Universal History

 Episode Name:  Universal History

   Written By:  Eidolon

         Cast:  Dane, Donavon, Eidolon, Harris, Kran'dok, Lopez, Park and Randal.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Eidolon

     Aired On:  Thu Jul 21 23:37:18 2005

     Stardate:  55132.3

Time: Thu Jul 21 21:01:12 2005

Stardate: 55132.0

The middle of the night finds the members of the Lexington's crew who are not either building starships or entertaining bored crew summoned, via transporter, to a dark chamber. There is no light at the moment, merely the soft hum of air recirculation units, and of course, their own breathing. The rest, for the moment, is silence.

Harris groans quietly as he sits up, a very groggy, "...the hell?" echoing through the chamber.

Randal rolls over and groans slightly, but the transporter activity does not manage to wake him, nor does the sudden fact that he is no longer on a bed. Not that the beds were that comfortable, anyway.

Fluffy pillows to hard deckplating does in fact wake Donavon. Darkness discovers with the opening of her eyes, she sits up, too, and whispers, "Who's there?"

Dane rolls over onto her side and groans herself when she hits hard floor and not a pillow. She blinks and opens her eyes, then closes them before it makes no difference it's still dark.

Kran'dok lies on the floor now, a slight improvement over the bunk, with his hands behind his head as he stares sleeplessly at the ceiling. The Romulan blinks several times to test his eyes before he slowly sits up and begins to look around. He hear's Meg and softly whispers, "Donavon?"

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Dark now? Did I finally fall asleep? I have hardly even been able to close my eyes being appart this long."

There is a dull thump, belying the fact that someone at least was sitting at the time of transportation. "Pedazo de..." begins that person, on a hiss.

"I trust you have all been enjoying your stay with us?" Ghorev's voice booms from the darkness that surrounds them. "I thought you may enjoy a history lesson about your new home."

. o O Harris' irritation at being awoken sharpens into extreme dislike for that voice.

"Ugh." That's the only sound Harris makes in response.

Dane blinks as she hears a few voices she knows getting to her knees she looks around and goes bumping into a largish lump. She places her hand and catches a pointy ear. "Brutae. " She whispers then looks around. "IS everyone here... " She trails off and looks up and groans again when Ghorev speaks.

Donavon hisses beneath her breath; no Romulan shall be answered by her. Knuckles rub at her eyelids, wiping away the sleepiness. Instead, she scoots towards the sound of what can only be Spanish speaking Lopez. Donavon whispers to Lopez, "Think there's an exam?"

Kran'dok grumbles slightly and looks around for the woman's voice. He makes no reply after Ghorev speaks. He sighs and sits back down, waiting to hear what he has to say.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Mir, that best have been some attempt to conceal my identity. You must know I hate hearing that. At least I will get some answers now. I still have a job to do and anything I learn could be quite valuable."

Dane says, "Ugh." That's the only sound Harris makes in response.
Dane blinks as she hears a few voices she knows getting to her knees she looks around and goes bumping into a largish lump. She places her hand and catches a pointy ear. "Brutae. " She whispers then looks around. "IS everyone here... " She trails off and looks up and groans again when Ghorev speaks.
Donavon hisses beneath her breath; no Romulan shall be answered by her. Knuckles rub at her eyelids, wiping away the sleepiness. Instead, she scoots towards the sound of what can only be Spanish speaking Lopez. Donavon whispers to Lopez, "..."
Kran'dok grumbles slightly and looks around for the woman's voice. He makes no reply after Ghorev speaks. He sighs and sits back down, waiting to hear what he has to say."

The public service announcement wakes Randal up fairly quickly. He sits up with a jerk and, finding himself surrounded in total darkness, decides to remain quiet. The fact that he is no longer snoring lightly is a clear indication he's awake, though.

"Yes? No?" Ghorev's voice demands from the darkness. "I could have you returned to your quarters? I understand that productivity in Drydock 18 is down, and that there will be a round of executions to increase morale. Also, the Executor has just come into dock. Captain Davenport is a very lonely woman, and she enjoys the -full- services of the harem whenever she's here."

Lopez murmurs in the direction of Donavon's voice, venturing out her hands to locate some landmark in the darkness, "Probably. Like school and other bad dreams..." She pitches her voice low.

Dane shudders and looks up towards the celing. "Lovely. " she says softly, sitting up next to Kran'dok, touching her shoulder against his. She then sudders again at the Andorians last word. "Not against our will. " She says softly.

Park rolls over, already sore from the long days and nights of work, so emits a low groan of discomfort. "Sure, it's been a hoot.", he replies quietly. "And I'm up for a history lesson. Sleep is overrated anyway."

"You've brought us here. Why say no and waste your time?" Donavon stretches her legs, uncertain if her feet collide with anyone.

Harris puts his head in his hands, rubbing at his face. Not that anyone can see that. "There's always room for learning."

Kran'dok clears his throath. "I would like to think this is an educational experience. A little knowledge and experience has a way of increasing productivity." He sits up more straightly and begins to try and locate the voices as he hears them.

"What was the question again?" Randal says, sounding tired and confused. "I think I missed it. Oh, well, everyone seems to be saying yes, so I'll say 'yes' too."

Lopez keeps her eyes closed. She finds it less disorienting to be feeling along the floor in the blackness that way. She begins to crawl forward, cautiously. "You know the answer is no," she gives her answer honestly, but keeps it short.

Kran'dok glances over at the Trill as she brushes against him. Kran'dok whispers to Dane, "Quite. Do not risk making things worse than they are. Only answer when spoken to tonight Mir."

Dane nods her head slowly and scoots away from the Romulan, she brings her knees up and hugs herself. She lays her head across her knees and says nothing. She'll sleep perhaps.

Ghorev's voice takes on an air of deadly amusement. "Your will, Trill, means exactly nothing to myself. Now that we've dispensed with the pleasantries..." he pauses, and his voice takes on a note of grandeur which wasn't present before, "...I present to you the history of the Terran Empire."

A brilliant light washes through the room, and then an image takes form -- a Terran, with swarthy features and long, dark hair, tied in a simple ponytail at the back of his head. "The man responsible for the birth of the Empire -- the first Emperor." This voice is new, and sounds like a narrator for the holorecording.

. o O Dane thinks, "I can't do anything right."

GAME: Park contests his History vs Challenging and Marginally Fails.

GAME: Dane contests her History vs Challenging and Succeeds.

GAME: Randal contests his History vs Challenging and Succeeds.

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

GAME: Lopez contests her History vs Challenging and Fails.

GAME: Harris contests his History/Federation vs Challenging and Marginally Succeeds.

GAME: Donavon contests her History vs Challenging and Succeeds.

Randal frowns, glancing at the image, then taking a look at the others in the renewed lighting. "Hmmm... you know, I actually think I know who that is. I guess my mother's persistence in forcing me to watch those educational vids actually paid off."

"And with any Empire or first Emperor, he had to be a warlord to acquire wealth, power, and land," murmurs Donavon who observes the image longer.

Kran'dok grunts slightly as the recognition hits him. He watches the image with some respect. He takes a few moments then looks over at the retreating Trill. The Romulan reaches out to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and scoots just a little closer.

Donavon whispers to Lopez, "Warlord. Khan Noonien Singh. Rob isn't going to like this."

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "This is interesting. The Humans in this universe did not squander their one chance at true strength. Some how they ended up as the weak pink ones though. This is very strange."

Park glances at the figure, but says nothing.

. o O Park thinks, "Bit of a sissy, isn't he?"

Lopez opens her eyes only once the image has been identified by Donavon.

Dane flinchs away from the touch, and looks at the screen she blinks a few times and mutters. "That's Khan Noonien Singh, I could be mistaken. " She says softly dropping her head back to her knees.

Harris scoots back from the image as if slapped. "Khan!" he spits, pure loathing in his voice. "Butcher. Barbarian. -Monster-."

. o O Harris loathes that man.

. o O Donavon thinks, "That would mean..cowboy days were over..Captain Kirk..."

"After Khan Noonien Singh came to power in 1992, his territory stretched, at first, over the entirety of Asia and into Europe. By 1994, Western Europe had fallen under his sway, with Africa falling in the next year. By 1999, Khan controlled the whole of Earth, save for the North American countries of the United States of America and the Dominion of Canada. In the fall of that year, President William Jefferson Clinton and Prime Minister Jean Chretien surrendered their countries to the forces of the United Earth Empire -- and Khan held an entire world in his sway."

The image changes to a human watching as a ship, red in color and with a distinctive triangular shape, descends from a starry sky above. "Until 2063, the Empire had thought that it was alone in the universe. It had expanded, taking control of the entirety of the Sol system, but now... a new race was encountered: the Sons of Tellus -- the Vulcans."

The ship's hatch opens, and the captain steps out of the hatch only to be cut down by a particle beam from a nearby soldier.

Kran'dok chuckles at Harris. "And Humans one and only chance at greatness." He finishes his slide towards the Trill, he takes a breath and puts a strong arm around her shoulders. "This is quite interesting." His head perks up at the mention of Vulcans.

"Apparently diplomacy wasn't required reading at their military academy.", Aaron comments from where he sits, not cross legged on the floor.

Randal quirks his eyebrow. "Well," he comments wryly. "That explains a lot about hospitality and cultural progress being so out of fashion in this neck of the woods."

Dane stiffen at first her eyes on the screen as she watches in horror as the Vulcans are killed. "That can't be right, that's one of the terrans proudest moment. " She says, shocked and very distrubed by the image. She looks towards Kran'dok her eyebrows raised.

. o O Lopez thinks, "Keep a lid on it-- do you need to be reminded, he can scuttle us any time he wants."

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "I will do as I like Doctor. You have been little help of late. If Ghorev decides I will be useful, then I will take his help. We are getting out of here one way or another."

"Explains much. Aye." Donavon agrees vocally with Randal.

Lopez lays herself back down, watching with a tight expression, but forbearing to add her own commentary.

Harris just turns his gaze away, his lips twisted into a grim frown.

"While First Contact with the Vulcans was not a success, the ensuing war -- brief as it was -- came to ensure that the two races saw a kindred spirit in one another." The scene changes to another easily recognizable image: Federation Hall on Earth, although the interior is different, and the flag in the background even moreso: the planet Earth, impaled with a knife next to a green banner of an eagle in flight, clutching a red globe in its talons. "In 2070, Emperor Khan and Praetor Solkar signed the documents forming the Interstellar Empire of Planets. Together, they sought to conquer the universe, and they vowed to succeed -- no matter the cost.

The scene changes again to a star map, showing what should be Federation space. Slowly, a sickly red spreads out to cover the territory of the Tellarites, the Axanari, and swiftly surrounds the blue of the Andorians before constricting inward on it. "In 2150, the Empire faced its first challenge: the Andorian Imperium. The Andorians were fierce warriors, unafraid to fight to the very last to keep their lands free. Wave after wave of Imperial ships were repulsed by these hardy warriors, thousands died -- and still the Andorians fought on."

. o O Lopez thinks, "And here they are. Running things."

Dane nods her head slowly as she begins to understand what's happening here. "Are you saying the Earth empire and the Andorians are at war?" she asks softly trying to understand what's layed out before her. She leans into the arm around her shoulder and shivers a little. "I don't think I like this universe. "

. o O Park thinks, "Maybe if you just shut up he'll tell us."

Kran'dok watches the scenes, nodding with satisfaction at first. His head slowly stops as he watches the scenes of the Andorain war. The Romuln pulls the Trill against his shoulders. He opens his mouth to speak, but chooses to clamp it shut and wait to learn rather than tip his hand.

Randal's eyes get a glossed over, bored expression and he glances around somewhat restlessly. He's still paying attention to what's being displayed... just not his full attention.

Park glances over at Dane, but doesn't say anything, instead studying what is in front of them and the room in general.

Lopez turns her head to search over the lit forms of the remnants of Lexington's crew. Her eyes narrow as she watches the display.

Dane's question is ignored; it becomes apparent that this isn't an interactive holovid. The narrator's voice drones on. "After a decade of war, the Andorians were conquered. The costs were enormous: 1.2 billion dead, 2,000 ships destroyed. The Empire's strength flagged, and it was at this time that a new race was encountered -- the Romulans."

The scene changes once again, showing a ship that resembles an ancient Romulan Bird-of-Prey, save for its lack of the familiar raptor symbology painted on the hull. "The Romulans were a peaceful people, devoted to the persuit of logic. Their philosophy was formed by an individual known as Surak; he had been expelled from Vulcan when his weak, pacifistic ways were rejected by his people. The Vulcans pushed for conquest, and the Empire launched a new offensive against Romulan territory." Another scene change, showing a new star chart: Imperial space's red spreading and consuming the blue of Romulan space. "By 2200, the Romulans had been completely defeated and were forcibly reintegrated into Vulcan society; in the end, 500 million Romulans took their own lives, rather than betray the principles of their people. It was a great victory for the Empire."

Harris swallows, hard. "A -great- victory," he mumbles.

Park just shakes his head as the death toll mounts.

Dane eyes widen a little as she watches tears run down her cheeks at the number of death on either side. "That's awful, why?" She says looking around. "Why, can't peace be used to unite instead of war. " This is almost whipsered out of fear of being heard.

Kran'dok scoffs. "Very interesting," is all the Romulan says. He wears a scowl for a moment before assuming his working guard face. He gives the woman a squeeze, but says nothing.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "This is quite backwards. Vulcans using Romulan ideas and symbols. Romulans being peaceful. What happened to D'era?"

Randal tilts his head. "That's just... wrong." There's a sort of numbness in his tone, most likely brought about by the horrific recount of this universe's history, and a sort of denial in accepting its reality.

. o O Lopez thinks, "A great empire, verdad? They kill like animals, starve and abuse the helpless and depend on forced labor... Alright. Now how can we use this?"

"It was at this time that the Andorians rose up against their Imperial overlords in rebellion. The insurrection was completely crushed by 2220, and the Andorians decided that the Emperor was Lor'vela, reborn, and pledged their undying loyalty to the Empire. This could not have been more timely; in 2218, the Imperial starship ISS Starkiller had encountered the forces of the Klingon Confederacy and been destroyed with all hands." The voice pauses. "The Empire was plunged into the most destructive conflict in its history, with the warrior culture of the Andorians being pitted against the warrior culture of the Klingons. In desperation, the Klingon Confederacy opened negotations with the Cardassian Union, and together, they formed the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance, standing opposed to the Interstellar Empire. The war drug on, but there were new developments in 2268."

The scene shifts again, this time displaying Captain James T. Kirk and Commander Spock, the latter with a goatee. "Insurgents from a parallel universe attempted to sow the seeds of discord and rebellion in ISS Enterprise first officer Spock, challenging him to end the so-called 'tyrrany' of the Empire."

Harris looks up at the new scene, his brows furrowing.

. o O Harris thinks, "So, it's the same as it was for us."

Kran'dok takes in all the information thoughtfully. The Romulan says nothing as the wheels in his head are clearly turning feaverishly.

Dane carries on watching she couldn't take her eyes away if her own mother showed up. "Kirk. " She says softly then looks at Spock. "Hero's slandered. " She whispers uncurling, she moves alittle so she's sat infront of the Romulan her attention wholely on the story before her.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "I must remember every detail of this. These dates, the faces and the alliances. I can not afford to forget a single detail."

Randal chuckles faintly. "So-called tyrrany?" He echoes sardonically. "That's a fine spot to start wearing kid gloves. At least it sounds like Spock was a man worth respecting, no matter which universe he's in," he comments.

"Spock was a man to be respected," Harris notes softly. "He still is, at least in our universe."

Lopez's jaw sets, and twitches once, tightly.

"Spock considered the words of the insurgents carefully, but in the end, rejected their arguements in favor of the continuation of the Imperial way." The voice takes on a smug note of satisfaction. "Upon James Kirk's ascension to the Imperial throne in 2285, Spock became Starfleet Commander-in-Chief, and drafted a strategy which brought the Alliance to its knees by 2293. With the conquest of the Tzenkethi, Tholians, Miradorn, Breen, Gorn, Taurhai, and Bajorans, by 2311, the Empire controlled the entirety of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. For the first time in Imperial history, the Empire was not at war. This, however, would not last."

The scene changes again, showing the opening of the Bajoran wormhole. "In 2325, Starfleet discovered a wormhole in the Denorios Belt of the B'hava'el system, linking the Alpha Quadrant with the Gamma Quadrant. New vistas were opened for conquest: the spoils of the Gamma Quadrant were ripe for the Empire to take. Only one thing stood between our peoples and victory: The Dominion."

Park actually leans forward a bit, finding this portion of the story at least a little interesting.

From all appearances.

Randal frowns as the history lesson goes on. "Oh. I take that back," he murmurs. And then smirks. "Right. This is where these guys really took a wrong turn," he comments, after the Dominion is mentioned.

Dane nods her agreement with the comments on Spock, which are sort lived when she hears he went against them anyway. A soft sigh comes from her lips. "I wonder when we get to hear about the Borg?" she asks, having missed that nemeis.

Kran'dok listens intently, but spares a moment to quietly speak. Kran'dok whispers to Dane, "Do not worry Mir. There is no slander here. These were those people in this place. These were their deeds. It is not our home. Shhh, do not share anything we know." He looks up at the mention of the Dominion and listens on.

. o O Randal thinks, "Got to keep this act up. We need to make sure we give these people reasons not to kill us if we stop being amusing to them."

. o O Lopez thinks, "WHY is he telling us all this? What does he WANT?"

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "The Taurhai?!? This Empire must truely be great if they easily defeated them. We must tread carefully and I will learn all I can. I must get my hands on one of their computers."

"The Dominion was a cunning adversary, able to build ships faster than Imperial shipyards, and they bred the ultimate killing machine in the Jem'Hadar to protect themselves. Their Vorta ambassadors were slaughtered without fail; their ships repulsed with regularity, but still they fought the inevitable by resisting the conquest of their space." The voice pauses. "In 2344, the last Imperial ships withdrew from the Gamma Quadrant, regrouping on our side of the tunnel; however, not even that conciliatory gesture dissuaded the Dominion from pressing its war effort. Their ships poured through the wormhole like a plague, and their lines extended as far as the Typhon Sector before Starfleet forces were able to regroup and force the Dominion's fleets back through the wormhole. Even as of today, we are locked in a struggle with the Dominion, but as all times before, the Empire will overcome and be victorious in the end. GLORY TO THE EMPIRE!"

The vid shuts off, and the room goes dark again. "Now you know the truth," Ghorev states with smug satisfaction. "Now you know the Empire you serve."

Silent for a long moment, Harris finally takes a deep breath and exhales. "I feel dirty now."

Randal just chuckles faintly, still smirking. He says nothing for the moment.

Park shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair unconsciously.

Kran'dok nods slowly. He opens his mouth again to speak, but catches himself and clamps it shut. After a few moments he decides what to say. "Thank you." The Romulan grins slightly and falls silent.

Dane doesn't seem to know how to react she so just stares ever ounce of her bodt denying his words she looks back at the Romulan, snarling a little at his thank you. She did not expect that.

Lopez is left in her supine posture, with an expectant expression coloring her features.

"Of course, I do not expect you to understand fully," Ghorev continues. "You cannot, really, being the creatures that you are. But, no matter; you will have quite some time to consider it as you toil for the rest of your lives in this place. If you pledge your loyalty now, I can make your lives very comfortable; if you do not, you know what place you will return to."

"Oh?" Randal says, with a casual sort of interest. "Comfortable, how?" Of course, he's probably just playing along. Probably. Right?

Kran'dok looks over at Harris for an answer.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Make the right decision. I am an Allied officer, but Romulans are *not* slaves. I will not go back to that and I will not allow Mir to go back to that harem. If we serve this Empire, we can go home as we have the time and I can get the information I require."

Dane shakes her head, withdrawing into herself again. "The Harem isn't so bad. " she mutters, "At least they go away if you ask nicely. " She says the bruise and cuts are mainly from the other women.

Donavon has listened and wraps up the lesson. "We understand. There's a difference between our universes. Your Empire seeks domination - power and greed. Our governing bodies formed the Federation based upon the lessons from our wars. Peace and knowledge were far greater pursuits. Your Empire in time will fall. Maybe then you'll learn the lesson. Most of us made our pledges long ago; at least I know where I'll be returned to." Stating that, she smiles, proud of being a Federation citizen.

"Let's get one thing straight," Harris replies, his voice icy, "I'll slave away in your shipyard, and I'll be abused by your guards, but I'd rather die than serve your Empire willingly."

Dane nods her head. "As will I, I made my pledge to starfleet and it's citizens I'll die before I'll betray them. " She says lifting her head up a little.

"Comfortable as in taking your rightful place amongst your people, Mister Thorne," Ghorev replies softly, having at least one potential convert. "Comfortable as in not having to work twelve-hour shifts building ships. Comfortable as in commanding your own vessel, serving the Empire."

Kran'dok takes a deep breath and sighs as he looks away from both Donavon and Harris. "I am still curious. There is so much to learn about your Vulcans," he says to the voice. The Romulan gives the woman a subtle reassuring squeze as he speaks. "Is there not some other arangement that could be reached?" he asks curiously.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "I hate having to speak up like this, but I will not give up a perfectly good chance."

. o O Lopez experiences a moment of extreme tension at the provoking words of the others.

Park chuckles a bit, flipping his bangs away from his face. He opens his mouth to say something, but, really, there isn't anything to say. Yet.

Randal raises his eyebrows. "Well, you do seem to have a surplus of ships in need of capable commanders. And really, even if by some astronomical miracle we all do find a way home or get rescued, well..." He chuckles. "Back home, I'm just a bartender." He glances toward the others. "Seriously, guys. We have to consider the fact that we might be stuck here for the rest of ours lives. Maybe we should think about making the best of it."

. o O Randal is being rather insincere for the sake of humoring evil-Ghorev.

"I offer the terms here, Romulan," Ghorev replies to Kran'dok. "This is an offer that will be extended once, and only once. Mister Thorne appears to understand that; the rest of your companions seem to be oblivious to that fact. Choose."

Dane shakes her head and gets up she moves away from the Romulan and Randal totally denying the possibility.

"Figures a Romulan would fall in love with this Empire," hisses Donavon as the bitter taste in her mouth builds. Her words then direct to Randal. "Consider that considered. And no."

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "Please Mir. You do not see the chance we could have here. The life we could have. How can we get home when we are traped as slaves? We have the best chance if we take his offer."

. o O Donavon thinks, "That man wants more out of you, Randal. I know you're trying to trump him, but...there are other ways."

Harris just leans back against a wall and crosses his arms over his chest.

Kran'dok looks over at the woman as she walks away then glances back towards Harris and Donavon. "I am afraid I must decline on those terms. This existance is disgraceful, but it is the one I must share with these people." He lifts his head and speaks with authority. "I would gladly help my people, but I must stay with these."

Park glances over to Randal. "There isn't anything to consider.", he replies with a bit of what might be disappointment in his voice. "I'm a doctor, not a torturer."

. o O Park thinks, "If I could use the opportunity to provide some medical care, it might help."

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "And again I turn my back on my heritage. If this Klingon does not come through for us, the rest of the fleeters will pay for this day. I will not be a slave for the rest of my life and she will not serve in a harem."

"Torture is left to our security officers," Ghorev replies to Park. "We have an expert on-station who deals with such matters, while our medical staff conducts research. We recently cured a Betazoid disease here, Doctor; our laboratory facilities are second-to-none."

"Look," Randal says, speaking to the air in lieu of a direction to speak to the Andorian with. "Give me a chance to talk to my friends about this. They're still hung up on all this 'values of the Federation' nonsense. Granted, they have a reason to be arrogant... the Federation won its war with the Federation, after all. But that's exactly the reason you need to let me win these people over for you, Ghorev. No offense... but your own war efforts seem a bit wanting, at the moment."

Lopez breathes out as though punched in the stomach and twists her body, until looking away, with no verbal sidebar, until she asks, "What disease? And to whom was the cure accredited?"

Dane shakes her head at Randal. "Don't even come near me, with your talk I want to go home I want to sleep in my own bed and wear my own clothes. I don't want none of this crap!"

"At what expense?" Donavon scoffs, agreeing with Lopez. "Experiments on worlds you were conquering? Were your test subjects POWs? We want nothing to do with your Empire. You'll have to do better than give history lessons to change our minds."

. o O Randal thinks, "Heh. This is kind of like playing good cop, bad cop. Only the roles are reversed. Twice. Or something. Bad metaphor."

"APH," Ghorev replies to Lopez. "Accredited to Doctor Brett Sanders." He ignores Donavon; she's made her choice, after all.

Park chews on the inside of his cheek, glancing between Donavon, Randal and the floor.

Harris reaches out to poke Donavon with a toe, nodding once to her if he catches her attention.

. o O Harris thinks, "Good girl, Meg."

Kran'dok grits his teeth. "Just why not join? I fail to see the bennefit to anyone being a slave. You are still doing their bidding," he says under his breath.

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "What is one more devil's advocate? This situation better turn out alright. We have our best chance to get out if we join."

Lopez glances in the direction of the Medical personnel briefly, to avoid drawing attention to Harris' toe-prodding of his wife by being caught looking there.

Donavon cares little to counter the Romulan - waste of her breath. Her foot nudges Harris in return, a brief sigh following. He has her attention.

Dane shakes her head slowly. "I wasn't aware of that, what is APH?" She asks softly

Randal waits patiently and quietly for the moment will the issue simmers.

"Acute Paracortical Hyperstimulus.", Park replies quietly, pushing off the ground and standing.

. o O Park feels an overwhelming sense of loss and grief, long pushed down within his psyche but which now erupts unchecked.

"And we've already arrived at a treatment, back in our right reality," comments Lopez.

Park begins to pace slowly about the room, apparently lost in thought. "What of regular patient treatment?", he asks, a slight catch in his voice. "Who takes care of that?"

. o O Lopez thinks, "What is it again? How does it go? Better to die on your feet, than to live on your knees. That aphorism has seldom seemed so literal..."

Dane stands up and also looks towards Ghorev. "There's a lot of injuries among the slaves and workers. If we're allowed a medical kit. We could treat them. " She says softly, thinking of the old man.

. o O Dane thinks, "Kran'dok you betray me and I will leave you this second!"

Kran'dok watches as everything unfolds. He shakes his head slightly, but says nothing.

"There is day to day interaction between our doctors, nursing staff, and their patient. The slaves here recieve better care than they would at any location in the Empire. We are not barbarians; we are warriors, but not without hearts. As a show of our graciousness -- and indeed, as an offer of our friendship, I will give you until morning to decide," Ghorev offers quietly. "I offer you a future in this reality; I offer you a meaningful existance, rather than one of menial labor and toil until the end of your days." He sounds almost paternal, as if he wishes to see his wayward children do well. "Please consider your options carefully -- and partake of the comfort that the Empire can offer, in the meantime."

As he speaks, a door in the wall slides open, revealing a bunkroom with a long table filled with food, actual replicators, and luxurious beds -- even if it is still communal. "Until morning, then."

. o O Kran'dok thinks, "They can not possibly be considering going back as slaves. They will still be serving the as either slaves, building their tools of war. Why not serve as individuals who can make a difference? We will have our best chance to get home if we go along with the Empire. Refusing to play along will condemn those Bajorans back home. Do not be fools!"

Randal glances toward the room revealed beyond the door. "Hmm. That's a bit more like it," he mutters, standing and going toward the door without any sign of hesitation.

Lopez gets up to examine the room that has been opened for them, but her eyes aren't for the bedding or the spread of food-- they're searching the walls.

Park glances over at the walls that open up, but makes no move toward the room that appears. Instead, his hands are stuffed into his pocket and he continues to pace the room, trying to come to grips with the choice that has been set before him.

. o O Lopez thinks, "Bets on poison? Or on actually being returned to detail after refusal? This is going to be a long long night."