Rebellion's Seeds

 Episode Name:  Rebellion's Seeds

   Written By:  Eidolon

         Cast:  Dane, Donavon, Dovoro, Eidolon, Gr'laH, Harris, Kran'dok, Park and Randal.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Eidolon

     Aired On:  Wed Jul 20 21:24:57 2005

     Stardate:  55129.6

Time: Wed Jul 20 19:11:00 2005

Stardate: 55129.4

Drydock 18's barracks have an attached cafeteria where the convicts are allowed to eat some form of grey glop which the Andorians guarding the facility claim is 'nutrient paste', but they refuse to discuss what actually goes into said paste, or what makes it nutritious. But, it is better to eat than nothing at all, and tonight finds several of the extra-universal prisoners trapped within -- including Megan Donavon, who has been allowed to sit with the group this evening by the evil overseer, Moroko Torin.

Kran'dok finds a seat as close as possible to his associates. Again he keeps his head down and hair over his face as he makes a face at the paste. He catches the expression and wipes it off his face. He chooses to ignore the guards and settle down to a nice meal of paste.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "This is degrading. A Romulan deserves better. Slave labor and nutrient paste?!? Not even our most difficult client state gets such poor treatment."

Randal wanders away from the serving line with his monochromatic blob of 'food.' "Hey," he comments with wry amusement to the whichever prisoners happen to be in the same vicinity at the time. "Isn't this the same stuff we're using to cement hull segments together?" He grins, clearly trying to ingratiate himself with the other prisoners in the complex with his commentary. Noticing Kran'dok, he tries to maneuver himself to a seat nearby.

Park gets his own tray, glancing around the room briefly before heading towards the table that the rest of his group seem to occupy. Pointedly, he doesn't look at the tray as he goes.

There's some light grumbling at Randal's attempt at humor, especially from the area the Klingons have claimed as their turf.

Donavon's bowl of paste turns cold the more it remains untouched. A glimmer of color amongst a field of grays, the emerald clad declared harem girl sits stiffly upon her chair, placed at the end of the table. Behind the veil, her eyes seek out Moroko Torin's observational position and attempts to stare the man down in defiance. She smirks and murmurs to herself, "No inches."

. o O Donavon thinks, "Better devise a new plan, Moroko Torin. I won't give you the advantage."

Kran'dok silently notes as the others approach. "Good evening gentlemen," he mumbles into his food. "Any interesting news today? I think I have spoken with most of you, though I could use a few more words with Randal possibly. Conducting business is quite difficult here. Where can I lodge a complaint?"

Dane comes walking in from the door in the lounge she's also been allowed to sit with Donavon as a rewards and is flagged by a pair of guard whom roughly push her into the line then move to take up watch up postions. She gets her bowl of food and quickly moves to sit by the woman. She keeps her eyes downcast.

"Tough crowd," Randal remarks. Noticing that Meg is also in the cafeteria, he amends his seating plans to try and get a seat next to her in addition to being near the others, assuming it's still an option.

"I heard a lot of welding.", Park replies as he slides onto the bench. "Not much of anything else today that's the least bit useful." The bowl is set down in front of him as he studies the women.

The low rumble of conversation fills the cafeteria, rising and falling in waves. There's no laughter, though, just muted tension.

Donavon rolls her eyes in a grand display of disappointment. Beneath the table her foot swings to make contact with Dane's thigh. Attention hopefully gained, she leans slightly to the left. Donavon whispers to Dane, "Doctor, eyes up. Never show them your submission." Her chin lowers in an instructional manner before eyes glance to the right where the majority of the 'boys' have sat.

Dane shakes her head and looks up. "Sorry, I can't help it if I make eye contact thet think I'm flirt. " She sudders. "I saw them today. " She says her voice hint of excitment, because she hasn't realised their here as well.

Kran'dok nods ever so slightly. "Me either. I was actually hoping to learn a little bit about where we are. I do not even know why we are in the Andorian's keeping, who this Emire is or anything else." There is a hint of frustration in his voice, but he catches it and lets the emotion slip out. "Do you know anything," he asks both the others.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "This information may never prove useful, but I think it would make one good report for the Colonel. My career has stalled since that invasion and I need to get back on track. This might be just what I need. The others should be useful tools to find out more wheter they want to help or not."

Donavon heaves a sigh. Donavon whispers to Dane, "Doctor, how many women are in this room? I count two. They'll claim you're flirting because you dress provocatively. At least keep your dignity. Chin up." Her finger reaches out to tap Dane's chin, gesturing the action with her words. She leans back against the chair, straight as a board. When Kran'dok questions, Meg refuses to answer -- stares.

"Been trying to get through to some of these people here," Randal says, "but most of them want to stay in line and be good little boys," he comments quietly. "I'll keep trying, though." He glances over toward Donavon, and flashes a smile. "So... what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" He asks with a smile, although his eyes register recognition as well as something more serious.

. o O Randal thinks, "Meg... don't make a scene. I know what the Romulans probably did to you, but we need Kran'dok, here."

Dane turns to look towards the group her eyes widening twice in one day she looks please. She reachs under the table to kick the Romulan so his eyes move to her's as she nods at Donavon. "I will try. " She says, trying to seem grateful to they woman by doing what she asks.

. o O Dane thinks, "I can't let her down, she's been so kind so sweet. Dispite whom I'm seeing."

Park shrugs as he takes a bite of his paste. "Nothing useful, that's for sure.", he replies. "The only helpful information we're going to get is from the people here."

Kran'dok begins to glance up to Randal to ask a question and notices the women. His heart skips a beat when he sees them. The Romulan swallows hard and does his best to maintain his composure. He had no idea his voice was carrying so far. He glances around and takes more care as he observes Randal interact. Suddenly he is kicked and can not help but grin ever so slightly, looking up at the woman through his hair.

Unexpectedly, Gr'laH settles heavily on the bench next to Park. There's a subtle difference to him from the first time they met -- he's willing to meet their gazes now. "We do not see many Earthers here," he grumbles in a low tone, his voice filled with acid. "Ghorev doesn't like them to build his ships -- he says they're too soft and pink. Nor do we see many Vulcans, either. People are too afraid of incurring their wrath." He glances around the table. "So, tell me... what have you done to fall out of favor with the Empire?"

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Vulcans? Empire? Hmm, that suggest that foll Surak did not ruin the species. That Empire would be truely great indeed. I will definately need to learn more. In the mean time I should play up to this."

Donavon dramatically sucks in a breath with shoulders lifting. Eyes squinting, both hands plant to the edge of the table, before she leans forward. "Is that all you can come up with? That's a pitiful line," is announced as her eyes meet Randal's in communicating. Fingers slide off the table, then flip back to the edge; the actions hidden behind the large bowl of paste.

. o O Donavon thinks, "Here's to hoping Randal picks up this clue."

Dane smiles at Kran'dok before glancing to Meg and grinning towards her as well, being around her friend seems to have cheered the woman up a little. "I'm sure that took him all week to learn. " She says. "Or think, if he can do that. " She teases Randal. Just as she would back home.

Kran'dok looks up to meet Gr'laH's eyes with a fierce gaze, showing exactly how much spirit he has left for a few moments. "Indeed. This is a mistake that will not be overlooked," he says with a cold sneer. He sits back slightly and allows the others to talk for a few moments. The Romulan does not slip back into his broken visage just yet.

Randal chuckles. His head bobs in a nod -- or actually, maybe he was just pitching his head to give Donavon a sly expression. "Been a while since I've seen a woman. Let alone two... and let alone so much of either of them." He snickers. "I know a place we can slip away to for a bit more privacy. It's a 3 kilometer jaunt from here, but if you don't the retro atmosphere, I'm sure I could show you I'm more a man of action than of words."

Park glances at the Klingon next to him, eyeing him up and down. "We're not part of the Empire, Gr'laH.", he replies, keeping one eye on the man and other on his bowl of paste.

Dane nods her head at Randal. "Well I'm sure a boy like yourself couldn't handle a pair of girls like us. Perhaps help would be needed for you?" She says speaking in code like he is. "A few more perhaps, surely your going to share this little hidie hole. "

"Ah, yes, a -mistake-," Gr'laH grumbles at Kran'dok. "Just as much a mistake as the Imperial bombardment of Qo'noS was a -mistake-, I suppose. As for not being part of the Empire..." the Klingon pauses, then lowers his voice, "...then just where, exactly, do you come from? It's not often that we have escaped lunatics with a century-old Imperial -- yet not -- starship roaming around this sector."

Donavon shoots Randal down flat without a blink of an eye. "I'm a woman of action, too," she coyly says. Suddenly, she takes her chilled untouched bowl of paste and overturns it above his head. "There's my answer." Eyes warily scan the room, on the constant lookout for Moroko Torin and his eyes, the guards. And due to the close proximity to Randal she is able to mouthe an apology, masked by her veil. She drops to her chair, feigning to grumble, and only then notices Gr'laH.

Kran'dok's expression hardens as he listens to the conversation around him. His gaze is cold and he says nothing, but does spare a brief glance to those others speaking before he turns back to Park and the Klingon. It seems that for a few moments, this Romulan is every bit the fearsom Vulcan that some might suspect him to be.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "That joke of yours walks a dangerous line Randal. Watch yourself."

. o O Kran'dok feels curious and inspired, with hints of anger creeping in which he tries to surpress.

Randal's reaction, particularly after the veiled apology, is to smile wider. "That's okay, I like a challenge," he replies. He turns away for now, back toward the others, scooping some of the gruel that is now running down his face and tasting it. His smile dissipates.

Park glances over at the table with the other Klingons for a moment, then back at Gr'laH. "I am not sure that I can fully explain.", his voice goes quiet as well. "We are from a place similar to this, but there is no Empire. No slavery. The Klingons are still a proud, free race. Our Federation is a collective of planets that work together toward the mutual good."

One of the guards hoots with laughter. "I wonder if it'll make him more pink?" he calls over the crowd. Apparently, they are being watched.

Dane looks towards Donavon and winces slightly. "Hmm was that a good idea, or are you trying to do something I'm not aware of. " The Little doctor asks, leaning towards the woman. "Sure a better use of the stuff then eatting I guess. " she says.

Gr'laH leans forward on his elbows, his voice dropping even lower. "There hasn't been a free Klingon in eighty years, Earther. The time is coming, though, when my people will rise against this Empire and take back what is rightfully ours!" He glances about furtively before continuing. "How is it that you come here?"

Randal glances across to the guard who shouts that out, and smiles and laughs a bit in apparant good nature. Of course, once his laughter does down, he mutters quietly at the table, "Yeah... just don't like me end up behind you section of piping." He takes the bowl of his head and starts brushing the viscous foodstuff off his head and into it. His eyes flick over to Gr'laH, but he says nothing for now.

Kran'dok fixes his gaze fully on Park, but refrains from scowling. He listens to the Klingon as he speaks. The Romulan nods slowly and begins to calm down just a bit as not to be noticed too much right now.

Dane suddenly gets up from the table and takes her bowl and teay over to the trash area, she glances back towards the table tilting her head a little. Before turning around, and emptying it. She then glances around for the guards.

Donavon cuts Dane off with a look. Ever the adoptee of Klingon intimidation, she sets her shoulders squarely to address those at the table. "Q'pla, son of Go'laH," is whispered though firm and fierce but then she glances to Park with a meaningful gaze.

. o O Randal thinks, "This is a positive development. I was hoping to find someone from this universe with a backbone."

The guards are still where they were, right next to the doors. One of them glances at Dane. "Done, slave?" he asks with a sneer.

"Ion storm.", Park replies, taking a bite of his paste, which allows him to lean farther forward. "I hope that we are present when the glorious day arrives. I, too, would see the yoke of slavery is thrown from the shoulders of the Klingons.", he comments, looking up and directly into the eyes of the Klingon.

Dane looks up at the guard, shaking her head. "It was cold, I was clearing it out. " She says slowly. "I need another drink if I may. " She says remembering to hold her head up likle Donavon said. She shows them her glass and wonders over to refill it.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Be careful Mir. I love your strength, but you just gave him an opening. There is no point in getting killed here looking strong. The trick is to survive and come out on top. That is how you win. Survive Mir. You must."

Gr'laH glances around the table once more. "Saturday. You will be prepared." With no further preamble, he stands and makes his way to the Klingon area of the cafeteria.

The guard, in the meantime, shrugs. "If you like drinking that stuff, you're welcome to it."

Dane comes back a few minutes later, head up if wobbly, she slips in next to Donavon again and glances around the table questionly.

Kran'dok refuses to glance towards the woman returning to the table and also does not allow his eyes to follow the Klingon. His gaze drifts back down to his paste as he begins to assume the broken look of the majority of the populace. There is still the hint of his strong persona in his shoulders and the stiff line of his jaw, that is something that may not fade for a few days.

Park takes another bite of his paste, picking up his glass. "Did everyone catch that?", he asks of those at his table, looking into his drink as he takes a sip.

"Well, that simplifies things," Randal comments quietly. He lifts the second bowl of gray stuff he 'acquired' from Donavon and proffers it to the others. "Anyone want this?"

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "... To throw at a guard? Yes. Sadly I will not be able to enjoy that bit of pleasure yet, but it will come."

Donavon steals the glass away from Dane if only to sniff the liquid. Lips perched and twist in consideration before it passes her seal of approval with a firm nod. Whether it was to answer Park or confirm her decision is left unknown. 'Better than the paste.' Then her voice pitches low. Donavon whispers to Dane, "He's probably still in the box."

Dane lays a hand on the woman's arm. "He'll be out soon. " She says getting her drink and sipping carefully. Her heart gose out to the Lt, she can not imagin herself in her place. "I'm sure he's better off then us. " She says with a hopeful lit to her voice.

Harris steps out of Grix's Cafe.

Harris has arrived.

The doors part once again, and a pair of guards toss a rather limp sort of human-sized bundle onto the deck before they vanish into the corridor once again. "But we were just getting started!" the figure croaks after them.

Kran'dok seems almost as he will not loose that pride right now, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. He glances up to give Park a single nod. "I will be ready." He subtly glances over at the pair of women for just a moment. There is definately spirit in his eyes.

Donavon rips her arm away from Dane's hand as though the touch burns. Revulsion seeps into her expression and her chair squeaks in being shoved away. "I don't need your pity." She turns away, leg flipped over the other. Eyes glance past Park, though do linger for a moment, before spotting and determining who the limp figure is. The act disappears in a second for relief brightens her face; she smiles just before forcing a scowl back on for the guards.

Randal's attention is drawn to the person who has been brought to the cafeteria. His brow creases, in spite of the fact that he is trying to keep his expression a careful and guarded neutral for appearances sake.

Dane eyes widen when she sees Harris and without thinking she grabs for a bowl, empites her water into it and rushs off to his side. She glances up at the guards. "You monsters, he did nothing wrong and you beat him. " She spits at one, outraged, at seeing such a state of a man. She then scans him looking for the worse of the injuries, "I'm been spoiled with equipment. " She mutters.

GAME: Donavon spends a courage point.

GAME: Donavon has the flaw of Romantic Attachment at -3.

Park slides out of his chair, rather casually and moves over toward Harris. Bending down, he whispers something to Dane before reaching down to slide an arm around the man and helping him to a seat.

"We didn't beat him... he got a very nice massage," one of the guards tells Dane with a smirk. "Maybe you need a tour in the Booth to get that into your empty little head, hm?"

Park whispers to Dane, "You have /better/ get ahold of yourself, Mirantha. All you're doing is making a scene and yourself, along with the rest of us, targets. Get /back/ in your seat, shut your mouth and take your cues from Meg."

Kran'dok sees everyone's motions shift. He glances up briefly to see what it is about. The Romulan begins to turn back in an attempt to ignore Harris when he catches a comment from a guard, leveling a fierce sneer on the Andorian.

"My choice of vacations leaves much to be desired," Harris murmurs to Park as he helps him up, apparently grateful for the support -- although a very long sort of shiver rolls through his entire frame at the word booth.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Mir, hold together. Just a few more days. You need to keep your cool for us Mir. Do not force me to do something that we will both regret. I will stop these guards."

Dane looks up at the guard her eyes widen her face still showing outrage. "He did nothing wrong. " She says letting Park calm her for a few moments. She takes a deep breath and can feel herself starting to get one of her panic attacks. She's hasn't had her medication, she glances back at Park and shakes her head whispering something.

Randal sighs lightly in response to Dane's reaction. "Uh oh," he murmurs, and gets up as fast as he can without looking as though he is rushing to stand. He picks up his second bowl, though waits a beat before deciding what to do next.

. o O Randal thinks, "I'd really rather be standing if this comes down to a brawl."

Dane whispers to Park, " I'm sorry I couldn't help it, Aaron I'm tired and I want out of here. It's so hard to keep myself from flipping. You know it's hard enough on the station."

Dovoro steps forward, his hand going to his hip where the phaser rests. "If you weren't part of the Commander's harem, you'd be vapors right now," he warns. "That goes for all of you. Back to your food, or there will be -none- tomorrow."

"And people wonder why I never take time off.", Park mutters to Harris. His only response to Dane is a glare that could melt duranium as they make their way to the table.

. o O Park thinks, "Can't you just /shut up/!?"

. o O Park feels utterly infuriated.

Donavon swallows the knot building in her throat - it suddenly becoming raw. Tears are fiercely fought off by concentrating on budding anger the closer Harris' injuries come into focus. Teeth gnash together and hands clench upon her lap. She couldn't be be more rigid. The chair shoves away from the table a whole foot. The display of emotion swiftly is contained by another swallow. Randal's second bowl -- she swipes away without word to start stuffing her throat with food instead of shouting curses.

Kran'dok growls quietly and tightly grips his bowl, nearly breaking the object. He breaths heavily for a few moments, keeping his gaze locked on the table as he tries to keep his calm.

The room gets much quieter, now, almost as if everyone's collectively waiting to take a breath.

Dane finally gets up and moves back to the table, her eyes are down on the floor again as she tries to keep herself calm. Her breath is a little fast and shame is writen all over her face as she quietly slips her body into a chair as far from the others as she can.

Randal finds his hands now devoid of the bowl of food, Donavon having reclaimed. "Well... Guess I won't have to clean that up," he comments wryly in the silence, trying to break the tension, or at least erode it. He chuckles nervously.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Now Donavon is loosing her cool. I am not sure how long I can keep quiet here. These Andorain beasts will pay for this treatment."

. o O Kran'dok feels barely surpressed deep anger.

Dovoro smirks and steps back to his post. "Scum," he remarks to his fellow guard. "At least they know when they're beaten."

Harris plops into a chair, placing his head in his arms. "I asked them to put a note of complaint in with the concierge regarding the facilities. They took it personally, I think." To Park, he adds, soft voice going even softer, "Thanks."

"Guard," Donavon calls, voice sharper than a chaka. The regal harem woman waits patiently, angered dagger filled eyes staring at Harris.

Park looks over at Donavon as she calls out. Well, staring at her, really.

. o O Park thinks, "Dear God, don't do anything stupid."

Kran'dok slowly begins to calm down and glance over at Donavon as she seems to be seeking attention. He still grips his bowl tightly, knuckles nearly bone white, but he is calming down.

Dovoro glances over to Donavon. "Yes?" he asks after a moment of following her gaze. "Is he bothering you again?"

Randal climbs over the bench, returning to his seat while glancing sidelong at Donavon as she calls to the guard. He remains quiet for now.

Dane lifts her head up then seems to crawl across the chair to the Romulan's side, her eyes never leave the guard as she waits her body tense what has she done. She's ruined it for everyone, a fine officer Mir is.

. o O Harris thinks, "If you send me back to that booth, Megan Rose Donavon, I -swear- by all that is good and holy that there will be a divorce if we survive this."

Donavon slinks out of her chair to approach Dovoro with a pop to her hip, an exact mimic of Tricks' walk. Fingers wiggle before hover-gliding over the guard's shoulder. Her face lifts towards his when speaking in lower hushed tones. Donavon whispers to Dovoro, "It would mean all the universe of happiness if I could have a private minute with the cad." Eyes glow in warmth, inviting as she tips them to glance across Dovoro's face. Donavon whispers to Dovoro, "I never was able to show him my wrath. A little kick. Hmm? Would you grant me that sweet bit of revenge?"

GAME: Dovoro contests his Presence/willpower vs Donavon's Presence/empathy & Charm and Fails.

Dovoro is silent for a moment, then nods. "Alright. But if you need anything, you just yell and I'll reduce him to ashes."

Kran'dok subtly reaches down to grasb the woman's hand below the table, covering the movement by taking a bite of his grog. Kran'dok whispers to Dane, "Be strong E'lev. Only a few more days. I know you can do it. You are already doing remarkably well. Do not loose heart. I love you more than ever. We will get back and soon." He gives her hand a brief squeeze and lets the touch linger for a few moments.

Donavon bats her eyes in half ducking her head coyly. Donavon whispers to Dovoro, "In private? I wouldn't want to cause laughter if I slipped, missed and fell in front of everyone."

Randal catches snippets of Donavan's quiet conversation with Dovoro. He glances over to Harris, briefly, but his expression remains a carefully guarded neutral.

Dovoro tips his head to his assistant. "Get that slave up and toss him into a room where he and the lady won't be disturbed for ten minutes. I'll stand guard outside personally."

The other guard moves across the cafeteria to help Harris up. "Come on, or you'll get a taste of an agonizer."

Harris groans as he's lifted. "Leaving so soon? I kinda like it here." His gaze travels to Randal and Park in a 'what can you do?' kind of look as he's half drug, half pushed to the door.

Donavon rewards Dovoro by licking her lips eagerly and daring to glide a fingertip down his jawline -- silent gratitude. And the moment her body twists does anger reform. There's nothing but disgust shown towards Harris as she's guided out by the guards.

"Have fun," Randal comments to Harris as the man is removed from his seat, keeping his tone very deliberately ambiguous as he watches Harris leave. He lifts his mug to take a drink of the swill that is kindly provided to the unpaid labor.

Dane evens widen a little then goes back to the Romulan's she nods her head at him her hands squeezing his for a few moments before she lets them go. "For you. " She says, slipping into a seat, she then looks at Donavon and wonders what just happen when she sees the woman caressing the guard.

"Maybe you can talk someone into fluffing my pillow?" Harris asks as he's taken across the threshhold.

Imperial efficiency being what it is, a new pair of guards show up to replace those exiting with Harris and Donavon.

. o O Donavon thinks, "Shoes is getting a batch of brownies if we make it home. Who would have thought those smoochy smoochy novels were so educational?"

Kran'dok gives the Trill one last strong look, straighting his shoulders and assuming his normally well maintained posutre. He allows just a moment of this to give her strength while the guards are distracted before he slumps back down with a bit of a wink. He goes back to eating the slop. Even as his shoulders slouch, there is a hint of that strength still there that may not go away.