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Post by Captain Dusk Rose on Jul 25, 2010 20:46:18 GMT -5
Captain's Log Stardate 2370.07.25. The Harrogate is finally free of a borg infestation and en route to the neutral zone. Here we will meet with Romulan Commander Ro'Wena Dar to return the Romulans that have been on board since the incident in System 0071-Q. With crew numbers depleted and tensions high, our stop at Starbase 38 is greatly anticipated by all. I just hope that this transfer is a smooth one.
"How long until we reach the Neutral Zone?" Pennington asked, pacing the bridge.
"One hour, 12 minutes Captain." Nao'po reported from the helm.
"Good...I'll be in my ready room, Gunning you have the bridge."
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Post by Ciel Phantomhive on Jul 25, 2010 21:16:47 GMT -5
"Mhmmmm." That was pretty much all Gunning had said since returning to the bridge barely an hour before. It wasn't at all becoming of the little first officer to be sitting in Khev's lap, half asleep with a far too satisfied look on her face, but it wasn't about to stop her either. She yawned softly, sitting up from her relaxed position to look around.
She wasn't at all excited about returning the romulans, she had only just gotten comfortable with Khev... or rather, he had just gotten comfortable with her, now toying with the sparkly bow in her hair; the one she had attached the scavenged borg laser to as they sat in baited silence.
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Post by Captain Dusk Rose on Jul 25, 2010 21:52:33 GMT -5
Pennington eased into her chair and spun the computer screen around to face her.
"Computer show me information on a Commander Ro'Wena Dar of the Romulan Empire."
An image of the Commander's face, it could have been any Romulan Commander, and her name and rank scrawled across the screen, but nothing more.
"Helpful..."
She leaned back and pulled her knees up in front of her on the chair. "Computer, display current course."
She watched the small graphical representation of the Harrogate crawl along the map.
Romulans, it seemed like they were all over the place these past few weeks. Before 0071-Q it had been seven years since she'd even seen one.
She couldn't shake the feeling that he would be there...even though she knew it was ridiculous, there were hundreds of Romulan ships out there, why this one? He might have forgotten her, or learned to detest her by now anyway...but somehow she knew neither of those were true.
She sighed and started up some music before leaning against her knees and trying to relax.
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Post by Lord Redcoat on Jul 26, 2010 15:34:46 GMT -5
In his mind, Khev thought on the events that morning. Or had it been night? It had been after the ship had escaped. He closed his eyes.
Khev paced. He was within Gunning’s quarters, and his ‘benefactor’ was currently lying in her bed watching him. He watched the ‘porthole’, and stared into space, at the stars, towards home. Home. Such an odd word. Since the effects had worn off, effects from those bizarre Borg, he hadn’t known what to make of it. Under the influence of an alien substance? He was trying to run tests, but he couldn’t. Not without equipment. Somehow, something had whispered in his mind it was the odd Borg, but he couldn’t verify it.
He had been unable to speak to Commander Dharvanek. S'Tarleya Tomalak had been absent too. In fact, he had not seen Valdran or Vreenak either. Since leaving the bridge, he had not seen another Romulan. Were they all dead? His eyes flickered over to the sparkly outfit. It had drawn his eye the first time, and now, since recovering his senses… it had still drawn his eye. He did not care for humans, not at all, but since meeting this one… everything had changed, and not just the alien influence.
It was so strange. He glanced back at her, through the reflection. He was pacing like a caged – what did the humans call them? ‘Lion’, that was it. She would accuse him of being ‘broody’ soon, if he knew anything about women… This was absurd. He needed to talk to his crew. Why was he denied access? He hadn’t overtly asked, but he knew that if he inquired, he would likely to turned down. A ‘security risk’, no doubt. It’s what he would do in their position. …Even if he had saved their precious ship. Could they know that their own had been damaged, that their warbird was barely operational? Damn those Cardassians and Feringi. He gave his uniform a wrench. He was shamed in the eyes of the Empire; that alien… influence had changed him. And to think… there was a Vulcan on board. A Vulcan engaging intimately with Vreenak. Disgusting. But was it any more disgusting than being with a human? A human. What was he thinking? But she was… and how he loathed to say it, she was adorable. And by Romulus, she set his loins on fire. Insanity!
He needed answers. He had to have them. What had the Borg done to him? And that biological agent the Feringi unleashed? That plague. Insufferable to be seen this way! He could not return home. Not until he had answers…
His eyes strayed towards Gunning. He did not like to dwell on what returning home would mean.
He needed answers. More than that, he needed to confer with Dharvanek and Tomalak. How many others had survived?
He could not help but smile when he saw the laser sight still in the human’s hair. Why did he smile? What had possessed him?! Argh! Curse all Borg everywhere!
That had been then. Now Gunning was planted firmly in his lap, and he was on the bridge. His fellow Romulans were nowhere to been seen. He should ask that Captain, that human. Damn Dharvanek's seduction. She should have known it wouldn't work. Dharvanek didn't even like females anyway. ...At least, that he knew of.
He had a headache coming on, but adopted a Vulcan's stoicism. Better not to show weakness in front of the humans; at least the Vulcans had that right, if nothing else. He sighed. Why did he like the warmth emanating from her? It was actually ...nice... having her in his lap. Curse all humans and Federation types!
(I have reprised my role as the Romulans in this special episode! - So under the credits, when the theme music plays, add 'Guest Star Lord Redcoat' (Or 'Q' as you have all taken to calling me...))
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Post by Ciel Phantomhive on Jul 26, 2010 16:42:07 GMT -5
Gunning could feel Khev angsting behind her, incredibly tense, even for a romulan, and it worried her a little. She almost felt bad for the choice they had set before him, she had put in front of him. It was no doubt hard for him, but she didn't dare ask him how he was feeling. Not here on the bridge, at least. He was Romulan, and male, after all, and it would never go over well. Instead she simply turned in his lap and set to rubbing his shoulders, fixing him with a knowing but gentle look. "If you feel like talking," she said quietly, casually, certainly not wanting to press him. "We can always go to the holodeck... or back to my quarters...Good grief, you're like a cat! Don't you ever relax?"
His mouth said nothing, but his eyes hissed at her. Then he smiled, and leaned over and nipped her lightly on the neck. His dark eyes were full of mischief, so un-Romulan. Whatever was he thinking now? Fickle creature.
"Ahh~" Gunning bit her lip after the quiet moan escaped, blushing darkly and swatting Khev's shoulder. Her eyes caught his and mirrored the devious look, one eyebrow raised at him curiously. It was odd to see such an expression on his face. It warmed and chilled her at once, and she wondered if it was wise to be eager to know what was going on inside his head.
(This post was plotted with the nefarious Q)
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Post by Lord Redcoat on Jul 26, 2010 19:06:58 GMT -5
Elsewhere, S'Tarleya Tomalak stood stock still, arms at her hips. Her commander, T'Rehu Dharvanek, paced. They were alone, in guest quarters, while Valdran stood guard. Naturally, they had checked for listening devices and other bugs. They were Romulans Officers and adept at subterfuge, if not perhaps as adept as certain Cardassians spies. At the very least, they were well trained in counter-intelligence.
The two women were looking extremely thoughtful, though the science officer, Tomalak, resembled a Vulcan more and more with each passing moment. The Romulan had a thoughtful expression on her face, her arched brow drawing together at the centre and lifting at the outer edges.
“We need to take our ship back,” Dharvanek said, sounding like a hissing cat. She was not pleased. “The Federation broke their agreement.” “You did vandalise that woman’s ready room.” “She stunned me. We were supposed to beam to the Borg together – she betrayed me!” “You’re saying she slighted your honour by sparing your life?” “It wasn’t hers to spare! I want our ship back! I will not be subservient to – to the Federation!” “You mean, the woman who bested you.”
Rounding on her, Dharvanek hissed, but composed herself; they were not Klingons. Tomalak’s eyebrow simply lifted. “Valdran,” Dharvanek snarled, “We are still alone?” “Yes, Commander.” The Romulan man called back, nodding through the door. Lowering her tone, Dharvanek fumed, “We need to take back our ship.” “You are not suggesting we usurp this one?” “This vessel? Pfah! This is Federation junk! Scrap! Worthless space-debris!” “It also is space-worthy.” Dharvanek glowered, then nodded, stopping her pacing. Had she a tail, it would have been lashing. “What of Vreenak?” “He seems quite… enchanted with the Vulcan. Nao-” “Don’t speak her name!” The commander grated, “Very well. Is it genuine?” “With Vreenak, who can say? Whatever substance that affected us has worn off, but his infatuation has not. Perhaps it is his intent to seduce her for his own ends, our own ends, but perhaps it is more than that. It is hard to say.” “Can he turn her?” “Unknown.” “And Khev?” “Is still,” This time, the stoic mask broke; Tomalak sneered, “that human female’s pet.” Then she considered, “Still, she is first officer. Perhaps it is part of his ploy.” “Two… fools, playing at seduction.” “May I remind you–” “You may not.” “Commander, such tactics have worked before. On the–” “Enough! I said I shall hear no more about that!” Her face almost flushed, but she regained her control swiftly. “I want off this vessel. Now, tell me, are there any other survivors?”
Tomalak shook her head, “None that I am aware of. It seems most were assimilated, or gunned down. It seems the Federation captain ‘forgot’ to issue the order we were allies, or in the chaos, the comms were down. Either way, it seems of the twelve that boarded this ship, we are the only survivors.” “Get a message to Khev; I want to speak with him. Perhaps this ‘liaison’ can be of use.” “Commander, if I may, what if the human captain wishes to drop us off in the Empire’s territory?” “That cannot be allowed. You know that. I need not remind you that we do not exist.” “I am aware, Commander.” “Then act like it. No one can know we’re here. Not the Empire, not the Federation, not the Cardassians, the Klingons, the Feringi, anyone.” “Of course. May I remind you that we might be under surveillance.” “Let them hear,” Dharvanek snarled, “Let them report back to their precious ‘captain’. Perhaps she will listen to reason. We cannot be found out. I would see this ship scuttled before the ‘Empire’ learns of our presence here. The Senators deny our existence. At any rate, I want all traces of our presence erased. Have you made any progress on ‘recovering’ our crew’s assimilated bodies? I want to know what it was that affected us!” “Not as of yet.” “See to it as soon as you can; I don’t care what it takes, ‘convince’ them. Drop that mask of yours if you have to, offer them your thighs. Whatever it takes!” “Yes Commander.” “And Tomalak? We cannot fail. Not now, not when we’re so close. Those Feringi will rue the day they crossed the Empire, and those Cardassians will pay with their lives. No one crosses us. No one.” “And the humans?” “Deal with them.” Her tone softened, “But you are right. They showed us mercy; we should repay it in kind. We owe them.”
The Science Officer inclined her head; debts would be honoured – and as soon as they were, the playing field would be level. Neither friendships or debts would matter at that point. Both knew they had to get off this ship. The question was how, when, and most importantly: to where, or whom. They were in too deeply to be found out now.
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Post by Captain Dusk Rose on Jul 26, 2010 22:00:57 GMT -5
"The Tal Shiar has specific orders that you are not to accept the transfer of the remaining IRW Decius crew members to your ship. Should you choose to accept them, they will be executed as traitors. Do I make myself clear?" Tal Shiar official Isha Jo'rek tightened her grip on the back of Ro'Wena's chair.
"You would banish them for surviving?"
"They are betrayers! They abandoned their own ship and fled to the mercy of a Federation vessel rather than meet an honorable death for the Empire! Are you questioning my authority, Commander?"
"Of course not, Colonel." A muscle in her cheek moved.
"Plot a course for Romulus, Sublieutenant -"
"Belay that!"
The Tal Shiar agent sent the commander a furious look.
"I don't want to be the one to bear responsibility for war with the Federation, nor will I risk the safety of my ship and crew!"
"Commander, you will obey me or your crew will be in much more danger than against an entire fleet of Federation vessels!"
"General," She struggled to keep from yelling. "I will simply meet the Federation ship at our designated location. I do not have to explain the situation to them, I will simply not accept the prisoners."
Jo'rek gave her a patronizing look. "This is acceptable. I will be in my quarters." She slid her finger along the back of Ro'Wena's chair and across the back of her neck threateningly as she walked out.
Ro'Wena gave her First Officer a meaningful look. The sooner that woman was off of their ship, the better.
When Isha had left the bridge, the First Officer approached Ro’Wena. “Yes, Centurion Jarok?” “Commander, a word with you?” Ro’Wena raised an eyebrow. “You have the bridge Centurion Vaebn.”
She lead him to her ready room silently. When the door slid closed she sat and finally spoke. “You may speak freely, D‘Nal.” She looked at the door to hint that the Tal Shiar could still be listening. “It’s about this mission Commander. I think you’ll understand when I tell you that I do not wish to be face to face with one of them again.
Ro’Wena laced her fingers together, watching him. She understood his concern, as one who had been captured by the Federation before he wouldn’t want his loyalty questioned by the Tal Shiar, however… “I am sorry Centurion, but you are my most experienced Officer in dealing with these beings. I should like to have you by my side.” “Yes, Commander.” He saluted her, a little frustration in his eyes, but his every other feature a picture of loyalty. “Dismissed.” The Centurion stood, saluted, and left. Ro’Wena slammed a fist onto her desk. Why humans? Of all the times to be dealing with such scum as when she had a Tal Shiar agent breathing down her neck?!
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Post by Ciel Phantomhive on Jul 27, 2010 2:23:00 GMT -5
Back on the Harrogate...
Casting a quick look around at the crew, Gunning pressed herself closer to Khev, grinding against him in a not so innocent way, masked in the subtly of getting more comfortable. She smirked darkly, amusing herself with the differences between the romulan features than that of humans, keeping him under an almost lustful gaze. A bit odd, yes, but better than twiddling her thumbs for the next hour...
Khev was quite handsome in her eyes, even without the Borg affecting her judgment. Such a stern face, with eyes that could be as hard as diamonds, calculated and cold... but she had seen them soften, lighten to an affectionate warmth that seemed unnatural for a Romulan. She wondered for a moment if it had been only for her, and then quickly rerouted her brain to take in more than his dark eyes.
His lips were softer than she ever could have imagined. Somehow, in the back of her head, she must have thought Romulans would be just as stiff and starched as their uniforms, cold and hard like their attitudes. How wrong she had been! Khev was passionate and strong under his cool demeanor, his skin just as soft, warm and real as her own. He had felt her touches, reacted to them with every bit of the lust she had given.
Tracing the edge of his ear with fingertip, she found herself wondering if their delightfully pointed ears could be just as sensitive, could cause the same sort of arousal when touched, kissed just right...
Without really thinking about it, Gunning leaned in and kissed just below Khev's ear, lingering just a moment to gage his reaction before pulling away slowly.
It was a bad "war" to be starting on the bridge, but with the chance of this being her last hour with him, she felt the need to enjoy it at the very least... He wouldn't be forgetting her anytime soon if she had a say in things.
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Post by Lord Redcoat on Jul 27, 2010 13:21:28 GMT -5
Khev gasped, then closed his eyes, then steeled his face, his composure a cool mask of Romulan steel, and just as unreadable as polished steel. Forcefully, he removed Gunning from his lap, rose to his feet, and marched off the bridge - Gunning's wrist in his hand, his grip unbreakable (unless she was a Klingon, a strong Vulcan or a strong Romulan). Oddly enough, he wasn't brutal, or harsh, just insistent. She couldn't break his grip, and so, she was dragged along.
As soon as they hit the turbo lift, Khev gave the redshirt in the way a cool look, which may as well have been a death-stare, for the redshirt withered and got out the way. Then as the doors closed, the Romulan pulled Gunning into the most passionate kiss she had ever received, leaving her breathless - as the lift headed towards her quarters. Khev had barely grunted the deck number, but the lift was speeding on its way...
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Post by Ciel Phantomhive on Jul 27, 2010 15:02:03 GMT -5
"Khev! I can't leave the bridge! Really, I shouldn't... Ahh~...Oh no, not in the turbo lift, I... Nnnn stop, I... OH Khev! Dammit! I... Ahh don't stop~"
The moment the turbolift stopped, Khev threw Gunning over his shoulder and marched purposefully to her quarters. Gunning landed on her bed with a soft thump. Her breath went out of her, too stunned to speak. Then for the first time, his masculine, ever-so-sexy voice spoke in his harsh Romulan accent (that was better than Picard’s)...
"Lights: Off."
The doors slammed shut.
His voice was liquid sex, dripping cool and warmth, setting her every nerve aflame long before his smooth lips ever touched her. The flick of his tongue’s tip could not have ravished her more than his glorious intone; those two words striking more deeply than any thrust of his throbbing, swelling manhood could. He was a greek god, carved from living marble; flesh beyond flesh, flesh beyond stone. He was... perfect. And she wanted him. She wanted him NOW. RAWR.
Even his teeth were perfect. He was more beautiful than the light of a thousand suns. Not even ten thousand stars could match his radiance, or the glow from his dark, inky eyes. Nothing could compare to such finery; his chiselled physique, that carved masculinity... And those ears; by all the gods that mortals ever dreamt of, those ears... They were more stunning than a vampire’s fangs; more exotic than any far flung beauty. He was the foil to her femininity. The sabre to her dirk. They were two... soon to become as one. She was complete. ...And then he kissed her, his breath moist and warm against her heating flesh; it felt so hot, so enticing... she dreamt only of him all her life, but until now, she had never known it. Never known him. Then the comm went. “Gunning! Where are you?”
Damnit. Damnit to all the hells. “What?” She sighed, resigned. “The captain wants you.” Khev pinned her arm, and threw the badge across the room.
She didn’t object. Her only regret was it didn’t smash against the wall. ...She murmured, “Under the pillow.”
A phaser.
Khev complied. There was a flash of light, sparks, and smoke. Then the phaser went flying to join it. “Computer – belay all transmissions. Reroute to... engineering.” Khev’s voice was more husky, more wonderful in that moment than it had ever been. She wished it would never end. Then, in the darkness, seen only by the stars, he slid atop of her, his Romulan tunic sliding off those smooth, muscles – Gunning’s mind stopped working; her senses registering only the purest of all perfection, right here, in her bed. Had she died and gone to heaven, she could not have been more alone and together: bliss did not even begin to describe it. ‘Are you lonely?’ Ha. Those Borg would never know what this meant, what it felt... it felt so good. So very good.
She nibbled on Khev’s ear. He moaned, and his moan was ecstasy to her ears. It inflamed her, fired her, filled her. She never wanted to let go. There was a buzz at the door. “Other pillow,” she whispered, “don’t throw it.” Khev armed the phaser to stun, and set it to shoot the next person to enter. “Computer, seal the doors. Or by Romulus, I’ll seal them.” “Doors sealed.” ...
( Posted with C's OVERZEALOUS HARLIQUIN WRITING HELP. Go you Twilight styled freak XD)
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Post by Lord Redcoat on Jul 27, 2010 16:03:09 GMT -5
The holodeck whirred to life. Vulcan. A planet of dust, orange and red. Hostile, inhospitable. Home. Home to the cold, logical race, and their suppressed passions beneath their cool exterior.
Science Office Nao’po stood on the simulated cliffs, modulating the phaser to ‘auto-modulate’, finding discrepancies gathered by the computer as to when the Borg personal shields adapted. In her other hand was Vreenak’s disruptor – handheld, not a rifle; that was slung on the Romulan’s back –; in front of her, the Borg disintegrated, unable to adapt his shields.
“Fascinating.”
That was Vreenak, and rather than pay attention, the Romulan Weapon Officer, an expert in his field, as he had plied himself without false modesty through hints to Nao’po, admired her ears. “Most fascinating.”
A pause, and without looking up, suggested, “Alter it by point two, two three. Vary the beam wave length; shorter burst, and narrow the beam width.”
He could have cared less about the ‘planet Vulcan’, but wanted to see her in her natural habitat – upon the sands, another Borg disintegrated. “Tone down the power output; vary it.”
The fine-tuning had been going on for an hour now, and all the time, he ogled her ears, that daring curve and slender arch. He did not even pretend to play with the tricorder.
Nao’po fired at another simulated borg, receiving the same satisfying results. “Fascinating,” She raised an eyebrow. “Apparently the significant variance in modulation between Disruptors and Phasers is too significant to be ignored. However, Disruptors are illegal with in the Federation...”
She examined the disruptor closely. “We must find a way to achieve the same modulation patterns in Federation weapons.”
“Weaker weapons do not win a war,” Vreenak responded with typical Romulan arrogance, but it was said so straight-faced and matter-of-fact that it was not an insult, just an observation. “Take the power cell from the disruptor and place it within the phaser bank; remove the phasers. Set a containment field around the banks, powered by the charge itself. Weaken the blast, so it does not overload the phaser.”
All this he lectured as if she was his student, or an equal, but all the while, he admired her ear.
Nao'po followed his instruction, either not noticing or completely ignoring his gaze. She considered every adjustment carefully before following through, so far she had found his input to be both accurate and logical. “Allow me?” He held out his hand to inspect them. “Your precision is flawless, but it must be fined tuned.” There was nothing rueful, or dark about his tone, “I have had experience of this.”
Nao'po raised an eyebrow. “With converting Federation phasers?” None the less she handed the phaser to him for adjusting. “Of course.” he paused, and critically inspected, "See here, with the buttons? The wiring; it needs to be calibrated just so...” He continued, barely letting his attention slip, but enough to focus the phaser, “I trained with all ‘common’ weapons of other Empires.” He tweaked at it, “There. Now the conduits cannot overload. They build up if you are not careful; subtle, almost invisible. After repeated fire, it detonates the phaser. Useful if you wish it; not so much if you do not.”
He looked up at her, handing it back wordlessly, and took the disruptor and ‘modified’ it. “Now try.”
His eyes drank in each curve, each contour; he could not have been more obvious. “Pon farr - is it true?”
Nao'po had been scrutinizing the conduits when he suddenly asked the question. Her eyes widened slightly and her eyebrow shot up again. “Sorry?”
“Pon Farr. That you are at your most formidable then, that your warriors are unmatched in their prowess?”
He looked at her curiously, then absently blasted a Borg three times, on the same frequency before it adapted. “Intriguing. The phaser's power cell, even at a lower rate, in a disruptor, makes it harder for them to adapt.”
“Fascinating.” Nao'po was studying him now, and the slightest green blush appeared on her face. “Perhaps you have not been...properly informed of the nature of Pon Farr, and it would be best if you were not. Vulcans prefer not to discuss it.”
“Forgive my intrusion.” He seemed nonplussed. “I had heard that it was an ancient mating rite, that throes of passion were involved, beyond anything we Romulans were capable of, a most savage, bestial nature, but I did not believe it. Then warriors were mentioned, and I had assumed that it had referred to a mental state; a purity of focus, a battle-trance, if you will. It seemed more... logical.”
Both of Nao'po's eyebrows shot up. “Ah, so you were not misinformed. Tell me, where did you learn this?”
“I hear things.” He shrugged, “I am a Romulan; how could I not?” Then he arched his eyebrow, “Is there any truth to this, then? That you are warriors beyond renown, and were you to face us in this state, we could not withstand your fury? I hear your might is beyond... imagining. That even Klingons turn and flee like frightened human childs at such rage.”
His words were detached, yet intrigued. “I also heard... there are no females like Vulcans in all the known worlds; that none in the entire Alpha Quardant can match such... passion, or beauty. That your heat... is intoxicating beyond anything we can know. That not even Risa can match such lust.”
Then he shot two more Borg. “It seems the auto-modulation works.”
Nao'po didn't even turn to watch the borgs fall. “It seems you have been...very well informed.”
“Would you be interested in offering a demonstration? For... research purposes.”
(Co-opted with 'The Captain'. This was not a forced cooperation, but written in the spirit of detached unity. For the Empire. And Vulcan. Or something.)
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Post by Beckster on Jul 27, 2010 18:22:55 GMT -5
There is sure a lot of love on this ship right now. Those Borg are inspiring!
. John was taking a break after putting Henry in charge of engineering. He was a little jealous of the others getting to have a little fun while he was working, so it was his turn. He knew Stevey wouldn't argue, but his reaction was unexpected.
. After a slow, awkwardly silent cup of tea together, Stevey and John moved to John's couch. No one knew where that couch came from, but it was there.
. "Aren't you scared right now?" John asked Stevey, who was, at the moment, cuddling against John, partially on his lap. Stevey smiled and shook his head. "You really are confusing," John laughed, playing with Stevey's green hair. "Only the rest of the ship is scary?"
. "Of course. Actually, it's unexplainable," Stevey said quietly.
. "A lot of things are unexplainable, like this," John said, slowly moving his hand to touch Stevey's breast.
. "Actually that is explainable, after years of biology it's very familiar," Stevey said confidently, despite John's groping. "Just like this," Stevey said, quickly climbing onto John.
. Under normal circumstances, John had forgotten how much larger Stevey was than him. He was always hunched and scared, making himself seem so small, but not now. He was tall and strong, and showing it. "Yeah, you're right," John said, his voice squeaking a bit from surprise. Stevey's orange eyes were now fierce, which made John a little nervous because he'd never seen Stevey make such a look, but also turned him on . . . quite a bit.
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Post by Captain Dusk Rose on Jul 27, 2010 20:01:09 GMT -5
"You don't understand doc...we were TOGETHER, I could hear all of their thoughts...I wasn't alone! I wasn't lonely!" Lieutenant Williams was lying down on one of the seats of the counseling office.
"I see, and now you feel?" Warner asked gently.
"Lonely! I'm lonely!" The Lieutenant burst out crying. "This is all the Captain's fault! If she would have returned my feelings I wouldn't have joined the stupid collective!"
"I see. I thought you just said that it was the happiest time of your life?"
"It was! And now it's gone!! You should have killed me with the other borg!!!" He wailed.
"Perhaps we should continue another time hm? Here, would you like some tea?"
"I WANT TO REJOIN THE COLLECTIVE!!"
--- Pennington entered the bridge and immediately noticed its emptiness. Though not unusual for a random hour of the day, the absence of her First Officer and her Romulan...companion... stuck out the most.
As she entered Verity left the Captain's chair and returned to her own duty station as Pennington took back her position.
"Gunning?"
"She left with Centurion Khev twenty eight minutes, thirty three point zero one seconds ago."
"With out informing me?"
"The decision..." Verity tilted her head, trying to translate the approrpiate description into limited human vocabulary. "Appeared to be an abrupt one, Captain."
The Captain sighed. She looked troubled as she crossed her arms. "Computer, tell me the location of Commander Gunning."
=/\="Commander Gunning is currently in her quarters."=/\=
"And Centurion Khev?"
=/\="Centurion Khev is currently in Commander Gunning's Quarters."=/\=
Pennington bit her lip. Her training told her to send a security team to Gunning's Quarters immediately, but her gut told her that it would be an unwelcome intrusion--especially after the last time she had come between Gunning and that Romulan.
"How long until we reach the Neutral Zone?"
"Forty four minutes, fifty one seconds, and -"
"Ok, thank you Lietenant."
"You're welcome, Captain." She turned to her console with simulated cheerfulness.
"Ergh Gunning..." She rubbed her forehead. What a day.
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Post by Lord Redcoat on Jul 27, 2010 22:22:46 GMT -5
Nao'po's face flushed green. “But...but mine's not for another...” She found herself fanning her heating face. “Three days?” He shrugged, then examined the disruptor, “We're in a holodeck, after all. I was hoping for a demonstration. To compare... my prowess with your finest,” his eyes were dark, almost smiling, but they were fixed on her, even though he was looking elsewhere; everything about him was drawn to her in an inexplicable way. “It would not be a... challenge otherwise, and I would... see ancient rites observed. ...For research. To study other cultures, and their lore, as well as their weapons.” What he left unsaid spoke more than what was said. “It...is logical.” She said softly, unable to look away. “Shall I create a program?” She barely managed to keep her expression neutral. He nodded, curtly, then examined the selection of weapons - namely, the phaser and disruptor, and laid them aside. “What would you suggest?” he asked, going over Ancient Vulcan weaponry. He had already chosen, but he was asking out of... courtesy. “For research?” “Computer, load program...kal-if-fee. Safety override by authority of Lieutenant Nao'po three delta one seven bravo.” The scenery around them changed to that of a Vulcan arena. A traditional gong at the center, and a display of weapons lay before them. Vreenak gave her an odd look, but chose to remain silent. But his impassiveness spoke volumes: easy to read, easier than if he'd actually spoken. ‘You have a programme already here - why?’Instead, he walked over to the weapons and examined them. Then slowly, he removed and folded his grey Romulan tunic, stripping down to the waist. His physique was finely chiselled, and broader than a Vulcan's, yet just as defined. He was not as pointed, or arched in the curve of his brow, or cheeks, or ears, not quite, but he was a fine figure of a 'man'. As he adopted the traditional Vulcan robes, he actually passed for one. The transition between Romulan to Vulcan was... staggering. He flowed in as easily as water from one vase to another. The robes he would discard before the duel actually began, but for now... he seemed every inch the Vulcan, and more. He lacked the stone-cold stoicism, but he had a mask of grim steel, and detached determination, as he centred himself. He waited for Nao'po to make her suggestion, but he was already fingering his choice. Nao'po pointed to the nearest weapon to them. “This is the most traditional.” “And this?” Dropping the staff he was examining, he picked up the one beside the most traditional, and examined the length, thickness and heaviness of the stave. It was clear he was going to go with her original suggestion, and discard his own choice. At least, at first. Weapons master or not, he was fighting more than just holograms. "It is often the choice of younger participants." She watched him with an impassive expression, but taking in his every gesture. When he'd dawned the traditional robes he suddenly seemed more dignified, more disciplined...almost Vulcan himself. So naturally, he hefted the most traditional, nodded to himself, then curtly to her, and then looked around. A human would have asked ‘what happens now?’ - Most humans, at any rate. He simply waited, knowing that she would create opponents, or the computer would. They would fight with the gong; that much he knew. ...Besides, he had heard much about this rite, and longed to prove himself within it. "Computer, create opponent. Vulcan male...increase strength times ten." The gong sounded. The hologram adopted a fighting stance; Vreenak mirrored him, his dark grey eyes wary and focused. Intensely focused. There was something about him now that was lacking before; something predatory, but something almost at ease with this. It came too naturally to him; it was as if the stave, heavy at one end, upright-crescent bladed at the other, fitted into his hands as if he had been born with it. From his face, he was unreadable; the hologram charged at him with a mask of contorted rage. The distortion from the usual peace did not last long – a quick lift feigned Vreenak’s primary strike, and his secondary took out the Holo-Vulcan’s throat. It was too easy. Far too easy. He did not even need to gesture ‘next’. The Holo-Vulcan disappeared and was replaced. This opponent was more skilful, and lasted two strikes and a block. Vreenak dispatched him with equal ease; this time with a sweep, tripping the Holo-Vulcan’s legs from out under him, and then a sharp cut downwards, ending him. The third Holo-Vulcan evaded the downward strike and rolled away. Vreenak threw his stave as a spear, and Holo-Vulcan III could not block or dodge it in time. Vreenak retrieved his staff. He had not even broken a sweat, nor had any of the Holograms come close to scratching him. He was very, very good. Even a Klingon would have a hard time against number three. “Seven.” Vreenak requested, half curt command, half distain, but undertoned with respect for Nao’po. If she trained against these… she was deserving of respect. She was deserving of respect simply for designing them. He would not admit it, but they were some of the better holograms he had trained against – if number seven was as good as he suspected, it would be a challenge indeed. (Posted with P. Ba-na-naaa-na-naaa-na, NAAA NAAA NAAA NAAAA)
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Post by Ciel Phantomhive on Jul 27, 2010 23:27:11 GMT -5
Temporarily exhausted, Gunning fell back against one of her many pillows, breathing heavily and grinning up at Khev. Everything from the corners of her lips to the sparkles in her eyes spoke of satisfaction, of the happiness she felt from being in this moment. Drawing him down, she licked at his ear teasingly, inviting him to continue their passions at a slower pace. He ignored her urgings and groaned, allowing her touch to take full effect.
Smirking deviously, she blew lightly against the place she had licked. So their ears were just as sensitive! It was a wonderful revelation, and she instantly set to abusing it. She nipped and licked, purred and blew softly against his ear until he overtook her again with bruising passion. It was such a rewarding game...
A game that went unrewarded by the Romulan; he was in such throes of passion, such fits of agony, of bliss, he was no longer aware of her human-ness, only her delicate touch. It was as if something overwhelmed him, and that animalistic urge manifested as he grabbed and pushed Gunning against the bed, urging her to finish, while all the time, he fell deeper and deeper into his more carnal instincts.
Did Gunning know what she was unleashing? Q didn't seem to think so.
And to think, Q thought, this was all brought on by a sparkly dancer's dress. And a Romulan that fell for a human? Who had ever heard of such a thing?
Such a fun crew this was.
Mortals. Disgusting. Such weakness. To think even Jean-Luc fell pray to it. Q went away again.
Had Gunning any idea that Q's trickery was the cause of her bliss, she would have chanted praise for him between the gasps and moans. Khev was rough and unyielding in his passion, driving her to a new level of ecstasy. If only she had mind to consider how she was going to walk back to the bridge later, but for now everything was full speed ahead.
(( C: "RAMMING SPEED!" Lol posted with C, less Twilight and more Q ))
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