Sensing the Dark
Posted on Sun Dec 14th, 2014 @ 11:39pm by Captain Vahn Drayel & Andrew Sage [Protected - Do Not Use]
Edited on on Mon Dec 15th, 2014 @ 12:47pm
Mission: The Last Hope [Incomplete]
Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved.
-William Jennings Bryan
--
Alone.
The clock ticked. It was old, an antique found in a strange shop on a planet whose name had long since been forgotten by the purchaser. It was encased in a dark, finely finished and glossy wood of unknown origin. The crystal face was held in place by a ring of gold, and black metal hands ticked by against a white backdrop. The number 12 was written in gothic lettering, while the places for the other numbers were represented by black dashes. The crystal face was cracked, and the deep, jagged fissure splintered across it, top to bottom, splaying out towards the bottom into many directions.
So… Alone.
The clock continued to tick. The sound of it was booming in the otherwise empty and dark room. Faint starlight poured in from an oval window that looked like an egg turned on its side. The window had strange slits along the outer edge of it, not unlike the black dashes on the clock. The light that drifted into the room was a faint blue one, and cut through the absolute darkness in an ever widening, ever fading rectangular shape. At the center of the light was a stool, and perched on that stood was a single robed figure, hood drawn, shoulders hunched.
So quiet. So…
The clock ticked. The face under the hood grimaced. The eyes, purple with flecks of green and gray in them, were fixed, staring at the ground. Despite the intensity of the gaze, they saw nothing. Metal fingers clicked together, and the hooded figure looked at the clock.
The ticking stopped.
So alone. So… quiet.
The man stood and turned to leave. As he walked he limped, and a heavy metal-on-metal sound could be heard as he moved.
There were others now.
Hands reached out to him, clawing and grasping, dragging him down, only… Only they weren’t. They were holding him up. He had stumbled, fallen, and the hands had rescued him. He allowed them to right him, and, with confidence, he threw back the hood of his robe and looked at each figure.
“I was once known as Amon Hraezla,” he said, looking at the figures around him. “But that name was taken from me a long time ago. The Federation has done everything it can to give it back to me.” He felt the righteous fury build inside. “I reject their help.” His words dipped down low, barely a whisper now. He had their attention. “I reject their name, given to me by weak, individualistic parents.” He cast the robe aside fully, holding out what used to be an arm. “I was once,” he said, his voice first a harsh whisper, “known as,” he continued, his voice rising in intensity, “Amon.” He paused, and then, with a snarl, allowed his voice to thunder across the chamber, “Hraezla. I reject that name!” The mechanical limb whirred and whined. Sensors began to flare and shine an angry red as the intricate cabling and wiring thrummed to life. “I am and forever shall be… One of Twelve!” The Borg arm flashed and he held it straight up. The green light poured out, and the other figures in the room all froze. As it brushed against them they were illuminated. The light caught off of the metal on their faces. Everyone in the room had once been Borg.
The Federation thought it had liberated them. Saved them.
Amon Hraezla knew better. He lowered the arm. Two figures draped his robe back over him and then pulled the hood over his head, shadowing the green flesh in darkness. The Orion took in a heavy breath and then softly exhaled. “The deafening silence will soon be at an end,” he whispered to his followers. “Soon,” he said, limping out of the room, “our suffering will be over. This is the destiny we choose to make for ourselves.”
--
The Last Hope, on its way to Archa IV to deliver Ibraham Stern, make a brief stop to meet with another trade vessel.
Andrew Sage signed the paperwork. “You know our guest isn’t going to be happy about the pitstop,” he said to Leon Coal.
“I’ve already talked to him. We’re taking ten crates to Starbase 332. It’s near his destination,” Coal said. “He’ll just have to deal with it.”
Andrew Sage watched as the large black crates were brought on. “What’s in them,” he asked.
“I didn’t probe,” Coal replied. “The guy paid in latinum. Paid extra for the privacy.”
Sage frowned. He could tell that the pods were all designed with life support systems. Whatever he was taking to the Starbase was alive. Still, the extra pay… He let it go.
--
Drayel opened his eyes. He felt sick, the first time he’d felt sick in years. He clutched at his gut and bit back the bile. “Are you okay?” the blue skinned woman next to him asked.
“Fine,” he grunted, sliding out of the bed. The massive, powerfully built man strode to the window of his room and stared out of it. He… He shook his head. He felt like something… No, he thought. Not something. Someone. Someone was coming.
Drayel almost never talked about it, but on his mother’s side he knew there was a little Betazoid. Distant blood, really. Something about a great, great, great grandfather bringing home a baby. He didn’t know if there was really any weight to it, or if it was just a story, but he did always feel a little blessed. His mother had said he had been born under a lucky star. He didn’t believe in luck, but he’d been in enough close calls to know that it wasn’t all skill. How many times had he just sensed something? Felt a whisper in the air, or a stray thought… Felt… fear that wasn’t his own? Maybe he had a little empath in him.
Maybe he was crazy. He sighed, rubbing his face. “More like, I’m tired,” he mumbled. Still, a thought floated to the surface of his mind. More than a thought, he realized. It was a memory. It made his heart skip, and he rubbed his hands together as though they were cold.
He dressed quickly, ignoring the woman as she asked him what he was doing. He grabbed his uniform jacket and pulled it on, slipping out of his quarters. There was only one person on this station that could help silence the dull, frightening ache that was beginning to develop in the back of Drayel’s mind, and the man barely knew Drayel, would have no idea about any of this. Have no idea about… Drayel paused, and laughed ironically. He knew how silly this was. How could there possibly be anything? It was just a feeling. He was getting worked up over a feeling.
He wanted to go back. He didn’t.
He went to find Jordan Gunning.
--
Captain Vahn Aegis Drayel
Fox Company Commander
and
Andrew H. Sage
Captain of The Last Hope
As played by Vendenje Kamdram
