moves forward, directly for the hologrammatic figures. Not that she was ever /that/ great an actress, but hey, no one can say she doesn't try.

Strell moves after K'net-mauri, falling silent as he does so.

Kran'dok remains crouched in the shadows behind the woman. He glances back to ensure the rest of the party is alright, but otherwise remains hidden and ready to assist should need arise.

K'net-mauri remains quiet as he walks, listening intently to the probably-too-distant figures.

By the time the group moves as completely forward as they are going to -- Jatila in the lead, Kran'dok somewhere between her and K'net-mauri, Strell and Dane somewhere behind the Ambassador -- eyes have fully adjusted. In what is now sufficient torchlight to see, Jatila appears to be approaching the three figures, all of whom wear robes of the upper class, making them Senators or Ambassadors or simply very wealthy folk.

GAME: Jatila contests her History/Romulan vs Moderate and Fails.

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his History/Romulan vs Moderate and Marginally Succeeds.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his History/Romulan vs Moderate and Succeeds.

GAME: Strell contests his History vs Moderate and Succeeds.

Strell turns to the side, apparently moving to circle around the back side of the courtyard.

Jatila lifts an eyebrow, but that doesn't make her pause in her stride. It's too late for that.

Dane follows behind the Ambassador, glancing around alittle to take in the scene the sky catchs her eyes. "Beautiful. " She mutters, tearing her eyes from the sky and looking for where the Uhlan is.

K'net-mauri pauses, looking towards the holographic threesome. He tilts his head to one side, studying them.

Kran'dok sees the Vulcan leave the rear of the group and nearly goes back there until he realizes something. His attention snaps back to the Romulans the adjutant is approaching. He carefully creeps back to the Ambassador. "Sir," he whispers. "There is Senator Sotarin of the Qellar family there and also the woman is T'irana of the Barel family. This must be over 60 years ago before the man died."

K'net-mauri nods to Kran'dok. He whispers back, "And there is Du'ar of the Tela. This is interesting."

Strell pauses in his circling, angling so as to make his way into the courtyard proper.

Jatila pauses, turning her head sharply in Strell's direction.

For their own part, the holograms don't seem to hear or see the interlopers. Two men and a woman, standing on the ruins of some artistic mosaic that has seemingly crumbled with the rest of this ruined villa, they speak in low tones.

Sotarin: "I still do not see why we have to put up with this madness. These men are traitors and we would be heroes to dispatch them now."

Du'ar: "Oh, *please*, child. They are hardly a threat. They are mere" -- he gestures at one of the animals featured in the mosaic -- "ghost cats. Mere ter'ak. You chase at shadows that couldn't care less about anything more than a full belly and a warm bed. This is treason? This is *subversive*? For my part, I'd never follow one of these Ve'tar into battle, or stand up for them in the Senate, but they *do* know their art, and they are hardly the grand threat to the Empire you make them out to be."

T'irana: "I must agree with the Ve'tar's latest patron, here." -- a gesture to indicate Du'ar -- "They are cranks and hedonists, as their line has been for generations, but hardly traitors. Hate them for being weak, as I do, but do not make them more grandiose than they are."

Kran'dok looks back at the Trill and carefully considers the woman for a few moments. He motions for her to stay low and join him with the Ambassador. The Uhlan turns his attention back to Jatila and the Romulans she approaches. He listens with some interest.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "I hope this program makes allowances for non-Romulans. This will be a long blood bath if it does not."

. o O Kran'dok feels nervous and hesitant.

Jatila's brow furrows for a moment, then she dips to take a knee as the high-ranking holograms begin to speak, so as to listen quietly.

Dane stays close to the Ambassador, she still has no idea what this is all about. she glances to the Ambassodor. "Thank you for letting me come along to this. " She mutters, just incase they have no chance later. "I think this will give me a little more into your culture. " She glance at Kran'dok, and nods she then rolls her eyes. She's not that fragil.

. o O Jatila thinks, "Granted that the Ve'tar were no threat. That is obvious. They're dead."

K'net-mauri doesn't attempt to hide his presence. He stands there, watching the holo-three and listening to their conversation. He takes a few steps closer, for better audibility, and murmurs to Kran'dok, "It is historically inaccurate."

. o O Strell thinks, "I do not understand why we are taking such caution."

Strell pauses as he reaches the perimeter of the courtyard, folding his hands behind his back once again as he listens.

Kran'dok nods to the Ambassador and stands, shielding the smaller Trill behind himself slightly as he moves forwards with the man. "Well this is a work of fiction sir. A mad one I might add." He makes sure to stay behind K'net-mauri as they advance, flanking him as a guard should.

Dane sighs softly at the Uhlan she wants to see not get blocked by his large bluck but she'll humor him for now. So off she trots behind the two Romulan's.

K'net-mauri gives a belated, and absent-minded, nod to Dane.

Sotarin: "Hide you behind the shield of your military allies when you say that, Consul T'irana? Certainly not your reputation or the facts. You also have patronized these men."

T'irana: "Once, perhaps, but no longer."

Still, the visitors to this holo-routine go un-noticed for now, despite Jatila's proximity to the discussion. However, a servant of some kind approaches, with a tray of what appears to be fruit and goblets of some kind of wine. The servant takes on a, well, subservient posture, waiting to be recognized.

T'irana: "Have a care, Senator. The Tal Shiar, for all they love you and the skulkers of your house, will not save you if I denounce you. They may destroy *me*, but they will not save you. The enemy of your enemy is rarely your friend, merely a temporary ally, and one who never mourns your passing."

Jatila scowls a bit at T'irana's latter comment. She starts to move backwards, toward K'net-mauri and Kran'dok, before she realizes the presence of the servant and looks in that direction.

"Fascinating," Strell opines softly as he steps fully into the courtyard.

. o O Jatila thinks, "Sotarin. WHich house is he...?"

K'net-mauri listens, confident of his invisibility to the holographic senators.

The servant kneels at one of the now ragged and irregular edges of what was once perhaps a fuller, larger, more complete mosaic. And is finally noticed. "Yes," says Senator Du'ar of the Tela Family, dead for almost a hundred years, "we'll have wine. Come here, boy."

And the wine is brought.

Sotarin: "You have a care, Consul, or you may end up like Revarin Ve'tar did." A pause. "Or will." A pause. "Sometimes, it is *hard* to remember the order of things."

The boy lingers for a moment, and then T'irana's gaze falls on him. "Go away, boy," she says, as she takes some wine. "We drink only, tonight. The fruit you bear is rotten. It is green and horrid and" -- she quaffs some of the wine -- "frankly, your mad master's mad patron deserves it more than we do. I think they are down by the stone amphitheater, down that path."

Kran'dok remains where he is as the Ambassador waits. He relaxes slightly and moves aside for the Trill, grinning sheepishly.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Well, it seems I was over protective and over careful as always. I should not interfere with her experience of this as well."

Jatila blinks, and glances toward the path T'irana indicates, then back toward the Ambassador. An eyebrow arches inquiringly.

Dane steps to Kran'dok's side. "Nice of you to move that bulk of yours out of the way. " She mutters, softly squeezing his hand to show she's teasing. "Who are they?" she asks softly/

GAME: Strell contests his History+D vs Challenging and Marginally Succeeds.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his History/Romulan vs Challenging and Fails.

GAME: Dane contests her History+D vs Challenging and Fails.

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his History/Romulan vs Challenging and Fails.

GAME: Jatila contests her History/Romulan vs Challenging and Succeeds.

K'net-mauri pays no mind to Jatila, but when the boy passes and heads down the path T'irana indicated, he'll turn and follow in a leisurely way. It seems he's more interested in the mad master than in anacronistic senate members.

Strell glances between the senators, the indicated path, and the boy, before he turns his attention fully back to the senators.

Kran'dok gives the Trill woman's side a little pat of acknowlegement before he follows after the Ambassador at a respectable distance, indicating for her to stay close.

Dane rubs her side and glare at Kran'dok before nodding her head and sticking close to him and K'net-Mauri.

Jatila's lips purse, her brow furrowing as she glances back toward the governmental trio. She looks briefly after the Ambassador, then creeps around toward Strell.

. o O Jatila is... uneasy.

The conversation continues:
Sotarin: "Besides, let us say you are correct, and they are nothing more than the ter'ak on which we stand..." -- he also indicates the mosaic underfoot, in the manner of a trained public orator, used to making the little gestures that mean nothing, accentuate everything -- "The Ra'tar hunts the Ter'ak, does it not? It is considered part of the *natural* order of things?" Then he holds out a hand and arm to one side, and there is, above, a screeching that pierces the air, sharply, causing the servant boy to back up fearfully and almost stumble.

K'net-mauri has hardly moved after the servant boy when he stops, and looks upward.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Intellect/Perception vs Moderate and Succeeds.

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his Intellect/Perception+A vs Moderate and Succeeds.

GAME: Dane contests her Intellect/Perception vs Moderate and Succeeds.

GAME: Jatila contests her Intellect/Perception vs Moderate and Succeeds.

Strell shifts his gaze toward Jatila. "I believe that Revarin Ve'tar was a musician and a painter, killed in a duel with a jealous husband," he remarks to her as she gets close enough. "However, I am not fully certain of that." With an upswept brow at the screech, he looks up.

GAME: Strell contests his Intellect/Perception vs Moderate and Marginally Succeeds.

"Musician, painter, actor, and father to Relath," Jat nods. "Can't say that I blame Relath for feeling inferior to his father. That's one hell of a shadow to match. Good music too, mind you, though not exactly mod-" Her gaze, too, snaps upward.

At the last moment, the top of Strell's head is buzzed by the incoming path of a large, Romulan bird of prey -- not the metallic kind with a quantum singularity drie, but the real, flesh and blood creature, the Ra'tar, largest and most prominent and most legendary and honored and beloved of the Romulan raptors. The bird does not seem to *see* the Vulcan, who was unlucky enough to be in the last bowl-like swoosh of its sweeping flight path to the outstretched arm of the Senator from the Qellar family. The rest of the visitors to this holoroutine *saw* the bird, and also sees the servant boy take off like a shot, terrified.

Du'ar: "A *real* Ra'tar to hunt allegorical ghost-cats?" A laugh. "And you call the Ve'tar perverse, Senator?"

T'irana: "We are all perverse. The difference, Senator Du'ar, is that the Ve'tar and their past and present patrons admit it. It's the Orthodoxy that denies it."

Dane gasps rather loudly when she sees the brid a look of fright crosses her face as she just stares at the ceature. "What...Is... " She says her voice slow and frightened, as she just stares.

. o O Jatila thinks, "A jealous husband? And a famous military officer to boot." She hastily suppresses suspicions. "Can't be. No way."

Strell is silent for a moment before his gaze returns to the triumverate in the middle of the area. Unflappable as always, he murmurs, "That was unexpected."

Kran'dok glances up and takes a step towards the doctor as he hears the sound. Slowly he relaxes as he sees that they are clearly not the inteded targets. He sighs slightly and smiles down at the Trill. "We are quite proud of our raptors. It is a Ra'tar, rather beautiful if you ask me. This is quite likely some sort of literary tool or device of his."

Mad artists don't hold a candle to bloodthirsty raptoral birds, at least not in K'net-mauri's estimation. He forgets about proceeding to the stone amphitheatre and watches the eagle-sized falcon alight on Qellar's fist.

. o O Strell experiences a very brief flash of surprise before he slams it back into that locked up place where his emotions live.

Dane oh's softly but budges to the Romulan's side a little, a tiny hand clunches his arm, she looks up at him. "It is rather, but on the other side I shall not like to be running for my life with that Raptor behind me. " She says softly, still a little shocked.

Jatila's eyes follow the bird, flicking once toward one she knows is fond of falconry- her Ambassador- then she abruptly moves around Strell to stand at his other side. "I suspect much of this scenario will be unexpected," she murmurs.

Sotarin says nothing in response to the barbs of the other two politicans. He strokes the bird lovingly. Then, after a moment: "Find the Ter'ak, my precious. Find the treacherous little night-skulkers that would bring down the Empire ... and feed." He releases the bird, which starts to swoop back up.

Meanwhile, the boy seems to run in the *wrong* direction, however. In the distance, he can be seen practically tripping over the two figures who stand near the archway. One of them holds out a hand, stops the boy in his tracks, and points him in the right direction, towards the path of what is, perhaps, the amphitheater.

"What is the Orthodoxy that they refer to?" Strell asks, his eyes following the bird as he edges toward the path the boy will follow.

Kran'dok grins reassuringly at the woman, subtly placing a hand over hers. "I do not suspect that we are in any danger here. Besides, I am a far taller and easier target than you are," he whispers to her. "As for the meaning, beauty and danger Mir. I believe that would be an acurate description of many things Romulan."

"Very amusing," remarks K'net-mauri, watching the bird take off again.

Dane nods her head at Kran'dok and remebers they are not alone, with regret she moves away from him keeping a little distance from him. "I have to agree with that. " She says softly then looks towards the Trio. "Is that brid after that small boy, surely we can't allow that?" She says voice a little conerned.

Jatila's answer to Strell is... bitter, as she watches the bird. "I believe that the one who created this program considers the Orthodoxy... Well. I'm sure the Tal'shiar are included." SHe straightens, looking around.

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his Animal Handling/Raptors vs Routine and Succeeds.

Kran'dok shakes his head and whispers, letting the woman have a little distance. "I am not sure. I think he merely sends it of symbolicly to find the kin of our author. I am nearly as lost as you are here," he says with an excited grin.

The bird starts to move in the air, seeking, seeking, eyesight keen....and then starts to dive...

. o O Kran'dok feels nervous and protective.

K'net-mauri watches the bird rise up, seeming pleased at the beauty of its flight. He then blinks, remarks, "Here she comes," in a tone that seems to reveal that this is something to be wary of. That said, he makes a sudden movement, stepping rapidly sideways towards the nearest section of wall or tree.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "There is much mystery here to unravel. I am not sure what to think of all this yet, but... Is it coming down here again?"

"Ah," Strell replies to Jatila as he stops edging toward the path and turns onto it fully. He pauses, however, looking toward K'net-mauri as he starts to step away, then starts to make for cover himself.

Dane eeps a little and moves the same direction the Ambassador did, hologram it may be. Raptor food she doesn't want to be. "Where is it going." She whispers.

Jatila's gaze moves to the Ambassador, swiftly, then up. She frowns, then melts after Strell.

Kran'dok looks over to the Ambassador as he begins taking action. He quickly steps to Mir's side and begins to rush along with her towards the nearest cover, body towering over hers, trying to present an easier target. He tires to lead them over to the same place as the Ambassador to regroup.

. o O Jatila thinks, "Hologram. It's just a hologram. Can't hurt us."

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his Dodge+A vs Routine and Succeeds.

GAME: Jatila contests her Dodge vs Routine and Succeeds.

GAME: Dane contests her Dodge vs Routine and Succeeds.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Dodge vs Routine and Succeeds.

GAME: Strell contests his Dodge vs Routine and Succeeds.

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Marginally Fails.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Marginally Fails.

GAME: Strell contests his Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Marginally Succeeds.

Dane seems rather scared but managers to hide it well, reasure when she feels Kran'dok at her back. She turns to look at him muttering something under her breath.

Dane whispers to Kran'dok, " The Ambassador Kran'dok, I'm second to him."

GAME: Jatila contests her Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Succeeds.

GAME: Dane contests her Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Fails.

Right for the group is where it's heading. Apparently, *something* now seems to think you're part of the hologram. But K'net-mauri's keen knowledge of the creatures is enough to give advance warning that you might not otherwise have gotten, and so everyone is close enough to a tree, a crumbling section of wall, or some other massive or visually opaque object that provides cover or concealment. The bird swoops down ... and amongst this strange 'prey' ... but misses everyone. Clearly, however, it does not look happy, and begins to come around for another pass.

Kran'dok steps closer to the Ambassador and draws his disruptor. The Uhlan levels the weapon and leads the bird just slightly. The creature has attempted to attack the Ambassador and the Romulan's duty is clear on that. After a moment of aiming he fires.

Dane moves up to Kran'dok staying behind his back and close to the Ambassador, maybe it's not her duty but she'll try to protect the greater man if she can. With her life if need be.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Energy Weapon vs Moderate and Succeeds.

With a loud screech, the Ra'tar is tagged in flight, and drops into the darkness somewhere a torchiere is not.

"The senators are gone," Strell notes as he reaches cover. "I do submit, however, that the holodeck safeties should not be deactivated. There is nothing to fear from combatants."

Jatila's smile twists into something near-feral. "I guess we're the night-skulk..." She trails off, looking sideways rapidly before turning her attention back to the attacking bird. Or rather, to the man firing at it. Disruptor? She looks down at herself, not entirely surprised to see one at her hip. She doesn't draw it, though, instead breaking back toward the campfire that until a few moments ago had three senators standing around it. They're gone now, a fact confirmed by Strell.

K'net-mauri looks at Kran'dok, says, "That was probably a bit excessive. Or at least not much fun." He looks back to the absent senators, nods to Jatila, "Indeed, we are. Shall we night-skulk and overthrow the empire?"

And, in fact, there is, by the firelight, a sickly green ichor, nothing like the rich blue-black wine that should have been in the cups, spreading across the incomplete, crumbling mosaic of some Ter'ak moving through a fruit-orchard, odd yellow-green fruit hanging fat and low from the trees half-made of small stone-work tiles...

Kran'dok nods to the Ambassador and grins. "Indeed it left something to be desired, but there are some things that are not worth fun. I deeply regret to inform you that your safety is one of them. Despite what the Vulcan thinks, I would not put it past the author to have some malicious secrets hidden in here." He smiles slightly as he sees what the woman was meaning to do, then looks back to the Ambassador for further direction.

Strell steps out of his cover, looking toward the K'net-mauri-Dane-Kran'dok knot of people. "I will not endeavor, at this time, to alleviate your ignorance in the area of holodeck safety protocols." Of course, good money says that wasn't addressed to the Ambassador or Dane. Instead, he turns his attention to the green... well, whatever it is.

Jatila pauses, booted toe an inch or two away from spreading ichor. Her brow furrows, then she looks up toward the Ambassador. "You go check out the amphitheatre," she suggests, and kneels down carefully. "Ashau? It almost seems like... blood."

GAME: Jatila contests her Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Succeeds.

K'net-mauri nods to Kran'dok. "Remind you never to take you with me hawk-catching," he says. "I imagine I'd know it if this holoprogram had killed anybody. It is a game, and a vulgar and ridiculous one, that is all." He looks at the seeping green goo, saying, "Do we suppose we ought to investigate this unpleasant looking mire, or take it as a sign that our night-stalking is best done elsewhere?"

GAME: Strell contests his Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Succeeds.

Dane nods her head at Strell. "Some people can be twitche and act on instint. " She says softly laying a hand on Kran'dok's arm and squeezing it warningly. She looks down at the green stuff then. "Not the best outfit to be warn. " she mutters, letting her hand slide off the Romulan's arm as she cruches down to take a look.

Kran'dok grimces slightly and fixes a cold gaze on the Vulcan. "Do not start your inflamitory remarks with me tonight. We are not here for that. I would rather protect the Ambassador with actions than assumptions," he states levely and without room for question. He does not seem to notice the woman or the investigation just yet.

"Action without thought is hardly appropriate," Strell replies simply as he looks up from the liquid. "However, in the interests of time, I will not attempt to correct you at this time; you are correct in your statement that there are more appropriate locales for such activities to occur within." Then, to K'net-mauri, he adds, "This does not appear to be blood. It smells like wine."

Jatila frowns, then reaches out, dipping index and middle finger lightly in the ichor to bring it close for a sniff. "It's wine." She sounds a little surprised. Probably because the spilled liquid looks so bloody icky grossly awful. Nobody makes wine that vomit-green color! Not if they want to sell it, anyhow. Her brow furrowing, Jat shifts, then pauses. Then she spins on her knee, her frown lifting a bit. "Ashau?" The Romulan woman beckons to Strell, then points. "Look. The parts missing from the mosaic. It's a pattern. Sort of. Maybe the artist didn't finish a methodical... placing?" She looks up toward Strell, frustrated for the words she wants- the missing parts are very precise in their missingness- geometrically so.

"Kran'dok, tolerate the Vulcan and quit annoying me by getting agressive with him," says K'net-mauri. "He is not going to react in a way that will satisfy your feelings. He is what he is, and your harping on the fact annoys me." He looks at the pattern Jatila is pointing out, furrowing his brows a bit.

Dane looks down at the green stuff a little then raises an eyebrow when it's identified as wine. "Hmm. " she says softly. "Remind me not to try that brand. " She mutters hoping to lighten the mood. She glances back at Kran'dok, and shakes her head slightly.

Kran'dok grimaces and says nothing. Instead he stands up fully and begins to look around the perimeter as others seem to examine the ground. "Do we require a chemical analysis or should we move on?" he inquires from the Ambassador flatly, though clearly looking to get on with something.

. o O Kran'dok feels annoyed and frustrated.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "He was the one who started this, yet again. His disrespectful and dismissive comments. Even when I do not fall for the bait I get in trouble. This is infuriating. What is worse the Ambassador seems to blindly enjoy the /Vulcan/."

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Succeeds.

K'net-mauri smiles at Kran'dok, "I don't think so," he says. "Though perhaps we need a cryptologist to tell us the meaning of the mosaic. You would like to make a call to the mad master?"

Dane stays quiet for a few moments, a little out of her depth here. She sighs and stands up walking back to the two male Romulans and looking around.

Strell steps back, tilting his head to the side as he considers the pattern that Jatila is pointing out. "This was left deliberately unfinished," he offers after a moment. "But it is meant to look like it was destroyed by the ravages of time. Why would the artist purposely conceal his work in such a fashion?" He glances at the Romulans, apparently looking for an answer.

Jatila's brow furrows, then she leans forward, using the knife edge of her hand to sweep away green ichor wine (obviously due to be the next rage at the Neutral Zone). "Hell if I know," she answers Strell. "That'd be like-" She stiffens, then kneels back, looking up at him. "Why would an artist forget a coat of primer?" Her gaze slews toward K'net-mauri. "Where did you get this program?"

Kran'dok turns his gaze back to the group. "Well I would think that this portion of the program is over. Finish what you want here and there are two obvious paths. One to the amphitheater and a second unkown path." He glances towards the mosaic then back at Strell. "We tend to venerate past heros and great works. Perhaps the artist is trying to liken the work to something great from the past or simply give it the credebility and honor of age."

K'net-mauri chuckles to Strell, "Because this is a puzzle that is not meant to reflect any accurate reality, but to convey some significant hidden meaning. Or, more likely, it was made to look like it conveys some significant hidden meaning, when in fact it is just Relath Ve'tar's idea of a joke, to make a holoprogram that will get half the Romulan elite to play at being insurrectionists for an hour or two." He looks at Jatila, "From home."

Dane goes home.

Dane has left.

Strell lifts a brow, considering the mosaic once again. "Fascinating."

. o O Strell works on committing the pattern of the mosaic to memory.

Jatila eyes the Ambassador. "Uh huh." She looks back up at Strell for a moment, then her gaze turns toward Kran'dok. "Pick one."

Kran'dok chuckles. "Were I to be the one to pick the choice would be almost entirely random. That being the case, I will suggest the unkown path." He finishes speaking and looks around the perimeter again, allowing others to decipher this puzzle.

K'net-mauri shrugs to Jatila. "Seriously. Appearantly, everyone is quite keen to learn if there really is some significant hidden meaning, and quite unkeen to be seen using this seditious holoprogram. Are you going to denounce me for wanting to know if it really does have something to say," He seems quite amused, happy. "Or would you rather find out? It's bound to be funny, at least." He grins at Kran'dok as if he'd never rebuked the man, and starts to the unknown path in his unhurried way.

Jatila chuckles, accepting that answer. "Oh defintely. Going to denounce you, steal your wife, and steal your credentials." She smirks, going back to studying the mosaic. "Little ter'ak," she murmurs, "What are you hiding, ironic though you might be?"

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his History/Romulan vs Routine and Succeeds.

Strell folds his hands behind his back and turns toward the unknown path behind K'net-mauri.

Kran'dok looks curiously at the Ambassador for a moment then shrugs and quickly makes his way to catch up. Once he is near the man, he begins to walk more cautiously. "And merely amusing is more than I am sure we could hope for. One does not become persecuted for simply trying to give people an innocent laugh," he says wearily.

Jatila sits back, watching the three of them go. After a thoughtful moment, she pushes herself up, dusts her hands against one another, and turns to head in the other direction, with a firm step- heading toward the amphitheatre.

K'net-mauri hesitates when he sees something, and slows down his already unhurried pace, not quite stopping but still waiting to see what the figures will do.

Strell pauses, glancing back over his shoulder toward Jatila as she heads off in the opposite direction. After a moment, he turns to follow her instead.

Kran'dok picks up on the Ambassador's hesitation and slows his pace to match. He looks back to see the adjutant and the Vulcan going off in the other direction. The Uhlan's attention falls back to path ahead and is immediate surroundings.

The conversation of the two figures at the archway -- it starts up again as K'net-mauri approaches the unknown path -- drifts to the Ambassador and to Kran'dok

"I tell you, my friend," says a feminine voice, "that you really *don't* have to do this the hard way. For once, please, consider the alternative."

"No," says a masculine voice. "If it is worth doing, it is worth doing with my own toil. My family's honor deserves that much. A home for the Ve'tar, and I will build it. You have known me for many years. Can you doubt my sincerity?"

Jatila slows a bit, without looking back, to let the Vulcan catch up with her. She casts a soft smile toward him, and continues on.

. o O Kran'dok feels a pang of personal attachement.

K'net-mauri says, "Ah, Jatila," in a chiding tone, and perhaps not really loud enough to be heard. He doesn't hide from the holograms but he doesn't attempt to call their attention to himself either, instead lingering to listen in on their conversation.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Strange that I of all people should have something in common with one of /them/. Mirantha is the most difficult challenge I have ever faced in my life. It only makes her the most valuable thing to me in the universe."

Jatila and Strell sweep down the path at the slowed pace. It declines sharply at the edge of the clearing, winding around the base of the hillside on which the ruined villa seems to have been built. The stonework becomes denser, more compact, and, yes, from the vantage point of the Romulan and the Vulcan walking together, it seems to take the form of a descending series of benches terminating at the lowest point in a stage. On that stage is a couch, and a few meters from it, a table. Two men -- one reclining on the couch, one standing at the table. Still too far away for details, however.

Strell glances around the ampitheatre as he falls alongside Jatila. "Perhaps we should move closer to listen?" he asks softly. "That is, if they are speaking."

Jatila doesn't hear the Ambassador, no. And even if she had, she'd probably be puzzled at the tone. In any case, she settles into comfortable companionable striding with Strell, pausing only once they detect a pair of men. "Agreed," she murmurs, and moves forward again, hands tucked casually behind her back as if she's simply out for an evening's stroll.

Kran'dok subtly shrugs as the pair dissapears and turns his attention to the conversation. He stops in his tracks, almost as if frozen for a moment. Something that was said seems to catch his interest.

And the conversation by the archway continues. The man who speaks reaches for a table, where small bits of stone and various tools rest. He takes up some of the stone, fitting the pieces into cracks in the archway, as if filling out the work of the archway's form in layers. "A home for the Ve'tar," he repeats. "If my children are at all like me, even a little, Madame Ambassador, we are going to need it. If they are cursed the way I am cursed, with the sight of the Ve'tars, they are going to need a place of quiet sounds, of soft colors, of indolent leisure. Else the madness. And after a lifetime fighting off that madness in the cacophanous bridge of a busy battleship, after sacrificing a son or two to the cause, after being reviled as a soft, peace-loving, radical by the harsher voices in the shadows, I think I have earned a place to come rest, where the only shadows are the one cast by my torches."

K'net-mauri laughs almost silently, just a smile and movement of his head. He continues to wait on the path, stepping a little aside as he listens.

And some conversation is happening in the amphitheater, as well. The man on the couch tilts back his head, drinks from a goblet. "So," he says. "Tell me again what you call it, Master Artiste? I'm ... curious. I've never heard of this condition before."

"It's called Synesthesia, milord" says the smaller, slender, soft-faced man, with the quiet voice, whose hands brush over diagrams and drawings stretched out over the table. "The men of my family have always had an unusual ... condition. Our senses ... blend."

"Blend." It's flat, like a statement, but actually a question.

"Yes. Some ask any physician. It's not as rare as all that, though rare enough in this intensity, to this degree, with this level of genetic inheritance. The men of my family have always seen sounds as color. It is why my family has always been musicians. Why we have always lived on the fringes. Because our music ... most do not understand." A bitter laugh. "So we've always been broke, pitied, spat-upon musicians. I am the first to try and reverse the curse, to use the way I see sound to work in the visual arts. And if I have my way, the Ve'tar family will be strong. I will be the first of a great line of true artists. Polymaths. Music. Art. Dance. All of it. We will do it all. And we will be a great family, perhaps even to rival your own, if I might be so bold..."

Kran'dok shakes his head disappointedly for a moment, but says nothing as he listens. The Romulan makes no sound as not to disturb the Ambassador's enjoyment of this work of 'art'.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his History/Romulan vs Routine and Succeeds.

Strell pauses as he listens to the conversation between the characters, his brow arching.

Jatila's expression pretty much mirrors Strell's, though her own reflects a bit of dubious nature as well.

And, of course, the archway conversation continues, too, with 'Madame Ambasador' replying to the old soldier. "The Treaty we signed at Cheron will hold, Admiral. Your sons will not have died in vain. And the land the Senate granted you, I am sure you will take it and make something of it. Perhaps you will even earn a Senate seat for one of your grandchildren, or one of *their* grandchildren."

"I don't want a Senate seat, Siyan. I want peace and quiet. I want to stop seeing what the Ve'tar have always seen. Do you *know* the color of the antimatter explosion that killed my son in the counter-assault that drove Raptor D'jarek from Dulcais? I was 65 Light Years away, and I can tell you the color, because I heard the explosion. I *saw* the colors when I heard the explosion, and I knew that when those blue-blooded *insects* from Fimdari convinced their homeworld to enter the war on the side of the Terrans, we would lose. Now, there is talk that those creatures and the Terrans and the misguided sons of Surak are all banding together in some 'Federation'." He shakes his head. "We needed peace, so that we could prepare for the greater war to come, and I and my children will need quiet, without the colors, without the noise, to do so."

K'net-mauri scowls at the conversation he's listening to. He makes a little impatient hand-gesture, to no one. Perhaps urging the absent artist to carry on, out with it.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Pathetic. He forsakes his duty to the Empire to lick his own wounds and go cry in a corner. Is this something the author is attempting to put a heroic spin on?"

Kran'dok scoffs slightly as he tries to keep his thoughts to himself. He looks at the Ambassador curiously for a moment.

Back in the amphitheater, the seated noble in fashions that are four hundred years old if they are a day, *laughs*. "As if, Redaro, any artiste, no matter how skilled, could equal the blood and history of the Kayton." He shakes his head. "When I inherit Doge-ship of the House, I assure you, what you've done will not be forgotten. My brothers and sisters and cousins laugh at me, for wanting to leave the capital city, move out of our palazzo and build this grand new villa here. They have yet to *see* your art. They have yet to *see* what you can do. I have. I trust, Master Artiste, that this will be a long and happy relationship between the family of Kayton and the family of Ve'tar ... but ..." And then his voice grows cold and he drops the goblet and pushes up from the couch. "Don't ever think that you will ever be my equal, or that your sons will be the equals of my sons, or their sons, unto any generation."

The artist, startled by the change in tone, looks up. "Magenta," he says.

"What?" The nobleman is checked in his forward stride.

"The sound your cup made when it struck the stone. That was magenta, Legate Tavianus. A note of pure magenta."

And the nobleman laughs. "Redaro Ve'tar, sometimes I swear I could kiss you instead of kill you. You make me laugh."

Jatila blinks. Kayton. Kayton?!?

Strell glances at Jatila. "He claims to hear color." The fact that his other eyebrow rises could convey the impression that the Vulcan has decided that the standing figure is quite mad indeed. Of course, this is backed up by the fact that he adds, "He does not seem to be well, mentally."

And the man and the woman K'net-mauri and Kran'dok are watching? They, too, continue their conversation. "Alright, Admiral," says Ambassador Siyan, co-signer of the Treaty of Cheron. "Suppose you are right. Suppose a war is coming. Suppose you and your sons are going to be part of it. Suppose *any* of them inherit the discipline to deal with the things you see when there are the noises of battle around you, the alarms and the explosions." A smile. She touches his sleeve. "For my own part, Re'kan, I doubt that highly. You are the most disciplined man I have ever known, and if I had met you before my husband, your line would be my line today. But do you really think you will be permitted to retire? I doubt we will both live another decade before the assassins strike in the dark with knives. We did what needed to be done for the Empire, but we will never be loved for it."

"I cannot believe that, Siyan. I cannot believe that I have doomed the Ve'tar rather than uplifted them. I cannot believe my family will never be anything more than artists driven mad by the things we see that others do not. We will never hold high political office, but will always be at the beating heart of Rom'laas."

K'net-mauri seems a little less impatient, considering. He stands and listens with his head tilted to one side, turns a little to face Kran'dok but not really looking at the man.

Kran'dok whispers to the Ambassador, "Is this the part where the author injects a bit of romance and tragic heroism?" He looks about one more time before settling his attention on the speaking pair again. It seems that at least he is some what interested in this.

"Something like that," K'net-mauri says to Kran'dok, softly. "But I suppose he might naturally want to insist on glorifying his family."

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his Artistic Expression vs Moderate and Succeeds.

Jatila nods to Strell, settling down on the ground and... really, looking rather confused.

Kran'dok nods thoughtfully. "That seems to be what we were lead to expect after the introduction, but there must be something more. I can not imagine that the finaly masterpiece of such a dangerous family would be so transparent. Not a moment of time, not a single breath or move can wasted. Everything says something."

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Artistic Expression vs Moderate and Fails.

At this point, with a few more quiet, meaningless exchanges, whispered words, exhalations, sighs, both the amphitheater and the archway holograms go quiet, freeze, as if the information they contained is done.

Strell considers the scene before him for a long moment of silence, then turns back toward the main courtyard.

K'net-mauri nods to Kran'dok. "Oh, I suppose, if I thought they were dangerous. As I said, it may only be made to seem as if everything says something." He gestures at the top of an archway, saying, "Look. The missing tiles. And then some." Mid-sentance the holoprogram freezes, but Mauri doesn't pause his speech in response to it, just lifts an eyebrow.

Kran'dok glances up towards where the man indicates. He looks confused for a moment as he takes everything in. "What do you mean sir?" he inquires softly.

Strell arrives, still silent as he approaches the other two.

. o O Strell thinks, "A fascinating puzzle. Two in as many days, in fact."

K'net-mauri shrugs at Kran'dok, "Maybe it's a big secret, maybe it's a big joke. The man who made it may not have been a dangerous traitor, but he was perverse." He wanders around the lifeless holographic 'set' as he speaks, looking at its details.

Kran'dok examines the arch for a few more minutes before considering the rest of the scene. "So what is he trying to say here? Is he trying to justify his family's 'retreat' from society? It seems to me that he is trying to clear their name." He shakes his head disappointedly.

"It would seem to me, at least on the surface, that he is attempting to explain his family's ouster from Romulan society," Strell notes. "However, there is hidden meaning which will only be revealed upon careful reflection and study of the clues provided."

"Appearantly, yes," says K'net-mauri to Kran'dok. He nods to Strell when the Vulcan appears, and then continues through the arch and down the path beyond, taking his time and looking about.

Kran'dok follows the other Romulan after a few moments. He says nothing, but keeps his eyes open for movement and other hidden dangers.

Strell, having run out of insights for the moment, just takes another look around the courtyard.

Up ahead of K'net-mauri, this path moves into the deeper treeline, emerging in a grove. Three men are there, but it is the moonlight rather than torchlight which illuminates them. The serving boy moves past K'net-mauri, as if programmed to move to this scene now, as well. He starts to move into the clearing, but the conversation stops him:

"Please, Commander, you must understand my cousin's position in this matt---"

"I must understand *nothing*!"

"Well," comes the dry, third voice, "you said it, son of Kaytale, I didn't."

The first voice, the voice of sanity, speaks up again: "Revarin, *shut up*. You're making things worse."

Is it any wonder the serving boy is a bit cowed?

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his History/Romulan+A vs Routine and Succeeds.

K'net-mauri comes up and stands behind the serving boy to watch and listen to this new set of characters make their performance. His brows pull together in response to what he sees, he stares intently at a the holographic Romulan man dressed in green and sienna-orange.

Kran'dok has no apparent reaction yet. The conversation is only just getting started and he has yet to get his bearings. He pauses a bit behind the Ambassador to listen in.

Strell leaves the courtyard to join the other men after a few more moments, moving to stand next to K'net-mauri.

"Master Ve'tar," says the man in the high-quality clothes, in the green and sienna. "Kindly inform Master Ve'tar that if he does *not*, in fact, do as you've bidden and shut up, your family will lose half of its masters tonight."

The wry-voiced man laughs. "Relax, Sutara. We've known each other since we were children, for pity's sake. You have always mocked the low origins of my house, and I've always mocked your avoidance of rational thought, instinctive to a degree that all six generations of my ancestors back to Redaro the Elder would envy. Why should it be any different?" But there is a dangerous tone to his voice. It *is* different, though the why be a mystery, and all three men seem to know it.

"M-m-masters? Milord Commander? Some ... fruit?"

"Oh, *go away*, boy," And the vrelnec is up in Commander Sutara's hand, and bats at the tray, sending the sickly green fruit flying every which way. "We're not hungry for attelran fruit, and you let the Senators drink all the wine. Since this is *over* a woman, and the Master will hardly honor me with song right now, we're out of options, and my nuncle wouldbe displeased if I gave you nightmares for the rest of your life. So go."

K'net-mauri frowns as he listens, seeming grim and thoughtful now. This really isn't proving to be much of a game, though it may indeed be seditious.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "What is the significance of the server bou and the spilled drink? He seems to tie things together. Is there any significance?"

Strell lifts a brow. "Interesting."

Kran'dok chuckles just slightly, though his face is rather dark. "I can hardly imagine where they ever got their reputation. Their style is quite, unique, for lack of a more polite word," he says slowly.

"A song is what you want, eh? Which, Sutara? Which of the many songs of embittered love, cuckholdry, and friendship gone the way of rotten fruit shall I share with you tonight?"

"Revarin, for pity's sake...." The other Ve'tar looks anxious now. "He's a master duelist. Do you *want* to die?"

"Indeed," adds Sutara. "Listen to your Cousin Revash, old friend." Unlike Revarin, he seems more sad than bitter in his words. "Mad I may be, but I have listened to you through the years. I know your secrets as you know mine. I know you can *see* the color of steel ringing on steel in ways I cannot -- through the generations, my father and my father's father have listened enough to know that -- but I need not know the color of the sound to know what to do when the sound comes. Do you hear that well enough, Revarin?"

K'net-mauri murmurs, "Something like that," to Kran'dok. "It did happen that Sutara of Kaytale killed Revarin Ve'tar in a duel. If I remember right." He seems as though he thinks he does.

"You only think you know---"

"No, I *know*, Revarin. I know how much you and your people crawl around your betters, listening to our vices. You're more public with your own, as befits a family of artists with barely a scrap of land in the hinterlands to call their own, living in good company on the reputation of a single war hero of dubious valor. But I know the secrets you think you've gathered. You *think* they will serve you in good stead some day. But who would listen to you? Who would dare? What is your word compared to mine? Who would *believe* you if you told them?" He holds up a hand, the words having come from hin in a rush. "Revash, now that I've said my mind here, I think I will be going, before your cousin makes me forget that I don't duel commoners. Perhaps tomorrow, when the anger has passed, we shall all be friends again."

Kran'dok considers that. "Martyred for his art or devotion to some ideal? I expect that is how it will be portrayed here," he says in a quiet whisper. The younger Romulan watches for a few more moments. "Oh, will we be asked to make a choice? Will we have to select an ideal to save?"

Strell folds his hands behind his back. "Perhaps we will be required to stand in for a duelist."

"I don't know," says K'net-mauri. "Maybe."

Revash reaches for Revarin's arm, as if to stay what he *knows* is coming next, but the other man shrugs him off as Commander Sutara starts to walk away. "Are you going to *her* bed, then, Sutara? What makes you think she'll have you now? What makes you think she'll bend to your will? No ... I've arranged for that not to happen. You can have almost everything, but you can't have her anymore." And with that, he starts to turn away, back to his cousin. "We're done here, Revash. Let's go ho----GUUUUUUUUU--AAAAAAAA---"

The heavy vrelnec has taken away almost half of the left side of Revarin Ve'tar's lower abdomen. "I don't duel commoners," says Commander Sutara. And then the blade comes down again. "I execute them."

Strell tilts his head to the side. "I stand corrected."

Kran'dok grins slightly as he watches, but seems to have no other reacion. "Yes, well I still hold out hope for my theory."

K'net-mauri doesn't seem suprised at the next peice of action, but he grimaces. He's not a bit happy about it, regardless of it being only a holoprogram. Not that he does anything about it, but reply to Strell blackly, "Indeed."

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "It sounds as if he was having some sort of relations with the other man's wife. I would expect nothing less from a traitorous Ve'tar. There should be no doubt in anyone's mind why they were driven from our society. This pathetic attept to stirr pitty will fail."

Revash Ve'tar, for his own part, jumps back, horrified. He watches as Commander Sutara kneels down and places his lips against the already too-far-gone Revarin's ear and says something that is barely more than a long breath. Then he rises and says more clearly, "I see things differently, too. You would do well to remember that, Revash," to the cowed Master. "When the boy comes of age," he flicks the vrelnec to indicate the corpse, "warn him of that, too. Warn little Relath to be more his mother's son than his father's, or he, too, may end up dead this way, rather than dying peacefully in his sleep, the way a Ve'tar deserves."

K'net-mauri watches impassively. Well, almost impassively. He grinds his teeth a little.

Strell falls silent, watching the scene play out.

Kran'dok shakes his head slightly, clearly having some thoughts of his own on the subject.

Commander Sutara then turns around, and starts to move for the path, and that is when his eyes fall on the two Romulans and the Vulcan. And it is clear that he *sees* them. "And who," he says, suddenly tense again, and raising the heavy, dangerous blade, "might you be?"

K'net-mauri lifts a brow, seeming a bit suprised to have been noticed. He looks Sutara up and down again, fearlessly inspecting the hologram like the thing that it really is. "Visitors. We seem to have arrived at a bad time."

Kran'dok stands up a little more straight, but says nothing to the hologram. Under his breath he mutters, "And here is our choice I presume."

Strell gazes impassively at the murderous hologram.

Sutara laughs a bit, despite the blood on his uniform. "Well, now, that actually depends. If you've come to commission a work from the Ve'tar, then, yes, a bad time." He eyes the three strangers. "If you're here for me, well, state your business."

"For you?" says K'net-mauri. "I am not sure there is any favour you could offer me. What has this artist done to make you exert yourself so, anyway?" he indicates the corpse and the blade in turn, with his eyes.

Kran'dok slowly begins to step forwards along the side to put himself closer to the hologram than the Ambassador.

"That depends on how you see things." Sutara frowns. "One of us would say we quarelled over a pretty bauble. The other would call it theft. One of us was right. One of us is dead." Eyeing the clearly professional, disciplined movement of Kran'dok. "If you want to know more than that, I'm afraid there's a price."

K'net-mauri smiles at the holoimage, humourlessly. "Oh? And what might that be?"

"Undoubtedly high," Strell notes softly.

"I'm a wealthy man," K'net-mauri tells Strell, aside.

Kran'dok comes to a rest, making sure not to block the conversation between the two men, but putting himself in a position to properly do his job.

Sutara then laughs, but it's a harsh laugh. "If one of you can beat me -- I'll even make it fair and put away the blade and fight bare-handed -- I'll tell you what I told him, before he died."

K'net-mauri chuckles. He looks from Kran'dok to the Vulcan and inquires, "Care to try?"

Strell lifts a brow. "You wish to be defeated in single combat? What purpose does that serve? Surely there is another arrangement that can be made." He is, after all, a Vulcan.

Kran'dok chuckles slightly. "Naturally I would love to. What about you Strell? The Adjutant seems to think quite highly of your combat prowress. Should you not feel up to it, I would gladly take the challenge?" He grins a little as a thought crosses his mind. "Fun, what else?" he asks the Vulcan in a tone that suggests the Vulcan may have a point.

Sutara says "I don't think I *will* be defeated. I am merely willing to offer a prize to the man who beats me. Much good will it do you even if you can. Only three men know what the words mean, and two of them are dead."

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Well, it seems the terms are that only one of us need defeat him. He did not say that we only had one chance. Should it come down to it, all three of us could try. And yes, it /would/ be fun."

K'net-mauri shrugs to Strell, "It's a game," he observes.

"If this is your idea of fun," Strell remarks to Kran'dok, "then by all means. I have no desire to fight against a holographic recreation of a murderer, long dead." He pauses, then adds, "As Surak said, 'The spear in the other's heart is the spear in your own; you are he'."

Sutara looks at Strell oddly for a moment. "You're one of *those*, then, eh?" Then, to Kran'dok and K'net-mauri. "Well?"

Kran'dok scoffs slightly and lets the comment slide. He takes a few more steps forwards and looks the Commander in the eyes. It seems we would like to know this information and I am willing to accept your terms." There is a slight grin on the Romulan's face.

K'net-mauri nods to Kran'dok. "Enjoy yourself," he says.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "And what does your Surak say about standing by while others fight? It would seem two of us are about to thrust spears into eachother's hearts. Why not stop us since shurely that thrusts a spear into your own."

Sutara lets the heavy blade >shhhuck< into the loam, then sinks into an elegant defensive stace. "Come, then."

Strell folds his hands behind his back. "There is another way," he remarks to the Ambassador.

K'net-mauri lifts a brow at Strell. "In this context? Do you think so?"

"There are always possibilities," Strell replies simply.

Time: Sat Jul 16 14:06:24 2005

Stardate: 55119.3

GAME: Jatila contests her Intellect/Perception & Unarmed Combat vs Moderate and Succeeds.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Intellect/Perception & Unarmed Combat vs Moderate and Fails.

Kran'dok drops back into a slightly higher and more agressive stance. He barely waits a heartbeat before shuffle skipping towards his target, rapidly closing the distance. The Romulan feins a low punch to the stomach, while keeping his true strike hidden until the last moment. Pressing the tips of his first three fingers together, he aims the true strike at a sensative nerve cluster in the Romulan's neck

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Here is where we find out just how well this was programed. This will be a very long fight if I can not harm this hologram."

Jatila watches the now weaponless man, her lips pursing for a moment. "Kran'dok," she breathes. "Better you than me in this combat. I never fought-" She shakes her head a bit, settling back when Kran'dok moves before her warning can be completed. Oh well.

. o O Jatila thinks, "Not that I wouldn't mind trying. Strell'd have a heart attack if I did though."

GAME: Sutara takes 7 points of damage.

Sutara slips part of the blow, taking it on the shoulder, but tries to use the momentum to spin himself around and plant a ridge-hand strike across Kran'dok's eyes.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Intellect/Perception & Unarmed Combat vs Moderate and Succeeds.

Dane is stood with K-net a little away from the fight watching, she seems to be looking rather concerned but can clear see Kran'dok it holding his own.

. o O Dane thinks, "The safties are on, there on don't panic don't worry. He's safe."

Kran'dok does not seem to hear any warnings from the others. The Uhlan ducks under the return strike, dipping his arm down and trying to wrap his forearm behind the Commander's shoulder. If all goes well, he should not even need to use his other hand to lock the man's arm. A quick twist attempts to break his arm.

GAME: Sutara takes 20 points of damage.

Sutara staggers back as his limb *cracks* under the breaking force of the blow. Again the arm swings back for the blinding strike.

Kran'dok ducks under the strike and attempts to catch the hand. There is a deep fierceness in his gaze as a slight grin plays across his lips. Kran'dok tries to pull the the arm out and snap the Commander's working elbow with his other forearm. "We can talk any time you like Commander," he growls, though it is clear he was trying to speak calmly. Despite the ferocity in his manuvers and expression, he seems almost oddly calm.

. o O Kran'dok feels a calm sort of excitement and thrill.

GAME: Sutara takes 5 points of damage.

Sutara seems to be ready for it this time. He spins with the force of the blow, still sheltering his bad arm, and tries to bring his good one around one. more. time.

Kran'dok blocks the blow with his forearms and grasps onto the man's arm. Tries to clutch the arm tightly against his torso, Kran'dok twists and wrenches upwards, attempting to break the good shoulder. There is a reason Kormerek users are viewed as brutish.

GAME: Sutara takes 20 points of damage.

Sutara just .... drops. Falling to his knees. He looks like he has some fight left in him, but the arms just plain don't want to move.

. o O Kran'dok feels grimly satisfied and confident. There is definately some pride in what he is feeling.

Kran'dok stands carefully guarding himself still, just barely panting as he slolwy calms down. After a few moments the Romulan shrugs and looks back at the others. "Sadly it seems our author was more of an artist than a fighter. I believe the agreement was that he would tell us what we like to know." There is only a hit of the fierceness and joy in his eyes now.

Jatila glances toward Kran'dok with a chuckle. "Well done, I'll admit."

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Well that was enjoyable. I suppose I have on thing to thank the Ve'tar's for, the chance to show off like that, even if the opponent was not match."

Sutara rocks completely back on his hips, sitting on his feet, gritting his teeth. "What I told him was this: Names and titles, like madness, can skip generations. Such is the legacy of the son his wife has borne." And now that that message is delivered, every part of the hologram simply ... stops, leaving the sentient patrons of the holosuite in a frozen night-time grove. Leaves are still. People don't move.

Kran'dok takes a few more breaths to completely calm down before he inclines his head politely to the adjutant. "Thank you," he says flatly. "Spear through my heart indeed," he adds under his breath with a slight scoff. He turns to the man as he speaks, carefully considering his words. "Is that to say there is another Ve'tar hidden some where?" he asks no one in particular.

Jatila's eyebrows rise, her gaze thoughtful on Sutara. "Not 'his son'. The son his wife had borne. Hmm."

Time: Sat Jul 16 20:21:39 2005

Stardate: 55119.9

K'net-mauri smiles at Kran'dok, rather approvingly.

. o O Arzt thinks, "Although, there's a part of me that's always wondered what everyone would look like naked."

. o O Arzt feels curious and a little embarrassed by her thoughts.

. o O Hurley is absolutely.. SHOCKED.. at Goodwin. The flush feeling starts and rapidly builds.

Jatila catches the Ambassador's expression, lifts an eyebrow inquiringly.

Kran'dok inclines his head respectfully to the Ambassador. After a few moments his eyes begin to search the area for further amusements or trouble.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "it is not often that I get that look. It would be nice if I were able to receive it more often, but with all my activities, I should be happy to see it at all."

But everything is still, except the Romulans and their guests...

. o O Green thinks, "Wow. If Chris gets any redder, her head's going to explode."

"Not much of a secret, if that was it," says K'net-mauri. "But an interesting one in spite of it." He starts to explore the silent and still holo-set.

. o O Hurley thinks, "Escape routes.. escape routes... a quick.. escape... plan..."

Jatila looks around, dubiously. "All this effort for /that/. I have a hard time believing that. There has to be more."

K'net-mauri nods to Jatila. "I must agree."

Kran'dok stops dead in his tracks. "Sir, I feel one of my crazy ideas coming on." He pauses for a moment as if for dramatic effect, how appropriate. "Could he be implying that our Preator is a Ve'tar?" he asks almost worriedly. "I do not know the geneologies very well."

The exploring is quick, indeed. And yields one more item of note. By the time the party has 'returned' to the 'mosaic area', the holographic participants are not just frozen, but gone. The table of spare stones and tiles Admiral Re'kan Ve'tar was using to repair the archway is there, but Re'kan and Sylan are nowhere to be found. Similar excursions show that Legate Tavarinus and Master Redaro the Elder are likewise gone from the amphitheater. The Senators do not return. Even going back to the grove shows no sign of Sutara or the two cousin-Masters.

. o O Arzt thinks, "Is Lt Commander Goodwin hitting on Christine, or making fun of her?"

. o O Arzt feels confused, not sure how to react.

K'net-mauri smiles wryly at Kran'dok as he moves. "I don't think so, but it does seem worth it to find out just who this son turned out to be. Records will show. He's certainly implying that somebody is mad."

Jatila glances toward Kran'dok, lips pursing in thought. "Too many possibilities at this point." She nods vague agreement with the Ambassador, though she notes, "Records? That's no fun at all."

GAME: Kran'dok contests his History/Romulan vs Moderate and Succeeds.

GAME: Jatila contests her History/Romulan vs Moderate and Fails.

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his History/Romulan+A vs Moderate and Marginally Succeeds.

K'net-mauri laughs at Jatila's comment.

"Unless I misremember," observes K'net-mauri, "Which is possible, I'm no great affecionado of the Ve'tar family, the only son of Revarin Ve'tar is the author of this program. So what he appears to be saying is that he is, in fact, the son of Sutara."

GAME: Jatila contests her Intellect/Logic vs Challenging and Fails.

GAME: K'net-mauri spends a courage point.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Intellect/Logic vs Challenging and Fails.

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his Intellect/Logic+A vs Challenging and Succeeds.

K'net-mauri folds his hands behind his back and looks down at the tiles, remarking, "A notion which might cause one to consider his introductory comments to this program in a different light."

Kran'dok grins slightly as some pieces begin to fall together. Finally he chuckles and speaks. "This is indeed a self indulgent departure from reality. As history will recall, the woman Jaitara killed herself after Sutara killed her husband, Revarin. The Ve'tar are no victims here. She did us all a favor if you ask me. Their son was the author of our program. The pair were actually married." The Romulan seems to be quite upset by all of this fiction.

. o O Donavon thinks, "Ah well. Wonder if I give her these sandals it'll make Chrissy happier. That is just a dress. Don't understand those women."

. o O Arzt thinks, "Okay, now what. Think, think of something intelligent, poised to say."

. o O Arzt feels nervous.

Jatila blinks at the Ambassador, tilting her head as she thinks back. "That does make sense," she murmurs, then her gaze comes up to Kran'dok again. She smiles, very slightly.

. o O Nabrun thinks, "Now to make sure the guests are comfortable. I'm not sure how women DO this."

"I'm sure your mother never mentioned it to you," says K'net-mauri in an absent-minded and distant way as he looks over the table, "But it is entirely possible for married women to bear the sons of men who are not their husbands, and to do so years before their husbands notice that said sons are not their own." He smiles a bit dryly, and doesn't look up from his contemplation of the tiles. "In any case, I suspect the key to this puzzle is to view things not with the madness of the Ve'tar, but with that of Sutara. The remaining question being, what are we supposed to look at that way?"

Dane steps into holodeck 2 from the Dream Factory.

Dane has arrived.

Jatila moves to join the Ambassador, chuckling at his dry comments. "That which isn't finished yet? What if we complete the mosaic?"

"There are more tiles here than are missing from the mosaic," K'net-mauri says. "But you could try if you like."

Kran'dok sighs and steps back to allow them a look at the mosaic. "They /were/ married. This is a false portrayl," he says almost falty.

"Explain?" K'net-mauri says, glancing at Kran'dok. "She was married to Sutara?"

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his Artistic Expression vs Challenging and Fails.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Artistic Expression vs Challenging and Succeeds.

. o O Park thinks, "Get in, say hello, get out. Stay focused. No spoiling the mood."

Kran'dok looks over their shoulders watches them examine the art work. "That will not get you very far. A mosaic is drawn out ahead of time. We will require the plans or the proer pieces. It is similar to a puzzle. This will be very difficult or impossible to piece together."

Jatila gestures dismissively. "Most of the mosaic is already complete. It shouldn't be /that/ difficult."

GAME: Dane contests her Artistic Expression vs Challenging and Automatically Fails.

K'net-mauri chuckles at Jatila. "It wouldn't be, if we had the right peices to go there."

Dane stand and watchs from the Uhlan's side she looks confused and little out of her depth here not having the history these Romulans have or the knowledge of it.

Jatila nods, glancing around. "Well they have to be here somewhere." She's starting to look, and sound, frustrated, and she begins to pace. "Incomplete impressions. Warrior father to a bastard son. An utter contempt for Orthodoxy. Ratar, odd wine, mosaic, amphitheater..."

GAME: Jatila contests her Intellect/Logic vs Moderate and Succeeds.

K'net-mauri looks at Jatila, his eyes a bit clouded -- he's not really watching her, just brooding and looking at her at the same time.

Dane glance at Jatila and K-net. "I'm beginning to realise you people are more complex then I gave you credit for. " There's a ghost of a smile in her face. "More human. " She adds.

"I wouldn't consider complexity a human trait," says K'net-mauri absently and rather dryly. He's too busy thinking to find that comment too annoying, but it's clear he's not pleased by it.

Dane looks a little sorry. "I was being nice sir, no affence was meant. " She says, she sighs and steps away from the little group.

Jatila pauses in her pacing. "What'd you say, Kran'dok? The plans?" She abruptly turns on one heel to stare toward the amphitheater. "Sound as color. He was trying to convey the sounds he could see. Redaro." Ignoring Dane's comment, she heads off in the direction she's looking.

K'net-mauri shakes his head to Jatila. "That's not it," he says. "That's a ruse."

Kran'dok places a reassuring hand on her shoulder for a moment. "Do not worry Mir. There is no offense. Just a note, we do not take kindly to being compared to other races," he whispers to her. He looks up just in time to see Jatila run off with an idea.

Jatila turns to walk backwards. "No," she calls. "Redaro was working on plans when Strell and I saw him. Lots of them. Blueprint types."

K'net-mauri shrugs and moves to follow after Jatila. "Did you see what they were?"

Dane nods her head at Kran'dok stepping out from under his hand and just hanging back. She looks a little tired and stressed. "I'm should have known that. " She says quietly.

Jatila shakes her head, turning so she can watch where she's walking again. Tripping would be rather ignominious.

And sure enough, a few moments later, Jatila is walking down the manicured stone steps to the amphitheater, K'net-mauri following behind. Sure enough, though neither Tavianus nor Redaro the Elder have returned, the furnishings remain on the small stage, including Redaro's small sack of papers.

Kran'dok nods and waits by the unfinished art work. "Well this is interesting at the very least and even I am learning quite a bit about our people. Well, maybe not learning so many facts as one's mad perceptions of reality. This could be a useful tool if the secret proves to be acurate."

"I'm not bored," replies K'net-mauri. "So it has served its purpose." He moves to look over the pages, but lets Jatila sort through them if she seems to want to.

"Very useful in the diplomatic field," Jat quips in response to Kran'dok, settling down to go through the sack. If nothing else, the papers are likely entertaining to some degree.

. o O Arzt thinks, "Wow, I hope they're really happy together."

. o O Arzt feels happy for them.

Kran'dok chuckles. "Well, in that case this program may have already accomplished the seemingly impossible." He turns to the Ambassador with a bit of a grin. He slowly walks over to examine the pieces more closely incase Jatila turns something up.

K'net-mauri looks over Jatila's shoulder as she looks through the papers. He says to Kran'dok, "Usually I'm only pretending to be half-asleep."

GAME: Jatila contests her Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Succeeds.

. o O Arzt thinks, "I should probably go."

. o O Arzt feels a little uncomfortable.

Dane wonders closer to the group and peers down at what they are looking at she blink and looks up unsure. "I'm very good with this detective stuff. " She says softly smiling around at the three other faces.

. o O Park feels a sense of contentment and happiness, though not for himself. These emotions, though, seem to be almost forced, or at least highly focused on.

Kran'dok nods knowingly. "Oh, I have realized that sir, but simply pretending to be half-asleep has a way of making it so. Force a smile for a few weeks and see just how much better you strangely feel."

"I'm afraid I don't want to feel better," says K'net-mauri. "I feel quite well. And I have a good deal of practice in pretending to be asleep without falling asleep. It's very useful." He looks at Dane. "What have your detecting skills told you?"

Dane shakes her head. "I'm not very good sir. " She says. "Sorry, I must have spoken too softly. " She says with a sheepish grin. "I'm not detective at all, give me an injuried person sure. "

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Well I was not suggesting it as a practice, merely as an example of practical Psychology."

Jatila flips, flips, flips through papers silently. One she starts to pass, then she goes back to it, and pulls it from the bunch. "Close... Sir?" She glances up at the Ambassador, straightening the rolling parchment to reveal the diagram of a mural depicting some te'rak running through an orchard of fruit trees. Obviously the inspiration for the mosaic, except that the trees look different, darker, with rich blue berries rather than the sickly green fruit.

K'net-mauri frowns, looking at it. "Very close," he says. A pause. "Sutara was wearing the wrong colours. Green where he would ordinarily have worn blue. The wrong house insignia, as well."

Jatila blinks. "And the wine. It was green, instead of the blue it should have been. Like ichor, remember?"

Dane nods her head suddenly at Jatila. "Wasn't there green fruit on a tree also?" She asks softly. "Is this man really in the house he says he is?" She says thinking out loud.

K'net-mauri nods to Jatila. "Yes."

Kran'dok thinks for a moment. "Are the 'sounds' of these colors significant? A scream? A child's cry?"

"I don't think so," K'net-mauri tells Kran'dok. "I don't think the sounds of the colours in this program have anything to do with it."

"In the mosaic," Jat nods to Dane, then she shakes her head. "I don't know the sounds of them. I don't have the disease they do, Kran'dok."

Dane looks confused again and doesn't comment more. "I think I'm no help here. " She says softly and sighs. "I know little of this era. "

Kran'dok chuckles. "But that could be the madness of the program, to see the world as they do. To truely understand them or to be corrupted by them." He shrugs a little. "There has to be some devious trick to all of this. Something to throw into the face of every loyal Romulan."

K'net-mauri shakes his head to Kran'dok. "If what the holoprogram revealed is so, then its creator does not suffer that madness."

Jatila says wryly, "Well, what do you know of Synesthesia, Doctor?" Heck, Redaro's the one that suggested asking any physician.

GAME: Dane contests her Medical Sciences vs Moderate and Succeeds.

Dane ahhs softly and smiles. "That I do know. " She says coming a little closer. "It's where to sense over lap. " She explains. "Like some people can smell a color, or tates a word. It's heredittary from what I know and Vulcan's when they experiance it do so very strongly. " She looks a little weary when she carries on. "SO it may be the same with Romulan's. "

K'net-mauri shakes his head and looks through the rest of the papers.

Jatila nods. "Yes." She rises to move out of the Ambassador's way, contemplating the little stage. "The curse of the Ve'tar. Green where there would be blue..." Her brow furrows, and she mutters something about Fimdari, but shakes her head.

K'net-mauri lifts his head and looks at Jatila abruptly.

Jatila catches the look, and shakes her head. "Ignore me. Just thinking of blue things. Andorians are at the top of that list."

. o O Jatila thinks, "It would be rather neat to watch Ghorev turn that sickly green. His expression would be priceless." She chuckles. "Okay, Jat, back on track now."

Kran'dok scoffs slightly and asks no one in particular, "At the top of the list of /things/?" He sighs and begins to look at some of the plans and the scenery, noting the colors.

K'net-mauri nods to Jatila. "They were mentioned, by one of the holograms. But it doesn't make sense to suppose that's the meaning of the colour change."

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Intellect/Perception vs Moderate and Fails.

Dane looks yet again confused. "What do Andorians have to do with your people, have you close relations with them?" she asks, keeping tone leveled.

Jatila lifts a brow. "Mentioned in what context?"

"Their founding membership with the Federation," says K'net-mauri. "And the treaty of Cheron."

. o O Donavon thinks, "Lass, we've had our ins and outs, but this is one time, I'm *glad* Alek didn't listen to my angered advice. You made a beautiful wife."

Jatila snorts softly. "Now that /is/ ironic. If the Andorians hadn't banded with the rest, Federation space /would/ be green right now. Ours." She shakes her head. "Anyhow... No, Doctor, we haven't."

K'net-mauri nods to Jatila, "Indeed," he says. "And that is just what the hologram said."

Dane nods her head glad she wasn't missing anything here. "I'm sorry I don't understand what do you mean, green in stead of blue?"

Jatila blinks again. "Now we're getting rather esoteric..." She glances toward Dane, and explains bluntly, "If your people hadn't banded with the Andorians and the others to form the Federation, you would have been conquered by the Star Empire centuries ago. Green is sort of 'our' color."

Kran'dok chuckles. "Yes, the Federation would be under our protection. Green, for Romulan and not bule for Federation or Andorian. Now that would be interesting."

Dane oh's softly and shrugs, she really doesn't see that as a bad thing. "Well, I'm syre I wouldn't have been so concerned now. " She says and her eyes are on the Uhlan when she speaks. "Would have made like simpler. " She mutters, turning back to look at the pages also.

"Such a conclusion implies..." K'net-mauri murmurs, and breaking off mid-sentance and scowling.

. o O Green helpfully supplies the ball and chain image, with Barana's face on the ball, and the chain tighly locked on Alek's ankle.

Jatila tilts her head, looking toward the Ambassador. "What?"

K'net-mauri shakes his head, "Nothing that makes sense," he says.

Jatila spreads her hands wide. "As opposed to any of this?"

K'net-mauri laughs. "True enough."

. o O Jatila thinks, "I know that look. Damnit. He's avoiding the answer."

Kran'dok frowns. "I am missing something here. There is something about the colors in the program around us and on these prints. It feels like some clues are going unnoticed," he says disappointed in himself. "Does anyone else have any ideas or notice something?"

Jatila looks around at all of them. "We agreed that any secret revealed here would remain just that- a secret, here, among us." Her gaze returns to the Ambassador.

K'net-mauri nods, "Yes," he tells Jatila. "But probably this holoprogram is not saying that Sutara Kaytale was an agent of the Andorians."

Jatila blinks. "Mmmm, that would be quite out of the realm of what the author is trying to tell us, yes. I think." She goes back to pacing. "So. Why was he wearing the wrong house insignia? Unless, of course, it wasn't truly wrong at all." Jat reaches up to rub her temples.

Dane looks around also, looking towards the Uhlan. "What are you trying to look for?" she says softly. "I'm as lost here, as you are it seems. Blue, Green Andorians Romulans. It's just not clicking. " She says softly. "Did something turns the course of events when the Andorians joined the federation?" She asks.

"It wasn't wrong," says K'net-mauri. "It was just the wrong colour."

"Yes, Doctor." Jat doesn't explain the entire historical significance though. "Just the wrong color. Of all the things in here to be the wrong color, that one ranks right up there. This is all about family. Secret lovers, dynasties of artists and warriors, children bred on the wrong side of the bed."

Kran'dok frowns as he looks towards the Trill for help. "I get the feeling that there is something significant about the colors in this scene," he says as he walks around taking in the scenery again. "As for the Andorians I do not know what they could have to do with this." He shakes his head very disappointed with himself. "I may be a security officer but apparently I am no detective. I hate failiure."

. o O Kran'dok feels disappointed and ashamed.

K'net-mauri shrugs. He sits down where the mad master of the amphetheatre was sitting before and says, "It's about just what treacherous act did lead to Kayton killing Sutara Kaytale, probably," he says.

Jatila blinks at her mentor. "Ah." That explains a lot about his reaction to the Andorian thing. She contemplates a moment. "What killed Relath? He was still fairly young, wasn't he? Not much older than you, sir."

K'net-mauri nods to Jatila. "That's true. And I don't know what killed him, precisely. Illness."

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his Intellect/Perception vs Routine and Succeeds.

Jatila shifts uncomfortably. "Secrets that the Orthodoxy would disapprove, but that supposedly learned Federation men would pay deeply for..."

Dane leans against a support and folds her arms. "Can someone just recap a moment here, I know I'm missing something is everyone else. " She says, looking around. "Maybe we need to sit back and get all the clues together. I know I use that in the medical bay when something confuses me. "

K'net-mauri looks out across the holographic landscape from the old artist's place and raises an eyebrow at something he can see through the trees. He then scowls at it, looking sharply, and replies absently, "That's supposedly the pay off, Jatila. His advice about how to get it was to try to see things through the eyes of his father. Who probably doesn't much care if things that ought be blue are green or if things that ought be purple are orange. Oh, and 'keep to the path, but it's wider than your steps,' or whatever it was he said."

Jatila glances toward Dane, and shrugs. "At this point, I'm not even sure which clues are true clues." Catching the boss' sharp look in the corner of her eye, she looks toward him, then shifts to see what he's watching.

GAME: Jatila contests her Medical Sciences vs Moderate and Succeeds.

Kran'dok nods. "Excellent idea Doctor. That is a valid strategy for solving any sort of problem," he says with a bit of a grin.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Medical Sciences/Psychology vs Moderate and Fails.

GAME: Dane contests her Medical Sciences+D vs Moderate and Succeeds.

GAME: Dane contests her Life Sciences+D vs Routine and Fails.

Dane holds up her hands here as something comes to mind. "You people suffer from color blindness like every other race. What if we're dealing with someone whom is?" she asks, looking around. "Maybe it's affecting blue green?"

:looks at Dane, "If so, so what?"

K'net-mauri looks at Dane, "If so, so what?"

Jatila pauses, and slowly turns, staring at Dane. "It does. I mean, colorblind Romulans see that way. Blue becomes... green..." Excitement enters her eyes. "And it's passed along the male gene. If /Sutara/ had it, then Relath may have as well," the words start to tumble from her. "And the mad sound-colors that Redaro was trying to change, he was trying to reverse the curse. It would have been obvious that Relath saw the same way that Sutara did. In /his father's eyes/. Sutara's perspective."

Dane blinks. "Maybe that's why the colors are... " She trails off and looks down at the floor, feeling foolish for speaking up.

Kran'dok gives the Doctor a subtle but reassuring nod. "Good work Mir. Do not be so shy. We are all friends here and must all pool our ideas in order to reach the best possible conclusion." He turns and listens quietly to Jatila.

K'net-mauri lifts a brow at Jatila. "Redaro was trying to change what?" A little pause, "I see your point, but again, what do you propose to do with this information?"

Jatila whirls toward the Ambassador. "Redaro considered their disease a curse, one that had sent House Ve'Tar into decline, seen only as mad artists. He was trying to reverse that... social effect, become a great family to rival even a Senator's. Relash was the supposed last of the Ve'Tar's. Except, of course, he wasn't one at all," she smiles wryly, then she says, "Other colors are seen differently too. Like... colorblind men will see purple as a sort of orange-gold. Seen anything oddly-colored like that around here?"

K'net-mauri nods, "The lake," he says, gesturing past the tree-line. "And it would certainly explain Sutaro's outfit."

Dane looks up finally, moving to Kran'dok side she leans against him. "Are people like that helped or slandered. I mean would he be an outcaste. I'm sorry I know little of your culture I'm trying to understand a few things here. "

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his Intellect/Logic vs Routine and Marginally Fails.

Jatila's eyebrows lift. "What lake?" She turns to peer toward the trees, then strides that way.

Kran'dok frowns a little and looks at Dane. "While not damning, the defect is damaging. Should the parents wish, before the age of 5 and the d'sora ceremony, the child could be euthenized, but that is normally reserved for far greater maladies," he says flatly. "Such an occurance is rare these days, but a possibility."

"In most cases, neither," K'net-mauri tells Dane, flatly. He gets to his feet and follows after Jatila, looking a bit dubious about it.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "I hope that does not set her off again. Please understand Mir. I would never do that to one of our children."

Unfortunately, try as she might, Jat finds herself going in circles, the program leading her back to the amphitheater. After the third time, she lets out an exasperated noise, glances around, and turns to skip up to the stage, to where the Ambassador had been sitting, to hope for a glimpse.

Dane nods her head slowly and tries to hide the shock of the males words. "I see, I surpose, in some cases it's not good at all. The child woul be better off. " she says slowly. "It's not something I could say until faced with. "

"He said to keep to the path," K'net-mauri observes. "We'll get no where. The only suggestion I can think of is to look for a hidden path that we will see only when standing at some location Sutaro was occupying earlier."

Kran'dok looks at the Trill. "I do not expect you to accept it, but thank you for trying." He gives the woman another look then slowly begins to wander off in the direction the Ambassador indicated. "I was thinking we may have missed something. I will go search the tree line for a hidden path or clue." The Uhlan makes his way over there and begins to search.

Jatila glances toward her mentor. "Alright." She calls, "Kran'dok..." Then shakes her head. He'll find out.

K'net-mauri gives Jatila a wry look and proceeds to the other end of the program, taking his time about it and looking for details.

Kran'dok returns only a few moments later looking just a little surprised. It seems he ended up in the amphitheater again, not having expected to. He sees the Ambassador going and falls in behind him, motioning for Mir to join them if she has not started yet.

Jatila glances back once to send Kran'dok a wink, then turns to follow the Ambassador's path and lead.

Dane nods her head and sighs softly, she's getting brainache here and thought her self to be a pretty smart woman. It seems she's been proving herself wrong.

GAME: K'net-mauri spends a courage point.

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his Intellect/Logic+A vs Moderate and Fails.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Intellect/Logic vs Moderate and Fails.

GAME: Jatila spends a courage point.

GAME: Jatila contests her Intellect/Logic+A vs Moderate and Succeeds.

GAME: Dane contests her Intellect/Logic vs Moderate and Succeeds.

. o O Green thinks, "If they're elastic enough."

Jatila glances down toward the mosaic as the group passes over it, then back up, but a few seconds later she pauses, and takes a slow look around. "Um... Sir?"

K'net-mauri stops, "Yes?" he inquires, following the woman's gaze.

Jatila turns to head back toward the mosaic. "The blue to green was pretty obvious. The wine, the insignia, even that fruit the servant was serving when we first arrived here. But... what if /everything/ was affected? Not just the noticeable color changes, but the whole spectrum." She gestures widely, indicating the surroundings. "What if it /all/ has to be seen as colorblind Sutara would see it, to see the answer?"

Dane nods her head slowly. "He was trying to make those around him colorblind to or were the people around him trying to hide the fact he was?"

K'net-mauri nods to Jatila, "What other 'wrong' colour perceptions are seen by men with this condition?" he asks. "I know nothing about it."

Jatila shakes her head. "I don't know. The blue-green and purple-orange is what they use just to test for the damn symptom. The visual tests are rather neat, in their own way. But limited. Can we... Would the computer know enough to change the surroundings accurately? Or are we going to have to get a colorblind Vulcanoid in here? Or somebody else who can see like that."

Kran'dok groans slightly as the pieces he was trying to put together just a bit earlier finally fall into place. He listens in careful contemplation as the others speak.

Dane laughs softly at Jatila. "I'm sure the computer might be able to humor us, or maybe start with the things we know are not right and work our way from there?"

K'net-mauri shrugs. "Only if the computer knows. Surely the test, for it to work, must not measure what someone percieves differently -- he would merely call his purple, orange, 'purple'. It must measure the subjects ability to see a difference at all."

Kran'dok looks over at Mir and Jatila. "Would you two be able to work together to adjust the program for the proper wavelengths? It should be easy enough given the proper knowledge. We should be able to look up the differences in the databanks."

Dane looks to Jatila. "I have no problems at all. " She says smiling at the woman. "Attache?" She asks respectfully.

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his Intellect/Logic+A vs Routine and Succeeds.

Jatila starts to tug on her fake topknot a bit, curling it around her fingers as- yep, there she goes, pacing again. "No, the tests... Colored dots are used to make up two different images. One is detectable by those with normal vision, one by those who are colorblind..." Pause. "Wait." She looks around, then she says slowly, "We're seeing things as Relash saw them. Green wine and all. Except for one, just one thing, in this entire program." SHe looks at K'net-mauri.

K'net-mauri nods to Jatila. "Exactly. We are all colour-blind in this program. Or have been since early in it, when the wine became green. But what is this one thing?"

Kran'dok shrugs. "The color of our skin? Every Romulan here has been green. Should they be swithced with blue?"

Jatila grins wryly. "Redaro's diagram, showing the mural. The one this," she gestures toward the mosaic, and the green fruit on the trees therein, "Is based on. On the paper, /the berries were blue/."

K'net-mauri grimaces. "Maybe they're really green," he says.

GAME: Dane contests her Life Sciences vs Routine and Fails.

Jatila shakes her head. "No, green doesn't become blue." Not a medical person, she searches for the right words. "Colorblind people see a... a shifted spectrum. The shift only goes in one direction."

Dane shakes her head and sighs. "I don't think I'm any help here at all, I don't know your neurophysiology here I'm sorry I'm not much help. " She says softly. "Maybe we need to get outside help?"

Kran'dok grins and reaches for his PADD. "Would this do Doctor?"

Dane blinks at the Uhlan and holds out her hand. "I can learn it in a few minutes. " She says.

"Not a bit of it," K'net-mauri tells Dane, amiably. He looks back to Jatila. "Do they? If that was the case, then I ought to bleed yellow, no?"

GAME: Dane contests her Computer/Research vs Routine and Succeeds.

Dane was being scarcasic and looks surprised when she looks down at the padd. "I wasn't being serious. " She mutters.

Jatila glances briefly toward Dane, though her words are meant for all. "Each individual shift, I mean. So." She tilts her head. "/If/ Sutara is colorblind, and /if/ Relash is his son, and /if/ Relash inherited the syndrome- Well, he had to go well out of his way to create a diagram with blue in it."

Dane looks down at the Padd and rasies another eyebrow. "Jatila, I'm sorry to say but colorblindness is passed through the mother's line. " She says softly handing it other. "Does that bring anything into light?"

"But," says K'net-mauri, "The authors introduction advised us that we would solve the program only by seeing things as his father saw them. Since we appear to be colour-blind in this routine, it would seem we already are."

Jatila shrugs. "Yes, if all those ifs are true."

Jatila turns her gaze to Dane. "Yes, it is." She pauses. "Oh, I said the male gene earlier, didn't I. Sorry, misspoke. It's males that suffer from it. Colorblind women are rare, but they do pass it on, yes." Another pause. "Hmmm."

Dane shakes her head and lays a hand on Jatila shoulder. "It's fine, I have been over my depth in here also. It was easily done. "

K'net-mauri shrugs to Jatila, "Only the if about Sutara's colour-blindness. I don't doubt Dane's information and we ought to conclude that Relath was not. So he was correct in his introduction -- perhaps it is an imperfect impression of how his father saw things, and he simply turned blue things green in this program. And appearantly forgot, in some instances. Or deliberately forgot in some instances. The blue berries. And the blue tiles. Perhaps the key is what you guessed right away -- the missing tiles."

Jatila smiles faintly. "Mouth got ahead of brain, is all." She nods toward the Ambassador, thoughtful. "There were parts of the diagram that aren't shown here in the mosaic," she muses. "There's something here, just out of reach... Relash /did/ see this way." She glances around with a dry smile. "His father didn't. Daddy had normal vision, I'm betting, just like Red-what's-his-name." She sighs. "Or maybe not. The son saw an imperfect impression of his father's whole world. Hell, I don't know. I feel like I'm going round in circles now."

K'net-mauri looks at the mosaic again. "What else is missing?" he asks Jatila.

Dane nods her head. "I know how you feel, maybe he was trying to show the world what his father saw?" she says. "Make them understand what it was like to go through what he did. An imperfect imagine of colors. Green seems important for your people. "

Jatila looks dubious, but she pulls out the diagram again, and gets down on the ground to start comparing it with the mosaic. "This'd be so much easier if it were all black and white," she mutters, then snickers at her own words. "Of course, everything would."

K'net-mauri looks over Jatila's shoulder, but speaks to Dane, "I don't think he's trying to tell us what it's like to be colour-blind. I don't think he knew. I think he deliberately made some things appear to us as if we were colour-blind, as a clue to a visual puzzle that only a colour-blind man would easily solve."

Dane oh's softly and nods her head. "I see, yes that makes sense. "

Kran'dok finally comes over to have a look for himself. He examines the progress made then looks back to the plans for a few moments. "Sometimes there are clues that can be gained from the artist's technique. Are there any other mosaics of his here or plans we could compare with?"

Jatila starts pointing out the missing portions with murmurs. Empty space on the mural that equates to white tiles, tree bark (brown), ter'ak fur- gold, and some of the ubiquitous fruit, blue on the paper, green on the tiles.

K'net-mauri shrugs to Jatila. "May as well try it, since we're not getting attacked by hawks or historical figures. It seems a little simple to theorize that if you place a blue tile in the gap where it seems a green one ought to go, and a purple one in place of a gold, so completing the mosaic, then something will happen. But what the hell."

. o O Kran'dok feels slightly anxious and on edge.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Alright, best be ready. I refuse to accept that nothing dangerous can happen. I will not allow something to happen to the Ambassador or her."

Kran'dok stands up and steps away slightly, taking one last look about his surroundings to ensure all is still quiet before they make their move. He seems to be getting ready just in case something /does/ happen.

Jatila nods, pushing up from her belly to kneel back. "Oh, I agree, that does seem simplistic. I think we're supposed to find a way to see all of this," she indicates the surroundings, "With 'normal' vision." She looks up at the Ambassador, frustrated. "You realize that one person couldn't do this alone, don't you? Solve this riddle, I mean. We had to have somebody that could defeat a very skilled warrior," a gesture toward Kran'dok, then one toward Dane, "A biomedical expert, and to deal with several different ongoing scenes at once, as when Strell and I were in the amphitheater while you and the others were listening to a conversation about the Treaty of Cheron."

Dane comes to settle down near the other woman and watchs carefully.

K'net-mauri shrugs. "The conversation about the Treaty of Cheron came to live at the same time I came upon it, probably if we'd all stayed together all of us would have heard the entire performances at both locations. But perhaps not. In any case, yes, it is a difficult riddle." He looks around again. "But I don't think we need to attempt to alter the program to solve it."

Jatila gets to her feet, rolling up the diagram. "If one person were meant to solve it, then two different portions would have been prevented from playing at the same time. So. What /do/ we need to do, sir?"

K'net-mauri smiles at Jatila. "I have offered my suggestion. Is there something else you can think of that we can change or do, on this little path, since we have now appearantly exhausted our supply of historical personages? What ought we to look at from the artist's father's eyes?"

Kran'dok shrugs. "If the secret is something meant to change our perceptions or ideas that might be the way to go. That would be a significant change and might be enough to set some things in motion again."

Dane shakes her head as lost as they appear to be. "I'm not sure. "

K'net-mauri shrugs at Kran'dok. "It might not," he says. "We may have missed some window of opportunity." But regardless, he heads down the path to the arch to collect the selection of tiles that are among the rocks, pausing before he picks any up to study the positions that the holographic hero left them in.

Jatila's shoulders slump. "I don't know..." Boy, she hates being stonewalled. Real loathing hate.

K'net-mauri collects the stacks of tiles and ambles back, lazily. He starts placing them in the mosaic in that unhurried, mildly brain-damaged sort of patient way often used by old men. Yep. He's puttering. He places the brown and white tiles in spots where brown and white tiles ought to go, but switches the blues and greens. Since his supply doesn't include any purples, the ter'ak's gold fur gets filled in with gold tiles.

Jatila settles down to watch her mentor putter. A hand steals behind her back, fingers crossing.

Kran'dok patiently watches the man place the pieces. He silently notes that one of the pieces they had intended to place is of a different color.

Jatila leans forward after a moment, then points out deferentially, "Sir? Blue to green, not green to blue. One way shift, remember?"

K'net-mauri pauses, and looks at Jatila. He lifts a brow. "You mean a one step along the spectrum shift for only one colour, not the entire array, that is how it works?" A glance down at the tiles in his hands, "That certainly makes this little exercise seem slightly more sensible." He left the whole blue-green business to the last and he now steps over to Jatila and drops his collection of blue tiles at her feet. That done, he carrys on with his puttering, tossing the one or two blue tiles he already set down in Jatila's direction. And in a teasing sort of way that'll make them hit her in the head if she doesn't dodge or bat them out of the air.

Kran'dok chuckles as he watches the Ambassador putter about the mosaic. He would not dare interrupt the man's fun.

Within a few minutes, the work is done. But nothing *seems* different...

Jatila blinks, ducking instinctively at first, then she starts to catch the tile pieces, setting them down. "You're hilarious," she mumbles. "I mean, blue shifts to green, but green doesn't shift to blue. Maybe I should have said 'one-way road', as far as those colors go. And since purple changes to orangeish, cause it's mostly a blue color, I really wouldn't dare guess at the rest of the spectrum."

GAME: K'net-mauri contests his Intellect/Logic vs Moderate and Succeeds.

GAME: Jatila contests her Intellect/Logic vs Moderate and Succeeds.

GAME: Kran'dok contests his Intellect/Logic vs Moderate and Succeeds.

K'net-mauri ignores Jatila's objection to having things thrown at her, and says, "You did say one-way. The trouble is, if everything shifts, I cannot repair the mosaic in a manner consistant with that. Never mind. I misunderstood something. You're commendable, even if you are impatient with silly games like this." He looks at the completed mosaic, and then at the surrounding program.

Jatila blushes. Greenly.

Jatila turns a blue tile over in her hand, giving it a thoughtful look. "Mmmm, he didn't finish the mosaic. That's what you're doing. Except we already know he would have seen it as normal, cause otherwise he couldn't have made the mural the right colors. Sooooo," and she's hesitant in putting this theory forth, "He must have made everything the right way first, then converted the colors. Maybe you should."

Kran'dok nods thoughtfully. "So it is not the end result that he is looking for, rather the process in getting there perhaps?"

Jatila nods. "Go deliberately from the 'right' vision, to the father's."

K'net-mauri lifts a brow at Jatila. "You think I should arrange it properly and then get the computer to alter its colour scheme? I doubt you have to alter the program to solve it, and if this mosaic solves the game, so to speak, it seems odd to have its solution be accomplishable by someone who is unaware of Sutaro's colour-blindness. I don't need to know that to put complete it correctly." He moves to do so, anyway.

Jatila spreads her hands. "Or put the blue pieces in first, then replace them with green, yes. You'd still have to know about the color-blindness to make such a leap."

K'net-mauri shrugs. "All right," he says. "Well, help. This project is geting tedious."

And when the last blue piece is properly laid down, replacing the green pieces already set down by the Romulan Ambassador, a curious thing happens. The scenery itself remains completely still. But then a small voice: "Excuse me, Sirs. Madame." A small *boy's* voice. "Would you like some wine?"

K'net-mauri looks around for the speaker.

Jatila's lips twitch, and she suppresses a smile as she moves to assist. And... Jat looks up at the young voice.

The serving boy stands there, with a single goblet of the odd, sickly green wine on his tray.

Kran'dok turns to look for the servant boy he expects to see. "Are we to presume this is safe to drink and that we should have some?" he asks the others.

K'net-mauri smiles at the child. "I suppose I would," he says. "Thank you. Who sends it?"

Jatila kneels back, just giving a nod at Kran's first question.

The boy says, "The last master of the Ve'tars." He looks confused by the question, but the answer comes easily enough.

K'net-mauri takes the glass, nodding.

Kran'dok reaches for one of his own. He lifts the glass to his lips, gives a sniff and swirls it around to test its consistency.

Jatila considers the boy for a moment, then glances briefly skyward.

K'net-mauri inhales the fragrange of the wine, and has a taste and a swallow of the stuff, fairly unconcerned with the off colour.

Kran'dok finishes his careful observation of the Ambassador's glass then grins as he notices where Jatila's has drifted. He opts to carefully search the tree line and path with his eyes.

As soon as K'net-mauri begins to drink, the boy scampers off, heading out of sight.

Jatila's eyebrows arch. "... That was... brief."

K'net-mauri shrugs a bit and offers the glass to Jatila. "I suppose something else is bound to happen."

Jatila takes the glass. "We had to trigger that somehow." She glances down toward the tiles. "Blue. Now for green?"

Jatila takes the glass. "We had to trigger that somehow." She glances down toward the tiles. "Blue. Now for green?"

Kran'dok glances back to the other two Romulans and the glass. He nods again to Jatila. "It seems this portion is done, unless you wish to search the rest of the program."

K'net-mauri lifts a brow at Jatila. "What do you mean?"

"Well the second you put that last blue piece down, we were offered wine," Jat points at the mosaic. "But that's still the author's perspective, not his father's." She glances toward Kran'dok.

"Asking me to re-tile this place is a bit much," says K'net-mauri. "The holographic wine is perfectly tolerable, by the way."

Kran'dok shrugs. "Well, I certianly understand if you do not want to know this terrible and seditious secret sir," he says with a bit of a grin. "Perhaps if we replaced the last blue piece we could get some more wine. Or we could all work to change back to green pieces."

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "This whole experiment has been highly suspect. It would be dangerous in the hands of some one who could not sepparate fact from fiction in these cases."

Jatila snickers quietly, absently taking a sip herself. "Tastes very good, as a matter of fact. This puzzle-solving is thirsty work. Come on, Uhlan," she says, settling on the ground. "Let's change the blue to green."

"Go for it," K'net-mauri tells Kran'dok. "It appears I have no colour-sense, and I've only managed to identify a mechanism to manipulate the thing, not understood it."

Kran'dok inclines his head and follows after Jatila to get to work changing the pieces again. "Well, she was right only a few moments ago. I say that she deserves another chance based on that performance." The Romulan grins as he begins to carefully change out the pieces.

K'net-mauri reclaims the wine, sips it, and passes it around casually as he starts rearranging tiles again.

"I get to be right at least twice a week. It's in the gender contract." Jat gives the mosaic a thoughtful look, then takes the goblet when it's passed her way again. "Hey guys? Didn't the Senators... spill...?" And she does, deliberately pouring the green wine over the tiles.

And, except for the tiles the two men have already begun changing out, the rest, in fact, start to turn from blue to green as the wine passes over them.

K'net-mauri laughs at Jatila's discovery. "The bastard. They did."

Kran'dok shrugs again. "Well anything is worth a try at this point. We can not spend the rest of our lives here." He begins to reach for the glass to take a sip himself when things seem to change again. "Well that is interesting. It seems we do not need to alter the program at all. Satisfied sir?" he asks with a bit of a grin.

Jatila sits up. "Fascinating," she murmurs, glancing about.

In fact, on closer inspection, the ones changed by the wine now look to be 'secured' down in spot. As if they had been glued in place, as well.

K'net-mauri smiles at Kran'dok. "No, I'm not. I'll be daylight when it's done, he said. I suppose we may have spoiled it by rearranging the tiles too many times. If that's the case, we may have a struggle between 'not satisfied' and 'sick of it.'" He looks at the changed tiles, flicks a few of his rearranged ones back into their 'proper' place.

The tiles that were 'always' green flick away at the Romulan Ambasasdor's fingertips. The ones that were blue and then changed to green by the wine remain in place. That does make getting rid of the 'wrong' ones rather quick going.

Jatila says in a low voice, "At this point, I refuse to accept 'sick of it'." Stubborn wench.

Kran'dok follows suit after the Ambassador. "Take care, we only have one glass right now," he says as he watches the wine pour out over the tiles. He hurridly begins to replace the tiles which do not cement themselves down.

And with Kran'dok making that effort, soon, the flicked away tiles are replaced by blue ones. There is, yes, a bit more wine remaining in Jatila's goblet.

K'net-mauri nods to Jatila as he finishes his repairs. He says, "I'm at about that same point."

Jatila offers the Ambassador the glass. "Would you like to do the honors, sir?"

K'net-mauri smiles at Jatila. "I'm sure I've spilled more than my fair share of intoxicants already. Have at it."

Jatila chuckles and, ever so carefully- limited resources- pours.

Kran'dok finishes the obvious repairs and watches as Jatila continues to pour.

And the last few pieces flow to green, from blue.

And that is when the torches are snuffed, and the half-forested, ruined villa, is lit only by moonlight for a moment, which then becomes day as the sun rises over Rom'lass. In the intervening shift of night to day, the visitors to the holoroutine are, once again, no longer alone. Stamding a few meters off, each holding a musical instrument in hand, are the five masters of the House of Ve'tar who have appeared in this program since it began -- Redaro the Elder, who founded the house when Khan Noonian Singh ruled on Earth, almost 400 years ago; Re'kan the Admiral, who negotiated the Treaty of Cheron; Revash and Revarin, who seem to have been the last two true Masters of the House; and Relath, now seemingly Relath the Pretender, who bore the family's name but was not of its blood, if this short play and longer puzzle is to be believed.

It is Relath who steps forward, still wearing the white garb of the prologue. "It se