"The Spider's Craft"

by

Kylar Curran, Chief Moneylender to Count Brhode

The Webwitch

Saladin, Mr. Webwitch

"826 - Saving Private Curran, Part 3"

[Set a week before the final events of 'Separation']

Primary Characters:
Kylar Curran, Moneylender to Count Brhode
Victor Demonsson
Grey the Thief

Secondary Characters:
Cragg, Taxman
Three Cronies

****

Like a ghost, Victor stepped around from behind a tree and fired, the 'thump' of the crossbow releasing drowned out in the sound of the horse and the crash that the tax man made as he too was knocked from the saddle by the impact of the bolt as it took him in the side of the head, shattering his skull like an egg. The horse spooked, turned, and bolted back into the clearing, dragging its former rider by one foot trapped in a twisted stirrup.

They were always fools like that, Victor reflected as he began to reload on the move, angling along the edge of the trees to emerge behind the last man. Horses had no place in the woods. They were too loud, too awkward, and made you too slow to react.

Shrieks and a wail erupted beyond him.

Crag's eyes widened as the third man's horse emerged from the trees at a trot, dragging its headless and bloody rider by the stirrup. "Demons!" he hissed, hand falling to his sword. "The Forest Demon!"

"And that will be the last demon you will see, Cragg."

The last horsemen spun in his saddle, at a loss as his last companion's horse bounded off, carrying its deadly prize after having completely forgotten about Curran.

Too bad that at the moment he spun around Curran threw his skiv into the base of his throat to emerge from the other side gored.

Cragg died slowly, but not before he fell from his horse to choke and sputter his last breath out. His last sight was of his devil dog, impaled upon the boar spear that had once been the weapon that would have ended Curran's life and brought him riches beyond belief.

"Give my regards to your father, Cragg. When I killed him, he at least died like a man, in hand-to-hand, one-on-one. You, of course died a coward's death. May you burn in Hades for all eternity." Curran then spit on him and stumbled away into the forest. He had to find out who had intervened.

Victor watched the last man die, feet kicking on the grass, as he reloaded again. The man the four men had hunted was no lamb, lying down for the slaughter. He was like the WebWitch's man - a wolf. Not, perhaps - almost certainly - a creature like Victor himself, but there was nothing wrong with being a wolf. After all, Victor had taken one for his mate.

With a wary eye, Victor stepped forward to the edge of the treeline, watching the lone man in the clearing still on his feet as he stumbled forward. He'd been wounded by the dogs, and from the way he held his shoulder, one of the spears had taken him there, but he kept coming. If nothing else, the man was a determined wolf.

Idly, Victor wondered if he would have to kill him, as well. The thought didn't bother him - not when Poppet's safety was an issue - but it seemed a waste. Perhaps the wounded man merely wanted to talk, perhaps not. He'd know in a moment. With a smooth, gliding step, Victor moved into the clearing just at the edge of the trees where the stumbling man could see him and waited.

****

Grey climbed carefully from the rocks. She was a bloody mess but thankfully most of the blood was not hers. It had been difficult killing the dog with only her dagger but she had managed, escaping with only a nice gash in her arm. Still, it was enough to kill a person, out here in the forest, and would need to be cleaned and wrapped soon.

She rested her head upon a tree, exhausted. There were no signs of fighting now, only the sounds of movement coming towards her and movement near her. She peered around the tree to see a man stumbling towards the trees blindly. She crouched down, slower than ever because of her weight, and waited to see what he would do.

****

Curran blinked away the pain as perspiration dotted his eyelids. He thought he could see a form poised nearby, and tried to focus. Was this the last of Cragg's men? No... He wasn't moving in on him. He seemed to be... waiting?

This must've been the one who had ambushed the former gang, ably taking care of the cronies.

But what was he waiting for? Why not just finish him?

Curran stood up as straight as he could, carefully setting his weight upon his good leg, testing it. He couldn't see clearly, and he felt numb. Good, he wouldn't feel the pain when his life ebbed from him.

"What are you waiting for? I'm an unarmed man! I cannot harm you, so why not finish me off and collect your bounty?" He raised his fists, bloody and bruised as they were. "I'm not going to let you take me alive." He spit on the ground in defiance, daring it.

Victor smiled. Yes, another wolf. This one and the WebWitch's man could have come from the same litter. "Don't want you."

That was an unexpected answer. The voice had all the appearance of being strained, like it didn't want to be forced to use its mouth.

"Every man, woman, and child in Galaxia wants my head, demon. What makes you so different from them? If you think this is going to make me drop my guard, you've got another thing coming. Namely, my hands on your throat." He tried hard not to blink, lest he miss the first move on this so-called savior's part. This had to be a trap.

"You're not good to eat. Haven't hurt me or mine. No need to kill you." Victor frowned and looked around, suddenly aware that Poppet wasn't emerging from the rocks like she should be.

"Eat? I should hope not." The ache in his leg was getting more pronounced. He could no longer feel anything but the pain. Not good if the numbness goes away and leaves pain.

"So what are you waiting for then? More of your friends to come out and play? Why not? I'm worth a lot of gold. I don't even have to be alive for you and them to cash in."

Victor kept looking towards the rocks, searching for his mate, even as he answered, "Gold? Gold is worthless, just rocks the color of the sun. Let men kill each other for it if they want to. It buys nothing here."

"Quite playing these damn games! Do you fear me?" He cautiously took a step forward, gritting against the pain as he crumpled to one knee on the rocky terrain.

"See? I'm easy pickings for you now." Spots danced in front of him. He was on the verge of passing out, but he refused to meet death in anything other than head-on. On his own terms.

Eyes only for his mate's appearance, Victor frowned as she didn't appear. "No need. We're not men here, to kill without reason."

"You have the shape of a man. You poise like a man. You talk like a man. If you are not a man, then what are you?" He kept wary. The daystar was now nigh, and the heat bore down on him intensely. All this non-man had to do was wait, and the natural way of things would do the job for him.

He may have to start something here, but not quite yet. There was something odd about this non-man. He appeared unconcerned with Curran as he kept glancing towards the forest.

"Lose something?" He sneered as he knew his companions had left him to his own aims. Probably waiting in the woods for them to kill each other and take claim on both.

"Not a man. A demon." The words were delivered with a casual certainty, as if the speaker believed them implicitly himself.

Curran squinted his eyes. Something wasn't right here, and he couldn't put his finger on it. His head just swam too much for anything to make sense right now. Lost a demon? Then, from somewhere nearby, a rustle of leaves and bush. Very slight, but not quite right. There was no wind, as the air was deathly calm and cool near the treeline.

Grey left her hiding space, moved with care towards Victor and the injured man. She kept her arm by her side, trying to delay Victor's concern, but he saw the blood anyway. "It's nothing." Grey told him.

"Nothing does not bleed," he corrected, examining the wound carefully. She would say it was nothing if her arm was almost torn free. Still, this time she had the right of it. If he washed the injury out and bound it carefully she would not even have a scar.

"He's injured. Do we bring him?" She winced.

Victor looked up, recalling the injured man for the first time since he'd seen Grey emerge from the trees. "No. He's a wolf, wants to make his own way."

She looked at the man. "Are you of Flitt's?"

He sniffed the air, tasting blood faintly, but not feeling any differing hostility towards him.

"What or who is Flitt?" He remained suspicious and raised his guard another notch.

Grey shrugged. "Then youre no concern of mine. Be well, stranger."

Victor paused and leaned closer to Curran, waiting until the injured man focused on him before speaking. "That way," he pointed through the trees. "Sixty steps to a trail. Follow it to the setting sun. If you're strong enough, trail ends where woman will heal you. If you hurt her, and her man does not, I will kill you." He paused again. "Understand?"

"I understand enough that if you are leading me to a trick, I will kill you with my last breath." He grappled with his instincts. One wanted to strangle this man so close to him, and die in glorious battle. Another wanted to accept his word and make it for another day, if he lived another day.

At this moment, though, the decision was made for him. The Demon and his woman turned their backs on him, undaunted by his threat, and slipped back into the woods.

His eyes darted from the woods, to the break in the trees the man had pointed to him. Better to die another day. He took the path.

"826 - Torn Apart" [Backpost]

[Begins immediately after the final events of 'Separation']

Primary Characters:
Grey the Thief
Victor Demonsson

Secondary Characters:
Kling First Knife V'kela
Kling Scout First Hrask
Kling Scout Commander Lurgh

****

Galaxia
The Dark Woods
Laura Harper's Cottage
Separation Plus One Hour

"This? This is the one that killed the best scouts you had?"

That was the voice of the Kling's leader, Victor had determined that immediately. At least, the leader of this group of them anyway. The warriors wouldn't have tolerated the scorn in the voice from anyone else. He didn't need to be able to see through the bag they'd draped over his head for that.

"Yes, my Lord."

This one was the surviving leader of the scouts that had been camped at the cottage - and one of the men Victor had injured in the fight. The rasping sound of his voice marked him as the one Victor had cut across the throat with his stolen dagger.

"This one man. *He* is the one that killed seven of the best scouts in the army?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Victor considered interrupting to tell them that he'd only killed six of the scouts, but something told him that the longer they went without knowing that he spoke Kling - not well, but enough to understand what the men were saying thanks to his family's travels when he was a child - the better for him. Besides, if they were too stupid to tell the difference between one of the Web Witch's man's kills and his, he saw no reason to enlighten them.

"The same one man who killed five more men - one of them your Scout Commander - despite the fact that you had him at a ten to one disadvantage, as well as killing one of my personal guards and wounding me?"

"Six, my Lord."

"What?"

"He killed Six, my Lord. Scout Second Karg died of his injury a short time ago."

Victor smiled under the sack. That must have been the one he'd gotten low with the dagger at the end.

"Six. Seven counting my guard." The leader's voice was rising angrily. "Another two besides myself wounded. If he hadn't been rushed with his shot he would have killed *me* as well. As it was, that damned bolt would have killed me anyway if not for the fact that I was turning when it passed through Drag's body - I've never seen a crossbow with such power. If I hadn't been there, he would have made the other side of the clearing and been gone before you could stop him, gone and back to the Lefederan War Council with the knowledge that one of their own was selling us information!"

Victor tried his bonds again, with equally futile results to the ones he'd gotten the last time. The ropes were too tight, he was caught. There was nothing to do but wait, then. They would kill him or not - he couldn't stop them - but if they were careless, he'd have the chance to take at least one or two more with him before he was free to run on the wind. He'd traded all the years he had left to make sure they didn't have Poppet, and it was worth it. She was alive and well, her soul singing to his clearly when he closed his eyes and listened for it. Nothing else mattered but that.

"I know that, My Lord - but he didn't. We stopped him."

A booted foot crashed into Victor's side. "If we won all our battles by so close a margin, then the Lefederans would be marching on Kling-Haz right now, Scout!" The boot crashed down again and again. "Get your men together, we're returning to our lines."

"And the prisoner, my Lord?"

Victor's smile never wavered under the rough fabric of the bag. He would miss Poppet and the child he'd never seen, miss holding her, loving her, seeing her frown melt as he kissed her. He would miss so many things that he'd never thought would be his - but he'd had them now, and that was all that mattered. He would watch over his mate and their child from the wind as the old woman did until they were all together again.

"Bring him with us. The Knives will see if they can loosen his tongue and pry what he knows from him. We have to know if the Lefederan Council suspects."

****

Galaxia The Edge of the Dark Woods Daro Cole's Encampment Separation Plus One Hour

Grey awoke slowly, her head throbbing. She moved her hand to the back of her head and found that her other hand followed, the pair of them bound tightly together at the wrists by a well knotted rope. She grunted and sat up too quickly. The room swayed and Grey blanched slightly.

"Careful." A voice said.

Grey blinked and waited until her vision cleared. A soldier sat beside her but out of her reach. He wore the colors of Flitt. She scowled and looked around her. It was not a room but a tent. They were on the move towards home.

Not home, she thought. Maybe once but its polluted well.

"Would you like something to drink, Lady Ella?" The man asked politely. Grey flinched but nodded. She rested her bound hands lightly across her stomach. The man handed her the drink and she gulped it down greedily before handing the cup back to him.

"You take me back to Flitt?" She asked calmly.

"Yes. You are the prize to be given by Lord Daro. Although, I question whether he would want you in your condition."

My poor Harper, she thought sadly. What's to become of you? "I would rather die than be taken back there. I will kill them." Grey stated.

The man nodded. "I will keep watch for both, my lady."

*******

Galaxia
The Kling Encampment
Tent of the Knives
Separation Plus One Day, Six Hours

Victor woke before the three Kling entered the tent, the sound of their voices reaching him as he rested and snapping him to wakefulness.

"...all this time, and you've only captured one scout?" The speaker was a woman, the first Victor had heard since being captured. Her voice was deep, like a throaty purr. "Is he at least the one that...?"

"Yes First Knife." That was the leader of the scouts from the woods, the one that had pulled his man in front of him to save his own life. "This is the one that killed the seven scouts earlier."

"And how many more did it cost you to capture him, Scout Commander?" The First Knife's voice dripped scorn.

"Seven."

"Umm..." The third voice was that of the Scout First that Victor recalled from the forest. "No, Commander, eight. Thrag died as the healers tried to work on the stab wound he received."

The First Knife's voice rang with acid laughter. "Eight? He killed Eight? And there were how many of you, Scout Commander?"

"Fourteen, counting myself and my guards, First Knife." The grudging words can from just outside the hide door of the ten where Victor hung in darkness from the wooden frame they'd tied him to.

"Fourteen." The woman was beyond scornful now. "How mighty the Scouts of the Kling have become that one man can kill so many without assistance."

"There was another," the Scout First interjected. "But they were dealt with by the traitor's men."

"I see no improvement in your performance based on that," the First Knife hissed. Come, let me see this master of killers."

The hides were thrown back, the burst of light almost blinding. Victor sensed the three enter as he blinked, and tensed in the shadows of the frame, waiting for his chance. The fools had left his legs free, and they would pay for that.

"Here, the Scout Commander rasped angrily.

"He seems normal enough," the First Knife sneered. She was attractive, perhaps even beautiful, in the way of her people, but there was as little mercy in her black eyes as that of a snake. "I expected someone... larger... from your description." She stepped forward and caught Victor by the hair, jerking his head up so she could see his face.

Victor met her eyes unafraid and smiled back at her - the smile that he'd never shown Poppet, the one that he kept hidden inside him, the one that bared his soul to the world and showed him for what he was.

The Kling woman's eyes went wide and she released him instantly, carefully taking a step back, and then another, watching him intently all the while. "You lucky, lucky fools," she breathed once she was safely away from the frame.

"What?" The scout Commander sneered. "Afraid of him?"

"You have no idea what you've caught, do you?" she answered, never taking her eyes off Victor. Her hand dropped to one of the several knives she wore and grasped the hilt, ready to draw it.

"What we've caught?" The Scout Commander frowned. "He's just a man, First Knife. And he's tied to the questioning frame. What's wrong with you?"

"I've only seen one like him before," she whispered. "It was years ago, when I was just an Apprentice. He got free and killed five of my sister Knives and a pair of guards before they brought him down with bows as he was breaking the neck of a guard targ with his bare hands. He a demon, a murder-demon."

The Scout Commander snorted. "You're mad. He's dangerous, but he's just a man, nothing more." He stepped up and slapped Victor hard enough to twist his head aside. "see, he's nothing to fear!"

"No, you fool!" The First Knife hissed, stopping herself as she started to move forward. "Get away...."

Victor struck before she could finish, one foot crashing into the Scout Commander's knee to drop hi to the ground, another striking him below the belt to double him over, and then a final stamp catching the Kling warrior in the throat, crushing it. Victor never looked down as the Kling strangled in his own blood, flopping and twisting like a gaffed fish, his choked gurgles filling the tent, the man was dead and they all knew it. What was important was the other two and their reactions. If they tried to rescue their comrade, then they would come in range too....

The First Knife stopped the Scout First with a hand on his arm. "No. he's dead - if you try to reach him, the demon will just kill you too."

"But..." The scout looked at Victor again and stopped once he'd seen Victor's face. "yes, I think you're right."

The woman backed out of the tent slowly, dragging the Scout with her. "I will get my sisters and we will deal with him. See to your men, Scout Commander."

"Scout Commm... Oh. Yes, First Knife! At once!"

Victor watched them leave, disappointed. He'd hoped to kill the Scout as well, but that was all right. The woman had said that there were more of her sisters coming. His smile broadened as the Kling at his feet gave a final twitch and went still. Plenty more to kill before he was done.

****

Galaxia
The Edge of the Dark Woods
Daro Cole's Encampment
Separation Plus Three Days, Six Hours

Grey lay quietly upon the earth of the tent. Her life had been routine the past few days. Get up to ride, get food occasionally thrust at her, and then rest in the tents at night. All the while bound hand and foot. The ropes around her wrists were still tight, the skin rubbed raw, because her assigned companion checked them every morning. But the ropes around her ankles were looser. She may have been a prisoner but he considered her a lady.

Fool, she thought with a raised eyebrow. It was approaching midnight now and Grey sat up carefully, which seemed like a monumental effort as of late. A few more days Harper, she told her child. Wait just a few more days be born. She eyed the opening of the tent eagerly. Soon her guards would change, the ugly boor that watched her now to be replaced by her kinder, if too watchful, one. But they had created some sort of twisted friendship between them over the last few days and now was the time to put it to use.

The flap of material opened and her friend entered. The ugly one spat at her as he left but was otherwise cordial. It sure beat the shiner Daro had given her yesterday. She waited a half a beat after he left before setting loose the tears. And good man that he was, he went to comfort her. How could he not?

She killed him quickly, made sure that he didn't suffer, with his own knife that hung from his belt and then cut a whole in the tent and quietly slipped away.

****

Galaxia
The Kling Encampment
Tent of the Knives
Separation Plus Four Days, Three Hours

"Be careful you fools, if he gets free he'll kill all of us!"

Victor wasn't certain about the accuracy of the First Knife's statement. A dozen warriors were more than he realistically could expect to do much against, and that wasn't counting the three archers the First Knife had stationed out of reach. Still, if the opportunity came, he'd do his best not to disappoint the woman.

The warriors grunted and took a bit more care in their work after the warning. Victor thought that the glances they kept throwing the archers was as much the reason as any fear of him. The First Knife had been quite clear in her orders to the bowmen to start firing at the first sign Victor was free, and not to stop until he was dead - no matter who they had to cut down to ensure that.

With more care than they'd showed when they had first approached - Victor supposed the two men he'd killed before they'd learned to stay at angles his feet couldn't reach had taught them that if nothing else - the Kling slowly shifted the wooden frame out of the tent and into the open.

There were fewer onlookers than Victor had thought, but the clouds of smoke from the direction of the city told him the reason for that as he blinked at the change in light levels. They were all trying to break the stone walls around Galaxia so they could loot and kill until there was nothing left. Man. Victor would never understand why he killed for no reason.

His attention returned to the First Knife and her men. These, now, he had reason to kill them. He smiled at the nearest Kling, the killer's grin widening as the soldier stepped back a pace. Yes, these he would kill as soon as the opportunity arose. Kill, and then forget. He had more important things to do than recall them once they were gone.

Once the frame was out in the open, the warriors retreated and the First Knife moved closer, staying just outside Victor's reach. "Listen to me Murder-Demon," she said in slow and careful Lefederan. "There are questions I must ask. You will not answer them, I know, but my masters will not understand that. They think you just a man, but I know you for what you are."

Victor smiled for her.

She turned away and gestured, three men moving up with poles that had looped ropes attached to them from each side. Victor frowned, trying to decide what they were for, and then growled as their use came to him. The men were to capture his legs with the ropes so he would be immobilized.

Despite his efforts, it was only a matter of time before first one leg, and then the other, was snared and pinned in place. Other soldiers ran in to anchor them to the frame, immobilizing him, followed by others with buckets of water that they sluiced over him again and again to wash away the dirt and waste that his days of captivity had left on him and his clothing.

Then, and only then, did the First Knife approach closer, her eyes bright as she studied him from close range. "Yes," she said, her voice lowering, "I know you" She stared at him for a long moment, her dark eyes looking at him in a way that Victor didn't understand. "I will be swift in my asking - these fools think you just a man that will break like a rotted twig, and they will believe me when I tell them that you know nothing." Her smile widened slowly, now a predator's grin that Victor knew well. "And then you will be mine, demon. Mine to do with as I will."

“YR 826: Of Captains and Klings”

Captain Adrian of Eldereth
And
Commander Thedra Cabellar (APC - Ian)
Plus A multitude of NPC’s

“READY THOSE BLOODY CANNONS!” He shouted ferociously, checking to make sure that all was secure. “Longswallow.”

“Sir?”

“Give the order to fire. I’m going below…” He trailed off angrily. “I never should have brought her or my children aboard.” He mumbled just within hearing range of the First Mate

Zerhi sat quietly at a desk while her son’s Maxim and Ancelyn stood opposite of her with a map showing their current position in between them. The battle had not raged for more than ten minutes as several more Kling ships joined what were was currently a match of four against one. The ship has so far been lucky, with cannon balls either falling before they hit, over aimed as they went flying over the ship and to the other side. They could hear the battle outside raging gruesomely as the Fire Star ‘s cannons reverberated throughout the ship in a massive *THOOM* causing the boys to jump in response. On instinct, they looked back to see their father approaching; a dark look crossed his face as his gaze hit the map before them.

“Father, we’re still too far out,” Ancelyn announced gloomily. “We’ll never reach the shores in time, they’ll cut us to bloody ribbons in no time!”

“What I don’t understand is why they are firing at us? We’ve never attacked them, let alone given them, any excuse to. We don’t even fly Lefedera’s flag!” Maxim added.

The thirty-eight year-old man looked at the both of them and nodded. “They probably assume that we are spies of the government, or perhaps issuing them supplies. In any case, it gives them enough excuse to attack us, regardless.” He gestured to the map. “So, anything?”

“Well,” Zerhi met his eyes. “There this area here,” She pointed down at an area marked with clouds. “If we can make it to the fog, we could loose them, and circumnavigate back to Lefedera and send word of a near definite attack form the sea.”

“Ai,” He nodded, and smiled back, the first smile he’d issued in ages. “I knew I married you for some reason. Still haven’t lost your touch, have you my Love!” He turned back to the map. “I just wish we had reinforcements-”

The Fire Star shook as a cannon ball struck its side, but thankfully, the internal damage could be fixed. It wasn’t enough to sink it. The Fire Star returned in kind with a hail of cannon balls and two unusual catapult shots, before breaking off at full speed into newer waters…

*****

Under the cover of the rolling fog, Commander Cabellar stood upon the marauder's bow, leaning out over the ship's sprit, as if his very stare could penetrate the mist.

"Damn this fog! We'll never get this cargo to Galaxia in time!" He cut a meaty fist down, cracking it on the mahogany railings, whilst gripping the moorings holding his sails out in the slight wind. The waves lapped lazily against the port side of the ship.

"There's a grand storm coming. I can feel it." He sniffed the air, drank the salty scents in deeply. God, he loved the sea. No land for this Andoril.

Thunder rolled in the distance and a flash up ahead caught his attention. "Did you get a view of that up there, Derlin!? He'd pivoted, cupped his hands and had called up to the crow's nest 30 feet above the schooner-sized ship.

"Aye sir!" He couldn't see through the swirling mist - it engulfed everything - but he knew the Second Mate had his eyepiece out and doing his best to peer out through the murky shroud. It was a long wait. The ship's complement was oddly silent. The area was known for its rocky corals and reefs. Many ships had been grounded here. It was a virtual graveyard underneath them.

They were all silent in waiting for the grind that was known oft to come, even though their Captain has sailed through these routes several times before.

The ship rocked ever so more in the waves.

Why had the light followed the clap of thunder?

THOOM! CRACK!

Thedra's eyes widened madly as the gist of what was occurring fell upon him.

"Pirates!" He barked out the orders as he tore through the rigging, barrels, and spar as it swung about in catching the wind. "Man the guns, furl in the sails, tie-down the riggings, HARD to PORT!" He hopped the steps to the bridge of his ship 3 at a time and tossed the First Mate aside. "Get the men on the cannons and dispense arms, 'Mate. We're gonna have company!" His muscular arms pulled taut as he twisted the ship to port to avoid the schooner that had just appeared out of the mist ahead.

"I just hope the others can take care of themselves..." Sweat broke out on his brow as the two ships bumped to the ominous sounds of creaking.

Like a prophetic sign, the mist stopped cold, and from behind Theodra's schooner appeared two more vessels, matching the Andoril Captain's 75' footer plank for plank, bristling with cannon's ready to fire.

*****

At the ship’s wheel, the Captain glanced back at his First Mate in confusion. Entering the fog, it was as though a silence had consumed them, making it as quiet as a cold tomb. Having navigated these waters before, the Captain took the wheel, and beginning a large semi-circle to bypass the Kling ships. So far, so good.

Everyone’s spirits seemed to be lifting as smiles could be seen all over the deck..

Smiles gave way to concern when they heard a thunderous sound echoing loudly as it was carried by the thick, vaporous mist and into their ears. Many of the men raced over to Larboard and Stern side as they heard the sounds of raised voices barking out orders from two distinct ships. Several of them turned their heads towards the Captain for any orders that he might have.

His head shot straight up. “Ackersly,” Adrian called up to the Crow’s nest above. “Anything?”

“Not yet sir, the fog’s still too thick to see anything.”

“Jacobs, take the wheel. You’ve sailed these waters with me before, and know them as well as I.”

“Aye sir.”

Maxim and Ancelyn came up on desk to see what the commotion was about and found a silent crew looking at their father, eager to follow whatever orders he was going to give. They stood at the entry, and waited as well.

“Men,” He walked down the stairs, removing his gloves, by the Sacred Jewels he hated speeches. “There is another ship out in that fog, in possible peril from the Klings who followed us in. It’s likely they’ll be could face an onslaught from multiple attacks. And it seems we may be the only ship in range to help.”

He looked at each one of them under a long silence while sounds of cannons began to thunder in the background.

“Captain,” Longswallow spoke up behind them. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we’d follow you into Hell and back!”

A loud cheer followed this up as crewmen raised their swords high in the air.

“Very well, Jacobs, turn us about! Make ready with those cannons! Let’s see if these bastards can play on a level playing field for a change!” He ran over to the Stern and there, unfurled a Flag. It was a silver flame, wreathed in a crown of azure stars on a Purple backdrop. The colors were rich, vibrant, and above all special. “And old symbol,” He muttered, running back to the bridge. Let’s just hope they see it through this thick soup, and get the message!”

Advancing closer, they could see the outline of the ship facing towards them... or away from them. The Captain took out his eyepiece, did a quick scan of the ship, and caught site of a flag at the end.

"It's Andoril!" He declared then said. "Sellers, send word to Andoril vessel that helps on the way, and try to be as discreet as possible!"

Advancing closer within a range of adequate vision, the Captain could tell that the Andoril ship's attention was turned to the... three vessels before them, about to fire.

Adrian gave Sellers a note. Sellers took the note and placed in on an arrow. Grabbing his Composite Longbow, Sellers took careful aim at the mast, and then, released. He watched it hit its marked and smiled with satisfaction as he hopped off the cabin roof.

OOC: Yeah, okay, btw, disregard any mention of Erin as Cass' lover. Don't know what crack I was on that day. Rima is supposed to be it, in an odd manner that i haven't gotten to go into yet.

“Fighting Chance” - Part 2

Lieutenant Colonel Sir Cassius Henderson, Knight Commander of the 3rd Battalion/Crimson Banner
Major Dame Rima Pennington, Knight Errant of the Crimson Banner
Lieutenant Dame Erin Thorne, Paladin of the Crimson Banner

-Bridge Hill, Galaxia-

Lieutenant Colonel Sir Cassius Henderson stood with his two closest friends on Bridge Hill. Major Dame Rima Pennington, his second in command, and Lieutenant Dame Erin Thorne, his former page. Behind them were assembled four hundred and twenty one of the best knights in the order. All that remained of a one thousand man unit that had been assembled nearly five years before. They'd lost a lot of damn good men and women. Brynn deColton, killed less than a year before, when a Kling scout had shot her in the throat with a bow as she lead a rear guard action. That one always stuck out in his mind.

And now they were the flank. They would stand on the hill and fire their new rifles down on the Kling troops as they advanced. Henderson and the Galaxian lords were hoping for a massed Kling attack on the center, as was so common. So many times they'd seen a weaked center break before massed Kling hordes, but hopefully today would be different. Down at the base of the low ridge between Bridge hill and Na'Chell's hill was a maze of wire and wood, with compost and latrine fillings mixed in for flavor. Behind them were dozens upon dozens of Lefederan longbowmen. On Na'Chell's hill were Duke Hoth's crossbowmen, and behind the lines were the Lefederan foot soldiers and Duke Price's Knights of the Outback, named for his lands' plains.

Turning his back on the plains between the forest and river and their hilltop defenses, Henderson walked back to his lines. His men were sitting and talking, waiting behind trees, rocks, logs,broken fences. He himself had chosen an old stone wall of a house that had long ago fallen down, midway through their deployment. He walked back and lay down on the grass behind it, next to Rima and Erin.

"So how long?" Rima asked impatiently, fiddling with the lock of her rifle. She was greatful for the new weapons. They shot farther than the crossbows, and the damned bows before them. And even a sling was better than fighting in melee. She hated it. Of course, part of that might have been because in truth, Rima was really something of a wimp and a coward. A good shot and strategist though.

Henderson shook his head at her in a mock exasperated fashion, "Not long now. Maybe an hour, maybe a few minutes. We'll be fighting soon. Hopefully this time we'll stand a fighting chance at it. No more retreats." He was tired of the fighting. Looking back on it all, farmer was looking like a better occupation...

He brushed the thought aside. There was no way he could have been anything but a paladin. The sense of duty and honor was too strong in him. The need to protect the people, and bring justice to those who deserved it. Which, he reflected, was not always the same thing as those who the people saw as enemies. His mind flicked back to the webwitch, and the thief. He remembered them from his original trip to Galaxia... Where were they now?

"I'm thrilled, let me tell you, Cass," Rima said sarcastically. She had never wanted to be a knight. She'd been a monastery dropoff. She'd actually wanted to be a baker, but her parents had sent her to the monastery instead, because they had wanted a soldier, and her brother and been killed long ago, by the Kling.

"I know, Rima... I know..." he said, closing his eyes and pulling his hat down over his face. A brief nap...

"Here they come!" Erin shouted, "Everybody get in position!"

Henderson rolled to his feat and brought his rifle up and laid it across the wall. Rima balanced hers though a hole in the wall. They were ready. The next fifteen minutes were the longest fifteen minutes in Cassius Henderson's life. When they were over, he would know if his plan would work.

But the Kling didn't come straight on. They charged at an angle, to hit Hoth's position and turn the flank. They would bypass the hidden ditch of rubbage. Somehow, they'd known. Somehow, they'd guessed...

"Shit..." Pennington muttered. And just when she was starting to think Henderson knew what he was talking about.

Cassius frowned as Hoth's men opened up on them at range, followed by the Lefederan longbowmen. The footmen moved to reinforce Duke Hoth, but suddenly a second force of Kling appeared directly to the rear, crashing into the Lefederan forces.

Henderson had no choice. His plan was shot to hell before it could even begin. Whispering an oath to his deity in the hopes that he could effectively organize a retreat into the walls, he walked back to the signal corps group and began issuing orders. They would fall back to the walls, and then he would face the assembled lords.

tbc...

OOC: Feel free to post your battle posts. The Kling have just marched through the woods and turned the Galaxian left flank, bypassing the Lefederan's concealed trench of doom. A second force emerged from the rear and are hitting the melee units. Orders, make an organized retreat back to the walls.

"First Meetings"

Grey the Theif
Curtis Geluf, Wandering Minstrel

Year 826

Grey walked quietly down the road in the dark. The battle was raging somewhere off to the left of her but she didn't care. She kept walking, her feet remebering having taken this path years before. It would eventually lead into the forest and the forest would lead eventually to Victor.

If he was still alive.

She stopped for a bit, her stomach twisting slightly. It would be soon now for Harper to come into the world. Her water would probably break by morning if she was reading the signs that the Webwitch had taught her correctly. She could make Laura's old cottage by morning but that wouldn't do any good if the Kling were still using it for a base camp.

Grey shrugged and began walking again. She would just have to try her luck. She wouldn't be able to make it to the cave or the Webwitches in time. It hurt slightly to know that Victor would not be there for the birth of their child but Grey pushed that thought out of her head. Now was not the time for regrets. Only motion.

***

Curtis hoped he was making the right decision. He had only been in Bageur a short while when a feeling in his gut told him to return to his now-home. He couldn't run away from the war, Galaxia meant too much to him. So it was with a heavy heart that he left Kiora in the care of friends and made his way back. The road was long and he missed his wife, but at least he knew he was doing right.

Moving swiftly along, for he had always been quick with his feet, Curtis suddenly stopped as he heard a distant sound. Crouching, he listened harder and could tell that a human was comming towards him, though by the sound of things, rather clumsily. Perhaps injured?

Moments latter, he saw a fully pregnant woman emerge from the distance. She seemed badly roughed up and in need of help. It was then that she noticed him as well.

Grey drew her knife and watched the stranger with careful eyes.

Curtis was taken aback for an instant, but quickly decided that in her current state, at least, she was no match for him.

"Come now." He said to her, "There is no need for that! I am but a wandering minstrel, or was at one time. I see you are injured, you must be weary. Might I be able to gain your trust somehow?"

"No." She said, the idea of talking to anyone but Victor still strange to her. "But if you give me some food, I could tolerate you better."

Wasting not a moment, he nodded and reached into his sack. Moments later, he produced a small, fresh looking loaf of bread. Gently, he offered it to her.

She grabbed it and started to jump back out of habit but found her feet unsteady. Grey frowned as she rocked a bit and then shrugged and began to eat. "I thank you." she said between mouthfulls.

Curtis waved a dismissive hand, "Not at all. But tell me, if I may ask, what are you doing in such a place? Are you a traveler like myself?"

Grey shook her head. "I live in the forest. I was captured by the men of the city. Traitors. But it's all right now. I'm going home."

"Have things become so bad..." Curtis started in disbelief. The woman before him was remarkable. Young still, less than 30 by Curtis' reckoning.Yet she seemed to bear a greater weight than simply an unborn child. She was hidding some pain, he could sense it.

"If I may...you seem troubled by more than mere injury. Has something more happend?" he asked.

Her eyes teared but she refused to give the tears free reign. "My...husband. I don't know what happened to him. If he lives or not."

Curtis felt all at once sorry for her. "That is grim indeed..." he began, then, sensing the need to perhaps cheer her, or at the least give hope, "Though the consolation of a stranger may mean little, I would hold out hope for the best."

Grey managed a wan smile. "Think you?"

"I do. If your husband is as strong as you, I think you need not fear." Curtis said. "I believe an introduction is in order, perhaps. I am Curtis Geluf, a wandering minstrel, or at least I used to be." he said, offering his hand.

Grey hesitated before holding out a dirty hand. "Poppet."

He took it and gave it a short shake, but the strength behind the return was little. Curtis' attention was again drawn to the woman's pregnancy.

"All right then, Poppet. If you trust me, I might suggest you come with me, you seem not long from giving birth, and I may be able to help." he offered.

"Where do you head?" She asked him.

"I head home. At least, what was once my home. I left it not so long ago. I have a feeling it has been untouched by the war, it is rather out of the way of anything and everything. It is not far from here and the comforts of a home might do you some good until you recover."

Grey considered. She didnt know why but she trusted this man and she usually lived by her instincts. Besides it would probably be safer in the long run. She gave a wistful look at the trees but then nodded. "My thanks again." Grey said as they began walking.

***********

They reached the house by morning and Grey didnt have a second to look around before Harper began to try to enter the world. Grey gasped at the first sudden pain and then reached out for Curtis' arm for support. "My baby..."

Curtis was immediately at her side, supporting her as he walked her to the bed in the back room. Gently, he laid her down and began to get blankets and other things. All were where he had left them, it seemed the house had been untouched as he had hoped.

"Try to relax," he told her as he bussied himself with preparations. "I have done this once before. It was long ago but the knowledge remains."

"Knowledge?" Grey asked, shaking her head. What was he blabbering about?

Curtis met her gaze, "You're in labour. The child could come as soon as five minutes from now, or as late as tommorrow."

Grey found herself wanting to wimper. Tommorow!

"I know the pain must be great, but hold out." he said, returning from the blanket closet and wrapping her as best he could. "I will stay it out with you as long as it takes."

*** A few hours later ***

Grey's love for Victor knew no bounds but she found herself cursing his name. Somehow, this was all his fault. She panted, sweated, swore, and pushed.

Curtis tried his best to remain calm, but Poppet was using curses he didn't even know existed.

"Not long now, concentrate!" he said.

"No shii...OW!!!" Grey screamed.

"You're almost there!" he said to her, "Don't give up now!"

She yelled again and then bit down on the blanket. She certainly didnt want to draw any visitors. Grey pushed and cried again. Harper, come out all ready, Grey thought with a grimace.

"Once more, just once more."

She gave a final push and then fell back exhausted. For a moment she didn't care if the world turned black and she woke no more. Then she remembered. "My baby!" Grey cried.

"...is quite fine. Well done Poppet!" Curtis cried as he wrapped the baby in a blanket. Then gently, he handed Poppet her child.

Grey looked down at her baby, her little boy, a smile upon her face. She gently ran a finger across his cheek, touched his little nose, marvelled at his tiny fingers. If only Victor was here to see his son. She sighed but was too happy to start with the tears. "Thank you, Curtis." She whispered.

Curtis only smiled, and lifted a finger. "Shhhh. Rest now Poppet."

Grey sighed as she closed her eyes. "Harper..."

"Memories of Home" [Backpost]

[Takes place immediately after 'The One']

Primary Cast:
Commander Karyn Dallas, RN, Chief Counselor/Second Officer
Lt. j/g Victor Krieghoff, Security Officer, USS Galaxy - A

****

USS Galaxy
Deck 7
Junior Officer's Quarters

Karyn made her way to Victor's quarters, enjoying the long meandering journey down the corridor. She never thought she would enjoy something so mundane, but after days of being trapped in her quarters, Karyn was finally beginning to feel as if she could breathe again. And from the sound of things, she was going to have her work cut out for her between sessions and the upcoming hearing.

Crewmembers smiled and greeted her warmly, quite surprised that she was up and about. Most people knew she had been ill, but thankfully no one from her department had seen fit to broadcast why. She decided it was a good decision on their parts. Someone from medical had even stopped to tell her they were about ready to test something to counteract the pheromones via the ventilation system. That was a step in the right direction, indeed.

Her thoughts turned to Victor. She reminded herself she was going to have to get him to start opening up to others and to lean on them a little bit more. He certainly couldn't spend the rest of his tour avoiding sickbay and other people just because he didn't know how they would react. The Galaxy worked best when they could all come together as a team. *Well, obviously, he isn't dying if he can avoid seeing somebody. At least, I hope he wouldn't choose to bleed to death.* She rang the chime and hit the com panel outside his room. "Victor, it's Karyn. This is your official house call."

There was no response until she worked the chime the second time, the reply cutting off her words as she reached for the com panel. "I don't think this is a good idea, Counselor." Victor's voice seemed normal, or as normal as anyone sounded through the small speakers used for the door coms. "I know we missed an appointment while you were sick, but rescheduling for another day would be best."   Karyn frowned. "Look, Victor, Ella said you were hurt. Now let me in so I can help you. I brought my medkit." Why was he being so stubborn?

"Counselor," he replied after a moment. "I think that's even less of a good idea. Come back later. Not now."

Under any other circumstances, Karyn might have entertained doing what he asked, but something just didn't feel right to her. He didn't say he was busy, he didn't say he was fine. He had just told to go away. That was when she noticed the door was locked. "Computer, open door, medical override, Dallas Alpha Eight."

Instead of the swish of doors, she was greeted by the voice of the ship's computer. =/\= "Access Denied. Access to crime scene requires security authorization Delta." =/\=

Now she was truly alarmed. "Crime scene! Victor, come on now, open the door. If I have to get Corgan himself to open this door, I will. Whatever it is, you and I can handle it."

There was no response for almost a minute, until she was literally reaching for her combadge to call Security. The locking indicator switched from red to green and the computer informed her, =/\= "Crime scene lock rescinded." =/\=

Karyn breathed a sigh of relief. Now if she could just get Victor to talk to her, she would feel a lot better. Karyn entered cautiously, not exactly sure what to expect. Nothing seemed particularly out of place upon entry. Of course Karyn's attention was focused on finding Victor, not looking at his decor. There were quite a few plants, more of them than most crewmen had, and signs that one had been overturned recently, a spill of dirt still evident next to it. He had a few holophotos of family - mostly his aunts and parents - and a few others clearly taken outdoors. One showed Victor in slightly charred clothing with a long arm of some type standing next to what appeared to be a dead Capellan Power Cat.

"Victor?"

"Yes, Counselor?" The voice came from behind her and to the side, closer than she thought it should have without sensing his approach, seemingly right on top of her.

Karyn spun around to face him, clearly startled. A trill of warning ran up and down her spine. She ignored it. This was Victor and Victor needed her help.

Victor regarded her with a somewhat more severe expression than he normally wore, changing his appearance greatly, making him appear darker and more dangerous. He was wearing fleet-issue trousers, and a black pullover sweater, and no shoes, and incongruously carried a small dustpan and a whisk broom. "There's such a thing as being too persistent, Counselor," he said quietly, taking a step towards her, the movement more like a hunting cat's stalk than anything else.

Despite her earlier self-rebuke, Karyn found herself moving backward out of Victor's way. Even as a part of her was screaming at her to get out, another part of her was laughing at her skittishness. What was he going to do? Beat her to death with the broom? *Of course not.* the rational part of her mind replied, as Krieghoff moved right past her to sweep up the mess.

Dallas breathed a sigh of relief, stifling an uneasy chuckle. What was wrong with her? This was Victor for the gods' sakes! She had seen him twice a week for months now. She replied with a wan smile. "What happened here?" She pointed to the overturned plant.

"I knocked it over," Victor explained without looking up from his task. He finished sweeping and leaned back on his heels to check the carpet. "It'll be all right though - it would take more than that to kill it."

Karyn was puzzled. "Victor, are you feeling alright? Ella said you were injured during the boarding on the Promenade, but," she gestured to the plant, "that clearly didn't happen during the boarding." Dallas took out her tricorder and began scanning. She wondered if Victor was in shock. Upon closer examination she realized that not only were there signs that he had indeed been injured severely enough to require a trip to sickbay, there where several chemical compounds in his system that had no business being in a human body. Additionally, his neurotransmitter and hormone levels were all out of whack.

"No, this happened after. I zigged when I should have zagged." He stood up carefully and turned towards the door to the shared bathroom. "The robots are faster than they look." He moved into the bathroom, still talking. "Stronger, too."

Karyn called out from the main living area. "Want to talk about it?" Now they were getting somewhere. She needed to treat him, but she decided to let him reveal things at his own pace. She waited for him to return, wondering just how far things had gone between Victor and Mudd's women. 

After a moment, he returned and stowed the whisk broom and dustpan in a cabinet. "I was stupid and let it in the door before I realized what it was, what it did to you." He frowned as he shifted a chair slightly, not looking at Karyn. "I couldn't..." he stopped for a moment. "I knew what it was doing to me, that it was influencing me, making me feel that way because it was a machine - and you don't do that with machines. They aren't real. It wasn't real, it was just a thing. But I wanted it anyway." He looked down, blinked as he realized the chair legs were grinding into the carpet like drills under the pressure he was applying, and released it. "I still do," he observed distantly.

Karyn came forward then, understanding in her eyes. Victor had not surrendered to the fembot's pheromones, but it was clearly an effort for him not to do so. To feel so dead set against something and yet to feel absolutely drawn to it, as if his body and mind were not quite his own, had to be frustrating. "It'll pass Victor. They're working on getting the pheromones under control..." Karyn shook her head. "If you don't want to talk about it now, we don't have to. I can treat you and leave and we can talk about it later if you want, but I'm here either way."

"Talking about it isn't the problem, Counselor." Victor looked around the room, deliberately avoiding looking directly at Karyn, then moved to his desk and started to shift items on the top of it around. "It isn't like it made me actually do something - it just made me want it. I got a door closed between us and spent a bad few minutes trying to keep myself from opening it again until someone showed up and deactivated the thing. If I had done something..." his voice shifted subtly, flattening and taking on an undertone of surety he'd never used in their meetings. "I would have destroyed it. Destroyed them. All of them."

Karyn nodded in understanding. Now was probably not the time to open this can of worms, but now that she knew what was going on, she felt much more comfortable about the situation, and she suspected (or at least hoped) that Victor did as well. After all, one could only hope to deal with things one could acknowledge. "You're not alone in that regard, Victor. Sit down and I'll fix you up." Maybe if she focused on something else he would relax a bit more.

Victor started to reply, even turning towards her slightly, but stopped and just silently nodded. He turned the chair in front of his desk around and sat down facing away from her, only then reaching up and pulling the sweater over his head.

The injury was glaringly obvious before he'd finished. The bruising was already dark and had the shade that unmistakably told that it was deep and serious. It ran from one side of his back just below the shoulder blades to the other, and spread at least seven inches wide. There were concurrent abrasions and cuts - at least one which held a glint that Karyn abruptly realized was from a particle of imbedded glass - bit none of them individually was in need of stitches. The wound had been well cleaned and wasn't bleeding, a surprising fact in and of itself.

Karyn took one look at the wounds and gasped. "My God, Victor. That looks bad... You weren't going to tell anyone from medical, were you?" Karyn asked with a touch of reproach as she scanned more intensively, checking for signs of infection. She wasn't sure how an infection would interact with the pheromones but she wasn't taking any chances.  Noting the imbedded glass, she picked up a tweezer-like instrument, placing a hand lightly on his back to steady him. "This might sting a bit..." She prepared to wipe the blood. "I'm amazed you got this as clean as you did, but I wouldn't recommend leaving the glass in like this..." What was it with him? Did he like risking his life so foolishly?

His back, already tense, tightened further under her hand. "The more people I tell, the more people that know," he growled, a low rumble that she felt through her fingers as much as heard. "The more people that know, the more that will feel like I can't do my job." His hands pressed palm down on the desk, forearms quivering under the strain of the pressure he applied. "The more that feel that way, the more that'll call me on it - and the more that call me on it, the more I have to hurt to prove them wrong. Better this way."

Karyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This was not some macho spiel, this was Victor, and he was anything but a liar. She knew his experiences had made him into a loner, someone used to having to fight alone. She supposed she just hated seeing him like that. There was so much more to him, if he would only realize that. "It's not better if you bleed to death..." And that was when she frowned. There was very little blood, dried or otherwise around the wounds. Even the wounds she had reopened to remove the glass weren't bleeding as heavily as they should have been. "How'd this happen again?"

"Orion boarder had an old concussion gun on the Promenade," he growled after a second. "Fires compressed air to knock people around. Couldn't get out of the way." He paused for a second to place his right hand back on the desktop after it lifted, seemingly of its own accord. "It blew me back through the reinforced display case in the front of Curot's."

She shook her head. "Don't take this the wrong way, Victor, but you're not bleeding as much as I'd expect...Not sure why that is..."

Victor's right hand lifted again, deliberately this time, and pointed briefly to the opposite side of the desk for an instant before pressing back down. "Pills." His voice, still a deep growl, seemed strained. "Took for pain, but stopped that too."

"Pills! I don't recall anyone prescribing any medication for you, and it's not in your records. Where did you get them and why?"  Karyn had stopped all treatment for the moment, not sure how anything she did would interact with the unknown drugs and pheromones in his system.

"lanJep. After second fight with Nausicans. Klingon doc gave them to me for pain."

"And you just thought you could take them, no problem? Victor, forgetting the fact that just because it doesn't hurt anymore doesn't mean there's not damage, Klingon physiology is a hell of a lot different than human physiology. Regardless of what your ego says, Klingons are built to take a lot more punishment and anything some doctor gives you is going to be ten times stronger than it should be." She touched him on the shoulder gently, a spot free from injury. "Look, from here on out, I can handle all your medical stuff if you want, or if you're that against heading to sickbay we can have someone come here, but I don't want you to-"

The muscles in his shoulder jerked under her fingers, like they'd been a hot iron, and Victor made a low growling sound like a jungle cat. Without warning, he turned on her, his body language completely different, like that of a feral animal. His eyes were bright when they locked on hers, filled with a need that was so terrible that it was almost physically palpable - and no sign of the man she knew.

It was then that all sense of reality left Karyn, as her brain tried to comprehend that she was really seeing what she thought she was seeing. She wanted to laugh, and actually started to laugh, or was that in her head? This simply wasn't possible. What had she said again? What were they talking about? He was scaring her. Why was he scaring her all of a sudden? "Victor?" she heard a small voice ask. God, did she really sound like a child?

With a second growl, his hands caught her wrists and dragged her close, crushing her against his chest. He leaned down and sniffed her hair, stroked it with one hand as the other kept her from pulling free, and then caught it in his fingers and pulled her head back so he could look down at her face.

*You are so stupid!* her mind screamed. Suddenly everything added up. Her apprehension, her jumpiness earlier... And yet, disbelief reigned. This wasn't happening. This was NOT happening. Where was Victor? She had to get through to Victor. Pain seared through her scalp as her body registered he had her by the hair. She swallowed hard, trying not to cry or make him angrier. She had to reach him. In a voice that was surprisingly even, she spoke. "Victor, please, you don't want to do this..." Karyn searched his eyes for any trace of the rational, any trace of the person she knew.

For an instant, his eyes cleared enough that it was Victor that was looking out and not the need, and she realized that he was still inside himself, still fighting - and losing. "I'm sorr... I can't..." he managed to growl out, and then he was gone again, and only the hunger remained as he bent down to her lips.

Later she would realize it was like looking into the eyes of a man who was drowning within himself. Later she would also realize that Victor was not doing this willingly, but in that moment, all she knew was that she had to get away. His lips were suffocating her, she could hardly breathe. She gagged as she felt his tongue enter her mouth, forcing her anger to overpower any sense of shock. Pushing him away with all her strength, she tried to turn away...

Her shove pushed his head back and loosened the grip of one of his hands as the shoulder of her uniform jacket tore away. Victor growled again, a deeper sound this time, one driven more by anger than need, and his face darkened, a little more of his humanity slipping away. He reached for her again; his hand clawed as he kept her from drawing back with the one that still grasped her.

Karyn was operating on pure adrenaline now, the sheer terror making her desperate. She had to get away from him, she had to save herself. She had to keep this from happening. As she watched part of her uniform fall away from her - had he done that?- her shocked mind asked lazily. She felt as if she were floating. Any minute now she would wake- *No!!* her mind screamed, *Wake up!* and she felt his grip loosen on her left wrist. As if on autopilot, she reacted, her fist striking out like a rattle snake pouncing on its prey. Her fist hit him squarely on the chin, a move that she was sure had broken all her knuckles, but would most certainly should have knocked him down...that was, if he weren't on Klingon issue painkillers designed to make sure he felt no pain and ensure he had the strength to overcome any combatant.

His head rocked back like one of the antique stress therapy dummies that she remembered from school, returning to its original position just as automatically, the only sign that he'd been struck a small trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. His head tilted to the side for a second, wolf-like, and he regarded her with eyes that seemed more appropriate to a predator studying its prey than the man she knew. When it came, the returning blow was as fast and without visible warning as the kiss that had preceded it.

Karyn cried out in shock as his fist met her head on, connecting cleanly with her nose and jaw. She felt no pain, however, she was vaguely aware of the coppery tasting fluid that had begun to flow steadily from her wounds. It was enough to startle her from her daze and to the realization that he had let go of her hands for the moment. She immediately went for his eyes, focusing her attention on driving her nails into them. For all intensive purposes, her upper body was all she had for mounting any sort of coordinated defense, and it was her sheer determination to drive her nails into him that kept her focused, even as his lips pressed against hers, suffocating her once more and making it hard to think of anything but his weight against her.

Victor slapped her hands away and caught her in his hands again, jerking her towards him and turning, pushing her back towards the desk. Only the stabilizers in her hoverchair keeping her from being thrown there, the edge of the chair smacking into Victor's legs as it skated sideways under the impetus his movement had imparted. He snarled this time, lips curling back in the same gesture Karyn had seen on caged animals that were denied the chance to reach the visitors on the other side of their containment.

Her head reeled from being thrown back so violently, her vision swam, and she squinted in disbelief as he leered at her like an animal, a monster with no trace of the man she knew. She slapped him across the face, rage momentarily taking over her. Gods, was this really happening? Her brain seemed disconnected from her then, and me-watching-me took over. Was this the last thing she was going to see before she died? Was this the man who was going to take her life? She heard someone sob, belatedly realizing it was her voice she was hearing. As terrified as she was of dying, she could not bring herself to beg for her life.

Jamming one foot atop the chair, Victor drove it to the floor in a whine of overloading circuits, pinned it there with his weight, and bent down. His hands moved over her, brushing aside her attempts to stop him, trying to pull her up and free from the safety of the chair. The restraints stopped him the first time, and the second, each failure drawing another snarl. He paused, absorbed another blow from her without notice, and reached lower, hand feeling to the restraint release by her legs.

In her mind she could hear herself screaming. Like everyone else, she occasionally had dreams about falling, although instead of free-falling into an endless abyss, she dreamt of falling while trapped in her hoverchair, its confinement suddenly becoming a curse rather than her salvation. As her head collided with the desk on the way down, she wondered if her shell would crush her as it always had in her nightmares.  When she hit the floor, she immediately felt him reaching for her, hands brushing past her breasts in an attempt to release the restraints holding her inside.

She had no idea where the extra burst of resolve had come from, but she knew she had to make use of it. If he pulled her out of her chair, she knew it was over. If he got her on the floor, she knew she would not have the strength or the coordination to resist him. Panic gripped her as he reached to release her leg restraints and she began flailing her arms and legs wildly, her legs reacting not in coordination with the rest of her body, but in response to her mind's commands to simply get away. If he wanted her that badly, she accepted there was nothing that was going to prevent that, but she was damn sure not going to go down without a fight.

Karyn's thrashing kept his hand from the release, and Victor growled again, jerking it back after the third time she threw her weight to the side and crushed it against the interior edge of the chair. He shook it once, looked at it with an oddly curious air, and then blinked, as if just realizing that it hurt, and made a face.

It was this seeming humanity that would come to haunt her later. If Victor was still inside this...this monster, why couldn't she reach him? Why was he doing this to her? Her combadge was clear across the floor. He'd ripped it from her when he'd torn her uniform. The medkit was nearby, but she'd never be able to get into it without drawing attention to it. Maybe she could distract him long enough, talk to him while she eased it over. All of this went through her mind in a matter of seconds, but admittedly her world was quite hazy. There was nothing rational about this, it was all instinct. And so she reached for the kit, extending her fingers toward it, all the while forcing herself to keep her eyes on him as she searched wildly for salvation. She knew she had to keep fighting to reach him, if only to distract him from what his own instincts told him to do.

Her voice sounded mechanical, almost too calm now. She had no use for emotion anymore, only for survival. "Stop it, Victor, just stop this. You're stronger than this and I need you to fight it." Her hand was nearly around the kit now. Every inch across the floor seemed to sound like a siren.

He swiveled his head at the sound of her voice, looked at her for a second, then at his hand, then back to her. His forehead wrinkled, his expression turning dark as he regarded her, and a low noise rose in the back of his throat, like a child or animal in pain.

*Reach! Reach!* her mind screamed. Never in her life had she wished for better motor control more. Her right side had always been the weaker side and now her right hand might as well have been a claw reaching blindly into the dark. Fear made her palm sticky with sweat and her fingers stiff.

He looked at her hand for a second, then back up at her, his eyes still burning with the need that had never left them, and shook once, like a wolf shedding water from his fur. He hit her then, harder than he had before, the blow quick and sharp, bypassing her outstretched hand and knocking her back in the grounded hoverchair, her head striking the desk again. He hit her twice more before she had a chance to do more than gasp, the last one snapping her head to the side and into the leg of the desk.

Darkness swirled around her, making her feel nauseous and disoriented. She could feel her eye beginning to swell shut where it had connected with the desk, her vision rapidly reduced to what she could see out of her right eye. Blood dripped into the other eye, making it impossible to see or even orient herself. Everything hurt, including her back and legs, which were screaming in protest at the unnatural positioning. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and all thought was lost as the warm stickiness of her blood lulled her into a sleepy haze. A sharp pain digging into her right side was the only thing reminding her she was still alive. She reached across her body toward that pain, expecting to find that her chair had crushed her ribs.

What she found startled her.

Victor frowned down at her as she lay there, his hand drawn back for another blow. He blinked as she made a small sound of pain, and his eyes cleared for a second, something besides the need and his primal mind looking out from them again. "Counselor?" His voice was small, like a child's. "I... can't..." He dropped his hand and braced himself on the hoverchair. "Run," he whispered pleadingly, apparently unaware that she was going nowhere with his weight on it.

Her response came out in a mixture of dark laughter and sobbing. "R...r...run?" Dallas replied thickly, vaguely aware she was slurring her words due to the blow to the head. The hoverchair-bound woman looked down, and seemed to hang her head in shame...

When the hypospray jammed itself against his neck, she imagined he thought she was stabbing him, but that thought came later, his surprise not even registering then. The hiss was the only thing she heard, and for a few terrorizing seconds she feared it would make no difference.

Victor reached up to touch the side of his neck where the hypo had struck him, an odd expression - part pain, part relief - on his face. He shuddered once as the drugs started to take hold, then again as they encountered the Klingon medication in his system and reacted to it.

He looked down at her, eyes abruptly clear and full of pain and regret at the knowledge of what he'd done. "Good... girl..." he whispered slowly, the words thick. He tried to say something else but couldn't, and frowned, trying to force the words out. "K... ki..." He paused to take a breath, eyes pleading with her to understand what he was saying. "Kil... kill me," he finally got out. "Too... danger...Please... kill...."

Shaking from head to toe, Karyn's eyes grew wide. She cast a skittish glance toward the hypospray that might as well have been a phaser set on disintegrate. Had she done that to him? *Oh God, oh God!* He wanted her to- *'Good girl,' he'd said, *Be a good girl, Karyn, just be a good girl and end this..*Memories of home came unbidden. She tried to fight them off by covering her eyes, tears springing from them. She shook her head violently. "I..I c--can't. P-p-please..."

His eyes started to glaze as she spoke and his head drooped, only his arms supporting him. A second later, they too failed and he collapsed across her, looking oddly like a child sleeping there, his body twitching slightly as the drugs continued to battle in his system.

For a long time, Karyn didn't dare move, terrified that Victor wasn't really unconscious. Her entire body was on fire with pain, and a part of her wondered if she was dying. Was she feeling the last ounces of her blood hit the carpet? Was Victor's weight going to crush her until she was just a speck of insignificant dust? Dear God, how she wished she could melt into just that.

Sadness gave way to deathly calm. Her breathing slowed and reality began to sink in. People would come looking for her, would they find her dead? Would she wish that pain upon them? And then for no apparent reason she thought of Katie, her big sister. Would the elder Dallas ever forgive her for giving up after they had tried their damnedest to keep from doing just that? Anger filled her. Karyn Dallas did not want to die.

Unfortunately, saving her life meant risking it. She knew without looking her combadge was on the floor beyond her grasp, having been thrown there with her the sleeve of her uniform. There was only one other option.

She regarded the gentle giant sprawled on top of her with fear and apprehension. Victor's combadge was only inches away, but it might as well have been light years. Could she use it without waking him? Fear kept her from realizing just how deeply he was under. Shakily, she reached for the lifeline, breathing shallowly and praying she wouldn't have to touch him. "Ok-ok-ok-" she chanted, fingers fumbling. On the third attempt, Dallas made contact, though she was sure the soft chirp would alert Victor.

When it didn't, Karyn exhaled, realizing she was going to have to summon help. "D-Dallas to Sickbay," stated the voice in a hoarse croak that sounded incredibly calm and yet very far away, "I need a doctor right away. I'm in V-victor K--Krieghoff's quarters. There's been an accident." She closed the channel, having lost the strength to speak.

Before succumbing to the darkness, Karyn recalled her final words. Perhaps this was just a terrible accident.

"Breaking and Entering"
Klaus Fienberg, shopowner and crackpot doctor.(AKA, Accomplice with a Legit job and Alibi)
Erik Stiener, Teutonic master thief

Together they are.....THE NIGHT HESSIANS!

----------------------------------------------------------

Time: Right before the coming big JP.

Location: A side of the wall that is safe from the Seige.

Erik threw a rope with a hook on it up the wall of Count Brhode's Castle then returned to the waiting horsecart.

"When I return we must take flight. It is possible the gaurds will be alerted to my prescence when I'm done."

Klaus merely nodded in the darkness. He stepped down with a feedbag for the horse. He stroked the horse kindly on the face while Erik climbed up the castle wall. Once on top, a gaurd heres a rustle on the wall and moves in to investigate. A trap. Erik quickly clubbed him and arranged it look like and accident. Klaus heard it and looked up. "It is alright, He still lives..." Klaus nodded and again and waited.

Erik pulled up his grappling hook and hooked it up so he could lower himself down the wall. He then took to the shadows and approached the Castle. Again he went up a wall on the darkside and pulled himself into a room, pulling his rope up behind him. Another clubbing, this time a sleeping servent awoke find his room being looted. Erik made it look like he fell off his bed.

Erik moved into the Darknend halls and snaked through the darkness. Pillaging room after room.

"The Pendulum Swings... Clockwise" [Backpost]

by
Legate Kylar Curran,
Chief Federation Liaison Officer

Commander Karyn Dallas,
RN Chief Counselor/Second Officer USS Galaxy

Curran awoke feeling like he'd been asleep for days.

Yet, he couldn't help but wonder if he had moved to the next plane of existence. The sky above him was white and blurry. He was floating on soft clouds of heavenly wings. He was utterly relaxed.

He blinked.

Then blinked again. A feeling of dread rushed through him as the sky swam into focus.

He could see seams in the sky, and the bright light above and to his right drew away its blur to reveal... a fixture.

Were there fixtures on this plane? No!

He screamed inside, flailing his head around to prop himself up on his left hand, and pain raged through him.

"No!" He dropped back onto the towels, which he tossed aside in anger, despite the fire rushing through his muscles. "NO!" He pounded the floor with his fist. He raised the hand to his eyes when he noticed the red marks on the knuckles. Where did those come from?

He gingerly raised himself to a seated position and took note of his naked body as the towels fell away to fold inwardly on the floor around him. It was covered in red welts.

How did he come to be sleeping on the floor of his lavatory? Maybe a cold shower would shake the information from him. He simply could... not... remember.

Later, in the shower, he had leaned into the shower wall, both hands planted on the wall. He watched the water swirl around his fingers as it poured off his brow. Flashes of graphic violence came to him, strung out like a broken collage with no cohesion. A female, unknown to him, Counselor Dallas (anger seethed at that thought) leaning over him, whispering something, phaser fire, blood. And lots of it.

Where had that damned woman come into play with him? He towelled his hair dry outside the shower, followed by a close shave. The bristles had grown into a dark stubble. He hated not knowing anything she might have done to him.

It dawned on him. Dropping the nail file, he rushed from the room, to check the current calendar. Damn her! She was intruding on his efficiency! How was he expected to do his job when she was eternally meddling in his life? What did she want from him?

He'd been down for over 12 hours! That explained the stubble. Brhode was going to love this. Consulting his messages, grim-faced while searching for Brhode's growling messages lauding his human failings, he found.... nothing.

His calendar had been cleared for the next few days, and Olegoski was on his shift duties. Only this terminal had access to his personal schedule.

"Computer! Who approved the change in my shift schedule?" The terminal whirred.

[The last command inputted from this machine was from Counselor Karyn Dallas] Anger rose deep in his chest, rumbling. What RIGHT did she have entering his quarters, and what did she *do* to him?!

"What was her intent?" Again, a series of low-level beeps.

[Message is as follows]

"Legate Curran is ill and is unable to report for duty. I have treated him and will advise ASAP about a return to duty."

That damned bitch! This was her way of getting him off this ship. Humans! They were all against his being here. Such fear from these drivel. He wouild deal with this.

"Where is Commander Dallas now?" He smiled, his voice dripping caustic.

[Commander Dallas is currently in Lt. Victor Kreighoff's Quarters on Deck-]

"Fine!" He cut off the horrid female's tin-plated voice. He was going to have to put in for a terminal request to male at the next opportunity. Hurriedly, he finished dressing and rushed to follow the corridor tracker to Krieghoff's quarters.

****

She had lost all concept of time. Staring at the ceiling, vision hazy with pain, Karyn had no idea how long she had been lying there. Had she called for help, or had she simply imagined that? It seemed unimportant now, every fiber of her being screaming for her to stop fighting the fatigue and to simply give into the darkness.

As hard as tried not to, there were times she knew she had, allowing herself to drift away to a place where she was floating, far away from hoverchairs and pain...far away from life. But the respite never lasted long, a twinge of fire always yanking her back to somewhere between alertness and unconsciousness.

She was so tired. How easy it would be to just close her eyes and sleep, to forget about everything and everyone who had brought her to this end. She did not want to think about what she looked like, curled upon her side, trapped in the hard shell that had once been her freedom. She did not want to think about how much blood she had lost or why she had lost most of her vision in her left eye. She did not want to think about what HE would do to her if he awoke and realized what she had done to him. But what she wanted no longer mattered, and the tears came silently.

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